Penelope joyfully clapped her hands. “I’ll bring the bottle!”
Once in the village, Josh sought out Ready, who was leaning against the banyan tree with his arms around the waists of two smiling young Maries. “I’m going to be busy for a bit,” Josh said. “Send someone to the Rosemary to man a gun and keep lookout.”
Ready confirmed he’d heard the order, although all he did in response was hug the girls closer. Kava had done its work on him. Josh and Penelope walked, though a bit unsteadily, to the fire circled by dancing people. Before they reached it, Josh was astonished to see that a white sheet had been strung between two short palm trees and a movie projector was busily projecting moving images on it. It was a newsreel. President Roosevelt flickered on the sheet, then Churchill making his V-for-victory sign with his second and third fingers. Davey, one of the stranded sailors, sidled up next to him. “They had that film when I got here, sir, and the projector and that little generator, too. Only thing was they didn’t know how to hook it all together. Billy and I did it for them. Joe Gimmee loves this newsreel. He’s watched it at least a thousand times since I’ve been here. Like to wore it out.”
“Where’d this stuff come from?”
Davey shrugged. “Beats me. The projector and generator’s got GI serial numbers on them, though.”
Penelope pulled Josh away and started wiggling her hips in rhythm with a band of flutes and drums. In fact, Penelope wiggled her hips like no one Josh ever imagined could. Sweat poured off his face, and it was not entirely because of the heat of the fire, or the exertion of the dance, or even the effects of the rum. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Penelope’s exotic and erotic movements. He had quite forgotten that she owed him information concerning Joe Gimmee’s special place to which he needed to go. Penelope hadn’t forgotten, however. Late in the night, she whispered the place into his ear, along with a lick of her tongue, and Josh stopped his own awkward gyrations to absorb the information.
“What an odd turn life sometimes takes,” he said. Then he shrugged and started dancing again, a happy man with his woman.
53
High over the sea beneath the stars, the great frigate bird flew, its giant wings spread to catch the mildest wafting breeze. Others of its fellows soared with it, their dark feathers making them all but invisible. The sharp night eyes of the ancient bird watched all that was below and took note of the gray boat that coughed awake on the gray beach, then, churning white froth, withdrew into the deeper waters. A ball of sardines was disrupted and sparkled enticingly as they tried to come back together. The frigate bird dived for them taking the opportunity for a night feeding. Since its feathers were not waterproof, it had to skim along the surface of the black sea, dipping its beak to snatch a meal, then rising once more. Others of its fellows made similar snatches, and pelicans, startled awake, came over to see what the fuss was all about.
The gray boat grumbled ahead, the man at the wheel bare-chested and not entirely steady on his feet. The giant wake of the boat stirred up phosphorescence and there came whooshing sounds as the pelicans began to dive into the sea, again and again, only to meet the frigate birds who slammed into them until they dropped their fish. Triumphantly, the frigate birds caught the fish in midair and flapped away.
At the entrance to the harbor, another watercraft sat there, waiting. It was painted white, clearly visible even in the light of the false dawn, and was long and thin. Men could be seen running on its deck, and a tarp was flung off a big gun. The man at the wheel of the gray boat crouched down. There were other men on the boat, but they were all asleep, their prostrate forms draped here and there. The gray boat’s bow raised high into the air, and it began to race toward the open sea. The long white boat also began to make way, and there came a loud thud and a ring of smoke from the deck gun. The ancient frigate bird shuddered when the noise of the blast reached it. It turned away while the boats below began to race through the water. The thud of the deck gun sounded again, and then again, echoing into the harbor, and into the village that lay behind it.
54
The sun had burned its way above the pink clouds on the horizon when Penelope walked to the beach with Joe Gimmee. “I am afraid, Father,” she said, “Do you think the Japoni submarine caught Josh Thurlow?”
Joe Gimmee smiled. “While you slept, I watched from that bluff over there. The Japoni submarine did not catch the father of your child, but it was drawn away as I hoped. Josh Thurlow has an odd kind of luck, I think. He is often in trouble, yet he seems to have a knack for survival. Perhaps he is loved by the gods, or at least he amuses them. The good thing is that the Japoni are gone and will not keep us from our treasure.”
