by Freda, Paula
The Adventures of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden
on the Isles of Polynesia
(Tale of the Birdmen)
Volume 4
Copyright 2005 - 2011
by Dorothy Paula Freda
(Pseudonym - Paula Freda)
Cover photo and inserts licensed by Paula Freda from iStockphoto.com
Smashwords Edition
Author retains all rights.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof.
This story appeared in my novel "In Another Life (from the Journals of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden)" under my pseudonym, Paula Freda. It is a work of fiction. Except for documented historical data and geographical locations, all names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
DEDICATION
With thanks to my Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this novella to my husband, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 40 years have kept my dreams and my view of the romantic, alive and vibrant." Paula Freda
The Adventures of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden
on the Isles of Polynesia
(Tale of the Birdmen)
CHAPTER ONE
The students filed into Lord Hayden’s classroom. A few of them caught their eminent professor looking across the hall where Professor Elizabeth Eldridge stood at the entrance to her own classroom. One or two of them recognized the sadness, if not its cause, behind the tall man’s stalwart exterior.
With the students settled, Professor William Hayden, known to his friends and peers as Lord Hayden, began his lecture. "We have much ground to review in the next forty-five minutes, especially with the midterm examinations only a week away. I would appreciate only questions relevant to our present studies."
One of his brighter students, a young man of Hawaiian descent, raised his hand, waving it enthusiastically. From the beginning of the term, the fellow had struck Lord Hayden as impulsive. However, his IQ and his respect for the subject of archeology often prompted Lord Hayden to make allowances for the young student’s often unorthodox behavior in class, such as his now interrupting with what he was certain had nothing to do with the lesson at hand. He nodded for the student to speak.
"I must show you this, please." He spoke with a slight accent. From his trouser pocket he produced a miniature that shone gold. "My aunt who owns a small estate in Hawaii found this while planting in her garden." The young man went on, hardly taking breath, "It’s authentic, very old and solid gold. She had it verified by a local antiquarian. She thinks there might be more of these pieces lying beneath her garden." He added significantly, "She’s wealthy, Dr. Hayden."
Lord Hayden motioned for him to bring up the artifact.
The piece appeared indeed authentic, the image of a Polynesian God. He would have to research the exact name and the legends associated with this deity. "We’ll talk about it after class," Lord Hayden told the youth. "Please sit down."
The young man in his early twenties returned to his seat, bouncing with anticipation. Lord Hayden controlled his own enthusiasm. He was sure the local museum and its most generous contributor, the college, would be very interested in purchasing this artifact, and what others might lie unearthed in the garden of this young student’s aunt. And besides the archaeological interest, was the opportunity he had been waiting for, with winter recess approaching. Another collaboration with Professor Elizabeth Eldridge, and through her, with the woman he adored, Grace Quinlan.
Later, in the staff room, Lord Hayden, accompanied by his Hawaiian student, placed the miniature in Professor Eldridge’s palm. "What do you think? Worth researching?" He let his student explain how he had come by the miniature. The knowledgeable lady archaeologist examined the piece. A smile broke past the stern features. The grey-tinted glasses hid the sparkle dancing in her eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
"Grace dearest," Lord Hayden called, glancing upward from inside an excavated trench, ten feet by twelve and as deep.
"An original, or a copy?" the red-gold haired journalist working above inquired as she climbed down the rope ladder.
"See for yourself," Lord Hayden replied, handing her the gold figure.
She examined it. "An original; the same, but slightly different," and gazing at him speculatively, "They don’t belong here."
"I agree. They’re a long way from home."
"Yet look at the face on the figure; originally we’d thought it Hawaiian, although we haven’t as yet precisely identified the deity. The lines on the sides and back of both figures resemble those of the birdmen petroglyphs on Easter Island. The deity associated with that worship was Make-Make, God of Life. There are few, if any, authenticated sculptures of Make-Make, at least ones that delineate his features clearly. He is often cross-referenced with other Polynesian deities," Elizabeth under the disguise of Grace Quinlan concluded, restating their previous findings as if to remove all doubts from their minds.
