Michener, James

by Hawaii

  FROM THE SUN-SWEPT LAGOON

  45

  "Why do you ask this, Tehani? You could have any man on Havaiki."

  The girl hesitated, then decided to speak the truth. "Your island is doomed, Teroro. You must escape. Come here. Be loyal to Oro. We can have a good life." "Has your father suggested this?" "Yes."

  "What evil is he planning?"

  "I dare not say," she answered. Taking Teroro's hands, she knelt before him and pleaded softly, "I have shown you how sweet Havaiki could be because I want to save your life. Here you can become a powerful chief. My father has many lands, and Oro is generous to warriors like you."

  "I belong to Bora Bora," Teroro said with passionate conviction. "I will never leave that island," and he started for the canoe, but pleading Tehani caught him by the legs, and he stayed with her that second night, so that on the next morning when the conch shells told of departure, he was reluctant to go. "There are no women like you on Bora Bora," he confessed. "Stay here with me," she pleaded.

  At this moment he was almost tempted into confiding to her the revenge he had been formulating in his mind, but he fought back ; the impulse and said, "If I ever did come back to Havaiki, you would I be my woman. A man could enjoy you." � "Come soon, Teroro, for Bora Bora is doomed."

  Certainly, when the eleven visiting canoes departed the temple and ] stood out to sea, each breaking off from the column for its own desti- nation, it seemed that the days of Bora Bora's greatness had van-: ished, for it was a dispirited group that occupied Wait-fbr-the-West-Wind. King Tamatoa acknowledged that in the game of power at the temple, he had permanently lost. All strength now lay with the High Priest, and abandonment of the island to Oro was the only sensible course. Teroro, surveying his depleted ranks, brooded on revenge, but had to recognize that the priest had outwitted him and lad stricken down enough of his men to demoralize the rest. The crewmen sensed that their chiefs were disorganized and that ultimate power now lay with the High Priest, but they did not know by what political contrivances the power would be transferred; while the junior priests were so excited by the obvious victory of Oro that they had volunteered, while still on Havaiki, to assassinate both Tamatoa and Teroro and thus to settle the island's problems once N for all.

  To their surprise, the High Priest had not assented to this; in act, he had condemned his overeager assistants and had reasoned: l"If we dispose of the king and his brother in this manner, the people Iwill lament their passing and might even rise against us, but if we F continue as we have been doing, then the people themselves will dis-

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  HAWAII

  cover that their king is powerless against the wishes of Oro, and they will either force him to Oro's will, or they will desert him."

  "But what if the king is obstinate?" an old priest had asked, recalling the record of Tamatoa's father, against whom Havaiki, Tahiti and Moorea had united in war, fruitlessly.

  The High Priest had looked up at the sacrifices dangling in the moonlight and had observed: "Tamatoa may remain obstinate, but his people won't. Have you been watching how his men are even now confused and bitter? Where is Teroro, their leader, right now? Idling in the hut of Tehanil"

  The old priest, not certain that Tamatoa would abdicate, had argued: "Whom shall we select to rule Bora Bora if we do depose

  the king?"

  The High Priest had hoped that this question would not be raised, because he did not wish to stand forth among his followers as the originator of a plan that had indeed been devised by the generality of priests, so he had equivocated and said, "Oro has chosen a successor."

  "Who?" the old man had pressed. "Oro has chosen Tehani's father, the great chief of Tatai." There had been a long silence as the enormity of this decision struck the priests, for they were Bora Bora bred, and what was proposed was nothing less than the submission of their isknd to the ruling house of Havaiki, a thing never accomplished in the past by siege or war or contrivance. The High Priest had known that this intelligence must at first be repugnant, so before anyone could speak, he had added, "It is Oro who has chosen Tatai."

