by Joanna Orwin
Kai slapped at the insects that hung over them in clouds. The last month of spring was unusually hot, and sweat was trickling off his face to form runnels down his bare chest. ‘Didn’t you once say this was your favourite pastime? Using machetes?’
‘Very funny. This heat doesn’t exactly help.’ Taka glanced up at the small patch of sky that was all they could see from here, thigh-deep in water, black mud sucking at their ankles, hemmed in on all sides by high walls of reeds.
Piko was working with Kota a little further along. He stood up and flexed his cramped hands. ‘Once we’re out at sea and out of sight of land, we’ll probably wish we were right back here, cutting reeds.’
‘No chance,’ said Taka robustly. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure? What about you, Kota?’
The Roto youth had worked steadily on without contributing to the conversation. He just shook his head and smiled. He was nimble-fingered, cutting almost twice as much as Taka, however hard he tried to match his speed. He didn’t seem bothered by the heat or the annoying insects. As he waded by them with an armful of reeds, he nodded at Taka’s hands. ‘You should put Something on those.’
When Kota came back, he was carrying a cut flax blade. ‘Hold your hands out.’ He squeezed the sticky gel from the leaf base and rubbed it gently between Taka’s fingers, the gel deliciously cool on his burning, split skin.
Kai was watching. ‘How come you knew to do that?’ For the Repo people, medicine was Wise Ones’ business.
‘My mother’s our healer.’ Kota turned to Taka. ‘You should apply more gel tonight, and again in the morning while your hands are still dry.’ It was the most Taka had heard him say at one time.
‘Do you know other healing stuff?’ Kai looked thoughtful as he tucked his sweat-soaked hair behind his ears.
‘Some,’ said Kota. ‘Wounds and sprains.’
‘What about illnesses?’ Kai persisted.
Kota looked embarrassed. ‘I learnt a bit from my mother. I’m no expert.’ He picked up his machete and moved away.
Kai waited until he was out of earshot. ‘Doesn’t say much, does he? So he’s a healer. He could save our lives.’
Taka couldn’t resist. ‘Thought you said we were all misfits, of no use to anyone?’
‘Not what I meant,’ said Kai. ‘I’m not denying we probably all have our uses — even you.’
Matu stuck his head through the nearby reeds where he’d been working alone — even though he was Hara — and glowered at them. ‘I’ve been listening to you lot, blathering on. Prove you’re useful by getting back to work.’
Taka glared back. ‘We don’t have to prove anything to you.’
As Matu started to shoulder his way towards him through the reeds, Kai intervened. ‘Let it go, both of you. everyone’s doing their best. This heat’s fraying all our tempers.’ He looked pointedly at Matu’s face, glistening with sweat, his hair plastered across his forehead.
Matu wiped his face on the crook of his arm, then jeered. ‘Toughen up, you two. Whining on about sore hands and the heat like babies.’
Moving deliberately, intent on reaching through the thin barrier of reeds to thump his tormentor, Taka wedged his machete in a clump of rau. Then he remembered what both Kai and Piko had said about not giving Matu the satisfaction. So he fixed him with what he hoped was a scathing look before making himself turn away. He retrieved his machete, then stooped to start cutting again. He sensed Matu was still there, watching him, but succeeded in keeping his mouth shut, his head down. After a while he heard the other youth thrash his way to the far side of the reed bed. He let out his breath in a long, satisfying whistle.
Kai grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’re learning.’
At the end of the day, the reed cutters towed all the loaded moki back through the reed beds then along the river beyond the Hara settlement. Where the river curved and widened at its mouth, the seaward shore of its estuary was lined with white sand dunes. They spread their harvest out along the top of these dunes where an almost constant breeze from the nearby sea would help the reeds to dry. On the way back, the men took over towing the fleet of emptied moki, leaving the Travellers to spend an hour or two practising their paddling technique on the large craft that Taka now thought of as theirs.
