The Cloud Leopard's Daughter

by Deborah Challinor

  They faced each other, turning in a slow circle.

  ‘Did you touch her?’ Tahi demanded.

  ‘What do you think I am?’

  ‘A lying, stealing arsehole. Did you?’

  ‘Only when I had to.’

  Tahi didn’t believe him. ‘She was drugged, you filthy bastard.’

  Israel stumbled and righted himself. ‘I swear I didn’t. Ask her.’

  ‘She wouldn’t know.’ Tahi adjusted his grip on the knife. ‘Why, Israel? Why did it have to be her? She’s mine. She always has been. Was that the reason?’

  Israel sneered. ‘You’re so bloody arrogant. No, it was her. I’ve always loved her, ever since Melbourne. And I’ve had to watch the pair of you flirting with each other for nearly ten bloody years. It’s just about made me sick.’

  Tahi took a step closer: Israel moved back. ‘Well, bad luck. It was me she wanted, not you. Why didn’t you find yourself someone else?’

  ‘God, you’re stupid. I didn’t want someone else. I wanted her.’

  Tahi shrugged, which seemed to enrage Israel. He lunged at him, his knife slashing at the air where Tahi had stood a moment earlier.

  ‘Were you ever my friend?’ Tahi asked.

  ‘“Were you ever my friend?”’ Israel repeated in a silly voice. ‘No, not really. But it was the only way to get close to Amber.’

  ‘She didn’t particularly like you, you know,’ Tahi remarked. Amber hadn’t told him that, but she’d never said she was terribly fond of him either, and he knew that saying so now would provoke Israel. ‘She only put up with you because we’re the same age. She thinks you’re a fool.’

  Israel risked a desperate glance across at Amber standing between her mother and father. ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Well, you must be. How did you think you’d get away with abducting her? Where did you think you were going to go?’

  ‘England.’

  Tahi snorted. ‘And what did Amber think about that?’

  ‘I hadn’t told her yet.’

  ‘You don’t think she might have been a bit homesick for everyone? Especially me, her husband.’

  ‘You’re the fool. There wasn’t going to be any “everyone”. I was going to tell her Longwei had killed you all.’

  It took a moment for Israel’s words to sink in, and when they did, the magnitude of what they meant took Tahi’s breath away. Stunned, he slowly straightened from his fighting crouch and stared at Israel. ‘But . . . that would’ve destroyed her.’

  ‘No. She’d have had me.’

  ‘You . . . lunatic!’

  In a fit of cold rage, Tahi launched himself at Israel, but Israel was ready. He sidestepped and Tahi’s knife flashed past his ear. He responded with a swing of his own and also missed, Tahi ducking out of the way. Again they faced each other.

  Israel lunged forwards with a great backhand sweep of his arm, which Tahi blocked, using his knife against Israel’s forearm as though he were striking with the long edge of a patu. The blade sliced into Israel’s flesh and his arm flew upwards, releasing his own knife.

  Tahi grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to within kissing distance.

  ‘Do you have anything to say before you die?’ he asked.

  Israel’s eyes were wide, his breath short. ‘Tell Amber I—’

  Tahi didn’t want to hear the rest and stabbed him in the heart before he could finish.

  Israel sank to his knees, black blood pumping down his chest, then tipped over onto his side. ‘Tell her I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

  Tahi wiped the blade of his knife on the grass, and walked away.

  Part Three

  GOING HOME NOVEMBER–DECEMBER 1863

  When I am dead, my dearest

  Chapter Thirteen

  The return voyage south was reasonably uneventful, bar high winds, big seas and blinding rain in the Solomon Seas, but the Katipo sailed neatly through the heavy weather without sustaining damage. Wing and Ka, however, were horribly seasick for the first week, and the other women aboard were kept busy mopping faces with damp cloths, washing bed linen (always a performance when the Katipo was under sail) and rinsing out sick buckets. The crew used their down time during the first day or two to put the finishing touches to Tahi and Amber’s cabin, so that by the time the ship had reached the Philippines, the couple were enjoying the luxury of a double bed.

