by Lance Morcan
The American and Iremaia then negotiated the terms for the forthcoming trade. It was agreed half the muskets in the Rendezvous’s hold would serve as a down payment on the sea slugs. Nathan would unload the muskets before the schooner sailed the following day, and he would stay in the village as Iremaia’s guest until the Rendezvous returned from the western whaling grounds two weeks later. This would allow sufficient time for the harvesting of enough sea slugs to complete the transaction. On the Rendezvous’s return, the balance of muskets would be unloaded. Then Nathan would ship the sea slugs to Levuka and from there to China where they’d fetch extraordinary prices.
As the terms of trade were confirmed, Nathan could hardly contain his excitement. Iremaia had agreed to part with double the quantity of sea slugs Nathan had been willing to settle for. Already a man of means, he was aware he would soon be wealthy enough to retire. Not that he planned to. His dream was to build a trading empire using his own fleet of ships to transport the products acquired in the course of his trading ventures around the world.
“You eat with Iremaia tonight,” the old ratu insisted.
“Thank you, great ratu.” Nathan forced a smile. Even though socializing with Iremaia was the last thing he wanted to do, Nathan knew it would be taken as a slight if he refused the offer of hospitality.
Just deal with these bastards a little longer, he told himself, and the world is yours.
Iremaia motioned to Nathan to follow him. The ratu and Joeli then began walking toward the meeting house. Their guest followed, wondering what Iremaia had in mind.
Approaching the meeting house, Nathan noticed the same enclosed structure perched atop four tall poles that Rambuka had been studying earlier. He guessed, correctly, it was used for storing something. Just what, he couldn’t imagine though he knew it must be of value to warrant two warriors guarding it. There seemed to be no means of access to the structure.
Another huge warrior stood guard at the entrance to the meeting house. He bowed respectfully as Iremaia escorted his guest inside.
The meeting house was unoccupied as they entered, but it quickly filled as matagali, or tribal elders, filed into it. There were no women present and the mood was solemn. Iremaia and Joeli sat down, cross-legged, on a pandanus mat, and the ratu motioned to Nathan to sit on his left. As soon as he was seated, the matagali sat down in a semicircle opposite. Nathan noticed a large kava bowl half full of kava on the ground nearby.
Speaking in his native tongue, Iremaia then welcomed Nathan and explained to the assembled why the vulagi, or visitor, was here. The speech seemed to go on forever. Nathan was learning that, as with the natives he’d begrudgingly traded with elsewhere in the world, the Fijians took pride in their abilities as orators. He hid his impatience.
Don’t you people know time is money?
Among native peoples, he knew, simple introductions could, and often would, take hours.
Nathan’s attention strayed to the shrunken heads and skulls of former enemies adorning the meeting house walls. The young man eyed them nervously. He thought he heard Iremaia mention his name and quickly looked back at the ratu. As before, his attention was drawn to the whale bone pendant around Iremaia’s neck. Five inches long, its dagger-like base tapered to a sharp point. The carvings along its length were so lifelike they almost seemed real.
A boy slave suddenly appeared holding a small bowl. Unlike cannibalism, slavery was something missionaries hadn’t managed to convince the Qopa to dispense with. Slaves were such an integral part of life at Momi Bay. For centuries, they had eased their masters’ workload and had provided the mana, or prestige, the ratu’s position demanded. Nathan guessed banning slavery would be one of the major challenges facing the Drakes.
The slave boy dipped the small bowl into the kava bowl and handed it to Iremaia. The ratu clapped his hands together three times before taking the bowl and draining its contents. He handed the bowl back to the boy then clapped three times again.
Nathan stared at the wooden kava bowl half full of the distinctive, muddy-looking kava that was so popular with Fijian men. Staring at the vile-looking liquid, Nathan realized he was about to have his first experience of drinking it. He’d heard that kava, made from the sacred kava root, featured at every ceremonial occasion throughout the Fiji islands.
