Josh jutted out his scarred chin. “I don’t care to argue with you on the street, Sister. Mendacity? If that means a man has to do what a man has to do, I plead guilty.”
“Posh!” she snapped, then gladly went back to the children, who quickly gathered around her with their shy smiles. At least they were not afflicted with false and foolish pride as were so many adults, especially big American captains.
“She’s a spirited thing,” Josh said, watching after Sister Mary Kathleen, “but she’s often wrongheaded.”
“We will be pleased to hear all about that and more, Captain,” Mr. Bucknell replied as diplomatically as his post required. Then he led the way toward food and words.
31
The “temporary government house of the Far Reaches” proved to be a board shack with a tin roof. Waiting inside was a young woman who wore a high-neck gown and had a flower in her long and shimmering black hair. She was apparently expecting visitors, as she had already set out on a rude table several plates of diced coconut, banana slices, and other succulent fruits. While Josh and the chief ate, Bucknell explained the shack had been built by an Australian named Old Burt who had tried to make a go of raising coconuts for copra. “This was his plantation house,” Bucknell said as he set three tumblers on a makeshift bar consisting of a plank laid between two barrels. “His grave is out back. Died of fever, which is not common here. He was an old Solomon Islands hand. Caught it there, most likely.”
The chief provided a little more background. “Old Burt belong many wimmins. Old Burt sick. All wimmins go. Nobody come. He die.”
Bucknell smiled. “Precisely. Now, although it is still morning, may I propose a gin and tonic for a round of toasts prior to our conference?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any rum on you?” Josh asked.
“Sorry, old man. Gin is the preferred anesthetic of the white man in these islands.”
Bucknell retrieved an unlabeled bottle of clear liquid from a termite-riddled hutch, as well as ajar of liquid Josh supposed was tonic, then mixed them in another jar and poured the contents into the only slightly dirty tumblers. “We take it neat in the Far Reaches, of course,” Bucknell said. “I haven’t seen an ice cube since the war began. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen ice since I’ve been here, which is going on eleven years, save a bucket on a yacht sailed by a trio of American millionaires who bumbled out this way back in ‘35.” He handed the drinks over, then proposed a toast. “To the king, God save him, the president, God bless him, and our friend the chief, God have him.”
“Salut,” Josh toasted, raising his tumbler.
Chief Kalapa also raised his tumbler, then downed its contents in a single gulp. “My word! Good fella gin!” He belched and smacked his lips in the island style.
Josh took a swallow and felt the liquid burn all the way down his gullet. Then he followed Chief Kalapa’s example and finished it off. “Fine stuff, Mr. Bucknell,” he rasped.
“I managed to escape with a good stock from Ruka,” Bucknell said after an appreciative sip. “What I will do when it runs out, I have no idea. Probably kill myself, I shouldn’t wonder.”
They had another drink and exchanged more pleasantries, in the course of which Josh discovered that Mr. Bucknell had inherited a pile of money, then lost it due to a combination of the Depression and gambling, and that his posting to the Far Reaches was to get rid of him when his poverty had become an embarrassment to his peers. “In other words,” Bucknell concluded, “I’m an Englishman, down on his luck, but fortunate to have an opportunity to serve my king and country.”
Josh said, “A good story, and I like it. As for me, I am the son of a light-house keeper, grew up on the island of Killakeet on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and am now a professional coast guard officer.”
Bucknell’s eyes sparkled impishly. “And sent amongst us savages for what purpose, Captain?”
Josh pondered the question, then said, “I was shanghaied by that nun.” Then Josh explained how she’d accomplished it, becoming angry as he told the story and letting his repressed resentment boil over.
Bucknell and Chief Kalapa shared a glance, and then Bucknell said, “I confess when I first saw you I hoped you had come to send the Japanese packing.”
“With two sound marines and a bosun? No, Mr. Bucknell. I fear not.”
Chief Kalapa said, “We know you go along Burubu. One Tahila fella boy fish Burubu. See Japonee come along. Too much smoke, too much peoples cry, Burubu peoples all finish, he think. Then Japonee go, you come along, and Tahila fella boy come along here, say all same.”
