Виктория Холт - Seven for a Secret

We discovered that the ferry was due on Friday and as this was Wednesday we considered that we were fortunate that our stay would be so short.

It seemed strange to be on dry land after so long at sea, and it was all so new to us that we were eager to get out and see a little of the island, which we guessed could not be so different from Casker’s as they were no great distance from each other.

We went to our respective rooms and took from our baggage the few things we should need during our short stay.

Tamarisk thought it was all very exciting.

“I liked the fat lady,” she said.

“She was so pleased that we had come, and sorry because we were not going to stay long. What better welcome could you have than that?”

The ferry connecting Cato Cato and Casker’s Island paid more or less regular visits, taking to both islands goods which had come out from Sydney. It was also one source of conveying the mail.

We settled in and prepared to wait. The heat was intense, but at least it was a little cooler in our rooms than outside.

We were exhausted after our arrival and had a meal of some unknown fish and fruit and as, by that time, it was getting late we decided to have an early night, for we should have to explore, if we wished to, during the morning or evening, since we realized the heat would be too great at midday and in the afternoon.

Tamarisk was soon asleep, but I lay awake listening to the sound of the waves and the strains of a musical instrument which someone seemed to be playing some little distance away.

I wondered what Crispin was doing at this moment. And Aunt Sophie? She would be asking herself what could be happening to me. And soon I should see my father. It was what I had always wanted. But how I should love to be back in England!

“If only,” I kept saying to myself.

“If only that woman had never existed. If only she had never come back.”

This was not the way. I had to put a distance between myself and all that. I had to think which way I was going, what I should do with my life.

One thing was certain. I should never forget Crispin.

I glanced at Tamarisk. She looked beautiful in the moonlight, her hair spread over the pillow; the mosquito net under which she lay made her skin look translucent. It was easier for her. She had longed to get away and her one desire was to escape, to forget. She had changed a little but often the old Tamarisk looked out. This journey was what she had needed, and she was succeeding in loosening the bonds which held her to the past.

I believed I never would.

The next morning we explored Cato Cato. Our presence excited a certain amount of curiosity among the natives, although they were not completely unaccustomed to Europeans. Tamarisk’s golden hair received a good deal of attention. One woman came up and touched it. None of them attempted to hide their curiosity. They stared at us openly, laughed and giggled as though they found us a cause for hilarious amusement.

The heat was intense and we stayed in the hotel after lunch. We sat looking out on the scene just waiting for the time to pass.

“Not long now,” said Tamarisk.

“Soon we shall be there. I do hope it won’t be as hot as this place.”

“Probably not much difference,” said Luke.

“You’ll get used to it. One does.”

“You’ll have your work … your important work,” said Tamarisk.

“What shall I do?”

“You might like to come and give me a hand. I dare say I shall find something for you to do.”

Tamarisk grimaced.

“I don’t think I am quite the right type, do you?”

“I am sure you could make yourself so.”

They were smiling at each other.

She appealed to me.

“Can you see me doing good works?”

I said seriously: “I believe you could do anything if you wanted to enough.”

“There, you see, St. Luke. There is hope for me yet.”

At last, to our relief, it was Friday morning and the ferry boat was seen approaching. People hurried to the shore. Our guide of the first day came to us with his barrow and when the ferry came in we were ready waiting for it.

There were no special quarters on the ferry. We were told it would leave in the afternoon of that day and would arrive at Casker’s the following afternoon-providing all went well.

There was a great deal of noise on the shore as we prepared to leave.

We had been delayed because everything depended on how long it took to get the cargo on board. We were the only passengers who were to sail to Casker’s Island.

I could see that the arrival and the departure of a boat was a great event in the lives of the islanders, something which relieved the monotony of the days and of course they never knew what strangers would arrive with it. People like ourselves, who by their very difference made a diversion.

In due course we set sail and that night I sat on deck with Tamarisk and Luke, hoping that we might get a little sleep. The sea was calm, benign, and murmured softly as it washed against the side of the ferry. The night air was balmy and very pleasant. Every now and then I caught a phosphorescent gleam as a shoal of fish swam by.

Almost on the other side of the world was all that I cared for most.

There were times when I told myself I had been a fool. I should have been one of those who lived boldly. I had lost Crispin because I was afraid to stay. And what now? I could never forget. What a fool I had been to think I might.

The other two were dozing and I could only gaze on the quiet waters and everywhere I looked I seemed to see Crispin’s face.

It was mid-afternoon of the next day. I was sitting on deck when there was a shout from one of the ferrymen. He was waving his hands excitedly and indicating land on the horizon.

“Casker’s Island,” he cried.

And there it was a brown and green hump in a calm blue sea.

Several of the sailors were on deck to prepare for our approach. Luke and Tamarisk, with me, were beside them. I was filled with emotion.

After all these years, I was about to see my father.

Luke understood my feelings and laid his hand on my arm.

“This will be an important day for you,” he said.

I nodded.

“It is good that you will be together.”

“This island looks remarkably like Cato Cato to me,” said Tamarisk.

And as we grew nearer it certainly did. A number of brown-skinned people had gathered on the shore. They wore brightly coloured robes and beads about their necks and ankles. There came the sound of a musical instrument similar to that which I had heard on Cato Cato.

Naked children were running in and out of the sea, shouting with delight. Women with babies strapped to their backs and some with them simply clinging to them were waiting at the water’s edge. They screamed with delight as the ferry drew near.

“We have to see to the luggage,” said Luke.

“Aren’t we lucky to have the Saint to look after us?” said Tamarisk.

“We are indeed,” I replied.

The luggage was found; we were ready and as we stepped off the ferry a big man with a somewhat officious manner came towards us. He wore white cotton trousers and a blue shirt.

“Missie Hammond. Missie Hammond,” he was chanting.

“Yes, yes,” I cried.

“I am here.”

His big dark face broadened in a dazzling grin. He put his hands together and made a little bow.

“Missie Karla. She say come. I take.”

“Oh, thank you. This is wonderful!” I cried.

“There is some luggage and I have two friends here.”

He was grinning and nodded.

“Leave Macala. He do all.”

I turned to Tamarisk and Luke.

“I think my father must have sent him to meet us.”

I had expected him to be there himself. There was prob ably some reason why he was not, I told myself, and he had sent this man.

“Karla?” Tamarisk was saying.

“Who is Karla?”

The man Macala snapped his fingers in an imperious manner.

“Mandel!” he called.

“Mandel!” and a boy of about ten years came running up.

Macala reverted to his own tongue and the boy listened eagerly and nodded. Then he turned to us.

“You come. Follow.”

He led us to a cart which was drawn by two donkeys.

“I take,” said Macala.

“To Mr. Hammond?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I take.”

He indicated that we get into the cart.

“We won’t go without our luggage,” said Tamarisk.

At that moment the boy appeared. He was carrying one of our bags. He set it down and pointed backwards.

Macala nodded and, turning to us, grinned reassuringly.

“I get,” he said.

“Shouldn’t we help?” asked Luke.

“If you go with them you will leave us,” pointed out Tamarisk.

“This is all very strange and, after all, we are more important even than our luggage. I should have thought your father would have been here, Fred. He can’t live far away.”

I did not answer.

We need not have worried about the luggage. Macala returned in a short time with the boy and another tall man. Between them they carried all our bags.

We had a little of the currency we had used in Cato Cato and the man and the boy were overcome with joy when we gave this to them.

Then we set off, the cart trundled along through lush vegetation and in less than ten minutes we saw the house. It was raised a foot or so from the ground on props and there was only one floor. It was long and squat, made of white wood; and brightly coloured flowering shrubs grew profusely round it.