Rich Man's Coffin

by K Martin Gardner

  Yes, we chuck him a few of our muskets that have rusted sitting in the hold of the ship. Somehow, he gets them working; and, oh, the sound! Like a child with a new toy, he is. I think he believes himself to be the new God of Thunder when the hammer finally chances upon a spot of dry powder. And then off he goes, to terrorize innocent people. Oh well, at least it can be said that it sends him on his way as quickly as he came.

  What an odd bird, though. He’s a bit old to be running up and down the countryside like a young warrior. I reckon he’s got to be going on sixty or so, which would put him being born right around the time Captain Cook was first here. A shame the good Captain didn’t fire a well-placed shot then.

  Then again, I’ve got to give some credit of intelligence to my dubious mate. He did ferret us out for what we were worth. Weren’t here a fortnight last year when he comes sailing up in his fortress with his hundreds of men. I must admit, it did put me on the ready. They disarmed us straight away though when their intentions became clear. What a riot! They offered up some poor white bugger who had jumped ship years before and been pushed around from tribe to tribe until he had learned to dress and feed himself, but not much else. He wasn’t much good to us with his wits being gone and all, but we took him anyway just to show good will toward the native shore patrol.

  We just wanted them to shove off and leave us alone to bring in the whales, but of course, we treated them as royalty. I didn’t feel good giving them muskets, but I suppose that as long as they are not using them on us, then perhaps we are helping to bring civility to this coast. The Maori are definitely not competing with us on any significant scale for the whale, so I do not consider them a nuisance overall. However, this gentleman may be on his way to wearing out his welcome.

  Perhaps he will be a man of his word and bring The Harper back to me. It is a whim, I know, but I really do not like losing anything of value. We are very busy, and our resources are limited in our short time here. That boy needs to pay for his passage over here before I consider him dispensable. Besides, if what the Australians say is true about his being out in their skiff, he shall be flogged severely.

  Chapter 14

  Kumari and I were walking the sky that night. I was telling her about thunderstorms; and about how the air smelled when lightning came down out of the clouds before it rained. Her love made me feel like I was breathing that air before the storm, I told her.

  We thought it was a whale at first. Bearing down on us, it blended in with the black bay, only the white caps breaking across the bow being visible from the beach. We were celebrating before it came. Before he came.

  Ruaoneone lifted the ban on fire for one night, and look what happened. It was my fault, really. I know now for two reasons my presence shaped the fate of that night.

  If Robulla’s intentions had been known, they would have stripped my soul of its naïve idea of having reached my romantic destiny with Kumari in my arms, along with any notion of a charmed existence with her peaceful and loving tribe. As the looming figure of Robulla’s menacing war vessel glided up to the shore, our music stopped and the mood froze.

  “Dammit, I really didn’t feel like working tonight.” Ruaoneone said to his wife as he dropped his roasted pork leg in the sand. She echoed his displeasure with a grunt and a look of disdain toward the uninvited visitors. The Chief stood up and motioned for the usual welcoming committee to assemble and do their dutiful dance. They responded quickly, not wanting to upset their leader. The women gathered the children and traipsed languidly back to the higher ground of the pa, fearing what may happen following the wero, welcoming dance. “I don’t know what to expect from this joker, so make it a good one, men.” Ruaoneone said.

  Robulla stood upon the bow of his boat and waved a pair of large fern branches, one in each hand. The Maori symbol for a peaceful visit, it put Ruaoneone’s men at ease. There would be no bloodshed tonight, they thought. Robulla signaled his men to remain on the boat. He stepped onto the beach and walked up to Ruaoneone. The two chiefs clasped hands and touched noses. They talked in low tones as the village men milled around idly, awaiting the outcome of the meeting.

  Black Jack observed from a distance, releasing Kumari from his arms reluctantly. As he watched his young lover file up the hill along with the other women, he felt something creepy come over the night. He watched the two chiefs talking, sizing up the unfamiliar, notorious chief. He’s a whole head shorter than my Chief, Black Jack thought. Without boasting, Black Jack told himself that he was at least a head taller than the man, and some forty years younger. Without all those men and a nasty reputation behind him, thought Black Jack, the little general before him would be nothing to fear. His mama had said the same about Napoleon: A little man with a big army and a bad reputation. From then on, he decided, he would call Robulla, The Maori Napoleon.

