by Lance Morcan
Finally, he finished undressing and stood looking down at her. In the dark, Susannah sensed rather than saw that he was naked. Nathan reached down and tried to pull the sheet away from her. Susannah held the top of the sheet tight under her chin for a moment before releasing her grip and allowing Nathan to pull it down around her ankles.
Before she knew it, he was lying next to her. He made no move for a moment or two, but, pressed up against her on the narrow bunk. Susannah knew for sure that he was naked. The knowledge of what was to come was almost too much for her. She felt overcome with desire before he’d even laid a hand on her.
Unable to control herself any longer, she threw herself on top of him and began kissing him passionately. Nathan wrapped his strong arms around her and expertly rolled her onto her back. Opening her legs, she wrapped them around him and arched her back as he entered her. Moaning, she felt strong hands shaking her.
“Susannah! Wake up! Wake up!” The voice was her father’s. “You’re having a nightmare.”
Susannah opened her eyes and had to close them immediately, so bright was the morning sunlight that flooded through the porthole of the cabin she shared with Drake Senior. She immediately realized the lovemaking was only a dream.
“You were groaning in your sleep,” Drake Senior advised her.
“Did I wake you?” Susannah asked. She immediately looked down and was relieved to find she was wearing her nightgown and the top sheet was covering her.
“No, child,” Drake Senior smiled. “I have been up since dawn.” He retired behind the curtain that effectively separated their cabin into two compartments, giving each a semblance of privacy at least. “You were tired so I let you sleep on.”
Lying on her bunk staring up at the underside of the bunk above her, Susannah felt guilty that she was capable of such vivid and erotic dreams. She immediately blamed Nathan for giving her such sinful thoughts and making her feel as she did.
Why did you have to come along?
#
Later that morning, having enjoyed breakfast with her father and Captain McTavish, Susannah ventured above deck. Leaning over the port-side rail, she looked down at the sea’s foaming surface as the Rendezvous sliced through the water ahead of a brisk easterly.
The sight of the foam, the smell of the salt air and the feel of wind in her hair took her back to the long, arduous voyage she and her father had endured coming out from England. They had traveled in the company of other missionaries who were also being posted to newly established missions in Australia, New Zealand and elsewhere throughout the New World.
That eventful journey, which had seen them suffer all manner of deprivations including starvation and nearly sinking—not to mention being pursued by pirates—had reinforced in Susannah’s mind why she had agreed to come to Fiji. While the other missionaries on board had all been godly people, they were far too smug and predictable for Susannah’s liking. She’d known their kind all her life and desperately wanted to interact with people from different cultures and backgrounds. If she didn’t do that soon, she was afraid she would die of boredom.
A sudden gust of wind brought her back to the present. As the wind strengthened, she noticed the sea was running higher. She studied the waves. They reminded her of paintings she’d seen of rolling desert sands and wondered if there was any truth to the theory that the world’s deserts were once oceans. She speculated on how long ago that would have been and decided it was probably back in the days of Ancient Greece or even earlier.
For no apparent reason, the image of a Greek god came to mind. Chiseled from white marble, the god was frozen in a naked pose; his face morphed into Nathan’s. Susannah imagined the American was making love to her—as he had in her recent dream.
The young Englishwoman tried to put Nathan out of her mind. Thinking about him unleashed a myriad of feelings. She felt excited, frightened, happy, confused, aroused, and sinful—all at once. Above all, she felt angry. Angry because it was his fault she was engaged in this internal war between her spiritual self and her sexual self. Despite herself, she wondered how his lips would feel against hers.
While she continued to fantasize, Susannah would have been mortified to know that the real Nathan was observing her at that very moment. The American was further along the deck, partially concealed behind blankets crewmen had hung up on a makeshift clothesline. He was admiring Susannah’s curvaceous figure, which was accentuated by the figure-hugging summer dress and top she wore. The view was especially alluring from behind.
