SPOIL OF THE SEA.

Otago Witness, Issue 3993, 23 September 1930, Page 76

SPOIL OF THE SEA.

By Otwell Binns

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.) “Not a dog’s chance—anywhere!” The speaker stared at the green lagoon, and beyond to a white line of foam where the blue sea broke on the reef—a sea as black as Modred’s shield. The sun was warm, the air genial, the great fronds of the palms swung in the trade wind; and from the native huts came the crooning of a love-song of the island world. It was a morning when most men would have found it a joy to be alive; but the man who surveyed the scene with bleak eyes found it otherwise.

“God!” he whispered. “ “If only I were dead ”

It was a poor aspiration, but it was honest. Standing there, dressed in a ragged singlet, torn ducks, held up by a piece of fibre rope, feet shoeless, bearded, unkempt, staring at the sea with hopeless eyes, he was the picture of the perfect beachcomber, and yet he was not what he seemed. He was “on the beach,” but he had not yet made the ultimate plunge which separates a man from decent life and all hope of recovery. The ragged clothes in which he stood constituted his sole earthly wealth. Last night he had slept under an upturned canoe, for breakfast he had traded his last negotiable possession—a broken penknife; he did not know where his next meal was to come from; and if he were to eat he would have to prospect for it like a ranging gull—yet he was not a beachcomber; for he had kept his soul, which no beachcomber ever does, and while ease and plenty were to his hand, he ehose the hardest way. The crooning song grew clearer as the singer appeared in the doorway of the hut. The words of it shaped themselves clearly in his mind— E Tara itl e! Tara vahine Tu ya ’au Ho scarcely needed to translate, having reached that expertness in the island tongue in which a man dreams in it; but all the same his mind supplied the English version, for in old days he had dabbled in verse. O little Tara! Tara vahine. Seek me and find me where I; stray. He did not look at the singer, who was watching him with soft, dark eyes that were not without 'witchery and allurement. He kept his gaze on the sea, and though the island girl could not guess it, pictured one as fair as she was dusky; and as far removed from the island world as a girl schooled in Cheltenham could be. And whilst the song went on that by some law of association had stirred the thought of her in his mind, it was of the white girl he dreamed, and not of the brown Venus singing a love song in the doorway of the shack. Ta u ho’oi raa mai Na Teretlma If I return To Teretlma He laughed sharplv, 'bitterlv. “If I return—” ‘

He glanced downward at his torn raiment, his bare feet, then laughed again, harshly. . “ If I return—the first damned copper would run me in. A tramp is a city alderman beside me.”

The singer came out into the open. She was young, comely in her dusky way, with the superb lines of her race, and in her eyes was a light that would have quickened many men’s heartbeats. Dick Trenchard did not look at them. He knew the lure and temptation of them; and a man fighting for his soul does not play with fire if he is in earnest. Also this morning he was not sure of himself. He was bankrupt even of hope, and when hope goes from p man it is easy to slip into damnation. Aware of the girl’s approach he moved further down the beach; and the girl divining that her presence was for the moment undesired by him, made ft little grimace and returned to the hut.

■ Trenchard threw himself upon rthe white sand, and stared at the lagoon. For quite a long time he lay there, seeing visions, and balancing the ledger of his life. Lured by romance and the hope of easy fortune, instead of going to Oxford, he had taken, his small patrimony and come south. There he learned that there were seemingly honest men who were rogues. One had pold him a pearling cutter that was as peaworthy as a basket; another had induced him to go partners in a store that was already bankrupt; whilst a third, having been given the shelter- of his hut, had stolen what was left of his little fortune. The last event had happened pix months' ago, and as he lay there thinking of the intervening days, he (shivered in spite of the warmth of the pun and sand. They seemed full of evil omen. Profitless and barren, despite almost desperate effort, they had led him to this island, brought him to the beach penniless, and thrown the Ultimate temptation in his way.

