by Bess McBride
“Did you find what you needed?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Since I had his attention, I asked a question.
“Are we all just going to sleep together in there? Not in a huddle, right?”
Francois laughed. “Yes, madame, we will sleep inside the hut, but not in a huddle, I promise. I hope you do not mind.”
“I should be grateful, but I really wish it was morning.”
Francois nodded. “If you will excuse me, I will see you inside.”
He rounded the hut, and I assumed he was off to relieve himself. I would have preferred to wait for him, but the chief’s wife stuck her head out of the hut and with a big wide grin, crooked her fingers and signaled for me to enter. I stepped inside and took up my spot, and the elderly Polynesians and I grinned and nodded at each other until Francois returned. Vana had lain down and turned her back to the room.
“Good night, madame. Sleep well,” Francois said as he followed Vana’s example. The chief extinguished the small fire in the room, said something, and they lay down as well on the opposite side of the room. I lowered myself to a supine position and stared into the darkness with no intention of sleeping in case I accidentally traveled through time.
The muted roar of waves hitting the nearby beach penetrated the silence of the hut, and the rhythmic noise lulled me into a state of drowsiness. I widened my eyes, determined to stay awake. On ship or on dry land, I could not lose my chance to find Daniel, to reunite with him.
I awakened with a start to the feel of a hand shaking my shoulder gently. Pushing myself upright, I looked up to see Francois bending over me.
“It is time to leave, madame,” he said. Behind him, the rosy glow of dawn spread into the hut through the open doorway.
I nodded, rubbed my thick eyes and pushed myself off the ground. Francois waited and beckoned me outside. The chief, his wife and Vana sat on hewn logs outside, eating food tucked into broad leaves. The elderly woman signaled that I should sit and join them, but Francois shook his head.
“Take the food with you, madame,” he said. “We must go. The tide is favorable.” He spoke to the elderly couple and Vana, no doubt telling them the same thing. Vana wiped her hands on her sarong and stood, with no luggage, no belongings.
She turned and spoke to the older couple in Polynesian, in what sounded like a few curt words that I interpreted to mean “thanks for nothing.” Turning a cold shoulder to them, she stalked off toward the beach.
The smiles on their faces revealed no signs of grief, and the chief’s wife pressed some wrapped food into my hand. I looked down at the broad leaf in my hand to see what I suspected was mashed breadfruit, banana pieces and some delicious-looking nuts. I couldn’t wait to eat it.
She handed Francois a matching packet of food, and he nodded and appeared to thank them.
“Shall we?” he said, turning to me. I nodded and followed him through the village and back down to the beach, eating my food along the way. The portion size was not large, and I finished before we arrived.
Captain Sebastian’s ship was long gone. A large outrigger canoe awaited us, much bigger and more elaborate than the one Daniel had scuttled. Resembling a catamaran with double hulls upon which a small domed thatched shelter balanced, a mast jutted up from a length of timber lying across the center, its sail furled. Six short but stocky male islanders stood by, holding oars. Vana had already climbed onto the canoe and crawled into the shelter, ignoring the men who threw curious glances at her.
Since the canoe had been pulled up onto the sand, I was able, with Francois’s help, to climb aboard. I took a seat on a narrow bench just in front of the hut and awaited our departure with joy and trepidation.
Francois helped the islanders push the canoe into the water, and then all seven men jumped in at various intervals. The men took up their oars and thrust them into the water, pulling in earnest. I looked forward. We seemed again to be in a lagoon and would have to fight a few waves to get out to open ocean.
Expertly maneuvered by the sturdy Polynesians, the canoe reached the coral reef in no time at all, and rather than flounder in the breaking waves, we sailed over the reef and into the sea with ease. I had barely managed to grab my bench seat before the whitewater surfing was over.
