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The Boat
1
Soaring towards it.
Only the sound of aircraft propellers breaks the silence over the remote mountain jungle at dawn.
Soaring..
January 1, 1937 is a clear sunny morning in the islands of Hawaii and they are flying downhill, weightlessly and low over a mountainous jungle canopy; lush, tropical, paradisiacal.
They drift over vertical cliffs sweeping down a thousand feet. Over a pristine white beach. Over clear shallow turquoise water.
Straight out towards the empty ocean horizon.
Flying fast, only ten feet above the translucent water.
Far out to sea.
In the journey that is our lives it is what we become along the way that matters. And all that we see and do and feel is what we become. We are made of all that we have known, all that we have loved. Even all that we have lost. For as we live our lives, our lives also live us.
In a dim bedroom an old woman opens a faded and creased book. Parchment hands opening a beloved novel and turning the yellowing pages to the first. An old woman's hands in a bed in a dim and distant room. She knows this book by heart.
Already in her mind's eye the old woman is speeding over the waves, miles and miles out to sea.
And it is not where we begin, but where we are headed that matters. It is what we dream.
Far out at sea there is the tiniest spot of something on the far horizon, something tiny and lost on a vast ocean.
It is what we dream that is the gift. It is what we dream our journey shall be that forms our very lives.
The old woman reads the opening words of the novel; ‘As a child she imagined that the tropics was where beauty must live.’
I am an old woman now but once it was not so.
On the sea horizon there is the form of a boat. A tiny wooden rowing boat drifting aimlessly on a formless ocean.
The old woman reads; ‘She came from a land where the snow fell from the sky like powder and piled up high on her hat.’
I am wise now but once it was also not so..
‘She came from a land where colors could not survive against the creeping grayness of everything that surrounded her.’
Out at sea it is dawn upon a tiny wooden rowboat, utterly lost on the ocean a
hundred miles from shore. Out at the horizon where there is no sign of life but everything
is alive.
In the boat two figures are lying completely still, a man and a woman. They are neither dirty nor disheveled, their evening wear is pressed and fine. They are lying face down and utterly still, their limbs awkwardly strewn. Death is upon them.
I am wise now and I understand that to refuse to live the adventure of our lives is the worst affront to God..
2
March, 1936. Some Miles Off Hawaii.
On the wooden deck of an old passenger steamer Nathan Sutherland adjusts the wide Panama hat he has been wearing daily since he first arrived in Los Angeles from
Paris almost a year before. He looks out to the distant horizon. In the haze he can make
out the faintest smear of an island beginning to appear, floating on the empty ocean. A sense of dread seeps through him.
This is where it will happen.. In a paradise of nature. It was always destined to be this way. From the beginning the end is always forming ahead of us..
She always loved the clear blue sky. The ocean so blue and formless. She loved the sacredness..
Nathan is leaning against the ship rail watching Molly Lawrence, an attractive, red-haired lesbian now approaching the end of her prime years. Across the fore deck, Molly is flirting madly with a pretty young woman who has never met a lesbian before and doesn’t realize she is meeting one now.
Nathan can see this is a seduction and he watches with amusement. The many years he has spent in bohemian Paris have made him hard to shock. He wishes it were not so, although at forty-two he considers it an indication of a life well-lived, a life drawing towards a definitive resolution.
As always Nathan is casually elegant in a loose linen suit, he always likes to dress this way, with a European tropical elegance. Like a British imperialist, he often says, laughing. Out looting the world, he adds when he is in a mood to offend an industrialist or shock a bourgeois.
Now he is watching for an opportunity to join Molly and her giggling young girl. As a writer he is always on the lookout for interesting company.
Across the deck Molly Lawrence laughs an easy laugh, her wide generous features curling sensuously. Molly is rich and hedonistic, among the tight Honolulu society in which she lives she is considered a scandal. And Molly loves nothing better than to scandalize.
Molly is aware that Nathan is watching her seduction, a handsome, individualistic man does not go unnoticed, but now it is too late to hold back, even though discretion in her romantic affairs is usually of the utmost importance here. But now that pretty Susan is almost seduced the moment must be forcefully seized. As soon as the illicit desire is revealed there must be soft kisses, otherwise the girl will run off, appalled by her own desire.
‘And that's why Susan,’ Molly says with a low chuckle, ‘Whenever a man promises he'll keep his eyes shut while you change your dress, before you remove anything of your clothing you should always help him keep his word by poking his eyes out with a sharp stick.’
