The Far Reaches (36 page)

“Sister,” he said, his tone cold and formal. His granite features were arranged in a grim visage, not angry but stern, as if he were a headmaster and she an unruly student requiring punishment. He held a manila envelope in his hand. Without further preamble, he lifted it toward her, though it was clear he had no intention of immediately handing it over. “Is there somewhere we might go for privacy?”

“Merry Christmas, Sister!” came a booming voice behind her.

She whirled about and saw to her astonishment Colonel Burr striding toward her, a big grin on his wicked face. “Colonel,” she replied coolly, before remembering her humility. “It is so good to see you.”

Burr opened his arms as if to envelop her, but her rigid posture dissuaded him and he dropped them. Josh followed with Turu, both nodding a greeting. Burr said, “Your instructions to the Holy Joe here were enough for me to find you, Sister. I am distressed to hear, however, the Japanese have not yet surrendered in these islands, even with Captain Thurlow's august presence.”

“Perhaps you will persuade them, sor,” she answered, her courage, shaken by the priest, returning.

Burr turned up his hands. “Sorry, Sister. Much as I hate to admit it, and in this one instance, I agree with Thurlow. I'd need the Second Marines behind me before I'd even think of asking a Jap officer to surrender. Even then, I doubt he'd do it. At least I've brought Father Donnelly for you. So please get your business done, and quickly. Yon sub will be going back on patrol this very day, I expect. I will go with it, and Father Donnelly, too. Josh will also join us.”

“I will not, Montague,” Josh replied.

“That's still open for debate, my friend,” Burr purred. “Now, Sister, you and the cleric have church business to attend to. What it is, he would not say, but let's have it done. Thurlow, are we ever to have breakfast?”

“Rose will soon have eggs on the griddle,” Josh answered, “and the coffee's boiling.”

Burr looked about with quiet satisfaction. “This is a lovely island. I can see how a man might fall in love with it.” He touched his stomach. “But breakfast now, Thurlow, then I'll see my three marines and get them back to discipline, and then all the rest, eh?”

Josh and Burr and Turu walked back up the common road, and Sister Mary Kathleen and Father Donnelly were left alone, not counting the sailors
who had come across the lagoon on the raft, plus a dozen or so sleepy-eyed villagers. Chief Kalapa was among them. He looked as if he had been dragged through the dirt upside down. Such was the effect of combining kava and mangojack.

“Well, Sister, where shall we do this?” Father Donnelly asked. It was more of a demand.

“Chief Kalapa, good morning to ye,” Sister Mary Kathleen greeted the clearly ailing chief. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and his stomach sagged over his poorly tied lava-lava. He managed to raise a hand, though it trembled. She switched to the local dialect. “Could this priest and I use the boathouse for a short meeting? We require privacy.”

“You may,” Chief Kalapa answered. His head felt like a split coconut. “Only please no sorcery. It is too early in the morning.”

“No sorcery, Chief. I promise.”

Chief Kalapa nodded, then trudged toward home, being careful to step over a fella boy passed out on the road.

Sister Mary Kathleen led Father Donnelly inside the boathouse, after first bowing to the totem. The priest did not bow but clutched the envelope as if it were a club, following her to the front of the house, where she bade him sit on a palm log bench. He elected to stand. “I have your answer,” he said tautly “I thought your case demanded extra effort, so I caught a lift to Australia, where I sought out the bishop in Cairns.”

Though her heart was beating fiercely, she worked for inner serenity. “Get on with it, Father, if ye please.”

More curious villagers gathered outside the boathouse, including Mr. Bucknell, who sat down on one of the nearby school benches. He idly began to draw in the sand with the tip of his umbrella, waiting with everyone else, though for what he had no idea. The only word was that Sister Mary Kathleen was closeted with an official of her church, surely a sorcerer who had brought a missive from the high sorcerer of the Catholics on this the holy birthday of the god Jesus.

Shortly the priest appeared on the boathouse porch, looking about until he spied Mr. Bucknell. “Sir, would you do something for me?” he asked.

Mr. Bucknell approached and introduced himself. “If there is anything a representative of His Majesty's government can do, I shall certainly comply.”