“I am also confused, Father,” she said. “Why do we need treasure? Don’t we have plenty to eat and drink in these islands? Don’t we have homes and our canoes? And here, a man and a woman might find love easily enough. What else is required?”
Joe Gimmee stopped to answer Penelope’s question. “It is not the treasure that is important,” he explained. “It is the regard of the gods. They make the treasure and give it to those who show them the proper respect. Since we don’t know how to show that respect, I fear they will think we hate them. I’m certain this has caused them to be angry and is why we have lived in servitude to the white people for all these years.”
“But the white people do not seem to be happy, even though they receive the treasure of the gods.”
“Yes, that is puzzling,” Joe Gimmee confessed. “I shall want to ask the great Joe about this.”
“Who is the great Joe, Father?”
“The one from which I take my worshipful name, dear.” Joe Gimmee stopped to inspect his daughter. “Are you happy, little one?”
“I am happy,” Penelope said. “Though I already miss my sailor boy so very much.” She patted her flat stomach. “But I suppose I will always have him through our child. Once, when Josh Thurlow lay on top of me, I looked up into the trees and saw a bird of many colors. He was watching us. I think it was a god, blessing our act.”
“Or perhaps only a parrot,” Joe Gimmee replied, picking up his pace again. “Since the gods deserted us after the British came, it has been difficult to tell when one is around.”
Penelope followed her father to the beach, where the people were gathered before a big fleet of canoes. He nodded to his captains, fierce warriors dressed in their finest lap-laps and shell necklaces with feathers in their hair and bones through their noses and ears. “All is in readiness,” they told him. “Today, we will see the great Joe, after whom you are named.”
Joe Gimmee peered at a man named Billeebo, who was from the far south. “Billeebo, are you certain the great Joe will come?”
“Yes,” Billeebo answered. “We need only prepare for him.”
Joe Gimmee smiled, displaying his upper teeth and lower gums. “Then it is time for us to go.”
The people climbed into their canoes, and soon they were all at sea. The only people left in the village were three people who had fallen ill and the two Japanese sailors.
• • •
Kennedy was astonished by the sight he beheld from the veranda. During the night, he thought he’d had a dream, that he’d heard the Rosemary come to take him home. Now he saw it had been no dream. The Rosemary was there, her bow pushed up on the sand, although there appeared to be no one alive aboard her.
He roused Mumba to come and help him. Seeing the bodies on the deck, Mumba refused to climb aboard. The first man Kennedy came to was Ready, slumped over the starboard machine gun. He touched the man’s neck, afraid that he wouldn’t feel a heartbeat, but was pleased when there was a strong throb against his fingers. He also got a whiff of the man’s breath. It was sour and suspicious. “I think he’s drunk,” Kennedy said, though on what he couldn’t imagine since it didn’t smell like alcohol. He left Ready and inspected all the other bodies. “Hell, they’re all drunk! Mumba, come aboard and help me carry these men to shore. You savvy?”
&n
bsp; “Not finished altogether?” Mumba asked nervously.
“Not quite,” Kennedy said. “You savvy all same drink’m too much?”
A light came into Mumba’s eyes. He clambered aboard, only to be met by a suddenly awake Marvin in full mouth-foaming fury. Mumba went screaming for the missus with Marvin at his heels. “Bloody hell,” Kennedy sighed, and started going from man to man. One by one, at his urging, they sat up, some only to crawl to the side to disgorge the contents of their stomachs into the sea. Thurlow was found curled in the cockpit, his hands tucked between his knees. His breath was pure alcohol. When Kennedy touched him, he said, “Not now, Penelope.”
“I’m not Penelope, you great fool!” Kennedy snapped.
After some blinking and smacking of his lips, Josh finally crawled out of the cockpit to lean against the starboard machine-gun cupola. “Where are we?”
“Noa-Noa,” Kennedy answered. “Where did you think? You must have come in this morning, just after sunrise.”
“I think I remember now,” Josh said, holding his head. “I drove through the night straight across the Vella Gulf, dead reckoning for Noa-Noa all the way. There was a Jap submarine after us. All I could do was run from it. I couldn’t keep any of the boys awake long enough to fight. Too much kava. I kept going to sleep myself. Then I woke and I was headed straight for the plantation. I almost ran into the dock. Best I could do was push up into the sand. But look, Kennedy, it don’t matter. What matters is we found Joe Gimmee. He told me Armistead is here, on Noa-Noa. There’s supposed to be some kind of ceremony today, and Armistead will show up.”
“I know all about it,” Kennedy replied, to Josh’s astonishment.
Felicity came running down the path from the house with John-Bull and Mumba. Mumba was carrying a bucket of water and a ladle. John-Bull was carrying ajar filled with white pills. Marvin was trotting along most happily beside them, apparently having decided the houseboy wasn’t the enemy after all. All came on board. “Mumba, give these boys water,” Felicity said. “John, two aspirin, no more.”
Mumba and John-Bull picked a crewman at random and offered him the ladle. It was Once, and he took it greedily. Then John-Bull silently handed over the two aspirin, which were also devoured. They moved to the next boy, who happened to be brother Again.
“Water is the only thing for a hangover, no matter what they say,” Felicity announced. “It dilutes the blood. Drink as much as you can! And aspirin, of course.” She knelt beside Josh. “Well, Commander Thurlow. Aren’t we the sight?”
“Stop shouting,” Josh answered, pressing his fingers into his temples.
“I am talking in a most reasonable tone of voice. I’m afraid you are a bit sensitive today. What happened?”
Kennedy answered for him. “He met Joe Gimmee, who told him Armistead was on the island. I haven’t told him that we had dinner with Armistead last night.”
Josh raised his head. “What? Did you grab him?”
“Grab him?” Felicity asked. “Oh, I see what you mean. No, we are fresh out of chains and shackles here on the old plantation. Sorry, Commander. In fact, we had a very pleasant evening with them.”
“Them?”
“Penelope, it turns out, has a half sister. Her name is Victoria.”
“Where is Armistead?” Josh demanded, while trying to not rattle his skull too much.
“Listen, Josh, take two aspirin and water, lots of water. Then, when you are feeling better, come up to the house and we will discuss all this like civilized people. Jack, you come with me. You need your breakfast. Victoria told me Joe Gimmee will not arrive until some time after noon. We will feed you all. There is fish left from the evening. Cook will prepare it.”
At the sound of the proposed breakfast, Kennedy tried not to screw up his face, but he did, and Felicity saw it. “You didn’t care for the fish?”
“It was delicious,” Kennedy lied. “And served cold for breakfast, I’m certain it will be only better.”
The cold, bony fish wasn’t any better, although neither Kennedy nor Josh was willing to confess it to Felicity or John-Bull, who happily devoured it and washed it down with the bitter tea. The conversation over breakfast included what Armistead had said the evening before and what Josh had learned on Vella Lavella. Kennedy’s additional news about the palms at Chuma hanging by vines left Josh scratching his head. “How far is Chuma?” he asked Felicity.
“It’s on the northern end of the island,” Felicity answered. “About six miles from here.”
Josh checked his watch. It was already nearly ten o’clock. “We’d best get going as soon as we can. I don’t intend to take the gunboat. Joe Gimmee thought it would attract Japanese, and I think he’s right, especially that damned sub. I’ll have the boys tuck her away.”
“There’s a river outflow just south of here with plenty of overhanging trees. Might be a good place,” Felicity said.
With breakfast finished, Josh went off to search for life among his boys. They had dragged themselves to the beach, where they lay, ignoring the mosquitoes chewing on them. “Ready! Get up, son. You can do it. Now, listen. Take the boat—stand up straight now, stop wobbling—take the boat and ease her into that river over there. Beneath those trees. Camouflage her as best you can. Then you stay with her, understand? Keep the boys on board, too. Make sure they get sobered up. Coffee. Lots of coffee. Get Stobs up, too, and tell him to crank up his radio. Tell him to call Eureka, tell him the entire situation. Without Vella’s mountain in the way, he should be able to get through. I’m going to take the Very gun. Keep a lookout for a flare from the north end of the island. You see one, come running, and be prepared to fight your way through to me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, so that’s about all I can tell you. And whatever you do, watch out for that I-boat!”