  Or at least they should have been.

  On their first night at sea they’d fallen into bed exhausted and gone straight to sleep, but the following night Amber brushed her hair until it shone like treacle, put on her prettiest sleeveless white voile nightgown and waited in bed for Tahi to come off his shift on deck. When he had, however, he sat for half an hour in the mess room talking to Mick and Pierre, and when he finally came in she could smell booze.

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a bit of whisky.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I felt like it,’ he said, kicking off his boots.

  ‘Oh.’ She was surprised. He hardly ever drank for the sake of it. ‘Well, come on then, hurry up and hop in.’

  ‘Christ, Amber, wait a minute, will you?’ he said wearily. ‘I’ve only just got in. I need a wash. I stink.’

  Blinking at his mild rebuke, she drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them, watching as he stripped off his jacket and shirt. Catching her gaze, he turned his back, which stung her even more.

  He poured too much water from a ewer into a bowl, swore as a roll of the ship spilt some over the rim, and splashed about with a piece of soap.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Amber asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Amber knew this was a lie. He’d been touchy and out of sorts since he’d killed Israel, which she expected was a good enough reason. After all, for the last six years he’d thought Israel had been his best mate, but best mates didn’t go about stealing your wife, did they? Privately Amber thought Israel must have been fond of Tahi at least some of that time. Who could keep up such a pretence for that long? Not Israel – she just didn’t think he was that clever.

  She knew Haunui had taken Tahi aside after the killing and had a long talk to him about it, because Haunui had told her father, who had told her mother, who had told her. Tahi hadn’t said anything to her, though. Not a word. She knew they’d discussed utu, which of course she knew was the Maori custom of rebalancing – in this case – a serious wrong that had been committed, because Haunui had taught her all about it, but Haunui’s conversation with Tahi hadn’t seemed to have alleviated his strange mood at all.

  It wasn’t as though he was being mean to her, he wasn’t. But the intimacy they’d shared before she’d been taken from the hotel at Cebu had disappeared – which was grossly unfair, because it wasn’t the fault of either of them that she’d been abducted. She thought if she could just bring him back to her, make him look at her properly again, everything would be fine. And the best way she could think of to do that was to offer herself to him, because he’d never been able to resist her.

  ‘Did anything happen on watch?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t catch Mick and Wing sneaking about?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ma says Mick’s keen on her.’

  That made Tahi pause, a soapy facecloth to his armpit. ‘True?’

  ‘Well, he’s been having little chats with her in her cabin. Without Ka.’

  ‘He’ll just be wanting a leg over. You know Mick.’

  ‘Ma says he’s serious about her.’

  Tahi snorted, rinsed his cloth and washed his face. Amber sat back, pleased that he seemed to have relaxed a little. He should be bloody well relaxed, judging by the whisky she could still smell.

  ‘Where’s the tooth powder?’ he asked.

  She told him. He dipped his toothbrush into the tin, cleaned his teeth, rinsed and spat into the bowl. When he’d finished his ablutions he opened the window an
d threw out the contents.

  Then he sat on the side of the bed.

  Amber threw back the bedclothes. ‘Aren’t you getting in?’

  ‘In a minute.’

  A minute passed, then another.

  ‘Amber?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘I’m quite tired.’

  ‘Well, hop in and we’ll see what happens.’

  Tahi took off his trousers and slid into the bed, and Amber thought it was possibly the first time he’d got that close to her without an erection. She pulled up the bedclothes and snuggled next to him, settling her arm and leg across him.

  ‘Oooh, you’re freezing.’

  That was always his cue to say, ‘Then warm me up,’ but he didn’t.

  She kissed him, tasting the chalky soap of tooth powder and an underlying hint of whisky. The whisky was much nicer. He returned the kiss briefly, then gently pressed her head against his shoulder.

  Didn’t he want to kiss her? she wondered. Had she remembered to clean her own teeth?

  She slid her hand over his belly and down to his groin but he took hold of her wrist and turned away from her, trapping her arm against his chest. She tried to pull free but he wouldn’t let go.

  ‘Tahi!’

