Rich Man's Coffin

by K Martin Gardner

  Black Jack could only imagine how they were managing to increase their numbers. He felt sickened by jealousy. His cute little plan to fool Robulla had failed, he thought. He was now among strangers having to rule them without his lover by his side. He prayed for strength.

  The warrior continued, “We have heard about your fierceness in battle, and your loyalty to Robulla. We have heard much more recently about the ‘Black Giant’ who fights with the rage of ten men. It will be an honor to serve you.” The other warriors moved closer into the circle and hailed Black Jack with cheers of support. The other villagers crowded around.

  Here I am again, Black Jack thought, the reluctant hero. His heart ached for Kumari, but he put on a brave face. He knew that any plan of action must begin with biding his time here until the right moment. Fate, he soon found, had oddly tossed him a conciliatory bone. As he looked around the crowd, he saw her, the woman from the grog shop. She had moved south with her tribe after Robulla’s raid.

  She came to him now. With a look, he knew that she would suffice as solace during this painful and poignant period spent pining for his preferred princess.

  Chapter 15

  Arthur pushed his chair back from the dinner table and looked around. He wondered if he should finish his story in front of the Judge's children. The Judge perceived his concerns and pointed them out of the room. The three children departed obediently for bed.

  "I wasn't sure if I should continue. I am becoming quite personal with my tale. It is probably boring you senseless. I shall go."

  The Judge's wife entered the room with a pot of tea and poured her husband a cup. "I didn't miss anything, did I? Black Jack, cup of tea?"

  The Judge motioned for her to sit down. "No, no, Black Jack -- I mean Arpur -- was just about to continue. Please go on. I have the day off tomorrow, right dear?" He moved his face into the light of the oil lamp, illuminating his eyes.

  Black Jack said, "Those years were not my own. I felt as if I were someone beside myself. My mate was a small comfort to me. I pretended to love her, yet all the while, my heart yearned for Kumari. I thought about her constantly. My pain did not subside. It merely dried and crusted like a wound. A thin scab had formed on my soul. I shielded it well, hiding it from anyone who might start my heart bleeding once again for all to see.”

  "To my credit, I did run the tribe quite well. I buried myself in the business of being Robulla's authority. The villagers respected me. It was only a phantom existence though. I was like a ghost walking through life without really touching or feeling anyone or anything. I told myself that it was a part of growing up. As long as I went through the motions of day-to-day living, then everything would be all right. Work would get me through, I told myself. That is how I survived.

  "Ironically, my reputation was that of a vicious warrior. Everyone feared me. Inside, I was a broken man. I tried and convicted myself of crimes that I had been talked into committing. I was a ball of confusion and resentment, yearning for vengeance. It was my struggle with those evil desires that eventually broke my will completely, and set me on a course that would go beyond my hatred for Robulla. Strangely, I hoped that it would set each of us free from our spiritual bondage.

  "In the meantime, I came to be known by a name which I forbid anyone to use. Sadly, I had earned the name through my own actions. I heard them in distant circles calling me Bloody Jack. It was meant as a Maori compliment, God bless them, but it dogged me like a stain. It was one more cheetah's spot on the thin and tainted skin that I had come to wear. I decided to make the best of my self-imposed sentence and take advantage of my ruthless reputation. As a reformed cannibal, I began a campaign to win my peoples’ affections: Not craving their hearts in a literal sense, but turning them against Robulla. It was a valiant and simple plan."

  II

  One night after a tribal wedding banquet, Black Jack posed a question to everyone. "Did you enjoy our little celebration meal?" There was a unanimous and positive response from the villagers. "Good! That is Robulla you are eating." Everyone gagged and gasped. "I am only joking. Ask yourselves this though: What if I weren't?" People resumed talking, visibly agitated. Soon they settled back into the festive mood of the evening and moved onto other topics. But Black Jack knew that they were all digesting his suggestion, even if they had not taken the time to completely chew its ramifications.

