The Ambassador's Son Read online

  Josh looked at the village and saw no apparent reason for the conch trumpeting, but then he looked out to sea and saw the reason, indeed. There was a large war canoe, a tomako much like the one he’d seen on Whitman’s beach (which, now that he gave it some thought, had actually been but six days ago). At least thirty big men were pulling on sets of great, long oars, with a man sitting in the middle of the boat on a kind of throne. His arms were crossed, his chin held high. As the canoe came nearer, Josh saw that the seated man was naked, save a garland of flowers around his head. He had a patrician face, black as coal, with a sunken lower jaw, as if he were missing teeth. His eyes were hooded, and neither he nor any of his oarsmen so much as glanced at the gunboat, which was, after all, the most unique and prominent feature presently in the lagoon. The canoe pushed past, then its bow slid onto the sand in front of the conch trumpeter, and the seated man rose and stepped regally ashore. The moment his foot went down on the sand, the villagers waiting at the village gate rushed down to the beach. There, they surrounded the man and draped his neck with more flower necklaces. The conch blower finally stopped, and the singing began, just as it had the day before, only even louder and more joyous. The man walked ahead, his big hands atop the heads of children who walked beside him, and went through the village gate with the singing throng behind.

  Josh assumed this was Joe Gimmee and went ashore to meet him. His way was barred at the gate. The guards were firm but polite, so Josh asked for Penelope. It was over an hour later that she finally appeared. “I need to talk to your father,” Josh told her impatiently.

  “But does he need to talk to you?” she asked.

  Josh took off his cap, fiddled with it, then plopped it back aboard. Penelope smiled, knowing full well it was his gesture when he was unhappy or confused or uncertain. “I need to see him,” he said. “You know that’s the reason I’m here.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “Oh? Well, I suppose that’s true, since it is certainly not me that you might want to be near. It must have amused you so very much that time when you told me you loved me. My word, you tell a very convincing lie.”

  “I didn’t lie.” Josh took off his cap again. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

  “Yes, yes, you wish to find Lieutenant Armistead,” Penelope replied in a bored fashion. “He is not here.”

  “But I need to find out where he might be,” Josh said, all but gritting his teeth. “Your father surely knows.”

  She cocked her head in an expression of wonder, as if Josh were saying a very curious thing. “He might, but he is very busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Preparing himself. The time is near.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Josh looked at the guards, looked at Penelope, looked at the bamboo gate that held him back. “Will you help me?” he asked for what he knew was going to be the last time.

  “Help you?” she asked. “To do what?”

  Josh nodded, then put on his cap. He gripped the gate and, with a mighty pull, tore it loose from its leather hinges. He tossed it on the beach while the two guards stared at him. “I wouldn’t get in my way,” Josh warned them, then walked through the opening where there had once been a gate and kept going until he reached the banyan tree, where he started yelling, “Joe Gimmee, come out! Joe Gimmee, come out!”

  Josh found himself surrounded by angry villagers, all shouting at him at the top of their lungs, though wisely keeping their distance considering that his anger seemed to make him grow twice his size. Then, abruptly, they fell silent, and the man Josh had seen sitting on the throne aboard the tomako walked through an opening in the crowd. He had covered his nakedness with a lap-lap. He looked upon Josh with a benign smile, then said something Josh couldn’t understand. Josh looked around for Penelope and found her right where she’d been all along, at his side. “What did he say?”

  By the expression on her face, it was clear Penelope was somewhat less than pleased with Josh. “He wonders why you are causing so much commotion in his village.”

  “I take it this is Joe Gimmee.”

  “Who else?”

  “Tell him who I am.”

  “And who would that be?” Penelope demanded in a snide tone.

  “Tell him I am Commander Josh Thurlow of the United States Coast Guard.”

  Penelope rolled her eyes. “I am certain he will be impressed.”

  Joe Gimmee, with an amused expression, was watching the back-and-forth between Josh and Penelope. He said something to Penelope, who listened and then said, “My father says he can tell we are lovers because we argue so much.”

