The consul made a clucking noise in his throat. “I am afraid my hands are tied,” he said ambiguously, never denying he knew where Belial could be found.
“Herr Becker, I know the Firm watches all that happens on these islands, and this is of some importance,” I said. His laconic expression did not change. I looked away from Vao as I continued: “Perhaps there is something else to trade. Information for information. It concerns the Solomon Islanders who escaped your plantation. The ones who still have their heads.”
You appear shocked, Mr. Clover, at my ruthless tactic in my dialogue with the consul. But do not forget I had been in the presence of Whiskey Bill and Davenport many times over the years in negotiations such as this where securely held information was extracted using quiet aggression.
“What are you doing?” Vao hissed at me.
“I’m afraid you have been misled,” Becker said.
“Oh?” I replied.
“Our consulate, like those of our American and British friends, is a resource to the native islanders. We are merely observers here.”
“It was my understanding that you burn down houses that do not accept the king you chose.”
Becker shook his head and offered an expression approximating compassion. “Houses! They are not houses. They are merely native huts, Mr. Fergins, no more substantial than the trees. The village I believe you speak of could have incited the king’s followers into violence against the villagers. We protected them.”
“Very well. I wonder if you wish to know information on the location of the camp of cannibals who escaped from your plantation.”
“Traitor! Vile traitor!” Vao shouted at me. “This is your plan to get what you need? To lead those runaways to massacre?”
“Please, Vao, they are not your people. You must stay quiet while I do business.”
“What is the meaning of this girl’s outburst?” Becker demanded, pointing at her.
“I am the daughter of a man you murdered, sir,” she replied vociferously in German, “in your attempt to prop up the marionette Tamasese, a devil who traded his soul and his island for power and riches. You believe you control our land because you amass warships and money. No. It is part of nature and does not belong to you. Who else will you betray for what you want, Chief Fergins?” she turned back to me, much to the other man’s apparent relief. “Tusitala? Me? After I rescued you from the mountains and brought you safely to the beach.”
I kept my eyes locked straight ahead: “I am sorry.”
When she had begun screaming, the consul had clapped for his guards, who now came in and held her back. She struggled against them, and broke free long enough to land an elbow against my cheek.
“Off this man, you savage harlot!” Becker yelled.
I watched as the fiery girl was carried out.
The consul, wiping sweat from his face, folded his hands and rubbed his thumbs together in a performance of casualness. “Unfortunate that some of these brown women debase themselves, even the pretty ones, by trying to fight like their native brothers. It is, as I say, our role to improve the position of the natives any way we can. They will learn how to act more like we do. I will tell you about these runaways you spoke of. We give them the opportunity to lead lives here of hard work and productivity. Alas, sometimes they succumb to nostalgia for their heathen lands. Some of these, unfortunately, present a danger to the peaceful inhabitants of the island and we would certainly be a willing party to their capture alongside the native authorities.”
I sat silently, still looking in the direction of where Vao was taken away.
“Never mind her. You wish to share what you know?” Becker pressed. “Perhaps to sketch a map?”
“I hardly know the island well enough,” I said, shoving away some paper Becker brought over.
“How is it you would come upon the location of such savages, then?”
“An accident. I came to know Robert Louis Stevenson—Tusitala, as he is called here. While riding with him, he happened to tell me where the cannibals could be found.”
Becker propped up a contemptuous smile, though just barely a smile, by jutting his large front teeth over his bottom lip. “Mmhmm,” he murmured. “Herr Stevenson thinks he can be like a character in one of his sensational tales who leads men to glory by revealing secrets. Tell me, though, if you have become so friendly with Herr Stevenson—”
“We have had some differences over a mutual friend that left me aggrieved, and have led me here,” I interrupted him.
He rose at his chair and waited for me to do the same. “Yes, I heard that Herr Stevenson, or shall we call him the Chief Justice of Vailima, even had you placed in that awful prison. Please, follow me, Herr Fergins.”
I pretended to deliberate on my decision, as I smiled widely on the inside.
? ? ?
VAO WAS NOT HELD for questioning for very long. “They merely asked some questions about my intentions toward the king,” she told me when we reunited. She laughed and called them “a dull lot.” It took me some hours working with a charcoal pencil on a piece of paper to re-create what I had discovered in the consulate. The consul had promised me he would find out where Belial was, which of course I knew would not happen. More important, they had brought me into a long room filled with maps for me to show them where the runaway group congregated.