by Cowley, Joy
The chief turned to Luisa. ‘Be in peace, old woman. I don’t accept their judgement. It’s not the boy. I’m as convinced of his innocence as you are, but for his safety and for the sake of the people, he must leave here as soon as possible. Last night three elders came to me, men who had witnessed Tasiri’s death. They wanted a promise. Jonasi must go at once, they said. And I agreed. I told them I’d give an answer this evening.’
Luisa began to cry. She imagined the Silent One stoned out of the village, sheltering in the mountains, dying alone and uncared for. ‘Where will he go?’ she wailed.
‘To the special school for the deaf children at Sevu.’
‘But, Ratu, they didn’t send a letter.’
‘I am sure they will take him,’ said the chief.
‘He has no way of getting there. The copra boat doesn’t come for many days. It mightn’t come at all – ’
‘Hush, woman, there’s no need for alarm. Last night was not all sadness. Aesake brought good news from Ramatau. Food is coming to the village. A government man follows the hurricane and writes letters about the damage to King George in England. The King sends ships to the island.’
‘England is far away,’ said Luisa. ‘By the time the ships arrive, Jonasi will be dead.’
‘No, Luisa, not on those ships. He’ll go tomorrow morning in the boat of the government man. As soon as the government man is finished here, he leaves for Sevu. Jonasi will be with him.’
‘Tomorrow!’
‘Keep him safe until then,’ said the chief.
Luisa didn’t answer. She was crying again.
‘Isn’t it true that you have a married daughter in Sevu?’ said Vueti.
She nodded.
‘Then you will go with Jonasi. Take your son Samu and stay with your daughter until you can come back on the copra boat. It’s best that you, too, be out of the village for a while.’ The chief turned to Aesake. ‘And you,’ he said.
‘The people wouldn’t dare hurt me!’ said Aesake.
‘I don’t send you for that reason,’ said his father. ‘We’ve had no word from the deaf school, so you will need to speak to them for me. You know Sevu, and you know the school.’
‘Yes, Father.’ Aesake grinned. ‘It will be good to see Sevu again.’
‘Until you leave, you will help Luisa look after the boy. See that he comes to no harm.’ The chief looked towards Jonasi who sat so still he could have been a carved figure in the corner of the room. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ he said. ‘Is he sick?’
‘He is heavy of heart,’ said Luisa. ‘The poor boy, the madness of the people gives him sorrow.’
Aesake looked at Jonasi. ‘I think it’s because the turtle has gone. No one’s seen it since the hurricane – unless you believe what they say about Tasiri’s death. Jonasi’s been looking. I’ve watched him. And I know from his face he hasn’t found it.’
‘I am glad,’ said the chief.
‘He no longer searches,’ said Aesake. ‘He does nothing. He lies on his sleeping mat, staring at the wall. Or he sits on the beach, running sand through his fingers.’
‘Perhaps the creature is satisfied and will now leave us in peace,’ said the chief. ‘Aesake, the boy will wonder why he is here. Take him away and try to make him understand where he is to go tomorrow. But stay with him at all times, do you understand? I would talk with Luisa alone.’
Aesake bowed and moved backwards on his knees until he was beside Jonasi. Then, together with the Silent One, he crawled out of his father’s house.
The chief spoke with gentleness to Luisa. ‘Wipe your eyes, old woman. It is only caution that makes me speak of the worst. Don’t worry. For your peace of mind I’ll see that nothing happens to the boy. I’ve not forgotten, Luisa. You’ve given life to many foundlings in your time. When my mother died, you nourished me as though I were your own son. I often remember that the Silent One was fed on the same breast that once nurtured Taruga Vueti. By giving Jonasi his life, I pay you back for my own.’
Luisa rubbed her hand over her face. ‘Do we have to go so soon?’
‘If Jonasi stayed here, I could do nothing to help him. The people must have their will. Do you know what would happen if I opposed them in this? They’d elect another chief, and Jonasi would die.’
Luisa was silent. Then she said, ‘The government man may refuse to take us.’
