by Homer Hickam
Burr turned up his hands. “Sorry, Sister. Much as I hate to admit it, and in this one instance, I agree with Thurlow. I’d need the Second Marines behind me before I’d even think of asking a Jap officer to surrender. Even then, I doubt he’d do it. At least I’ve brought Father Donnelly for you. So please get your business done, and quickly. Yon sub will be going back on patrol this very day, I expect. I will go with it, and Father Donnelly, too. Josh will also join us.”
“I will not, Montague,” Josh replied.
“That’s still open for debate, my friend,” Burr purred. “Now, Sister, you and the cleric have church business to attend to. What it is, he would not say, but let’s have it done. Thurlow, are we ever to have breakfast?”
“Rose will soon have eggs on the griddle,” Josh answered, “and the coffee’s boiling.”
Burr looked about with quiet satisfaction. “This is a lovely island. I can see how a man might fall in love with it.” He touched his stomach. “But breakfast now, Thurlow, then I’ll see my three marines and get them back to discipline, and then all the rest, eh?”
Josh and Burr and Turu walked back up the common road, and Sister Mary Kathleen and Father Donnelly were left alone, not counting the sailors who had come across the lagoon on the raft, plus a dozen or so sleepy-eyed villagers. Chief Kalapa was among them. He looked as if he had been dragged through the dirt upside down. Such was the effect of combining kava and mangojack.
“Well, Sister, where shall we do this?” Father Donnelly asked. It was more of a demand.
“Chief Kalapa, good morning to ye,” Sister Mary Kathleen greeted the clearly ailing chief. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and his stomach sagged over his poorly tied lava-lava. He managed to raise a hand, though it trembled. She switched to the local dialect. “Could this priest and I use the boathouse for a short meeting? We require privacy.”
“You may,” Chief Kalapa answered. His head felt like a split coconut. “Only please no sorcery. It is too early in the morning.”
“No sorcery, Chief. I promise.”
Chief Kalapa nodded, then trudged toward home, being careful to step over a fella boy passed out on the road.
Sister Mary Kathleen led Father Donnelly inside the boathouse, after first bowing to the totem. The priest did not bow but clutched the envelope as if it were a club, following her to the front of the house, where she bade him sit on a palm log bench. He elected to stand. “I have your answer,” he said tautly “I thought your case demanded extra effort, so I caught a lift to Australia, where I sought out the bishop in Cairns.”
Though her heart was beating fiercely, she worked for inner serenity. “Get on with it, Father, if ye please.”
More curious villagers gathered outside the boathouse, including Mr. Bucknell, who sat down on one of the nearby school benches. He idly began to draw in the sand with the tip of his umbrella, waiting with everyone else, though for what he had no idea. The only word was that Sister Mary Kathleen was closeted with an official of her church, surely a sorcerer who had brought a missive from the high sorcerer of the Catholics on this the holy birthday of the god Jesus.
Shortly the priest appeared on the boathouse porch, looking about until he spied Mr. Bucknell. “Sir, would you do something for me?” he asked.
Mr. Bucknell approached and introduced himself. “If there is anything a representative of His Majesty’s government can do, I shall certainly comply.”
“The woman within requires assistance. She has asked for two women, one named Mori and one named Rose.”
“The woman within?”
“The nun,” he answered coldly.
“I shall see to it immediately,” Bucknell said and told one of the fella boys in the crowd to go after Jahtalo’s wife and Chief Kalapa’s first wife. “Is she all right, Captain?” Bucknell inquired after squinting to see the man’s Marine Corps rank pinned to the collar of his utilities.
The priest-captain did not reply. He stood on the porch with a stern expression while the silent crowd studied him. Some of the villagers were wondering if he was going to perform magic. To their infinite disappointment, he didn’t, and it wasn’t long before Rose and Mori, both a little breathless, appeared and went inside the boathouse. A few minutes later, Mori came out and ran back up the common road. There was much discussion of this event among the onlookers, which increased in volume when the first wife came back, this time carrying a package tied with a hemp string. She disappeared inside the boathouse, Father Donnelly all the while maintaining his aloof expression.
It was then that Ready, hearing the commotion, wandered down from his house. He was shirtless and, from his heavily lidded eyes, clearly in a bad way from the previous evening’s festivities. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Bucknell,” he said, shading his eyes, even though he was in shadow. “What gives?”
