Sunara had been led away, weeping, with the flag-lieutenant in faithful attendance. The two guards had been dismissed; Captain Paratang, having ringed the royal gardens with his men, was busy on matters of security. At long last, peace was descending on the Sun Palace.
Miles Marriott, who had scarcely moved in the space of half an hour, looked at his brother.
‘Do you truly want such a country as this, Dick?’
‘More than ever.’ Richard, exhausted and taut of nerve, was still firm in his answer. ‘This is only the beginning … More than ever, Makassang will need strong rule – and kindly rule too.’
‘Then it is for you to provide it,’ said Miles Marriott. He turned towards Mr Possitter, who had sat down, in prim disregard of all that had gone before, and was staring into space. ‘What do you say, Mr Possitter? Shall we confirm Makassang in its new Rajah?’
Mr Possitter’s air of disengagement was deceptive. ‘It is not at all what we planned,’ he said, disapprovingly. ‘Nor should it take place so quickly. I will admit that such a compromise might be necessary, and acceptable. But I have grave doubts that events should move so precipitately …’ He looked at Richard. ‘In the first place, I would like to see your planned constitution set down on paper.’
So would I, thought Richard to himself; I am in the mood for comedy … But he knew that he must not give such an answer. ‘It needs no writing down,’ he answered, with sober care. ‘This country can be mine, and it can be yours at the same time. You should leave me to rule here. Since I need your strength, in the matter of arms, I will do so on behalf of the Queen. But understand, I am Rajah.’
‘Done!’ said his brother Miles, in the manner of a player making a wager.
Mr Possitter winced. ‘It is not done at all,’ he said, in extreme discontent. ‘Do you realize what this entails? An entirely new presentation to the Prime Minister’s office. An Order-in-Council for Her Majesty to approve … It might even be necessary to confer a title … Do you realize,’ he burst out at last, ‘that this business might involve us in at least two White Papers?’
At the same moment, Richard and Miles Marriott looked round about the room. Within their gaze, there was the same fearful frieze of figures; the dead slave with his body coiled in agony, Colonel Kedah lying in a pool of his shameful blood, the Rajah’s small corpse covered by a silk shroud which could not disguise the dread lineaments of death. Even while Mr Possitter was speaking, Richard had been negligently wiping the blood from the spear he had used to kill the last traitor.
But at this self-same moment, he caught his brother’s eye. He said: ‘Two White Papers? – God bless my soul!’ and they both dissolved into welcome, healing laughter.
vi
In the cool of the evening, in the muted beauty of the palace gardens, the Rajah of Makassang sat and talked with his Ranee, and watched their children play. Richard wore the white jewelled turban of his kingship; Sunara’s pale green dress displayed no badge of rank – as ever, she could combine royalty and femininity in a perfect proportion.
The sun was nearly down, the air playing over the lawns and the poinsettias was light and scented; even the palace peacocks strutted about their arrogant business on a quieter note. Sunara’s hand lay in Richard’s, on the cushioned bench between them; sometimes they turned to each other, sometimes they looked down the Steps of Heaven, where Adam was hopping agilely from step to step, watched by his half-brother Presatsang who, as one who had still the greatest difficulty in walking on two legs, was lost in admiration of this feat.
‘I am sure he will hurt himself,’ said Sunara anxiously.
‘If he does, he will not do so again,’ said Richard, with a father’s lack of feeling.
‘Or he will fall, and hurt Presatsang.’
Richard smiled. ‘Now that of course would be a different matter.’
A peacock shrilled, but mildly; the perfume of casuarina and flame-of-the-forest was subtly ravishing. For the two of them, it was a time of blessed tranquillity, after the fearful ordeals of the past; but for Richard, it was only a small respite from the cares of the present. After a year of rule, his life seemed more demanding than ever: always the Ivory Throne called him; even now, a deputation waited on his pleasure within the Sun Palace. Its pedestrian purpose, the provision of public bath houses for the sampan village near the old lighthouse, was a measure of Richard’s preoccupation with things great and small.
