The Last Tiger

  PULAU TUA

  The captain sat with his back to the controls and his arms folded, silently watching the boat empty, but it was not his slighted ego or a need to remain at the helm that kept the old man to himself. Nothing could or ever would induce him to step one foot on Pulau Tua, for who knew what price he or his family would pay if he so deeply offended the spirits and ghosts of the Tiger People. His skin prickled at the thought of it. He watched the sweaty pink passengers scrabble to and fro as they slowly disembarked, seemingly ignorant of all they were violating, despite the fact he had cautioned each of them at one time or another. He pondered the undeniable fact that it was he who had brought them here, but effortlessly justified his part in the sacrilege by reminding any listening phantom of his clearly issued warnings, and of the fact that if he had not brought them then some other, less scrupulous, boatman would have.

  His younger counterpart was as contemporary in outlook as he himself was old fashioned. Fit and able he helped unload the bags, piling them at a safe distance from the shore. The wiry old man watched the youth silently, Radzi too as he busied himself, and the curve of his sunken face deepened, highlighting cheek and jawbone alike; young people, he thought, never learn. His eyes fell upon Bee as she scuffed her way through the fine sand and he made a silent entreaty, an appeal from the heart, for the Banjang to stay away. Reluctantly, almost shamefully, he scanned the trees for any indication of the wicked animal’s presence, a precursor of disaster to come and particularly so for children. There were signs of activity on the island, obvious to the eye of a veteran, but it was not the work of a spirit, evil or otherwise. For now the girl would be safe, he decided.

  He had seen it here once before, the Banjang, in a time long ago when bravado and youthful daring mattered almost as much as life itself, and now he was afraid he might be forced to look upon it again. In a test of courage he had attempted to circuit the forbidden island as close to shore as possible, with a solitary companion as witness. From the undergrowth burst a huge marten. It paused and stared, terrifying them both for they recognised the evil spirit in its familiar animal form. The challenge was abandoned and in the circumstances no pride was injured or face lost, but on returning home it emerged that a favourite cousin’s daughter had died that day from dengue fever. The boatman had never forgiven himself and was reminded of it every time he saw the tiny victim’s father; it was almost forty years before the cousin himself passed away. Was it greed that had brought him back, or necessity? The old man could not be sure. Maybe old people never learn either, he thought.

  The old boatman greeted Felix as he climbed back on board.

  ‘Menunggu. Okay?’ Felix indicated six hours and the old man nodded his understanding. Once Felix was back on the beach, he motored his boat a little way offshore and lay down to an uneasy sleep.

  *

  Beyond the high tide mark the soft dry sand was littered with brown leaves, sharp kernels, and blackened pods. Clearing a space, Bee sat down in the shade to drink, watching as Giles pottered and fussed while Lydia and Mark scurried and obeyed. As before, Radzi rested against the trunk of a palm, thin white cable trailing from pocket to ears, his eyes occasionally casting an appreciative glance in the direction of Lydia. Bee’s grandfather idly surveyed their surroundings seeming content to relax, until he strolled over to the group and asked where they planned to go from the beach.

  To Bee’s surprise it was Mark who answered, the first time he had spoken to anyone other than Lydia. His voice was as soft as his handshake.

  ‘Nowhere. We’ll pitch around here, make this our base for now and start working inward, I guess. There’s so much to do we may as well start here.’ He smiled, ‘It’s as good as anywhere. We’ll begin where the shore finishes,’ he indicated the beach and near shore with the wave of a hand, ‘anything below this level will have to wait.’

  ‘Not your thing?’

  ‘Nope. I am a committed plant man. The chap who was going to do it couldn’t come.’

  ‘The marine biologist.’

  ‘Yes. Both wrists in plaster. Not much use when you need to get wet.’

  Bee had been about to ask Mark how the man had happened to break both wrists when her attention suddenly moved to the boat, which seemed to be heading off without them.

  ‘Pappy, look!’

