by Lance Morcan
Glancing at the nearby mission station, Nathan’s thoughts strayed to Susannah. Apart from a flickering light that shone from the mission house windows, the station was already in darkness. He wondered how Susannah and her father were passing their time and what they’d be talking about.
Iremaia suddenly appeared in the open doorway of his large bure. Seeing Nathan, he beckoned to him to join him. Nathan hurried over and followed the old ratu inside. There, he found a cooking fire crackling in the center of the gloomy, smoke-filled bure. Its flames lit up the faces of Iremaia’s clan, who included his four wives and an assortment of relatives of all ages.
The unwelcoming Joeli was among them. Akanisi, the ratu’s first wife and mother of Joeli, supervised two slave girls who were tending the fire. There was so much laughter and chatter nobody could hear themselves speak. Nathan was greeted with welcoming smiles from all except Joeli. It was almost as if the ratu’s son sensed the true intentions that lay behind Nathan’s ready smile. The American worried that Joeli was going to be an obstacle to his forthcoming trade.
Looking around, Nathan saw that, even here, there was evidence of past conflicts. Several shrunken heads hung from the thatched roof and traditional weapons of various descriptions lay scattered around.
Iremaia motioned to Nathan to sit next to him. Sitting down, he noted the dirt floor was covered in mats woven from pandanus leaves. Marveling at their beautiful colors, he would learn later the effect was achieved by burying the leaves in mud and laboriously boiling them with other plants. Parrot feathers lined the outsides, adding to the colorful effect.
Generous helpings of steaming hot yams, sweet potatoes, and shellfish were carried in by slaves from the lovo outside. Diced raw fish was added and coconut cream was poured over the food, adding to its tantalizing appearance and aroma.
Selaima, a fetching slave girl who looked about sixteen but was in fact twenty, served the food in wooden bowls carved from the timber of some of the numerous varieties of trees that flourished in the region. She served Iremaia first, then Nathan, smiling openly at him as she did so.
After dinner, the men drank kava while Selaima and several other girls entertained them by performing a meke, or traditional dance. Wearing only grass skirts, their nubile bodies gleamed in the firelight as they danced to the beat of a hollowed-out log that served as a drum. The accompaniment was provided by two men who, using the palms of their hands, expertly pounded out an ancient rhythm.
Nathan watched, entranced, as the smiling dancers performed. Glancing at his companions, he saw they, too, were entranced. To a man, they appeared to have eyes only for Selaima. Studying the slave girl, he could understand why: she was very easy on the eye—especially while performing an erotic dance as she was now.
The American was beginning to feel the effects of the kava he’d been drinking. He’d forced himself to partake of the vile liquid in order not to offend Iremaia. Already his lips were numb and his brain felt like it was going the same way.
The rain that threatened earlier arrived with a vengeance as it only can in the tropics. It beat a steady tattoo on the bure’s roof, threatening to drown out the sound of drumming. The drummers responded by intensifying their efforts and the dancing became frenetic as the dancers tried to keep pace.
Watching the semi-naked girls dancing, Nathan’s thoughts strayed to Susannah and he wondered what her naked form looked like.
#
At the mission station less than a quarter of a mile away, the Drakes were about to start on the first course of their first-ever dinner in the surprisingly comfortable dining room of their cottage. Susannah placed a bowl of soup on the table in front of her father then sat down opposite him. A Bible lay open between them. Father and daughter closed their eyes and bowed their heads.
Drake Senior prayed, “Lord God, we thank thee for this sustenance. We thank thee also for delivering us safely to Momi Bay and pray that we may find many converts among our Fijian brothers and sisters whose souls we have come to save.”
Together, they said, “Amen.”
Drake Senior smiled at his daughter and they proceeded to drink their soup.
Over the course of the meal, the reverend told his daughter of his long-term goal of converting the more uncivilized Fijians in Viti Levu’s unexplored interior.