  Ruaoneone glanced over at Black Jack. He beckoned him over; and the three stood face-to-face. Ruaoneone said, “Black Jack, this is Robulla, the great chief from the North. He comes in peace tonight to ask our help.”

  “Ah, yes, I have heard many good things about you. It is an honor to meet you.” Robulla and Black Jack did the hongi.

  Ruaoneone spoke again. “Black Jack, it seems that Robulla has some official business concerning your ship. Your Captain and the honorable Chief here have been negotiating some rites of passage issues. The issues are delicate and complex; and the Chief would graciously like to request your assistance.”

  Black Jack asked Robulla, “The Captain would like me to return to the ship then?”

  “No, no, son. Nothing of the sort. Your captain has given up hope of your returning from your newfound life here. He merely wishes to see your face and to know that you are getting along. He mentioned that you were in the area; and I told him that I had briefly seen a man of your description. We both agree that you would greatly facilitate talks between your good Captain and me. Don’t you think so?”

  “And I am to sail with you? When will we go, and how far is it?”

  “We will leave at dawn. It is roughly an hour of rowing up the coast to Te Awaiti. My men and I are going to visit some other neighbors tonight, where we will sleep. In the morning, we will land and pick you up. We will have you back by the midday meal. How does that sound?”

  Black Jack agreed. Robulla seemed pleased. He bid his hosts goodnight and set off in his floating fortress.

  As its immense form slowly disappeared around a jetty, Black Jack and Ruaoneone shuddered as if awaking from a spell.

  Black Jack asked, “Do you believe him, Chief?”

  Ruaoneone said, “He came waving the green branches of peace. As a Maori, he is bound by his word to spare us. Obviously, he needs you; so perhaps your help will help us all. Just be careful, my son. I will look forward to your safe return.” With that, Ruaoneone returned to his whare, his hut.

  Finding his way under the soft blanket of his own bed, Black Jack felt the firm, supple, skin of his eager bride. She quickly quelled his fears about the coming day.

  II

  Arthur adorned himself in full Maori dress that morning. He was proud of his new life with his new tribe; and he wanted to show it. If it were true what Robulla had said, then he had nothing to fear from his former captain. Perhaps, he thought, the riches of a successful season, along with the local scenery, were softening the old man. Regardless, he told himself, there was no way that he could return to the ship now, given his present circumstances.

  Robulla’s canoe rounded the rocks just before the sun rose above the hazy horizon. Black Jack stood at attention, a solitary figure. A brazen warrior bronzed in front facing the glittering sea, his solemn silhouetted back appeared black to the flat, wet beach behind him. He threw a hand into the air, hailing the approaching boat.

  Robulla returned a half-hearted wave, avoiding Black Jack’s eyes. “Get in.” He said.

  Black Jack rode silently for a considerable time, standing in the bow just behind Robulla. The Chief turned his head from sid
e to side, as a monarch surveying his kingdom. Black Jack got a good sense of Robulla’s arrogance. It did not bode well. Black Jack did not like being helpless in a bad situation. Helplessness comes before Death, I reckon.

  The day was beautiful. The sky was clear and dry. A light, cool breeze stippled the china-blue water. The odd spout or two of wayward whales gave way to thick, migrating groups of them that clogged the channel. Their bumpy, humped backs bobbed and dipped like pickles in a barrel, bouncing the boat gently in all directions. The whales were inbound, setting off the distant cry of the Lookout and sending men scrambling on the beach.

  Black Jack’s captain was called onto deck as both the whales and Robulla arrived at the same time. The Captain sorted his priorities. “All hands stand fast. Lower the ladder!” he boomed. “Let the shore whalers do their job. You do yours! Harper! What is that ridiculous outfit that you have on?”