Francois turned and looked over his shoulder, I presumed to see if I was still there, and I nodded. I saw his gaze move beyond me, and I turned to see Vana lying down, apparently napping. I found her entitled behavior unpleasant, but upon meeting Francois’s bedazzled eyes once again, I saw that I was alone in that opinion.
The sea was fairly calm with no whitecaps visible. I watched Pokulau recede in the distance, a small island featuring gently rounded hills in contrast to the jagged peaks of Leakiki.
My eyelids started to droop as the canoe moved through the gentle swells, and I almost fell off my bench once, catching myself just in time.
I rose, eyed Vana with envy, and decided to join her under the shelter. She didn’t waken as I slid in next to her. My last thought before I fell asleep was mild surprise that I didn’t travel through time.
I awakened some time later at the sound of tapping, as if someone tapped on the door.
Chapter Eighteen
I opened my eyes. Just outside the shelter, one of the men tapped on a coconut with a machete. A gentle rocking beneath me confirmed that I was still on the outrigger canoe. I sat up, noting that Vana still slept beside me.
The islander, brawny and handsome with lustrous black hair pulled back from his face, looked up and saw me. Tattoos decorated all visible skin. He smiled and handed me the coconut from which he had pared an opening. He made a universal gesture of drinking, and I took the coconut from him and drank the sweet nutritious liquid.
Francois appeared at his side, took another coconut from a pile at the Polynesian’s knees and handed it to him. Fully expecting Francois to drink from the coconut, I was surprised to see him move toward the shelter, kneel down and gently touch Vana on the foot.
When Vana didn’t waken, Francois shook her foot yet again. Vana finally sat up, rubbing her eyes. She took the proffered coconut from Francois without a word and drank from it.
Francois turned away, rose and accepted another coconut, which he drank from this time.
“Where are we?” I asked. “How much farther?”
Francois looked up at the billowing sails. It was then that I noted almost all the islanders lounged or slept except for one at a tiller.
“If the wind holds steady at our backs, perhaps a few more hours,” he said. “We caught a favorable current and will make better time returning to Leakiki.”
“A few more hours? Really?” My heart pounded. Just a few more hours? “How long did I sleep?”
“Many hours,” Francois said. “Vana even longer.” He nodded toward Vana, who looked up as he spoke her name. Her lips evened out into a semblance of a smile, albeit not a very warm one. Francois’s cheeks bronzed.
We drank, ate the food that the islanders had kindly brought and generally relaxed while the wind did the work. If I had worried that the canoe couldn’t handle open sea, I was mistaken, especially given the current that Francois had described.
The next few hours passed slowly, and the sun began to descend. The wind shifted, and the men furled the sail and returned to rowing. Vana lounged on deck, watching the activities with little interest. I didn’t even try to talk to her. What Francois saw in her, I couldn’t understand. Certainly not her personality.
I moved over to sit beside Francois.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” I fretted. “How will you see the island?”
Francois nodded, his lips pressed together.
“I had hoped Leakiki would be in sight now, but I do not see it.”
“What if we miss it?”
“Please do not worry, madame. It will not help and will only upset you. I believe we are on the appropriate heading.” He rested his oar on his lap and pulled out a compass to consult it.
I bit my lip and scanned the horizon in search of land, some sort of dark shape, but could see nothing. It was as if I experienced déjà vu, only Daniel was not by my side.
Francois resumed rowing. I sat by him for the next hour as the sun dropped out of sight. The sunset, a splendid display of orange, purple, red and yellow streaks, failed to move me since I knew that darkness would soon follow.
There were no lamps on the canoe, and night fell in earnest. In the absence of visual stimulus, I heard only the sound of the oars slapping rhythmically against the water, the canoe cleaving through the sea. Either the moon had not yet risen or it would not shine that night.
Vana startled me by appearing at my side. She took a seat on the bench next to me and stared into the night.
No wind broke the silence. The men did not speak. I didn’t beg Francois for more pointless reassurances. The absence of sound was eerie, the absence of light terrifying.
