The Mystery of the Venus Island Fetish (27 page)

Archie, meanwhile, had accepted Beatrice at her word. He and Beatrice should be nothing
but the best of friends. On other fronts, however, his sense of perplexity was increasing.
Griffon had said nothing about the fight. Had Mordant not told him? Perhaps Mordant
had his own reasons for not spreading the news. When they passed in the corridor,
Mordant now avoided Archie's gaze, which gave the idea some credence, Archie thought.

Despite these developments, Archie was half-expecting each day to be his last at
the museum, anticipating that he'd be met at the entrance by a couple of policemen
with handcuffs, to be arrested for assault. It was partly this fear that led to his
dithering
over the fetish. He really needed to examine it again. But how could he
do that without alerting Griffon?

His ruminations were temporarily eclipsed when he picked up the phone in the anthropology
department. It was a shipping clerk from Burns Philp.

‘A group of savages has arrived on one of our steamers, sir, and they have a letter
saying that you'll be responsible for them while they're in Sydney.'

Archie had quite forgotten that he'd written to the islanders, care of a missionary,
requesting a dance troupe to perform at the launch of the new gallery. He grabbed
his hat and dashed out the door. None of the islanders spoke English, or had ever
left their homeland before. He'd been expecting advance notice of their arrival,
but something must have gone wrong. They'd be as helpless as newborn babes. As he
dashed down Macquarie Street it dawned on him that looking after them would be a
full-time job.

Archie found the Venusians huddled on a bench in the shipping clerk's office. There
were six: Uncle Sangoma, Cletus and his brother Polycarp, and their cousins Pius,
Arenga and Barup. All except Polycarp, who had managed to cadge a blanket, were wearing
nothing but bark loincloths. Sangoma sat impassively, a little distance from the
others. A great boar's tusk pierced his nasal septum, and the head of a rhinoceros
beetle ornamented his nose-tip. Horizontal scars running across his muscular chest
marked him as an tribal leader, and in his left hand he grasped the conch shell trumpet
of an island big man.

The younger boys and men, in contrast, looked miserable. Arenga and Barup, who must
have been barely fourteen, were
shivering, and sat with their arms wrapped around
their chests. Archie noticed that Polycarp, wrapped in his blanket, wore a pencil,
rather than a boar's tusk, in his nose piercing.

‘Uncle, brothers! Welcome to my village,' Archie said in Venusian.

Instantly, the islanders became as happy as condemned men who've received a pardon.
There was a long round of ecstatic hugs.

‘Polycarp, why are you wearing that pencil through your nose?' asked Archie.

‘A sailor swapped it, and this blanket, for my boar's tusk. I thought I might learn
to write with it.'

‘That could take some time—like you teaching me to climb a coconut tree.' The group
laughed. ‘Oh well, I suppose that we can get you a new tusk, from the collection.
For the dance, I mean. And what happened to Father Clement? I'd arranged for him
to accompany you—and send advance notice of your arrival.'

‘Couldn't come,' Sangoma said, as he mimed a drunk man swigging from a bottle. Archie
had heard the rumours, and mentally ticked himself off for trusting the missionary.

‘Have you eaten?'

‘Not a thing, for days,' said Sangoma. ‘That stuff they call bully beef stinks. Cletus
reckons it's preserved human flesh!'

‘Well, the first thing to do is to get you a good feed. There's a cafe nearby that
does the best steak and chips in Sydney,' Archie said, catching himself. ‘Steak and
chips', he realised, meant nothing to his friends.

The islanders clung to Archie's side like leeches as they walked
up George Street.
A passing lorry caused Cletus practically to leap into his arms. ‘It's all right,'
Archie kept repeating, but the sights, sounds and smells of the city were overwhelming
for the islanders, as were the stares of the crowds.

They finally reached the cafe, and they calmed a little. They watched Archie carefully
as he wielded his knife and fork, then tried valiantly to eat with the implements
themselves, but to no avail. In frustration, Uncle Sangoma picked up his steak in
his hands, and began chewing on it. Cletus, Polycarp and the others soon followed.
The pretty waitress serving them fled into the kitchen, and moments later a burly
cook with a thick black moustache emerged. ‘What do you fricking cannibals think
you're doing?' he thundered.

Archie decided that the best form of defence was attack.

‘Look here! These fellows are members of the Tongan royal family, and they're in
Sydney on an official visit. They're about to see the governor, and I'm sure you
wouldn't want any trouble from his chargé d'affaires.'

The cook backed off. ‘Well, just eat and get on your bloody way as quick as you can.'

Soon the T-bones were picked so clean they almost glowed, and Archie decided to take
the islanders to the relative quiet of the museum. The domain was almost deserted,
and he managed to get them there without incident. At the museum he installed the
islanders in the guard room, under the watchful eye of Jeevons, and went to see Dryandra
Stritchley about an allowance to cover their expenses. Then he walked to the hostel
across the road and secured rooms in a boarding house. They were basic, to say the
least, but the budget would extend no further.

By the time he'd gone to the second-hand clothing shop and bought half-a-dozen ex-military
greatcoats, Archie knew that he couldn't look after the islanders alone. So he turned
to Beatrice. She was excited by the prospect of meeting the exotic visitors, but
was alarmed for their safety.

‘What if Griffon wants to add them to his collection?' she asked in horror.

‘I'd rather die than see harm come to my family,' Archie replied. ‘I'll defend them
with my life.'

Reassured, Beatrice helped Archie sketch out a rough plan. She felt certain that
they would love to see where European goods came from. She promised to speak to a
dressmaker she knew and an uncle who worked at the Eveleigh rail yards, to see if
visits could be arranged. And she was fairly sure that Sir Halward Edmonds would
be willing to show them his refrigerator factory as well as Taronga zoo, where he
was director. Archie, on the other hand, felt they might enjoy a visit to David Jones,
and the new mouse-trap factory in Mascot.