He strained his ears a little. The pong of Tara Vahine was hushed, but pgainst the eternal rumble of the sea the soupd of a lilting whistle reached him, causing him to turn his head. A man was moving down the beach, U white man, clad only in canvas breeches torn away at the knees—a fat, jolly-faced man, who plainly had not a care in the world. He still whistled ps he came on; and when he reached Trenchard, he dropped on the sand beside him, fished about his waist, and producing the materials for a cigarette, deftly twisted one, lit it, and after the first luxurious puff, shot a question. “ Had yer grub this mornin’ ? ” The man spoke brusquely, but there was a friendly note behind the brusqueness, which induced Trenchard to answer him, without offence. “An hour ago! ” “ Um! Raw coconut washed down wi’ the milk, I guess.” “No!” Trenchard premitted himself to smile at his poor triumph. “ Fish and banana fritters.” “ Garn! ” “ A fact, Lamming.” “ Then—”

The man glanced backwards towards the hut; and when he turned again and considered his companion there was a light of comprehension in his eyes. “ Yo’ an’ Vavae fixed it up—hey?” “No! ” replied Trenchard tersely. The other laughed. “ But you will, never fear. Vavae’s a beauty in her way, an’ she’ll wife an’ mother yo’ together. That’s the way of those island girls. Soft flats if yo’ like w’here a down-an’-out white man is concerned; but with their hearts in the right place. An’ they know what to do without tellin’. They know a husband’s got to be fed an’ kept in good temper wi’ tobacco an’ gin—an’ they gets ’em as is their duty, an’ leave their men with never a care, an’ not a stroke of work —” " You think I shall come to that, Lamming ? ” “ Sure thing! An’ what the odds. Look at me. Two hundred an’ ten pound if an ounce, fat as butter, an’ sweet as honey; and when I hit this beach I was thin as a bean pole an’ hungry as a horse leech. Then I was as restless as an unbroken pony —an’ now, I breathe contentment; an’ am just as bright an’ happy as a sand flea. As you’ll be when vo’ go to Vavae —” “Never!” “Pooh! That’s a long time. You’ll hitch up with her in a week.” “ You seem very sure, Lamming.” The jolly-faced man laughed knowingly. “ Been through the mill myself, sonny, right through the small wheels, an’ I know how yo’ feels. Yo’ve come to the place where the bottom has dropped clean out o’ the world, an’ it ain’t no sort o’ use going on in the old way—’cause ■why, yo’ just can’t. That means yo’ve got to start on a fresh road—the only one that’s left. It’s Vavae or starvation or next door to it for yo’, an’ yo’ know it—” . “No!” “ Yes,” affirmed the other. Yo’re shying at the notion now, white man’s self-respect, pride of race, an’ all that sort o’ truck; but once yo’ let that tophamper go; yo’ll be just as jolly as the day is long, an’ its as inevitable as death, the only way as the chap in the play used to swear.” “As inevitable as death! ” Trenchard gave an odd, mirthless laugh. “ That’s the surest road out for a man who has hit the bottom. A man might take it—” “ No man in his senses would be such a blamed idiot! ”

“Why not? This year, next year, sometime—as sure as eggs; and when a man has lost the taste of living to antici-

pate the end is no great hardship. One might swallow a handful of these poison berries that grow up on the hill; or swim out through the opening of the lagoon ”

“ Don’t be a darn’ fool.” “ What Cato did and Addison approved ’ —” quoted the other. “ Never heard o’ the blighters,” commented Lamming, tersely. “ Yo’re talking through yo’re hat.”

“ I don’t own one. Lost the last five months ago,” was the reply, given tonelessly.

The fat man looked at him from the corners of his eyes, then in a friendly way extended a handful of tobacco and a shred of dried palm leaf. “ Here, have a smoke an’ be cheerful. ’Taint no use grousin’ at life. There’s things still left—Vavae, an’ the lagoon, an’ the sunshine, an’ on a soft beach like this yo’ lives a long time before yo’ dies.”

“ I wonder! ” said Trenchard. then falling into silence, made the cigarette, lit it, and, smoking, - stared bleakly at the sea.

