“I didn’t take a tub bath until I was 14 and ran away from home. Talk about saving something for a special occasion, water was almost that bad at the station. We had only one well — and the sheep got first call. Here, there’s no end to it. Water comes out of the sky every bloody day. It’s marvelous.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thompson. You’re quite right. You just made me aware of God’s abundant grace. I had been resenting the rain without realizing it. I thought it was a hindrance, now I see it as another blessing.”
“Without it, Dr. McDuff, there wouldn’t be no jungle. These islands would be little deserts in the middle of the sea.
“As to the meat, you’ll get used to it,” he laughed. “I’ll tell the cook to see that we have some fresh meat on the table tomorrow.”
___
The next day, back at the church clearing, the American clergyman became anxious in general, and decided it was time for an assessment of his situation. He constantly rejected Yani’s offers of native fare, and was completely unable to make the cultural adjustment. He ate an almost exclusive diet of canned foods. A visual inventory showed that Yani’s generosity with the tinkens at the opening of the church, combined with the young man’s own appetite was leading to a crisis. Supplies were running low.
Of course, he could not call the Australian Patrol officers to check on the progress of his replenishments of food and building materials. Thompson had a radio, but he said it didn’t work properly and preferred to save it for emergency messages.
The bright spot was that Thompson had promised to kill one of the piglets for dinner, so he took heart in that. He spent the day developing sermons he felt would be suitable for his congregation. He had no idea how much the thoughts that migrated from English to Pidgin to Booga-booga lost in their translation. Although Yani hung on his every word, both men were operating from a different base of cultural understanding.
Toward evening when McDuff arrived at the Big House, Jeeves and the cook smiled at him. Dinner was apparently almost ready, he could see them rotating the carcass of an animal on a spit over hot coals. He had wondered during the day if it would be served with a mango in its mouth, in place of the traditional apple. He went over to the pit to inspect its progress.
Dr. McDuff never made it into the small dining room where his host awaited him. His stone crab salad went uneaten. In fact, Dr. McDuff never ate another meal at the Big House from then on. A closer examination of the barbecue revealed that the fresh meat being served for dinner was on his personal taboo list. He realized that the Australian dingo-type dogs that roamed the native villages were not pets, but livestock.
___
When their work on the church was finished for the day, McDuff and Yani had begun a recurring pattern. The Chase Islander still covered himself with the natural bug repellent every night, as he had since childhood. So did all the natives. In the morning, everyone went for a swim in the lagoon to clean off. It was part of an important social exchange. It was customary for people to tell their dreams of the night before, and speculate on their meaning. It was an important form of community bonding. Yani was sought out because he was a good dream interpreter. He also always seemed to have interesting dreams of his own. Very often, he dreamed about Kilibob and Manup, the brothers whose return was awaited by all the islands.
The effect of this communal bathing was that the people were exceptionally clean. They rubbed each other down with fragrant coconut oil when they came out of the water. This occasioned Yani to tell Big Man Duff that he had a case of “Witman stink.” As he did not bathe first thing in the morning, he had the odor of stale perspiration about him. All Witmen did. The islanders found it uncomfortable to be around him.
But it was out of the question for him to undress in the presence of the natives and join them in the morning, so he opted for the next best thing. He cleaned up the Salvation and took her out into the lagoon each morning. When the white man felt he was out of view of the shore, he stripped down to his undershorts and went over the side for a swim. Afterward, he would tie up at the pier and practice throwing a net to catch fish, as his acolyte had taught him. It was this daily activity that helped McDuff hold on to his sanity when things got difficult.
By the time three months on Christ’s Despair had passed, his canned goods were completely gone. The natives would not attend church without receiving tinkens. McDuff went into panic. When the last slice of bacon from the large supply of smoked pork ran out, the man was nearly in tears. Fortunately, all those summers on Cape Cod in his youth allowed him to at least consider a seafood diet. He and Yani collected stone crabs and shellfish in the tidal pools. He had eaten certain kinds of fruit since his arrival, but the sweet potato-like taro root stuck in his throat.