  For days following, Black Jack fielded questions from all walks of the tribe. Some such as the elders asked about his stunt. Others waited until an opportunity arose to beg his pardon and ask if he minded explaining his intentions. Questions ranged from whether he actually wanted to defeat and eat Robulla, to whether or not he was feeling well.

  None of the guesses hit the intended target. Black Jack had not expected them to get it right the first time. If it was that easy, they’d figure it out themselves, he thought. One day after many weeks had passed without mention of the incident, a young boy brought up the subject out of the blue. While preparing for her wedding, the youngster's sister had jested with him about 'eating Robulla' at the ceremony. The comment had disturbed the young boy. Even at the age of seven, he was very familiar with who Robulla was.

  He walked up to Black Jack during an elder's meeting and asked, "Are we going to eat Robulla?"

  Black Jack tenderly asked the child, "And what makes you so concerned about this, young warrior?" By this time, the boy's mother had approached to retrieve him.

  The child responded, "Because my sister is getting married and she says that we are going to eat Robulla." The shock of the boy's naïve audacity caused his mother to gasp in embarrassment, and this reaction drew the attention of many more onlookers. They focused on what their chief had to say.

  Black Jack said in a serious tone, "No, my son, we are not going to eat Robulla." The crowd that had gathered now seemed to expel a sigh of relief. Then Black Jack's face lit up. He said smugly, "Well then, we shall eat your sister instead!" The crowd reacted in horror at his words and welcomed the fleeing boy into their arms. They stared in disbelief at Black Jack.

  One man spoke up, "Why do you torment the little boy, my Chief?"

  Black Jack responded confidently, “Drastic times call for drastic measures."

  The man shot back, "Perhaps I might understand if I knew your point. I don't understand why you must make it by using a child's innocence."

  Black Jack replied, "If the simplest arguments cannot be made with the simplest people, then they do not hold much water. Wouldn’t you agree?"

  The man reluctantly nodded. He asked, "But why all of this talk about eating people? Are you trying to tell us something?"

  "I am not trying to show you anything that is not already right before your face."

  "Is it about our eating flesh? Do they not do that where you come from? It is our tradition. It is a very sacred one, which has much spiritual meaning. We do not expect you to fully understand."

  Black Jack said, "A spiritual tradition. That is fine. Then what will you eat when there are no more bodies? Where will the spirits live then?"

  "Why does it concern you so? It is not as though we are eating our own people, as you seem to suggest. We eat those slain in battle. It is an honorable thing."

  "Ah, but are not all tribes under one people, the Maori? If you were vast in number like the Pakeha, perhaps then you would have the luxury of eating all of the people that you desired. But you know that the Maori are dwindling. Believe me, I know this. The white men are great in number, and they will come here. Most importantly, they don't eat their own kind, nor will they eat you. But, you can rest assured that they may kill plenty of you, just as they killed the red man."

  "That is well and fine; but like I say, it is our tradition. It is the way we have always done it. We don't expect you to understand it."

  "I understand that it is a reckless and dangerous tradition. I can think of nothing else that threatens the survival of your people more. Killing is one thing. But killing and eating? That seems to me to
only further fuel your lust for blood. And you say that you are not eating your own tribe. Well with such small numbers of Maori left, if neighbors are eating neighbors, then why not eat yourselves? Go ahead and take the next step! All traditions have a beginning: Go ahead and start your own!"

  The man and the villagers looked at Black Jack with disgust, pity, confusion, and awe. Most thought that he had gone mad. The subject was not broached again for some time, although many secretly discussed the issue among close friends. For some, the question was as simple as why does a bird fly or why does the sun rise? For others, the question seemed similar to asking, why does a green branch symbolize a peaceful visit? The open debate sparked healthy controversy within the village without undermining Black Jack's authority and the trust of his people. He continued to enjoy a peaceful reign over the tribe. The people were understandably confused, though, how someone that they knew as Bloody Jack could question their sacred cannibalism.