Mr. Bucknell gave Ready a rundown of the proceedings to the minute. Ready became instantly alert and pushed through the crowd to the porch. “Is there something wrong with Sister?” he politely asked the priest.
“It does not concern you,” Father Donnelly sternly replied.
“If it concerns Sister Mary Kathleen, it concerns me,” Ready answered. “What have you done to her?”
After a moment of deliberation, the priest intoned, “It is a matter of the Church, my son. Do not interfere.”
“Tell me or I’ll climb up there and knock your block off!” Ready barked.
But Ready didn’t knock the priest’s block off because Sister Mary Kathleen appeared at that moment at the doorway of the boathouse. It took Ready a moment to recognize her, as she was not wearing her habit but a loose gown made of blue lava-lava cloth that went from her neck to her ankles. Rose and Mori came behind and gave everyone a look of warning. Then the three women descended the steps from the porch and hurried along the path that led back to the treehouse. Ready made to follow, but Mr. Bucknell stopped him. “It would appear Sister wishes some privacy, my boy. Why don’t you give it to her?”
“But I don’t understand what’s happened!” Ready cried.
“Neither do I, but it will come out. Patience, lad. Patience.”
Father Donnelly stepped down from the porch. “What did you do to her?” Ready demanded anew. “Tell me, please!”
“Only what her sins required,” came the priest’s haughty response. This was the last thing the priest would say for some minutes, mainly because Ready cocked back his fist and let fly, the punch sending the marine Holy Joe sprawling on his back. He stared up with unfocused eyes, a bloody nose, and a groan.
“So much for a troublesome priest,” Mr. Bucknell chuckled, then bent down to see the damage. “Come on, Father. Snap out of it! I think you must have a glass jaw.”
Ready started up the path to the treehouse, then stopped and reconsidered. Mr. Bucknell was right. Sister wanted privacy. So he headed toward Captain Thurlow’s house, finding him sitting in a chair with Colonel Burr in another, both drinking coffee and having a genial conversation. The colonel’s presence was a shock, but he was not Ready’s priority. Ready nodded to Burr, then blurted a description to Josh of what had transpired at the boathouse. “I don’t know what to do,” Ready concluded.
“Why come to me? You’re in charge of everything.”
Ready ran his hand through his hair. “Because I don’t know what to do, and I’m tired of being in charge. You take it back, sir. I’ll do whatever you say!”
Josh, pleased beyond measure over this turnabout, advised Ready to have a seat and poured the unsettled young man a cup of coffee. “Something awful’s happened to her, I know it!” Ready wailed.
“Remain calm, Bosun,” Josh said.
“Is this man under discipline, Josh?” Burr demanded. “It appears he’s forgotten how to properly report to a superior officer.”
Josh shrugged. “Never mind that, Montague. We do things a little different here in the Far Reaches. Now, Bosun, look here. I don’t know what’s happened, but it can’t be all that bad. She a
in’t hurt, the little Sister, is she? No. She’s taken off her habit. Well, perhaps she was outside uniform regulations or some such since she’s had to stitch her own. The Catholic Church is just like the military, has its rules and regulations, and if you don’t follow them, then you have to walk off your demerits. Sister once told me that humility above all else was what a nun worked toward and humiliation was sometimes required, even invited. Maybe that priest came to bring her under discipline like the colonel here will do his marines.”
“That reminds me,” Burr growled. “When do I get to see my wayward boys?”
“They’re still asleep, sir,” Ready answered.
Burr’s eyes turned cold, and he gestured toward Ready with his cup. “Listen to me, son. Go wake up my marines and tell them to get their butts here and I mean toot sweet!”
“Calm down, Montague,” Josh said. “Your boys will be along by and by. And what do you know? The navy has arrived.”
Josh stood and held out his hand to a naval officer who had walked up the road from the beach. “Captain Josh Thurlow, United States Coast Guard,” he greeted.
“Captain Taylor Wells,” the handsome young man in crisp khakis said, taking Josh’s hand. “It’s good to meet you at last, Captain Thurlow. You’re a legend out here. The hero of Wilton’s Ridge.”