“That about sums it up, Chief,” Josh said.
“Tell us what you found on Burubu, Captain,” Bucknell said.
Josh described the massacre, and upon his conclusion, Chief Kalapa struck himself in the face to demonstrate his grief.
“Please don’t do that, Chief,” Josh begged.
Bucknell said, “It is most odd, Captain, that suddenly we see Colonel Yoshu on the move. He has been content to stay on Ruka and leave the outlying islands alone. Now, for whatever reason, he’s become active. We assume this island will be next.”
“And I assume you’re correct,” Josh said, “and when he comes, he will do the same thing here he did on Burubu. So here’s my proposal, gentlemen: Let us load the outriggers with everyone on Tahila and clear out.”
The chief frowned. “No many marine come along Far Reaches?”
“No, Chief. No many marines. No Americans at all, other than us.”
“Why is that, old man?” Bucknell asked.
“I’ll draw you a picture, Mr. Bucknell. Could I borrow your umbrella? Thank you.”
Josh used the tip of the umbrella to draw on the sand floor of the shack. “Here’s Australia—see that, Chief?—you savvy Australia? Now, just to the east are the Solomons—Guadalcanal, New Georgia, and so forth. We finally took the Solomons …”
“I didn’t know that!” Bucknell exclaimed. “Good show! How are my fellow colonialists there? I knew more than a few of the plantation owners.”
Bucknell’s question stirred up a few painful memories for Josh, who had fought for so long in the Solomons. “Most of the British left before the Japanese arrived,” he informed the diplomat. “Those that didn’t, for the most part, I’m sorry to tell you, were murdered. A few men served as coast-watchers or formed irregular forces using loyal natives. When the Japanese started building an airfield on Guadalcanal, our marines landed, followed by regular army and National Guard troops. I was there, too, on an inspection trip for the secretary of the navy. We were all raw, and it was a close-run thing for nearly a year as we fought up through the chain of the Solomons. But finally, though we lost a bunch of fine men, we beat them. New Guinea and Tarawa were next. They were bloody, awful battles, but we beat them there, too. I’m sorry, Mr. Bucknell, but on all the islands, the old plantations have been abandoned. Most of the British colonists have decamped for home or Australia.”
“I fear this war will spell the end of our empire,” Bucknell said after absorbing Josh’s story. “Perhaps all empires.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Bucknell. You could be right. First we got to win the blamed thing, then sort out the results.” Josh went back to his sand cartoon. “Now, look here. Up here to the north of the Solomons is New Guinea, and then way up here the Philippines. General MacArthur with mostly army troops plans to sweep up this line. He wants to free the Philippines before moving on to Japan.”
Chief Kalapa stared at Josh’s drawing, tugged at his chin, then shrugged. “Wrong way,” he said.
“Yes, Chief. It’s the wrong way, at least for clearing the Japanese from this part of the Pacific. But the United States Navy, under Admiral Nimitz, has a different idea.” Josh sketched on. “Here’s Tarawa over here. See where I’m dotting the sand, Chief? North are the Marshalls about here, then the Marianas, the Volcanos, Okinawa about here, then Japan. You see? That’s the way Admiral Nimitz is going to go with his nav
y and his marines. All the way to Japan. The Army Air Force likes this plan since it will allow their bombers to get closer to the cities. They plan on pounding them into dust.”
“How long do you think victory will take?” Bucknell asked. “Depends on who you talk to. I figure the army and the navy will get to Okinawa about the same time and then join up. That will take about two years. Then it’ll take another three to beat the Japanese in their home islands.”
Bucknell’s face fell. “Five more years of war?”
“At least. Unless somebody has a big secret weapon up their sleeves. From what I saw on the Solomons and Tarawa, we’ll have to pretty much kill every man, woman, and child in Japan to beat them. I don’t know if we have the stomach for that. Anyway, Chief, look here. About here is the Far Reaches. See how they’re way off by themselves? See the two arrows I’ve drawn pointing toward Japan, one going up the left and the other the right? You ain’t on either one of those tracks. So killing Japonee here won’t help the Americans get up to Tokyo. Savvy?”
“Many Japonee belong this place,” Chief Kalapa insisted.