He had done much in the past year, and there remained much to do; the cup of endeavour was never drained. The Council of Chiefs had been strengthened, and met on a fixed date each month. A survey for a light railway to the teak forests of the north was now being made. A modern hospital near the Shwe Dagon was already half built. The deep-water harbour would begin to take shape, as soon as a dredger and pile driver could come from Singapore. A jungle road along the east coast had advanced some twelve miles.
The beginnings seemed small, but they were, at the least, beginnings. As a moral counterpart of this, another sort of beginning had been made with the official abolition of slavery – in the face of outraged protest from parents who had children, particularly girls, for sale. There was talk of high-handed interference, even tyranny … But Makassang must move with the times. Richard himself must be the only slave.
When he thought of these things, and particularly of the harbour and the new storage go-downs, shades of the Da Costa brothers rose to sadden him. Andrew Farthing and Sebastian Wickham seemed to peer over his shoulder, watching what he did, and how well. Even the skull cup of the soldier of Francis Drake was a reminder of a long, stern line of duty. But he could hope that these ghosts were benevolent. With a little here, a little there, he was beginning to use his kingdom well.
Sunara, turning suddenly, pressed his hand. ‘Rest,’ she said, as she often did. ‘Enjoy. Refashion the whole world tomorrow.’
He answered the pressure of her hand, but he thought on. He ruled, but as a trustee for others; the link with England, though not burdensome, was close. He had to answer his letters … A gunboat called now and then, watching the trade routes and the tides of Empire; the soldiers and sailors who made courtesy calls on the Sun Palace were good company, and were certainly well repaid for their trouble. Makassang was a stronger country now; the Dutch would not snatch it, nor would anyone else.
But just as he ruled as trustee for England, so did they all, perhaps, rule as trustee for the future – and the future was Makassang’s. It was their task to bring the island forward, slowly yet certainly; taking care to break no customs which could not be replaced by better ones. Their prime blessing at this moment was peace – peace, and the end of cruelty. In this, he taught by his own example. Though he was stern to malefactors and usurers, yet his rule was benevolent; and his people seemed to answer it with the same quality. The fact was heartening, seeming to prove a cherished precept of Sunara’s – that men were not fools, nor knaves; they were born with love, but sometimes lost it on the journey. If pressed, they would answer harshness with the vilest cruelty; yet it need not be – the example was the touchstone.
The two boys were coming up the steps now, towards their parents. Adam, sturdy of back, was carrying Presatsang; the small brown face peeped over the supporting shoulder, close to the white one. They were laughing.
Sunara called: ‘Bedtime,’ and laughter changed to wailing and protest. Manina appeared from nearby, prepared to stand no nonsense, and Sunara said: ‘Take the Rajah Muda.’ Presatsang was borne away, consoled by promises of a story after his bath. Adam, relieved of his burden, lingered for as long as he dared. He was growing into a solemn, watchful child, adoring his father, regarding his stepmother with critical affection. He and Presatsang were already allies against the tyrannies of the adult world.
When he had been kissed and despatched, Sunara was silent awhile. Then she said: ‘Perhaps he is the Rajah Muda.’
Richard, awakening from a dream of public bath houses, asked what she meant.
‘
Perhaps Adam will rule.’
‘It may be,’ said Richard. It was a question he sometimes dwelt on, and then put aside for the far future. ‘Time will show which of them is the worthier – and which the best for Makassang. I would not dictate my choice, nor, even for the sake of love, would you.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I know you.’
She smiled, lovingly, brilliantly. ‘I like to be known by you,’ she said – and then blushed as he bent on her a glance which quite altered the meaning of her words. ‘Richard!’ she protested.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I said nothing. But now that I think of it …’
It was time to go, and regretfully he rose, taking his leave. He would be with her later … Walking back, his head bent, acknowledging Captain Paratang’s salute as he passed the inner guard, he thought, very briefly, of the phrase he had used a moment earlier, when talking of the future ruler of Makassang: ‘I would not dictate’.