  Robulla stepped in front of Black Jack on the bow as he shouted up to the Captain. “Good Sir, do not be too harsh on the boy. We found him in this horrible state in the hands of a rogue tribe just down the coast.” He turned to Black Jack and whispered in his ear, “The captain is upset. He was terribly troubled with your disappearance and he has been worried sick. Pay him no mind. I will handle this.” Robulla smiled and hailed the Captain as he made for the rope ladder. “Good Captain, I have brought you your man, and I assure you that he is in excellent condition. If we can conclude our bargain, then I will be on my way. I see that you are very busy with more important business” He stopped on the top rung to cast a glance at a skiff in hot pursuit of a whale.

  The Captain looked in the direction of the hunted whale. “Ah yes, Robulla. The whales often distract us. Please, forgive my rudeness. Do come aboard.”

  “Do you not think it is a beautiful day, Captain?” Asked Robulla, climbing aboard the ship. “Captain, now that we are out of ear shot of your man, I feel that it is safe to tell you. Captain, your boy believes that he is a Maori now. It is going to take considerable effort on your part to reinstate a sense of discipline in him. I suggest that you take it slowly, for your sake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He is wise in the ways of our warriors now. He could be a threat to your crew’s safety if he is angered. He is like a wild beast now.” Robulla waited for the Captain to peer over the side of the ship before continuing. “Now, my advice is to let me counsel him on what your wishes are and the conditions he must meet before returning to proper service. He is aware of our other deal, so allow me to have the guns now, so that I may show him your sincerity. Once the muskets are safely on my boat, then he will feel that you are receiving him with a forgiving heart. Ooh, look, they’ve got him!” Robulla pointed to a flailing whale as he finished.

  The Captain was distracted momentarily. “Yes, certainly. Show him that I mean business, I mean that I need the business, I mean… need him back!”

  “Yes, yes, Captain, certainly I will help in this matter. I see the crates stacked over there. If your men could just chuck them down to my men, then I will go down and prepare your boy for his return to civilization.”

  The Captain, eyes still fixed on the frantic whale, issued the order for the guns to go down. “Yes, yes, away with the muskets, just as we discussed at morning quarters. We’ve got more pressing business now!”

  Robulla scrambled down the ladder as the narrow, long, wooden boxes were chucked over the side. He spoke quietly with Black Jack while stealing glances at the Captain. As the last of the crates were lowered down, Robulla ushered Black Jack to the ladder and stood there alongside him looking up. He grabbed Black Jack by the nape of the neck. “Right, then, nice visiting with you Captain. We’ll be away now.” Robulla flicked his fingers at his rowers and the great boat set off.

  The Captain of The Elizabeth cast a glance down at the departing boat, then looked back calmly at the jumping whale. Suddenly, he turned and scanned the deck of his ship. Seeing nothing but the sniggering faces of his busy crew, he looked over the rails again. He saw Arthur being led to the back of the boat by Robulla. The Captain yelled, “You there, scoundrel, whatever do you think you are doing? Bring back my Harper!”

  III

  The sound of nails being pried from resinous wood lids, the resonant slapping of pine boards being thrown onto a hardwood hull, and the continuous beat of five-hundred paddles all colluded in a streamlined symphony being conducted down the coast.

  Robulla squinted down the silver barrel of a new musket as he pulled it from a box. “The old man was glad to see you, son.” He said. He pretended to fire a shot toward shore. “Nice.” he said. A nearby oarsman nodded and winked at him. “All right, who’s got the powder?” Robulla demanded. A man rushed forward carrying a small, leather bag. Robulla smiled at Black Jack and then at the coast. He took the sac from the warrior and loaded a charge. He cocked the hammer back, raised the gun, and aimed straight down the barrel. He squeezed the trigger. A beautiful silver cloud with white sparks plumed above Robulla’s head. A hearty blast rumbled over the water. An echo rolled back. Robulla lowered the musket. “They just get better every year.”

  Robulla told his men to throw the crate scraps overboard. He ordered them to load a full shot and ball for twenty-five muskets. “You see, all in a day’s work. And back for lunch, just as I promised.” Black Jack nodded. “I must admit, you are a unique fellow. I have never seen a man speak the white man’s tongue and have such dark skin. How does this come to pass?”