Lamming watched him for a minute or two, then rose from the sand. “So long, ol’ man. Yo’ ain’t wot I’d call a cheerful bird this .mornin’. Got the willies, I guess. But when yo’ve fixed it with Vavae yo’ll be as lively as a flea.”

He walked slowly away, and Trenchard finished the cigarette. From the hut where Vavae was came the crooning anew, and the hopeless man stirred uneasily, as if someone had laid a hand upon his shoulder. A new song began. I go to the door of thy house; I wait for thee

He started impulsively, looked once towards the door of the hut where the dusky Venus watched him with soft eyes, then he rose sharply to his feet, like one who had taken a decision. “ The berries or the sea? ” he muttered. “ I’ll toss ”

He found a piece of broken shell. “ Rough for the berries, smooth for the water!”

He flicked the shell into the air, caught it deftly, and brought it down on the back of his hand as if it had been a coin. Then he looked at it, with a detachment that was quite extraordinary. “The sea!” he commented, and laughed without mirth. “ Well, here, goes! ‘ None can be more wise than destiny.’ ” Deliberately he walked down to the edge of the lagoon, and as deliberately waded into the water without removing his clothes, whilst from the huts two pairs of eyes watched him. A moment later he stepped off a shelf of coral into deep water and began to swim methodically, making for the opening of the reef, through the coral piers off which the sea boiled and swirled, sending up clouds of .spray, which the sunlight turned into rainbows. He was half-way across the lagoon before Lamming, realising his purpose, gave a sharp exclamation—- “ God Almighty!” A second later he was running towards the beach, roaring as he ran. “ Trenchard, yo’ darn fool—come back!”

The man in the lagoon must have heard him through the roar of the reef, for he lifted a hand in a gesture of farewell, but continued his course straight for the thundering waters by the coral piers. Lamming looked round helplessly. Oh, curses! The man’s gone clean balmy!”

■Soft feet padded the sand behind him. It was Vavae running, and in her hand she held a naked knife. Lamming stared at the bright blade in amazement “ Wot the blazes ” Behold 1 said Vavae, as her arm shot out. with index finger stretched. Lamming followed the pointer and as he saw what the girl had already seen from higher up the beach, a single word was torn from him. “ God ”

What he saw was a black triangular fin,, lifted above the green water, under which, like a grey cloud, a long body moved. It was coming down the lagoon, not more than 300 yards from the swimming man; slowly, leisurely, as yet unconscious of the prey awaiting it. “You see?” asked Vavae.

“See! ... A blind man can see that he’s done. When that shark smells him it’ll snip him in two.”

Vavae made no reply. Throwing off her lava, she ran down the beach, and with knife held in her white teeth, plunged into the water. A second later she was swimming strongly, trying to get between Trenchard and the cruising man-eater before the latter should discover him. From the shore Lamming bellowed a warning. Whether Trenchard hard him or not he could not tell; but on the heels of the shout an odd thing happened. The swimming man slackened speed, turned from the direct course that he had been following, and a second or two later began to tread water, whilst he appeared to be examining something in front of him. Then a shout of exultation broke from him, reaching Lamming quite clearly. “In heaven’s name ” —muttered the watcher, then checked sharply, as his eyes caught a sudden swirl in the lagoon not two score yards from the. man. The black fin had disappeared. The shark had seen or smelt its prey, and had sunk to approach. Trenchard turned towards the beach pushing something in front of him, swimming leisurely. He caught sight of the watching man, and shouted something which Lamming could not make out. Apparently he was quite unconscious of the peril at his heels, and the watcher cried to him frantically.