Josh handed him Bucknell’s umbrella. “Show me your islands, would you, Chief? I don’t quite recall how they’re laid out.”
Chief Kalapa looked doubtfully at the umbrella, then poked its snout into the sand. “What I do?”
“Draw the Far Reaches.”
Chief Kalapa stared at the sand, stirred it with the point of the umbrella, then handed the implement to Bucknell. “Far Reaches belong here,” he said, touching a finger to his head. “Me see all land. Me see all ocean water. Me see village here, there. Me see all. No see nothing in sand.”
Bucknell stirred Josh’s war cartoon into oblivion and started drawing. “I can show you, Captain. The Forridges include many small islands, some inhabited, some not. The main islands run along an east-to-west arc. The biggest is Ruka, over here to the east. It is the seat of government. Then, going westward, Burubu and Tahila. Tahila is the far reaches of the Far Reaches.”
Josh studied the map. “Tell me what happened when Jap arrived on Ruka, Mr. Bucknell.”
“Certainly. Though we knew the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor and attacked across the Pacific, we hoped for a time we might be spared their attention, though their aircraft flew across us several times. Then, one fine day, they waltzed in aboard two barges, marched into town, tore down the Union Jack, ran up the Rising Sun, and gave a big banzai! After that, they proceeded to round up any Europeans they could find. That included me, the priests and nuns, and an Irish-American barkeep named Carl Spurlock plus his wife Gertie and his other wife Tilly. We were herded inside the government house, and there we waited, for what we did not know.”
Bucknell frowned at what was an obviously unpleasant memory. “We were made to squat on the floor of the library, our hands tied at our backs, until a tall, handsome Nip all trumped up in braids and brass strutted in as if he owned the place, which, I suppose, he did. This proved to be Colonel Hideo Yoshu, a charming monster, who harangued us for a while, not that any of us could understand him, and then a young officer put it all into English. The upshot of it was that we were beneath the good colonel’s interest but if we had any money or gold or jewels or anything of value, and if we turned it over to him forthwith, he might decide not to execute us. Father Ballester, as brave an Irishman as I’ve ever known, stood up and argued that we were all civilian noncombatants and that the colonel had no right to keep us prisoners or take our worldly goods. Yoshu conceded that the priest had presented a most excellent argument, and to demonstrate his appreciation, he had one of his bully boys thank the good father with a rifle butt. After that, several of them stomped on Father Ballester until they’d broken both his arms and a good number of his ribs, which must have punctured a lung, as he began to spit up gobs of blood. The rest of us, to our shame, did nothing. Some of us even looked away.”
“How about Sister Mary Kathleen?”
Bucknell gave the question some thought. “Quite honestly, I don’t recall that she was there. She might have been. She was always such a little mouse, maybe I missed her. Anyway, the priests and nuns were praying incessantly, and I guess you might say they called up a miracle. An airplane flew over and dropped a single bomb in the harbor. This made Colonel Yoshu and his troops panic and run for the hills, leaving us unguarded. Funny thing is, I believe the bomb was accidentally dropped by a Japanese bomber. Anyhoo, we got ourselves untied; then Spurlock, his two wives, and I slipped down to the harbor and thence aboard Spurlock’s launch. Long story short, we ended up here. I made common cause with Chief Kalapa and set up shop—someone must run the empire’s bureaucracy, after all. Carl and his girls now live on the northern shore of the island. After you’ve rested, I’ll take you to visit. I think he’d enjoy meeting a fellow Yank.”
Josh absorbed the story, then asked, “What happened to the priests and nuns?”
“I begged them to come with us, but even with the offer of free booze, which, believe me, had to be a considerable attraction to Father O’Toole, they refused. The Mother Superior said Father Ballester was too injured to travel and, in any case, she and the others could not abandon the people of Ruka. In effect, they were signing their own death warrants, but I think they knew that.”
“So how was it…?” Josh began, then stopped his question when a shadow fell across the sand cartoon of the Far Reaches. “What is it, Ready?”
“Beg pardon, sir, but we got all the ordnance unloaded and I put the marines to guarding it. Should we build ourselves a hut or something?”
