Savages

  Annie said anxiously, “Are you sure it’s not poisonous?”

  “Sure hope not, I’ve eaten about six; they’re delicious.”

  The women gathered around Suzy, who unbuttoned her shirt and laid out her fruit. The others sniffed at it and savored its peachlike smell. Unlike a peach, this fruit tasted even better than it smelled. Greedily they crammed the fruit into their mouths.

  “We must save some for Jonathan.” Annie sounded guilty as she reached for a third fruit. “I haven’t had a craving like this since I was pregnant with Fred, and then it was cucumbers.”

  But by the time Jonathan had returned to see why the hell Carey hadn’t followed him, only two of the purple fruits remained. The women were apologetic, and slightly ashamed. Their hands had seemed to act of their own volition, as fingers reached out for yet another fruit and stuffed the delicious, soft sweetness into their mouths.

  Jonathan grunted, “Never carry tropical fruit next to your skin; you might get a rash.”

  “Can’t you just say thank you?” Patty asked.

  Suzy said she’d go back and get some more.

  “No, you won’t,” said Jonathan irritably. “You ain’t peeled them things, and you ain’t boiled ’em. We don’t know if they’re safe. If you’re going to eat anything you see, then I’d better catch a taster. There ain’t no monkeys on Paui, so I’ll catch a rat. If he eats the food and lives, then you can eat that food and live.”

  Shrill cries of horror greeted the thought of a cat-sized rat right in the middle of their camp. Then, chastened but unrepentant, the women went about their work.

  * * *

  In the faint filtered moonlight, Annie staggered out of the hut yet again, heading to the latrine area. She found Suzy lying there, retching.

  Suzy said, “I think I’m dying.”

  “So do I,” gasped Annie, then threw up again. Once more, the agonizing pain squeezed her guts, and this time she didn’t have the strength to pull her underpants back on, let alone cover up the latrine hole. In fact she’d probably missed the hole. Who cared?

  Annie lay gasping in the undergrowth, her head only inches from her own vomit—or was it Suzy’s?—as she waited for the strength to move. She was vaguely conscious of someone else crawling around and retching. It sounded like Silvana.

  Then Annie’s guts were squeezed again, followed by a rush from her lower intestine, but she was too weak to move her legs.

  The sound of the women retching and stumbling out of the hut had awakened Jonathan. Taking his flashlight, he made his way to the latrine.

  In the beam of light Jonathan looked at the women, crawling around in their own filth or lying in a fetal position, sobbing, groaning or retching. Lying spread-eagled, Suzy looked unconscious.

  There was no point in bringing the poor cows back to foul the hut, he told himself. He’d gather elephant’s ears to clean them up, as soon as it was light. Then, he supposed, he’d have to bathe them.

  Their cramps had started shortly after they’d eaten Suzy’s fruit. How long was this going to hold up the raft? Jonathan wondered as he trudged back to the camp. He would scrape charcoal from the charred wood of the cooking fire and boil extra pails of water, because dysentery left you in a bad state of dehydration. As soon as it was light, he’d search for young, red ginger shoots. Two permanent jungle problems were constipation and diarrhea; pawpaw seeds loosened your gut, wild ginger bunged it up. Jonathan decided he could do with a few pawpaw seeds.

  * * *

  After that, everyone except Silvana swam naked in the lagoon; it seemed pointless to display modesty before the man who had nursed you and wiped you, washed you, then having carried you, naked, back to the hut, had patiently spooned fish gruel into your mouth and scraped the dribble away. And Silvana needed their pants to boil, then sieve water into her growing collection of bamboo pots.

  On Wednesday, November 21, the morning after Suzy brought back the fruit, Jonathan decided to take a quick dip. As he scrambled down the cliff path, he noticed that a rubber tire had been washed up on the beach. He had no proof, but he liked to think it was one of the tires he’d used as fenders on the Louise. He was sure that he could use it on the raft in some way, and brought it back to the camp.

  As he moved toward the jungle, he heard the drone of a low-flying aircraft and dived for cover, just before a small silver-blue amphibian flew directly overhead. They had seen or heard aircraft several times, but this was the first one actually to fly over the camp.

