‘I wanted to tell him that a hurricane is going to hit this island in two days’ time. He threw us out and banished the hurricane by decree.’
‘Christ!’ said Causton. ‘As though we don’t have enough to put up with. Are you serious about this?’
‘I am.’
Mrs Warmington gave a shrill squeak. ‘We should get to the Base,’ she said angrily. ‘We’ll be safe on the Base.’
Wyatt looked at her for a moment, then said to Causton in a low voice, ‘I’d like to talk to you for a minute.’
Causton took one look at Wyatt’s serious face, then finished his drink. ‘I have to go up to my room for the tapes; you’d better come with me.’
He got up from the chair stiffly, and Wyatt said to Julie, ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ then followed him into the foyer. Causton produced a flashlight and they climbed the stairs to the first floor. Wyatt said, ‘I’m pretty worried about things.’
‘This hurricane?’
‘That’s right,’ said Wyatt, and told Causton about it in a few swift sentences, not detailing his qualms, but treating the hurricane as a foregone conclusion. He said, ‘Somehow I feel a responsibility for the people downstairs. I think Julie won’t crack, but I’m not too sure about the other woman. She’s older and she’s nervous.’
‘She’ll run you ragged if you let her,’ said Causton. ‘She looks the bossy kind to me.’
‘And then there’s Eumenides – he’s an unknown quantity but I don’t know that I’d like to depend on him. Dawson is different, of course.’
Causton’s flashlight flickered about his room. ‘Is he? Put not your faith in brother Dawson – that’s a word to the wise.’
‘Oh,’ said Wyatt. ‘Anyway, I’m in a hell of a jam. I’ll have to shepherd this lot to safety somehow, and that means leaving town.’
A cane chair creaked as Causton sat down. ‘Now let me get this straight. You say we’re going to be hit by a hurricane. When?’
‘Two days,’ said Wyatt. ‘Say half a day either way.’
‘And when it comes, the Base is going to be destroyed.’
‘For all practical purposes – yes.’
‘And so is St Pierre.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So you want to take off for the hills, herding along these people downstairs. That’s heading smack into trouble, you know.’
‘It needn’t be,’ said Wyatt. ‘We need to get about a hundred feet above sea-level and on the northern side of a ridge – a place like that shouldn’t be too difficult to find just outside St Pierre. Perhaps up the Negrito on the way to St Michel.’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ said Causton definitely. ‘Favel will be coming down the Negrito. From the sound of those guns he’s already in the upper reaches of the valley.’
‘How do we know those are Favel’s guns?’ said Wyatt suddenly. ‘Serrurier has plenty of artillery of his own.’
Causton sounded pained. ‘I’ve done my homework. Serrurier was caught flat-footed. The main part of his artillery was causing a devil of a traffic jam just north of the town not two hours ago. If Favel hurries up he’ll capture the lot. Listen to it – he’s certainly pouring it on.’
‘That shipment of arms you were talking about must have been a big one.’
‘Maybe – but my guess is that he’s staking everything on one stroke. If he doesn’t come right through and capture St Pierre he’s lost his chips.’
‘If he does, he’ll lose his army,’ said Wyatt forcibly.
‘God, I hadn’t thought of that.’ Causton looked thoughtful. ‘This is going to be damned interesting. Do you suppose he knows about this hurricane?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Wyatt. ‘Look, Causton, we’re wasting time. I’ve got to get these people to safety. Will you help? You seem to know more of what’s going on out there than anybody.’
‘Of course I will, old boy. But, remember, I’ve got my own job to do. I’ll back you up in anything you say, and I’ll come with you and see them settled out of harm’s way. But after that I’ll have to push off and go about my master’s business – my editor would never forgive me if I wasn’t in the right place at the right time.’ He chuckled. ‘I dare say I’ll get a good story out of Big Jim Dawson, so it will be worth it.’
They went back to the bar and Causton called out, ‘Wyatt’s got something very important to tell you all, so gather round. Where’s Dawson?’
‘He was here not long ago,’ said Julie. ‘He must have gone out.’
‘Never mind,’ said Causton. ‘I’ll tell him myself – I’ll look forward to doing that. All right, Mr Wyatt; get cracking.’ He sat down and began to thread a spool of tape into the miniature recorder he took from his pocket.
Wyatt was getting very tired of repeating his story. He no longer attempted to justify his reasons but gave it to them straight, and when he had finished there was a dead silence. The Greek showed no alteration of expression – perhaps he had not understood; Julie was pale, but her chin came up; Mrs Warmington was white with two red spots burning in her cheeks. She was suddenly voluble. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she exploded. ‘No American Navy Base can be destroyed. I demand that you take me to Cap Sarrat immediately.’
‘You can demand until you’re blue in the face,’ said Wyatt baldly. ‘I’m going nowhere near Cap Sarrat.’ He turned to Julie. ‘We’ve got to get out of St Pierre and on to high ground, and that may be difficult. But I’ve got the car and we can all cram into it. And we’ve got to take supplies – food, water, medical kit and so on. We should find plenty of food in the kitchens here, and we can take soda- and mineral-water from the bar.’
Mrs Warmington choked in fury. ‘How far is it to the Base?’ she demanded, breathing hard.
‘Fifteen miles,’ said Causton. ‘Right round the bay. And there’s an army between here and the Base.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘I wouldn’t try it, Mrs Warmington; I really wouldn’t.’
‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you all,’ she snapped. ‘These natives wouldn’t touch us – the Government knows better than to interfere with Americans. I say we should get to the Base before those rebels come down from the hills.’
Papegaikos, standing behind her, gripped her shoulder. ‘I t’ink it better you keep your mout’ shut,’ he said. His voice was soft but his grip was hard, and Mrs Warmington winced. ‘I t’ink you are fool woman.’ He looked across at Wyatt. ‘Go on.’
‘I was saying we should load up the car with food and water and get out of here,’ said Wyatt wearily.
‘How long must we reckon on?’ asked Julie practically.
‘At least four days – better make it a week. This place will be a shambles after Mabel has passed.’
‘We’ll eat before we go,’ she said. ‘I think we’re all hungry. I’ll see what there is in the kitchen – will sandwiches do?’
‘If there are enough of them,’ said Wyatt with a smile.
Mrs Warmington sat up straight. ‘Well, I think you’re all crazy, but I’m not going to stay here by myself so I guess I’ll have to come along. Come, child, let’s make those sandwiches.’ She took a candle and swept Julie into the inner recesses of the hotel.