  Josh worked to remain calm. “Tell him, if you please, who I am, as I have already asked you to do too many times.”

  “He knows who you are. I have fully informed him.”

  Joe Gimmee smiled, then spoke. Penelope said, “He says he has never seen a man and a woman so clearly in love as we. Sadly, my father is not always free from error.”

  “Ask him about Armistead,” Josh insisted, then looked directly at Joe Gimmee and did it himself. “David Armistead? A marine lieutenant? Lieutenant Armistead? Do you know that name?”

  Joe Gimmee looked into Josh’s eyes, and it seemed to Josh that he had never seen eyes so filled with curiosity and wonder in the entire history of his life. “I know David Armistead,” Joe Gimmee said, and Josh caught the hint of an Australian accent.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Yes,” Joe Gimmee answered.

  “And where might that be?”

  “Where I told him to go, mate.”

  “And that would be?”

  “I am going there tomorrow.”

  “Can I go, too?”

  “Yes. Although we must not travel together. If the Japoni see you with me, they will try to kill us all. There is a Japanese submarine that is after you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Its captain stopped my tomako and told me to be on the scout.”

  “You work for the Japanese?”

  “Never. But the Japanese like to tell me what to do anyway. They like to tell everybody what to do, just as the British and the Americans. It is odd since this is our country, not theirs.”

  “Please tell me where you are going so that I can look on my chart and find my way.”

  “I know the way. You can follow, although you must stay far back.”

  “I still need to know where I’m going. It is a rule in the navy.”

  Joe Gimmee raised his wispy eyebrows. “Penelope said you were in the Coast Guard.”

  “The Coast Guard is part of the navy for the duration of the war.”

  “Which war?”

  “The big war. The war that is being fought in these islands.”

  “Oh, that war.”

  Josh impatiently ran his hand across his face. Joe Gimmee watched him serenely. “Look, Joe,” Josh said, “what’s your game? Talk to me. Make me understand and maybe I can help you.”

  Joe Gimmee chuckled when he heard Josh’s plea, then answered. “Life is a game, but my people do not know how to play it. That is why I have come, to teach them the rules.”

  “And what are the rules?”

  Joe Gimmee said, “All we haf to fee-yah, is fee-yah itself.”

  Josh stared at the old man, who grinned back at him with only his upper teeth. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Josh confessed.

  “A day that will live in in-fummy,” Joe Gimmee said, and then turned on his heel and walked back to his hut, the people, including Penelope, gathering in behind him. Josh was blocked from following, left standing alone in ignorance and the dust beneath the old banyan tree.

  49

  Kennedy was subdued as he and Felicity ate breakfast on the veranda while John-Bull gave Blackie a run on the beach. At last Felicity said, “What’s the matter, Jack? I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head.”

  “I had a visitor last night.�
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  “A tree rat, I’ll wager! I’ll have Mumba put out the traps.”

  “It wasn’t a tree rat. It was David Armistead. He stood on the grass, just there in front of the veranda.”

  Felicity smiled, thinking Kennedy was joking, but then saw that he was serious. “How could that be?”

  “I don’t know. He said he couldn’t tell me, not without a great deal of explanation. He asked if he might come again tonight. Do you have a working radio?”

  “Not anymore. The cockroaches ate the wiring some years ago.”

  “I wish there was some way I could contact Thurlow. I don’t know what to do. I suppose I should try to capture David, knock him in the head or something and tie him up.”

  “How did he know you were here?”

  “He said he heard that a navy lieutenant named Kennedy was visiting you, and he thought to slip up to the house to see if it was me. You see, we’ve known each other for years, first at prep school, then at Harvard. He said once he saw it was me, he couldn’t resist saying hello. It seemed to me the idea just formed in his mind. I don’t think he meant for me to recognize him from the shadows. Then, as we were talking, he said he had so much to tell me. I’m afraid I invited him to dinner. I saw no harm in it.”

  “I suppose there is none, other than cook will be displeased,” Felicity replied. “He worked ever so hard on last night’s meal, now he’ll have to accomplish another miracle, and we have so little . . .”