Susan is titillated by such cavalier gossip, she has never in her life met such a bright and exciting woman as Molly Lawrence. Susan is a sheltered young provincial girl, barely more than twenty years old, and Molly is an unusually expressive woman.
‘Oh Molly no!’ she giggles flirtatiously, shocked to hear of a woman undressing before a strange man, imagining that a woman like Molly has done such a thing on frequent occasions.
While Molly admires Susan’s fresh youth, watching her pale throat stretching in delight as she throws her head back to laugh, arching her back as if with eroticism, a strange man arrives without warning and puts his arm around Susan's shoulder in a gesture of ownership. Molly starts in surprise, the man is perhaps fifteen years older than Susan and wearing a clergyman’s white collar and a cheap black suit.
Susan stiffens at his touch, Molly notices and files it away in her mind. She will not stiffen so at Molly’s touch.
‘Oh hello dear,’ Susan says, ‘I'd like you to meet Mrs. Margaret Lawrence. This is Alfred, my husband.’
Molly is stunned to discover there is a husband. She offers her hand, struggling to remain always gracious. ‘Pleased to meet you. Do call me Molly, only my lawyers and accountants call me Margaret.’ She says in dismay.
Reverend Alfred Patterson takes her hand and shakes it with a humorless sincerity that irritates Molly. Such an air of dullness pervades him that she feels a force sucking the life away from her.
‘Then you must call me Alfred,’ he says, ‘There's no need to be so formal if you're going to be part of my new flock.’
Molly laughs, ‘Well frankly, my being part of your flock seems rather doubtful, I must say Reverend.’
This lifeless man has destroyed my beautiful seduction. And if two sweetly giggling girls doesn’t please God more than this dead man, then I simply don’t know what.
Molly looks up and sees Nathan laughing as he watches them, she turns away and pointedly ignores him.
Across the deck, Nathan smiles quietly to himself at Molly's dismay. He is standing close by and she is unable to conceal the emotion on her face, her features betray her with their liveliness. He watches the drab church minister and the radiant lesbian who is sizing him up.
He wears a suit made for funerals, Nathan thinks. A man like a crow.
Even in the flower-scented tropics, this man caries the smell of death on him. Nathan imagines their lives. A well-meaning but ineffectual church minister. He is excited to be taking over his first real ministry with his innocent young bride. He is happy to be of service in the matter of civilizing the local natives, Polynesians and Chinese, Filipino and Japanese alike, he will civilize them all. Alfred is a master of emotional restraint, there is hardly enough life force in him to light a candle. His young wife instinctively knows this and already dreads the manner it will play out in the future as their life together reveals itself. She is only twenty-two years old but already she can sense the graying of her life..
Next to Alfred, Molly is a volcano of exuberance and charisma. Even though she does not yet realize it, Susan already longs for Molly to save her from the dullness that will be her life.
Nathan strolls casually across the deck towards them, no longer able to resist a closer look at this odd gathering.
‘Excuse me,’ he addresses Molly affably, ‘Does anyone know if we're expected to arrive in Honolulu before dark?’
Molly eyes him coldly, there have already been too many intrusions for her liking.
‘It seems highly likely unless the boat sinks rather soon.’
Nathan nods pleasantly, he has always appreciated spirited women over all others. ‘Ah I see.. Well, do let me know if it looks like it's going down. I'd like to get a drink or two in first.’
Molly laughs voluptuously, thawing immediately at the sign of a kindred spirit. Suddenly she offers her hand warmly to Nathan.
‘Molly Lawrence. And this is the Reverend Alfred Patterson and his lovely wife Susan.’
‘Nathan Sutherland.’
Alfred pauses at the name, ‘I say, you wouldn't be the writer Nathan Sutherland by any chance?’
‘I'm afraid so.’
Molly is impressed, delighted to meet someone interesting and perhaps amusing. ‘Well that would at least account for the unnatural curiosity.’
Alfred is so thrilled that it seems to Molly that Nathan must be a very famous writer. Nathan waits for Alfred to gush, he finds it remarkable the way they all say the same thing. It bores him now, the adulation, taking up his freedom and offering nothing in return.