From overhead, Mrs. Chola, a corpulent, pleasant-faced matron, greeted, "Aloha, you two. How is it going? Find anything worth your time?" Mrs. Chola, the aunt of Ronne, the Hawaiian student who had brought the first of the two figures to Lord Hayden’s attention, had unearthed the figure on her estate while planting in her garden. She had shown it to her nephew. After checking with a local antiquarian, they were convinced they had stumbled upon an authentic find. At Mrs. Chola’s personal request, Lord Hayden, accompanied by journalist Grace Quinlan, was invited to conduct an excavation on her estate."
"You two, it’s lunchtime. Come and join me on the terrace," Leana Chola summoned. Though born on the "Big Island," she had been raised and educated in the States. When her parents passed on, she relocated to her native land. Her thousand-acres were situated on high ground. Cliffs fluted by rain-fed waterfalls and pounded and eroded over the eons by restless sea breakers, bounded the west side of her estate. To the north and south, stalky taro and pink orchid farms spread like thick, rich carpets. On the eastern side, one of the chain of craters of the still-active volcano of the Kilauea complex, a hardened, tortured mass of silver-grey lava, shimmered by day in the sunlight, and by night in the moonlight.
The terrace, open to green, swaying grass and palm trees, was located behind the main house, an immense white federation structure with tall conservative windows and curving outside dual staircase. Elegant white laced iron-wrought tables and chairs waited for her guests.
Mrs. Chola had inherited the estate from her grandparents, and its boundaries were symbolic of Hawaii itself - a mixture of nature’s most challenging designs.
After changing into crisp linen and dainty cotton, the two archaeologists joined Mrs. Chola for a lunch of steamed chicken and vegetables at a round table beneath a wide frilly umbrella. "Well, let’s eat," Mrs. Chola said. She served herself a portion of the entrée, then added a generous serving each of sliced bananas and sweet potatoes.
Ronne began, "My aunt tells me you’ve found a figure similar to the first."
"If not an exact duplicate, definitely a representation of the same deity," Elizabeth under the disguise of Grace Quinlan said. "We’re still not sure of its identity."
"Any indication yet that the site was once a heiau?" Ronne asked.
Lord Hayden helped himself to s
ome chicken. "No solid evidence. It may have been a private shrine rather than a public one."
Ronne sounded downcast. "Weeks of digging and we’re no closer to an answer than when we started. I fear I’ve led my teacher on a futile pursuit."
Elizabeth remonstrated, "How can you say that? Lord Hayden and I are more than satisfied. The two figures alone, not to mention the ornaments, utensils and pottery we have unearthed, are invaluable to our science. The Directors at Layton Hall are very happy with the finds we have reported thus far. They have already contacted the Museum and made your aunt an irresistible offer for the pieces.
Mrs. Chola placed an arm around her nephew. "So young and full of ambition. The years may teach you different."
"I want to be a worthy archaeologist like Lord Hayden, with priceless artifacts to my credit. I don’t want the years to teach me different."
"Then perhaps they won’t."
Mrs. Chola addressed Lord Hayden, "I’ve invited a friend of my late husband. Professor Richard Tesk is a teacher of Oceanean history. He is vacationing on the Island. He may be able to shed some additional light on the two figures. For the past month he has been living on Easter Island and doing research for his classes back in the States." As if on cue, a tall, white-suited man emerged from the back of the house. "Here he comes now," Mrs. Chola said.
Despite the Anglican name, Richard Tesk’s features were distinctly Polynesian. "Leana, such a pleasure to receive your invitation to lunch."
Mrs. Chola accepted his handshake across the table. "It’s been too long since your last visit," she said. "I’ve been remiss in not inviting you sooner. When Joseph died, I let many friendships slip away in my grief. Of late I’ve tried to make amends."
Tesk spoke reverently. "The students and I at the college miss Joseph dearly. He was a fine teacher with knowledge of antiquities that few of us can boast. Ronne is wise to follow in his footsteps."
