Read Online The Love Beach by Leslie Thomas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leslie Thomas
Tags: Fiction & Literature
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desk.
'Where?'
'Vietnam,' said Conway. Then lamely: 'You know ...
the war...'
Sir William's voice became flat. Only his face showed his tremblings. 'What will they do there? Fire napalm arrows?'
'Jungle trackers,' announced Conway. 'Auxiliaries for the Australian forces.'
A mad laugh flew from the old man. 'Jungle trackers! 54
Tarzan of the Apes. Mlooooooooooo ... ooooooo ...
ooooo.' He jumped up and began to beat his breast. Just as abruptly he sat down and thrust a stony face on Conway. 'Out of your heads, all of you,'he muttered.
Conway said: 'The British used Dyaks in Malaya.' The old man's face seemed to expand, then contract. 'Hannibal used elephants in the Alps,' he retorted. 'But that doesn't make the poor devils on St Paul's ripe for Vietnam. Mad, you're positively mad. Have you been over there? Have you seen them?'
'Not yet,' said Conway. He felt better when Sir William shouted. 'I'm going over in a day or so.'
Sir William leaned forward. 'They've never heard of China, let alone Vietnam. Take them away and they die. They're infants, savages.'
Conway said: 'The Trusteeship people said that they are a Christian Community. They were the first tribe to be converted in these islands. . .'
'They're probably more Christian than your Trusteeship idiots. I'll grant you that...' He waited, got up, and looked out of the window. The lagoon was luxurious with evening colours, purple, reds, deep blues. The palms on the shoreline were silhouettes, black feathers against the dulled sky, small lights were showing in the town and Mr Livesley's neon sign seared out the word' Bread' in three alternating colours.
Sir William, his back still to Conway, shrugged to himself. 'Christians!' he laughed quietly. 'And so that qualifies them to fight a war.' Wearily he turned to the Australian. 'Mr Conway, these people believe that their island is the world, you know, the whole world. They believe that nothing of importance ever happens outside it, or has ever happened. They hardly acknowledge that we exist. Christians? If you like, but very odd Christians, I can tell you.'
'Odd?' asked Conway.
'Very. You see, you don't know. These people believe that the whole Bible story happened right there on their island. They will show you Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and Calvary, and Noah's Ark jammed on Mount Ararat. It's all there now. They won't be shaken from that. And, on top of it all, they're awaiting the arrival of a special sort of Messiah, a prophet called Dodson‑Smith who will bring to them all the luxuries of life which they do not enjoy now. Mr Conway, listen to this please. They believe that he is going to arrive by motor cycle...'
He thrust his glare towards Conway, pleading for comprehension. 'How could you attempt to throw such children into a battle they could never understand. It's difficult enough for the rest of us.'
Conway looked carefully at the seam along his briefcase. 'They have a cargo cult, have they? Well, the Trusteeship people didn't say anything about that.' He was feeling better, more assured again. He looked firmly at Sir William. 'Cargo cults are common enough, of course, in Borneo and New Guinea.' He grinned. 'One lot are saving their money for the arrival of a reincarnated President Kennedy.'
Sir William said sadly: 'Well if you know about them, you obviously know how completely impractical, not to mention inhuman, any sort of upheaval would be to them. How would you expect...'
'The Dyaks were very good in Malaya,' interrupted Conway. 'The British used to let them take the heads of the Communists, you know.'
'A lie,' said Sir William angrily. Then, dropping his tone: 'It's almost certain to be a lie. Anyway, damn it, the Dyaks are jungle people, marvellous trackers. St Paul's is an island...'
Conway had done his homework. 'It's a big island,' he said. 'Thirty miles long. Thick primary jungle over a large area, eighty per cent swamp and steep hill country.'
'Vietnam,' argued Sir William, 'isn't
'Where?'
'Vietnam,' said Conway. Then lamely: 'You know ...
the war...'
Sir William's voice became flat. Only his face showed his tremblings. 'What will they do there? Fire napalm arrows?'
'Jungle trackers,' announced Conway. 'Auxiliaries for the Australian forces.'
A mad laugh flew from the old man. 'Jungle trackers! 54
Tarzan of the Apes. Mlooooooooooo ... ooooooo ...
ooooo.' He jumped up and began to beat his breast. Just as abruptly he sat down and thrust a stony face on Conway. 'Out of your heads, all of you,'he muttered.
Conway said: 'The British used Dyaks in Malaya.' The old man's face seemed to expand, then contract. 'Hannibal used elephants in the Alps,' he retorted. 'But that doesn't make the poor devils on St Paul's ripe for Vietnam. Mad, you're positively mad. Have you been over there? Have you seen them?'
'Not yet,' said Conway. He felt better when Sir William shouted. 'I'm going over in a day or so.'
Sir William leaned forward. 'They've never heard of China, let alone Vietnam. Take them away and they die. They're infants, savages.'
Conway said: 'The Trusteeship people said that they are a Christian Community. They were the first tribe to be converted in these islands. . .'
'They're probably more Christian than your Trusteeship idiots. I'll grant you that...' He waited, got up, and looked out of the window. The lagoon was luxurious with evening colours, purple, reds, deep blues. The palms on the shoreline were silhouettes, black feathers against the dulled sky, small lights were showing in the town and Mr Livesley's neon sign seared out the word' Bread' in three alternating colours.
Sir William, his back still to Conway, shrugged to himself. 'Christians!' he laughed quietly. 'And so that qualifies them to fight a war.' Wearily he turned to the Australian. 'Mr Conway, these people believe that their island is the world, you know, the whole world. They believe that nothing of importance ever happens outside it, or has ever happened. They hardly acknowledge that we exist. Christians? If you like, but very odd Christians, I can tell you.'
'Odd?' asked Conway.
'Very. You see, you don't know. These people believe that the whole Bible story happened right there on their island. They will show you Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and Calvary, and Noah's Ark jammed on Mount Ararat. It's all there now. They won't be shaken from that. And, on top of it all, they're awaiting the arrival of a special sort of Messiah, a prophet called Dodson‑Smith who will bring to them all the luxuries of life which they do not enjoy now. Mr Conway, listen to this please. They believe that he is going to arrive by motor cycle...'
He thrust his glare towards Conway, pleading for comprehension. 'How could you attempt to throw such children into a battle they could never understand. It's difficult enough for the rest of us.'
Conway looked carefully at the seam along his briefcase. 'They have a cargo cult, have they? Well, the Trusteeship people didn't say anything about that.' He was feeling better, more assured again. He looked firmly at Sir William. 'Cargo cults are common enough, of course, in Borneo and New Guinea.' He grinned. 'One lot are saving their money for the arrival of a reincarnated President Kennedy.'
Sir William said sadly: 'Well if you know about them, you obviously know how completely impractical, not to mention inhuman, any sort of upheaval would be to them. How would you expect...'
'The Dyaks were very good in Malaya,' interrupted Conway. 'The British used to let them take the heads of the Communists, you know.'
'A lie,' said Sir William angrily. Then, dropping his tone: 'It's almost certain to be a lie. Anyway, damn it, the Dyaks are jungle people, marvellous trackers. St Paul's is an island...'
Conway had done his homework. 'It's a big island,' he said. 'Thirty miles long. Thick primary jungle over a large area, eighty per cent swamp and steep hill country.'
'Vietnam,' argued Sir William, 'isn't
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