Susannah had immediate misgivings. She interrupted her father, saying, “But Nathan . . .” Drake Senior looked sternly at his daughter. Susannah quickly corrected herself. “Ah . . .Mr. Johnson tells me the tribes of the interior are still cannibals.”
Drake Senior studied his daughter carefully for a moment, before nodding. “What Mr. Johnson says is true. Not that he knows much about anything. He is the devil’s instrument, that man.” The reverend looked intensely into Susannah’s eyes as if to drive home his point.
“Yes, I know, Papa.”
Drake Senior then went on to lay out his ambitious plans for eventually converting the whole of Viti Levu by working in with other missionaries. “There is safety in numbers,” he reminded Susannah, “and in the Christians’ armor.” He patted the open Bible in front of him to emphasize his point.
What he didn’t say was that Susannah did not feature in his plans to spread the gospel to the warlike tribes of the interior. While he was prepared to accept the risks involved, he had no intention of placing his daughter in harm’s way. He would leave her to continue the good work the mission was doing at Momi Bay. But his plans for the interior would have to wait. There was much to do here first.
As he spoke, Drake Senior thought he had Susannah’s undivided attention. He wasn’t to know her mind was on other things. At that very moment, she was wondering what Nathan was doing.
Outside, the rain momentarily eased. The pair finished their soup in silence. The only sound other than the clink of spoons on soup bowls was the distant thunder of waves crashing on the offshore reef.
In the sudden stillness of night, the sound seemed magnified. Then the rain returned harder than before, drowning out the sound of the waves.
After bidding her father goodnight, Susannah retired to her bedroom. By the light of a candle, she read a few passages of her Bible before kneeling in prayer to thank God for delivering her and her father safely to Momi Bay. She then blew the candle out and climbed into bed.
Lying there in the darkness, her mind whirled with all the events of the day. She recalled the pornographic tattoos she’d seen on the young Qopa men at the sacrificial ceremony. Susannah tried to block the images from her mind, but they wouldn’t go away. Soon, she was imagining herself in the sexual positions of some of the women featured in those tattoos.
As she finally slipped into unconsciousness, the sexual fantasies took on a life of their own. She dreamed she was alone in a bure with a man. It was dark so his identity was a mystery to her. He was slowly disrobing her; she was becoming impatient and urging him on. His hands greedily devoured her breasts and then explored the rest of her body.
Finally, he lay on top of her. As he prepared to enter her, Susannah saw the man’s face.
It’s Nathan!
Susannah woke with a gasp. She discovered her hand was on her vagina, which was deliciously wet with desire. Feelings of guilt were accompanied by relief that she’d only been dreaming and was still a virgin. She immediately began to pray to God that he would give her the strength to resist the temptation of having sex before marriage.
Though she believed in the power of prayer, Susannah knew she was in danger of being overwhelmed by the intensity of her sexual fantasies. Her forbidden desires were like demons she couldn’t exorcize, no matter how many biblical versus she recited. They kept coming like waves in an ocean.
#
By the flickering light of a fire stick protruding from one interior wall, Nathan took in his new surroundings. He was standing in a small bure on the village outskirts. Moments earlier, one of Iremaia’s servants had escorted him to it and, before departing, had indicated this was where he was
to spend the night. At a glance, he could see it consisted of one bare room. An unused cooking pot rested in front of a makeshift fireplace. Worn pandanus mats only partly covered the dirt floor, leaving exposed areas muddy on the rare occasions it rained—as was the case this night.
Two old, worn blankets folded on a mat by the near wall indicated that was where he’d be sleeping. The blankets looked out of place. They were obviously the result of some long-forgotten trade.
Nathan removed the pistol he carried in his belt. It had been concealed by his shirt, which he wore over his trousers. Then, slipping out of his wet clothes, he picked up one of the blankets and used it to dry himself down. Naked, he doused the flame on the end of the fire stick, lay down on the mat, and pulled the other blanket over him. Even without a pillow, it was surprisingly comfortable.
