by Carlos Eyles
He stripped down and she stood back observing the whiteness of his skin gleaming like burnished ivory in the dim moonlight. Reaching for his hand, she led him into water that felt warmer than the water of day, thicker and more alive. Fears of deadly creatures in the night ocean stiffened him. Feeling his tension, she pulled firmly on his hand.
"Come," she said, "behind me. I make the way."
Her voice was gentle, reassuring, and her hand was hot in his and he could not have said no. They came to the high coral and she laid him flat on his stomach and they floated through the barriers of fire and knives of stone out to water where they were able to tread and swim. Almost immediately, he had the overwhelming sense of being trapped, for he couldn't possibly find his way back without getting savagely cut on the coral. Sinaca swam with powerful stokes some distance away. The moon had risen over the jungle and reflected brightly across the water. In its light he saw her dive beneath the water and waited for her to reappear. After an interminable wait, tightness grew in his chest and bloated to a terror which began to well in his stomach. Something very large and swift moved in the phosphorescent water and was making its way toward him. With shattering clarity he realized that he had been lured into this night water by design, and Moses’ words of caution rose to its full impact with an unremitting terror. Images of the Sea God flashed before him and he could almost feel its horrifying presence looming just beyond his vision, moving towards him. He attempted to contain his urgency and turned easily for the shore. He swam with fluid strokes and through enormous restraint didn't yield to his panic. However, despite all his efforts it continued to rise and lodged in his stomach and from there began to consume his body like a creature whose hunger could not be satisfied. He swam faster while at the same time his body was squeezed in constriction, a frightful noise escaping his throat as he began to thrash towards the coral reef line. He scarcely hesitated at the scalloped wall and pulled himself up and over it, hand over hand, half swimming, half crawling, dragging his stomach, chest and legs over the high places, feeling the heat of the cuts but never once stopping. Coral broke in his hands and salt water burned as though grasping branding irons fresh from their pyre and still he pulled himself along. Finding footing in waist deep water, he tried to run ashore, his legs and shins banging into low lying coral. He fell into a hole and rose again and fell into another before reaching the flat rock near the shore where he struggled onto the high ground breathing in heaving, frantic breaths and half-collapsed on the sand. His stomach felt warm and sticky and then set ablaze, as did his arms and hands, feet and legs. He had not been on the beach for very long when Sinaca was at his side, bending over him.
"What have you done, Keli?"
"I... I thought there was a shark."
"You are cut from the coral." She rubbed her hand across the cuts and shook her head in anguish.
"I know why you do this, Keli. I make you cut yourself very bad. I am hurt with you."
She placed her hand on his face and turned it to hers. She kissed him on the mouth. Her lips were warm and had the bittersweet taste of seaweed. He pulled her to him and she gently pushed away from his grasp.
"I must go, Keli."
Picking up her clothes, she reentered the sea, swimming to the reef's end and went west. Compton lost sight of her when she dove. From far away he thought he heard an exhale that sounded very much like a dolphin.
32
Moses found Compton feverish beneath the netting. The tee- shirt he wore was stained through from the weeping cuts and had fused to his chest, his bare legs and feet looking as if they had been dragged over broken glass.
"What is this, Keli? What happened?!"
Moses lifted Compton's shirt and broke the skin, causing Compton to grimace in pain.
"I went swimming with Sinaca a couple of nights ago and I... I thought I saw a shark and panicked," confessed Compton, and then explained the story in detail. When he was through, Moses removed his cap and wiped his brow.
"You did the right thing, Keli, but look at you. You are hot in the body. We better take you to Dilolomo. She fix you up."
“No, no, I’ve got some serious infections. I need antibiotics. Take me to a real doctor.”
“No antibiotics on this island. That medicine at the hospital on Taveuni. But the doctor there is very bad, he only make you sicker, maybe even kill you if you give him the chance. Dilolomo see this kind of infection all the time, she fix you up.”