  III

  Months passed and a new year came. January brought one more Summer and a bittersweet anniversary. He reflected fondly on Lalani and the child that would be grown into a small child by now. Black Jack lamented his broken promise. He mourned the fact he might never know his child’s birthday. His partner here had not conceived. He had not wanted her to, because he did not lover her in that respect. He still longed for Kumari. His burning love for her drove his thoughts and actions everyday, and that gave him the will to carry out his plan.

  Life within the pa had settled into a peaceful routine. For a time, there were no marauding Maori or wayward white whalers. Te Pukatea remained tranquil and serene, and everyone seemed happy. Regardless, restlessness about Robulla’s possible return remained.

  The worry was well-founded. In a land that was mostly free of natural threats and disasters, the fear of the roving butcher filled in for the dread usually reserved for incidents such as earthquakes and floods. Such was considered the magnitude of the destruction that he brought. Maori knew not the perils of venomous snakes, poisonous spiders, crocodiles, wild cats, and the like. Robulla ruled supreme above all lethal things. Treachery graced one side of the sword, while merciful Death graced the other. There was another trait which Black Jack set about to exploit next.

  At the tribe's mid-summer feast, much food was prepared and many celebration rituals were performed. The occasion was large, with much festivity. All the traditional native items were on the menu, except for the neighbors.

  Spirits were high and hearts were light. As the tribe began to eat, someone joked with Black Jack that Robulla was not being served. Everyone laughed. Black Jack suddenly turned serious.

  He said, "Ah, but what if he were to return and make a feast of you all?"

  The banquet crowd fell silent. Everyone looked at one another as if to say, Oh no, here we go again! The kidder begged forgiveness from Black Jack. Black Jack was not appeased and he seized the opportunity to debate the delicate matter throughout dinner and well into the night. Black Jack asked his tribe if he thought that Robulla was loyal to them. This brought an uproar of objection at first, but the copious food and drink calmed the crowd. After a time, some expressed that they did not feel entirely safe as Robulla's subjects. But why ask, and what is the alternative? They demanded. Are you attempting to undermine the man who put him in charge? Are you afraid of him, after all he has done for you?

  There was now so much excitement and agitation surrounding the subject, that Black Jack laid it to rest for the night. Inside, he was pleased that he had accomplished what he had set out to do. He had planted another seed in the minds of his followers that would continue to grow. He planned for it to have the opposite effect of the pounds of pork, potatoes, and seafood that were settling in their satisfied stomachs and seducing them to sleep. They would begin to question Robulla’ place as a protector, and see him as a potential problem. Just as the magnificent Black Whale migrated south to spawn in their beautiful waters, Robulla would someday return north along the coast to Kapiti, Black Jack assured himself. Robulla will get his just desserts, he thought.

  Revenge was not the way, Black Jack thought. He certainly possessed the anger and desire to destroy his adversary, but Black Jack would pursue a higher goal, he told himself. He knew that killing Robulla outright would only destroy any possibility of learning Kumari’s whereabouts. Plus, he had no desire to eat the old chief. Black Jack hatched a subtler plan. It would require intricate planning, he thought. It is one thing to kill a man outright in battle, and another thing completely to surprise and capture him when he is surrounded by his own army. A surprise attack requires readiness and preparation. More importantly, it dictates that one know exactly when one's enemy is approaching. Black Jack had no idea when Robulla was coming. Plus, Black Jack did not know if his own warriors would be willing to cooperate. He decided that one more convincing argument and a fine tuning of his plan should do the trick.

  IV

  Months passed without incident or sight of Robulla. This period of peace served as a time for Black Jack to educate his people, and a time for the teacher to further enlighten himself. He became like a cloistered student at a great university. He did not have to work to survive. He was at liberty to sit and think all the time. All his meals were provided, and all his needs were generously attended to. He was exposed to and learned many new things. He had found himself in charge of a school without rules or regulations. Black Jack had thought about many things on the ship, but he was always distracted by work.

  Here at the pa, nothing interrupted his thoughts. There was no threat of being called a daydreamer by a superior officer. Black Jack was the supreme commander. Rather than wield his authority like a Genghis Khan, he became more like Buddha, spending his days in meditation and contemplation. Eventually, he had devised the perfect solution for Robulla.