  ‘What?’

  She yanked her arm away, whipped the bedclothes back and straddled his legs so he had to turn onto his back. Slowly, she lifted her nightgown off and tossed it on the floor. Now they were both naked.

  She ran the fingernails of both hands lightly from his chest to his groin, something he loved, but still his penis lay flaccid. Crawling backwards down his legs she took him in her mouth, but even that didn’t work.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ He wouldn’t look at her.

  Amber didn’t know what to do. This had never, ever happened before.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said.

  ‘Nothing’s the matter,’ he snapped. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again, staring at the ceiling. ‘I told you, I’m just tired.’

  ‘Shall I get on my knees?’ That was his favourite position.

  ‘No! Look, let’s just leave it. Put your nightgown back on. Let’s just go to sleep.’

  Amber felt a twinge of panic. ‘I don’t want to leave it. I want to know what’s wrong. I want us to fix it.’

  ‘Well, I bloody don’t. Come on, hop off.’

  Amber got off. Why didn’t he want to fix it? The panic was stabbing at her now like a long, sharp knife. ‘If we talk about it we—’

  ‘I said no, Amber!’

  ‘But—’

  Tahi lunged out of bed, snatched his trousers off the floor and slammed out of the cabin.

  Staring after him, Amber burst into tears.

  *

  Tahi tapped on the door of Hawk’s cabin, his mood not improved by the time he’d spent standing in the short passageway trying to work out where the hell everyone was sleeping. Haunui was in with Ropata so no room there, Simon was bunking in with Pierre because Wing and Ka were in his cabin, although Wing might be with Mick tonight so he was out. Bao was in Israel’s old cabin, though he wouldn’t have slept in there anyway, which only left Gideon and Hawk, and Gideon snored like a walrus with chronic catarrh. Hawk, however, hated being woken up for no good reason.

  He was about to knock again when the door opened. He’d forgotten what a light sleeper Hawk was.

  ‘Is there trouble?’ Hawk asked.

  His long hair hung unbound from its customary plait to his waist and he wore nothing at all but a very sour expression.

  ‘No, but—’

  Hawk shut the door in his face.

  Tahi knocked again. When it finally reopened he said quickly, ‘Can I bunk in with you?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just need somewhere to sleep.’

  After a long stare, Hawk let him in. He climbed back into bed and threw a pillow up onto the top bunk. ‘Do not snore. I cannot stand snoring.’

  Tahi got himself settled and lay with his hands behind his head, his face barely two feet from the ceiling, convinced he’d never get to sleep. He’d never in his twenty-three years been unable to perform sexually and now he couldn’t, but he knew the reason for it and he felt profoundly angry. It was all Israel bloody Mitchell’s fault. He was glad he’d stuck that knife in him and killed him. The satisfaction had been immense, but not, apparently, enough to drain the bitter poison of jealousy and resentment from his heart.

  Israel had raped Amber, he knew he had. She insisted he hadn’t, but he knew Israel and he went with whores and treated them like shit. He had no respect for women at all. Why would he not have raped Amber when he had all that opportunity? He’d fed her that opium for days, for God’s sake. She wouldn’t have known what the hell he’d been doing to her.

  Tahi swallowed a retch. Honestly, just the thought of it made him want to vomit. It was truly sickening. He tried not to think about it but he couldn’t help it, as though he were constantly picking away at a deep, painful scab until it bled.

  He was astonished that Amber expected him to make love to her, to put his ure where Israel’s had been. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to have sex with her again. And she couldn’t see it, how much it was upsetting him, what it meant. That was making him angry, too. Didn’t it matter to her that she’d been raped? He couldn’t just go on as if things were normal when he knew they weren’t, not any more.

  His mind had been going round and round like this since he’d got Amber back, and after what had just happened it would be even worse. He knew he’d still be awake by morning, turning it over in his head, feeling the pain, reliving the humiliation, planning revenge against a man he’d already killed.

  But he did fall asleep, and while he slept he had a vision.