“The woman within requires assistance. She has asked for two women, one named Mori and one named Rose.”

“The woman within?”

“The nun,” he answered coldly.

“I shall see to it immediately,” Bucknell said and told one of the fella boys in the crowd to go after Jahtalo's wife and Chief Kalapa's first wife. “Is she all right, Captain?” Bucknell inquired after squinting to see the man's Marine Corps rank pinned to the collar of his utilities.

The priest-captain did not reply. He stood on the porch with a stern expression while the silent crowd studied him. Some of the villagers were wondering if he was going to perform magic. To their infinite disappointment, he didn't, and it wasn't long before Rose and Mori, both a little breathless, appeared and went inside the boathouse. A few minutes later, Mori came out and ran back up the common road. There was much discussion of this event among the onlookers, which increased in volume when the first wife came back, this time carrying a package tied with a hemp string. She disappeared inside the boathouse, Father Donnelly all the while maintaining his aloof expression.

It was then that Ready, hearing the commotion, wandered down from his house. He was shirtless and, from his heavily lidded eyes, clearly in a bad way from the previous evening's festivities. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Bucknell,” he said, shading his eyes, even though he was in shadow. “What gives?”

Mr. Bucknell gave Ready a rundown of the proceedings to the minute. Ready became instantly alert and pushed through the crowd to the porch. “Is there something wrong with Sister?” he politely asked the priest.

“It does not concern you,” Father Donnelly sternly replied.

“If it concerns Sister Mary Kathleen, it concerns me,” Ready answered. “What have you done to her?”

After a moment of deliberation, the priest intoned, “It is a matter of the Church, my son. Do not interfere.”

“Tell me or I'll climb up there and knock your block off!” Ready barked.

But Ready didn't knock the priest's block off because Sister Mary Kathleen appeared at that moment at the doorway of the boathouse. It took Ready a moment to recognize her, as she was not wearing her habit but a loose gown made of blue lava-lava cloth that went from her neck to her ankles. Rose and Mori came behind and gave everyone a look of warning. Then the three women descended the steps from the porch and hurried along the path that led back to the treehouse. Ready made to follow, but Mr. Bucknell stopped him. “It would appear Sister wishes some privacy, my boy. Why don't you give it to her?”

“But I don't understand what's happened!” Ready cried.

“Neither do I, but it will come out. Patience, lad. Patience.”

Father Donnelly stepped down from the porch. “What did you do to her?” Ready demanded anew. “Tell me, please!”

“Only what her sins required,” came the priest's haughty response. This was the last thing the priest would say for some minutes, mainly because Ready cocked back his fist and let fly, the punch sending the marine Holy Joe sprawling on his back. He stared up with unfocused eyes, a bloody nose, and a groan.

“So much for a troublesome priest,” Mr. Bucknell chuckled, then bent down to see the damage. “Come on, Father. Snap out of it! I think you must have a glass jaw.”

Ready started up the path to the treehouse, then stopped and reconsidered. Mr. Bucknell was right. Sister wanted privacy. So he headed toward Captain Thurlow's house, finding him sitting in a chair with Colonel Burr in another, both drinking coffee and having a genial conversation. The colonel's presence was a shock, but he was not Ready's priority. Ready nodded to Burr, then blurted a description to Josh of what had transpired at the boathouse. “I don't know what to do,” Ready concluded.

“Why come to me? You're in charge of everything.”

Ready ran his hand through his hair. “Because I don't know what to do, and I'm tired of being in charge. You take it back, sir. I'll do whatever you say!”

Josh, pleased beyond measure over this turnabout, advised Ready to have a seat and poured the unsettled young man a cup of coffee. “Something awful's happened to her, I know it!” Ready wailed.

“Remain calm, Bosun,” Josh said.

“Is this man under discipline, Josh?” Burr demanded. “It appears he's forgotten how to properly report to a superior officer.”

Josh shrugged. “Never mind that, Montague. We do things a little different here in the Far Reaches. Now, Bosun, look here. I don't know what's happened, but it can't be all that bad. She ain't hurt, the little Sister, is she? No. She's taken off her habit. Well, perhaps she was outside uniform regulations or some such since she's had to stitch her own. The Catholic Church is just like the military, has its rules and regulations, and if you don't follow them, then you have to walk off your demerits. Sister once told me that humility above all else was what a nun worked toward and humiliation was sometimes required, even invited. Maybe that priest came to bring her under discipline like the colonel here will do his marines.”