The boy filled the bowl again then held it out to Nathan. The American looked at Iremaia, who nodded encouragingly. Nathan tentatively clapped three times then took the bowl in both hands. He studied its contents unenthusiastically. Aware every eye was on him, he gulped down the kava, handed back the bowl and clapped three times again. All except Joeli seemed impressed.
Nathan struggled to keep his composure as the delayed effects of the kava struck him. The vile liquid he’d just drunk reminded him of camel’s piss, or how he imagined camel’s piss would taste.
#
While Nathan was pretending to be enjoying Fijian hospitality, Susannah and her father were settling into their new quarters in the mission station further along the beach. The modest cottage they now called home would be their base for at least the next year, so they were determined to make it as homely as they could.
As they unpacked the possessions they’d brought out from England, Drake Senior told his daughter of his strategies for converting and educating the Qopa. Susannah was crucial to his plans for, despite her tender age, she was an experienced teacher, having taught first-year pupils in a London school for several years. The good reverend was aware Susannah’s colleagues considered her a teacher in the truest sense, in that she inspired her pupils to learn all they could about any and everything.
Drake Senior firmly believed one of the best long-term ways to Christianize native peoples was to educate the children. That was primarily why, after much soul-searching and inner torment, he’d finally relented and allowed Susannah to accompany him to such an ungodly part of the world.
A portrait painting of his late wife caught his eye in one of his travel bags. He retrieved it and stared at the beautiful face in the painting. A shadow fell over the canvas, alerting Drake Senior to the presence of his daughter.
At the sight of her dear mother, a tear came to Susannah’s eye. Looking at Drake Senior, she whispered, “Oh, Papa, how I wish she could be here.”
“She’s here in spirit, my child,” Drake Senior smiled, placing an arm around his daughter.
#
Later that afternoon, feeling excited and more than a little nervous, Susannah wandered alone along the Momi Bay foreshore. She still couldn’t believe she’d ended up on the other side of the world in such an exotic location—somewhere that was totally different from England. It was what she’d always longed for.
Looking around, Susannah took everything in: the palm trees swaying above her, the white sand beneath her feet, the foreign smells, the constant boom of waves crashing on the reef, the exotic birdlife, the majestic, blue hues of the sea on one side and the contrasting lush greenery of the foliage on the other.
The young Englishwoman was suddenly distracted by a dragonfly that hovered in front of her face. She’d seen dragonflies before, but could hardly believe the size of this one. It was all of five inches long.
Up ahead, a man-made pile of rocks rising up out of the sand caught her eye. Then she saw a shock of pink hair behind it. The hair belonged to Waisale, of course, though Susannah wasn’t to know that. He was paying homage to the memory of Sina. Waisale suddenly saw Susannah. The two stared at each other for several moments before Waisale turned on his heel and jogged off back to the village.
Susannah followed at a more sedate pace. She marveled at the zany hairstyle worn by the handsome young man and wondered what he’d been doing at the rock pile. So taken was she by his pink hair, she’d hardly noticed the birthmark on his forehead.
Nearing the village, the sound of traditional Fijian singing and chanting could be heard above the thunder of the distant waves. Susannah saw a large crowd was gathering in the village and wandered ove
r to investigate. The Qopa appeared to be preparing to celebrate something.
As she approached, Susannah studied the villagers. Like all Fijians, the adults were impressive in stature. Tall and heavily muscled, most wore traditional grass skirts and little else. Those related to Iremaia, or who had royal bloodlines, wore tapa, or bark cloth robes and shawls or capes made from the bark of the mulberry tree. The cloth was decorated with symbols in charcoal black and ochre red. Headmen wore robes and turbans made of the same material. The warriors were never without their traditional weapons. Many of the men were tattooed. Susannah deduced they’d make fearsome enemies.
The children ran about naked while the teenage boys and girls wore similar grass skirts to the adults. Susannah was surprised to see even the teenagers were tattooed. She noticed the tattoos had strong sexual connotations—pornographic even. The lewd artwork made her blush.
