Young Dick

by John Jarvis

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The last task that Pania had completed for Richard had been to pack his weapon and munitions into a decorated parcel suitable for a presentation to a Paramount Chief. She had then run away, too upset to say goodbye.

  Richard carried this parcel before him as he approached the former enemies’ village. The tribes’ defeat had been so complete that Richard had encountered no guards or hunting parties until he approached the village’s gates. Here he sat down and waited while confusion reigned within. At times older warriors came to observe him before returning to what Richard imagined was a meeting or perhaps a council. Finally deciding that he was no immediate threat, he was bundled into the meeting-house and sat before the Chief and his advisers. Richard surprised them by asking in their own language if he could explain his presence and they agreed.

  He told his shocked audience of the earthquake and complete destruction of the Pa, of the tribe’s decision to return to their ancestral homelands and his exclusion from that journey. He offered his weapon up as a gift to the Chief promising instruction on its use and advice on how to make gunpowder. Richard glanced at the Tribal Elders and observed that they too had made the connection between the foreign weapon and the Goddess’s response, and they looked apprehensive and concerned. The Chief only looked greedy.

  “What do you want in return for this gift?” The Chief asked bluntly.

  “Food and shelter, Great Chief, outside the village on the headlands so that I may keep watch for the return of my people,” Richard replied.

  The Chief ordered the parcel unwrapped and took up the pistol, marveling at its weight, the finely worked engravings and the exotic woodwork.

  “Your gift is accepted,” he said, and a collective sigh breathed around the meeting-house. Richard relaxed for the first time since his arrival.

  The days dragged into months and Richard completed his side of the bargain by instructing the Chief in the pistol’s use and maintenance. The Chief had a flax holster woven and wore the pistol and powder horns around his massive neck at all times. He looked like a large brown primitive pirate. Piles of sulfur and charcoal grew and were kept undercover, but whatever white powder the Chief’s searchers returned with failed to ignite the mixture. The Chief promised greater rewards and the search continued far beyond tribal boundaries.

  A hut had been built for Richard on the headlands with a wide view of the sea, and food and water were supplied daily. Richard built a signal fire on a rocky outcrop and maintained a supply of dry wood and green for smoke, but it was never used. After six months Richard was in a state of despair and resolved to somehow follow his former tribes’ trek into the interior, but when he searched for a track or evidence of the migration he found nothing.

  Smoke and smell awoke him late one morning. The vile smell was unlike anything Richard had encountered previously, and it caused his throat to smart. He dragged on his shorts and shirt and ran to his signal fire. A large ship had entered the bay, but it was unlike anything he had seen before. At first he thought the ship was on fire, but on closer scrutiny he saw that the fire was controlled and contained in a large iron cauldron – but it was the scene on the shore that attracted his utmost attention. The carcass of a huge whale had been beached and butchers swarmed over it, cutting up the blubber with long knives and feeding it to fiery tripods that gave off the awful smell.

  Gathering at the edge of the forest was a war party from the tribe and they did not appear to be happy. Richard slipped on his canvas shoes and ran for his life to prevent another massacre. With barked shins and welts on his arms he managed to intercept the party before they confronted the whalers.

  “What are these pale ones doing that affronts you, brothers?” he managed to pant. The Chief for some reason was not present and an older warrior answered in his stead: “These giant fish seldom come to our shores and when they do, are treated as sacred. These violators take not what they need for food but burn the creatures and store their essence that is the affront.”

  “Let me talk to them, brothers, I know that they have the powder that is much valued by your Chief, let them pay for their violations with this.” The party nodded agreement at these wise words, mindful of their Chief’s passion for powder.

  Richard stepped out of the forest and approached the whalers, who stopped all activities and snatched up weapons. He took off his once white canvas shirt and waved it at them. “I am English and have been stranded here.” It was all he could think to say.

  “We are Americans, advance carefully or you will end up stranded like this whale,” came the reply accompanied by coarse laughter. Richard kept his hands in sight and walked slowly towards the suspicious whalers.

  “My name is Richard Digby, off the exploration ship Subtile out of London,” he called out.

  “My name is Sebastian Hood, First Mate off the whaler Horizon out of Nantucket Captained by Nathanial Smith; put your shirt on, young man, and advance to join us,” replied a large bearded man with bright blue eyes and missing an ear. The rest of the party smiled and relaxed, and some of them grounded their weapons. Richard issued a warning

  “Keep your weapons at hand mates: there is a native war party in the forest most unhappy with you breaking their tapu and killing their sacred whale, but I may have a way to placate them – at least until we can make it back to your ship.”

  Those that had grounded muskets hastily retrieved and presented them; Nathanial scowled and loosened his pistol.

  “How many of the savages are there, young man, and how are they armed?” Several of his party looked alarmed: they were whalers, not marines.

  “Enough to survive your first volley and club us all to death and they are utterly fearless, but I believe they can be bought off with a flask of powder,” said Richard.

  “Powder? Do they have firelocks then?” Nathanial’s voice carried more than a trace of worry.

  “Nay,” lied Richard, “they like to throw it into their fire watch the flare up and say ‘oooh.’” The party relaxed just a little and some chuckled.

  “Joshua, give him your powder flask. Henry row back to the ship, inform the Captain of the situation and request his orders the rest of you, start packing up, we are close enough to finishing. God go with you Richard.” Nathanial laid a supporting hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard traipsed across the sand and disappeared into the forest.

  “The pale ones are sorry they have unknowingly broken your tapu, brothers, and they offer this powder flask in apology, they will leave the bones, teeth and head of the whale for your people and promise another flask if they can water and leave,”. Richard said, somewhat extending his authority. “It would be wise if the Chief did not display his weapon – they are unaware of its existence,” finished Richard. A runner carrying the flask returned to the village, Richard returned to the shore, and the longboat returned from Horizon.“Captain Smith is pleased to welcome you aboard Horizon, Richard,” ‘and save you from the heathen hell; he is also short-handed,’ Nathanial said to himself. “The Captain also desires, that we take on fresh water and food if the savages are open to trade,” Nathan finished.

  “I am sure another flask of powder would ensure that,” replied Richard, and it did.

  The trade was completed without any contact between the two people. Richard acted as the go-between, guiding the whalers to a fast running stream and the tribes to food consisting of sweet potato, water cress and smoked fish to a clearing near the edge of the forest. Captain Smith generously supplied a small barrel of gunpowder, unaware of the power he was conferring on the Chief, and the Chief responded by gifting the Captain a fine cloak of rare birds’ feathers, a taiha long club and a jade meri hand cub. For Richard there was a sewn-up flax bag.

  “Do not open it until you are far out to sea Rewi, and do it when you are alone: it is a gift of great value,” instructed an old warrior.

  Richard looked at the people who had never accepted him as one of their own but had always displayed courtesy and understan
ding and felt the back of his eyes prickle. He grasped the old warrior’s hand in the way of the pale ones.

  “Farewell,” he said.

  “Farewell,” the old man replied.

  Richard watched the land recede from the deck of the Horizon until it hid behind a white cloud, then made his way to the stern. He had an appointment with the Captain.