Little God Ben Page 15

  Oakley’s brain, in spite of his doubts, was working exceedingly well. Judged dispassionately, he found the surprising fact rather interesting. He noticed that the gate was slightly more ajar than he had recollected, and he gave it a quick push before the High Priest had a chance to notice this himself.

  In silence they walked through into the outer chamber. Ruth struggled hard to suppress her shivers as Oakley, obeying an imperious sign from the High Priest, closed and secured the gate behind them. They crossed the chamber to the second gate, and entered the Temple. Here Ruth stood for a moment and gasped, as three others had gasped before her. She was given no time, however, to drink in the full strangeness of the scene, for the Priest prodded her and forced her hurriedly to the third door.

  But at the third door the Priest himself paused. Oakley was a little way behind, stooping, and the Priest swung round to communicate a sudden thought. Oakley straightened himself quickly, and looked inquiring.

  The Priest also looked inquiring. Oakley made a sign to imply that he had experienced a sudden pain in his back, probably administered by Oomoo to punish him for some omission. The Priest, accepting this, made angry motions describing the omission. The gong—why had not the Low Priest sounded the second gong? Oakley clasped his forehead, looked vaguely around, held up his two empty hands, glanced back in the direction from which they had come, and fell upon his face. The Priest made further angry motions. Oakley’s contrition, and his desire to repair his omission, became more and more evident. The Priest shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to the exit. But Oakley, who had risen, threw himself on the ground again before an effigy, and insisted on mumbling penance until the Priest, growing impatient, decided to leave him to it, opened the door to his quarters, and pushed his prisoners through.

  Out of the corner of his eye Oakley watched the door open and close. He heard the wooden bar swung into its socket. He counted twenty. Then he rose, and bent once more over the real cause of his original stooping, which had not been a pain in his back, but a bit of soil.

  One of his jobs was to keep the Temple spotless. He knew every smut and every stain, and conscientiously removed all that were removable. This bit of soil, he was certain, had not been on the ground when he had last been in the Temple. Had it been conveyed here recently—by a boot?

  Putting two and two together, Oakley arrived at the decision that it had.

  He glanced towards the door to the Priest’s quarters. He listened. There was no sound. Then he advanced to the door and listened again. Silence. He tried to visualise what was happening on the other side. Emotion suddenly seized him. It was like an abruptly released tide—a tide that had been too long in check. It made him want to hurl himself at the door and smash it down. He backed away, lest he should yield to the impulse.

  He touched his forehead with his finger. The finger came away wet. He stared at the dampness, almost in terror.

  Then he smiled. It was an uncanny, twisted smile, and perhaps it was as well that nobody saw it. It was the smile of a sane man creeping deliberately back to mental contortion.

  ‘My dear, beamish lad,’ he murmured, ‘have you forgotten that you are dead? And that, in a few meaningless years, we shall all be dust?’

  In this recaptured mood he searched the Temple, and found, in the concealed recess beneath the giant golden pot, Lord Cooling, Ernest Medworth, and Henry Smith.

  ‘Come out, dears,’ he said softly.

  They came out, and only Cooling managed not to look humiliated.

  ‘Is there time to talk, Mr Oakley?’ he asked.

  ‘There isn’t a second to talk,’ answered Oakley.

  ‘Then what is the order?’

  ‘Quick march back to Holloway.’

  Medworth and Smith began their quick march at once, but Cooling hesitated.

  ‘Can we pass safely through the village, Mr Oakley?’ he inquired.

  ‘Have you heard the second gong yet?’ replied Oakley.

  ‘Thank you,’ smiled Cooling. ‘When we get back to England I shall allot you a thousand shares in Gold Temples, Limited. Lead on, MacDuff!’

  21

  In Conference

  Had Miss Noyes awakened to her solitude she would probably, as she herself admitted, have run amok. ‘I might even have gone out of my mind,’ she confessed. But Fate was kind to her. It permitted her to go on dreaming, and she was still dreaming when the prisoners returned.

  ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ murmured Cooling. ‘But where are the rest?’

  Oakley had not been communicative on the way down. He had decided to postpone his news, lest it should incite hasty and unwise action, and he wanted Tom Haines at the conference. It disturbed him now to find Tom still absent.

