Wealth of the Islands Read Free

“ The boss likes her the way she is! ” he informed her. “ The paint will have to wait until the end of his work here. ”
    Helen was so intent on the boat that she couldn ’ t have cared less about her owner. Sheer, naked envy stirred within her. How she would loved to have owned a boat like that. How her father would have done before her! It was ideal in every way—not so large as to need a whole crew to handle her, but big enough to be able to live on board and to use her as a base for diving, or for carrying a small amount of cargo, or even just to sail the oceans in a modicum of comfort.
    Sweet Promise was a name to conjure with, for she did indeed promise a hundred sweet adventures for anyone lucky enough to have the handling of her.
    Standing on the deck at the bows was a lean man in a filthy yachting cap.
    “ I suppose you want to go to the main island? ” he greeted her as soon as he came within earshot. “ How much luggage have you? ”
    “ Not much, ” she answered.
    The man hailed the Polynesian official and told him to throw her cases aboard on to the deck. “ I ’ ll stow it away in a second, ” he said lazily. “ Do you think you can jump aboard? ” he added to Helen, eyeing her straight skirt with a half-doubtful, half-mischievous look.
    “ I can try, ” she assured him.
    He grinned. “ Don ’ t bother! ” he said. “ I ’ ll come ashore for you !”
    He was as good as his word. Sun-tanned bare feet landed with a thud beside her and his strong hands had grasped her under her elbows and had manhandle d her aboard long before she had time to open her mouth to protest.
    “ We can ’ t allow you to get your finery wet, ” he laughed at her. “ You ’ ll want to arrive at the hotel looking as fresh as you do right now. Am I wrong? ”
    Helen didn ’ t answer him. She rubbed her elbows, trying not to feel foolish. The scrubbed decks of the boat swayed beneath her and she had to clutch on to the hand-rail to keep her balance. There was a smell of diesel oil mixed with salt and canvas that she remembered so well from other boats in other tim es.
    “ Oh, you are lucky !” she exclaimed.
    His eyes met hers, sharp, with interest. “ So you ’ ve been aboard boats before, ” he said. “ But not in these parts, I fancy? ”
    Helen shook her head. “ In Europe, ” she said. “ Mostly with my father, ” she added. “ I haven ’ t done much sailing of late. ”
    His eyes went straight to her wedding-ring and then back to her face. “ That ’ s the penalty of marrying, ” he said abruptly.
    “ It need not be, ” she answered.
    He hurried away in his bare feet to the rear of the boat and shoved the engine into gear and set their course for straight out to sea, avoiding the hidden reefs as he made his way towards the harbour and small port on the m a in island. Helen waved to the Polynesian Customs man and he waved vigorously back at her , glad to see his protégé e successfully on her way. How lovely it was, Helen thought, as the water slapped playfully against the bow and the wind caught in her hair, giving her a taste of the freedom that only boats and a wide sea to sail in can give.
    She sat on the roof of the cabin, her feet stretched out before her to keep her balance, and watched the men working on the boat around her. Most of the crew were Polynesians, their brown bodies gleaming in the evening light. They were all of them big men, their fl esh as soft as a woman ’ s, deceiving the eye, because underneath their muscles were iron strong.
    A few minutes later the man was back beside her. “ You ’ d be safer in the saloon, ” he said abruptly. “ Come on in and I ’ ll make you some coffee. ”
    She thanked him and, although she was sorry to leave her vantage point on deck, she followed him down the narrow companionway into the saloon. It was bigger than she had expected it to be. Lined in polished wood, it was still possible to sit on the seats s that lined the central