  The invocation of Oro's name among men who had only recently staked their lives on this god, effectively halted comment, and the High Priest had continued: "That is why Tatai has urged his daughter Tehani to become the wife of Teroro. He will move to Havaiki and take with him most of his vigorous supporters, and they will soon become swallowed up among the men or Havaiki. Tatai, when he becomes king of Bora Bora, has agreed to leave his wives behind and to marry our women. In this way, Oro will be supreme." He had not added that when this was accomplished, he hoped to move his own headquarters to the great temple at Havaiki, and that at such time he would take along with him those Bora Bora subordinates who most heartily supported his master pkn. But none of his listeners required to be told this, and with these exciting though! coursing through their minds the holy men returned to Bora B

  The twenty-seven surviving crewmen had few coherent thoughts, They had watched, helpless, while their original number was decimated by the power of Oro, and they had shared their leaders' confusion. Contrary to what the High Priest believed, they were, gratified rather than disturbed by the fact that Teroro had spent hisl time with Tehani, for Mato had spread the news that Teroro must be got back to Bora Bora alive. They suspected that King Tamatoa

  FROM THE SUN-SWEPT LAGOON

  47

  had some solid plan of revenge, and they hoped to be a part of it. But beyond animal revenge they could not see.

  There was one emotion which all in the boat shared, for at the end of the day, just before entering the home lagoon, the travelers saw the sun sink toward the west, throwing rich golden lights upon their magic island, and each man, no matter what his plots, instinctively felt: "This is the beautiful isknd. This is the land upon which the gods have spent particular care."

  For to see Bora Bora at the end of a journey, with sunset upon the peaks, with dark night drifting in upon the valleys, and with sea birds winging homeward; to see the red line of sunset climbing the mountain faces until the top was reached, and darkness, and to cry, "Hold! Hold! Let it remain day until I touch the shore!" and to catch within the lagoon the sounds of children at play and the echoes of home, while outside the reef the ocean roared�to have known Bora Bora at such a moment was to have known beauty.

  It was with enhanced regret, therefore, that King Tamatoa led his brother to the pakce and bade him recline on the pandanus mats, whereupon the king carefully lowered the matting walls, and when he was thus protected from spies, lay down facing Teroro. Secretly and in a low voice he delivered the striking words: "I have decided that we must leave Bora Bora."

  Teroro was stunned. He had never even contemplated such a retreat, for he still did not appreciate the untenable position into which he and his brother had been maneuvered. "Why should we leave?" he gasped.

  "There is no place for us here any longer."

  "We can fight! We can kill . . ."

  "Whom shall we fight? The people? The other islands?"

  "We could . . ."

  "We can do nothing, Teroro."

  "But where can we go?"

  "To the north."

  This simple phrase carried implications that were difficult for Teroro to digest, and as the idea climbed from one level of his consciousness to another he could only repeat his brother's startling words. "To the north?" He recalled that other canoes had left for the north centuries before, legendary canoes which had never re-; turned. There existed, however, a mysterious old chant which pur-Sported to give sailing directions to a distant land that lay under h the Seven Little Eyes, the holy constelktion whose rising launched the new year, and some said that this chant implied that at least one of the legendary canoes must have returned, and words from the chant came to his mind:

  Sail to the Seven Little Eyes,

  To the land guarded by Little Eyes.

  48HAWAII

  But as soon as he spolce the words he gre
w angry, for they conjured up a picture of him fleeing Bora Bora.

  "Why should we go?" he blustered.

  "Don't take refuge in empty words, Teroro," the Icing snapped impatiently. "When you sailed to Nuku Hiva, did you find any certain knowledge of any of the canoes that have sailed to the north?"

  "No."

  "I understand there's an old sailing chant."

  "No one knows for sure where it came from."

  "What does it say?"

  "If I remember, it says to sail until you come to land that lies under the Seven Little Eyes."

  "How many days?"

  "Some men say thirty, some say fifty."

  "Teroro, if we decided to sail with the next big storm that brings us a west wind, how many people could we carry on our canoe?"

  "Would they let us take Wait-for-the-West-Wind?"

  "If not, we would have to fight for it."

  "Goodl" Teroro grunted, for now he could begin to see specific action.

  "How many men?" Tamatoa pressed.

  "About sixty."

  "And all supplies?"

  "Everything."

  "And a house for our gods?"

  "Yes."

  The brothers lay on the matting with their faces at arm's length apart, whispering, and finally Tamatoa asked, "Who should join us?"

  Teroro quickly rattled off the names of many warriors: "Hiro, Mato, Pa . . ."

  "We aren't going to battle," Tamatoa corrected. "We are going to the north . . . forever."