  ‘Jesus, he didn’t hang about, did he?’ Felix sighed, reaching into a pocket. He telephoned the boatman while the others listened, all but Radzi unaware of the exact meaning of the words. Eventually Felix put the phone away. ‘He says he’ll try to come back later but I’d be surprised if he does. Reckons there’s a massive storm moving in from the east,’ Felix indicated the charcoal grey smudging the distant horizon. A jagged white streak flashed across it. ‘It would have been nice if he had given us the option to go back with him rather than just buggering off and leaving us. He’s a mad old stick. If he was that worried he should have just moored up and waited it out, or come ashore.’ Felix looked bemused.

  ‘I get the impression he doesn’t want to be here at all,’ remarked Lydia.

  ‘Have your company for a little longer then, old boy. Eh?’ Giles chuckled at Felix.

  Bee cringed. Giles was the first adult she’d met who she could be certain that she didn’t like, although she was uncertain as to why. ‘Maybe it won’t come?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Felix wandered to the edge of the water, where already the waves were lapping more vigorously. ‘Guess you haven’t seen a proper thunderstorm yet, Bee. Could be a good one.’ He smiled and Bee grinned back, wide-eyed, big toothed and gappy.

  The topic of conversation shifted between the old captain, his hasty retreat and the storm itself while the mounting bank of cloud spread through the sky with the speed of ink through water. Rapid change was coming and Felix wondered aloud if the boat could even outrun it, before repeating his comments about the old man’s peculiar manner. Just then, a cooling breeze pushed inshore from a sea no longer gently blue but becoming ragged and grey. With the breeze, the oppressive tropical air lifted, sucking with it leaf debris from inland, raking it up through the trees in a futile flurry of resurrection. Subtle shifts in light smoothed away shadows and the noise of the jungle fell away into a blur of rustling and cracking. The island suddenly took on an air of supplicating insignificance, as if cowering before the looming tempest. Even the pale sand lost its glow as everything began to darken.

  It was eerie and although excited, Bee was forced to seek the reassurance of her grandfather’s hand. Both he and Radzi looked up, observing the swaying of the very tallest trees. Felix commented that lightning was not their biggest concern for in reality it would strike wherever, regardless. Falling debris was a much more likely hazard, he said, fruits and palm fronds cascading down on someone’s head. But far worse would be heavy boughs falling, easily weighty enough to kill instantly and likely to snap away from the tree without warning, dragging down strangling vines that in turn would take other vegetation with them.

  Bee’s excitement morphed into worry. But when she noticed Lydia looking from her and then to Felix, the woman’s face seeming to question whether or not he should be saying such things in his own granddaughter’s presence, Bee resolved to look less concerned even if inside nothing had changed.

  Felix elaborated, ‘Things here are not like things at home. These trees are permanently heavy with leaf. They don’t shed them in one big drop. The roots are incredibly shallow so the whole thing can topple very easily.’

  ‘They fall down, Pappy?’

  ‘And quite a sight when they go. You can imagine why; they’re like massive tethered sails.’

  With a tremulous voice Bee admitted she was afraid, but it was said secretly via a whisper delivered directly into Felix’s ear. Quietly, he reassured her that she was right to be alert, but wrong to be scared. There were issues they needed to consider, but it would be fine. With a reassuring squeeze, he freed his hand from hers and gently patted her on the back.

&nbs
p; ‘Let’s stay on the beach,’ she suggested, tears pricking, face turned away from Lydia.

  ‘No good. The beach is no safer than the jungle. I know what I said about lightning, but standing in an exposed place is just inviting trouble. Where are your hat and your bottle?’

  ‘Over there.’

  ‘Don’t lose them, there’s a good girl. Radzi,’ he said, turning to the guide. ‘There’s a kind of outcrop set back there. Do you think it looks stable?’

  As they were making their way into the trees to check, Felix suddenly stopped. Bee bumped into the back of him.

  She gripped his shirt and hissed excitedly, ‘Is it a snake?’

  ‘No, nothing as wonderful. Look over there. Do you see?’

  He pointed while speaking in Malay with Radzi, who then moved forward to take a closer look. Giles, Mark and Lydia who until now had been following, pushed past Bee and Felix to join Radzi a little way further on in the undergrowth. As Lydia walked by, she stroked Bee’s arm reassuringly. Bee did not react.

  ‘This is obviously re-growth,’ said Mark, addressing Giles specifically, ‘a man-made track. Not in use, though. Not recently.’