Staring up into the darkness, listening to the driving rain, Nathan began to fantasize about Susannah. He felt his manhood harden as he imagined himself caressing her shapely body. He drifted off, dreaming he was having his way with the beautiful young missionary.
#
Nathan awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. He was sure a woman had just been kissing him. Looking around, he saw that he was alone. The rain had eased and moonlight was now shining through gaps in the clouds, piercing the darkness and lighting the bure’s interior.
Aware he’d been dreaming, he lay back down and replayed the dream in his mind, trying to determine who it was who had been kissing him. Susannah’s beautiful face filled his mind. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of her again.
9
When dawn arrived at Momi Bay, mist blanketed the sea and the surrounding hills. The mist was so dense it was like cotton wool, obscuring all that it covered. Nathan was sleeping soundly—as were the Drakes and most of the villagers.
The only sign of life came from the Qopa lookouts. Among them was Babitu, a one-eyed warrior who was patrolling the headland behind the village. He followed a well worn trail near the cliff edge, a traditional conch, or sea shell horn, hanging from a cord over one shoulder.
The mist always made Babitu nervous because not even his keen hunter’s eye could pierce its denseness. So he was relieved when it began to lift. Out in the bay, the gray outline of the Rendezvous was now visible where moments earlier there had only been mist.
A movement beyond the schooner caught Babitu’s attention. He tensed as the sail of an outrigger canoe appeared out of the mist. The mist parted momentarily to reveal thirty musket-bearing warriors sailing the craft at speed toward the beach below the village. Two more war canoes suddenly appeared close behind.
“The outcasts!” Babitu said to himself. Although he couldn’t identify the warrior in the bow of the nearest canoe, he knew instinctively it was Rambuka. Babitu lowered his spear and raised the conch to his mouth, blowing into it for all he was worth.
The blare of the conch echoed throughout the bay, immediately waking its sleeping residents.
After several long blasts on the conch, Babitu raced back to the village, shouting, “The outcasts are coming!”
Villagers emerged from their bures, alarmed by the sudden commotion. The men and some of the women carried weapons. They knew full well what the blare of the conch signified. Behind them, children stumbled out into the open air, looking confused and frightened.
Nathan awoke at the same moment. Still half asleep, he quickly dressed and emerged from his bure in time to see the one-eyed Babitu talking to Iremaia and Joeli. Babitu was pointing at the bay. Nathan looked to where he was pointing, but saw nothing. The mist had descended again, hiding any sign of the approaching danger.
An alarmed Iremaia led his warriors down to the beach, carrying the musket Nathan had gifted to him. Unsure what was going on, Nathan retrieved his pistol from his bure and followed them.
On the beach, he caught up to Iremaia, who was staring into the mist. The ratu saw Nathan approach and turned to him. “Rambuka’s outcasts come,” he said simply.
Nathan followed Iremaia’s gaze, but saw only mist. Moments later, the mist parted to reveal three outriggers spearing in toward the beach. The American estimated they were less than three hundred yards distant and traveling fast. He knew little about the outcasts, but recalled they lived in the interior of Viti Levu. Nathan wondered how they’d come to acquire oceangoing craft. He wasn’t to know they’d seized the outriggers after ransacking the village whose smoldering ruins he’d seen from the Rendezvous the previous day.
“Back to the village!” Iremaia ordered his warriors. “Prepare to give our guests a welcome they will not forget!” He hurried back toward the village with his warriors close behind.
Only Nathan and Joeli hung back. The ratu’s son wanted Rambuka to see him.
Looking on, Nathan could see the hatred in Joeli’s eyes. He wondered what had caused the bad blood between him and Rambuka.
In the lead outrigger, Rambuka recognized Joeli. The half-brothers locked eyes and held each other’s gaze for several moments as Rambuka’s craft approached the shallows.
Joeli turned to go. “We must hurry!” he said to Nathan.
Nathan’s only thought was for his own safety. He didn’t care about what happened to the Qopa because he knew Fijians were always at war. That was their way of life.