Later that morning Archie introduced Beatrice to Uncle Sangoma.

‘This is your wife?' Sangoma asked.

‘No, Uncle.'

‘Ah, I see now she's not wearing your skin-ring. Still saving up pigs, eh? It took
me years to get enough to marry your Auntie Balum. This woman looks pretty strong.
Should be good for at least three gardens, and lots of kids.' He flashed a brilliant
smile at Beatrice.

‘What a gentleman!' Beatrice beamed.

Archie decided that a translation wasn't required.

They devoted the afternoon to a tour of the museum. As the islanders wandered through
the great halls they scrutinised the contents of every cabinet. Those containing
artefacts or objects from their region were observed with particular interest: the
arrangement and labelling of sacred objects in particular were minutely examined.
They also took careful note of the skeletons and stuffed animals—particularly the
totemic ones like the whales and sharks. When the closing bell rang, it was only
with the greatest difficulty that Archie got them to break off their studies.

As they were filing out, Archie found their way blocked by a knot of visitors. Predictably,
they were gathered around Jeevons. The guard's face was turned heavenwards, the very
picture of anguish.

‘When you found Sopwith, Mr Jeevons, was he dead or alive?' a man asked.

‘Alive,' croaked Jeevons.

‘Did he say anything?' a matronly-looking woman asked in trepidation.

‘Yes, yes,' the museum guard almost whispered, before pausing dramatically. ‘He looked
up at me with them terrible eyes, and pointed with his claw, all bent up with the
poison, and whispered, “The golden cowrie.”'

Archie hurried his visitors away. ‘Who is that great man?' Sangoma asked, looking
back in awe. ‘Is he the chief of the museum? I can't understand a word he is saying.
But what a powerful orator! And so well dressed.'

It was not without misgivings that Archie left his friends at the boarding house.
It wasn't just the bedbugs and the cold he was
worried about—there was nobody there
who could understand them. And they understood nothing at all. He showed them the
toilet, but was far from sure they properly understood what purpose it served.

‘Just don't drink from it. The water is here,' he said, turning a tap in the common
washroom. The sight of the water spurting from the wall had twelve eyes growing to
the size of dinner plates.

When Archie arrived at work the next morning and found Uncle Sangoma standing in
the foyer, handcuffed to a sturdy policeman, he was not entirely surprised.

‘Constable Doolan,' Archie said, reading the policeman's badge. ‘What is this about?'

‘This savage is charged with theft. And resisting arrest. He practically dragged
me here.'

‘Uncle, what happened?' Archie asked.

‘Well, I got up with the birds and went looking for food. I saw a man with a pile
of fruit. He was giving it out to people, holding a feast, just like we do in the
islands. So I joined the line, sure to receive my share. But when I took a banana
and started to eat it, the man went mad, and called this chief,' he said, pointing
to the policeman.

‘I'll handle matters from here, officer. And I'll see that the fruiterer is paid,'
said Archie.

‘If I so much as see either of you again, in any circumstances,' Slugger Doolan said
as he unlocked the handcuffs, ‘you'll learn
how to behave the hard way.'

Archie took Sangoma to his office and told him to stay there until he returned, but
not before he issued a stern warning. ‘Uncle, this is a dangerous place. Far more
dangerous than the Venus Isles. Please, no matter what, do not leave your rooms without
me. It's a matter of life and death.'

Archie found the fruiterer at his usual location.

‘That bloody blackfella took the banana, and he smile like a bloody thief! Mista
Mik, it's not right.'

‘Joe, Sangoma comes from a place where there's no money. He doesn't understand. But
if he and his family can have breakfast here every morning, I'll pay for the fruit.
Okay?'

‘If you say so, Mista Mik, I give the fruit. But they betta bloody well eat it over
there,' Joe said, pointing to a park bench at some distance from his fruit barrow.

‘I'll tell them,' Archie acquiesced. He could see how Joe's coterie of female customers
might be scattered to the four winds by the presence of the swarthy islanders.

Later that day Archie and Beatrice took the men to the Eveleigh rail yards. They
wanted to demonstrate the power of the industrial process—to show the islanders where
the wealth of the white man came from. But the machinery, noise and glowing metal
seemed not to impress. The islanders walked through the noisy sheds, their hands
clasped behind their backs, looking at the faces of the workers and avoiding even
peeking at the machines. A visit to the dressmakers and the department store got
the same response. Only when they got back to the hostel, and Sangoma once more saw
the running tap, did they become lively.

That evening, Beatrice suggested that they take the islanders for a walk through
the neighourhood. On the corner of Palmer and Liverpool streets an elderly man, dressed
in a nautical cap and jacket, was pushing a pram that looked as though it dated back
to Queen Victoria's time. ‘Oysters. Buy the lovely fresh oysters from Jimmy!' he
was shouting. And indeed the pram was full of Sydney rock oysters scattered with
lemon slices.

‘
Karang, muli
,' Sangoma said, smacking his lips.

‘Oysters, lemon,' Archie translated. He could see there was no helping it. He stopped
and ordered three dozen from Jimmy, who opened them on the spot. They were gone in
a instant. Archie dipped into his slender reserves to buy three dozen more.

‘We better move on before they bankrupt us,' said Beatrice with a laugh. They walked
towards Darlinghurst Road, where Archie caught sight of Nellie. She was walking beside
a short, nuggety Italian man, and seemed reluctant to meet his eye. But a meeting
was unavoidable.

‘Hello, Archie. This is my husband, Guido Galetti. Guido, Archie works at the museum.'