‘Aesake says the man has a big mouth above his red beard, but his head and his heart are good. I don’t ask for his charity. I’ll make him many gifts for the promise of a safe journey for the four of you.’
‘The people will forget,’ Luisa said hopefully. ‘When the food arrives, they’ll say the evil spell is broken. They’ll be glad. They’ll laugh again. They’ll stop talking about the Silent One, and I can bring him home.’
Taruga Vueti shook his head.
‘But the special school didn’t send a letter,’ said Luisa. ‘Perhaps there’s no room for Jonasi there – ’
‘Luisa!’ interrupted the chief. ‘You must not bring the boy back here. If the school can’t take him, he’ll have to stay with your married daughter in Sevu. Not here. Be sure he does not return to this village.’
Luisa took a deep breath and let it out with a heavy sound.
‘Yes, Ratu,’ she said.
As usual, she was left with a feeling of helplessness. Her efforts always seemed futile and did no more than exhaust her. She was like a foolish bird that flapped frail wings at the sun in an attempt to move it off its course. She was old. She was tired. She had struggled long and hard to keep the boy, but now, after it all, she was losing him.
She bowed as low as she could. ‘I’ll prepare for the journey,’ she said.
Chapter 11
The Arrival of the Redbeard
At the top of the beach, Jonasi stopped and looked towards the hill of death, which stood to one side of the village. A group of people were decorating a new burial mound with shells and flowers that they carried in green palm baskets. As they placed their offerings on the mound of white sand, they swayed against each other, opening and shutting their mouths in such a manner that the air seemed alive. Jonasi could feel it throbbing like a pulse-beat against his skin.
He would have stood watching but Aesake took him by the arm and dragged him away.
It was Tasiri’s burial mound. Jonasi knew that much, although he didn’t know how Tasiri had died. It had been too sudden for illness. An accident of some sort. Whatever it was, he was sorry. Several times he had dreamed in anger of killing Tasiri, but these pictures had gone quickly from his mind, and now that the man was dead, he could wish him alive again.
He let Aesake lead him along the beach.
For some days now, Jonasi had given up all hope of seeing the white turtle. It had gone. He had hunted for miles around the coast, swum in all the usual places, but there had been no sign of the turtle since the hurricane. Perhaps the storm killed it. Perhaps a shark, perhaps a man. Thoughts of its death brought a pain too great to bear, and Jonasi would change them quickly to a picture of the turtle swimming safely in some far-away ocean.
He shaded his eyes and looked across the flat, grey sea. But Aesake was at his side again, closer than a shadow, urging him back to work.
Since early morning they had been trying to repair an old canoe made of two sheets of iron. The hurricane had left it twisted in the branches of a mango tree. They’d got it down, carried it to the beach, and were trying to straighten it, beating out the dents with wooden clubs. It was slow work. Each time Jonasi’s club fell against the iron, the air trembled and small hermit crabs scuttled down the sand to the sea. His hands were blistered. His back ached. But he was glad to be working with Aesake, grateful for the friendship Aesake was offering.
Yesterday, when they’d been admitted to the presence of Taruga Vueti, Aesake had deliberately made a distance between them, setting Jonasi in the corner like a prisoner or a slave. Since then, however, Aesake had been closer than a brother – too cl
ose, at times. It was a nuisance having Aesake go with him everywhere, but it was also a comfort.
They hammered at the canoe until the sun was in the middle of the sky, shining like flame on the water. It was much too hot to work. Aesake threw down his club and pointed out to sea. Jonasi looked up quickly, thinking of the turtle, but Aesake was watching a boat.
It was a launch, smaller than the copra boat, painted red and white. It came towards them through the sun-struck sea, a strange and sudden thing that trembled in the heat as though it were unreal. Jonasi had never seen a launch before.
He looked again at Aesake and realised that his friend was not surprised. Then he understood why Aesake had insisted they repair the old canoe at the beach instead of in the village. Aesake had actually been waiting for the boat, and from the smile of pleasure on his face, it was clear that the launch carried good tidings.