  ‘They’re inside, I expect,’ grunted Medworth. ‘Billing and cooing.’

  Smith, anxious to reinstate himself by making himself useful, dashed to the hut, poked his head in, and reported emptiness.

  ‘That’s not news to you, I take it?’ inquired Cooling, who had been watching the silent Oakley for signs.

  ‘No, it’s not news to me,’ answered Oakley. ‘I knew Miss Sheringham wouldn’t be there, and perhaps it was too much to hope Haines would sit and wait if he got back and found her absent.’

  ‘Oh, they’re not together, then?’ asked Medworth.

  ‘That’s a smart deduction,’ replied Oakley, making no effort to conceal his sarcasm. ‘Smarter, anyway, than the one about billing and cooing. While you went to look for gold, Haines went to look for a boat. As you didn’t know this, I suppose you left on your little tour first.’

  ‘Both Haines and Miss Sheringham were certainly here when we left,’ said Cooling. ‘Where is Miss Sheringham?… Bless my soul, how that woman snores!’

  ‘I’ll wake her,’ suggested Smith, preparing to perform a second good deed.

  ‘Why?’ asked Oakley. ‘Will she be helpful?’

  ‘Eh? What do you mean?’ demanded Smith. Miss Noyes was the only member of the party he was able to impress. ‘She’s got more sense than most of us!’

  ‘Then emulate her sense yourself, Mr Smith, by letting her snore on,’ returned Cooling. ‘I asked where Miss Sheringham was, Mr Oakley.’

  ‘She’s in the Temple,’ answered Oakley, and added while they stared, ‘She arrived there just before you left.’

  ‘H’m,’ murmured Cooling. ‘Is that serious news?’

  ‘Damn serious. In fact, the most serious we’ve had yet.’

  ‘Explain the seriousness, please.’

  ‘Yes, but wait a moment!’ interposed Medworth, nervily postponing the explanation. ‘If she’s there—’

  ‘What do you mean, if she’s there?’ asked Oakley. ‘Funny, how I can’t cotton to you somehow.’

  ‘Well—we didn’t see her,’ muttered Medworth, reddening.

  ‘If I remember rightly, you weren’t in a very good position to see anything,’ Oakley reminded him. ‘You didn’t see the High Priest, either, or a native child. They crossed the Temple and went into the Priest’s quarters just before I said “Cuckoo” to you.’

  ‘That’s right, make a joke of it!’ growled Medworth.

  ‘I am not making a joke of it,’ replied Oakley icily. ‘That is just the way I talk.’ He turned to Cooling. ‘There’s one word I didn’t include in that glossary I gave you. Mumba. It means sacrifice.’

  There was a short silence. Then Cooling asked quietly:

  ‘And, knowing that, you brought us away?’

  ‘Knowing that, I brought you away,’ answered Oakley. ‘She won’t be touched till sunrise—the trial, you know—and this is not a matter for a sudden rescue. It’s got to be a complete rescue—and we’ve got to keep our heads.’

  ‘I like you a trifle better than I did, Mr Oakley. And I agree that we have got to keep our heads. Emphatically. If we don’t, we shall undoubtedly lose them. Can we trust Ben to do his bit?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what we’ve got to talk about.’

  ‘You�
�ve lost your faith in him a little?’

  ‘In his intentions, no. In his capability—well, the H.P. scored the last point. He interpreted Ben’s expression into a desire for these sacrifices. And he means to have them.’

  ‘But, surely,’ said Cooling, ‘Oomoo can readjust that at the trial?’

  ‘If I could be sure of that I wouldn’t worry,’ replied Oakley.

  ‘Why aren’t you sure?’

  ‘For one thing, Ben may go pop and give the show away at any moment. He’s developing trances. For another, I’m not absolutely certain that the H.P. isn’t weakening already in his belief that Ben is Oomoo. He’ll be in a far more dangerous state tomorrow than he’s in today.’

  ‘What will happen, in your opinion, if Ben makes a sign tomorrow which you interpret to the Priest as a cancellation of the sacrifices?’

  ‘This—in my opinion. The H.P. by that time will be in a frenzy of desire for them. He will spend the whole night working himself up—though you needn’t worry about the safety of Miss Sheringham and the child. They won’t be touched. They’re sacred. I know how these things go. But if Oomoo goes back on his word at the trial, the H.P. will feel thwarted and suspicious. He’ll test Ben again—and that may be the end of Ben.’