‘I'm honored to make your acquaintance,’ Alfred gushes, ‘I've read all of your books. I do hope you'll be staying in the islands for long enough to join my wife and I for luncheon? I'd love to debate your remarks regarding the absence of God in Everything Sentient Rises Up To Conspire.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t be persuaded of His presence, Reverend,’ Nathan says deliberately,
‘Still, will you have lunch with us soon?’ says Alfred, imagining the glory of restoring such a famous atheist to the faith.
‘I'm expecting to be pretty busy researching the islands..’
Nathan has no intention of entering into a numbing and pointless debate, and least of all with a theologian, a man of deep and childish superstitions.
This is a man made for burying people, he thinks.
While Alfred is spellbound by Nathan, Molly smiles at Susan seductively, making her blush and cast her eyes shyly to the ground.
I could eat her up, thinks Molly.
‘I imagine your debating schedule must be quite full Mr. Sutherland?’ Molly says, deciding that Nathan may be worth the rescuing from dullness.
‘Yes it is. It seems that everyone loves a good controversy nowadays,’ he laughs.
‘Well I know I do,’ Molly says, laughing too.
Alfred doesn’t realize he is being gently rebuffed, ‘I don't mean immediately of course. Perhaps following our honeymoon?’ He gives Susan’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
Molly can’t believe her ears. ‘You're on your honeymoon?’ she blurts indiscreetly.
Nathan watches Molly, she can’t even begin to hide her dismay now. He smiles discreetly, Molly is going to make a very amusing acquaintance.
‘Alfred and I were married on Tuesday in San Francisco,’ says Susan guiltily, as if there is something shameful in it that must be hidden. A marriage without love.
It seems as if Molly might say something wildly inappropriate but Nathan comes to her aid, ‘And still together I see?’ he says, making Molly laugh again.
‘We boarded for Hawaii right afterwards,’ says Alfred proudly. ‘Three days of wedded bliss so far.’
Molly turns pleasantly to Susan, ‘Well they always say the first three days are the worst dear.’
He doesn’t deserve her..
Susan laughs, Alfred takes her arm possessively, sensing it is time to withdraw, even though he's much too naive to recognize Molly's pass at his wife.
‘I think we should rest now dear. It'll be a tiring afternoon once we arrive in Honolulu.’
Susan nods demurely, she flashes her eyes at Molly as they leave. Nathan realizes that Susan is so innocent that she doesn’t even realize she is flirting. Three days ago she was surely a virgin.
‘Good day Mr. Sutherland, Mrs. Lawrence,’ says Alfred, leading Susan away.
Nathan nods politely.
A dull sanctimonious man with an inexperienced child for a wife.. An imperialist of God out among the savages. This Molly will explode their lives.. I could certainly write that.
As soon as they go, Molly relaxes, ‘Would you like to join me for a drink in the lounge Mr. Sutherland? I could most definitely appreciate one after that.’
‘I'd be delighted. I’m on my honeymoon though, so please be gentle.’
Molly laughs with an extravagant warmth, she takes his arm, ‘I'm so glad you turned out to be so famous and charming.’
3
Below deck in the refreshment saloon, Molly signals the steward for refills, quickly drains her tall gin glass with a flourish and turns to Nathan purposefully. Molly takes her gossiping seriously.
‘And so Nathan, now we’re going to be friends, tell me what really brings you here to visit the islands. I don’t believe that vacation nonsense you have been spouting. Not for a minute’
Nathan laughs, after only a couple of drinks they are already relaxed and informal together, like old friends.
‘You don’t seem quite the tourist type to me.’
‘Well, I thought I might also take a break from civilization. What’s left of it. Perhaps even get some writing done.’
‘I can’t imagine anyone foolish enough to leave wonderful Paris for here.’
‘You’d be surprised how depressing Chancellor Hitler can become after a while. Sooner or later he’s going to set all Europe on fire.’
‘Oh Hitler Schmitler. They’d vote for him in a minute here in America if they thought he’d get rid of people like us. Like me at least.’
‘Only he would actually do it,’ says Nathan. ‘He’s not just politicking.’
‘Time will tell. So are you planning to write a book about us in Hawaii?’
‘No. I’m writing about a flower. A lost and forgotten black orchid said to have been presented to the explorer Captain James Cook by natives on his visit to Hawaii during a voyage of discovery of 1779. Apparently it once grew only in Hawaii and nowhere else on earth.. Of course I’ll have to try to find it first.’