Nathan was annoyed for allowing himself to be distracted. He’d ventured above deck to psyche himself up for the trading he was planning to do when they arrived in Momi Bay later in the day. He knew from experience he’d need to be in business mode when he stepped ashore. Susannah was distracting him from that. He turned his back on her and tried to put her out of his mind, but it was no use: she was pervading his mind and his thoughts.
The young man gave up trying to ignore Susannah and, after making sure her father was nowhere in sight, walked along the deck toward her. Knowing she was unaware of his presence, he decided to indulge himself a moment longer and just stood there, gawking at Susannah’s shapely backside. “Good morning, Miss Drake,” he finally ventured.
Susannah, who thought she was alone, spun around. She immediately felt guilty and wondered for a moment if Nathan somehow knew she’d been fantasizing about him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Nathan added.
Susannah quickly gathered her composure. “Good morning, Mr. Johnson.”
“Did you have a good night’s sleep, ma’am?”
The guilt Susannah had felt moments earlier suddenly returned tenfold as she remembered the erotic dream she’d had. She quickly nodded, to indicate she’d slept well before diverting her eyes from Nathan’s and looking toward the shore. It was then she noticed giant sand dunes along the shoreline. She gasped at the sight of them. They seemed to be reaching for the sky.
Noting the object of her interest, Nathan said, “Those are the famous sand dunes of Sigatoka.” He added, “I saw them on my arrival in Fiji.”
“How wonderful,” Susannah enthused, momentarily forgetting her antagonism toward Nathan.
Susannah wasn’t the only one fascinated by the mighty dunes. The Italian artist was frantically setting up his easel further along the deck, anxious to capture the scene on canvas before it disappeared from view.
As the passengers admired the dunes, a deserted Fijian village came into view. Its bure huts had recently been smashed and burned to the ground. Smoke rose from the still-smoldering ruins, and there was no sign of life.
A Welsh deckhand sidled up to the young couple. He nodded toward the village. “That’ll be the handiwork of Rambuka,” he proffered with some certainty.
Susannah studied the distant village then glanced at the Welshman. “Rambuka?”
“Aye. His warriors are the scourge of this coastline. They call them the outcasts.” The deckhand pointed toward Viti Levu’s distant highlands. “They live up there somewhere.” Nathan and Susannah studied the highlands. Dark storm clouds hung ominously over them. “Cannibals, all of ‘em,” the deckhand added before wandering off.
Alone again, Nathan smiled at Susannah. In her usual haughty manner, she gave him a quick glance before looking back at the shoreline. Nathan asked himself why he was persisting with such a young woman who, he could see, was clearly on a different planet to himself. Try as he may, he couldn’t come up with a sensible answer.
“I do not envy the task you and your father have set yourselves here in Fiji,” Nathan said probingly. Susannah looked at him sharply. Pleased to see he had her attention, he continued. “I fear you may be facing an uphill battle.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Well,” Nathan paused, thinking on his feet as he went. “Fiji ain’t called the Cannibal Isles for nothing. From what I’ve seen, these Fijians are some of the most savage people on earth.”
> “As my father told you last night, the Fijians at Momi Bay no longer practice cannibalism,” Susannah retorted. “That is testimony to the effectiveness of the Wesley Methodist Mission and the power of Christianity.”
“You may be right, but there are many tribes on the island of Viti Levu and not all are civilized.”
“Well, if the mission has succeeded with one tribe, I see no reason why we cannot eventually convert all Fijians to Christianity.”
“I admire your courage, but there’s been many a good Christian killed by savages.” Susannah looked skeptical. Nathan continued, “I’ve seen a priest dismembered and eaten by Indians in South America, and in Africa I once met a female missionary, not much older than you, who ended up being burned alive by Zulus.”
“Your point is?”
“My point is some peoples cannot be civilized. I’ve dealt with natives all over the world and they are not like us. No matter how much you try to educate them and no matter how many missionaries try to convert them, the native races never seem to evolve.”