Josh waved the compliment aside and poured the submarine skipper a cup of coffee. He was enjoying playing the proper host. “Wish I could warm that up with some Mount Gay rum, but we’re all out.”
Wells took the cup, drank a healthy slug, and smiled. “Good stuff. Best I’ve had in a very long while.”
“Locally grown,” Josh said proudly. “I expect this island could grow a commercial crop, given some investment.”
“See here, Josh,” Burr snapped. “We didn’t come here to talk about coffee beans. Captain Wells has a schedule and we’ve already disrupted it. Isn’t that right, Captain?”
Wells nodded, then shrugged. “A commander has to roll with the punches. But I would like to get going.” He looked at Josh over the rim of his cup. “Anytime you’re ready, sir.”
“I won’t be going with you,” Josh answered, then added, “This is not a point of discussion or argument.” When Burr started to discuss and argue, Josh raised his hand for silence. “Now, Montague, hold on. You, I, and the skipper here are all of equivalent rank. Admittedly, you have me by your date of rank, but I am still not in your chain of command. In fact, I’m not in anybody’s chain of command, except maybe Frank Knox’s since I am out here by his invitation. But he told me to use my initiative and see what I could see. Well, I’ve seen it, and now I’m going to stay right here, at least until I can convince my family to leave.”
“Rationalize it any way you want, Josh, but it’s still desertion,” Burr pointed out. “When Admiral Halsey hears about it, he’ll likely order you captured, then trussed up on a stake and shot.”
“I’ll take my chances with Bull Halsey,” Josh growled.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Captain Thurlow?” Wells asked.
Josh nodded gratefully “There is, Captain Wells. I’d appreciate a full sweep of the area before you go back on patrol. There are at least two Jap barges that work out of Ruka. They need to be sunk.”
Wells shook his head. “I’d like to help out, but Ruka’s out of my way. You see, I need to get up north as soon as I can. There’s convoys coming down from Tokyo to resupply the Marianas, and I’ve been ordered to stop them.” Wells leaned toward Josh. “Look, Captain. What can I do to convince you to go with me?”
Josh shook his head. “Nothing. Since I’ve been here, I have tried to convince my wife and Chief Kalapa and all the others to evacuate down to the Gilberts for the duration of the war. I’ll keep doing that, but if they won’t go, I’m not going to abandon them.”
Wells smiled. “I understand. I’ve seen your wife. A marine pointed her out to me on the beach.”
Burr growled, “Well, I ain’t leaving here without you, Josh.”
Josh, oft surprised since he’d been in the Far Reaches, was surprised once more. “Why, Montague. I didn’t know you cared!”
Burr frowned one of his deeper frowns. “I don’t give a rat’s rear end about you. Never have and never will. But I have my orders, and they were clear. I am to bring you back to Halsey. I’ve half a mind to get Captain Wells here to send a contingent of his sailor boys to tie you up and drag you aboard. Then again, as much as I hate to say it, you’ve made some sense. You’ve taken on a responsibility here, and I guess you can’t sail away from it. Therefore, I’ve decided to stay and help you convince these people to es-cape while they still can.”
Josh was shocked by the offer. “Thanks but no thanks, Montague! You go on with Captain Wells. I’ll be along by and by”
“No dice, Josh. You’re stuck with me.”
Josh lowered his head into his hands. “I can’t believe it.”
Burr grinned. “Believe it, old son.”
Wells finished his coffee and put down his cup. “Tell you what. After my patrol, I’ll try to get back here, check on both of you, see if there’s anything I can do. I’ll also try to save a few torps to sink your barges.”
They stood and shook hands. “Good hunting, Captain,” Josh said. “Same to you, Captain. By the way, I talked to an intelligence officer when I received my orders to come here. He’d heard of Colonel Yoshu. Said he was a violent, nasty customer.”
“How long will your patrol last?” Josh asked.
“Hard to say. Matter of weeks, I would imagine. Say, Josh, would you like some khakis? That lava-lava looks like the perfect thing for these islands, but maybe you might like to put on the uniform for special occasions.”
Josh nodded in gratitude. “I could also use some boots, large ones, if you have them. An officer’s cap, too, if you don’t mind. I don’t imagine you’ve got one with the Coast Guard stiff eagle attached, but I’ll be pleased to wear the navy bird, too.”