‘Really? How dull. I shan’t be joining you tramping about in the jungle with a microscope. Why don’t you write about me instead? I’m much more interesting than a mere flower and I can assure you, no-one in these islands has discovered more hidden and secret orchids than I. You’d be quite amazed, I’d venture.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
Nathan already feels a pang of guilt for deceiving her so deliberately about his intentions, she is so spirited and pleasant a woman.
‘So tell me all about Paris back in the twenties,’ says Molly energetically, ‘I’ve often wished I’d gone over there myself to live. Instead of straying into respectability here.’
Nathan doesn’t know where to begin to reduce fifteen years of his life into a bohemian anecdote. He’s not sure if Molly would care to hear about the morphine and the currency of sex, the struggle to reach for literature and art, for progress. The relentless obsession of them all. The poetic dead and the disregarded dying, the desperation of creation and squalor which shrouded them all. He remembers how they danced and laughed and died there. Few of them emerged in glory as he did, but all of them lived a life worth living, and all of them were his friends.
Nathan searches inside himself, feeling cheered by the warmth of his youthful memories, ‘I was just a young man only a few years out of Harvard then. I got a wonderful lucky break when Gertrude Stein introduced me into her circle. She loved to introduce the new young men around. She was great friends with people like Picasso, the painter, who is a very odd and intense man, hard to get to know. Her star protege, Ernest Hemingway, on the other hand, is a loudmouth and a boaster who wanted to fight everyone all the time.’
‘An obvious homosexual on the run,’ Molly interrupts. ‘No-one is that manly.
Recently I heard tell in San Francisco, from a rather well known theater actress, that he possesses an abnormally small penis.’
Molly nods conspiratorially and waits for Nathan to confirm the rumor, she loves to gossip more than anything. ‘She has a friend who had the questionable pleasure of seeing it once. In as much as that would be possible.’
Nathan doesn’t respond, he has heard this same rumor before in Paris, but it’s an evil rumor, even when told about a bad man who probably deserves it.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ he says finally.
Molly is satisfied now and brightens, ‘Apparently he’s presently off in darkest Africa biting lions on the throat, I read it in a magazine. Well, for the love of God, no-one is that masculine unless they have something to hide. Believe me, we know our own. Now don’t tease and do tell me about the big dykes. I hear they are walking out openly together on the street?’
‘Yes, more or less.’
‘Oh my,’ says Molly and Nathan hears the longing hidden inside her.
‘And Gertrude Stein, what is she like? Is she very handsome?’
Nathan laughs, Molly is as unaffectedly curious as a child, ‘I swear she had a better growing mustache than I did back then.’
‘Oh I love a lady with a nice mustache!’ Molly exclaims enthusiastically.
Nathan laughs, ‘Unfortunately she had one of those ones that curls up at the ends like a musketeer’s.’
Molly giggles and empties another drink, ‘Oh I'm so glad you've come to liven things up in Honolulu. Nobody is more boring than island society people. Their
missionary forefathers came here a hundred years ago with a whale bone stuck in their
tails, if you'll pardon the expression. An entire century has passed and they still can't get it out.’
Nathan laughs, ‘Now that's the kind of colorful local research I could use for a new book.’
An energetic fifteen year old girl suddenly rushes up and plunks herself down petulantly beside Molly, taking Nathan by surprise.
‘Oh Molly I'm so bored! I shan't survive if we don't get there soon.’
Molly pats her leg, ‘Well darling you should know better than to travel with a great aunt while you're still too young to drink alcohol.’
‘May I then?’
‘No,’ Molly says severely, making Celia pout..
Celia Ellis is the only daughter of the islands’ leading family, the closest thing that island society has to a princess. She is a cheerful teenager fighting a constant battle between her excess energy and her lack of ideas on how to dispose of it.
Molly pats leg, ‘Say hello to Mr. Sutherland, he's a famous writer come to visit us.’
Celia is absolutely thrilled to meet someone famous, ‘Oh how exciting! What are some of the books you've written Mr. Sutherland? Might I have read them?’
‘Well they're not really for children,’ Nathan says, innocently delivering a fatal insult.
‘I'm not a child Mr. Sutherland,’ Celia says, piqued, ‘You must surely be mistaken?’
Nathan backs down diplomatically, ‘Of course not, I meant previously.. That you may be unfamiliar with my books since you were formerly a child, when they were mainly written, but obviously are no longer.. Alas.’