  Black Jack explained how Ruaoneone had given him his name.

  Robulla chuckled. “The first white man at Te Pukatea was black! How about that? That is the stuff legends are made of, I must say. Well now, the Captain called you ‘Harper’. How do you explain that?”

  Arthur told him the painful story.

  “Well yes, subordination can be like that. Just thank your lucky stars that you are free now. But you are quite large and strong to be regarded as a boy. I don’t think that your captain appreciated your full potential as a warrior. My goodness, you are as large as any Maori! You have been a great help to me today. I consider you an asset, and I hope that I can count on you again someday soon. You will make a great warrior, and perhaps even a chief one day. Be my friend, Black Jack White. I will make you into a great Maori chief like myself.”

  “I don’t know.”

  The two men fell silent. Black Jack noticed two objects approaching the boat from the coast. They were smaller canoes. The warriors onboard wore different markings from those of Robulla’s men. Robulla signaled to the boats.

  Black Jack asked, “Who are they?”

  “They are warriors of another tribe. We all train together periodically to maintain good relations.”

  “Do you ever train with Ruaoneone and the Rangitane people?”

  “No.”

  As they approached Pukatea, one of the smaller ships broke toward shore. Robulla signaled again. As the large ship rounded into the bay, the second of the smaller boats continued south.

  “Training is finished for the day.” Robulla said. “Time to eat!”

  IV

  Ruaoneone and his entire village ambled down the hill to greet their guests. The women left lunch simmering underground. They laughed and chatted as they strolled toward the beach. The children scurried here and there, naked and giggling. The young men walked in loud crowds. The elders rallied around the Chief. They all gathered on the beach. Ruaoneone signaled for everyone to be silent. Their Chief smiled and put his hand in the air as a greeting to Robulla. He was so happy that the old dog had mended his evil ways, thought Ruaoneone.

  Robulla raised his hand high in salute. A tense moment of silence followed as the two chiefs locked eyes. Robulla’s smile suddenly faded. His hand came down. When it had dropped, every man in the gigantic boat stood up together. Robulla picked up his musket. Twenty-four of his warriors followed suit. The remaining four hundred and seventy-five men removed their mere, or greenstone blades, from their belts.
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  Black Jack looked around nervously for Kumari. She peered at him from behind her mother, smiling. Oh Lord, no one said anything about a show, he thought.

  Robulla fired the first shot. The musket ball tore through the neck of one of the elder men. A fountain of blood followed the blast. All Hell broke loose. The women screamed and fled in all directions, scooping up children as they ran. Robulla’s men sent a volley of musket shot into their backs. Some fell, and others were spared by the misfires of the first round.

  Ruaoneone and his men were unarmed, save for their meres. Black Jack remained frozen in terror as Robulla reloaded in front of him.

  Robulla and his musketeers fired another round, taking out more women and children, and wounding the advancing men. Robulla’s men jumped from the boat and met Ruaoneone’s men on the sand. Black Jack witnessed the purpose of the mere for the first time. The great, flat battle-axes were wielded with wild chops, not slaps. Black Jack saw men’s skulls sliced open and freed of their crowns and brains with one quick, clean swat. Men from both sides fell like zombies in mid-stride, their bodies sinking and tangling, slumping like dung into mud.

  Black Jack stood in a cold sweat, unable to move. He retched at the carnage, staring wildly at the scene in fear. Robulla and his gunmen fired another round, shooting down countless more. The hand-to-hand combat on the front line strongly favored Robulla’s numbers. Only Ruaoneone and a handful of his young warriors remained in a circle of flailing arms and mere. Robulla gave the signal, and his men stopped fighting. The gunmen and the foot soldiers surrounded Ruaoneone and his men. Robulla yelled a command up the hill. Black Jack recognized several men from the smaller boats that had passed before. They forced the surviving women, among them Ruaoneone’s wife and Kumari, to trudge back down the hill. Black Jack was torn. Several of the men kicked children along. One of the men carried a round stone, a Patu Aruhe. Black Jack recognized it as the fern pounder from his first day.