Artemis(95)

'Then I have t' return without company,' Kydd said.

'Do so, my friend,' Renzi responded, without a pause.

Kydd waited, then smiled reluctantly. 'Wish y' joy of y'r Nature,' he said, and turned down the path.

Reaching sea-level he moved towards the figures on the beach. He waved to Doud, who had a basket that he was carrying towards the informal market. Doud waved back cheerily. Kydd pressed on and saw his first native at close quarters — a man standing expressionless under a palm gazing at the chattering groups. His brown, oiled body was tall and confident and he wore a fine-patterned bark-cloth skirt, which extended from a broad woven girdle nearly to his ankles. Kydd offered an uncertain smile, which brought no response.

He walked past, approaching the women of the market who sat on palm leaves laid in a criss-cross. Nut-brown and strong-limbed, their noses broad and flat, they had a vitality and animal suppleness. They laughed and chattered and threw looks his way that were unmistakable. ‘Ohe, papalangi’ they teased, and Kydd grinned.

He passed by, heading for the lagoon. It was an idyllic prospect, utterly peaceful and lazy under the tall palms. He was drawn to the canoes pulled up on the sand. They were fine-lined and beautifully finished. He fingered a furled sail, made of a woven matting; it would not stand a gale at sea, but he guessed that the canoe would head for the nearest island if it came on to blow. They would probably be wet and waterlogged in the short seas of the English Channel, but here in the broad Pacific they would respond to the spacious swells by riding up one side and down the other, fast and dry.

His attention was on the canoe and he wasn't aware of the presence of another until he felt a gende touch on his arm. Straightening, he turned to see a native girl hesitandy offering him half a coconut filled with water-juice. Her face was open, and her quick smile widened readily at Kydd's shy response. 'Why, thank 'ee,' he said, uncomfortably aware that her hand still lay on his arm. 'Er - is this y'r boat?' He accepted the shell and tasted. The cool young juice was nectar, and he drank again.

‘Tamaha? she replied happily. She wore an ankle-length coloured skirt similar to those of the men but her upper body was modesdy concealed by a string of pretty dried leaves and rushes hanging down from around her neck.

'Sorry, I don't understand,' Kydd said, and smiled back.

She giggled, then laid her hand on her breast. 'Tamaha? she repeated, then touched Kydd's breast.

'Oh, well, it's Tom, Tom Kydd,' he said, conscious that she did not withdraw her hand.

‘Ah— Tonki? she whispered, and stroked his shirt curiously. He looked down on her black hair and caught the scent of her, a head-swimming blend of coconut oil and sandalwood. Kydd cleared his throat and looked around. The man under the palm was gone, and their conversation had attracted not the slightest bit of attention from the few still on the beach.

'Urn, Tamaha,' he began, and fell back on his previous piece of small-talk. 'This is your canoe?' he asked. She seemed puzzled, so he gestured meaningfully at the craft. Her face cleared, and she slid the canoe easily into the still water of the lagoon.

He stood in confusion. 'Ohe, Tonki!' she called, holding the canoe still and beckoning. Kydd found himself moving forward to her. Splashing in the bath-warm water, he climbed in and settled in the after part, laughing in embarrassment.

Tamaha joined in the laughter, and pushing off the outrigger, climbed lithely aboard. She plied her paddles easily and the canoe skimmed out over the water.

It glided to a lazy stop in the middle of the lagoon and Kydd looked down through the crystal water to a riot of colour not thirty feet down, a profusion of tumbling growths in an undulating underwater plain, the most beautiful landscape he had ever seen. He looked up to see Tamaha regarding him seriously over her shoulder. He grinned back, his reserve melting.

She lowered her head, then fumbled in the forward recesses of the canoe and came out with a palm-leaf bundle. Eyes mischievous, she lay back slowly until her head lay cradled between Kydd's thighs, and her bare arm arched over to offer him a dark-coloured piece of fruit. He accepted slowly and bit into it. Her eyes sparkled up at him and he felt desire mount in a betraying dull flush. He looked over the side again while he collected his thoughts, and she jerked upright again in mock exasperation.

Thoroughly discommoded, he studied the coral more closely, at which she stood up in the canoe. She looked at him once, then in a single breathtaking movement she dived into the lagoon. Amazed, Kydd gazed deep down into the water, seeing her brown body picking its way through the coral garden, her garments floating erotically free.

She found what she wanted and surfaced, water sparkling on her skin, her black hair clinging. It was a beautiful small white shell, empty and delicate, and as it took the air it became more and more intensely white. She stared at him anxiously; he accepted the gift reverently and without thinking held it first to his bosom and then kissed it before looking back into her eyes.