by Lance Morcan
Joeli looked aggrieved. “You teach?”
Without another word, Nathan walked down and joined the warriors. He proceeded to show them how to use their new weapons correctly. Joeli looked on, impressed.
Also looking on, unobserved, was Drake Senior. He was far from impressed at the sight of Nathan teaching members of his flock how to use the white man’s weapon of death.
#
As night approached at Momi Bay, Nathan left the village and walked toward the mission station. In his white muslin shirt, fashionable cotton breeches, and dress boots—the same outfit he’d worn to the dance in Levuka several weeks earlier—he looked every inch the debonair gentleman, albeit somewhat nervous. He self-consciously rearranged a bunch of flowers he was holding as he walked.
Behind him, the sky was turning a dramatic orange and pink as the sun set. Still the long-awaited wet season hadn’t arrived at Momi Bay. Any day now, the villagers had promised.
A hundred yards ahead, Nathan could see Drake Senior chopping firewood outside the newly rebuilt mission house. A lantern burning inside the house cast a warm glow in the fading light.
Fifty yards from the mission house, Nathan saw Susannah appear in the open doorway. She was framed by the light behind her. Even from a distance, with her hair up and dressed as she was in a white cotton dress, she looked especially beautiful. She smiled and waved when she saw Nathan then retreated back inside to attend to the meal she’d been preparing. Her father continued chopping wood.
In the gloom, Nathan suddenly stumbled when he caught his foot on something concealed in the long grass. He saw immediately it was the body of one of the village lookouts. The lookout lay on his back, a tomahawk protruding from his skull. His sightless eyes stared up, almost accusingly, at the startled young American.
Nathan dropped his flowers and pulled his pistol from his belt. He remained crouched down and looked around for the other lookouts who always patrolled the area between the mission station and the village at dusk.
Holy shit!
There was no sign of them. Nathan cursed himself for not noticing this earlier. He started running toward the mission station, shouting as he ran. “Reverend Drake! Susannah!”
Drake Senior looked up. At the same time, Susannah stepped outside to see what the commotion was about. Behind them, a sudden movement caught Nathan’s eye. He saw the Outcast, Rambuka, looming up out of the shadows, knife in hand. Rambuka was flanked by two of his followers. None of them had muskets, only traditional weapons. Whatever it was they were planning to do, it was obvious to Nathan they planned to do it in silence.
The Drakes saw the danger too late. Susannah screamed as Drake Senior raised his axe to meet the sudden threat.
The nearest outcast, a tall, rangy man with a heavily tattooed face, threw his spear at the missionary. The weapon tore through Drake Senior’s throat, its serrated point protruding out the back of his neck.
Susannah opened her mouth to scream again, but any sound was stifled by Rambuka, who clamped one hand over her mouth. She could only watch, horrified, as her father fought to draw a breath.
Choking, Drake Senior slowly toppled forward, gasping for air. Down on hands and knees, he died like that.
“No!” Nathan shouted. He couldn’t believe what was happening. It seemed surreal—as if everything were occurring in slow motion.
In the rapidly fading light, Susannah struggled futilely in Rambuka’s steel grip as the Outcast dragged her toward the nearby trees. Nathan sprinted toward them, determined to get to Susannah before the jungle and the darkness swallowed her up.
Noting his intentions, the other two outcasts moved to intercept him. Nathan aimed his pistol and fired, killing the nearest attacker, a big man with a missing ear. The tattooed outcast charged Nathan, club in hand. The two met head on. The outcast aimed his club for Nathan’s head. With no time to reload his pistol, Nathan drew his Bowie knife and slashed the man’s nose, almost cutting it off. The wounded outcast dropped his club and put both hands to his face, trying to stem the flow of blood. Using the butt of the pistol he was still holding in his other hand, Nathan savagely clubbed the outcast twice over the head, knocking him unconscious.
Looking around, he could see Rambuka had almost reached the cover of the trees twenty yards or so ahead. Nathan desperately tried to reload his pistol as he sprinted to save Susannah. Knowing he was running out of time, he aimed the unloaded weapon at Rambuka, shouting, “Stop!”
Believing the pistol was loaded, the Outcast pulled up, removed his hand from Susannah’s mouth, and held the blade of his knife to her throat, making sure he kept his hostage between himself and Nathan.
Terrified, Susannah cried, “Nathan!”
Nathan knew he somehow had to delay Rambuka until reinforcements arrived. Behind him, he could hear villagers coming to investigate, alerted by the pistol shot. Rambuka was also aware of the threat. He began backing up toward the trees, keeping his knife at Susannah’s throat. Nathan followed, pistol raised in the firing position.
As she was being dragged along, Susannah spoke to Rambuka in his native tongue. “Please,” she pleaded, “don’t hurt me.” Susannah instinctively knew the man accosting her was the cannibal they called the Outcast. She recalled seeing him, or someone very like him, leading the attack on the village. More to the point, she was aware of Rambuka’s reputation for abducting women.
Rambuka grinned sadistically at her then looked at Nathan. In pigeon English he warned, “Any closer White-Face, I cut her throat.”
Nathan hesitated. Rambuka motioned to him to drop the pistol. Again Nathan hesitated. Knowing he didn’t have long, Rambuka pricked Susannah’s throat with the point of his knife. The young woman gasped as the knife’s sharp tip drew a drop of blood.
Momentarily beaten, Nathan let his pistol fall to the ground.
Rambuka sneered, “She mine now, White-Face.” The Outcast gave another sadistic smile and then dragged Susannah into the rainforest.
Susannah screamed, “Nathan! Help me!”
Nathan retrieved his pistol and chased after the pair. In the dark, he could hear them crashing through the undergrowth. Nathan tried to follow the sounds, but became disoriented as he charged blindly to left and right. The sounds of his quarry gradually faded. He looked around, desperate, but it was now too dark to see any tracks. Nathan shouted. “Susannah!” It was a long, despairing cry. He turned and ran back to recruit the assistance of the villagers.
Emerging from the rainforest, Nathan was relieved to see Joeli, Waisale, and a dozen other warriors running toward him. All except the young ratu carried muskets. Nathan shouted to them, “Hurry!”
Joeli saw the two outcasts and Drake Senior lying nearby as he ran up to Nathan. He asked, “What happen?”
“It was Rambuka,” Nathan said breathlessly. “He took Susannah.”
“How many?”
“I only saw Rambuka,” Nathan said, “and these two.” He motioned to the two outcasts on the ground. The tattooed outcast was starting to come round. The man’s face was a bloody mess as a result of the knife wound he’d suffered. Nathan pointed to him, saying, “That one’s still alive.”
Joeli nodded to two warriors. They immediately grabbed the wounded outcast by the ankles and began dragging him back toward the village while Joeli translated what Nathan had told him for the benefit of the other warriors.
When Waisale heard what had happened, his heart went out to Nathan. Having lost his beloved Sina in near-identical circumstances, he knew what the American was going through at that very moment.
At a nod from Joeli, Nathan led them at a fast trot into the rainforest. The American ran as fast as the darkness and heavy undergrowth would allow. Joeli ran at his shoulder. Behind them, the other warriors fanned out, covering a wider area.
It soon dawned on Nathan he was running blind. He wasn’t sure Susannah and her abductor had come this way. Truth be known, at that moment he didn’t even know where north was. The deeper they
plunged into the jungle, the more lost he became. Feelings of panic set in. Please let me find her! He grew more desperate, trying to find some sign of his beautiful Susannah.
Realizing Nathan was lost, Joeli grabbed him by the arm and held him fast.
“We have to keep going!” Nathan protested.
“Too dark!” Joeli said simply. The young ratu released his grip on Nathan then put his fingers to his lips and peeled off a shrill whistle. Turning to Nathan, he added, “We search in morning.” He whistled twice more.
One by one, the other warriors materialized out of the darkness. Addressing them in Fijian, Joeli said, “We will begin the search at first light.”
“We can’t give up now!” Nathan complained. “He has Susannah.”
Joeli remained firm. Shaking his head, he said, “We search in morning.” He turned to return to the village.
“What about the outcast we captured? He’ll know where Rambuka is taking Susannah.”
For the first time, Joeli smiled. “He will be questioned.” He began retracing his steps to the village. Nathan and the others followed.
Walking behind Nathan, Waisale looked sympathetically at the American’s back. His thoughts went to his beloved Sina.
Although Susannah’s abduction was tragic for those concerned, Waisale knew the wounded outcast could lead them to Rambuka’s hideout—and to the women he’d abducted.
18
Beneath a full moon, a large crowd had gathered on the riverbank near the village to watch the interrogation of the wounded outcast. The captive was lying on his back, his hands tied behind him; what was left of his nose was covered in congealed blood, a legacy of the damage Nathan’s Bowie knife had inflicted earlier that evening.
To the wild beating of drums, warriors performed a cibi, or war dance, to demonstrate their superiority over their captive. With clubs and spears raised high, they danced aggressively only inches away from him. He looked up at them fearlessly and laughed openly at their efforts. This incensed one warrior, who kicked him in the face, dazing him and drawing more blood. Another warrior urinated over him.
The drumming softened and the warriors were pushed aside by a dozen near-naked maidens who performed a wate, or dance, aimed at sexually humiliating their captive. To the cheers of the onlookers, the nubile maidens left nothing to the imagination as they simulated intercourse and performed other crude gestures in front of and over their captive. This age-old insult was too much even for him, and he closed his eyes to try to escape this ultimate disgrace.
The drumming ceased as Joeli arrived. He was accompanied by Nathan and Waisale. As one, the dancers and other villagers prostrated themselves before their ratu. Joeli nodded to his warriors, indicating the interrogation of the captive should begin.
A warrior tied a rope around the outcast’s ankles and threw the other end of the rope over a branch that extended out over the river. Two husky men then retrieved the dangling rope end and began pulling on it. The captive was pulled feet-first and ended up hanging headfirst just above the water while the men supported his weight. The villagers cheered at his predicament.
Addressing the captive, Joeli asked, “Where is Rambuka’s hideout?”
The captive spat in Joeli’s direction. “Eat shit, you dog!”
Joeli nodded toward the two husky men, who immediately paid off the rope, lowering the captive into the river until his head and torso were submerged. Holding his breath, the captive thrashed about under water trying to free himself.
Nathan looked on impassively. His fingers strayed to the whale bone pendant he wore. His thoughts were with Susannah; concern for her consumed him. The present seemed like a living nightmare—more surreal than ever.
One who was taking more interest than most in the drama being played out was Selaima. The slave girl knew it was because of the curse she’d placed on Susannah that this was happening. Although she was delighted the Englishwoman had been taken from Nathan, she was afraid the captive would reveal the whereabouts of the outcasts’ hideout.
This was something she hadn’t foreseen and she wondered, momentarily, if the gift had let her down.
The captive’s movements were becoming more desperate as he was starved of air. Joeli nodded and the men lifted the outcast out of the water. The ratu gave the captive a few moments to regain his breath then, once more, asked, “Where is your hideout?”
The captive shouted, “I will die before I tell you that, you miserable—”
Before he could finish the insult, the husky men lowered him into the water a second time. Again, he thrashed about. Joeli waited longer this time before motioning to his men to lift him up.
The captive emerged coughing and spluttering. This time, he was ready to talk. “Our hideout is at Tomanivi,” he spluttered, “three days’ march inland. Please! Don’t let me drown!”
“Where exactly?” Joeli asked.
Looking on, Selaima willed the captive to remain silent.
“In the valley that runs north to south on this side of the mountain,” the captive gasped.
Selaima’s heart dropped. All she could hope for now was that Nathan wasn’t so committed to the Englishwoman that he’d join the expedition that would most assuredly be mounted to rescue her. If he remained in the village, that’s when she’d work her magic on him.
Satisfied, Joeli walked off. Nathan and Waisale followed. As they departed, Joeli briefly raised one hand. At this signal, his men lowered the captive into the river again, this time leaving him to drown.
Wanting confirmation the captive had revealed the whereabouts of Rambuka’s hideout, Nathan hurried to Joeli’s side. “Did he tell you what you needed to know?” he asked anxiously.
Joeli nodded briefly and kept walking. Neither he nor his two companions spared a second thought for the drowning outcast behind them. Joeli could only think of recovering the sacred golden tabua Rambuka had stolen from the village, while Nathan and Waisale could only think of rescuing the women Rambuka had taken from them.
The young ratu looked up as the moon disappeared behind clouds. “The wet season will arrive tomorrow.” He spoke English for Nathan’s benefit.
Nathan wasn’t listening. He just wanted the night to end and the chase to begin.
Watching the three men from afar, Selaima was in no doubt that Joeli would go after Rambuka. She knew how much the golden tabua meant to him. What she didn’t know was whether Nathan would accompany Joeli. She prayed to the spirits that he wouldn’t for she knew that to venture into the outcasts’ territory was to invite death.
In the village, Joeli paused outside his bure and turned to Nathan. He placed one hand on the American’s shoulder. “We leave for Tomanivi early.”
Nathan nodded and without a word walked on to his own bure. Inside it, he cleaned his musket and rammed food, spare clothing, and ammunition into a backpack in preparation for the early morning departure. Finally, he lay down and tried to sleep.
Sleep refused to come. Instead, a million thoughts coursed through his mind. A picture of Susannah being raped by Rambuka and his followers kept coming to him.
Nathan gave up trying to sleep. Instead, he lay there, on his back staring up at his bure’s thatched roof and thinking of the events that had brought him to this point in his life. It seemed like he’d been in Fiji for years, not weeks. He felt very little connectivity between the self-centered man he was when he arrived and the man he was now. And, he knew, that change was due entirely to Susannah. From the moment he’d first seen her, he’d been unable to think of anything or anyone else. She’d drawn out his real self from deep inside him—a side he never knew existed. Because of her, he felt more alive than ever before.
Before Susannah, all he’d cared about was attaining more wealth or buying more land so he could mingle in higher social circles. Material things suddenly seemed unimportant. All that mattered to him now was Susannah. Without her, life would be meaningless and empty.
For the first time ever, Nathan reali
zed he cared for someone more than he cared for himself. He’d known that the instant Susannah was abducted. She was his whole world now.
Nathan knew he would do whatever it took, whatever the sacrifice, to rescue her—even if it meant giving his own life. He only hoped he could reach her before she was harmed.
#
While Nathan was trying in vain to get to sleep, Susannah was having the same problem. Exhausted after her abduction earlier that night, she was now lying beneath a makeshift bivouac of branches and leaves that Rambuka had hastily assembled, trying to get to sleep.
The Outcast lay nearby, sleeping soundly despite the cold and the light rain that was now causing water to drip down onto him and his captive. Both were covered in scratches—a result of their headlong flight through the dense jungle earlier. A vine now linked them. Before going to sleep, Rambuka had tied one end of the vine to Susannah’s wrist and the other end to his. It was now stretched tight, ensuring any movement by his captive would wake him.
After snatching Susannah from the mission station, Rambuka had dragged her a good six miles inland before stopping for the night. He knew the best trackers in the world couldn’t follow his tracks in the dark, but had decided to put as much distance as he could between himself and his former tribesmen before stopping.
Rambuka knew Joeli and his warriors would be on his trail at first light. Quite apart from rescuing the Englishwoman, he knew his half-brother would want to recover the golden tabua he and his followers had taken from the village.
What Rambuka didn’t know was whether his companions had survived the fight at the mission station. He was pretty sure one of them had been killed, but wasn’t sure about the other. If one had survived, Rambuka knew Joeli would already know where his Tomanivi hideout was.
Right now, though, he had more pressing matters to attend to—such as reaching his hideout before his enemies overtook him. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but having to drag a woman along with him complicated things somewhat.
