Read Online The White Ghost by James R. Benn - Free Book Online Page B

seafloor.
    â€œThere’s the captain’s quarters,” Howe said. “And yours next to it.” A row of European-style houses lined the road, built high off the ground with large wraparound verandahs.
    â€œWere these all for the British colonial administrators?” I asked.
    â€œNot all, sir. The Lever Brothers managers lived there, too. You know, the soap company?”
    â€œSoap? How’d they make soap out here?”
    â€œSomething to do with coconuts, sir, I really don’t know. There’s a group of Australian Coastwatchers staying in the Lever houses. Some sort of big confab going on.”
    â€œThe Lever guys haven’t come back?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” Howe said. “They need a lot of native labor for whatever they do. The Japs control most of the Solomon Islands, and in the rest the coconut plantations haven’t recovered from the fighting yet.”
    â€œThere must be a demand for native labor,” Kaz said.
    â€œYeah,” Howe said. “One of the Coastwatchers told me the Japs use them as slave labor, so a lot of them hide in the jungle or make their way down here. They get paid and treated pretty fair, from what I can tell. It’s gonna be hard to keep ’em down on the farm after a few US Navy paydays.”
    â€œYou hear anything about the native who was killed recently?” I asked.
    â€œSure,” Howe said. “But I’ll let the captain tell you about that.” He slowed for a switchback and downshifted as we made the hairpin turn. “Base headquarters is ahead at the east end of the island, right by the hospital. The land thins out here, and there’s always a nice breeze off the water from one side or the other.”
    â€œJust the right place for headquarters,” I said.
    â€œI meant for the patients, sir. But the captain doesn’t mind either.”
    â€œHow about you?”
    â€œI like what my commanding officer likes,” Howe said. “Do they run things differently out in North Africa? Sir?”
    â€œPlease excuse Lieutenant Boyle,” Kaz said, placing his hand on Howe’s shoulder from the backseat. “He has the police detective’s habit of asking questions even when there is no need.”
    â€œNo problem, sir, glad to help.” Without actually having helped, Howe parked the jeep near a Quonset hut and a couple of weathered clapboard buildings that once perhaps reminded a European of home, but were now ready to decay into the ground. They all had wide verandahs, which I figured was standard because of the heat. It had to be stifling indoors at midday, even with the breeze wafting in from twenty different directions.
    Howe offered to wait and drive us to our quarters. I figured he was going to report our every move to Ritchie, so I told him to knock off for the day. On an island as small as Tulagi, we couldn’t get lost for long. He looked dejected as we turned away and took the rickety steps up to the base commander’s office. A sailor on duty showed us into Ritchie’s office, where we found the captain reading from a file. There were two chairs in front of his desk, on which we were not invited to sit. As a matter of fact, Ritchie didn’t react at all. He kept reading, turning each page over carefully as if his superior officer might give him points for neatness.
    Howe had been right. The open windows on each wall let in a cool seaside breeze. The view wasn’t bad either, with Guadalcanal in the distance and the lush green of Florida Island on either side. A ceiling fan revolved slowly overhead. A sheet of paper moved about a half inch as the air wafted in. Ritchie put it back, aligning it with the others. I caught a few upside-down words, Boyle and Kazimierz among them. Uncooperative was there, too. No US Navy letterhead either, only flimsy paper that looked like it came out of a teletype.
    Salutes weren’t done indoors except when reporting to a