McDuff was burning with anger, but it was wasted on Vogel who said, “Do you know what the name of my ship means in Latin?”
“Yes,” he said stiffly, “window.”
“The people who launched it thought it would be a ‘Window on the World.’ But here it is bringing food and junk to these filthy islands, year in and year out. But we keep up our spirits because children around the world sing about us in their little music classes...”
He began singing to the two nearest girls, who were now lying on the floor making sensuous movements. The song was one that Dr. McDuff had learned in grade school himself. It was ridiculous that he should be hearing it now under these obscene circumstances.
“A capital ship for an ocean trip
Was the walloping window-blind.
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
or troubled the Captain’s mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow,
And it often appeared,
when the weather had cleared,
That he’d been in his bunk below.
Sooooooooo, blow ye winds high ho,
Wherever you may go.....
Many a stormy wind shall blowwww...,
Ere Jack comes home again.”
Lucille was crouched in front of Reverend McDuff, ready to pounce, when she recognized the possibility that he might do her bodily harm with his knee if she moved another inch toward him.
McDuff’s fury matched that of the storm, as he went back out through the French doors. He did not bother closing them behind him, nor did the people in the house seem to care. He put his head down and walked determinedly toward his church. But in spite of the driving rain he could hear the “best of His Majesty’s breed” singing another chorus.
Chapter 10
At McDuff’s request, Yani awakened him at first light. He needed to catch Vogel before he left. Therefore, he was on the beach when the islanders were taking their morning baths in the ocean. He was still disturbed that the native people made no effort to hide their nakedness, and were quite free in their touching each other’s bodies when they washed off the insect repellent goo. More often than not, he spied sexual play among young men and women in the surf, and on the beach when they emerged from the water. He was on the verge of telling Yani what was on his mind, when he saw his Churchboy frolicking in the waves with a nubile young woman himself.
As he approached the water’s edge, however, he saw the figure of the ship’s purser coming down the path from the Big House with his two rowers. His impromptu lecture to the swimming sinners would have to wait for another time. He had business to transact now or never.
“Good morning, Dr. McDuff,” Vogel called affably. “Did you sleep well? What with all that wind and rain last night, it’s a wonder my ship didn’t blow out to sea.”
“No, I did not sleep well, sir. I spent a lot of time tossing and turning after the shocking display I witnessed at Mr. Thompson’s house last night,” the minister said.
“Shocking display?” Vogel said. “Did something happen that I don’t know about?” He turned to one of the seamen. “Were you two carrying on again?”
They both gave him “Who me?” looks and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I had a bit too much of Jeremy’s Scotch, and I fear I passed out right after dinner. I didn’t hear a thing. Sorry if the lads were a bit noisy. They’ve been at sea too long, and were probably letting off steam. You know how it is.”
Dr. McDuff knew how it was. There was apparently going to be a conspiracy of silence with Vogel as a witness that there was nothing irregular taking place on the island.
Vogel looked around at Thompson’s boxes still sitting in the sand. A few of them were even bobbing in the shallow waves. He called to a couple of Thompson’s boys who were bathing and told them in Booga-booga to collect the boxes, and make sure they were brought up to the plantation.
“It looks like they quit in the middle of the job. The storm must have been worse than I thought. They don’t usually do that,” Vogel said. “How about your stuff? Did you get it all safely tucked away in your church?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, without commenting on Thompson’s abandoned boxes. “I wanted to make sure I caught you this morning to give you my list of needs for the next time. When do you expect to stop here again?”
The purser accepted the list and read it over as he talked. “We take three months to make the circuit. We go to Port Moresby to reload the ship after we finish here. Then we hit a dozen little islands in between. I checked before I left the Fenestra yesterday, and we will be back here in ninety days ... give or take a day or two.”
The officer reached out and Dr. McDuff reluctantly shook hands with him. “I be back then,” he said. “Don’t let Jeremy get to you. He has a tough job, too. But, if you decide to leave with us the next time, I’m sure we can find a cabin for you on the ship. Good bye, Reverend.”
___
Yani stood a good distance away from Big Man Duff and the Witman who came from Kilibob’s ship. They were having a discussion, which he neither understood nor was interested in. The other Witman got into his small boat and his men rowed away from the pier.
Yani stood on the beach for a long time and watched the large ship steam toward the horizon with the same feeling of disappointment he felt when the Wombat left. This time when he heard the deep-throated “Bwaaasppp!” of the ship’s steam horn he knew that it was the voice of Kilibob telling him he would be back another time with more gifts from Heaven.
***
Thompson turned in the direction of the ship when he heard its parting signal. He looked again at the letter from the Headquarters of Pacific Copra Limited that Vogel had given him, and re-read a part of it:
“The investors have a right to see a greater return on the money they have so generously provided you. Your promise to be able to manage the aborigines better than previous managers because you are fluent in their language is, indeed, being put to the test.
“The test results, Mr. Thompson, are expected to take the form of larger quantities of copra. The current market is at an all time high, and need I remind you of the old adage that one cannot do business from an empty cart.