"I don't want the village to see me like this. They'll know I was scared and panicked."
"They would understand. They fear Sinaca's power, they would have done the same."
"Moses, I' done some thinking. It was hard for me to believe Sinaca has been given supernatural power by the Sea God, now I’m not so sure. I know it's your explanation for the unexplainable. Still…”
"You have been thinking again, eh, Keli. That is always dangerous for you."
"Moses, you’re the one who put this in my head but I'm not blaming you.” Then, almost to himself, “I did this."
"Come, we go to Dilolomo. We go up the river, go in the back way."
Moses loaded Compton in the boat and headed west. They passed the resort and stayed to the far shore of the deep bay across from the village. The mouth of a small river appeared at the apex of the bay where it curved in towards the land. They slowed at the mouth before edging into it. Moses stood in the stern looking for rocks and trees that broke the water intermittently as they pushed forward into a mild current. It became dark beneath the growth of trees that arched over the river and the song of birds filled the tunneled void, all but drowning out the sound of the engine. Mosquitoes descended on the boat like a moving cloak, drawn to the smell of blood that had seeped through Compton's shirt. They whined their virulent hymn en masse around his head and settled in droves on his bloodied shirt. He was too weak to wave them off and watched them suckle at the portent of a full meal that leeched through his shirt. In his detached state, he noted that a two-dollar bottle of insect repellent was all that stood between him and madness. They ducked under low hanging branches and wove their way deeper into the darkness. A half mile upriver, Moses turned into the west shore and ground the boat into the mud. He jumped ashore and held the boat for Compton, who struggled weakly through the mud and up a slippery embankment.
"Watch for the vines and roots, this trail is very thin," cautioned Moses.
The jungle was dense and inhospitable but beautiful in an evil sort of way, observed Compton through his delirium. Oversized, barren coconut trees abounded and stood like shrouded stick-men guarding the portals of hell. Cerberus-like boulders stood by their side, hunched, moments from springing into an attack, while succubus yellow and black butterflies dried their moist wings on red vampire-flowered bushes. Scarcely a trail existed, the low brush and vines like bony fingers clutching with every step, causing Compton to stumble and quickly exhausting him. Moses slowed the pace and hacked away at the undergrowth with the cane knife to make the way easier.
They came to the tall tree whose roots towered far above the ground. Moses snaked his way beneath the roots and Compton blindly followed. They broke out into a clearing where the old bure caught the sparse light of the high sun. A half-dozen chickens pecked among an assortment of plants growing in pots and pans that littered the open spaces away from the jungle.
"Wait here," instructed Moses, who called into the open doorway and then entered. Hushed voices filtered out the door. Moses reappeared and motioned Compton to enter.
There were no windows in the darkened hut and Compton sat next to Moses as instructed by hand signal. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, a figure materialized against the far wall, a woman, very old with stringy white hair curling in tendrils about her head. Beads of light came from her eyes, which were nearly hidden in folds of wrinkled skin. She spoke to Moses in Fijian, who then instructed Compton to lie upon a rough-hewn table on his back. When he had done so, the woman leaned forward and gently pul
led the shirt from his stomach and chest as he grunted out a stifled cry. Lifting the shirt over his head, she lightly ran her spider hands over the deep cuts that were fired and swollen with pus. Moses cringed in sympathetic pain. Dilolomo extended her tongue to Compton indicating what she wanted him to do. She examined his tongue carefully then felt his pulse in three different places on his right wrist and three different placess left wrist. Again she spoke to Moses and then left the room.
"She goes to take the plants to use," explained Moses.
Dilolomo returned with a set of leaves and crushed them loosely onto Compton's chest, stomach and legs. Without preamble she began to rub vigorously. Compton was unprepared for the excruciating pain that lanced through him and involuntarily pushed her arms away. She spoke in a soft tone to Moses who bent over and pinned Compton's arms at the wrists.
"She say you must not touch when she do this. It is painful, eh, but it must be done."
