The next morning more information came in about Mabel. Satellite
photographs showed that
she was now 900
kilometres south east of San Fernandez and the other islands. She was
moving a little faster
now, in a north eastern
direction. Wyatt studied the information carefully. There was still
no reason why Mabel
should change direction
towards San Fernandez. But Wyatt still had this strange feeling in
his stomach. Mabel was
trouble. She was getting
stronger all the time. Her winds were too fast, the air pressure in
her 'eye' was too low. A small
change in her
direction could mean thousands of deaths.
At lunchtime Wyatt put away his papers and maps, and went to meet
Julie. They drove up into
the mountains
behind St Pierre, past fields full of fruit trees, where the island
people worked fourteen hours a
day, seven days a
week.
Julie stared out of the window. 'They look so poor,' she said.
'They are poor,' said Wyatt. 'Serrurier owns most of the land, and he
pays the workers almost
nothing. The money
from the fruit farms is spent on guns and bombs for the soldiers, not
on schools and hospitals
for the people.'
'Why do you stay here?' asked Julie. 'Couldn't you move to the States
and do your study on
hurricanes there?'
'I'm doing my best work here,' said Wyatt. 'And I'm a West Indian.
This is my home.'
He drove for several kilometres and then stopped. They got out of the
car, and looked down
across the beautiful
valley of the Negrito river. To the left they could see right down to
St Pierre and Santego Bay,
with Cap Sarrat on the
far side.
'It's so wonderful up in these mountains,' said Julie softly. 'I
was hoping you would bring me up here again.'
'Is that why you came back to San Fernandez?' asked Wyatt
quietly. He looked quickly at Julie, but she seemed very
interested in the mountains. Wyatt decided to be brave. He put
his arms around Julie, and said,
'How would you like to live up here? And marry me?'
Suddenly Julie's arms were around his neck. 'Oh Dave,' she
cried, 'I'd like that very much.' Then for several minutes there
was no conversation at all.
After a while Wyatt laughed and said, 'I didn't know what to
think last night. You seemed much more interested in Causton
and Hansen than in me!'
Julie smiled and pushed her hand through his hair. 'I was
afraid, of course. I couldn't forget you, and so I had to come back
to see you ... to find out. And your letters never told me
anything!'
Wyatt laughed again. 'I was never very good at love letters.
But now I won't have to write any,' he said happily.
They sat under a tree and talked for hours. They talked about
their families, their hopes and plans, their new life together on
San Fernandez. Wyatt had never felt so happy in his life. At last
the shadows began to grow longer. Wyatt stood up and pulled
Julie to her feet.
'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go and find a quiet dinner for two
in St Pierre.'
They had not driven far along the road when Wyatt suddenly
stopped the car again.
'What is it?' said Julie. 'What's the matter?'
Wyatt was staring at a house near the road.
It was a small
wooden house, with no windows, and dried leaves for a roof. An
old man was working busily round the house. There were several
long ropes over the roof of the house, and the old man was
fastening the ends of the ropes to strong sticks fixed in the
ground.
'Just a minute, Julie,' said Wyatt. 'I'd like to talk to that man.'
He got out of the car and walked across to the house. The old
man stopped his work and took the cigarette that Wyatt offered
him. Wyatt lit it for him, and said,
'That's hard work. Why are you doing it?'
The old man looked surprised. 'I must make my house safe.'
He put his nose to the cigarette. 'American - very good.'
Wyatt lit his own cigarette and turned to look at the house.
'The roof must not come off,' he agreed. 'And your family - are
they here with you?'
'No. I have sent them north, over the mountains. When I have
finished, I will go too.'
'You must be very afraid,' said Wyatt gently.
The old man looked at him. 'It is a time to be afraid. No man
can fight the big wind.'
'The big wind,' repeated Wyatt quietly. 'How do you know
that the wind is coming? And when will it come?'
The old man looked down the valley towards the sea. 'Two
days,' he said. 'Perhaps three days. Not longer.'
Wyatt looked at the house again. 'When you go, leave the door
open. The wind doesn't like closed doors.'
'Of course,' agreed the man. 'A closed door is unfriendly.'
There was an amused look in his eyes. 'Perhaps there will be
another wind soon, too. Worse than the hurricane. Favel is
coming down from the mountains.'
Wyatt stared at him. 'But Favel is dead.'
The old man finished his cigarette. 'Perhaps,' he said.
Wyatt walked back to the car and got in. He looked at Julie. 'I'm
sorry about the dinner,' he
said, 'but I must get
back to the Base at once.'
He started the engine, and as he drove, he told Julie what the old
man had said. 'He knows the
hurricane is coming.
He doesn't know why, he doesn't know how, he just knows. And I think
he's right. I can't
explain it, but I think Mabel
is going to hit San Fernandez. And Schelling is not going to believe
it.'
He was driving very fast now, and Julie closed her eyes. 'It won't
help if you kill us both in an
accident.'
'Sorry.' Wyatt smiled and slowed down just a little.