Susannah looked perceptively into Nathan’s eyes. Her intuition told her that he was a racist. She reminded herself she’d met many such bigots back in England. “All people are equal in God’s eyes, Mr. Johnson,” she said.
Nathan couldn’t believe how naive she was. He chose to keep that observation to himself, though. He’d already said enough.
Without another word, Susannah turned and walked away. Nathan was about to follow when Drake Senior suddenly appeared on deck. The two men nodded briefly to each other before the missionary joined Susannah at the far rail.
Father and daughter engaged in earnest conversation. At one point they both looked back at Nathan. The American pretended not to notice. He could imagine what they were saying about him.
6
A rare storm was threatening as the Rendezvous sailed north along Viti Levu’s western shoreline toward Momi Bay. Rare because this was the dry side of the island where the climate was usually hot and the sun scorched all before it—unlike the soggy eastern side whose rainfall regularly topped one hundred inches a year. Even so, the archipelago was officially entering its wet season, so the odd storm or tropical cyclone could be expected even here in the west.
On the schooner’s deck, Lightning Rod jumped when a clap of thunder boomed out. He ran below deck, almost colliding with Nathan, who was venturing outside at that very moment, drawn by the growing din of waves crashing on the reef.
“Careful, Rod!” Nathan cautioned.
The simpleton wasn’t stopping. He always shot below deck at the first sign of a storm.
Nathan strolled to the bow just as the Rendezvous entered the narrow passageway that would take it through the reef and deliver it safely into Momi Bay. Aware that reefs were the main cause of shipwrecks in these waters, he found he was holding his breath as the Rendezvous negotiated a gap that seemed barely wider than the vessel. The noise of waves smashing against the reef was deafening.
In no time, the schooner was through the reef and into calmer waters. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief.
Sailing into Momi Bay, a village came into view directly ahead. Nathan guessed it was home to the tribe he’d come to do business with. He noted it was located atop a distinctive headland at the northern end of the bay.
A long, sandy beach extended for some distance from the village. Halfway along the beach, a pile of rocks rose straight up out of the sand, like some crude memorial. Nathan had no way of knowing he was looking at the very spot where Rambuka, the Outcast, had abducted Sina from. The rock pile was a memorial. It had been erected in Sina’s honor by her grief-stricken lover, Waisale, who even now, three months after the event, spent most of his time searching the highlands of the interior for his beloved.
The distant beating of drums announced the Rendezvous’s arrival in the bay. The drums could only just be heard above the sound of the crashing waves.
“Quite a sight, ain’t it?”
Nathan turned to see he’d been joined by Foley. “Sure is,” the American agreed.
Pointing at the village, Foley shouted, “That’s the village of the Qopa.”
Studying the village, Nathan could see the Qopa were going about their everyday lives. Like the Fijians back at Levuka, these people, with their distinctive frizzy hair, were impressive specimens and appeared to be even more warlike than their eastern cousins. The men carried clubs or spears, and armed lookouts were in evidence, guarding all approaches to the village.
Nathan turned to Foley. “Are they expecting trouble?”
“They’re always expecting trouble,” the Irishman chuckled. “These people are constantly at war with someone.”
Nathan studied the warriors’ weapons. He was relieved to see there wasn’t a musket in sight. That augured well for what he had in mind.
The Drakes emerged from below deck, anxious to see the place that was soon to become their new home. Excited, they hurried to the near rail to take in the view. Neither acknowledged Nathan even though he was standing only a few feet away.
Drake Senior pointed to the Wesley Mission Station. Nathan noticed it for the first time. Comprised of a modest house and separate chapel, it enjoyed splendid sea views and was located a couple of hundred yards from the village—just short of the rock memorial. Laughing children were playing inside the white picket fence that surrounded the station.