Again she rubbed hard and again the pain shot bolts of white light through his eyes and into his brain and he bit down to keep from screaming. She reopened the cuts and they freely bled. Her hands and arms becoming red with blood as she worked her way down his body to his feet. He was bathed in blood and sweat that dripped to the table where mosquitoes lapped at it like ravenous bats. When she was done, his body quaked in spiked pain with every heartbeat. Soon, however, the sharp spasms were relived by a warm numbness that was not unlike soaking in a hot tub of water. Dilolomo produced a white powder from a leather pouch and sprinkled it liberally over each cut. When she was through, Compton was white from chest to toe. She instructed Moses to stay with him for two hours and not allow him to move. Then she left. Compton fell asleep and when he awoke Dilolomo was sitting beside Moses whispering something to him. She motioned Compton to rise and gave Moses more of the white powder and a bag of herbs for a tea that Compton was to drink twice a day.
"How much do I owe her?" asked Compton in a voice that was remarkably calm and reflected his present sense of wellbeing.
"You pay her what you can," advised Moses, "but do not overpay or you make the insult."
Compton gave her twenty dollars Fijian, looking at Moses, who nodded in approval.
"Ask her when I can go diving again?"
Moses conveyed the request and she responded in a gentle, detached voice.
"She say that you must stay out of the water for two weeks. Let the medicine do its work, eh. If no infection comes back, then you go into the water."
The fever abated in two days and there were no signs of recurring infection. Moses visited Compton every day for a week, bringing dinner and making tea.
Sitting shirtless at the table, Compton lightly fingered the scabs on his chest and belly. “Last night I dreamed about Sinaca again. She won’t leave me.” He paused. “I don’t want her to leave me, even though something about her terrifies me. Still, I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Moses shook his head in mild frustration. “What are you’re thoughts?”
“I don’t know, they are like fantasies I play out. Us diving together, making love, just hanging out with her here on the beach.”
“More wishes, eh?”
“Yeah, wishes.”
“There is danger in such wishes. Be careful with Sinaca.”
“Yeah.” Compton’s eyes and thoughts had drifted out over the sparkling blue prairie, his fingers unconsciously drifting across his scarred chest and belly. A tender spot awakened him from his trance. "I don't know what she used but that was one hell of a quick recovery. What was that medicine she put on me?"
"Dilolomo is amazing, eh. No one asks her about the herbs to clean the wounds but there is a special leaf to heal you proper. Are you strong enough to go to Somosomo tomorrow and fix up with the sergeant, get your spear back?
"Sure. You think the sergeant will have found out I was lying?"
"The sergeant knows everything. It's his business, eh. He is the boss of Taveuni.”
“Maybe I can kerekere him."
Moses laughed uproariously. "That would be the true test, eh, to kerekere the sergeant. I think he would put us in jail for that one."
"I thought kerekere worked on everybody."
"Not on the sergeant."
33
The sky was overcast and the air heavy. It felt like rain but Compton sensed it would clear and did not bring the rain poncho. He wore long pants and a long-sleeved shirt to hide the cuts and the running shoes he had worn when he first arrived. Moses picked him up midmorning.
"You looking like a tourist again," teased Moses. "You wear your sun glasses and a big hat and you right there."
"Maybe the sergeant won't recognize me and I'll skate right through this inquisition."
Passage across the strait was uneventful and they anchored in the sand in front of the Indian store. The bus with the maniacal Indian at the wheel nearly ran them down but the ride to Somosomo was without incident. A striking Indian girl came aboard bearing beautiful, soft brown eyes with incredibly long lashes and long, black silky hair braided down her back. She had a perfect body despite her effort to conceal it in a full dress. Compton nudged Moses when she passed.
"You can forget the Indian girls. They are all virgins. They do not leave their families for love or sex. Their marriages are planned. It is a poor way to go about life, eh. Hard enough to make a plan for a day but to plan marriage for life is lacking in sense. Besides, none of them know how to screw."