“ For God’s sake, look out, Trenchard. There’s a shark cruising——” The fin lifted again, and this time Trenchard saw it, for he began to swim for the shore, kicking the water frantically to scare the man-eater, whilst as he swam he appeared to be pushing something before him. Lamming, puzzled, looked round for Vavae, and saw her swimming like a fish and one half as fast. Remembering the knife she carried in her mouth, guessing her purpose, the watcher waited breathlessly. She was nearing Trenchard now. Would she be in time? The dark fin flashed again very near the man now, then sank. “ No,” ejaculated Lamming. “My God ”

He waited for the man’s death cry, stared in frozen horror, waiting for the seemingly doomed man to throw up his arms as the cruel teeth snapped, and for a moment glimpsed Vavae’s dark head bobbing in the green water like a cork. In the same second there was a great swirl in the water as the shark circled to make his attack, and the watcher was vouchsafed a glimpse of the upper flange of the man-eater's tail. Then Vavae’s head sank like a stone.

Trenchard was kicking desperately, churning the water about him to scare away the horror that was now so near. Would Vavae be in time or —there was a sharp commotion in the water behind Trenchard, fin and tail came again to view, whilst the shark threshed helplessly on the surface of the lagoon, on the light green of which a sanguinary stain appeared, and then Vavae’s dark head reappeared. She looked once at the floundering terror, and turned to follow Trenchard, now nearing the beach. Lamming divided his attention between the swimming pair and the floundering shark. He knew the girl must have ripped the brute’s stomach with her knife—gutted him alive—and that neither the man nor the girl had anything further to fear, and after a moment he ceased to watch the creature agonising in its death throes. Vavae had drawn level with Trenchard, and was swimming by his side, whilst the man swam awkwardly still, as it deemed, thrusting something in front c.f him. Lamming, watching, felt a little stir of curiosity, then as a thought occurred to him, laughed throatily.

“ Here’s where Trenchard clicks—for a dollar ! The girl wins out or I’m a Dago ! ” He ran to the edge of the water as the pair approached the beach, saw them touth the bottom; and as they did so Trenchard stopped and lifted something from the water held it above his head and let out a wild yell. Lamming stared at the thing in the other’s hands. It was roundish, of a grey-white, and shone in the sun. An inkling of the truth came to him.

“ Jehoshaphat ! ” he grunted. “ I lose that dollar after all ! ” Then he shouted to Trenchard.

“ Wot yo’ got there, old man ? ” Trenchard’s reply was given a moment later as he waded ashore with Vavae at his heels. His eyes were dancing, his face was flushed, he was shaking with excitement. “Look at it, Lamming, touch it; smell it ! ” “ Wot— —” “ Ambergris,” broke in Trenchard in a hoarse shout. “ Feel the weight ! . . . There’s a stone and half of it. : . . And it’s worth three pounds an ounce at any trading station south of the line. . . . Think of it, Lamming ! . . . The luck’s changed at last. ... I meant to end it. . . . I went out there meaning to pass out—and God flung this in my face. . . . Here’s the new road you gassed about just now—the road out of this. I get a new start. I’ll buy a cutter . . . or a share in a plantation, and in five years I’ll be a budding Rockefeller ” He broke off, laughed in excitement that approached hysteria, whilst Lamming stared from him to the ashen grey mass of fat grained red like marble, which had been amassed in the intestines of some spermaceti whale, and which presently would be turned into costly perfume. Then the beachcomber’s eyes turned to the dusky heroine standing by his side, and with almost elemental simplicity he demanded :: “ An’ wot about Vavae ? ” “ Vavae ”

“ Ripped up that sea-tiger she did. But for her yo’d ha’ been cruising up the lagoon in his interior. I guess yo’ got to take her now—yo’ can’t do less, an’ yo’ can’t do no more. She saved yo’re skin, an’ out o’ gratitude yo’ve got to join up.”

“No ! . . . I wouldn’t before. You know that, Lamming, and I can’t now. It would be flying in the face of Providence. There’s a girl back home.

. . . You know. And this ” he indicated the greasy treasure-trove in his arms—“ why this brings her to me. Vavae’s a brick, but—well, dash it ! I guess I just can’t.” And Vavae, the island girl, watching his face, and comprehending perhaps half his words, made an odd gesture, then dropping her knife, began to walk up the sand towards the huts under the swishing palm fans.