  A path pushed deep into the island’s interior. Even though the wide strip was brimming with the rangy growth of plant species racing to succeed, the entire area was distinctly sparse in comparison with the tangle of jungle surrounding it and the dense undergrowth they had all been walking through. Trees swayed and bent above them. Felix took a few more cautious steps, careful to avoid damaging the saplings that would eventually outcompete everything and come to dominate the canopy. He crouched down to inspect the ground. Mark joined him, fingering the foliage. In the strengthening wind, leaves rustled louder than the waves now crashing at sea; rubbing bark squeaked and groaned. A few fat raindrops landed heavily.

  ‘Let’s move to shelter and come back when the storm has passed,’ Felix instructed, rising to his feet. ‘No point taking silly risks.’

  Then, almost as his last word was spoken, everything went silent. The storm had passed by, merely clipping the island, rolling on to some other place; only now, after it had moved on, was the sound of rumbling thunder heard.

  ‘Hah! Was that it?’ said Giles, snorting a little through his squat, porcine nose. His white shirt stuck to his large sweaty frame giving the impression of a man struggling with the heat. ‘Your great storm, Felix?’

  ‘That was it, Bee. Looks like it’s passing us by.’ Felix smiled at his granddaughter, ignoring Giles.

  Privately relieved, Bee groaned as if disappointed, which, in some small way, she was.

  Lydia put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Never mind. There’ll be more. Bit scary though wasn’t it?’

  ‘Plant equipment,’ stated Felix, as a matter of fact. ‘That’s what is responsible for the disturbance. This is a good bay for bringing heavy machines ashore, with a beach like this it wouldn’t be too hard to unload.’

  ‘An expert I see.’

  ‘Not really, Giles, but it makes sense.’

  ‘But for what purpose?’ Lydia moved closer to Felix, as if examining his face, her hand still resting on Bee’s shoulder.

  Sensing an attempt at intimacy, Bee ducked away.

  ‘Yes, old boy,’ chortled Giles, mopping his head, ‘you seem to be the resident expert in most things.’

  Felix shrugged, ‘Logging, perhaps on the other side of the island? Maybe it’s too steep over there to drop equipment? I don’t know. I’d need to take a look.’

  ‘Logging? Here? Now?’ said Giles.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Doesn’t feel such a remote place now, does it?

  ‘You’ve gone from possibility to fact rather quickly,’ observed Giles.

  Felix shrugged.

  ‘Something tells me that you are sure. That you already knew?’ Lydia questioned.

  ‘Yes, well… I suppose I did. I’m here to assess the damage, to see what’s been going on. But that’s all. We could be wrong, though. Nothing is ever certain in my job.’

  ‘I sense a but…’ Giles sniffed.

  ‘But… now I am certain. Sort of. I told you, it’s why I am here. This is my speciality.’

  ‘Well why didn’t you say so?’ Giles roared with melodramatic irritation, sparse eyebrows frowning.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Why not say exactly what you were here for, rather than spinning a yarn about charity work? I’d say police work and, if I am honest, a bit distasteful with a child in tow. Goodness gracious me, did you think us all spies?’

  ‘I thought you were secret agents.’

  Bee smiled. She loved Pappy. And at this moment she could see what Nana had meant about his face. He looked very handsome indeed as he spoke to the unpleasant face of Giles.

  ‘Steady. We’ve had that joke, old boy, don’t flog it.’

  ‘Ah! Joy of joys. Stuck on an island with a man who has an innate ability to kill humour,’ Felix said, ‘Giles, it is charity work. I’m an independent observer.’

  Lydia’s arms wrapped her thin body in a loose cocoon. ‘Joking aside, is it safe, Felix, for your granddaughter? Shouldn’t there be more of you? It suddenly doesn’t feel very safe.’

  ‘You see, even Lydia agrees with me,’ Giles smirked.

  Bee felt the cold sweep of embarrassment, pride suddenly faltering. Pappy the hero was the focus of others’ displeasure and it made her uncomfortable. It made her want to be away from strangers, from everything she didn’t fully understand, and to be far away from Asia. It made her homesick.

  Unmoved, Felix shook his head and laughed a little and Bee felt marginally better. Reaching into a voluminous pocket he pulled out a bottle of water and offered her a drink.

