taken two hours of pleading to get the paint from Mr. Olin.) It was a pretty spot. The mountains behind us rose nearly five thousand feet and in one of the many deep gorges we found a wonderful waterfall and took our first fresh-water shower in months.
Working on the hull left us so tired we slept late and missed the tide. It was high tide early in the morning so we stayed up all night and by noon had returned to our old berth on the Papeete quay.
As we were shaking the copra bugs out of our mats and settling down for a sleepy afternoon, one of Mr. Olin's drivers came by and said the old man had been looking for us yesterday. Eddie was already snoring so I went back to the office with the driver. Olin's fat face beamed as he said, “Good news!”
“What's the cargo and where is it going to?” I asked, sure he was going to tell me he had a rum-smuggling deal set.
“Not exactly a cargo—a passenger. A woman.”
“Hell, you know we're not equipped to carry passengers, especially women,” I said,' disappointed.
Mr. Olin took six thousand Tahitian francs from his drawer. “The passenger in question is willing to pay this for a short trip. To Numaga.”
There could only be one female passenger for Numaga— Ruita's mother. I was restless to get out of Papeete and if nothing else I was curious about Mrs. Adams, who was something of a legend in the atolls. But longing for Ruita so badly, I was more afraid than ever of seeing her again.
“You will pick her up at the Tiare Hotel and arrange the sailing—”
“Hold up, I'm not sure I'm taking it.”
“Look, my cockroach trader,” Olin said softly. “This is good money for such a passage. I will only apply half of it toward your debt, leaving you three thousand francs to spend as you wish, although I would advise using it for trade goods.”
“It isn't the money. How did Mrs. Adams happen to come to you?”
A smile lit up his fat face. “Ah, so you know the good lady?”
“Only by name.”
“But she knows you. I hear she was looking for your boat two days ago when she arrived from the Gilbert Islands. I also know you are out of the harbor. Since your interests are my interests, and since I have done business before with Mrs. Adams, I contacted her as a friend to both of you.”
“Okay, okay. Write off three thousand francs against what we owe, give me a thousand and send down two thousand francs worth of supplies. Perhaps cigarettes or...”
“I have something very special,” Olin said, handing me ten one hundred franc notes, “Two cases of stomach medicine imported from South America—forty-eight bottles to the case.”
“What sort of stomach medicine?”
Olin shrugged, all his chins dancing. “As to the medicinal value I can tell you little. The labels are in Spanish, but they will sell very well and bring much happiness, which is the best form of health, for each bottle is twenty-five percent alcohol. Now, will you join me in some rice wine and cakes?”
I nibbled at the cakes and quickly drank the wine, then walked slowly toward the hotel. I felt completely upset and confused. I was terribly excited at the thought of seeing Ruita again, but at the same time I had this feeling that if I saw her I was finished. I'd surely marry her and settle down on Numaga and probably go nuts—if I didn't become a lush.
I hadn't shaved for several weeks, was sporting a ragged blond-red beard, and while my shirt and pants were fairly clean they were obviously never acquainted with an iron. My “yachting” cap was bleached a pale blue and my sneakers were in shreds. I bought a new pair of sneakers, including a pair for Eddie, considered getting a shave and a haircut, then decided against it. I was silly putting on a front for Mrs. Adams—we'd be together on a forty-two-foot boat for at least a week and she'd see what a slob I was. Also, I was annoyed I even thought about dressing up for her.
The Tiare is a rambling old hotel once owned by the famous Lovinia, a wonderful woman around whom a number of South Seas books were written. However, no one ever wrote a book about the influenza epidemic which swept French Oceania after World War One and caused the deaths of thousands of people, including the generous Lovinia.
It was exactly two when I knocked on Mrs. Adams' hotel room door, time for the mid-day snooze to be over. I heard her getting out of bed, the sound of bare feet, and when Mrs. Adams opened the door I saw a little woman wearing only a thin slip. My first impression was of a sweet old lady, a retired school teacher but the sort of teacher you were fond of in school. She had close- cropped iron-grey hair, strong features, weather-beaten skin, and thoughtful eyes. I saw where Ruita got her nose and nice eyes from.