Jonasi looked along the beach at the people who ran down to the water’s edge, laughing and pointing. Some of them had been at Tasiri’s death mound only a short time before. Whoever or whatever the launch had on board, it had to be of great importance.
Jonasi sat in the sand with Aesake, watching while the boat came in like a swimming seabird, swiftly, smoothly, to an anchorage offshore. He could see three men on the deck. One, an Islander in a bright blue shirt, stood by the anchor chain. Two others, one dark and one white with a hairy face, were getting into the boat’s dinghy.
In spite of all the good feeling on the beach, Jonasi felt uneasy. Something about that red and white launch threw a chill over him. He didn’t know why. He watched the two men row into the shore. They had no weapons. Their faces returned the smiles of the people, and the one with the beard was waving.
Jonasi shrugged and pushed aside his suspicions. In his separate world there were so many unfamiliar happenings that he had learnt to accept events quickly and without too much concern.
The dinghy scraped on the sand, and the white man got out. Half a dozen people rushed forward to help the other man pull the small boat up on the beach.
Taruga Vueti was there, holding out his hand in friendship.
Jonasi had never seen such a big Englishman, nor one with so much hair on his face. He was almost as wide as he was tall, and when he moved his mouth, his bead bobbed like red seaweed in the tide. The man behind him was an Islander but not from these parts. He wore a shirt, blue printed with white flowers, and like the man still on the boat, his hair was clipped short against his head.
Aesake’s hand was under Jonasi’s elbow, urging him to his feet. Jonasi stood, but as he soon realised what was intended, he pulled away. He stared at Aesake. His friend smiled back; and there was nothing but good in his eyes. Jonasi relaxed. He let Aesake take him by the arm and lead him to the Englishman.
As the boys approached, a shudder went through the crowd. Children who’d been playing in the sand drew back against their mothers, and in a moment all smiles had disappeared. People no longer looked at the Englishman but at Jonasi, and their faces were full of fear and loathing.
Jonasi had seen it often before, the way people backed away from him. If he’d been on his own, he’d have retreated, gone off somewhere by himself. But Aesake was holding his arm and walking fast, almost dragging him across the sand.
When they came close, the people panicked and ran. Like a flock of birds they scattered, stumbling, bumping into one another in their haste to get as far away from Jonasi as possible. By the time the two boys were standing in front of the strangers, only Taruga Vueti remained with them. The others were back from the beach, watching from the shelter of the palms.
The Englishman greeted Aesake as though he’d known him for a long time; but while he was shaking Aesake’s hand in the English way, his face was worried. He glanced several times at the now distant crowd. Then his blue eyes, like the eyes of a pig, slid slyly to Jonasi, and his red eyebrows came together in a frown. His mouth opened and closed above the beard. His hands made shapes in the air. He and Taruga Vueti were arguing about something.
Jonasi was glad when it was all over and the chief was leading the visitors back to the village. Aesake stayed behind, but the rest of the tribe followed Taruga Vueti and the strangers. In a short time the beach was peaceful again. A breeze blurred the footprints on the sand, while out across the water the boat lay at anchor, rising and falling gently on the tide, like an insect on the chest of a sleeping man.
Jonasi nudged Aesake and pointed towards the canoe, which still needed many hours of work before it could be used. But Aesake shook his head and put his hand to his mouth.
Hunger. That was something Jonasi understood. Grinning, he rubbed his stomach in answer, and together they walked back to Luisa’s bure.
He could smell the food before he reached the doorway, but he wasn’t prepared for the feast the old woman had laid out. There were shrimps boiled in dalo leaves, sweet raw fish in coconut milk, corned beef, freshwater crayfish, yams, tapioca and bananas.
These dishes were special even in times of plenty. How had Luisa managed to prepare them when food was so scarce? Bananas. And he was sure there wasn’t a dalo leaf left this side of the mountain. Was all this to do with the strange Englishman?