  ‘No thank you, Pappy. I’m not thirsty. Mine is with my hat. I’ll get it if I want some.’

  Felix swigged from the bottle, ‘Have a couple of sips anyway.’ He forced the bottle onto Bee before turning to Giles, ‘It’s perfectly safe. I’m here because people know me. This is my job, I’ve been doing it for a very, very long time, maybe too long.’ He took a sharp breath, ‘And for what I need help with, I have hired the fine services of Radzi.’

  On hearing his name, a white smile flashed from Radzi’s handsome young face. Bee looked at Lydia to see if she was looking at Radzi. She wasn’t. She was still looking at Felix.

  ‘Anyway,’ Felix went on, ‘the truth is, this is only a tiny fraction of why we’re here, eh Bee? We’re really here for a holiday.’

  Giles gestured towards the large sheathed knife hanging from Radzi’s belt. ‘And what is that for, my good man? It doesn’t look like the tool of a charity worker. Or a holidaymaker.’

  ‘Come on Giles, give me a break. I am sure you can imagine what it’s for. Radzi is here for the part you are all interested in, the wildlife and keeping us safe from it.’

  A few stray drops of rain showered the group, a random sprinkling thrown from the very edge of the storm.

  ‘Maybe we should make camp before we do anything else,’ suggested Lydia, ‘just in case this weather does turn in.’

  ‘Can we help?’ Bee’s unease passed with the possibility of a beach camp. ‘Are we really staying too, Pappy?’

  ‘Who knows, but I expect so. I can’t see that old fella coming back anytime soon. Anyway, it can’t hurt to set up camp just in case.’

  *

  Near the huge billowing fire built by Radzi and Bee to keep mosquitoes and snakes at bay, Bee and her grandfather sat and spoke about the track they had found, darkness forming a black wall behind them. On the other side of the blaze, Radzi lay sleeping on the sand, nearby three small tents containing the exhausted bodies of the scientists.

  Felix apologised to Bee abruptly, questioning his own judgement in bringing her. He sighed heavily. Inside Bee sorrow stirred, a trace of that same feeling induced by her father’s petulance, for Pappy did not normally sigh; Pappy only ever encouraged. And she was not sure what to feel when he added that he would probably make this his
last trip, declaring it was time to let someone else take over. Part of her was happy that he would be away less, but another side was sad to think she might end up with a more average sort of grandfather.

  Felix remarked miserably that naïve and youthful enthusiasm would probably achieve far more than experience, but Bee was unable to grasp his meaning and refused to agree. She snuggled closer and told him he was still very young, hoping this might stop him talking and lift his mood.

  But Felix did not stop talking as Bee wished, instead responding in a way too difficult for a ten year old to understand; very much Felix the professional and not Pappy the grandfather. Often it did not pay to have too broad a view of the world when fighting for a cause, he said, for it tended to erode enthusiasm. Better to believe in the impossible, that way at least there was some hope of achieving it. That’s what he was missing, he mumbled, a belief in the impossible. It was gone and he hadn’t known it for sure until tonight. The job needed someone younger. It was shame, he said, in a lighter tone, that she was too young to take the reins.

  Then Felix pulled her closer and told her to ignore his old-man ramblings. It was work stuff and what he wanted to think about was the holiday. That, he said, almost sounding cheerful, made the work part worth it. Having her here, made it definitely worth it. With these final words going some way to reassure Bee nothing was wrong, she drifted off to sleep with her head in his lap, a million stars as her nightlight.

  BEFORE IT ALL, BEREFT OF LOVE HE STRAYED

  The Moon was a mere sliver, a thin silver crescent hanging in the black sky, tiny yet so huge there was no need to search for the sight of Her, glowing ethereally while surrounded and protected by the lights of a million Ancestors. The lone boy on the sand had been watching the Sun fall to its rest, seeming to hurry below the horizon, sinking into the sea where it would safely sleep the night away until the Moon and Ancestors permitted it to rise once more. And he hoped they would always allow it, vowing that when he became a light in the sky he would always welcome the sight of the Sun and take his own rest gladly. Once, long ago, the Sun had mistakenly burned the land, and the boy wondered when it would be forgiven, it seemed a very long time to bear a grudge.