"Joseph loved his nephew like the child we could never conceive. I’m proud of him, too. Richard, let me introduce two very fine people." She made the introductions then urged Tesk to sit and eat.
Elizabeth asked, "I hear you’ve been doing research on Easter Island."
"I’m most interested in the Birdman Cult, and its influence on the island’s inhabitants," Tesk replied.
Ronne’s face lit with excitement. "That’s a fabulous coincidence. The two figures we have unearthed in my aunt’s garden bear a strong resemblance to the birdmen petroglyphs found on Easter Island, except for the faces whose identity is not as yet clear to us. Perhaps you can help us."
"Of course. Let me see the figures."
Ronne stood up hastily and ran into the house to get the artifacts. Tesk suggested to Lord Hayden, "You should visit Easter Island before you return to your university. Matakiterani is famous for its abundance of artifacts, not to mention the stories the natives tell regarding the birdmen cult. The stories are fascinating, yet the cult’s origin goes back hardly beyond the eighteenth century."
"We’ll be returning to the States and the college shortly, turning over the dig to other interested parties who don’t have class obligations. But I think we can spare a few days to visit Matakiterani. What do you think, Grace?"
Elizabeth nodded, smiling, emerald eyes radiant.
Ronne hurried toward the group. "Here are the figures, Professor Tesk. What do you think of them?"
Tesk examined them closely, turning them over several times. "I agree with you that the torsos are loosely reminiscent of the birdmen petroglyphs, but the heads... the images I have come across thus far have been carved from wood and all have a tern’s head."
"Precisely," Lord Hayden agreed.
Elizabeth added, "Polynesian and Oceanean deities are pictured for the most part as fierce-looking and grotesque, not at all this handsome," she said pointing to the figure.
"In a few days I am returning to Matakiterani," Tesk said. "I have my own boat, not to be considered a yacht, but it does boast a small cabin and a sturdy structure able to withstand the trip. Perhaps you would like to join me this time around?"
Lord Hayden wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or was Tesk’s glance at Grace somewhat clandestine? He rubbed his eyes. He must indeed be overtired. "Mrs. Chola, you won’t mind us stopping the dig temporarily, while we follow up on the birdmen half of the figure?"
"If you think it’s necessary, I’ll hold the fort in your absence," she said, squaring her shoulders. "I do hope you find answers." She smiled benignly.
CHAPTER THREE
Easter Island, also known as Matakiterani... Eyes gazing at the sky, and the navel of the world, the beginning (or the end) of civilization, constituted another of nature’s patchwork quilts, a triangle with a volcano at each corner. The slopes of the volcanoes formed the island’s interior composed of rolling craggy moors, rocky cliffs and sand beaches, mainly populated by a people with dark copper skin.
The trio accompanied by Ronne, came ashore in a dinghy. On the beach they were met by a man in stature reminiscent of the mysterious stone Gods of the Island. The army jeep in which he arrived palled beside him. He was at least seven feet tall, Herculean, his white summer suit a striking contrast to his dark copper skin. Tesk hurried toward him and the giant immediately extended his hand. Tesk clasped the offered hand and told the others, "This is my friend, Tunai, who has permitted me to use his home during my stay on the Island. Tunai. Let me introduce some colleagues of mine."
Tunai nodded a greeting to Elizabeth. Lord Hayden was not so fortunate, and had to endure an iron handshake. Ronne was not so brave. He smiled at the giant, and then suddenly remembered he had left his camera in the dinghy.
For all his formidable size, Tunai’s welcome appeared genuine. He spoke with a strong nasal Polynesian accent. "You must be cramped and weary from your ocean voyage. Allow me to take you to my home. It is not large, but since our children’s marriage, there is ample room for my friend’s guests. Come." He motioned toward the jeep. "My house is not far from here. The sun is still high in the sky and the water warm. When you have unpacked, you may wish to return to the beach and refresh yourselves."