Celia is satisfied, she smiles mischievously at Nathan, he is handsome and now she's flirting.
‘I see. Are you here on vacation Mr. Sutherland?’
‘You may call me Nathan. Miss..?’
Celia is thrilled to be approached as an adult for once, ‘Ellis. You may call me Celia.. Nathan.’
Molly rolls her eyes at Celia, she flirts like a child.
‘Calm down Celia. Nathan's come to find a lost black orchid which has been misplaced and forgotten by we primitive islanders.’
‘How wonderful! Is this really true? Do tell me!’ Celia is bursting with enthusiasm for the project, for life itself it seems to Nathan.
Nathan lies easily, ‘Well, in a manner of speaking. I'm primarily here to research a novel and perhaps to investigate the other thing. The orchid.’
Celia is beside herself with the glamor of it all, ‘I think that's just peachy! I can’t tell you how much I hope you find it. I shall keep my eyes peeled for any sight of it’
Without warning she turns earnestly to Molly,‘Claire Saxon-Long's on board Molly. She's been hiding in her cabin since we left, but I saw her strolling on deck this morning.’
‘Probably she was out looking for sailors,’ Molly says icily.
Celia laughs wildly at the thrill of adult gossip, she turns to Nathan and whispers, ‘Claire Saxon-Long is a t-r-a-m-p,’ spelling it out, as if the word dare not be spoken aloud.
Molly gently reigns her in, ‘Celia please behave. Nathan is a gentleman, you’ll shock him if you speak like a common ruffian. Why don't you ask your father if he has a charming little house for Nathan to stay in? She turns to Nathan, ‘Celia's family own most of Oahu.’
‘We do not! The Goodmans own just as much as we do.’
‘Ask your father and then telephone Nathan at the Royal Hotel dear.’
Molly turns to Nathan, ‘Without help it's very hard to find somewhere decent to live in town. Since certain people own most everything.’
Celia makes a rude face at Molly, the child in her suddenly rising, ‘I'm sure he'll have something suitable for a famous writer who has come to visit us.. Oh look here comes Claire now!’
They both watch coldly as Claire Saxon-Long, a sharp-featured Englishwoman in her mid-thirties, haughtily crosses the lounge and passes nearby. She nods curtly towards Molly and turns away immediately, as if even the polite greeting has been distasteful.
Molly and Celia both nod politely in return, they are both deeply ingrained with the
rules of island society and to cut anyone without a very good reason is unthinkable.
They watch Claire walk across the lounge, taking purposeful steps in her well cut clothes.
‘Oh no!’ Celia wails, ‘She's going to sit with Aunt Cordelia.. Oh dagnabbit!’
Across the lounge, Claire nods a dignified hello to an elegant seventy year old grand dame, as if paying her homage. Aunt Cordelia nods in return and grandly motions her to join her at her table.
Molly looks depressed, she empties another tall gin glass, ‘Drink up Nathan. We're back among them and I'm almost sober again.’
4
In a limousine on the bustling dock, Sara Van Meer sits waiting in bored silence with her husband of eighteen years. The sweet heavy air nestles against her damp skin, beside her Leo Van Meer adjusts his weight in the seat with a low groan.
He is becoming an old man, thinks Sara. He is almost sixty now.
Sara is not old. Although she is no longer young she is still vital and resilient, still in her early thirties. In her very prime she believes. Poised and self-contained she knows, reserved, discreet and independent she might say aloud at a dinner table if strongly pressed to describe herself. But only using modest and carefully chosen words.
She watches the activity on the small Honolulu dock, now crowded with people waiting excitedly on the twice-weekly steamship arrival. Japanese and Filipino workmen carry heavy white sugar sacks and prepare crates of bananas and pineapples for loading. Crowds of Chinese wait noisily for relatives, crouched down on their haunches and chattering madly.
Sara and Leo are waiting for the ship to arrive. Sara secretly suspects the truth of why they are there, that Leo’s mistress is on board the steamer returning from San Francisco. Sara knows she has been away there and is due to return. After all these years, Sara knows Leo by his demeanor and he was unusually restless this morning as they drove into Honolulu town, from their sugar plantation in the island hills beyond.
But Sara must play out her hand and show no awareness of his infidelity. For so it is with society wives, always she must show forbearance. She must turn a blind eye, she knows this is what is expected of her.