"How would you know?"
"That is what their planned husbands say. I have no knowledge of it myself. It is probably why the men look at the money instead of the woman. It is a fair punishment, eh."
Compton looked out the window for a moment, then turned to Moses. “Is there any way a man can love the Sea God and not die? I know I should forget about her but I can’t.”
Moses shook his head ever so slightly and was about to reply. Instead he pointed to the sea and a small boat with two men standing precariously in the bow and stern holding hand lines. “The fishing is poor closer to town,” was all he said.
They arrived in Somosomo and walked up the hill to the police station.
"I go to the post office," said Moses. "You come for me when you're through."
"Why don't you come with me? Are you trying to avoid the sergeant?"
Moses looked off, working his jaw muscles and Compton could almost guess what was coming.
"Have you done something," asked Compton, "or are you just paranoid?"
"What's that, paranoy?
"Nothing. Are you afraid of something?"
"The sergeant believes that I steal boats. Every time a boat is stolen in Taveuni he comes to my house. It is because of the boat that I bought which was stolen. He and the judge never believed me. If it is in their mind that I am guilty, then I am guilty, eh. I would not help you with the sergeant."
"Okay, I'll see you at the post office."
Compton walked to the police station wondering if Moses was or had been a thief. A fairly new engine sat on the back of his boat. Perhaps that was stolen. Surely the boat was his or, if he had stolen it, he had done it confident that the owner would have no interest in reacquiring it.
The deputy gave Compton the same line of inquiry he had heard before but he answered no questions and said he would wait for the sergeant's return. Within minutes the sergeant arrived, bristling and preoccupied, slamming the door to his office behind him. He was every bit as imposing as Compton remembered him but now the circumstances were different for he knew these people could easily recognize dishonesty and any form of chicanery, never mind weakness and fear. Just the sort of traits policeman prey on.
"You come see the sergeant," announced the deputy, motioning Compton into the office.
Compton was nervous. He didn't have the resources to bluff his way through. The sergeant was too canny for that. If he knows I didn't go fishing, projected Compton, which I'm sure he must I'll tell him my plans changed, I'll tell him...
&nb
sp; "Bula" said the sergeant, offering him the chair that faced his desk. As Compton sat down he handed ove his passport, which the sergeant received somberly. After examining it for a moment he looked up at Compton and back at the passport, then broke into a broad smile that revealed crooked, stained teeth.
"Ah, the man who saw the Sea God on Qamea," he said.
Compton nodded warily, "Yes."
The sergeant stood and extended his hand.
"What can I do for you, my friend?"
"Ah, well, I was coming to extend my visa for six months," said Compton, wiping a sweaty neck with his hand.
The sergeant looked at the visa and shook his head. "I can't do that. You have been here already two months. I can make it four months, then you must get a special permit."
"That seems fair enough. That would be fine," replied Compton, smiling now.
The sergeant stamped and signed the visa. "You will be staying on Qamea, on Moses’ beach? No more fishing trips?"
Compton nodded in acknowledgment of the sergeant's imperial command of the comings and goings on his islands. "No more fishing trips."
"You going to spear the big wailu, eh."
Is there no end to this man's wealth of information, thought Compton. "Yes, I'm going to spear the big wailu."
"Io, good luck." The sergeant handed back the visa and shook Compton's hand. When Compton was at the door the sergeant said, "And say Bula to my friend Moses, who is at the post office."
Compton did not reply but lifted his hand in a gesture of weary acceptance of the sergeant's limitless reservoir of clairvoyant data.
Moses and Compton walked down the hill together.
"You were right, Moses, he knows everything, absolutely everything. It’s scary."
"Yes, isn't it."
"He knew about the Sea God and about the mackerel. He even knew you were waiting at the post office.
Moses grinned. "I think he knows that I pissed on my foot last month."
"Does he tap into his intuition like you do when somebody needs a fish or when you know it will rain?"