“We have decided to extend your contract by one year from the date of this letter. That extension is based on our trust that you will be able to deliver on your promises and make the plantation profitable.”
He had been miserly with the steel knives and hatchets that the Patrol boat had delivered to him, but he wanted to be sure he was getting all the work he could from his boys before he rewarded them. When the merchandise arrived, he told the native laborers that if they put in three months of hard work as he directed them, each would receive either a knife with a 7-inch blade or a hatchet and handle cast in one piece. Of course, they were all made in Japan and cost next to nothing compared to European or American tools.
The time had come for the payoff. In addition to the obvious lunar calendar, the islanders had come to measure Witman time by the intervals between visits by the supply ship and the Government Patrol boat. They were anxious to get their blades and the status they represented.
Once the ship was out of sight, Thompson called everyone to the Big House. “You don’t deserve anything!” he shouted at the native men in their own language. They were assembled below the verandah, looking up. “You left my goods laying on the beach last night to be washed away in the storm. I’m lucky half of it wasn’t swallowed by the ocean.
“In return, it will be another month before you receive your knives in payment. I want every last piece of wood picked up from the beach, and put in my storage shed before noon.”
His similarity in appearance to Benito Mussolini posturing and gesturing to the crowd below was wasted on the islanders. His attitude and style was much the same as the Italian Fascist leader. He fancied himself a powerful leader of men.
The laborers grumbled among themselv
es. The Witman had broken a contract, an important measure of honor in their tribal culture. The worst part was that they could not take the matter before the elders because the Witman had no responsibility to the tribe. Their response was to not submit. They would not shuffle down to the waterfront to pick up the wood as they were told. Instead, they glowered at Thompson and walked in small groups back to the village to talk about the situation.
***
While Thompson was castigating his employees, Dr. McDuff was reviewing his newly arrived supplies. Yani was still impressed with the quantity and variety of tinkens he took from the boxes. The cans had drawings on paper labels of the animals from which the meat inside had come.
Yani picked up a can of stewed mutton, packaged in Australia, and looked at the picture of a ram on the label. “What is?” he asked, showing Dr. McDuff the can.
Realizing that there were no sheep on Chase Island where Yani grew up, he smiled and told him in Pidgin. “Him Sheepy-sheep!”
Yani’s face lit up with a smile. So, this is the spirit the Witman God uses to know what Blackfella doing, he thought. I wondered what Sheepy-sheep looked like. Now I know.
This in itself was a major spiritual event in terms of his earlier island training. Knowing what a spirit looked like gave you power over him. It was one of the key elements in his initiation to the tambaran.
Now I understand the magic chant: ‘Big name watchem Sheepy-sheep; watchem Blackfella.’ The Pidgin version of the 23rd Psalm had become his favorite prayer.
Big Man Duff says God always sees what the Blackfella does. God sends Sheepy-sheep to watch Blackfella. Sheepy-sheep tells God what Blackfella does. Yani was smug in his newfound power, and felt a thrill run through his body. He tore off the label, and stuck it on a protruding nail above the cans. With an image of Sheepy-sheep, his mastery over this spirit was assured.
McDuff saw him place the picture over the mutton cans and said, “I think you have some real administrative ability, Yani. That way we will know what is on the shelf without having to examine the cans each time.” Since the Churchboy did not understand all the words McDuff spoke, he only knew that the minister was pleased with his progress.
___
When McDuff pried loose the lid of one of the heavier boxes he was surprised to find it was filled with hunting knives. A second crate held machetes; and a third had tools that were a combination of hatchets and hammers. When he checked the manifest, he learned that he had left it to the distribution company’s discretion to define “$200 to be used to purchase assorted tools.” What he had in mind were construction tools, but there were only about a half-dozen each of shovels, picks, saws, and adzes. He had had visions of putting this congregation to work building a church and maybe even a parsonage.
I thought $200 would have bought a lot more tools than this, he mused. The Port Moresby Trading Company may not be any more reputable than their Mr. Vogel ... taking advantage of people like myself who can’t take their business elsewhere. I must talk to Mr. Wembly when he returns.
What Dr. McDuff did not understand was that they saw in him an opportunity to unload a bit of merchandise that was overpriced for the general market. People like Thompson only bought the cheapest grade of tools they could get away with to trade with the natives. The higher quality, English-made knives and other implements had been sitting around their warehouse for a long time, waiting for someone with more money than sense to come along. He suddenly appeared in the form of the missionary on Christ’s Despair.
Yani, on the other hand, recognized the merchandise as Heaven’s finest. He had never seen a machete before he was taken onboard the Salvation by West’s pirates, and there was a great deal of anger and foul language exchanged when one of them carelessly allowed their only machete to fall overboard. Its potential as a tool in the jungle and as a weapon of war was immediately apparent to the Chase Islander the first time he saw it. Now here were unimaginable numbers of them at his fingertips. Actually there were 24, but the island concept of mathematics was literally digital — quantities corresponded to the number of a man’s fingers. A hand of coconuts, for example, was five, two hands of coconuts were ten ... anything beyond ten was simply many.