He hoped that this could be made to come true, in everything else as well. Just as with the children, so with the people; one should give them direction, then stand aside and let them find the way. Above all other things, he wanted to make manifest the words of Lao-Tzu, as old Mendel da Costa had recalled them: that the secret of good government was to let men alone.
Ottawa – London – Barbados.
May 1960 – April 1961.
Synopses of Nicholas Monsarrat Titles
Published by House of Stratus
A Fair Day's Work
Liverpool Docks, on Merseyside - a senseless strike threatens to delay the departure of an ocean liner. As the last of the passengers come aboard, including the shipping line's chairman, the drama increases with the threatened walk-out of the stewards. Below deck, agitation and unrest mount as the tide water rises and the vital hour for sailing approaches.
H.M.S. Marlborough Will Enter Harbour
In H.M.S. Marlborough Will Enter Harbour, an old sloop, homeward bound, is torpedoed, leaving her guns out of action, more than three-quarters of her crew dead, and radio contact impossible. But her valiant captain steadfastly refuses to surrender his ship… In Leave Cancelled, an army officer and his young wife concentrate their passionate love into twenty-four hours, knowing that it might be their last chance… And in Heavy Rescue, an old soldier, having lived on the scrap heap for more than twenty years, finds that gallantry is once again in demand when he becomes leader of a Heavy Rescue Squad…
Life Is A Four Letter Word
Breaking In is the first part of the autobiography of one of the most successful writers of the twentieth century, Nicholas Monsarrat. Monsarrat describes his privileged childhood in Liverpool, where his father was the greatest surgeon of his time, recalling all the small details of a provincial upbringing. The account of his days at public school are acidly described, and in remarkable contrast to his golden days at Cambridge, where he enjoyed good friends, good wine and little work. At twenty-three, Monsarrat turned his back on his comfortable family home, fled from the desk of his uncle's solicitor's office, and settled in a single, mildewed room in London, with a typewriter and a half-finished manuscript. Here, he describes the years of learning to write, learning to live and learning to love – invaluable lessons for a future which comprised war, emigration, marital upheaval and the hazards of artistic achievement. The second part, Breaking Out, takes us up to the year in which Monsarrat produced the novel widely acclaimed as his finest, The Tribe That Lost Its Head; the year when he was living in Ottawa as Chief of the British Information Services; the year he calls 'The Year of the Stupid Ox'. As Monsarrat charts the first half of his life with astonishing frankness, we are given a stunning portrait of this complex character, this brilliant storyteller.
The Master Mariner
He will not die. He will wander the wild waters until all the seas run dry.
A young Devon sailor, Matthew Lawe, is cursed after a spectacular act of cowardice to wander the wild waters till all the seas run dry. In this, Nicholas Monsarrat's final masterpiece, Lawe represents the spirit of maritime exploration and fortitude; his life is the thread stringing together a long history of nautical adventure. Written in two volumes, the first of which appeared in 1978, the story encompasses the full extent of maritime development, beginning with Sir Francis Drake abandoning a game of bowls to fight the great crescent of the Spanish fleet, to the opening in 1960 of the St Lawrence Seaway, the farthest penetration of land ever made by ocean-going sailors. Nicholas Monsarrat died before he had completed the second volume, but his notes and outlines are included here with an introduction written by Ann Monsarrat, his wife, to provide a satisfying end to Matthew Lawe's epic wanderings.
The Nylon Pirates
Alcestis, a British luxury liner, moored in New York and bound on a cruise to the Caribbean, South America and Africa, awaits her exclusive passengers - businessmen with mid-life crises, large bank balances and unforgiving wives; legacy-laden women looking for love and adventure; and divorcees with settlements to squander. But another group of passengers threatens to upset their opulent trip. These are the twentieth-century pirates - suave, elegant, discreet and utterly unscrupulous, with a singular purpose in mind and a collection of ruthless strategies.