Wells grinned. “I’ll have two sets of khakis, a pair of large boots, and one cap sent to you immediately.”
The khakis were sent along with the boots and the cap, and then Captain Wells waved from the conning tower of his sub as it curved out to sea. Josh stood with Rose and Colonel Burr and watched it go. “Well, Montague,” Josh said, “your fat’s in the fire now, I reckon.”
Burr rubbed his hands. “Truth be known, Thurlow, I was ready for an adventure. Now, where’s my marines? Discipline. That’s the ticket for those leathernecks. I can’t wait to get started!”
Josh chuckled. “I’m certain they feel the same, Montague. Yes, I’m certain they do.”
46
Two days after Christmas, she announced through Rose that she was ready to be visited. First was Nango and the other Ruka fella boys, then Chief Kalapa. Afterward came Mori, Mr. Bucknell, and Josh Thurlow. Each left the treehouse and, to the astonishment of the people of the village, refused to gossip about what was discussed. The last to visit her was Ready. His face was a grim mask, a lump in his throat as big as his fist, as he climbed the winding stairs. He found her dressed in the blue lava-lava gown. Nothing covered her hair. It was, Ready discovered, brown and cropped short, giving her a surprisingly boyish appearance.
“Please sit, Bosun,” she said, indicating a chair built of breadfruit wood that Ready had constructed for her, in which he’d used not a single nail but wooden pegs, and polished it lovingly until it glowed.
She sat opposite him in the other breadfruit chair he’d built, then leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. Her eyes were filled with meaning and brimming with tears. Before she could speak, Ready said, “You promised to call me Ready, Sister.”
She nodded. “So I shall, Ready, but you must never call me Sister, no, not ever again. This is why I have asked ye here. I am no longer a sister of me order. I am back in the world, as the sisterhood calls it. Kathleen, that is me name. That is what I ask ye call me henceforth.”
Ready nodded slowl
y, then asked, “Can you tell me why?”
She took a breath, then used a finger to wipe away a tear that trickled across her cheek. “I loved my vocation, Ready. I loved it more than life, though the other sisters often remarked that I was a worldly nun. They said I lacked humility It was true, though I longed to be as devoted to the Church as they were, and to attain their serenity, no matter what the challenge. When I told them this was my greatest wish, they said such longing only reflected pride, that I had to let go of all desire, but even then, there was no such thing as a perfect nun.”
She smiled a sad smile. “But Ready, ye should have seen them when they faced death! They were perfect, indeed. They knelt with their eyes gleaming in trust that they would soon be in paradise. Ye see, I was there, in the same room. Father Ballester meant to save me, and so he hid me from the Japanese. But I was found and brought out into the chapel, there to observe Colonel Yoshu’s vengeance against the priests and the sisters for their disobedience. That they tried to save me was their disobedience, Ready. Do ye understand?”
“Yes,” Ready answered quietly. “I understand you were forced to do everything that you did.”
She shook her head. “No. Not everything. I did not protest when Colonel Yoshu did not kill me. This was me first sin, though far from me greatest. I was led to me prison, a small concrete cell that had been used as a storage room in the chapel. There I was kept for months with little to eat but bread and water. My habit was taken away. I was kept naked and not allowed to wash. I lost track of time. Gradually, Ready, I fell into filth and self-loathing. I would have done anything for freedom. Finally, I even begged the guards to kill me, or take me and use me for their pleasure. Anything, to get out of that cage. They laughed, of course, and left me where I was. I was too grotesque even for them, y’see. It was a shameful thing and me next sin. But it was still not my greatest.”
Ready pressed his lips together hard, then said, “Anyone would have done the same.”
“Anyone but a nun! We have special duties!” she snapped. “Please just listen and try to understand. Then the guards came and dragged me from me cell. They held their noses, I stunk so awful, but I was allowed to bathe and given a clean robe to wear. Then I was moved to Colonel Yoshu’s quarters, which had been Mr. Bucknell’s house. Colonel Yoshu was not there, and for some days I was allowed to move about freely as long as I didn’t try to leave. I met Nango there, and the other fella boys. They were kept as servants, and the soldiers, the most sinful, used them in terrible ways. We talked—it wasn’t forbidden—and he told me he and the others had decided on suicide.