  “I overstepped my bounds,” Kennedy said by way of an apology.

  “It’s all right, Jack,” Felicity said, although she was clearly puzzled and upset. She rose from the breakfast table and went inside, yelling for Mumba, who had disappeared like a puff of smoke at the first hint of the missus’s displeasure.

  Kennedy finished his tea and walked to the new warehouse construction site. He had promised Felicity a day of work, helping Gogoomey to build it. No one was there, so he idled about, swatting mosquitoes, until John-Bull arrived after putting Blackie to pasture. “Have you seen Gogoomey or the other boys this morning?” Kennedy asked.

  “I saw them talking to a tall white man near Lahana,” John-Bull answered. “He was dressed in a lap-lap, which I thought was very odd. More peculiar still, he was covered in tattoos. When he saw me, he stepped back into the bush. Gogoomey and the others waved to me and then started off in this direction. I suppose they will be along presently.”

  Kennedy waited for Gogoomey and then took him aside. “Gogoomey, what is going on between you and Lieutenant Armistead?”

  Gogoomey feigned surprise. “Gogoomey no savvy Arm-stead.”

  “Yes, you savvy Armistead very well.” Kennedy raised his hand over his head. “Very tall white man, this tall. Long face, big chin.”

  Gogoomey looked embarrassed. “My word, much work-work. Gogoomey no stop along.”

  “Yes, you will stop along,” Kennedy insisted. “What did Armistead tell you this morning? John-Bull saw you talking to him.”

  Gogoomey stubbornly shook his head.

  “I will tell the missus,” Kennedy warned.

  Kennedy had turned the correct key. “Arm-stead want Gogoomey, all Lahana go Chuma. Joe Gimmee be there.”

  The name rang a faint bell. “Joe Gimmee?”

  “Big time holy man, mastah Jack.”

  Now Kennedy remembered. Thurlow was looking for this very same man. It was the reason he’d gone to Vella Lavella.

  “When will Joe Gimmee come?”

  “On the morrow.”

  “Where is Chuma?”

  Gogoomey pointed to the north. “Many palms, altogether finish. Chief Big-Belly altogether finish palms.”

  Kennedy salted away the information, though he didn’t understand it entirely, and patted the old man on his shoulder, letting him go to work on the warehouse. Then he called over John-Bull. “Where and what is Chuma?”

  “It’s an abandoned plantation we leased some years back. It’s on the north shore.”

  “What does ‘altogether finish’ mean in pidgin?”

  “It depends on how it’s used. Most of the time if one of the boys says somebody is altogether finished, it means he’s dead.”

  “How about ‘Many palms, altogether finished. Chief Big-Belly altogether finish palms.’”

  John-Bull scratched his head. “It might mean Big-Belly has killed some trees, or it might mean he picked some coconuts.”

  “When was the last time you or your mother visited Chuma?”

  “Not for several months. Mother was wondering if the trees were bearing early, and we rode the horses to take a look. They were, wonderfully so. It was one of the reasons she decided to go to Malaita, to get extra workers to harvest Chuma as well as down here.”

  Kennedy walked back to the house and found Felicity deep into her accounting books at the parlor table. She gave him an unwelcome glance when he sat across the table from her. Apparently, she was still upset over Kennedy’s invitation to Armistead. “I told Gogoomey I would keep this from you, but I don’t think I should hold it back. He was seen talking to Armistead this morning. I questioned him, and I believe I understood that there is something that has occurred at Chuma. What it is, I’m not certain, but Chief Big-Belly is involved.”

  “Tell me exactly what Gogoomey said,” Felicity replied. When he told her, including that Joe Gimmee was also involved in some manner, she closed her books, then whistled for Mumba. When the boy appeared, she said, “Saddle Delight and Blackie. Go quick!” She leveled her gaze at Kennedy. “I should put a rope around Gogoomey’s neck and drag him to Chuma. He has allowed somebody to damage my palms.”