Life and death are nothing to these people, so I’m damned if I’m gonna risk my life to help them.
Nathan turned and looked out to into the bay where the Rendezvous was anchored about half a mile offshore. He considered swimming to the schooner, but figured he would probably be shot or captured before he reached it. Nathan then looked behind him at the rainforest that fringed the village. He considered it offered the best chance for escape.
It was then the American suddenly remembered Susannah and her father. He cursed when he realized this complication was likely to put him in danger. For a moment he considered leaving the missionaries to their own resources, but the thought of Susannah being raped, or worse, changed his mind.
Nathan ran after Joeli. “What about them?” he asked, pointing toward the mission station.
Joeli simply shrugged, indicating he didn’t have time to worry about the missionary couple, and continued running toward the village.
Nathan reluctantly sprinted toward the mission station. As he neared it, he saw the Drakes had already emerged onto the veranda of their cottage. Despite the early hour, they were fully dressed. By their expressions, Nathan could see they were obviously still trying to work out what the commotion was all about.
Waving his arms as he ran, Nathan shouted, “Hurry! Get to the village!”
The couple looked at Nathan in bewilderment. Neither moved.
Leaping the rail onto the cottage veranda, Nathan glanced over his shoulder and saw the outcasts had almost reached shore. “Quickly,” he urged, “we don’t have much time!”
Drake Senior asked, “What’s all this about?”
“No time to explain! Just worry about getting yourself and your daughter to safety.”
Only now did Drake Senior notice the outcasts. Turning to Susannah, he said, “You go with Mr. Johnson, my dear. I have to get something.”
“No, Papa!” Susannah implored. “We must go.” She, too, had seen the outcasts.
Turning to Nathan, Drake Senior said, “Take her.”
Nathan took Susannah firmly by the arm and began pulling her toward the village. As he ran, he noticed some of Iremaia’s warriors doubling back toward the mission station. Evidently, the ratu had sent them back to provide an escort for the Drakes. Nathan wasn’t aware it was, in fact, Joeli who had sent the warriors back.
The ratu’s son had had second thoughts about the welfare of the missionaries who had come to spread God’s Word. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Joeli had a grudging admiration for the Drakes and their kind—even though he couldn’t relate to their god. Nathan, however, was something else; Joeli couldn’t care less about his welfare.
Looking behind her as she ran, Su
sannah saw her father had disappeared inside the cottage. She was relieved to see him reemerge almost immediately, clutching a Bible in one hand and a pistol in the other. He began running after them.
The sight of a pistol in Drake Senior’s hand came as a shock to Susannah. She hadn’t known her father possessed such a thing. While it was a shock to her, it was only mildly surprising to Nathan. He’d suspected the reverend had steel in his spine and would not be content to leave the safety of his daughter entirely in the good Lord’s hands.
Down on the beach, Rambuka’s outrigger canoe was the first to reach shore. The Outcast and his followers jumped out and pulled the craft up onto the sand just as the other two outriggers arrived.
At the same time, on board the Rendezvous, Lightning Rod was on watch. As always, the simpleton was looking nervously skyward as he paced the deck. The mist finally lifted and early morning sunlight bathed the bay. Lightning Rod did a double-take when he saw the armed outcasts on the beach. He rang the schooner’s bell to raise the alarm. “Savages! Savages!” he stammered. Soon, the deck was crawling with armed crewmen.
Lightning Rod was still ringing the bell when Nathan and the Drakes reached the safety of the village. As soon as the trio had crossed the ditch in front of the outer palisades, warriors withdrew the plank walkway, leaving no easy access to the village.
Inside the first line of palisades, the Drakes were greeted by two large women who each had babies strapped to their backs. The women took Susannah and Drake Senior by the hand and led them away to where the other villagers had assembled, on the headland behind the village. As Susannah was being led away, she looked back at Nathan and mouthed her thanks.
Looking around, Nathan observed Iremaia and his warriors had taken up defensive positions behind the palisades. Several female warriors were among them.
