Road to Paradise Island Read online

  "There was gold there—the metal which we call precious was as plentiful as the fish in the sea and the fruit on the trees. One could see it in the streams... on the surface of the earth. One picked up handfuls of earth and there was gold. They had learned how to weld it into necklaces and bangles. They polished it and held it up to the sun. I fancy they thought the gold had captured something of the sun itself and that was why they used it to such an extent. They worshipped the sun. The life giver. They watched it rise every morning and welcomed it with joy; and they were always very solemn when they watched it disappear at night. I remember standing there on the shore with them watching the great red ball drop below the horizon. It seemed to disappear suddenly. There is no twilight. Sunset is different there from how we know it. It is hard to believe that it is the same sun. But I shall go on talking for ever about my island."

  "I love to hear of it."

  "I lived with them ... for how long? I really have no idea. I became almost one of them."

  "Did you not want to come home ... back to your family?"

  "Oddly enough I did not think of them. I seemed to be in a different world. I had forgotten my ambition to sail the seas and discover new worlds. I was contented to live their life. I fished with them; with their help I built a house for myself. I lived as they lived; and I was aware of a great contentment. It is difficult to explain. I think it had something to do with the inborn goodness of these people. I would not have believed there could be such a place in the world."

  "Why did you leave it? How did you leave it?"

  "At times I think there is something mystic about my experience. That is why I am reluctant to talk of it. They lived on fish and as I told you, it abounded in the seas. We spent a great deal of the days in the boats. They were primitive craft... rather like canoes. I remember the day well. The canoes held two people and we used to fish in twos. I often went with one of them whose name sounded like Wamgum. He and I were special friends. He had taught me a few words of his language and I was able to make myself understood now and then. I taught him some of my words too.

  "Well Wamgum and I went out. The sun was high in the sky, blazing down on us. We had a covering of straw on our heads for protection. We did not start to fish immediately. We just paddled along and after a while allowed ourselves to drift. I remember looking back at the island, lush, green and beautiful. I sang a song of my country which always delighted them. Wamgum closed his eyes as he listened. I dozed too.

  "When I awoke heavy clouds obscured the sun. It was almost dark. I awoke Wamgum in some alarm. He looked about him in dismay. The island was no longer visible. A gust of wind suddenly shook the canoe.

  "Storms spring up suddenly in tropical seas. The rain started to teem down, the wind to roar. It was happening again—and this time I was in a frail canoe. We could not fight against the elements. We were overboard, clinging to the canoe. Suddenly Wamgum was no longer there. A great wave seized the canoe and broke it in half flinging it high into the air. I found myself clinging to a piece of wood. It was as it had been before. Death was close to me. I thought, This must be the end. I clung to the wood. I was able to hoist myself onto it so that I was above the water. I hung on. I was tossed and shaken and it seemed like a miracle that I was able to keep my hold on the wood.

  "It could not happen again, I thought, unless I was being saved for some special purpose. This time it must be the end.

  "I do not know how long I clung there. It was all happening again ... the numbness ... the consciousness slipping away ... the waiting for the sea to swallow me. I lost count of time. I did not know whether it was day or night. I could only cling to my spar and wonder whether the next gigantic wave would carry me off.

  "The wind dropped suddenly. The sea was still rough but my broken piece of wood was riding the waves. The sky was bright; the sun so pitiless that I almost wished for the storm. I floated on these calm seas limp, exhausted for ... I did not know how long.

  "I was picked up by a passing ship but by that time I was not sure where I was or even who I was. I remember lying in the darkness of that ship, cool drinks passing my lips. I was delirious, I think. I talked of the island.

  "Gradually I began to emerge from that state. The ship's doctor came to me. He said they were bound for Rotterdam and he told me that I had come through my ordeal miraculously. Rarely could anyone have come so near to death and escaped. I was suffering from acute sunstroke, starvation and exhaustion. But I was young and strong and before the journey was completed I had completely recovered."

  "What an extraordinary adventure. Suppose it hadn't happened the way it did, you would not be here now."

  I looked so forlorn that he laughed. "You would never have known me so you would not have grieved for me."

  "I shall never let you go on voyages without me."

  "We'll go together."

  "Do you still want to go, after all that happened?"

  "I must go. It is my life... I feel I must go and discover new lands. Besides, I have to go back to the island."

  "Could you find it?"

  "It won't be easy. I talked of it to the sailors. They thought I was delirious. An island where the savages are gentle, where love and amity reign, where the fish and fruit abound to supply all their needs; where one picks up gold and uses it for cooking pots. I was indeed in delirium. And do you know, Ann Alice, there were times when I believed I might have been, that I might have imagined the whole thing. You see, I had been shipwrecked. There was no doubt of that. I was picked up by the ship and brought home. Did I live in that fantasy world when I was half-conscious in my raft? Did it exist outside my imagination?"

  "But you wouldn't have been all that time on the raft?"