___
There was no way McDuff could know that the shipment of supplies from Australia was delayed because the island steamer developed engine trouble. That took her out of service for a month. Thompson knew. He had received a radio message to that effect. But since the two white men were not on speaking terms, he took cruel delight in keeping silent on the matter. The Australians were not really worried about the American since everybody knew that no one could starve to death on a South Pacific island.
___
Yani knew that his Big Man was upset with the food situation, although he could not imagine why. There was plenty to eat, and all he had to do was perform the ceremony that would bring a new supply of tinkens full of meat from Heaven. But the ways of Big Men were often strange, and the ways of white Big Men evidently even stranger. The young man was pleased when Big Man Duff addressed the problem one morning.
At the sunrise service, the minister seemed more serious than usual. Yani watched carefully, still trying to learn the ritual. After McDuff had done the preliminaries of the Lord’s Prayer and the meditation under painful facial expression, he prayed aloud and Yani listened.
“Lord we thank you for keeping us alive to serve you in converting the heathen of this island to understand your word. We have tasted the swill the natives eat, and we feel pity for them. I believe I have learned compassion for their sad state. Your church is almost finished but we need food to keep up our strength.
“We need glass for our windows. We need nails to join the walls together. This is not much, but it will be the first Christian church on the island. We beseech you, Oh, Lord, to protect the ship and send it to us with food and our needs for the church. Send us trade goods to help convert the heathen and establish civilization and plantations on the islands. We ask this in the name of your only begotten son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
“Amen,” Yani echoed. Although the prayer had been in English, the islander found that he understood a good deal of it. The Big Man told God to send more tinkens and tools.
Since they were out of nails and other building materials Yani had little to do. But Dr. McDuff had an assignment for him. After he arose from where he had been kneeling on a prayer bench, he said in Pidgin, ”You go top of mountain. Look out to sea.” He put his right hand above his eyes in a sort of salute serving as a sun-shield. Then he cupped his fingers around his eyes like binoculars. “You look. Ship come. Bring food. You tell me when ship come.”
Yani understood. He climbed the steep slope of the tall volcano peak that crowned the island. From the top he had a commanding view of the Pacific Ocean in almost every direction. Unlike the minister, he had little trouble living off the natural foods that surrounded him in the jungle and helped himself to snacks as he climbed — a beetle grub here, a piece of fruit there.
There was a path around the rim of the volcano that the tribal shaman used almost every day, so he walked completely around that. Which direction will the ship come from? Yani thought. Since it will get its cargo in Heaven it will most likely come from the sky. If that’s the case, will it descend slowly from the sky? He remembered how Kilibob’s boat, the Wombat, slowly disappeared over the horizon. Will it come slowly toward us from the horizon like a canoe from another island? Or w
ill it drop like a rock from the sky into the sea?
He remembered McDuff’s directions, and the minor (but no doubt important) ritual he had shown him for searching for the enchanted ship. He made a sun-shield over his eyes with his right hand. Then he cupped his fingers around his eyes like binoculars and looked around the 360 degrees of the horizon.
He stayed on the volcano’s rim all day, watching the fishermen throwing nets in the lagoon, and listening for the kanakas or bushmen hunting for pigs. He busied himself by building a lean-to. He talked to the village shaman when he came for his daily circuit of the volcano just before the afternoon torrent of rain. As usual, Yani slept a good deal during the hottest part of the day, and made another circuit of the rim after the afternoon storm.
At nightfall, he wound his way back down the slope to the church where he found Dr. McDuff eager for news.
“Did you see anything?” he asked.
“I see big water. I see fish-fella ... kanaka hunt pigs.”
“But did you see a ship?” McDuff asked impatiently.
“No see ship.”