The ride in the jeep, short but bumpy, ended in front of a single-storied, weather-beaten wood house and behind it a small barn. Tunai’s wife, Alana, came out to greet her guests. She was a large, bright-eyed matron whom Elizabeth immediately liked, along with her flowery Mother Hubbard shift, muumuu. Alana hustled them into her pre-nineteen- thirties home, a boxed kitchen with three bedrooms. She led Ronne to Tesk’s room that had originally belonged to her son, and Lord Hayden and Elizabeth to a room that had belonged to her daughter. Lord Hayden commenced to ask if he might share Tesk’s quarters as well, since Grace and he were not married. But Elizabeth with a quick touch to his arm and a shake of her head stopped him. "Let’s not complicate matters," she whispered for his ears alone. We’ve shared quarters before, and you long ago earned my trust."
Once inside the room, the two set about making themselves at home. Ruffled pink curtains hung over the windows with shutters currently open. A twin sized bed minus a head and baseboard, a small wooden table and tweed loveseat comprised the furniture in the room. The floorboards were bare, but clean. "We’ll take turns sleeping on the loveseat," Elizabeth offered generously.
The first week on the Island was busy and exciting. The stone giants with their red hats (Topknots quarried from the red stone found inside a little volcano known as Puna Pau), and Tunai’s family cave to which he allowed them access, filled the days with all and more than they could ask for. Family caves were carefully guarded secrets. Customarily, only one family member knew its location. This secret was passed on to a succeeding member from generation to generation. The caves were guarded by an akuaku, a benevolent spirit. Not one to be trifled with, for the spirit could harm as well as protect. Tunai, educated in Hawaii, and of a more liberal and progressive state of mind, permitted Lord Hayden access to his family cave. He allowed him to remove certain expendabl
e artifacts, among them small stone images of Gods worshipped on the Island. But the foot-tall wooden image of a birdman, he declared "sacred" and necessary to the aku-aku who watched over the cave and its contents.
Tunai’s wife knew much about the Island’s folklore regarding the ruins of the Orongo village and the cult of the Feathered Gods, the birdmen. After dinner, the party would listen attentively and intrigued to Alana’s stories.
Orongo, no more now than a pile of broken rocks skirting the ridge of the volcano known as Rano-Kao, had once been a holy and mystical site where a secret and fascinating ceremony took place yearly. Into the outcrops of the volcano’s crater were etched the birdmen’s symbols of a cult that had once been basic to the beliefs of the island’s people. They worshipped the God Make-Make, Lord of the creatures of the air, the God of Life. Alana’s eyes lit with reverence and awe as she spoke of Him. Once a year Make-Make would hallow the rite of fruitfulness and a return to the people’s beginnings. He would send the sooty terns to Motu Nui, the third of the tiny rock islands that lay across the strait from the Orongo Cliffs. Here the terns would nest and lay their eggs.
It was the custom of the people to choose a leader each year. A Tangata Manu—a Bird Man. In order to attain the honor and privileges given with that status, the candidate must acquire the first egg laid by the sooty terns on Motu Nui. The priests chose several candidates to fill this sacred position, but it was not the Tangata Manu who would do the taking, but his Hopu Manu, his helper and attendant. It was the Hopu Manus who would climb down the treacherous cliff-face, swim through the pounding breakers against the current, keeping clear of the sharks that inhabited the waters, and wait on the little rock island inside tiny caves for the coming of the birds and the laying of the first egg. When the moment finally arrived, and one Hopu Manu had taken the first egg, he would cry out to his king, the new Tangata Manu, and his cry would echo across the strait. Still, the Hopu Manu’s work was not done until he had climbed back down to the sea, dipped the egg into the waters, and then tied the egg to his forehead with a mahute band. The other Hopu Manus would join him—the one whom Make-Make had filled with his strength.—to again brave the strait and swim fearlessly toward the Orongo Cliff, there to scale the treacherous overhangs and reach the feet of the new leader and present him with the precious egg, the symbol of the new beginning.