She looked me over, or rather we both looked each other over, then she nodded slowly and said, “Yes, you must be Mr.—” For a split second a blank, frightened look ran across her face, then she smiled quickly, showing good teeth and said, “Yes, you're Ray.” Her voice was calm and firm. “I'm Ray Jundson, Mrs. Adams.”
“Of course. Please come in. And excuse my memory—it plays tricks with me at times.”
The rest of her clothes were scattered over the one chair and on the ancient dresser were a number of sealed battles with specimens of plants and sea life. For a moment neither of us spoke and she still stared at me openly. I pretended to study the bottles and she said, “I am a student of botany. I take it you are willing to sail me to Numaga?”
“Yes, Mrs. Adams. Although you've overpaid for—”
She waved a thin hand. “Money has little meaning for me. And I want to have a chance to know you.”
“Why?”
She smiled. “I always like to know another human being, especially one my daughter likes.”
I didn't know what to say. I knew how gossip gets around but I was amazed it could jump several hundred miles of ocean in less than a month.
“Also, I am anxious to go home. When can you sail?”
“Whenever you wish, Mrs. Adams.”
“Let's make an end of this banal name nonsense, Ray. My name is Nancy.”
“New Englander?”
“Well, yes, although I've spent most of my life in these islands. I came here with Tom—Dr. Adams—in 1912. Where is your boat headed for?”
“Any island where we can find business. I must warn you our cabin is full of roaches and—”
“Come, Ray, I've traveled on island boats before. I'd like to make a few stops on the way, and perhaps you can do some trading. I've just spent several months in the Gilbert Islands—for my malaria.”
“The Gilberts are malaria islands?”
She nodded, scratched her thin breasts through the slip. “I went to get a good dose of malaria. You see, I contracted a disease long ago, without knowing it. And they claim malaria prevents paresis, although in my case the cure may be a bit late. Well, I have seen all my Papeete friends. I shall be ready to sail in the morning. Is that convenient for you?”
She said this in a quiet, soft voice. I stuttered as I told her, “S-sure, guess the morning will be f-fine. I have to check with my p- partner.”
I never had a sweet old lady casually tell me she was suffering from advanced stages—or any stages—of syphilis before.
Chapter III
We didn't sail the next morning. When I returned to the
Mrs. Adams was a true islander, for when I told her we weren't sailing, that I couldn't locate Eddie, she accepted it as a normal thing, said it was all for the good because there was an old French movie she wanted to see.
But two days later she was at the quay bright and early with her woven pandanus bags, her jars, and several elderly Tahitian women who kissed her goodbye and gave her roasted chickens. Eddie and I—mostly I—had sprayed and cleaned the cabin, arranged to sleep on deck. When we stopped at Motuiti isle for the customs men to give the boat a going over for rum—there was a twenty-five buck fine for every litre found hidden away—Eddie suggested we eat one of the chickens. Nancy agreed and the three of us sat down and went through two fine-tasting roasted chickens.
The old lady turned out to be a good sailor and, of course, fell in love with our cutter. She took the wheel, did the cooking, spoke Tahitian, French, and even Chinese, and got along first-rate with Eddie. Like all Polynesians, even though he came from far away Hawaii, he had relatives in every island and atoll, and it seemed Mrs. Adams knew them all, in fact there wasn't an isle in the Pacific she hadn't visited. So she and Eddie sat gabbing about so and so ”... on Rarotonga. Ah, he is a fine man and all of his wives have always been good women.” And Eddie would add, “His second wife, Tar a, was a cousin of my mama's aunt.” Of course, I felt like a stranger.
On the first morning out when it was Eddie's watch he took the wheel from Nancy, glanced at the sun for a moment, told her “You're way off the course, Nancy. You're going south by southeast instead of by southwest.”
“I changed the course,” she said simply. “I thought