McDuff fell to his knees before the altar and motioned Yani to do likewise. “Oh, most merciful God ... He who provided manna for the children of Abraham, hear our pleas. Send us the shipload of supplies we so desperately need. Help us to do your great work of conversion. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
“Amen,” said Yani.
McDuff spoke carefully to his Churchboy. “When you go to bed, Yani, pray to God that the ship comes soon,” and went off to his room at the rear of the tiny church building. When Yani laid down on his mat he tried to re-create the words of the magic chant, but could not get past the first few words —”Owa fada huartin Heaven...”
He gave up and went to sleep with his hands folded on his chest in the approved prayer position. He would have to leave the real work of the ritual of bringing a ship to the island to Dr. McDuff. He was afraid he might make the wrong hand movement or chant the wrong word making the spell worthless.
___
The next morning the sunrise service was performed again. McDuff did his chants and made his mystical body movements. Yani tried to learn what words were being said. He realized that getting tinkens from God wasn’t as easy as he had thought. After the formal appeal for the arrival of the ship was completed, Yani asked, “Big Man Duff teach this Blackfella pray for ship?”
McDuff was surprised. He really didn’t think anyone needed to be taught how to make a personal prayer. “You speak feeling inside heart,” he told Yani. He thumped his chest lightly to show the location of his heart as he spoke.
“No. This fella speak ‘Owa fada huartin Heaven...’ like churchfella speak. Tell God need ship.”
The missionary’s response was negative. “Island fella no speak English. Churchfella make prayer in Pidgin for Blackfella. I teach Churchboy tonight. You speak new prayer next sun-come-up.”
The young man climbed the mountain with a new spring in his step. He liked it when McDuff called him a Churchboy. It was a form of validation he needed, to confirm that he was special. He was excited that he would learn a special prayer tonight. When he reached the summit, he did his ritual for the scanning of the horizon for ships pretending to have binoculars. But there were no ships to be seen. He was sure one would come once he learned how to pray properly. Once the strength of his will was known to God, a ship would come for sure.
When he reported back after dark, the missionary was waiting for him. He reported his lack of success, and they repeated the evening service that followed much the same form as the morning’s. McDuff outlined for God, just what it was He was expected to do. After the “Amen” Yani said, “I speak prayer now?”
During one of the daily downpours, some of McDuff’s papers got wet. Unfortunately, the Pidgin translation of the Lord’s prayer was among them, smearing the ink to illegibility. However, he found a substitute, the Home Church’s official Pidgin translation of the 23rd psalm. By the light of a candle, McDuff sat down with Yani. “Repeat after me,” he said.
Yani did not understand. Pointing to himself and then to his student he said, “I speak ... you speak.”
The minister spoke in his deepest tones. “Big name watchem Sheepy-sheep; watchem Blackfella. No more belly cry fella hab.” Even McDuff had to admit to himself, that was a long stretch from “The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want,” but that’s what the Home Church in Boston said to teach, so here it was.
They went through the whole psalm, and Yani recognized that this was the most powerful chant he had ever heard. It would take a long time to learn, but in its difficulty lay its power. Finally, McDuff reached the saturation point, even if his Churchboy had not. When he called it quits for the night, he said, “You learn one line at a time. You speak “Big name watchem Sheepy-sheep; watchem black fella.” all day tomorrow. He made the magic sign of folding his hands in prayer, and said, “Lord, I ask your help and guidance in making this ignorant savage a God-fearing Christian. Amen.”
“Amen” said Yani.
___
More than a week passed with Yani going each day to the top of the volcano. Everything remained the same except that Yani did his seafood gathering chores at daybreak each day to make sure the missionary had something to eat to get him through the day.
But one morning it was apparent that the monsoon season had suddenly engulfed them. It did not just rain in the afternoon; it rained continually all day. There was a shroud of mist when Yani started up the mountain. When he got to his lean-to, he was literally among the clouds. Visibility was zero. There was nothing to be seen but fog in all directions. He knew there was no point in going back down the mountain just because he couldn’t see anything. Dr. McDuff had nothing for him to do without building materials, so he would only send his Churchboy up the mountain and tell him to wait for it to clear.