Leo stirs uncomfortably in his suit and tie, even in this he exudes the arrogant entitlement that comes with inherited wealth. He is a rigid colonialist and will never allow himself to be seen out dressed in a casual manner. Leo believes it is not good for the natives to see their rulers in disarray, that the natives must not get the idea that they are like them.
‘Honestly,’ Leo says, ‘I'm beginning to wish I'd never ordered the dashed tractor now. Coming all the way down here again and again to meet the dashed steamboat. I'm going to cancel it.’
Sara knows the tractor will not be on this boat any more than Leo’s previous unscheduled trips into town have involved him meeting the steamer to collect it. When there is a tractor truly arriving, Leo will talk of tractors.
‘We need it Leo, just be patient. The old tractor is worn and we must have a tractor for the planting, so there's nothing else to do.’
Sara’s voice holds the slightest trace of accent still remaining from her long ago life as a girl in Europe. An untroubled life in Amsterdam as the well-bred daughter of a Dutch sugar importer. All so long ago now that she sometimes envisions it as having taken place inside a painting by a seventeenth century Dutch master such as she has seen in books. Nevertheless her Europeanness has formed her, she is not like the others in their small island society and she is always discreetly aware of this, always secretly proud if it.
I am not like them. There is something deep inside us which once set by our origins, can never be changed. I will never be one of them.
‘I thought I might stay on here in town tonight,’ says Leo, ‘I have some business to attend to. With the Plantation Club committee. You take the car back up to the farm and I'll see you back here for the dance on Saturday.’
So she is certainly on the boat, Sara thinks.
She looks out the car window to conceal her face from him in case it betrays her knowledge.
Sara sighs, ‘But that's two whole days. There are things to be done at the farm. Your duties, the payroll.. And the new fencing needs to go up.’
‘You take care of it for me,’ Leo says, ‘Lang'll get the fence up for you if you show him where to put it.’
‘And the field hands want to talk about a union again.’
‘They're not getting any union and that's that. Who do they think they are?’ Leo says dismissively.
At last the steamship appears around the headland which shelters the harbor. Its worn bright colors cast a tired gaiety in the hard sunlight.
‘Ah,’ says Leo, ‘Here she comes. Why don't you just run along right now? You don't have to wait for the boat docking. I'll get a lift to town with Bradley.’
Leo quickly rises and gets out the car before Sara can object. He can hardly conceal his anticipation.
‘Take Mrs. Van Meer to the dress shop right away.’
The liveried Japanese driver nods and starts the car immediately. Leo pats Sara on the knee.
‘I'll be at the Royal Hotel if you need me. Bring my good tuxedo for me to wear on Saturday.’
Before Sara can respond, Leo closes the door and motions the driver to drive off. Leo is a man who stifles the spirit, thinks Sara.
‘Go around by the Palace then come right back down to the docks please,’ Sara instructs.
‘Yes ma’am,’ says the driver.
5
After the ship docks Nathan and Molly have gathered their suitcases and are edging slowly together towards the ship gangway. Molly enthusiastically scans the crowded dock below, as if she expects to see familiar faces. Beside her, Nathan is casually admiring two gaudily dressed whores who press in behind them in the disembarking crowd.
Nathan smiles at the women and tips his hat to them in appreciation of their simple availability, which he has always considered a winning quality in a woman. The women smile seductively back at him, recognizing a good customer.
Molly is oblivious to the discreet exchange between Nathan and the whores, ‘I don't see my car,’ she says, ‘Oh there's Sara!’ She waves madly at Sara’s car parked at the rear of the dock, out of the way behind the crowd.
Sara is carefully scanning the ship from the back seat of her car. Finally she spots Claire Saxon-Long at the ship rail, waving excitedly. She follows the line of Claire's sight, Leo is standing on the dock waving affectionately back up to her.
Sara watches in silence, although she has known of their affair for some time, she has never seen them this intimately together. She is surprised by Leo’s warmth, she doubts she has ever seen such fondness showing in him, not even on their wedding day.
On the dockside Molly and Nathan are making their way through the crowds. Just ahead of them, Celia is rushing up to hug her father, an aristocratic man waiting beside a sleek and perfectly shiny Bugatti roadster, while a crisply liveried white chauffeur holds the door open for them both. Nathan immediately recognizes Bradley Ellis as a man who knows power and wears it easily. He has seen many men with the same self-important carriage, in the industrialist fathers of fellow students at Harvard, and again later at Oxford, in the aristocrats of England.