“A hut? What are you thinking, Bosun? We’re only going to be here a couple of days at most. We’ll sleep on the beach.”
Ready shrugged. “On the beach it is, sir. I’m certain the sand fleas will enjoy our company Sorry to interrupt.”
Josh shook his head at Ready’s near-insubordination but let it pass. “Go away,” he told him, “and don’t come back to talk to me about anything, unless the Japanese are attacking. Clear?”
“Very clear, sir.”
Ready left, and Bucknell said, “You were hard on that man, Captain.”
“Yes, I was, because he requires discipline. He is in love, you see, an unrequited love, and it has muddled his mind.”
“Unrequited love is a difficult burden,” Bucknell acknowledged. “Such is rare on this island, the women being too kind to allow it. If a man loves a woman, she will at least make certain he isn’t sexually frustrated, even if she doesn’t love him enough to marry him, a most civilized tradition, I must say. But back to cases. Captain, I should like to formally request that you reconsider your plan to abandon us.” He nodded toward Chief Kalapa. “I know the chief and I know his people. They will not go. This is their home and they would die if they had to leave. Nor will I go, for I have a duty to represent His Majesty’s government here. Will you not stay and help defend us?”
“Me stay,” Chief Kalapa confirmed. “You stay along, Jahtalo. Fight Japonee.”
Josh was incredulous. “It would be past foolishness to even think about it. You see, there is a further consideration.” Then Josh told the diplomat and the chief about the message nailed to the cross. “Colonel Yoshu wants that nun, though I don’t know why. He probably has no idea she headed to Tarawa and collected me up. He likely thinks she’s been hiding on one island or another and he’s been searching them, big and small. Tahila is surely in his sights. He’s coming, and he’ll likely kill everyone on Tahila when he does.”
Bucknell frowned. “But you brought rifles and machine guns with you. Why did you do that if you didn’t plan to fight?”
“That was Sister Mary Kathleen’s idea, not mine. If you are bound and determined to stay, I’ll leave all that ordnance with you. My boys and I will just take what we need for the voyage.”
Bucknell sighed after a short ponder. “Your advice is sound, Captain. Chief Kalapa and I will discuss it.” He gave the chief the eye, nodding toward the door. “For now, duty calls us bot
h. Please make yourself at home here in my office. We shall talk more later.”
Bucknell and the chief rose, gravely shook Josh’s hand in turn, and went out the door. “You have a day to make up your mind, no more than two!” Josh called after them.
“We understand, old man,” Bucknell answered over his shoulder. Then he and the chief walked on down the common road, their heads close as they conversed.
Josh shrugged, told himself he’d done his best, and then, as invited, made himself at home.
He was still making himself at home an hour later, mainly by drinking a great deal of the Britisher’s gin, when Sister Mary Kathleen found him. “A word, Captain?” she asked, then knew instantly by his crooked smile that he was inebriated.
“Sure, Sister,” Josh said. “How about a gin and tonic?”
“Faith, I am not an imbiber of alcoholic spirits.”
“Why not? Nothing in the Bible against it. Jesus drank wine. Even made some for his ma, best I recall.”
“Many men in my village were drunks,” she answered. “I chose to avoid the curse.”
“Oh, come on, Sister. A little booze can soften a long day.”
“The sun has only recently risen,” she pointed out. “Nay, Captain. I will not drink and I beg ye to stop.”
Josh laughed and refilled his tumbler with gin, neglecting the tonic. “What do you want?”
She crossed her arms and tapped her slippered foot. “You had the bosun and the marines put away the rifles and machine guns. I think they should be handed out to the people so they can be ready if Colonel Yoshu attacks.”
Josh lifted his eyebrows. “Give weapons to untrained islanders? I might as well throw them into the lagoon.”
“Then I ask ye to teach at least me fella boys how to use them.”
“Sister, when will you see the light? When Colonel Yoshu comes, which he will, he’ll roll right over us.”
“No, ‘tis you who cannot see the light, Captain.” She puffed out an exasperated breath. “How can I make ye understand? If we put up any kind of defense, Colonel Yoshu will turn and run. I know this man. Why don’t ye trust me?”