With the practicality of his people’s long centuries of dealing with monsoons, he crawled into the relative dryness of his lean-to and lay on his woven-reed mat. At the foot of his bed, he had made his version of an altar, a reed box, surmounted by jungle greenery woven into a cross. He stared at the palm fronds with his hands folded on his chest. He spoke the entire text of what he called the “Sheepy-sheep” chant over and over. The steady hypnotic patter of the rain on the leaf roof lulled him into a deep sleep.
___
His slumbers were suddenly interrupted by a horrendous noise. It was not thunder and not the wind. Yani knew those sounds. This was a long drawn out “Bwaaasppp!” in very deep tones. He rolled out of the lean-to and jumped to his feet. The sounds started again — “Bwaaasppp!” This time it was followed by a very high pitched: “Poot! Poot! Poot!”
It is the voice of God! was his first thought. What else could it be?
“Poot! Poot! Poot!” came the higher noise again.
Terrified, he looked down through the steamy jungle landscape. The fog had thinned slightly, and he could barely make out a huge black and white and red form sitting just outside the island’s tiny harbor. It was barely visible, emerging from the haze.
A final “Bwaaasppp! Poot! Poot! Poot!” made Yani’s thick black hair stand on end. He was thrilled with fear. If he had known the word, he would have called this a miracle. He realized that this was the ship from Heaven that he and Dr. McDuff had been praying for. This was the answer God had sent him for just reciting “the Sheepy-sheep” chant. He wondered what wonders he would be able to perform when he knew the whole thing.
___
He pushed through the underbrush and broke into a run down the mountainside. Surely, Dr. McDuff had heard the noise and would be on the beach. As official Churchboy he wanted to be there when God’s gifts were delivered to the missionary.
As he ran, he began to be angry with himself. After all that waiting, he had been asleep when the great ship had dropped through the clouds from Heaven. He would have loved to have seen whether the huge ship made a splash when it hit the ocean. He
was certain that it had not appeared on the horizon and come to the island gradually. It had obviously sailed down from Heaven on the monsoon winds and the incessant, heavy rain.
He was worried that God would be angry with him for sleeping through it all.
Chapter 9
Yani stopped by the church on his way to the pier, but as he expected, Dr. McDuff was already gone. He found the missionary at the water’s edge, so excited that he looked like he might swim out to the steamer by himself. “It’s here! The ship is here. Praise be to God Almighty, Yani,” he proclaimed when he saw the young man emerge from the jungle.
In mixture of English and Pidgin Yani shouted, “He has answered our prayers. God hear churchfella. Witman’s big canoe is finally here. God answer churchfella prayer. Amen.”
Thompson’s barge was already being paddled out to the freighter. They could also see that a small boat had been lowered from the ship and there were several men pulling at the oars.
Thompson had come down to the pier as well. The missionary was so excited that he forgot he wasn’t talking to the plantation manager. “Is that as close as they can come?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the steamer.
“There’s no channel in the lagoon. They’ll off-load the cargo onto a barge, and then the boys will paddle it in to the pier. That’ll be the purser coming toward us in the dory. He’ll be wanting his money and the orders for their next trip,” Thompson volunteered.
“My Lord. I gave all my money to the Patrol Officers when they were here. I hope they made all the arrangements I requested.”
Thompson left the missionary and walked briskly out to the end of the pier to greet the purser when he stepped ashore. He produced a bottle of Scotch, from which they each took healthy swigs and then passed it to the two sailors in the boat. They spoke in a little huddle for a few minutes, took another heavy pull on the bottle and then Thompson slapped the ship’s officer on the back. When they finished laughing together, the rowers secured the boat.
When John Frum Came Page 8