  One day, the peace was disturbed by news from the north that a white man's ship had been shipwrecked on shore by a storm. The word was that a less peaceful tribe than Black Jack's was in the process of harassing the survivors and looting the ship.

  Black Jack remembered the Maori living in peace with the white man back at the whaling station. He knew that that was not always the case, however. He did not know who started the violence in times when there was trouble between Maori and Pakeha, but he wanted to find out first-hand.

  Black Jack gathered a group of his warriors and set out for the shipwreck in his canoe. He had a general idea of where it was; and he knew that he could get there in a day. Traveling up the coast, his party soon encountered the delicate outline of the shore that curved in and out intricately to form a maze of sounds along the top of the South Island. He knew they looked like fingers on a map. The tightly folded pattern of the bays made for slow going, as it significantly added to the length of land that they must sail by. Eventually, they came upon the broken and battered barque.

  Black Jack ordered his canoe beached out of sight of the stranded sailors to be safe. He and his men saw a group of white people on the shore. The badly bashed bulk of the boat lay strewn in shallow water. Black Jack led his men along the edge of the bush to a closer viewpoint. Much cargo had been dragged from the ship and opened along the beach. The group of whites now huddled among the pillaged crates, burning a pile scrap wood for warmth. They all looked despondent and fearful, except for one. A large, burly, black-haired man paced boldly back and forth, keeping watch for attackers. Near him were a woman and two small children.

  Black Jack recognized him as the man from the whaling station. It was Jackie. Black Jack wanted to wave and shout out to him, but not in his full Maori garb. It was an odd spot. He wanted to help without starting a fight. Besides, he hadn’t brought enough men to fight the other Maori.

  Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes startled his group from behind. Several Maori warriors from another tribe appeared and made their way toward the beach. Before they got far, Black Jack called out to them.

  "You there, what are you doing?" Black Jack demanded. They
were all out of earshot of the whites.

  The other warriors whipped around. Their leader said, "Who are you and what business is it of yours?"

  Black Jack replied, "We are from Te Pukatea. I am the Chief there, and these are my warriors. We have come to help the white men who are in distress."

  The warrior responded, "Well, go home. This is our territory, and what these Pakeha have is ours. We have come to kill them and take what is left."

  Black Jack said, “You will do no such thing. Let these people go in peace. They have done nothing to you. If you harm them, believe me, you will have more trouble than you can imagine.”

  The warrior said, “Ha! From you? We will kill you and eat you for supper. Now go, before you anger me further.”

  Black Jack said, “My son, I am a chief, and I could kill you so fast with my greenstone, that I could cut out your heart and eat it while you watched the last beat. Now do not anger me. I have told you what I want. Go and tell your chief that these people are not to be harmed. Is that understood?”

  The warrior glared at Black Jack. He slowly signaled his men. The party retreated. Black Jack and his men looked upon the pitiful mob on the beach. Satisfied as to their safety, they rowed for home. It would be a long time before Black Jack learned their fate.

  V

  Back at the village, Black Jack began to think seriously about his fate. Seeing the vulnerability of the whites on the beach that day had caused him to question his bizarre situation in this remote and exotic land. He felt that he had matured enough to handle such a life, but he had grown up quickly. He wondered if anyone else had a similar experience, with so much responsibility in such a strange situation. He thought about Robulla, and how their two destinies had become intertwined.

  The shipwreck reminded Black Jack of Robulla’s inevitable return. His sense of urgency for devising a plan of action against the murderous chief increased. Black Jack considered posting lookouts from his tribe to give early warning from down the coast. Thinking harder, it did not seem practical; because he knew that the chief moved faster than any word of mouth or running messenger. When Robulla comes, he thought, he will speed swiftly up the coast and strike without warning. Either that, or he will cruise right on by, back to Kapiti, not to be seen again for years. Black Jack could not afford to have that happen, he thought, before finding Kumari’s whereabouts.