  To his horror and fury, Jonathan saw Suzy rush out onto an open patch of ground at the top of the waterfall. She jumped up and down on the black rocks waving her arms, an incongruous figure in her big man’s shirt and the makeshift trousers that Annie had made her from one of the other fishing shirts, using the arms as pants legs.

  Jonathan leaped out, grabbed Suzy from behind and dragged her back into cover, just before the aircraft passed overhead again.

  As he glared at her, his sandy eyebrows meeting above his bright blue eyes, Suzy yelled in fright because she’d never before seen him in a rage.

  “You bloody idiot!” he shouted. “Just because it’s a civilian plane don’t mean to say it’s got civilians in it! We’ve seen small military craft at sea, for all we know there’s still a war on, but you … you go out and wave, to tell ’em where we are!”

  “Nexus is bound to come looking for us,” Suzy said defensively. “I know that’s what Brett will do. Nexus has probably been searching for eight days. Why, I bet that plane is looking for us. Brett may have been in it!” She burst into tears. “You didn’t tell us not to wave to a plane, you arrogant bastard!”

  “There’s lots of things I ain’t warned you about, because I don’t know about ’em, but think before you act, you stupid bitch! Our plan is to hide until we get off the island. No good letting a bit of wishful thinking put everybody’s life in danger.”

  “I don’t have to do everything you say,” Suzy spat. “Just because the rest of them are following you with their tongues hanging out.”

  “They do what I say because I know how to look after myself better than they do and I know a bit more about the jungle.”

  “There’s more to it than that!” Suzy mimicked Jonathan’s flat Australian twang. “‘That ain’t bad, Annie’ … ‘Good work, Patty’ … ‘Couldn’t have done it better meself, Carey’ … Those stupid bitches don’t do anything unless you tell ’em. They grovel for your goddamned approval!”

  She’s right, Jonathan thought. Women are all the same—bloody babies when it comes to the test. But give ’em a man—any man—to take the final responsibility, and they’ll trot along behind him and do what he tells ’em to do—whatever it is.

  He said, “That’s just because I’m the only bloke around. I’m trying to encourage ’em—keep their spirits up.”

  “You’re a goddamn slave driver, and we’re dependent on you. And you love it, and so do they.” Suzy twisted herself free and stumbled back to the hut, sobbing with rage.

  As Suzy entered, Silvana said mildly, “I just swept that floor, don’t mess it up again. Jonathan said nothing gives the day so bad a start as treading with your bare feet on a scorpion hiding beneath the leaves.”

  In a fury, Suzy mimicked her. “‘Jonathan says! Jonathan says!’ To hell with what Jonathan says!”

  Suzy went outside and caught up an armful of leaves and bracken. She came back into the hut and scattered the debris over the floor, stamping and crying with fury as she did so.

  Jonathan poked his head around the side of the hut. “She’s just disappointed,” he explained to the astonished Silvana.

  “Well, so am I. She can damn well sweep the hut out by herself or she doesn’t get any breakfast. Say, did you hear that plane?”

  THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22

  Though they were still very weak, the women started to work again. They were building the raft on two smoothed skid logs, which would serve as rollers when the raft was pushed down the path to th
e beach.

  In their frail state, when the women started to lash the logs together with vines, they found it unbearably heavy and exhausting work.

  “I can’t go on much longer,” Carey panted.

  Jonathan kicked at the logs that Patty and Carey had been binding. Immediately the vines could be seen to loosen.

  Jonathan looked grim. “Lash it tighter, Carey. Your life is going to depend on that log, and so is mine.”

  “Look, I’m not qualified to do this sort of work.” Carey was irritable, as an overtired child is irritable. She looked at her bandaged hands and said, “I’ve never done practical carpentry. I just can’t do any better.”

  “None of us is qualified to do it,” Jonathan said. “And you can do it better. Use your foot to brace yourself as you pull the vines tight. Look, I’ll show you again.” He thought, Trouble with women is, they won’t persist, they give up at the first failure. Women ain’t hardened to disappointment, as men are.