Being out on more open water was a welcome relief after the stifling confines of the reed beds. The sun was low in the west, its heat tempered now. The sea breeze lifted the hot, damp hair off Taka’s neck and dried the sweat from his sticky skin. His shoulders swung freely as he paddled in the bow of the moki, the muscles welcoming the rhythmic stretch and contraction that was so different from the cramped slash and tug of the reed cutting. The tall banks of rau slid past as they gained speed. When he turned his head slightly, he could see light pulsing regularly off the water dripping from the paddles behind him, and the river was parting smoothly on either side of the moki’s prow to curve away in a series of ripples.
Matu spent the hour barking orders, his voice rough and unfriendly. Every time Taka was tempted to yell some retort over his shoulder, he managed to quell the urge. Not even the Hara youth’s surliness could spoil his pleasure at being out here on the river in the late afternoon, the moki responding to their growing skill. So every time Matu ordered a change in direction or stroke rate, Taka brandished his paddle aloft to signal acknowledgement, then executed the manouevre smartly, sensing the other three paddlers behind him follow his lead. There might be an element of satisfying mockery in his exaggerated signals, but it would be hard for Matu to fault his compliance with the commands. They criss-crossed the river, gradually moving upstream against a strengthening, outgoing tide.
Just as they came into sight of the landing place, Matu ordered them to rest their paddles. As they slowed and the moki rocked gently on the water, he posed a challenge. ‘Reckon you’re good enough to test your skills in the currents near the bar?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Taka twisted to look at him and saw the glint in his eye. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Those currents are strong. Easy to lose control.’ Matu’s tone became patronizing. ‘On second thoughts, it’s probably too risky seeing the tide’s going out. You lot are still new to this.’
Piko raised his eyebrows. ‘Not that new. Let’s give it a go.’
‘You’ll have to do exactly what I say.’ Matu tapped the steering oar.
‘You’re the boss.’ Kai’s voice was lazy.
Matu looked sharply at him, but Kai gazed back blandly.
‘What are we waiting for?’ asked Taka, enjoying this.
‘Better start paddling then.’ Matu swung on the steering oar and the moki began to turn away from the landing place.
Before long, they were racing back down the river. When they reached the bend just before the widening stretch of water that led to the bar, Matu steered them out into the middle. Taka felt the outgoing tide seize the moki in its grip. Picking up speed, they hurtled towards the river mouth. Now, for the first time, he could see the churning white line of the sea breaking over the bar. He swallowed. They were being carried closer and closer as the current grew stronger. He could feel it writhing beneath them, a water-demon whose muscular force was thrusting the moki sideways.
‘We have to counteract the current!’ Matu shouted from his place in the stern. ‘Switch all paddles to the left side!’
Despite their efforts, the moki was sucked inexorably closer to the bar. The roar of breaking surf filled Taka’s ears. What was Matu doing, taking them this close? They risked being overpowered by the water-demon and its increasing force. If they didn’t turn away soon, they would be swept onto the bar, at the mercy of those thundering waves. He gritted his teeth. Matu was pushing them to the limit, expecting one of them to break, shout at him to turn back. Taka had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. He could sense the determination behind him. The other three were hanging in there, too.
Just when Taka thought Matu had left it too late, he leant
on the steering oar and the moki started to turn. But they were still being dragged sideways towards the bar, even faster now. No matter how hard they stroked, how deep they dug the blades of their paddles, they weren’t gaining ground. Taka concentrated all his effort on keeping the rhythm smooth for the others. If they faltered now, they were doomed.
Matu shouted again. ‘Paddle harder!’
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, they began to claw their way out of the current. They edged towards smoother, slower water. At last the moki began to straighten and point upstream. They were parallel to the bank now, close to the overhanging flax leaves. Taka felt the current release its grip. The bank began to slide past them again. They were moving upstream. They had defeated the water-demon.
It wasn’t until they rounded the bend and were back within sight of the landing place that Matu told them to rest their paddles. For a moment, Taka slumped over his paddle, breathing hard, the adrenalin still pumping. Then he turned and looked at Matu over the bowed, sweating backs of the other three, all of them gulping in air.
