“But they would expect it. Oaths are sacred in their eyes.”

I felt sick with horror.

Tamarisk said: “Jaco must be watched all through the night as well as the day.”

“Most certainly he shall be,” said Karla.

“You must make sure no subversive suggestions are put before him,” insisted my father.

“Everything will be all right,” said Karla.

“I feel sure of it.”

She lifted her glass and we drank.

There was no point in going to bed, so we sat on, talking desultorily for a while, but I could not get out of my mind the memory of that scene, and it was useless to pretend to do so.

So we sat on. The dawn was not far away and all the time we could hear the beat of the drums.

The next morning Karla, Tamarisk and I went to the mission. As with us, the three of them had not gone to bed that last night. The Havers looked a little tired but Luke was as normal.

“What a night!” he cried.

“That old man in his war paint! What a sight! I thought at first the Ancient Britons had come to Casker’s in their woad.”

“Thank goodness they went away,” said John.

“At one time I thought they were going to force their way in and carry Jaco off.”

“Does he know about it?” asked Karla.

“Nothing,” said Muriel firmly.

“We thought it better that he should not.”

“I am sure you agree with that, Karla,” I said.

“We were saying that we did not want him to have contact with anyone till his leg is right.”

“That might be difficult,” said John.

“Not if we make it a rule, a part of the miraculous cure,” replied Luke.

“I fear Olam might do something to prevent the cure,” said Karla.

“Why?” asked John.

“Because he doesn’t want someone to be able to do what he can’t. “

“If all goes well, we can show them what we can do for Jaco and this will be a great boon to the mission,” declared Luke, his eyes shining.

“Yes,” agreed Karla.

“That would make a lot of difference. You will have proved to have something to offer, and you will win their respect.”

“But,” murmured Tamarisk, ‘suppose something went wrong? ” She was looking at Luke with frightened eyes.

“Then,” said Luke, “I shall go to old Olam and ask him which of his spears I should take into the jungte.”

“Don’t joke!” said Tamarisk almost angrily.

“Everything will be all right.” Muriel spoke with conviction.

“It’s a simple fracture and I shall ban visitors until I know all is well.”

During the week we had news from the mission every day. Karla cooked special dishes for Jaco, and the boy was having a most enjoyable time.

He could never have been so cosseted in his life. I was sure he was telling himself it was not such a bad thing, to break a leg. Regular meals at the mission and delicacies sent to him by Karla had an effect on him. His body filled out; his eyes were bright; he was clearly in a good state of health and enjoying the attention he received.

Tamarisk and I were there when the splints were removed. He was perfectly healed and there was no sign of a break. His limbs were stiff and he needed a few exercises which Muriel made him do-and there he was, none the worse for his fall.

On Karla’s advice we made an occasion of this. It was the way to fix it in everyone’s memory. A courteous message was sent to Olam. That evening at sundown, if he would be gracious enough to come to the mission house, the boy Jaco would be handed over to his people.

What a scene that was! Olam came, painted and be-feathered, and with him his followers. They carried spears and torches, as they had before.

First, on the advice of Karia, a gift was presented to Olam. It was a china figure of a tiger which Karia had produced. Olam accepted it graciously and presented Luke with a bone necklace on which was a carved pendant. This he placed round Luke’s neck.

Karia, Tamarisk and I, with the Havers, stood on the balcony and watched the presentation ceremony. Then, wearing the necklace, Luke came up the steps to the balcony, went into the house and came out, holding Jaco by the hand. Jaco, a little more plump than when they had last seen him, in radiantly good health and delighted to be at the centre of such attention, stood before them. Suddenly he leaped into the air, turned a somersault and ran out into the crowd.

There was a gasp of wonderment. Then there was silence as the men bowed their heads, lifting them after a few seconds to look at Luke, whom they believed to be the creator of the miracle. Poor Muriel, who had set the leg so expertly, was not considered by them.

She did not mind. I knew she had been very perturbed that Luke should have entered into such an agreement with one whom she thought of as a savage.

However, it had all worked out very well and we were deeply gratified.

We all went back to the mission hall, changed now by the vases of flowers which seemed to fill every possible space.

We sat down at the table and Luke began to laugh.

“It worked out wonderfully,” he said.

“Everyone played their parts so well, including young Jaco.”

“This is the best thing that could have happened for the mission,” I said.

Luke was smiling at Tamarisk.

“There are other good things,” he said.

Then we were all laughing, perhaps a little too heartily, because we had suffered some frightening moments since this affair had begun. It was in fact the laughter of relief.

I could not help wondering what would have happened if something had gone wrong and Jaco’s leg had not healed. The same thought must have occurred to Tamarisk, for she said very sternly to Luke: “You must not in future swear rash oaths to medicine men, witch doctors or whatever they call themselves.”

The drama of Jaco’s leg had temporarily dominated everything about us and when it was over the days seemed empty. I realized I had been away from home a long time. When the ferry called I would hope for mail, but it took so long to reach us that any news letters contained would be very much out of date.