  Carey wiped the sweat from her cheeks. She said apologetically, “I used to be able to do this sort of thing when I was young, but not since I had children. I’m not as strong as I used to be—and my hands are still painful.”

  “Oh, get on with it, or we’ll never get out of here,” Suzy said crossly.

  Silvana, who was partnered with Suzy, said in a tight voice, “You should talk, Suzy. You’re not even trying!” She looked up at Jonathan as he approached to kick the logs. “Suzy’s only pretending to pull. Look at her hands, they’re not blistered like mine. And she’s careless. Just look at these logs! You can see that the vines are loose without even pulling at them!”

  Suzy scowled. “I’m about ninety pounds lighter than you are, Silvana! That’s why I can’t pull as hard on the vines. And I expect your hands are blistered because you’ve never done a lick of work in your life.”

  In a placatory voice, Annie said, “We can’t afford to be impatient or careless. We don’t want this thing to come apart in the water.”

  Suzy threw down her vines and said, “Are you insinuating—”

  Patty yelled, “I am, if she’s not. I’ve been watching you!”

  The basic conflict that existed between the women had lain dormant, for they had been company wives and therefore expected always to behave politely to each other.

  “Suzy always shirks her work,” Silvana accused.

  “I’m not built like an ox, Silvana. And I don’t eat more than my ration. You always steal food before you serve it to us.”

  “I have to check the taste, don’t I? And I’ve pulled my belt in four inches since we’ve been here. That wouldn’t happen if I were stealing food.” Silvana glared and thrust out her arms. “Look at my hands! How would you like to gut the fish?”

  “I’d rather be paddling around and catching them like Patty,” Suzy snapped. “She’s having a goddamned fishing vacation! And as for that hulking Amazon Carey, she’s slower than I am on the raft.”

  Carey yelled, “That’s because I’m the only one doing it right.”

  Jonathan raised his voice above the screaming accusations and catty backbiting. “You should all be trying to work as a team; this bleedin’ raft is the most important thing in our lives. You ain’t assembling this raft with love and care. You hate the goddamn thing.”

  “What the hell do you mean, work as a team?” Patty asked.

  “You’re working like footballers who don’t know the passes, you’re working as if you’re playing mixed doubles with a tennis partner you ain’t never met before.”

  Carey said, “He’s right. We have to learn to cooperate, and be on the lookout for each other’s weaknesses.”

  Trying to make peace, Annie said, “Suzy can’t pull the vines hard enough, because she hasn’t the strength, but she’s very nimble-fingered. Her knots are good. Patty’s knots aren’t good, because she’s impatient and that makes her careless—but she’s strong, so she can pull hard. So maybe Suzy and Patty should work together.”

  Patty said, “Your own knots aren’t that great, Annie.”

  The fight flared up until all five women were yelling again. Accusations and counteraccusations about bad work on the raft led to more personal attacks. Whereas none of the women could see their own mistakes and weaknesses, for years in Pittsburgh, they had all observed each other carefully, so each knew the faults of the others and, like sisters, could deftly aim verbal darts, hitting exactly where it hurt most.

  They all knew that vain Suzy, who was sloppy about everything except her appearance, never allowed a dark root to show in her long blond hair. They had all seen lazy Silvana neglect her role as the president’s wife. They all felt that Carey flaunted her career achievements, but cared more about the appearance of her house than the comfort of her family, who had to sit on those spindly Shaker chairs. They were all aware that Annie was so afraid of upsetting people that she let them walk all over her. And that stubborn, guilt-ridden Patty—she was so preoccupied by her role as Florence Nightingale to her child that Charley never got any peace at home. They said as much, and more.

  Exasperated, Jonathan slammed on his sun hat, took his rifle and walked away into the jungle.

  They continued to quarrel for about thirty minutes after his departure, by which time every woman’s weakness had been bluntly pointed out, the unforgivable had been clearly stated and the limits of bitterness reached.

  Suddenly Patty shrieked above the angry voices. “What’s that noise?”

  Immediately there was silence. Nobody moved. The women strained their ears.