  ‘What would be the test?’

  ‘Can’t say. But one is pricking Ben’s stomach.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Pricking his stomach. Ben survived it last time, and gave the impression that Oomoo liked pain. I’ve a notion the H.P. will see just how much pain Oomoo can stand if things don’t go the way he wants tomorrow.’

  ‘I see,’ murmured Cooling. ‘Yes, I see. By the way, Mr Oakley, does it occur to us that our little stoker is, after all, something of a hero?’

  ‘Best one I’ve come across,’ answered Oakley. ‘But, of course, not the usual type. And it’s not heroism we want at the moment—it’s a plan.’

  ‘You’ve none?’

  ‘I’ve one, if everything else goes phut.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ll have to kill the High Priest.’

  ‘That sounds a very nice plan,’ said Lord Cooling. ‘I wonder we didn’t think of it before!’

  ‘I’ve thought of it twenty thousand times before,’ replied Oakley, ‘but it’s no good doing a thing just for the fun of it. If I kill the dear lad, that won’t get us off the island. We’d have the whole island against us, led by the Chief—to a man. The Chief is simple in a great many ways, but he isn’t quite as simple as all that.’

  Medworth chipped in suddenly.

  ‘Yes, but damn it all,’ he exclaimed, ‘why couldn’t Oomoo have ordered you to kill the Priest?’

  ‘Sounds simple, doesn’t it?’ answered Oakley.

  ‘Come, come!’ said Smith, backing Medworth up. ‘You must admit it’s an idea!’

  Of course it’s an idea. It even occurred to yours truly. But why should Oomoo order me to kill the High Priest?’

  ‘Fools like these don’t need reasons!’ retorted Medworth.

  ‘Wrong, as usual,’ answered Oakley. ‘They do need reasons. I don’t say mental ones, but ones they can feel! A devout Catholic would need a reason for the murder of the Pope—though of course, murder isn’t a part of the Catholic religion. Just the same, the natives wouldn’t stand for it … Unless, perhaps, Oomoo killed the Priest himself—’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ cried Medworth.

  ‘Now, that is an idea!’ beamed Smith pastily.

  ‘You know, you two make me tired,’ complained Oakley. ‘One can’t think aloud without being pounced on. I’ll tell you why not. Because Ben isn’t Oomoo, and the High Priest would get in the first thrust. Yes, and that’s what you chaps keep on forgetting. Ben isn’t Oomoo. If he were he could prove his bona fides by being boiled in the pot and coming out smiling. Then the natives would accept anything he did without question—and without any intermediary. Real evidence of the miracle—that’s what we need to help us through—and Ben can’t supply it.’

  ‘There’s another point we mustn’t forget,’ added Cooling. ‘If Ben were really Oomoo he would, I gather, require these sacrifices.’

  ‘Indubitably,’ nodded Oakley. ‘You’ve said it.’

  Medworth gave a cry of exasperation.

  ‘Then if we can’t kill the High Priest, why the devil did you suggest it?’ he demanded.

  ‘I suggested killing the High Priest because, if all else fails, I—not Ben—will certainly kill the High Priest,’ replied Oakley. ‘But it will have to be done by some subtle method as yet undiscovered … Hallo! Who’s here?’

  He paused abruptly as a figure slipped quickly into the compound. It was Tom Haines, excited and breathless.

  ‘By Jove—bit of luck, getting back before that second gong—never thought I’d do it!’ he panted. ‘Whew!’

  ‘Er—so you’ve got back, eh?’ said Smith, imagining a silence of two seconds was an eternity.

  ‘Looks like it, doesn’t it?’ he replied. ‘I see you have, too! Find any gold nuggets? Where’s Miss Sheringham?’

  Oakley answered this time. No one else seemed anxious to.

  ‘She’s safe for the time being,’ he remarked. ‘Safer than the rest of us. Tell you about her presently. What’s your news?’

  Haines looked at him sharply. Despite Oakley’s casual tone he detected the serious note behind it. Glancing round, he saw the serious note reflected in the faces of the others.

  ‘My news waits,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear, Oakley! Where is she?’

  Oakley shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘As you like. The High Priest has taken her to the Temple—’

  ‘My God!’

  ‘Don’t get excited. I told you she was safe, and she is. If she weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. She’ll be safe till sunrise—and, by that time, we’ll all be at the Temple to give her a hand, if necessary.’

  Haines controlled himself with an effort. Then he walked to Oakley, and looked at him fixedly.

  ‘If anything happens to Miss Sheringham,’ he said, ‘it’ll happen to the lot of us.’

  ‘I’d agree with you if she were the only lady in the party,’ answered Oakley. ‘But nothing’s going to happen to her if we keep steady. Will you oblige while I give you the full particulars?’

  ‘Have you seen me lose my head yet?’

  ‘No. You’re a ship’s officer.’

  ‘I don’t forget it. Carry on! Well?’

  Briefly and unemotionally, Oakley related the circumstances. When he had finished, Haines stared hard at the ground for a while. Then he said quietly:

  ‘Thanks, Oakley. Now I’ll tell you my news. But, first, just repeat one thing. I don’t disbelieve you, but I want it repeated all the same. Miss Sheringham is absolutely safe till the trial? You’re quite sure of that?’

  ‘Quite sure. Unless—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Unless we create some new situation by doing anything silly.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Rushing to the Temple and trying to rescue her without a plan.’

  ‘I agree that would be silly. We’ll find the plan. But meanwhile I’d like to know why you’re so sure?’

  ‘Knowledge of the island, old dear. Knowledge of the natives. Knowledge of the High Priest. While he’s left to himself, and while he remains undisturbed and unsuspicious, he’s got no cause to harm either Miss Sheringham or Yaala—that’s the child’s name. On the contrary, if anybody touched a hair of their heads, he’d run the person through. And now it’s your turn, Haines, and I shan’t mind if you look slippy. I’ve got to sound that second gong before 1990. By the way, I suppose it isn’t 1990 yet, is it? I’ve gone a bit rusty on dates.’

  ‘Well, my news is quite interesting,’ answered Haines. ‘I’ve found Ardentino.’

  ‘Indeed?’ interposed Cooling. ‘Yes, that is interesting! Was he at the top of a tree?’

  ‘Not when I found him. He’d just descended from one—rather too qui
ckly. He’s hurt his leg.’

  ‘I see. And that’s why he hasn’t come along?’

  ‘One reason. Another is that we decided it would be more useful to have him where he is than here.’

  ‘And where is he?’

  ‘Near a secluded bay. I could take you to it. In fact, I’d hoped—’ He gave a sudden groan. ‘Do you know, Oakley, the absence of Miss Sheringham is the worst luck that could have happened. There are boats in the bay!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ replied Oakley, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘You didn’t know, then?’

  ‘Sure, I didn’t know.’

  ‘But this island has boats?’

  ‘They are all in dry dock.’ Suddenly Oakley looked at Haines sharply. ‘By Jove!’ he murmured. ‘By jolly old Jove! Yes—your news is interestin’!’

  ‘Exactly,’ nodded Haines. ‘If these boats don’t belong to the islanders here, who do they belong to?’

  ‘Perhaps you can tell us?’ asked Oakley.

  ‘I can only tell you what Ardentino told me,’ replied Haines. ‘While he was at the top of his tree, he saw a pack of black folk on the beach. As a matter of fact, it was the black folk that sent him up his tree. They were beaching their boats and hiding them. And then they came inland, and began climbing through the forest. If my geography’s right, they climbed towards the Temple from the farther side … Well, Oakley—how does that affect the position?’

  22

  Oakley Goes Scouting

  Oakley walked to the exit and stood for a few moments with his back to them. He was gazing into the distance over the prostrate bodies of the guards. Nothing stirred within his vision. The brooding silence of the island remained unbroken. Then he returned, and there was a noticeable change in his manner.

  ‘Do you feel like taking an order, Haines,’ he asked, ‘and seeing it’s obeyed?’

  ‘I’ll take it from you if that’s a good order, Oakley,’ answered Haines.

  ‘And I will help him to see that it is obeyed,’ added Lord Cooling. ‘Always count on England in a crisis.’

  ‘Oh, this is a crisis all right,’ said Oakley. ‘The order is to stay right where you are, and not to budge till I return.’