I was with my father a great deal. He liked to sit outside the house where I could see the sea and the men with their goods squatting on their mats, their eyes on the horizon, watching for the ferries.

My father told me that when he had first come here he had not completely lost his sight. He had had a blurred view of the sea and shore, so it was easy for him to picture the scene.

One day he said: “You are not happy here, daughter.” He usually called me daughter. It was as though he were revelling in the relationship.

I replied: “You and Karia have been so good to me. You have done everything …”

“But we have not been able to do enough. Nor shall we ever be able to. Your heart is back in Harper’s Green. You know that as well as I do.”

I was silent.

“You must go back,” he went on.

“Nothing is ever resolved by running away.”

“You knew of this before I came,” I said.

“Aunt Sophie told you much about me.”

“Yes, I know. She never told me about the Barrow Wood incident. She no doubt thought that would have disturbed me too much. Sophie was always protective.”

“You should have gone back to her.”

He shook his head.

“No … not because I needed to be cared for. How could I have done that?”

“There is no need to ask yourself for reasons. She would have cared for you.”

“I know. But I could not do it.”

“She does not even know that you are blind.”

“No.”

“When I go back, do you mind if I tell her?”

“You must tell her. Tell her I am happy enough. Tell her that, although I cannot see, I have found much in life to live for. There are compensations from these afflictions. I can hear better than I ever did, I can distinguish footsteps, the inflections in voices. It amuses me to do that. Don’t let her pity me.”

“I won’t. I shall tell her that, in spite of being blind, you are not unhappy.”

“That is true. I could not ask for better care. Tell her about Karla.

She’ll understand. She knows me well. She knows in her heart that it would never have been right for us. I would never have conformed. I think you understand that now. “

“I think I do.”

“I have been a wandering rogue. I would never have settled until forced to as I am now. You have seen my life here. It is not bad, is it? The old man of the island.

No, that is Olam. But I am lord of all I survey, for I survey nothing.

That is life. Karia is right for me. She understands me. She is fond of me. We are alike in our ways. The moralist would say it is all wrong, but I have had a happy life. It isn’t fair, is it? Your poor mother! Such a good woman and such an unhappy one. “

“She settled her heart on the unimportant things in life. She mourned for the grandeur of the old days. That was what made her unhappy. It killed her in the end.”

My mind went back to that day when she was so angry because she was not to arrange the flowers. It was not even that she greatly wanted to; she needed to be acknowledged as the lady of the manor although she was not.

“Ah, you see,” he said.

“That is life, I suppose. We make our own way through it. What is right for one is not for another. Perhaps there is a lot of luck in it and I have been lucky. But here I am, blind, my careless youth behind me, and yet I have someone to care for me. Would you not say I am a lucky man?”

“Yes, I would, but perhaps you deserve your luck.”

He laughed aloud.

“That seems an odd sort of justice to me. I am as contented as I could be in the circumstances, spending the rest of my life in contemplation and living through the lives of those around me.

Perhaps it is not such a bad idea. Which brings me to you and your affairs. What are you going to do? “

“I have been thinking of little else.”

“I know.”

“I shall have to go back.”

He nodded.

“You must go. You love this man and you are capable of that true love, the faithful, everlasting sort. It’s the best, really. The other well, it is light, amusing, gratifying, exciting, but the lucky ones are those who find the true variety. I think you and your Crispin have it. Should you let all that slip through your fingers? I know I would not. But perhaps I am not a good example for you to follow. You love Crispin. You should be with him. You should not allow obstacles to stand in the way of true love.”

“Crispin is determined to find a way.”

“He will, and you are afraid of some side of his character which bothers you that secretive bit. Perhaps that is what makes him fascinating. After all, it is exciting to discover new depths in those around one. That is what makes new acquaintances so amusing. Perhaps some people grow tired of each other’s society because there are not enough surprises. You are still worried about the mysterious affair of the man in the shrubbery. You think Crispin holds some thing back from you. You suspect him of certain actions, perhaps, but whatever you think he might have done, you still love him, do you not? You have come here and learned that, whatever he has done, you cannot be happy without him. My dear daughter, that is enough. You love him.”

“So … you think that is enough?”

“We are talking of love … true love. It must prevail. It is the most important thing in the world.”

“So I must go home.”

“Go to your room now,” he said.

“Write those letters. Write to Crispin and Sophie and tell them that you are coming home.” His face saddened a little.

“I shall miss you. It will be dull without you. Karia will miss you. It has delighted her to have you here partly because of the pleasure it has given me, but she is fond of you and the merry Tamarisk too. Go and tell them that you are going home and will be with them as soon as possible.”

I put my arms about him and he held me very close to him.

“Tell Sophie that I am a blind old man,” he said.

“My adventuring days are over. Tell her about Casker’s. Tell her it suits me to be here away from all the old haunts.

Tell her I think of her every day and that she is the best I friend I ever had. ” I I left him then. I went to my room and I wrote the letters. They would be ready when the ferry called.

When I had written the letters I went to Tamarisk’s room, for I heard her come in as I was completing them.

I knew she had been to the mission.