Tales of the South Pacific - James A. Michener [162]
"Corporal!" he shouted. That sleepy fellow came back to the bare office. "Oh, go on back to bed!" the colonel said.
"Wish he'd make up his mind," the corporal muttered.
"I'm sorry," the colonel shouted. Deep within him a voice kept saying over and over, "They were having a good time. And I'm not having a good time. I've never had any fun since I left high school in Terre Haute. Maybe they sing after dinner! Or maybe they just sit around and talk. There was nothing wrong there tonight. And they were having a good time."
"I'll go back and apologize," he said firmly. "That's what Mother would tell me to do. I was terribly rude up there. I'll go back and apologize. Corporal! Corporal!"
At the gate the sentry challenged him. "It's me! Colonel Haricot. Anybody leave yet?"
"Oh, no, sir!"
"Pretty scared in there, I guess?"
"Oh, yes, sir!"
When Haricot arrived we were all in the salon. The officers rose and bowed. Haricot was in his early forties and fat. His rump was quite round and bobbed grotesquely when he clicked his heels before Latouche. "I have come to apologize," he said simply. "I acted like a fool."
Latouche rose, extended her lovely hand, and forgave him. She managed to brush against him hesitatingly as she did so. Col. Haricot made a motion as if he wished to sit down and apologize further. But Latouche had foreseen this. Gently twining her arm in his she said, "I am so sorry, Colonel Haricot. After you so nice to come back this way. I have engagement with the pilot here." Whereupon, with no further comment, she grabbed my arm and led me from the salon.
Outside she sprang into activity. "Noé!" she called in a low voice. "Hurry! Find Laurencin!" When that frail girl, then only seventeen, came up, Latouche hurriedly adjusted her sister's dress, straightened the flowers in her hair, and kissed her. "Look pretty," she whispered. She patted Laurencin's hips, fluffed up the frills of her dress. "Now you' big chance!" She half slapped, half pushed the hesitating Laurencin toward the salon door where Colonel Haricot was preparing to leave. "Good luck, Laurencin," she whispered. "This you' big chance!"
A few days later the guard was removed. This was a mistake, because one night the plantation was aroused by shooting. Latouche and I had already gone to bed. Colonel Haricot was in the garden with Laurencin. I hastily dressed and went out toward the sound of the shooting. To my surprise I found a naval officer in the salon. An enlisted man was arguing with him, trying to get a revolver away from him.
"Where's the girls?" the officer bellowed.
"Come on, Lieut. Harbison!" the enlisted driver begged.
"Don't pull me, son!" the drunken officer cried. He waved his gun at the serious enlisted man. Then, seeing me, he lurched across the salon to greet me. "Where's the girls?" he demanded.
"There are no girls here," I said.
"Don't give me that. I know you fliers! Keep everything for yourself! I know you. Girls used to be here. Plenty of them!" He banged into a post as I sidestepped him. The bamboo walls shook. Latouche appeared at this moment.
"There she is!" Harbison cried. "You remember me, baby! That time the PBY went down. You remember me!"
"Throw him out, Bus," Latouche said quietly.
"You try to throw me out!" Harbison bellowed. "Nothin' but a goddam whore-house. I know you, sister! I know you!"
I leaped at the intruder. But he saw me coming. With a quick football manner he sidestepped me, tripped me, and smashed me in the face as I went down. The revolver butt knocked my jaw loose,