  "The time was short. I couldn't have been more than a couple of

  weeks on the island. It seemed a very long time... looking back. Sunrise merging into sunset. The days seemed long. I can't be sure. Sometimes I think they are right. That is why I must go back to find that island."

  "I shall come with you."

  "Oh, Ann Alice, I knew you would feel as I do. I knew it the moment we met... that first day. I have made a map. I want to show you. I have placed the island where I believe it to be. I know where we had sailed. I can roughly estimate where we were when the storm struck us ... so I can't be far wrong."

  "Oh yes, please show me the map."

  "I will."

  He put his arm round me and held me against him. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me. We stayed thus for some minutes, our arms entwined.

  Then vaguely in the distance I heard the sound of footsteps, but I wanted nothing more than to stay close to Magnus.

  A voice broke in on the stillness. "I don't understand you. Why don't you do it? It's easy enough. What's happened to you? You've changed. Fallen in love with the easy life, eh? Edging out of the bargain."

  It was the voice of Desmond Featherstone. It sounded harsh and angry. I had never heard that tone before. I wondered to whom he was talking. To whom could he be speaking? Only my stepmother. Surely not. I could not imagine anyone's daring to talk to her like that.

  "What is it?" asked Magnus.

  "I thought someone was coming. Listen."

  The footsteps were dying away.

  "They evidently changed their minds," said Magnus. "They have left us with this beautiful garden to ourselves."

  "I think we ought to go back. I shall be missed." I sighed with reluctance. "I should like to stay here forever."

  We kissed again.

  "We will make plans," said Magnus. "Tomorrow I will show you the map of the island."

  We went back to the house together.

  So here I sit in my bedroom with my journal before me. I am so glad I started to write it. I want to capture every moment of this night and hold it forever. It is the happiest night of my life.

  While I am thinking of it, though, every now and then I hear Desmond Featherstone's voice intruding. It spoils the perfection of th
e night. I wonder what he meant. It is there puzzling me, forcing its

  way into my happiness... bringing a faintly unpleasant whiff into perfection.

  June 30th Mr. James Cardew came this afternoon. It seems that I forget my journal except when something wonderful or disastrous happens. Perhaps that is as well. If I recorded everyday happenings it would become decidedly boring. As it is, when I read back I can relive the highlights—good or evil.

  It is more than a month since Magnus and I revealed our love for each other. What a wonderful month! How we have talked! We have made so many plans. It was arranged that he was to stay in England for a year during which time he would study the methods which were used here. His family had thought that my brother might care to go into the Perrensen business to study their methods in exchange. And this would probably have happened if Charles had been here. My father had said that Charles would want to go when he returned home.

  Magnus must stay his term here. He wants to. Much as he longs for our marriage he was completely absorbed in the making of maps and very interested in our methods. I wouldn't have wanted to disturb that for I had determined that I should never put anything in the way of his work.

  So, we planned. Next year, early next year, we would be married, and I should go home with him.

  He talked a great deal about Norway—the beautiful fjords and mountains. He showed me maps of his country and the place where his family had a country house. I was so happy. I was living in the future. I saw before me an idyllic life. I should see the midnight sun. I should lie in a boat in the fjords, I should fish and swim with him. We would ride through the forests; and then we would go in search of his island ... together... always together.

  He had shown me the map. There was the island. He had called it Paradise Island.

  "It must be here," he said, pointing. "I have studied maps of the area but there is no mention of it. Here are the Solomon Islands, recently rediscovered. It could be miles south or to the north... I don't know. But it is there ... somewhere. Of course the discovery of these islands is so recent and much of the seas are as yet uncharted. Isn't it exciting? To think of what we have to do? The discoveries we have to make? I am going to make another map, and when it is finished I shall give it to you. Then we shall both have a map on which is my Paradise Island. There will be no other such map in the world ... as yet. Treasure yours, Ann Alice. Keep it in a safe place."

  I have not yet received the map but when I do I shall certainly

  keep it in a safe place. I shall hide it in the drawer with my journal. Magnus does not want anyone to see it. I believe he is afraid that someone else might find the island before he does.

  My father and stepmother know how things are between Magnus and me, although I do not think they realize how serious are our intentions. I have an idea that they believe it to be a boy and girl romance. Calf love, they call it. They seem to forget that I am eighteen years old and Magnus is three years my senior. We are not children, but I suppose parents find it hard to realize that their children have grown up. Oddly enough, only a short time ago my stepmother was talking of giving parties for me so that I could meet a prospective husband. I suppose they feel that only a marriage which they have arranged could be a serious one.

  My father's health has deteriorated lately. Sometimes he looks very tired. My stepmother takes great care of him. She is always fussing over him—rushing up with a rug for his knees if he is sitting in the garden and a cold wind blows up, making sure that he has a cushion behind his head when he dozes off. He is always chiding her for treating him like an invalid. But how he revels in it!

  I was very glad when Desmond Featherstone disappeared soon after my birthday. I had been afraid that he would be hanging about, waylaying me when I went out. It was a great relief to find that he had gone.