“That reminds me,” Burr growled. “When do I get to see my wayward boys?”

“They're still asleep, sir,” Ready answered.

Burr's eyes turned cold, and he gestured toward Ready with his cup. “Listen to me, son. Go wake up my marines and tell them to get their butts here and I mean
toot sweet!”

“Calm down, Montague,” Josh said. “Your boys will be along by and by. And what do you know? The navy has arrived.”

Josh stood and held out his hand to a naval officer who had walked up the road from the beach. “Captain Josh Thurlow, United States Coast Guard,” he greeted.

“Captain Taylor Wells,” the handsome young man in crisp khakis said, taking Josh's hand. “It's good to meet you at last, Captain Thurlow. You're a legend out here. The hero of Wilton's Ridge.”

Josh waved the compliment aside and poured the submarine skipper a cup of coffee. He was enjoying playing the proper host. “Wish I could warm that up with some Mount Gay rum, but we're all out.”

Wells took the cup, drank a healthy slug, and smiled. “Good stuff. Best I've had in a very long while.”

“Locally grown,” Josh said proudly. “I expect this island could grow a commercial crop, given some investment.”

“See here, Josh,” Burr snapped. “We didn't come here to talk about coffee beans. Captain Wells has a schedule and we've already disrupted it. Isn't that right, Captain?”

Wells nodded, then shrugged. “A commander has to roll with the punches. But I would like to get going.” He looked at Josh over the rim of his cup. “Anytime you're ready, sir.”

“I won't be going with you,” Josh answered, then added, “This is not a point of discussion or argument.” When Burr started to discuss and argue, Josh raised his hand for silence. “Now, Montague, hold on. You, I, and the skipper here are all of equivalent rank. Admittedly, you have me by your date of rank, but I am still not in your chain of command. In fact, I'm not in anybody's chain of command, except maybe Frank Knox's since I am out here by his invitation. But he told me to use my initiative and see what I could see. Well, I've seen it, and now I'm going to stay right here, at least until I can convince my family to leave.”

“Rationalize it any way you want, Josh, but it's still desertion,” Burr pointed out. “When Admiral Halsey hears about it, he'll likely order you captured, then trussed up on a stake and shot.”

“I'll take my chances with Bull Halsey,” Josh growled.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Captain Thurlow?” Wells asked.

Josh nodded gratefully “There is, Captain Wells. I'd appreciate a full sweep of the area before you go back on patrol. There are at least two Jap barges that work out of Ruka. They need to be sunk.”

Wells shook his head. “I'd like to help out, but Ruka's out of my way. You see, I need to get up north as soon as I can. There's convoys coming down from Tokyo to resupply the Marianas, and I've been ordered to stop them.” Wells leaned toward Josh. “Look, Captain. What can I do to convince you to go with me?”

Josh shook his head. “Nothing. Since I've been here, I have tried to convince my wife and Chief Kalapa and all the others to evacuate down to the Gilberts for the duration of the war. I'll keep doing that, but if they won't go, I'm not going to abandon them.”

Wells smiled. “I understand. I've seen your wife. A marine pointed her out to me on the beach.”

Burr growled, “Well, I ain't leaving here without you, Josh.”

Josh, oft surprised since he'd been in the Far Reaches, was surprised once more. “Why, Montague. I didn't know you cared!”

Burr frowned one of his deeper frowns. “I don't give a rat's rear end about you. Never have and never will. But I have my orders, and they were clear. I am to bring you back to Halsey. I've half a mind to get Captain Wells here to send a contingent of his sailor boys to tie you up and drag you aboard. Then again, as much as I hate to say it, you've made some sense. You've taken on a responsibility here, and I guess you can't sail away from it. Therefore, I've decided to stay and help you convince these people to es-cape while they still can.”

Josh was shocked by the offer. “Thanks but no thanks, Montague! You go on with Captain Wells. I'll be along by and by”