Captain Sidano collected statements from witnesses. One of the other passengers, disturbed by the noise, had come on deck in time to witness the killing of Maleski and the ferocious fight between Chas and his seamen and Maleski's men. Sidano covered himself, his owner and the crew by these statements, and entered his log accordingly. Then he set Island Traveller out to sea, where he performed a burial service on Maleski.

"I am now at your service, gentlemen, and wait your orders," said Sidano, when all was completed. "I have some passengers who would like to visit Taradata, but they do not insist. I have cargo to unload, but that can wait, if necessary. My ship and crew are now under my full control. You will inform me of your decisions?" He strode away to his cabin.

Chas chuckled. "Regular old sea-dog, ain't he? Ex-Merchant Navy, y'know. Couldn't get used to the free and easy island ways. Sort of lost his direction for a while. Could have finished up a suicide, or a lush, boozing himself to death on some island. I've seen it happen before. I reckon it's thanks to you we've all come to our senses. Free and easy is a fine way of living. There's only one drawback. Nothing comes free, and living too easy rots a man and prostitutes a woman." He grinned at Mark. "Sort of corny, huh? Little ol' corn philosopher, that's me. Sorry I called you sonny. You're a fine young fella. I still dunno what mob you belong to, but you can count me in."

Mark laughed. "My 'mob' will be happy to have you help us." He called up April Dancer in the launch.

In an hour she had rejoined the ship. Kazan and Lars Carlson also came aboard. Kazan was still a sick man. The virus had hit him hard, although injections helped keep down his temperature and eased the congestion. They gathered in the captain's cabin as Island Traveller rode at anchor. Chas was tending the passengers' needs.

"A false shore-line?" said Captain Sidano. "How can that be possible?"

"It's possible right enough," said April. "Your ship couldn't get close enough inshore to use the powerful glasses you need."

"A deep breakwater to turn the tides around the headland," said Lars. "Then they dredge the beaches and bull doze the sand further out. In six months, you would have a new outline. The tides would help. Also they would give deep water in the coves below Taramao Point. Ya — it has been done."

Mark peered through the porthole "Three or four native huts, palm trees, a background of tropical foliage. Looks innocent enough."

"The whole of the background is false," said April. "As false as a movie back-projection. A great scenic slab. I bet the few clumps of greenery are plastic. They flop in the breeze. Not like the real thing at all, but you have to bring them to close focus to see it."

"And who would — a-a-shoo! — bodder?" said Kazan, wheezing terribly.

"Not many visitors would bother," said Sidano. "They take pretty camera shots — that is all. And those beaches have been banned to visitors for a long time. There are big signs saying 'Stone fish in great numbers — keep out or die'. That scares off strangers. And there are guards who stop anyone else. Gradually, the area back of the small port itself has been closed to visitors."

"So they move their shore-line and build a scenic barrier to hide whatever they've got back of the beaches. What used to be there, Captain?" Mark asked.

"A valley, some native long huts, sugar plantations, and, of course, the Tara hills rising up to Taramao Point through the tara growth."

"What is tara growth?" April asked.

Sidano spread his hands about fourteen inches apart. "A fern plant with fronds about so big, but the fronds are so close it looks like a large fan. It is peculiar to this island, and obviously gave it the name — The word data itself means time — the time the tara plant was ready for picking by the islanders, who line their boats with it — the little coracles and small fishing craft. They also use it to thatch their houses. It has many local uses." He chuckled. "Even to make a local drink. I never tasted it, but old sailors have told me it is most foul but a great cure for scurvy and other ailments."

"This stuff doesn't grow anywhere else?" April asked.

Sidano shrugged. "Not in this form. It is something to do with the soil. I believe there is a tara fern in New Zealand, but it does not grow like this. The island tara has to be cut very carefully, and there is an art in its drying and pressing. And if they do not cut it, it will overwhelm all their homes." He pointed through the porthole to Taramao Point. "Those trees are all tara ferns which have been left to grow. The bark of those is stripped to make the coracles. Once the trees reach about eight or nine feet high, they stop growing, but they will make new bark." He looked at April and Mark. "But is this not an idle conversation? We have missed the tide this morning. Do we wait for the later tide or sail to Lagelo? The boats across the harbour mouth are foolish. I can crunch them aside with my ship."

April glanced at Mark, who nodded.

"We go in on the tide, Captain. You will tie up at the dock and unload your cargo in the usual way."

Mark said: "Would this mean an overnight stop? You can't unload and take on cargo and still get out on the tide?"

Sidano nodded. "That is so. I will advise my passengers not to leave the ship. I cannot guarantee your safety if you go ashore, and I do not have enough men to go with you as guards."

"We'll handle our end," said Mark. "You use your men for the work and to prevent any attempt at a takeover of the ship."

"You think this might happen?"

Mark shrugged. "If they hadn't closed up the island, I'd say no. But as things are — yes, they might try it."

"Then I think you should call upon your own country's Naval craft, which is a day's sailing from us, and request the assistance of a landing party," said Sidano briskly. He smiled. "To protect their nationals, of course. We do not want Palaga screaming about an international incident and claiming millions of dollars compensation. I am Palaganian, and I know how we work these things."

"Keep the idea in reserve," said Mark. "If we disappear, then no one gets off the island until we're found." He looked at April and the others. "Agreed?"

April nodded. "Ya," said Lars. "It is our job first."

"Use it as bluff," said Kazan, speaking more clearly now that his latest injection had taken effect. "Radio ashore. Tell dem you're cubbing id — but you'll call up de Davy to protect pashengers. Pardod by English!"

"Good idea," said April. "A captain would take such precautions."

"I bet they reply that passengers on board will not be molested," said Mark. "That safeguards the ship, and leaves us on our own if we go ashore. Which suits us."

"It is all very foolhardy," said Sidano. "I do not see the need."

"You stick to your job," said April. "We'll do ours. We're used to working alone. If my people wanted to use the Navy, they'd have done so. What is the island set-up? Who are Lodori and Tom-Tom?"

"Lodori is a doctor, also the island's teacher. Tom-Tom is cousin to Mareet, the present chief who deposed Kuala. They call him 'Boy' Kuala. He is quite old, but has a boyish face. The Mareets have Palaga blood. The Kualas have not. Kuala's daughter, Imali, married Tom-Tom, after her sister Iloni refused him." The captain shrugged. "These islands have many troubles like that. All family matters — not bad, unless foreigners interfere. I think this has happened on Taradata. We keep out of them. It is best."