Jonasi stared at the bowl Luisa had pushed into his hands, then looked at Aesake, who was eating so fast that his cheeks were blown out like the sides of a puffing fish. What did it matter where the food had come from? It was good, and he was hungry. He sat beside Aesake and ate quickly, holding the bowl out to Luisa every time he emptied it. Juice ran out of his mouth and dripped on his stomach. He wiped his fingers in his hair. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten so well.
It wasn’t until his stomach was swollen with contentment that he realised that Luisa wasn’t eating. She sat on her sleeping mat with her arms folded, her head down.
Ashamed of his greed, Jonasi gave her his bowl. She wouldn’t take it. He took her hands and tried to close her fingers about the dish, and he thought how old and thin she had become.
She turned away from him. The bowl dropped, spilling across the floor, as she threw herself face downward on her mat. She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook.
Jonasi felt in the air the same trembling he’d experienced that morning, a rising and falling, like the breathing of the sea against his skin.
He stood still in amazement.
Luisa was mourning for him.
Chapter 12
A Time of Farewell
Luisa’s wailing brought Samu running to the bure. He saw Aesake leaning over the old woman and saying, ‘Hush, hush!’ and Jonasi standing beside them.
‘What’s wrong?’ Samu said.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Aesake. ‘If we’re not careful, she’s going to spoil everything. Look. You take Jonasi outside, will you? Try to make him understand that we’re going to Sevu.’
Samu led Jonasi out into the sunshine.
Aesake knelt and spoke to the sobbing Luisa. ‘Stop it, old woman. Hush now, do you hear? You frighten him. When you make a fuss, he thinks something is wrong.’
Luisa rocked her head in her hands. ‘Aaiieee!’ she moaned. ‘My little Silent One!’
‘If you don’t stop that noise, I’ll send for my father!’
At once there was a silence. Then came a long, wet sniff as she turned her head towards him. ‘When I leave him in Sevu I’ll never see him again,’ she croaked.
‘Don’t speak such foolishness!’ said Aesake. ‘He’s only going to school. Come. Dry your face and put on a smile for him, or you’ll undo all my father’s plans.’ He helped her to sit up, soothing her as though she were a fretful infant. ‘The boat leaves at sunset. We haven’t much time to get ready.’
Luisa looked at him with tearful eyes. ‘I had a dream last night, an omen – ’
‘That’s enough!’ said Aesake.
‘I did,’ she insisted. ‘Aesake, something’s going to happen to him.’
Aesake sighed. Poor old woman. Two m
onths ago she’d been full of life, stout and strong of mind, a sharp tongue in her head. Now she was a mere shadow, all skin and bone and fear.
‘Do you know what’s ailing you?’ he said. ‘Your brain has grown thin from starvation. Why don’t you eat? You’ve lost so much weight you rattle like a handful of shells every time you move.’ He set the rest of the meal before her. ‘Here, this food was a present from my father to all of us – and that includes you. You insult him if you don’t eat it. Fill your mouth and put happiness in your stomach, then perhaps your face will learn how to smile again.’
Without another word, Luisa began to eat. Aesake, when he was satisfied that she wasn’t hiding the food away for Jonasi or Samu or her married daughter in Sevu, went outside.
Samu was squatting on the ground, drawing pictures for Jonasi with a sharp stick. Now he wiped his hand over the outlines and said to Aesake, ‘I can’t explain it to him. He doesn’t understand.’
‘Did you draw the boat?’
‘Of course I did. But how do I explain that he’s going on it to Sevu?’
Aesake looked at Jonasi’s frown of concentration. ‘Wait here a moment,’ he said to Samu.
Within seconds Aesake was in his bure, kneeling in front of the old tin trunk he’d brought back with him from the mission school. The lid had rusted and most of the contents were powdered with red dust or mildew, but he found what he wanted. He ran back and spread a faded picture in front of Jonasi. It was a large photo of the main street in Sevu, of trading stores and many people, horses, and bicycles and, in the lower right corner, a motor car. He knew Jonasi had seen the picture before and he watched for recognition.