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wharf was almost noiseless. It was at this time that Lovett realized a second swimmer was closing in, making a bit more noise as he eased up from the water. Something was whispered, too faint to be understood from any distance. Then the two dim silhouettes embraced, a soft chuckle shared, and though he could see very little, now Lovett knew the slender silhouettes had to be Keikano and Chip who were now hurriedly putting their clothes on as they sat together on the big stones. I didn't want to see this, he told himself, thinking of that embtace against the stars. Maybe not, himself replied, but if you keep spying on the kid you deserve what you get. With great stealth, Lovett began to inch his way back to the darker black of old fuel drums at the wharf's edge until he brushed against one. And because it was empty, it made a sound like stroking a bass drum with a broom. To Lovett's subjective ear it seemed more like the tolling of a gong. Instantly the small sounds from the near distance ceased. A moment later, the unmistakable sounds of flight, footsteps swishing through rank grass, fronds clashing softly as bodies rushed away. And now Lovett was alone, and could stand up and make his way back, this time by way of the sheds. He strode into the council house as if he owned it, and beat Chip back to their room by a good half-hour. This time, when Chip disrobed, his grandfather didn't feign sleep. "So where the hell--cancel that." It wasn't even an honest question; he knew bloody well where Chip had been. "Got any news, Chip?" "Not yet. We'll see tomorrow," was the whispered reply, sounding suspiciously hoarse with exhaustion. And if Chip wasn't asleep in thirty seconds, he was a superb faker. The next morning, Chip deflected questions with, if there's news, somebody will tell us," and they'd been hard at work for an hour before they heard the half-track clamoring along the perimeter road. Keikano rode with the native crew, explaining that-surprise!-they would need several more loads of logs as replacements, and more still for spares. Somehow, he said with exaggerated innocence while Pilau looked on, their log rafts had broken loose during the night, floating out with the creek's flow as far as the breakwater. Now they were just so many logs again, flotsam thudding around in the surf. It would be quicker to have Benteen transport a few more loads than to recover the rafts that had already broken up in rolling waves. Myles again borrowed the half-track to move debris. Chip and the schoolteacher studiously avoided much interaction until, an hour later, Benteen went thundering off down the road again with the native crew, minus Keikano. Chip threw an arm around the shoulder of the smaller youth, watching the letoumeau disappear, and both began to laugh. A gentle High Five followed. Lovett did not want to admit that he knew the reason for their elation; he'd have to face Chip's accusing look when he did it. Instead, he waited until Coop asked what the joke was as they loaded brush into the half-track. "Rongi said the rafts should not be floated so soon," Keikano replied, with a look of di may so deliberately bogus that no six-year-old could have missed it. "But Merizo insisted. Now Jean-Claude will be angry at the delay and he will direct it at his minister." Eyes twinkling, he suddenly favored them with one of those gorgeous smiles. "I suggested that, in addition to replacing the rafts, an extra supply of logs should be left near the lagoon. Merizo liked that." "In case more rafts float away," Lovett nodded sagely. "Good idea, Keikano. But I think it could be very suspicious, in fact downright damned dangerous, if any more logs head for the surf." More sternly now: "You understand me?" "Oh yes," said Keikano brightly. "It was I who said that someone should sleep with the new rafts, to be sure they do not seek the sea again." "So of course you couldn't have shown them how to seek it," Lovett persisted. "It would be normal to think that way," Keikano agreed. Lovett's glance toward Chip was accusing. "Okay, it worked, and thanks. But I'm going gray-all right, dainmit, my roots are getting grayer-worrying about t. he pranks you two play on King Kong." "Kei would've done it alone, Pop," Chip said. "As long as I couldn't argue him out of it, I could help make the job go quicker. Actually we had to make sure those rafts would get all the way to the surf. If they got hung up I was afraid Pilau could've used the half-track like a mule to tow everything back this morning, and I didn't want to crow until the eggs hatched, so to speak." "No more jobs like that, Chip, unless you want to risk being a capon, okay?" Lovett waited for a nod, and Chip gave it to him. "You swim as my father did," Keikano said admiringly to the tall youth. "I had no idea. But you do make too much noise, Chip." "Tide going out means freshwater in the stream. I'm not used to working that hard to stay afloat," Chip explained. Keikano's shrug implied that anybody who would use such an excuse was, perhaps, not really at home in the water. Lovett realized that while Chip thought himself a regular Evinrude on a surfboard, islanders might as well have gill slits. By the day's end, long after Keikano had left with Pilau and his final load of logs, they could look down a long swath of runway to the beach itself. The rough strip was now about the width of the Betty's wingspan, its upper reaches terminating in that untouched stand of trees hiding the cave's half demolished wall. Benteen, who had been chauffering logs and natives for much of the day, learned about the rafting scarn later, as they were laboriously refueling her Letoumeau. Tropical rain fell in little spits and spats, though the late sun still shone. "We're topped off," she called to Coop, and replaced the fuel cap. From her commanding height, she squinted toward the cave. "Tomorrow I might get another twenty feet mowed. Then what?" "Keep mowing," said Myles who, like Lovett, had flown enough in Southeast Asia to intuit the problems Reventlo might have in landing. "Even if we don't get it all taken away, Cris will need enough clearance for wings." Chip brightened suddenly. "A big helicopter would be cool. Can he fly one?" "Dunno if he's qualified, but he's not coming in a helo," Myles said. "He knows we couldn't fuel it and anything with rotors uses more fuel than a blast furnace." "Pilatus Turbo could make it, I think," Lovett mused. For once Myles took Lovett's words for wisdom, nodding. "You could grease a little Pilatus down on this strip just as it stands, but whatever you're flying, get yourself a crosswind gust and those trunks would take your wing off like a chicken-plucker. "Or he could dig a wheel into a soft spot in this crap," Lovett said, kicking a clod, "and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |