by Lance Morcan
At Parramatta, Jack was frog-marched to the office of Henry Gallows, the settlement’s sadistic senior official. Here, while he waited for Gallows to finish breakfast, he was given a dressing down by a senior guard.
“If Mister Gallows spares your life, you’ll receive a flogging to remember, I can promise ye that, Halliday,” the guard promised.
#
The sun was high in the morning sky before Gallows finally appeared. He used a napkin to wipe egg from his chin as he surveyed Jack in silence. Finally, he said, “Mister Halliday, you have given me a dilemma. Do you know what that dilemma is, Mister Halliday?”
Jack shook his head, indicating he didn’t.
“I should hang you for trying to escape, but my guards tell me you have a strong back and can do the work of two men,” Gallows continued. “Completing the road to Sydney Town is more important to me than sparing your worthless life, so I shall spare you…this time”
Jack didn’t react, but inwardly he felt immense relief. He was sure he’d be hung.
“However,” Gallows added, “I need to make an example of you, or the others will think I’ve gone soft.” He leaned closer to Jack. “I’m going to have you flogged to within an inch of your life.”
#
At dusk, as another working day ended, the other convicts returned to the settlement. They were ordered to assemble in the central courtyard where they were greeted by the sight of a naked Jack who was tied to a whipping post. He’d been there under the hot sun since early afternoon, and his back and buttocks were badly sunburned. The sunburn couldn’t hide the faded marks of previous floggings.
Gallows stood behind Jack. He was flanked by senior Army officers, and behind them, the settlement’s official flogger waited with his trusty cat-o’-nine-tails in hand. The flogger was a bare-chested, muscular chap who relished his job and who had long-since lost count of the number of convicts he’d flogged.
The convicts had had their working day curtailed so they could witness Jack’s punishment while it was still daylight. As soon as they were assembled, Gallows addressed them.
“This sorry individual,” Gallows said glancing at Jack, “tried to escape last night. As you can see, like all before him, he failed.” Gallows waited for his words to sink in. “For this transgression, he will receive three hundred lashes.”
Gasps came from the convicts. It was common knowledge that three hundred lashes had finished off many a strong man.
On hearing his sentence, Jack didn’t outwardly react, but inwardly he cringed. Dear God have mercy on my soul. Twice now he’d received two hundred lashes, and each time he’d taken weeks to fully recover. On both occasions, the flesh had been literally torn from his back, which remained scarred to this day. How he’d survive three hundred lashes he wasn’t quite sure.
Gallows nodded to the flogger who stepped forward and, as was his habit, cracked his whip to test it. Satisfied, he proceeded to deliver Jack’s punishment.
With each crack of the whip, a young, pasty-faced English soldier counted off the lashes. “One, two, three...” The young soldier, a new recruit and recent arrival in the colony, could hardly watch as the flogger went about his work. Having never witnessed a flogging before, he was perilously close to fainting and had to steel himself to remain upright.
As each lash was delivered, Jack flinched involuntarily – such was its impact. Determined to block out the pain, he conjured up a mental picture of past lovers, or those he could recall at least. Then he recounted the different sexual positions he’d enjoyed with them. Finally, he graded each lover from one to ten, giving points for good looks, shapely legs, kissing technique, inventiveness and, last but not least, breast size. The butcher’s wife won this little contest, but Mary O’Brien, with her large melons, was a close second.
When the soldier’s count reached one hundred, the pain left Jack incapable of rational thought. He let his mind go blank.
#
Dusk was fading to night as the count reached two hundred. Jack was barely conscious. His back was a bloody mess. Even the flogger was splattered in blood. Gallows had stepped back a few paces to avoid being splattered.
Still the count continued, “Two hundred and one, two hundred and two, two hundred and three...” the pasty-faced young soldier recited hoarsely. By now he was so close to fainting, he visibly swayed on his feet.
Seeing his plight, a senior officer standing close by dismissed the soldier and took over the count. In the change-over, he missed counting two lashes, thereby condemning Jack to an additional two.
#
By the time the count reached three hundred, Jack was unconscious and darkness had fallen. Despite the large gathering of men, the compound was deathly silent. No-one spoke or moved.
It was Gallows who finally broke the silence. “Take him to his quarters,” he ordered.
Two soldiers untied Jack and dragged him away. Looking on, the assembled convicts couldn’t be sure whether he was alive or dead.
19
Makah Nation, West Coast, North America, 1841
Nathan, now nineteen, joined Makah braves and headmen as they filed into the chief’s lodge. Inside, they were greeted by Tatoosh who had been chief of the tribe since his father, Elswa, died in a hunting accident the previous summer. The young chief saw Nathan and offered a Makah salutation. “You look well today, my brother.”
Nathan responded in the Makah tongue. “And you, my brother.”
It was evident to all the bond between the two remained as strong as ever.
The men sat down, cross-legged, around an open fire. Tatoosh puffed on a ceremonial pipe then handed it to the respected headman, Klussamit, who took a puff and passed it to the next man. The assembled spoke in hushed tones.
Tatoosh held his hand up for silence. “Makah braves, I greet you.”
Conversation ceased immediately and every eye was on the young chief.
Tatoosh announced, “Our neighbors on the long island say the big fish have returned to these waters.”
The announcement was greeted with cheers from the assembled braves. They beat their feet and fists on the lodge’s walls and floorboards to express their delight and began talking animatedly among themselves.
Nathan was aware Tatoosh was referring to the whales that passed through the Strait of Juan de Fuca each year. The gray and humpback whales, and the occasional orca, were regular visitors to these waters. He was aware, too, the reason for the braves’ excitement was the Makah hadn’t had a successful whale hunt for more than two years and that was a major problem for people who relied so heavily on the whale for its blubber and a multitude of other things.
So-Har, a belligerent brave, leaped to his feet. “We must spear the big fish now!”
There were shouts of agreement from the others.
Tatoosh raised his voice to make himself heard. “No! Today we make preparations for the hunt.”
There was some dissention, but most saw the wisdom in this. Preparation was the key to a successful hunt, and past failures could be attributed to lack of preparation.
“Tomorrow the Makah will kill some big fish,” Tatoosh continued. “Then we will have so much blubber to eat we will be as fat as pregnant women!”
Wild cheering broke out again. So-Har reluctantly joined in. Several braves uttered shrill war cries and brandished their weapons.
Tatoosh raised his hand again for silence. As the din subsided, he looked in Nathan’s direction and said, “I put it to the council that Nathan Johnson be permitted to join the hunt.”
The drawn-out silence that followed indicated that few, if any, favored the chief’s suggestion. It was the Makahs’ belief that the spirits of the sea had decreed only those of their blood be permitted to hunt the big fish.
Tatoosh added, “I remind you the White-Eye is my blood brother.”
“He is not Makah!” the belligerent So-har said. Several braves murmured their agreement.
An even longer silence followed. It w
as a stark reminder to the young white that the Makah did not consider him their equal. While he’d saved the life of Tatoosh’s father and had fought alongside the Makah in battle, he remained an outsider in the eyes of most. He’d earned their respect through his deeds and easy manner, and his friendship with their chief counted for much, but an outsider he remained.
“The council has spoken.” It was the elderly Klussamit who broke the silence. “Nathan Johnson is not Makah. He cannot hunt the big fish. The sea gods have decreed it.”
Again this was greeted by murmurs of assent.
Tatoosh had no choice but to accept the council’s decision. Grim-faced, he stood to signal the meeting was over.
As the braves filed from the lodge, Tatoosh took Nathan aside. He said solemnly, “Tatoosh, son of Elswa, cannot go against the wishes of the council, Nathan Johnson.”
“I understand, my brother,” the young white assured him.
Tatoosh nodded and the two parted.
Nathan suddenly felt the need to be alone. The events of the past few minutes had brought home to him he was a foreigner in a foreign land. I’ve been here too long, he told himself. I’m becoming one of them yet I’ll never be accepted as one of them. He knew he looked and acted like a native; now he worried he was starting to think like one too.
As always, his thoughts turned to home. The young white remained perplexed as to why no-one had come looking for Intrepid and her crew. He’d once been confident the ship’s owners would sail into Neah Bay as they conducted an exhaustive search for their missing vessel and crew up and down the west coast. As the years passed, that confidence had evaporated.
Nathan wasn’t to know that bloody skirmishes between neighboring tribes and traders meant that trading vessels now bypassed this stretch of coastline. Neah Bay, it seemed, had gained a reputation for being a dangerous port of call – a reputation that was largely undeserved.
Deep in thought, Nathan walked slowly toward the far end of the beach. As he walked, he was unaware that Tatoosh was observing him. The young chief, in his wisdom, suspected the White-Eye was still yearning for his previous life.
What Tatoosh couldn’t know was how much Nathan was yearning for his past life.
The novelty of living as a Makah, with the Makah, had long worn thin. Nathan’s respect for these people was rapidly being replaced by feelings of resentment toward them. Resentment because they were keeping him from his own kind.
They expect their token white man to embrace their beliefs and customs, and to feel grateful for their hospitality. Truth be known I’m still a slave!
Nathan felt his resentment growing. He suddenly felt superior to the Makah and the other native peoples of the Northwest. Thinking on it further, he realized he viewed their customs and beliefs as Stone-Age, and shared few of their values. How he longed to break free of this place and venture out into the world to see wonderful new sights, and to make his fortune.
#
Early next morning, as Tatoosh led a small flotilla of canoes out of the bay on the first whale hunt of the season, Nathan walked alone up into the hills behind the village. He had some serious thinking to do.
With his long stride, the young white covered the miles effortlessly as he walked deeper into the hills. Almost without thinking, he followed a familiar path – a path he’d been using increasingly of late. It led him to the home of Tagaq, a young Makah woman who lived with her family, away from others of their tribe, in a remote valley four miles from Neah Bay. The family had been banished from the village after the man of the house, a proud Makah warrior known as Kenojuak, had slept with a headman’s wife. Faced with death or banishment for him and his family, he’d chosen the latter.
Nathan had stumbled across Kenojuak’s family on one of his walks two months earlier. He’d struck up an immediate rapport with the banished warrior and had taken a shine to Kenojuak’s oldest daughter Tagaq, a sultry beauty only a little younger than Nathan. For the young couple it was lust at first sight, and Nathan had visited the maiden as often as he could to satisfy his desires. Those desires had become more intense of late and Tagaq was the first female he’d met who could totally satisfy him – physically at least.
It was a liaison that suited Nathan. It suited Kenojuak and his family also as the young white always came bearing gifts – as was the case on this occasion. The backpack he carried – crafted from deerskin by his faithful slave Baldy – was bulging with dried saltwater fish and other food items the family didn’t normally get to enjoy.
On reaching the top of a bluff overlooking the valley that was home to the family of outcasts, Nathan stopped to admire the view. He smiled to himself when he saw Tagaq. She was picking wild herbs. As always, Nathan felt his pulse quicken at the sight of the young woman. Long, black hair framed a face that was beautiful by any standard, and her slender, athletic limbs and golden skin gave her a goddess-like appearance. But it was her eyes that had ensnared Nathan. They were all-seeing and smoky gray, and they beguiled any man she looked at.
Beyond Tagaq, Nathan had a view of the young woman’s home. It was a tiny, dilapidated version of the lodge she and her family had been forced to leave back at Neah Bay. The structure leaned at an alarming angle and Nathan knew from experience it leaked like a sieve in the rain and threatened to collapse in a strong wind. For the family’s newest member, a baby boy named Keno, after his father, it was the only home he’d known. For the other family members, Neah Bay was but a memory for to visit it would be punishable by death.
So it was with some enthusiasm that Tagaq and her family looked forward to Nathan’s visits.
As he walked down to the tiny lodge, he was greeted by two of Tagaq’s younger siblings. They raced up to Nathan and squealed with delight as he drew two small, hand-carved, wooden items from his backpack.
Tagaq was next to greet him. Her greeting was more sedate. In the custom of her people, she walked up to Nathan. “I see you Nathan Johnson,” she purred softly.
“And I see you, Tagaq, daughter of Kenojuak,” Nathan smiled
Barely a foot apart, the two young lovers avoided touching each other. That was the Makah way. The touching would happen soon enough, and when it did it would be all go. That was also the Makah way – as Nathan had discovered to his great delight during his first year with the tribe. Even when still a slave, he’d had his choice of many of the village maidens who, with few exceptions, had been attracted to the handsome young white.
Kenojuak and his youngest wife, Eu-tintla, emerged from the family lodge. They, too, greeted the visitor with smiles and gratefully accepted the food and other gifts he’d brought.
Custom dictated that Nathan share food with the family before satisfying his desires and making love to Tagaq. As always, the delay only served to increase his desire for the young woman. It was the same for her also, although she always took care to hide her passion for Nathan in front of her family.
Kenojuak and his two wives were under no illusion over what brought their white friend back to their valley so often. The feelings Nathan had for their daughter, and her feelings for him, had been obvious to them from the outset.
So, when Nathan politely suggested he and Tagaq go for a walk, Kenojuak chuckled to himself. The warrior smiled knowingly at his wives as the couple departed.
Outside the lodge, Tagaq led Nathan by the hand into the forest to a cave she’d discovered soon after the family’s arrival in the valley. She’d not mentioned its existence to anyone else, so she and Nathan were assured of privacy when they needed to be alone – as they did now.
As they approached the cave’s entrance, they walked faster. It had been two weeks since Nathan’s last visit and they both needed each other urgently.
Inside the cave, they were greeted by the sight of a rug which Nathan had brought to their second romantic liaison. He’d borrowed it from the village and it had served as a warm bed mat for the couple ever since.
Suddenly reserved, Tagaq smiled shyly at Nathan. In t
he semi-darkness, her eyes flashed and Nathan could see she desired him as much as he did her. He took both her hands in his and kissed her, gently at first.
Before either of them knew it they were tearing at each other’s clothes. Now naked, Nathan lay her down on the rug and began caressing her breasts with his lips. Tagaq made it clear she needed him now rather than later when she parted her thighs, grasped his throbbing member and inserted it into her womanhood.
Nathan gasped when Tagaq tightened her grip on him. He was transported to another place as she worked her magic beneath him, rolling her hips in time with his and groaning as he thrust deeper inside her.
Time vanished as their bodies became one.
The delicious sensations reminded Nathan yet again why he now avoided the attention of the eligible females back at the village and sought out Tagaq whenever he could. She was an exquisite lover. Where she’d learned her skills, he couldn’t even guess. As far as he knew, the family had had no contact with others since their banishment from the village, and he was pretty certain she was a virgin when he met her.
#
Later, after making love for the second time in as many hours, Nathan and Tagaq regretfully said their goodbyes. It was time for Nathan to return to Neah Bay.
For both, parting was the worst part of their liaisons as each knew it could be weeks before they saw each other again.
“I will try to return before the next full moon,” Nathan promised.
“I will count the days until then,” Tagaq murmured.
Not wanting to make their parting any more difficult than it was, Nathan kissed her then turned and struck off into the forest.
Behind him, he couldn’t see the look in Tagaq’s eyes. It was a mix of longing and regret. Longing because she loved her white beau more than anything or anyone she’d ever loved; regret because she could sense her love for him was not reciprocated. Tagaq knew in her heart Nathan would one day tire of her and that would be it. He was that sort of man.