Felicity, having come down to the beach, asked, “Josh, do you think you might consent to transporting my copra back to Melagi? I might find a boat there to carry it the rest of the way to Australia.”
“I’ll give it some thought, Missus,” Josh said formally. “But I can’t promise. First, we’ve got to get this day done and see what’s what.”
“Oh, posh,” she said. “I have been thinking about what’s going to happen. If all this has to do with Joe Gimmee, it is some kind of animist religious rite. I think we are going to see some ridiculous chanting and dancing and then it will be over. What else, after all, could it be?”
A sudden din of banging pans and cursing emanated from the kitchen, and Felicity excused herself. Kennedy, coming down the path from the house, passed her. “What now?” he asked Josh.
“We grab Armistead,” Josh said with grim determination. “And then deliver him to Colonel Burr on Melagi. After that, I guess you go back to Lumbari.”
“Not Lumbari. Probably Australia. They’ve pushed up my court-martial, and Admiral Halsey is running the show.”
“Are you worried?”
“Guilty men usually are. I don’t have much of a defense. How could that destroyer have run me down if I hadn’t been inattentive? Two other PT boat captains saw the damned thing heading my way. Why didn’t I?”
“They saw it because they were running away.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were south of you, heading toward Lumbari as fast as they could go. That’s why they saw the destroyer and you didn’t. It was coming at you from the south.”
“You’ve got it wrong. I was hit by a destroyer coming down from the north toward New Georgia. The other two boats must have been north of me.”
“No, they weren’t, you lunkhead. What were you doing when you got struck?”
“Well, I was patrolling back and forth west of Kolombangara.”
“What was your heading?”
Kennedy gave the question some thought. “Southwesterly, as I recall. Due west would have taken me into some reefs.”
“And where were the Japanese destroyers?”
“North of me, of course.”
&n
bsp; “North? Think about it, Jack. You were going more or less west to south. If the destroyer had been north of you heading south, it would have appeared on your stern quarter but instead it sliced along your bow. Don’t you get it? You were run over by a destroyer coming back from New Georgia, probably while it was turning toward Kolombangara! I knew it the instant I read your report. You see, I have access to intelligence reports that others don’t. That night, the Tokyo Express came through earlier than usual to support an evacuation off New Georgia. They went right past your flotilla, and none of you saw them, not even the boats with radar. Then all the other PT’s ran for home, but not you, Jack. You stayed out there in the dark all by yourself. That makes you a damn hero! Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everybody knows it, too, including Admiral Halsey. I’ve got some powerful sway with him.”
Kennedy’s mouth had slowly fallen open during Josh’s discourse. “You son of a bitch. Why did you wait until now to tell me this?”
Josh grinned. “Call it an exercise in motivation.”
Kennedy balled his fists. “Well, call this an exercise in getting your lights knocked out. Put your dukes up, Thurlow.”
Josh did not put up his dukes, and he easily dodged the small, hard fist that was swung at his nose. He caught the next one in his big ham hand. “That’ll be enough of that, Jack. You’ve proved yourself during this operation, not only to me, but Ready, too. So thank you for a job well done, and don’t worry about that court-martial. It won’t happen. Now, let’s go collect Armistead and end this thing.”
The canoes were at sea, hundreds of them. It didn’t take long before three Rufes, patrolling out of Bougainville, spotted them. Their leader, one Lieutenant Mamoru Ichikawa, recently rescued from Mary Island, hand-signaled the other two Rufes and they dropped out of the sky to an altitude of one hundred feet, flashing across the wooden fleet. Out of the corner of his eye, Ichikawa saw a net being cast and hands raised in friendly waves. He pulled up, his men following him in perfect formation. After they came up to his wingtips, Ichikawa shrugged, and his pilots responded the same. He signaled to keep going south, in search of American targets.