The Hara youth met his eye, his face expressionless. But Taka could see the sweat drying on his body. So, he’d been worried for a bit there. It crossed his mind that Matu must know that if the headman found out the risk he’d taken, he would be in worse strife than ever. It hadn’t stopped him.
Taka couldn’t suppress his burst of fellow feeling. He let loose an exuberant shout and felt the grin spread across his face. ‘For a moment there, I thought we weren’t going to make it.’
‘I knew what I was doing.’ Matu fought his own grin, then gave up. ‘Might make paddlers of you after all.’
They cut swathes through almost a hectare of reeds before the Hara headman decided they had enough rau to construct the ocean-going moki. By the first days of summer, the whole settlement was occupied with other preparations for the construction. The estuary sand dunes were now covered with loose piles of reeds that needed turning every few days. As the reeds dried, they were stockpiled under temporary shelters to protect them from rain. It would take a month or more for them all to dry. But there was no respite for the Travellers. Tarapu kept them busy preparing flax for the thousands of ties and plaited ropes needed to fasten the reed bundles that would make up the hulls. They split huge quantities of metre-long flax blades, then tied them into hanks to soak in every available pool.
While the Travellers worked on the fastenings, the Hara men cut flax stalks to provide reinforcement for the reed bundles. Others lopped manu poles from the drier coastal ridges for the platform, mast, paddles and steering oar. Construction materials were stacked wherever anyone could find a space. The women were already weaving flax matting to make sails and a sleeping shelter.
After several more weeks of hard work, the headman decided they should be ready to start building the moki by the longest day of summer. ‘Time to take a few days off. Our moki-building experts need to finalize how we’re going to do this.’
He told Matu to take the Travellers a half-day’s walk to a small sheltered lagoon further along the coast. ‘Relax, catch a few fish. Get to know each other better. Once construction starts, you’ll be busier than ever, doing most of the work on your own.’
The disconcerted Travellers exchanged glances. It was Kai who was bold enough to ask why. ‘I thought we were sent here to Hara so your experts could help build this moki?’
Although Tarapu gave him the sharp look Matu often received, he answered patiently enough. ‘Only the builders of a moki know their craft well enough to get the best out of it. Our experts will do most of the design, and they’ll be on hand for advice. You must learn your moki from the base up — such knowledge may save your lives at sea.’
When Kai nodded and the others murmured their understanding, he dismissed them, saying they weren’t expected back for the next three days.
‘Three days!’ Taka complained to Kai as they rolled their sleeping mats and packed some food. ‘Three days of Matu thinking he’s in charge is more than I can stand.’
‘See it as good practice.’ Kai was unsympathetic. ‘It’ll be more like three weeks once we put out to sea.’
‘Don’t remind me.’ Taka shuddered. Coping with Matu’s overbearing attitude here, where there was some chance of escaping for a while, was one thing. Being stuck with him in the confined space of a moki on the Great Ocean was another. He heard Matu’s hectoring voice outside and gritted his teeth.
The Hara youth was waiting impatiently. When the others joined him, he set off along the track without saying anything. Taka walked beside Kai, consoling himself that at least they were out in the open, away from the dense tracts of tall flax and the reed beds. Here, on the ridge of the coastal dunes, a cool breeze wafted clean, salt-scented air off the sea. Dry sand sifted between his toes, a welcome change from the black swamp mud. He could hear the wild songs of seabirds wheeling above them.
They walked for an hour or more, and Taka began to relax. Maybe a few days out here wouldn’t be so bad after all. Then three figures rose to their feet from a patch of manu scrub not far ahead.
Kai let out a muffled groan. ‘Just what we need — Matu’s thugs.’
The youths swaggered towards them. One of them said, his voice a nasal whine, ‘What took you so long? We’ve been waiting ages.’
Taka saw Matu’s whole bearing change with the arrival of his henchmen. The Hara youth thrust his head forward belligerently and took up a wide stance, legs far apart. He stared a challenge at the other Travellers. ‘You got a problem, my mates joining us?’
