Of One-Seven-Three

Magazine Section

The Menace That Lies East

A Memory

By Jps

riEORGE,” I said, laying down IJ a copy of the November PIM, just to hand, “what do you ake of this Longitude 173 East ctor in the distribution of malaria? see they’re doing a little research i it.”

My host, along the verandah, zed dreamily out across the reefs. was the noon siesta on one of ji’s outer islands. He was silent long I suspected he hadn’t heard e. Then he turned and gazed at wall map of the Pacific.

“H’m! By Gad, that is peculiar, coincides almost exactly,” he re arked, finally. “The other prob n, I mean,” he added, as an ter-thought. Then, noting that I is floundering, he continued: “Look at the map, man! Doesn’t occur to you that the experts e grappling with only half the oblem?”

“How come, George?”

“Man-alive,” said George, “look the map! To the west of 173 s’re battling with malaria. To the st of it the White Man—the igle man, anyway—has another oblem on his hands, just as de bating. I refer to the Brown oman! Why, west of 173, old boy, u’ll admit the problem’s practic y non-existent. Yes, 173 is de dtely the glamour line—with the •ay exception, of course!” [ stared speculatively at my com mon. George, remarkably hand ne at 50, was an ex-seafarer, and d the reputation of being a bit a rake, in his day. That was fore he came to manage this ace out in the Lau.

“Well, ask any seaman,” said Jorge, observing my glance. “West the glamour line expenses are actically nil under the ‘Brown omen’ heading. East of it ill, I wish I had half of it now!”

'Maybe you’ve got something 2re, George,” I remarked. “Though tether there’s any co-relation with e anopheles mosquito is another int altogether. Could it be more an a coincidence, d’you think?” ‘Coincidence or not, I’ve certainly t something,” George observed, ietly—and I noticed a far-away »k in his eye. His mind wasn’t in e Lau Group, at the moment, yo beers later he got going.

IHIS is a much bigger economic problem that you seem to re alise (said George). It probably as into millions. Then, again, ere’s another aspect altogether, irnmit, if it wasn’t for the happy cumstance that they have short

memories hereabout I doubt whether I could hold my head up in, say, Pago Pago to-day.

It’s not exactly a story that I want to shout around. But it’ll give you an idea of what I mean.

You'll remember I was in the old SS. Bmatang a year or two back. Well, we dropped into Pago

Pa Jf9

After Tahiti and Hawaii, if ever a place has had a Publicity build-

V Vi

Pago Pago So naturally the chaps were expecting something. I admit I was rather carried away myself.

We weren’t alongside the wharf an hour when one of the Mates passed the word that he had everything jacked up for what looked like a very pleasant South Seas evening. There was a foreman on the engine job. Very nice bloke, it seemed. He’d fix up a little party —yes, some really nice girls, cousins of his, or something. Be ready by 7 pm. He’d send a taxi for us.

Looked like a good cheap evening —what with the problem of getting dollars and all that.

The taxi was there on the dot.

Yes, and a girl apiece. Good lookers, too, believe me!

We piled into the taxi—a big American bus—and the girls suggested we take a moonlight run out to Tafuna. There were several cartons of American beer in the

boot. This host of ours, whoever he was, had thought of everything.

We understood that the taxi driver was also a cousin of his—so prob ably he’d not charge the normal rates. Still, damn nice of him to look after a bunch of strangers.

There was a lot of skylarking and the beer, of course, went down steadily. But —let’s admit it—we were getting a little restive. Maybe these girls were too nice. Progress was slower than we’d figured—for a place with a build-up like Pago.

Then one of the girls suggested we head for her home —and supper —and we moved off in the taxi.

Along the road, we pulled up out side a store. It was now close on midnight, but the storekeeper was another cousin of the organiser— so naturally he wouldn’t mind assisting us. It seemed we had to pick up a little canned goods for the supper.

With the lights on, the girls in dicated various articles on the well-stocked shelves —a pile of goods being placed on the counter in front of each lady. Seemed to be doing a lot of unnecessary shopping, too, for that hour of night—stuff like soap, a yard or two of lava lava material, perfume, etc—and large quantities of canned foods.

About that time we began to wake up. The respective piles of goods completed, a significant silence came over the store. Each girl smiled and looked her man over—and the storekeeper looked us all over. Then it hit us. We were to pay.

My heap, I remember, ran into around fifteen dollars.

We paid like lambs, got this junk into the back of the car, and moved off. The fellows were less happy

than they had been. Fifteen bucks seemed a little high for the South Sea Islands. Never mind! The night was young. < ? i^ reS a nt t l wo t stoAld i S U amoan P me

S chonlderld our burdens and

a5 U r\irsSr over

steenTne wome/and children g From m< ano^er CPP carton ™of

AmerT?an bee? annlared

Amencan beer appearea.

Supper was to be entirely liquid it seemed. The stores were being packed away in large cases. It was some time since the last ship had called; but, looking back now, I recall that there was still a big stockpfie of stores in the larder. Still— the night was yet young.

Then an old man on a mat, through the thin floor just above our heads, began to speak quietly in Samoan. I didn’t take much notice of him at first—until I noticed that the girls had frozen to dead silence, and were looking at one another. Then I started to remember what Samoan I knew— enonSh waSn t much ’ But was , , . , Get those pa alangi dogs from under this roof”—either that, or the girls would never enter the house again. Take them for all they

them kto 3 tlf Cse-n™

Get them outside—anvwherel-tn hell with them. Hadn’t the eirls any shame? Didn’t they know what theee do f s were after? Veil, then!

Levs get to We moved outside, the girls folv°eYrcooSor a Sgo P Pag e o very cool tor Pago Pago.

Across the yard the taxi driver was Sleeping in his car.

Well—what’s wrong hnvs9 wen wnats wrong, boys.

Nothing—nothing at all—we just wanted to get back to the ship.

That was impossible, it seemed.

There was a strict curfew from midnight until dawn. Navy base, and

all that. No, we’d have to stick around till morning—but he’d fix us with some blankets. The girls had somehow disappeared.

“Look,”' said George. “Have you ever slept on the ground in Samoa?

The whole blessed place is lava rocks— then, of course, the rain sets in an y time after midnight. It was on time! Man-what a night what agony! We were all dead tired, and soaked through by dawn, w hen the dejected caravan moved off for the waterfront, “Foreign port, and all that, you know. No use causing any trouble, We go t o ut of the car and said to the driver , ‘ We ii—tell us the worst—how much?’ Evidently he was used to some protests. Seemed sort of taken aback for the moment —but made a quick recovery, “‘Let’s see now, fellers—that’s a hundred and twenty bucks for the car—with waitin’ time, y’see—and then the beer. Total of one forty, Fine! Hope to take you out again SO me night. Nice bunch a’guys.’ ”

“Somehow we just raised the wind to cover expenses—by getting an advance against wages, “After that” Georo-e cnnelnded JS’ c f£ c i uded ; ginned 1 P ?k<f' The Second '\late

tooklfto heart properiy SpenYaU

wandering between the chart house—checking to see if we really Pag ,9 Pag S~ a F l v? his , cabin ’ n the Se& literature utterl y “T heard he was nut a wav later the disillusionment seemed to get him—like a little kid being told there was no Santa Claus. (IT , . . „ But man! for the South Seas lt wos an expensive lesson in morality.

Thank the Lord, I’m happily married and settled down, now.

Still, for the sake of other blokes, I think the problem ought to be looked into, don’t you? Cheers!”