As Molly searches the crowd for her car, Nathan again notices the two whores from the ship. They are meeting a tall handsome man in dark sunglasses who casually raises his thin bamboo cane to them in greeting. He is very well dressed in a light linen suit, too well dressed for the subtle air of danger which he exudes.
Nathan’s eye catches the man’s, for a moment they coldly size each other up until Molly tugs on his arm, distracting him as she points at Sara’s car.
‘Who is that man, with the cane?’ Nathan asks her.
Molly looks, ‘Oh that’s Roberts.. James Roberts I think. He owns a disreputable bar in Chinatown where the men sometimes go without we women, to gamble and who knows what else.’
A procurer, thinks Nathan. For the rich of the island.
Molly pulls on his arm, ‘Come with me. Sara can drop you at the hotel, I'm sure it'll be no trouble.’
Nathan doesn’t want to meet anybody, he doesn’t want to be polite, he wants to be alone and absorb this new town of Honolulu with its smiling whores and elegant pimps and its tropical air thickly scented with lust.
‘No thank you. I'm in the mood for a walk. They'll deliver my luggage to the hotel.’
‘Be sure and don’t don't get your throat cut by ruffians. Our Chinatown is famous for it.’
Nathan laughs, ‘That's the only reason I'm going.’
Molly offers her hand, ‘When you register at the Royal make sure you tell them I sent you and that you want the islanders' wing instead of the frightful tourist rooms. Suppose I was to drop by for a cocktail in a day or two, would that be alright?’
‘That would be fine. Come and join me for dinner.’
‘Yes. I'll introduce you to some of the right people.’
Molly suddenly notices Sara's car moving off, she hails it. ‘Sara! Sara! Hold on!’ Molly rushes excitedly over towards Sara, turning back as she goes.
‘I must go!’
Nathan waves goodbye and tips his hat.
From the rear seat of her limousine, Sara watches Nathan settle his hat to a jaunty angle and stroll off with an appealing ease. Before she can decide her opinion on the elegant man, Molly rushes up and clambers into he car beside her.
‘Sara! Thank heaven you're here. My car hasn't turned up. That damn girl Lucy, I wired her I was coming. Can you drop me?’
‘Of course,’ Sara says affectionately, she always loves the exuberance that comes spilling out of Molly, in laughter or song or sometimes in tears.
‘I wasn't expecting you back until the Saturday boat. I'm only here with Leo by chance. I was, I mean.’
Molly closes the door and kisses Sara warmly on the cheek. How she adores Sara, her poise and her tranquil beauty that reminds her of a river slowly passing by.
Sara wants to hear all Molly’s gossip, after a month in San Francisco there will surely be plenty to amuse and shock.
‘Who was that man you were with? Do I know him?’ Sara asks, trying to spot Nathan again out on the crowded dock.
Molly laughs, ‘Oh you'd better keep well away from that one sweetie. I’m considering granting him my favors myself.’
Sara laughs happily, ‘I don’t think you’d dream of it.’
Molly pushes in beside her on the seat. Sara loves to be in Molly’s company, she is the only one on the island who can make her feel alive. The only one in their small society with any real warmth to offer.
As Sara's car slowly moves through the crowds, Molly spots Susan sitting waiting in an old taxi while Reverend Alfred supervises the driver tying up their luggage on the roof. When they pass close by the taxi, Susan's eyes seductively meet Molly's, she giggles at Molly in exhilaration.
‘Here comes love, ’ Molly laughs.
Sara laughs too, lifted by Molly’s good humor, ‘Oh not again Molly!’
‘It’s always welcome Sara, you know that.’
Sara laughs, ‘So tell me about your trip then!’ Sara implores her, hungry for fresh gossip after so long on the remote plantation with only the harsh company of men, of Leo and their plantation field hands who must be carefully controlled.
6
When Sara’s limousine glides out of the port on to the wide palm-lined boulevard of the town, Molly leans back in her seat, relaxing.
‘That bitch Claire Saxon-Long was on the boat.’
‘I don't want to talk about it,’ Sara says firmly. There is nothing to say about it. Her husband is an adulterer, and with a woman Sara despises.
‘Well you're a big fool.’
‘Tell me about San Francisco.’
Molly lets it go, there is nothing to be said except that Claire is stealing Sara’s husband away and it is a great pity.
