Ed Lacy - South Pacific Affair

I was taken ashore, stuffed with penicillin tablets and orange juice, and propped up in a soft bed with clean sheets —all of which made me feel a trifle silly. Nancy made some sort of egg pudding which I swilled down and fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes the sun was dipping into the horizon. I got out of bed and walked—slowly—down to the lagoon and bathed; I felt much better. The old lady saw me as I was returning, bawled me out, hustled me back to bed.

She had the radio going in the next room. I fell asleep listening to the Papeete news—the Shanghai had arrived with a load of sick divers. The governor thought the travel ban would be lifted within twenty-four hours if no new cases were reported.

I awoke early in the morning, feeling strong, and I took a swim. There wasn't a soul around. I didn't even see Eddie out on the boat. Nancy wasn't up, and I found some coffee nuts, roasted them over a charcoal fire outside the kitchen. When they cooled off I shelled them, put the roasted beans into a small bag, smashing against it a rock to grind the coffee.

This left me tired and sweaty. I rested while the coffee cooked, had breakfast, and went inside and played some jazz records on Ruita's hi-fi. The silence plus the records made me restless, almost homesick. I kept telling myself all this would be different if Ruita were here—but how much different? The old lady appeared in a nightgown, smelled the coffee and told me, “Ray, you didn't have to make that for me.”

“Know I didn't have to, merely wanted to do something,” I said. Nancy went back to wash, and then to cook eggs.

After breakfast Nancy said she had to start working on her new specimens, arranging them or something, and I thumbed through some old Paris magazines Ruita had, still felt restless. I went down to the beach. There was Eddie standing in water up to his knees, hunting for sea urchins. I helped him and when we had about a dozen of these little prickly balls, Eddie dumped them into a burlap bag and shook them around till all their prickly spines had rubbed off against each other. Then we sat on the beach, cut them open with a knife and, with a lime, ate the delicious reddish insides. Eddie lay back on the sand, said, “This is the life.”

“Yeah, making coffee and catching sea urchins—big deal!”

“We'll sail for Papeete tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I repeated. “I figured on waiting here till Ruita comes back. Our copra in bad shape?”

“So-so. Nancy wants you to get to Papeete right away.”

“What the hell's all the rush about?” I had a strong feeling if I left now, without seeing Ruita, I would never return.

“Nancy wants your lungs X-rayed. If you have any liquid there, might give you TB.”

“Told you I feel fine.”

“Go argue with her. And she can be right about the lung stuff. Anyway, we can go to Papeete and return here before Ruita does. Take time for a schooner to make the rounds to Forliga, what with the ban screwing up things.”

“Shell probably be here in a few weeks, and the copra will keep,” I said, knowing how stupid my words sounded, but trying to give some reason for staying.

“Ray, if you think that copra will keep you'd better have your nose X-rayed too,” Eddie said. “Come on, let's go up to the house and get a cold beer out of the icebox.”

We made some more coffee. Nancy joined us over a new pot-full. I asked, “What's this about you giving me the bum's rush?”

She looked puzzled. “Bum's rush?”

“I don't want to leave here so soon.”

“Indeed you will,” the old lady said firmly. “I want you under medical care as soon as possible.”

“Don't you think you might consult me as to what I want? I was planning to wait for Ruita.”

“That will be nearly a... a... yes, a month,” Nancy said, her face straining for a split second as she tried to remember the amount of time “Eddie says he can handle the boat alone, so you can take things easy.”

“I told Ray we can make Papeete and back in less than a month,” Eddie put in.

“Yeah, I guess we can make it in a month—if we get a cargo going this way,” I said.

Nancy gave me a sharp look. “What cargo?”

“I'm still a trader, have a boat, and a pay load to think of,” I said, both of us knowing what I meant, fencing with words.

“There will be a cargo of copra awaiting you here,” Nancy said. “I will see to it, if you wish.”

“Thank you. I'm always interested in a cargo,” I said, and it all sounded stupid. But I simply had to let her know. I didn't want to be treated as something she had bought for Ruita, like the record-player, or another palm tree on the island.

Eddie and I spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the Hooker, going over the rigging, airing the bilge. I didn't do much of the work but what little I did left me exhausted. Finally I stretched out in the shade of the cabin, said, “I'm pooped. Might be best to hang around for another week or so.”

Eddie studied the cloudless sky. “No rough weather coming up. You can do all the resting you want on the way to Papeete. What's with you, Ray, don't you want to leave here? Hell, we have this stinking cargo and the sooner we leave, more chance we'll have of making it back before Ruita returns.”

“We've always sailed whenever we felt like it. Now everything is rush, rush.” Maybe I was steamed at Eddie because I felt he, and everybody else, was in my business, not letting me work things out with Ruita my own way. But what was my way—running out on her?

“Nobody is rushing,” Eddie said, “but we do have a cargo to get rid of before it spoils, and the X-ray of your lungs. Also, I could do with a girl.” Eddie ran a hand over his sweaty chest. “I need a bath. I'll look our keel over, too.”

I lay on the deck most of the afternoon, hearing the quiet of the Numaga lagoon, thinking this quiet would be my life from now on. Of course there was nothing to stop me—and Ruita—from sailing to Papeete or visiting some of the other islands when ever we felt like it. Only why couldn't I be happy without the cheap delights of Papeete? And in time Papeete would wear off; I'd want the States and that would be the end of that—Ruita would never stand for being “colored” with all the direct and indirect restrictions that meant. Even in Paris Ruita wouldn't be happy.

Nancy appeared in a gay mood at supper and after a big meal of baked rice and squid, spiced with shreds of pork, we sat around and listened to records. High tide was due at dawn—Eddie had determined this merely by holding his hand in the water for a few minutes. Nancy said goodbye before she turned in, told me a list of things she wanted in Papeete. When she asked why I didn't write them down, I said, “I'll remember them.”

“Wonderful to have such a memory,” she said, faint sarcasm in her voice.

Again there was that tense, unsaid something between us: she sensed that the reason I didn't write them down was because I didn't expect to return. No matter how many times I told myself I would return, my inner mind said I was a liar. I was running away, as usual.

Eddie and I were up long before dawn. I was working over the motor when we heard a canoe coming and Nancy stepped aboard. She said she couldn't sleep, decided to see us off. As Eddie was getting the sails ready, the old lady took me aside, asked me bluntly, “Ray, are you returning within the month to marry Louise?”

“Why ... uh ... I haven't asked her yet, of course, and...” The uneasiness was obvious in my voice.

Nancy fumbled in the pocket of her sweater, handed me a slip of paper. I held it in front of the lamp—it was a check made out to me, on a Boston bank, for fifty thousand dollars!

“What's this for?” I asked.