Ed Lacy - South Pacific Affair

“Ray, I said once before that you are weak. I don't know what you are seeking in these islands. But if it is money, the bank in Papeete will honor this. If you came to make your 'fortune' and then leave, go now. Louise's heart won't be broken as much as it will be if you pull out in a year or two.”

“What the hell do you think I am?” I asked fiercely, feeling naked before her.

“I have, tried to find out but I am not certain what you are. Maybe you're a bit of a fool, maybe merely confused, not sure of yourself. But then I am biased: Louise is my daughter and only a fool would throw her over.”

“Look, this is something for Louise and myself—and only us—to settle. I'm goddamn sick and tired of your nose in my business.”

Nancy said softly, her voice weary, “I know I have been the scheming mother-in-law. I hate the role. But you have become part of my 'business,' for the only business I have left in this world is to be sure Louise is happily settled. My mind isn't getting any better and I have not much time.”

“Don't go dramatic on me. You're as healthy as a horse!”

“My body is healthy but not my crumbling brain. I shall not hang around to become a lingering idiot. One of these days I shall swim out to sea. Twice in my life I have nearly drowned, have learned that water is a painless suicide. I tell you all this because if you are somewhat of a fool, you are not a scoundrel. You have money, if that is what you have been searching for. The decision is up to you.”

“This is my decision!” I snapped, tore the check up and threw the pieces over the side.

She shrugged, studied my face for a long moment then said sadly, “No, I do not think you have reached a decision. I hope with all my heart this isn't goodbye, Ray.” She touched my hand, waved at Eddie, and stepped back into her canoe.

I got the motor running, Eddie pulled up anchor and we headed toward the reef. I watched Nancy standing in the canoe, waving at us, a lonely figure against the breaking, bleak dawn.

As we crossed the reef, ran up the sails, and cut off the engine I felt damn good I'd been strong enough to tear up the check in her face. But there was another thought haunting me, one which made me feel ashamed. Later, when Eddie asked what had happened between myself and Nancy, I told him, and he had the same thought, minus any shame.

He asked casually, “You think the check was good?”

Chapter IX

I moved deeper into the shade of the cabin, watching the aeoei-shaded Papeete waterfront, hearing the sharp horns of the bicycles and frantic taxis on the Quai du Commerce. I was trying to sleep off a hangover. Eddie was stretched out near me, merely trying to sleep. I had been falling down drunk the night before; in fact I had been on a bender for several weeks.

It was all very dramatic and like a bad movie. Four days ago had been exactly a month since we'd left Numaga and Ruita had probably long since arrived there. I was still in Papeete, trying to find my future in a bottle.

We had sighted Point Venus on the third day out from Numaga, a stiff breeze pushing us all the way. Olin had taken our cargo, a doctor said my lungs were okay, and within two days after we landed there wasn't a single thing holding me in Papeete—except myself. And whenever I was sober enough to think, I held a number of all-night conversations with me as I lay atop the cabin, the cool night hupi drying off the rum sweating out of my pores.

They weren't very bright conversations. Sometimes I felt downright sorry for myself, giving up Ruita and our love, making a sacrifice for her happiness. I told myself I would be very honest—I was afraid of the responsibilities of another marriage, I didn't want to give up the carefree life of being a starving trader. Or I came up with a new idea: somehow I would get a bigger boat and Ruita and I would sail around the islands, trading. As I was chewing this one over, the hupi died down and the stench from our hold damn near made me give up.

Days and weeks went by with me either drunk—on credit while it lasted—or arguing with myself, and never winning an argument. Eddie wisely kept out of things. My “official” excuse was we were waiting for a cargo, which didn't make any sense: who would be shipping a cargo to an almost deserted island like Numaga?

Once, when we first ran out of francs and credit, Eddie came apart with, “You bastard, acting like all the other lousy popaas! I bet you've knocked her up already and are scared of—”

I clipped him with all I had in the way of a right hand and although he rolled with the punch, it still dropped him. When he jumped up and came at me, I dived over the side of the Hooker. Despite his being an islander, I was a better swimmer than Eddie, my fat making me more comfortable in the water. He knew he had no chance against me as long as I stayed in the water and after a couple minutes of cursing, Eddie suddenly laughed and shouted, “Come on out before you make the fish drunk.”

He helped me back on deck, asked, “No kidding, Ray, why don't you go back to Numaga?”

“I don't really know, except I'm scared.”

“If you're scared, don't go. What are you scared of?”

“I don't know,” I said stupidly.

Another time, when we were out in the dinghy, fishing, I told Eddie, “If I settle down on Numaga, you find yourself a girl and do the same.”

He shook his head. “No. I'll buy you out, pay you when I have the francs. Living in one spot ain't for me.”

“Why not?” I asked eagerly, hoping he had the answer for me, too.

“Because when I stand still some damn popaa comes along and gives me this 'colored' crap, the 'dumb, childish native' line. This way, on my own boat, it never catches up with me.”

It all added up to one fact: instead of being on Numaga with the girl I loved, I was slobbering all over the Papeete waterfront, making a damn fool of myself.

Now, I heard Eddie move and looked his way. He had his eyes half-opened, as if he was too lazy to either completely close or open them. There was couple of nuts in the shade near him and I said, “Hand me a nut—I'm dry as sand inside.”

Eddie rolled over, grabbed two coconuts and we each had one. He took out a cigar. I was surprised; we hadn't seen a franc in weeks. I asked him where he got it. He just said, “Found it,” and sent out a cloud of stinking smoke, making my eyes smart.

I felt Eddie's toes nudge me as he said, “We got a visitor. Dubon. Wish we had some francs. I could do with a night of Heru again.”

I raised myself on one elbow and looked toward the stern. Henri Dubon waved as he came up the gangplank, his face wet with sweat; the dirty linen suit was stained under the armpits.

He shoved his old straw hat back on his head, dropped his battered briefcase as he sat between us, cleverly announced, “Goddamn, is very hot.” He said this in English with the phony French accent he put on for tourists.

When Eddie told him, “Then why don't you jump overboard and cool off? You could stand a bath,” Henri grunted and answered in his best GI English, “Up yours. Can you spare a nut?”

Eddie pushed a drinking nut toward Dubon, who took out his switchblade and cut an opening, put the nut to his lips. A knife had to be real sharp to slash a nut like that.

Dubon tossed the nut overboard but it struck the railing and bounced back on the deck, at his feet. Henri took out a pack of English cigarettes, lit one, and quickly slipped the pack in his pocket. Eddie blew cigar smoke in his face, said, “Dubon, you smell like a pig but there's a rumor you're human. We keep a clean ship. Kick that damn nut into the water.”

Henri slipped Eddie a lazy glance, then grunted as he shoved the nut over the side. We all watched the splash. Henri wiped his forehead with a pink handkerchief, announced it was damn hot again, and what a busy-busy morning he'd had. A large yacht from Canada had sailed into the harbor the day before—a sleek mahogany and teak yawl anchored off the quay within sight of the Hooker. Henri jerked his thumb at the boat and told us he had been busy showing three fat couples the sights of Papeete that morning. At noon he'd suggested the ladies retire to their boat, escape the heat, while he had steered the men to Heru. Unhappily, he went on in explosive fast French, she had found a bottle of wine and was so drunk the yachtsmen had turned her down. Dubon finished by wiping his sweaty face as he cursed Heru, his luck, the tourists, and the world in general.