Molly brightens, ‘San Francisco was marvelous. I bought beautiful dresses. I bought you a lovely swimsuit, a two piece! Just like in the magazines. You’ll look so attractive nobody will be able to bear it.’
Sara laughs, ‘Leo won't stand for it.’
‘To hell with Leo, I'm tired of swimming at the beach with you dressed like an old lady.’
‘So what did you do in San Francisco?’
‘You really should have come with me. Instead of riding your horse around in that damn sugar cane night and day. You’re like a field hand. On your own property.’
Sara deliberately changes the subject, ‘Did you go to the theater at all?’
‘Oh yes. That's where all the nice ladies are so, believe me, I went lots and lots. And I never had so much lovely kissing in all my life.’
Sara laughs, ‘I find that hard to believe.’ She knows of no-one who spends more time kissing or dreaming of it than Molly.
‘Oh Sara it was so wonderful just being able to be myself, not having to hide it all the time. I’ve decided I’m just not going to do it any more.’
‘Do what?’
‘Hide it. My.. taste.. My good taste..’ Molly lowers her voice, ‘In lovely girls.’
Sara is shocked, this is simply unthinkable, to behave with anything but the utmost
discretion in such a matter. Molly is barely tolerated in society as it is.
‘You must surely be joking?’
‘No. It's a present to myself for my thirty-fifth birthday.’
‘Did you fall on your silly head? Honolulu is not San Francisco. Nobody here will stand for it.’
Molly pouts, ‘Well I'm not asking their permission.’
Sara is alarmed, ‘Don't do this. This is something you'll deeply regret.’
‘Everyone already knows anyway.’
‘Yes I imagine so. But you must never throw it in their faces. You must be discreet. You must allow them to pretend not to see it. Oh you really do love trouble don't you?’
Molly laughs pleasantly, ‘Why don't you come and stay over at my house tonight? I'll tell you all about my trip and the new famous writer from the boat too.’
Sara is tempted, life is lonely on the plantation with little to do but work and read, and Molly is never dull company. ‘Well, Leo’s at the Royal.. But only if you promise me there'll be no funny business.’
‘Sweetie there's never any funny business,’ Molly looks at Sara, arching her brow, challenging her. ‘They don't think I'm that unattractive in San Francisco you know..’
Sara is so beautiful that Molly feels she would swoon if she could ever kiss her.
Sara laughs but says nothing. She isn’t offended, Molly’s occasional passes have never been a problem between them, they’re always easily enough diverted.
Molly turns away to look out the car window, concealing a flash of hurt on her face. For an endlessly long time Molly has been deeply in love with Sara and it is painful.
7
Oh bustling Hotel Street in Chinatown, Nathan has his wide-brimmed straw hat jauntily raked as he strolls along with a spring in his step. Looking around the busy streets he’s feeling damn good. All around worn whores beckon, drunken sailors squabble, young soldiers laugh and yell out with exuberance, as if the entire street is drunk and mad with sheer lust for living. Street corner pimps discreetly whisper offers of women and fine opium. Red neon flashes on clip joints and the faded paint of run down bars, on pool halls and back room gambling clubs with bulky doormen wearing brightly blazing Hawaiian shirts.
Nathan thinks the street is glorious with the sleaze and shabbiness that surrounds military bases all around the world. He has always adored the raw edge of life, the arenas where people expose what is truly in their nature. Where civilization no longer provides cover. As he passes an alley, an old Chinese man opens his jacket and discreetly shows him a large revolver.
‘You want buy? Only eighteen dolla. ’
Nathan laughs, he knows this seedy decadence and he's perfectly comfortable here.
‘What makes you think I want a gun?’
‘You need gun mista. I know.’
Nathan is startled by the man’s simple certainty.
Maybe that’s not such a bad idea..
‘You want girl too instead? I got top cutie wahine! Special price! No Chinese girl, Hawaii girl.’
Nathan shakes his head and strolls on. It is not time for women. Up ahead he spots a bicycle rickshaw at the curb. He climbs into the sedan and the old Chinese driver pedals off.
‘Royal Hawaiian Hotel please.’
Nathan slides comfortably down into the smoothly worn leather seat and tips the brim of his straw hat to shade his eyes from the beautiful glare.
Copyright Lee Vidor, 2010. All rights reserved.
280 pages, $3-99 ebook
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