  He was back in the Lotus Pond Gardens in Hong Kong, though it wasn’t night time any more, it was day, the light bright and white. Israel lay on the ground, dead in a pool of congealed black blood, and a great cloud of flies buzzed all around him.

  Tahi was holding someone’s hand and thought it was Amber’s, but it felt odd, and when he looked he saw it belonged to Lily Pearce, the nasty prostitute who’d been a thorn in everyone’s side at Ballarat. Her arms and face were all melted, as though she were made of wax, and most of her hair was burnt off. He hurriedly let go of her and she laughed.

  ‘You should have come and seen me, love. Boys were my speciality. I could have fixed your problem.’

  ‘Leave him alone, Lily.’

  Tahi’s mother stood on the far side of Israel, her long hair lifting in a gentle breeze Tahi couldn’t feel.

  Lily took two steps backwards and disappeared.

  ‘Mama,’ Tahi said. ‘I need help.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Wai walked through Israel’s corpse, not even disturbing the flies.

  ‘I need to talk to him,’ Tahi said, pointing. ‘Make him come alive.’

  ‘I cannot do that. In any case, he is not your dilemma. That lies inside you.’

  ‘But I have to know what he did.’

  ‘Do you really?’

  ‘Yes!’

  A procession appeared, led by a Chinese man scattering small pieces of paper, followed by a horse and cart on which lay a coffin. Dressed all in white, Bao rode on the cart and behind walked the crew of the Katipo and perhaps a hundred and fifty Chinese and European mourners. They passed in complete silence, until Tahi lost sight of them among the garden’s trees.

  ‘All you need to know is what truly matters between you and your wife,’ Wai said.

  ‘I just said that.’

  ‘You did not.’

  ‘I did. I said I have to know what happened.’

  ‘That is not the same thing. It does not matter what happened. You must continue to love her regardless.’

  ‘But—’

  Wai held up a small hand. ‘Be quiet, boy. If you do not continue to love her, he will have stolen her from you.’

  Tahi g
lanced down at Israel. He was propped up on an elbow now, grinning at him, his teeth and chin covered with sticky blood.

  ‘You said you couldn’t make him come alive,’ Tahi said to his mother.

  ‘And I have not. You have done that. You are keeping him alive.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ Tahi said.

  He ran up to Israel, kicked his head as hard as he could and watched with immense satisfaction as it separated from his neck, sailed off and landed many yards away in the middle of a bamboo stand.

  *

  The next morning Tahi woke early. He felt physically ragged, but mentally far more at peace than he had for many weeks. He trotted up on deck for a few minutes to see if dawn was coming yet and to greet Ropata on watch, then went down to the galley to visit Pierre.

  ‘You up early,’ Pierre said, up to his elbows in flour.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

  Pierre had a good stare at him. ‘Happy boy, though?’

  Tahi grinned. He was.

  ‘Très bien. Happy is good. Hungry?’

  ‘Starving.

  ‘Yesterday’s biscuits in the barrel. Kettle just boiled.’

  Tahi laid out a tray with a teapot, two cups and a plate for the biscuits.

  ‘Ooh, the romantic breakfast tea in the bed?’ Pierre asked.

  ‘Something like that. I don’t suppose we’ve got any fresh flowers?’

  ‘In the middle of the Tasman Sea?’

  ‘No, thought not.’

  Pierre’s face lit up. ‘But one moment.’ Dusting down his hands he rushed from the galley in a haze of flour.

  Tahi spooned tea leaves into the pot and added hot water, sniffing as the rich, dark aroma rose upwards.

  Pierre returned clutching a handful of beautifully made red and white satin roses. ‘I buy them in Cebu. They for the Spanish ladies’ hair.’

  ‘And for yours?’ This was odd even for Pierre.

  ‘Non, you fool, to give when there are no fresh.’

  ‘Perfect! Now all I need are Samson and Delilah.’

  ‘What . . . ah! Pierre knows!’

  Pierre took the little triangle he used to summon the cats for their meals and gave it a good few whangs with the beater. It wasn’t long before Tahi heard the thud of little feet along the deck and down the companionway, and Samson and Delilah tore across the mess room and into the galley.