Kai shrugged, pretending indifference. ‘Why would we?’
When Matu turned his stare in Taka’s direction, he managed to bite back his response. When the other two also didn’t say anything, the youth grunted and picked up his load, ready to walk on. ‘That’s all right then.’
Kota said mildly, ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
While the taken-aback Matu mumbled names, Taka didn’t bother listening. He saw no reason to go beyond the identifiers he’d already given them — the fat one, the pockmarked one, the smarmy one. The third was the worst, hanging on Matu’s every word as though he was hearing the wisdom of the gods. Taka watched sourly as the Hara youths strolled on, Matu’s voice raised now and full of malice as he made disparaging comments about the other Travellers, his friends guffawing.
Letting the others go ahead, Taka fell alongside Kai. ‘Interesting how he changes when his mates are with him.’
‘You noticed? They certainly bring out the worst in him.’
‘I’m beginning to think it’s all a big act,’ said Taka.
Kai nodded. ‘He seems to need an audience to bolster his ego.’
Taka shrugged. He didn’t Understand. When Matu was able to show off real skill — like the moki paddling — he seemed almost human. There had been more moments when Taka thought he might even grow to like him. Clearly he’d been deluded. Matu was nothing but an obnoxious bully.
When they reached their destination, ignoring the Hara youths was easy enough while they cut flax and made rough sleeping shelters. Taka and Kai were careful to select a spot as far away as possible without making it obvious. They all scattered in different directions to fish, make bundles of dry ti leaves as fuel for their evening fire, or just wander along the margins of the lagoon, enjoying not having to do anything. But it was not so easy that evening, once they gathered around the glowing fire.
Kota shared out the flounder speared by the Hara youths, lifting them one by one from the framework of wet flax stalks he’d used to grill them whole over the embers. He’d just filled the eight flax platters, deftly woven by Piko, when the fat youth intervened.
‘What’s this then? We caught these fish.’
‘Your point?’ asked Kai, as Kota looked blank.
‘We caught them, we eat them — not you lot.’ He looked to his friends for support.
Taka thought he couldn’t have heard correctly. Food was communal, not owned by wh
oever provided it. Besides they were on Hara territory, so these youths could arguably be seen as their hosts and obliged to offer hospitality. Matu was watching, saying nothing, a sly grin on his face.
Piko was the first to recover. He laughed and reached for a platter. ‘You’re kidding — right?’
As he picked the platter up, one of the other Hara youths kicked it out of his hand. The fish ended up in the sand.
Kai tried to put a stop to the provocation. ‘You may have caught these fish, but Taka and I kept the fire going, Kota cooked them, and Piko made the platters. I’d say that gives us just as much right as you to eat them.’
‘You reckon?’ said the youth with the pockmarked face. ‘Matu’s in charge here, so we’re teaching you underlings some respect.’
This was too much for Taka. With an infuriated roar, he flung himself at the smirking Matu. Taken by surprise, the latter was knocked off balance, and the lighter Repo youth succeeded in tumbling him onto the sand. Taka sat astride his chest and pinned his arms down as Matu tried to buck him off. Matu’s companions rushed to his aid. Before long all but Kota had waded in. They fought in a heaving mass of grunting bodies, arms and legs scrabbling for purchase, until they could fight no more. One by one, they extricated themselves and sprawled on the sand, gasping for breath.
Taka sat up and met Matu’s gaze. He watched as the Hara youth felt blood trickling from his split lip and touched it gingerly. Taka’s left eye was closing, and his knuckles were grazed and sore. He ignored the others, who were picking themselves up and cursing softly as they checked out their own scrapes and bruises. He didn’t notice that they fell silent one by one. He and Matu remained where they were, eyes locked.
The tension was growing again when Kota spoke, his voice matter of fact. ‘You lot ready to eat? I can’t keep these fish hot much longer.’
They all turned and looked at him. Kota was squatting by the fire. He’d gathered the platters up out of harm’s way and placed them as close to the embers as he could without charring them. He looked back, that gentle smile lighting up his face.