A piercing shriek startled me, and I responded in kind. But my scream was shrill, unlike the hoarse cries of some kind of bird. Other birds chimed in, as if we had awakened them.
“We are near land,” Francois said. “But I cannot be certain it is Leakiki.”
I had been just about to sing out thankful praise when Francois’s words sent me into a tailspin. I watched as one of the islanders rose and scanned the darkness. I stood as well to see over their heads, but could see nothing, nothing but blackness.
The lookout shouted something and pointed. Though I could barely even see him, I managed to follow his arm. In the distance to our right, a small haze of reddish-orange glowed, just a break in the darkness.
Francois called something out in French, and the canoe turned toward the glow.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A flame perhaps from fire, perhaps from lava. I have seen such a light at night in Hawaii, from lava spilling into the sea.”
“Lava! Like an eruption?” I gasped. I strained to see the outline of the mountain, to see if flames spewed from one of the peaks, but I saw nothing other than the glow near the horizon.
“No, I think not. Leakiki is a volcanic island, but I do not see any flames from a volcano.”
He looked past me to speak to Vana in French, the first time I think he had ever really spoken to her.
“Non,” she responded. She said a few more things I didn’t understand.
“Vana says there is no mountain of fire, only pools where the hot rock burns.”
“So is that lava or not over there?” I asked.
Francois shook his head. “I do not know. If it is indeed fire, it is very large, much larger than what we might see from a village campfire.”
“A large fire?” My mouth went dry. “What if Kaihau found them? What if he attacked, if he’s burning them out?”
Francois spoke to Vana, who shrugged her shoulders rather callously, in my opinion, before responding. She seemed to say a lot. I struggled to breathe as I watched her speak.
“Vana says Kaihau is a great chief, but he has a temper. She does not know what he might do to the older women, but he will probably kill the men.”
“What?” I shrieked. “What?”
Francois put a restraining hand on me as I jumped up, prepared to take an oar myself and hurry us to shore.
“Please sit down, madame. To be honest, I am not certain that Vana does not exaggerate. She does not seem to like Kaihau much. I have met him on many occasions. He does have a temper—she is right—but he has not yet killed Captain Sebastian or myself.”
I took little comfort in his words.
“Please hurry,” I whispered. “Please hurry!”
I knew that the islanders had already sped up their rowing, but it didn’t seem fast enough. The glow grew in size, but the source was still indistinguishable.
I clung to the bench seat, panting with fear as the canoe swept through the water. The sound of the splashing oars and angry birds soon gave way to the crash of waves. The front of the canoe rose and fell as a current gathered up the canoe and rushed us toward shore. A rim of white formed in the darkness, and I thought I recognized a coral reef.
Francois shouted to the islanders.
“Is it a reef?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said curtly, focusing his attention.
It seemed only days ago that our small boat had run aground on the coral reef. I bit my lip and hung on to the bench seat, hoping for the best, and prepared to swim if I had to—if I wasn’t dashed against the coral again, if I could swim for the surface in the darkness.
But the islanders were experts at what they did. The canoe raced toward the breaking waves, lifted up and sailed over the reef and into a lagoon of calm water. I looked over my shoulder toward the roaring white line of surf before turning forward to study the yellow-orange glow before us.
“It’s fire!” I called out.
“Yes, fire,” Francois agreed. He spoke to the islanders in French again, and rather than race toward it, the islanders slowed the canoe and came to a stop in the lagoon, floating quietly.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, intuitively aware that Francois wanted quiet.
“I am not prepared to race into flames, madame. We do not know the source of the fire. We will drift in the lagoon until I ascertain the fire’s origins.”
I looked toward the island. The fire appeared to burn on the beach, a deserted beach. I could not see the village beyond. I saw no outrigger canoes, no huts, no people. What was the purpose of the fire? Other than the flames, the scene appeared remarkably peaceful. It was as if someone lit a bonfire.