Entering the village, every child in the immediate vicinity gathered around her, vying for her attention. Susannah was immediately enchanted by their unrestrained joy and welcoming smiles. The children ran excitedly alongside the beautiful white woman, their ranks swelling with every passing moment.
Looking around her, Susannah noticed the children’s enthusiasm for her presence didn’t appear to be matched by the men, who seemed to be glaring at her. She suddenly found her way barred by several strapping warriors. They made it clear that as a vulagi, or foreigner, she wasn’t welcome here. Mystified, she turned to go when Iremaia’s first wife, Akanisi, who was effectively the Queen of the village, appeared at her side.
Speaking in her native tongue, the old woman berated the warriors, saying, “Let her pass, she is speaking for the new god and is here to help us.”
The warriors hesitated then stood aside to allow Akanisi to lead Susannah through. Akanisi led her by the hand into the midst of the gathering. As they pushed through to the front ranks, Susannah saw the villagers were indeed preparing for a ceremony. An old man was addressing the assembled. Susannah turned to Akanisi for an explanation.
“High priest bless this place for new meeting house,” Akanisi whispered in halting English. The old woman told Susannah the corner posts for the meeting house were about to be erected. She wanted to explain that this act had great significance in Fijian society and always warranted a ceremony such as this, but could not express that in English. Instead, she pointed to four large kauri posts that lay on the ground close to the area that had been staked out to accommodate the new structure.
Susannah noted the posts were in fact trees that had been stripped of their bark and branches and cut to equal length. She estimated each one must be fifty feet long. The chanting intensified.
As women began wailing, Susannah noticed Nathan among the onlookers. He’d already spotted her and nodded in her direction.
Susannah quickly averted her eyes, hoping he wasn’t aware she’d seen him. It seemed whatever she did these days, the American was always there, as if trying to tempt her.
Nathan, who had been escorted to the ceremony by Iremaia, smiled to himself. He knew Susannah had seen him.
The two vulagi looked on as four naked warriors stepped out from the villagers’ ranks. The warriors held themselves proudly as they allowed friends and family members to lead them to deep postholes that had been dug to accommodate the posts. The warriors were then lowered one at a time into the holes until they disappeared from view.
Susannah looked to Akanisi again for an explanation of what was happening.
“Our warriors receive great honor,” Akanisi said gravely. Struggling to find the right words, she lapsed into her native tongue. “They have been chosen to support the corner posts to keep them straight,” she explained.
Susannah was pleasantly surprised to find she could at least partially understand Fijian as spoken by a native. Her study of the language was beginning to pay off. However, she was so gripped by the drama unfolding in front of her she didn’t even acknowledge what Akanisi was saying.
As villagers lowered the posts down into the same holes the warriors now occupied, the realization of what was about to happen suddenly struck Susannah. She left Akanisi’s side and pushed her way through the onlookers to look down into the nearest hole where she saw the warrior who occupied it was standing a good ten feet beneath her. All she could see of him was the top of his frizzy hair; his arms were wrapped around the pole, as if to hold it straight. There was barely room for him and the pole.
To Susannah’s horror, chanting villagers began shoveling dirt down on top of the warrior until he was concealed. “Dear God, no!” she cried. Until she was finally pushed aside, Susannah noted the doomed warrior appeared to accept his fate calmly. The same routine was repeated at the other three postholes. Unable to watch the macabre spectacle any more, Susannah turned away.
Sensing the young woman’s discomfort, Akanisi hurried to her side. She could see Susannah was shaking like a leaf. “What wrong?” Akanisi asked in English. “That is ancient custom.” Reverting to her native tongue, she added, “It is a great honor for a warrior to be a sacrifice.”
Susannah shook her head. It was too much for her to take in. Later, she would learn such human sacrifices were common throughout the archipelago and, indeed, throughout the Pacific Islands. Here, it was deemed an honor for a warrior to be chosen to be buried alive supporting the corner posts of a meeting house or any other sacred structure. Such an unselfish gesture ensured the warrior would be rewarded in the Afterlife he believed awaited him in the Spirit Land.