  “You don’t know if anything has happened at all,” Kennedy said. “And please don’t say a word to Gogoomey. I promised him I wouldn’t tell you. Let’s go to Chuma, see what’s what, and then decide what’s to be done, if anything.”

  There was the sound of hooves outside. “Horsesmissus!” Mumba shouted.

  Felicity pulled on her riding gloves and went striding through the parlor’s double doors. She hopped up on Delight and spurred off. Kennedy followed on Blackie. He caught up with her in Lahana. She had stopped in front of Chief Big-Belly’s hut. “Get out here, Big-Belly!”

  “Felicity, calm down,” Kennedy pleaded.

  Chief Big-Belly slowly made an appearance, his head first, looking around as if unsure someone had called his name, then slowly the rest of his body on his big flat feet. He looked up at Felicity and scratched his belly, then walked in front of Delight, out of range of Felicity’s riding crop. “What for you want Big-Belly?”

  Felicity used the crop to point at the big house. “You built this for Joe Gimmee, didn’t you?”

  “Meeting house, all same.”

  “Don’t lie to me, you savage! You’ve joined Joe Gimmee’s religion.”

  “Not lie. Big-Belly good fella boy. You go now. Leave me be.”

  “What about Chuma? You savvy Chuma?”

  Chief Big-Belly stubbornly shook his head. “Chuma long way. Big-Belly here.”

  “You miserable fat bastard!” Felicity yelled, then kicked Delight forward. The big stallion reared, his front hooves knocking Big-Belly to the ground. He scrambled to get out of the way as Felicity spurred the stallion on.

  Kennedy dismounted and helped the fat old man to his feet. “I’m sorry, sport. Missus Markham, she’s too much angry.”

  “She too much crazy!” Big-Belly sputtered. Two women came out of his hut to watch. He started screaming at them. Pfft, they puffed at him. Pfft, pfft. The chief was getting no more respect from his wives than he had from Felicity.

  Kennedy hid his smile, got aboard Blackie, and rode off. Felicity had slowed Delight to a walk after the path turned inland. He came up behind her and silently fell into line. She didn’t acknowledge his presence. The trail wound through low brush, savannah, and hardwoods, then back down to the beach before turning once more into a broad plain. The first palm trees appeared, obviously plantation palms, as they poi
nted skyward, straight as arrows. The horse’s hooves padded on the clover beneath the great trees laden with coconuts. Kennedy eased Blackie beside Delight. “Is this Chuma?”

  “Yes.” Felicity’s voice was subdued, her anxiety apparently somewhat alleviated by the sight of the healthy trees. “It’s glorious, isn’t it? The Peterson brothers managed it for an Australian company, but they were terrible businessmen and ran the place into the ground. The problem was they spent too freely. Everything had to be the best money could buy. They had a concrete drying shed. Concrete! And gas-fed drying ovens. Of course, they couldn’t get the gas to operate them, so it was all a wasted effort. Bryce took it over on a lease.”

  Felicity surveyed the plantation. “But, oh, they were glorious farmers, I will give them that. Look at these magnificent trees! I tell you, Jack, here is the future of Noa-Noa! And to think—” Her thought was cut short as she spied three men stepping out from behind a row of palms. When they realized she’d seen them, they ran off, disappearing into the palm diagonals.

  Felicity spurred Delight after them but then reined the stallion in. When Kennedy came up alongside, she pointed at a two-man saw and two axes that the men had apparently dropped. “I recognize the saw,” she said. “It was Bryce’s. He had in mind harvesting mahogany and ordered it from Australia. Nothing ever came of the idea, and I had nearly forgotten about it, I thought it was stored beneath the house. Now I see it’s been stolen.”

  Kennedy looked around. “I don’t see any signs of trees being cut.”

  Felicity peered upward into the fronds. “That’s strange . . . Do you see that vine, Jack? It stretches to that tree there. And then to that tree, and that one, too. A series of them, branching out. And look, those trees there, they’re all connected.” She eased Delight ahead, searching the tops of the trees. “What do you suppose they’re for?”