  Eventually Suzy spat, “Just Patty’s goddamn nerves again.”

  But the women had been reminded that they lived in constant danger. Terrified, they fled back to camp. Reassured by the smoking campfire they continued to smolder with indignation and resentment, but in silence.

  As their rage started to subside, each woman felt alone and unprotected, raw and naked. Each wanted to weep solitary tears of rage. For they knew that they were stuck in the jungle—and stuck with each other.

  Suddenly, they heard a loud crashing noise. It grew nearer and nearer, tearing through the undergrowth.

  In an instant every woman was on her feet.

  Patty and Carey whipped their fish knives from their belts and crouched, tense and expectant, as they faced toward the thudding creature crashing through the undergrowth; their hearts thumped, they were conscious of each breath they drew. Silvana, who had been wearing fishing gloves, grabbed a smoldering branch from the fire to use as a weapon. Annie picked up two large stones. Suzy fled in the direction of the cave chimney.

  They heard his hoarse whisper before he appeared from the bushes, hatless, and with bleeding scratches on his face.

  “Run to the cave shaft …” Jonathan gasped for breath. “Terrorists … on … track.” He fought for his words. As Silvana quickly started to douse the fire, he gasped, “Take your knives … Patty lead ’em … I’ll wait here … Distract ’em … Move!”

  15

  Crouching in the dank-smelling darkness of the cave, Patty whispered nervously, “What do you think those natives were doing?”

  “Dunno,” Jonathan said. “Like I told you, there was two of ’em, just walking along as if they was out for a stroll on Sunday. Maybe they was heading for the village. Maybe their aunty lives in Katanga. Maybe they got a girl there, I dunno. But I thought we’d best be down here.”

  “Lucky you went off alone,” Carey pointed out.

  After a pause, Jonathan said, “I shouldn’t’ve done it. I’ve seen you frightened and hungry, tired and sick, and I swear to God you’ve been great. So maybe I expected too much of you when it came to building the raft.” He knew that hard work under pressure shows up a person’s weaknesses, and it can be a shock. Although everybody has them, not many people know or admit their true weaknesses. And if you don’t admit them, you can’t conquer them. Self-knowledge is the nearest thing a person can have to real security, he reckoned.

  He said, “No m
atter how many penthouses or pearl necklaces you lot got back in Pittsburgh, all you got here is you. But that’s enough to get us out of here.”

  Patty wondered whether this was psychology or religion or Dale Carnegie. She said, “So?”

  “We’re going to need self-discipline to get us out. But if we build that raft properly, we’ll make it. We’ll maybe look a bit scruffy and we’ll be pretty tired and scratched, and sick of boiled fish and ants, but we will get out, so long as you lot remember two things.”

  Oh, God, Suzy thought. Another of his pep talks!

  Obligingly Carey said, “Okay, what’s the first thing?”

  “You must believe that we’re going to get out. Otherwise you ain’t going to give it your best try.”

  “And the second thing?” Carey asked.

  “The stronger ones must help the weaker ones. We ain’t going to abandon the injured or ill, we help ’em till the group has got its strength back. You gotta realize that nobody’s going to get left behind. We move as a group, at the speed of the slowest person. Anyone who feels impatient must realize that right now. You especially, Patty. Today, Suzy was a bit slow on the knots, but tomorrow it might be you. No use feeling cross or sorry for yerself—because that’s the way it’s going to be, until we kiss this place goodbye.”

  “We can’t make the raft if we’re stuck down here,” Carey grumbled.

  Patty anxiously asked again, “What do you think those natives were doing on the track?”

  “As soon as it’s dark, I’ll shin up and check,” Jonathan said. “And, as I don’t like thinking what might have happened if they’d come across you while I wasn’t around, we’re going to have a few lessons in self-defense.”

  “Self-defense,” Silvana echoed. “But I couldn’t … it’s impossible.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Carey said cheerfully. “My girls are going to take karate classes as soon as they’re old enough.” Boys had boxing lessons and joined ROTC. She and Ed had decided that girls needed self-defense lessons more than boys.