The Pillow Fight
Passion, conflict and infidelity are vividly depicted in this gripping tale of two people and their marriage. Set against the glittering background of glamorous high life in South Africa, New York and Barbados, an idealistic young writer tastes the corrupting fruits of success, while his beautiful, ambitious wife begins to doubt her former values. A complete reversal of their opposing beliefs forms the bedrock of unremitting conflict. Can their passion survive the coming storm…?
Richer Than All His Tribe
The sequel to The Tribe That Lost Its Head is a compelling story which charts the steady drift of a young African nation towards bankruptcy, chaos and barbarism. On the island of Pharamaul, a former British Protectorate, newly installed Prime Minister, Chief Dinamaula, celebrates Independence Day with his people, full of high hopes for the future. But the heady euphoria fades and Dinamaula's ambitions and ideals start to buckle as his new found wealth corrupts him, leaving his nation to spiral towards hellish upheaval and tribal warfare.
Smith & Jones
Within the precarious conditions of the Cold War, diplomats Smith and Jones are not to be trusted. But although their files demonstrate evidence of numerous indiscretions and drunkenness, they have friends in high places who ensure that this doesn't count against them, and they are sent across the Iron Curtain. However, when they defect, the threat of absolute treachery means that immediate and effective action has to be taken. At all costs and by whatever means, Smith and Jones must be silenced.
Something To Hide
An act of kindness has grave consequences in this heart-rending novel about a young girl, pregnant and abandoned, and the man who helps her. When decent, compassionate Carter takes pity on this young girl, he is quickly drawn into an ordeal beyond his control. Succumbing first to her desperate cries for help, and then to her threats, he agrees to let her spend the night in his flat. Aided only by his own unskilled hands, she gives birth to a sickly baby. For Carter, the anguish has only just begun, as he witnesses a traumatic chain of events unfold.
The Story Of Esther Costello
In a small Irish village, young Esther Costello, victim of a tragic accident that has left her deaf, dumb and blind, is kept barely alive by hardhearted parents. Discovered by a well-meaning American tourist, who is appalled by Esther's shocking condition, she is whisked away to America for treatment. But all the advances of American medicine are unable to bring about a cure and with unceasing devotion, her patron decides to devote her life to Esther's care. But a nationwide campaign to raise public awareness eventually results in donations being diverted to the woman's personal account, and in a harrowing twist to the tale, Esther's faculties are restored, with shocking consequences.
This
Is The Schoolroom
The turbulent Thirties, and all across Europe cry the discordant voices of hunger and death, most notably in Spain, where a civil war threatens to destroy the country. Aspiring writer, Marcus Hendrycks, has toyed with life for twenty-one years. His illusions, developed within a safe, cloistered existence in Cambridge, are shattered forever when he joins the fight against the fascists and is exposed to a harsh reality. As the war takes hold, he discovers that life itself is the real schoolroom.
The Time Before This
On the icy slopes of the great ice-mountain of Bylot Island, set against the metallic blue of the Canadian Arctic sky, Shepherd has a vision of the world as it used to be, before the human race was weakened by stupidity and greed. Peter Benton, the young journalist to whom Shepherd tells his story, is dramatically snapped out of his cozy cynicism and indolent denial of responsibility, to face a dreadful reality. He discovers that he can no longer take a back-seat in the rapid self-destruction of the world, and is forced to make a momentous decision.
The Tribe That Lost Its Head
Five hundred miles off the southwest coast of Africa lies the island of Pharamaul, a British Protectorate, governed from Whitehall through a handful of devoted British civilians. In the south of the island lies Port Victoria, dominated by the Governor's palatial mansion; in the north, a settlement of mud huts shelter a hundred thousand natives; and in dense jungle live the notorious Maula tribe, kept under surveillance by a solitary District Officer and his young wife. When Chief-designate, Dinamaula, returns from his studies in England with a spirited desire to speed the development of his people, political crisis erupts into a ferment of intrigue and violence.