He told McDuff of his feelings. “Witman God most powerful spirit this Blackfella ever see. Big Man Duff speak best magic. Ooma no have same magic you,” Yani said. He was gradually mixing English constructions into his sentences. If McDuff noticed, he said nothing, Pidgin was such a clumsy language, he was pleased every time he and Yani had a successful communication, regardless of the grammatical details.
“It is not magic, my boy. It is the power of prayer. We ask God in his infinite wisdom to provide us with the things we will need to do his work. When we pray he hears us, and answers our supplications in the best form he sees appropriate.”
Yani liked it when the Big Man used magic words he did not understand. He knew that someday, he would know those words too, and he would have the power to call God to deliver all these wonderful things from the hard-working ancestors in Heaven. McDuff just spoke to Yani as he would to any of his colleagues back home, hardly aware that his vocabulary exceeded that of most white men.
After hours of work, all the boxes were opened and their contents arranged, with the exception of one. Dr. McDuff knew what was in it, and chose to save it for last. It was a direct shipment from Boston, and although it was six feet long, it was lighter than the rest. The two men lifted it onto the table at the front of the church and the minister used one of the new hatchets to carefully pry up the lid.
It appeared to be full of wood shavings, excelsior, and sawdust. McDuff swept the packing materials aside with his hand and the contents were gradually revealed. It was a stained glass window that he had selected himself in Boston before he left. The subject was Christ’s Ascension to Heaven, in which the Savior was rising above the mourners at the cross with clouds at his feet, and a radiance streaming down from above his head.
The minister worked the frame loose from its packing material and dusted it clean with a cloth. Together they took it outside and placed it on a rock so that the sun could shine through it from the rear. It was a breathtaking piece of workmanship. Again, Yani was simply dazzled. There was no end to the marvels that Big Man Duff produced through his prayers to the Witman God.
“Let us pray,” the pastor said to his Churchboy, and they knelt before the stained glass window. “Oh, Lord God, we thank Thee for the gift of food and tools which thou hast bestowed upon us. We pray that You will continue to smile upon our efforts to bring Your Word to the lost souls here. With Your guidance we will change the name of this island from Christ’s Despair to God’s Triumph.”
He stopped for a moment and looked at the stained-glass window. “This is one of the happiest days of my life. To see this wonderful piece of artwork here in the midst of the jungle, shining like a gem on a bed of green velvet. We thank You for Your grace in allowing this token of our faith to have come all this way from Boston without a crack ... without a chip. Help us to make it the centerpiece of our church building that all may be inspired by it. We offer our deepest thanks for this recognition of our efforts to bring Your Word to these souls who have lived in the dark for so many years. Praise be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost, Amen.”
“Amen,” said Yani.
McDuff got to his feet and walked over to the window. He touched the frame and said, “This is what it is all about, Yani. This is a picture of Jesus going up to Heaven after he died and was resurrected on the third day. He went to Heaven, where he sits on the right hand of God the Father. When he comes back he will judge the living and the dead. Those of us who believe on his name will be saved, and will live with him in Heaven for all Eternity.”
“He come back?” Yani asked.
“Yes. He will come back at the Final Judgment of mankind. He will return to us. It says so in the Bible,” McDuff said, holding the book aloft to underscore his words.
�
�We go Heaven, too?” the young islander asked.
“If we accept Jesus Christ as our savior, yes,” the minister explained.
Yani thought about Dr. McDuff’s words. Jesus would come back someday, just like Kilibob. He wondered if the Witmen might not have gotten the name wrong. Maybe Jesus and Kilibob were really the same person.
Chapter 11
Word spread rapidly through the native population that the churchfella had received large amounts of tinkens, and wooden boxes full of mysterious gifts. While Dr. McDuff was praying with Yani, a small crowd had collected in the church clearing to see the stained-glass window. The minister was almost unaware of his curious visitors. When he finally noticed that he had company, he saw the opportunity to tell them what the picture was all about.
“Come, come. Gather around,” he said, gesturing with his arms for them to form a circle about the picture. In Pidgin, he gave Yani instructions to translate his thoughts about Jesus and told him to explain it in their language.
I had better start small, he thought. I can get into the details later on when we establish a Sunday school. He told Yani to say that God lived in Heaven, which is in the sky and a source of great enlightenment. God watches over the world. He pointed out in the glass picture the radiance falling on the figure of Jesus from above.
Yani did his best. “The Witman God is Big Man for all white fella. He live on the Sun.” Remembering what he had learned from Ooma, he added, “Blackfella call him Akambep. He get up every morning and wake his people. He send Sheepy-sheep every day, watch, see what Blackfella do.” Yani nodded to McDuff to continue.
McDuff said, “Jesus was killed and rose again from the dead. He intercedes for the people on earth to give them God’s blessings. This picture shows Jesus going to Heaven to live with his father.”
When John Frum Came Page 10