“I think it’s just a bonfire on the beach,” I whispered. “I don’t see anyone running around, no screaming or shouting.”
“Yes, I see that now,” Francois said. He whispered in French and the islanders lifted their oars and maneuvered the canoe toward the beach. Except for the faint splashing of water and the hum of waves as they ebbed and flowed on shore, I heard nothing. Even the birds seemed to have gone back to sleep at sea.
We rowed toward the beach silently, my heart pounding so loud I thought surely everyone could hear. As we neared, I could hear the crackling of the bonfire, which burned bright. Freshly fueled with timber, it had not been left to die. Someone had to be nearby.
Francois silently directed the islanders to climb out and pull the canoe up on shore.
“Stay,” he whispered to me. He repeated his command to Vana in French.
I clung to the side of the boat, staring at the fire, studying the beach. Was this the same beach where we had landed only a few days before? Where we had built the huts? The firelight did not extend to the tree line, and I couldn’t see the huts.
Francois pulled a knife from a sheath at his hip, the large blade gleaming dangerously in the firelight. The islander who had cut the coconuts brandished his machete. Several others also carried knives. Francois paused, signaling with a raised hand for the islanders to pause. Most of them sank into silent crouches.
The hairs on my head stood up at the deadly sight, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to shout “Stop!” What I didn’t want was warfare. I didn’t want to see violence.
I jumped out of the boat and ran up to Francois, who seemed poised, waiting and listening. Upon hearing my footsteps, he whirled around with his knife raised. I ducked and cowered.
“It’s me, Francois!” I whispered.
Francois grabbed my arm and pulled me upright.
“Madame, why did you not stay in the canoe as I requested? Where is Vana?”
“In the boat,” I said. “Please don’t start a fight.” It was then that I saw the huts outlined in the firelight. “Oh, thank goodness, this is Leakiki! Who set this bonfire?”
“I do not know,” he whispered. “We have seen no one yet.”
Just then a rustling sound crashed through the underbrush. My little pig ran out
of the darkness, stopped short at the sight of us, then ran back into the brush. Daniel appeared out of the darkness, stepping out onto the beach as if he had been walking behind the little guy. He watched the boar disappear, then looked up and saw us.
“Daniel!” I shrieked. “Daniel!” I ran around the fire and across the sand, tripping as I reached him. He scooped me up into his arms and held me against him.
“Maggie, Maggie,” he murmured against my ear. “My love, you have come back to me!”
“I’ve traveled so far, so very far,” I said breathlessly. “You have no idea. I traveled back...on the ship...no more ships for me. I love you. I love you.”
“And I love you. I am so thankful to see you. You see the fire. I set it every night for you since you disappeared, I set the fire so you could find your way back to me. Oh, my dearest! I love you, Maggie Wollam. You must not leave me again. I will not let you leave me again.” Somehow his words ended in a lecture.
“No! No, never. I won’t set foot on another boat again, not even a canoe. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life here on the island, I won’t get on another ship.”
Daniel lifted his head and ran a tender hand down the side of my face, cupping my chin in his. He bent and kissed me deeply, purposefully, wondrously, and I melted in his arms.
It was at least a full minute before I became aware of Francois coming to our side. I looked up to see him greet Daniel. The islanders relaxed—some dropping to the sand, others exploring the area, the huts in the tree line. Vana climbed out of the boat and emerged into the light of the fire.
Daniel’s eyebrows lifted.
“Vana, I presume,” he said.
“Yes, she was sent back to the island,” Francois said.
“Kaihau will be pleased,” Daniel murmured.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Daniel,” I whispered. “She’s just not into him, if you know what I mean.”
Daniel tilted his head at my expression, but I thought he understood as I reached up to kiss his cheek. He kept one arm around me as we turned to watch Francois speak to Vana.
“What happened, my love? Where did you go this time?” Daniel bent his head and whispered in my ear.