No sooner had the schooner anchored than a canoe laden with fresh fish and other trade items approached from shore. Qopa villagers maneuvered the canoe alongside the Rendezvous. A sailor threw a rope ladder over the schooner’s side, and in no time a dozen smiling, half-naked men and women were scrambling aboard, carrying their trade items with them. Crew members took special note of the women, several of whom were very pleasing on the eye.
Nathan couldn’t help noticing how lax security was aboard the Rendezvous compared to other vessels he’d sailed on. He just hoped the captain knew what he was about.
The other thing he noticed was the amazing hairstyles some of the Qopa men sported. He’d seen similar styles worn by the warriors back in Levuka, but seeing them up close and personal like this was something else. He smiled at the sight of one particularly short individual who had such a mass of hair atop his head that it gave the illusion he consisted solely of a pair of bare legs protruding from beneath a giant puffball. A younger man’s hair was streaked with almost every color of the rainbow.
Bartering began immediately. Tomahawks, tools, and blankets were traded for fresh fish, yams, and coconuts. One enterprising sailor traded a large piece of bright yellow cloth for some quiet time with a curvy maiden. His crewmates jeered and whistled as he escorted her below deck.
The Drakes looked on disapprovingly. Drake Senior complained to McTavish, claiming the sailor’s behavior set a bad precedent, but the captain could see no harm in his crewman’s actions, and he assured the missionary the precedent for such conduct had been set long ago.
Susannah surreptitiously studied Nathan, who was standing alone toward the stern. The American looked so strong and virile. As much as she despised what he stood for, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. His form drew her to him like a magnet. She adored everything about his looks—the waviness of his long, dark hair, his tanned skin, and his handsome face, but most of all it was his startling blue eyes that aroused her the most. Susannah inwardly chided God for putting such a perfect specimen of a man right in front of her. She knew nothing could ever happen between them, but that didn’t make things any easier. In fact, it made things harder.
Nathan finally noticed Susannah staring at him. Embarrassed, she quickly looked away.
A short time later, giggling alerted those on deck to the return of the maiden and the sailor who had traded cloth for time alone with her. They were hand in hand and she was proudly wearing her newly acquired yellow cloth as a shawl. The pair were greeted with loud guffaws from the other sailors. Only the Drakes seemed unamused.
When t
he trading finally ran its course aboard the Rendezvous, the villagers began returning to the waiting canoe that would take them and their new possessions back to shore.
#
Nathan watched as the schooner’s longboat was lowered over the side in readiness for the Drakes, who, like him, were preparing to go ashore. He then assisted crewmen to lower the couple’s luggage and possessions, and his own carry-bag, into the longboat before climbing down a rope ladder to take his place in the craft. Not one to take unnecessary chances, he carried a musket over one shoulder and wore a pistol tucked into his belt.
Below deck, the Drakes were gathering the last of their belongings. Both were feeling relieved and excited to have reached their final destination. Drake Senior watched his daughter proudly as she collected her things. Over the past six months, she’d proven herself a woman to be reckoned with, surviving a journey that had tested the most adventurous of men. Yet still he worried about her.
Susannah noticed the concern on his face. “What is it, Papa?” she asked.
Drake Senior stood before Susannah and grasped her by both shoulders. “My dear, are you sure this is what you really want?”
Susannah knew, as well as fearing for her safety, her father worried that this was not the life she’d have voluntarily chosen for herself. She desperately wanted to say something that would satisfy him, but couldn’t find the right words. Is this really the life I want? she asked herself. Susannah knew it probably wasn’t. Smiling brightly, she said, “Don’t worry about me, Papa. I am happy being with you.”
Drake Senior hugged her affectionately. “If only your mother could see you now,” he murmured. The thought of her dear mother almost brought a tear to Susannah’s eye. Drake Senior finally released her and, forcing an optimistic smile, said, “Onwards and upwards, my dear. The Qopa of Momi Bay are waiting to be educated in the ways of the Lord!” Without further ado, he led the way up to the deck where they found McTavish and Foley waiting for them.