The chanting and wailing had now reached fever pitch. Susannah felt like her head was going to explode. Witnessing these human sacrifices was making her question for a moment just what she’d gotten herself in to. She was aware she shouldn’t judge what she couldn’t fully understand, but she instinctively knew such disregard for the sanctity of human life was heathen in the extreme.
Susannah suddenly wanted to be with her father back in the safety of the mission station. She turned and began pushing her way through the crowd. Behind her, Akanisi watched, mystified, as the young woman fled.
Breaking free of the crowd, Susannah began running. She only managed a few steps before she collapsed onto all fours, sobbing.
What have I got myself into, Lord?
Finally, recovering her composure, she slowly pushed herself to her feet and began trudging toward home. Home. This place didn’t feel like home to her.
As she walked, Susannah became aware she was being followed. Before she even turned around, she knew who it was.
“So now you see these people are animals.”
Nathan’s words stopped her in her tracks. Susannah slowly turned around to face him. A hundred different responses swirled about in her head, but when she did respond, it was from the heart. “No. What I see is a people in need of our assistance.” Nathan smirked. At that moment, Susannah hated him. “Is everything a joke to you, Mr. Johnson?”
“Not at all. It’s just that life is cheap to these savages.” Nathan paused for a moment. Looking at Susannah, he couldn’t help thinking she looked more radiant than ever. At the same time, he became aware he was getting some kind of perverse enjoyment seeing her angry and emotional like this. “Having just witnessed what you have, doesn’t it make you question why you are here?”
Susannah shook her head angrily. He’d touched a nerve, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “To the contrary, it gives me even more determination to enlighten these peoples in the ways of God. Christianity is the light.” Nathan was about to respond when the feisty Englishwoman cut him off. “You are a deceitful man, Mr. Johnson. I’ve been watching how you interact with these people. You treat them like your friends, but secretly you despise them. Your only god is money, and you will sell your soul to the devil in order to get it.”
With that, Susannah turned her back on Nathan and continued on her way.
The American didn’t know why, and he certainly didn’t show it, but deep down he
was cut by her words. He quickly shook his head in disbelief, as if to shake off the affect her words had on him.
Why do I care what a naive young missionary thinks?
Nathan watched Susannah until she reached the mission station where her father was waiting for her. Drake Senior had been watching them for a while. He looked straight at the young American. Nathan noted there was no friendly wave, not even a nod of acknowledgment.
When the Drakes disappeared inside their cottage, Nathan turned and strode back toward the village where he would continue to ingratiate himself with the Qopa. And why not? After all, big riches awaited him.
8
As the day drew to a close at Momi Bay, Nathan wandered around the village observing the Qopa preparing their evening meals. Aware he was a guest of their ratu, the villagers greeted him with smiles. Their greetings were genuine. Word had already spread that the vulagi was bringing muskets to their village.
Nathan forced himself to respond in friendly fashion to the villagers. He viewed this pre-trading time simply as a charade he had to endure.
The American flinched involuntarily as he watched two young men barbecuing a large leatherback turtle over an open fire. Writhing and hissing futilely, the turtle struggled until it finally succumbed to the heat. Nearby, family members roasted a pig in a lovo, an underground oven comprised of heated stones. Nathan noticed an old man tending the pig was using a large bone that looked suspiciously like a human femur.
Nearby, teenage boys expertly split coconut shells on the sharpened end of a stake in the ground. Their mother rebuked them, slapping the oldest on his bare back when some of the milk spilled out of the shells.
Looking around, Nathan observed armed lookouts patrolling the village perimeters. Above them, rain clouds threatened, reminding him the wet season was approaching. Again, he studied the strange structure that sat atop four high poles near the meeting house and wondered what it contained that was so valuable it needed guarding around the clock. A new guard paced up and down in front of it, spear in hand.