  I am writing all this in order to put off the moment when I must write of this terrible thing which has happened.

  Freddy and I had been into Great Stanton in the gig. We had had a wonderful afternoon, calling at the Shop and being with Magnus. I had driven the gig home in a haze of happiness and as we came out of the stables to walk across to the house, a rider came towards us.

  He pulled up and bowed his head in greeting. "Am I right in thinking you are Miss Mallory?" he asked.

  I was startled. I knew him vaguely but could not remember who he was. I said: "Yes."

  "I thought I recognized you. You were much younger when we met."

  "I remember you now. You are a friend of my brother." My voice trailed off. A terrible presentiment had come to me.

  "I have to speak to you. May I leave my horse in your stables and come to the house."

  "What is it?" I cried. "Tell me quickly. Is it my brother?"

  He nodded gravely.

  "We have been so anxious," I said. "Is he ... dead?"

  He said: "The ship was lost off the coast of Australia. I am, I believe, one of the few survivors."

  I felt dizzy. I gripped Freddy's hand. I said: "Freddy, you'd better go and find your Aunt Lois. Tell her ... we have a visitor."

  I took James Cardew to the stables and we were silent while the groom took his horse.

  We walked slowly to the house together.

  "I cannot tell you how it grieves me to be the carrier of such news," he said at length. "But I had to come to see you ... and your father."

  "It was good of you," I told him. "He has not been very well lately. Let me break it to him first."

  My father was dozing in the garden. I went to him and said: "We have a visitor. It is Mr. Cardew. Do you remember Mr. Cardew? He came to see Charles... just before he sailed. Oh, Papa, it is very sad news. Charles..."

  I shall never forget my father's face. It was stricken. He looked old and tired.

  My stepmother came down and sat by my father, holding his hand. James Cardew talked of the voyage, of the terrible night of shipwreck. It seemed to me that this was the fate of all who braved the sea. I had heard so much of the hazards from Magnus—and now it was like hearing the tragic story all over again. Only this one ended in death.

  James Cardew did not stay long. I think he felt that the sight of him could only add to our sorrow.

  Ours is a house of mourning tonight.

  August 1st The sadness persists. We cannot believe that we shall never see Charles again.

  My stepmother has done everything she can to cheer my father. He had one of his turns the day after James Cardew left. My stepmother insisted that the doctor come. He said it was no surprise in view of the shock my father had received.

  It was a particularly bad turn. He stayed in bed for a week. My stepmother read aloud to him from the Bible, which seemed to give him great comfort.

  A few weeks after it happened my father seemed to arouse himself. He went into Great Stanton to see his lawyers.

  He talked to me about it afterwards. "You see, Ann Alice, this makes a great difference. It means the end of our Mallory line. For centuries we have had Mallorys living in this house. Now the chain is broken."

  "Do names matter?" I asked.

  "Families do. People set great store by families. I have to think about this house and everything. If you marry and leave the country, what then? The family is scattered ... the name is lost. Charles would have continued here."

  "Yes, I do see," I said. "But when all is told is it so very important. People should be happy. They find happiness with other people, not houses and names."

  "You talk like a girl in love. It is Magnus, is it not?"

  "Yes, it is Magnus."

  "A bright young man. He is much travelled. He is in love with the business of map making ... as I never really was. Masters is like that. It absorbs some people. Masters says Magnus has a special talent for map making. He has adventure in his blood too. Your brother Charles was like that." He was silent for a moment then he went on: "I have had to see old Grampton."

  Grampton Sons and Henderson are our solicitors.

  "I ha
ve been thinking of the house. That should go to you. What would you do with it? I hope you would never sell it."

  "No, Papa. I would not."

  "I hope there would always be a home for your stepmother here for as long as she lives. I have provided for her. Of course, there is your cousin John. I haven't heard much of him for some time. But he is a Mallory ... so I suppose really the place should go to him... if... by any chance you do not want to live here... That would not be while your stepmother was alive, of course."

  "You talk as though you are going to die, Papa."

  "I don't intend to for a long time yet. But I want to make sure that everything is in order... and in view of what has happened to Charles..." His voice faltered...

  I took his hand and held it. It was rarely that we were demonstrative with each other.

  I do not like such talk. It is almost as though my father thinks he is going to die.

  It has been a strange month. A terrible gloom hangs over the house and it is only when I escape to Magnus that it recedes a little.

  To be so happy and to know tragedy is waiting to strike at any moment makes me pause to think. And in this contemplative mood I turn to my journal.

  September 3rd We are a house of mourning.

  My father died in the night. My stepmother discovered him. She came to me, her face very white, her deep blue eyes enormous and her mouth quivering.

  "Ann, Ann Alice, come with me... and look at your father."

  He was lying on his back, his face white and still. I touched his face. It was very cold.

  I looked at my stepmother and said: "He's... dead."

  "He can't be," she insisted as though begging me to agree with her. "He's had these turns before."