  In the hushed room the word overcame Teroro. "Leave Bora Bora forever?" He leaped to his feet and cried, "We'll kill the High Priest tonight!"

  Tamatoa grabbed him by one leg and hauled him down to the matting. "We are concerned with a great voyage, not revenge."

  But Teroro cried, "At the convocation I and my men were ready to fight all the islands if anyone touched you, Tamatoa. We would have strewn the temple with bodies. We feel the same way now."

  Tamatoa smiled and said, "But the High Priest outsmarted you, didn't he?"

  Teroro pressed his fingers into a tight knot and mumbled, "How did it happen? Our plan was so good."

  "Oro has triumphed," the king said sadly. "We had better take, our gods and go."

  Teroro growled, "I should like to be set free on Havaiki one night before we go. They'd never put out the fires."

  FROM THE SUN-SWEPT LAGOON49

  "Is there anyone on Bora Bora who knows the directions north?" "Our uncle. It was Tupuna who taught them to me." "Is he loyal to Oro?" Tamatoa asked. 'Yes, but I think he is also loyal to you." "Impossible," Tamatoa objected.

  "For wise old men like Tupuna, many things are possible," Teroro laughed. "Do you want me to call him?" "Wait. Won't he be in session with the others?" "They don't pay much attention to him," Teroro explained. "They suspect he's loyal to you."

  "We wouldn't dare take so long a voyage without a priest," Tamatoa said gravely. "To be alone on the ocean for fifty days . . ." "I would want a priest along," Teroro agreed. "Who would read the omens?" And he sent a messenger to fetch old Tupuna.

  In the interim the brothers resumed their positions and their planning. "Can we gather all we need?" the king asked. "We can get spears and helmets . . ." "Brother!" Tamatoa cried impatiently. "For the last time, we are not going forth on some adventure. What I mean is can you get breadfruit shoots that will survive? Seed coconuts? Bred sows? And some good eating dogs? We would need a thousand fishhooks and two thousand lengths of sennit. Can you get those things?" "I'll get them," Teroro said. "Keep thinking about whom we shall take with us." Again Teroro rattled off the easy names and again the king interrupted: "Find a man who can make knives, one who can strip pandanus, a good fishhook man." "Well, if we take sixty men it ought to be easy . . ." "I've been counting the spaces in my mind," Tamatoa reflected. "We can take only thirty-seven men, six slaves, and fifteen women." "Women," Teroro gasped.

  "Suppose the land to the north is empty," Tamatoa mused. "Suppose there are no women. We would watch our friends set their feet upon the rainbow, one by one, and each man as he left would be forever irreplaceable. There would be no children." "Will you take a wife?" Teroro asked.

  "I will take none of my present wives," the king replied. "I'll take Natabu, so that we can have royal children." "I'll take Marama."

  The king hesitated, then took his brother by the hands. "Marama may not go," he said gravely. "We will take only women who can bear children."

  "I would not want to go without Marama," the younger man said. "She is my wisdom."

  "I am sorry, brother," the king said with complete finality. "Only women who can bear children."

  "Then I won't go," Teroro said flatly.

  "I need you," the king replied. "Don't you know any young girl to take?" Before Teroro could reply, the flaps parted and his uncle,

  50HAWAII

  old Tupuna of the white topknot and the flowing beard, came into the palace. He was nearly seventy, a remarkable age in the islands, where a man of thirty-three like the king was already an elder, so he spoke with exceptional authority.

  "I come to my brother's sons," he said gravely, taking a seat on the matting near them. "I come to my own children."

  The king studied the old man carefully, and then said in a low voice, "Uncle, we place our safety in your hands."

  In a striking voice mellowed by years and wisdom Tupuna said, "You're planning to leave Bora Bora and want me to join you."

  The brothers gasped and looked about lest any spies should have lingered, but the old man reassured them. "All the priests know you're planning to leave," he said benevolently. "We've just been discussing it."

  "But we didn't know ourselves until we entered this room an hour ago," Teroro protested.

  "It's the only sensible thing to do," Tupuna pointed out.

  "Will you join us?" Tamatoa asked directly.

  "Yes. I told the priests I was loyal to Oro, but I could not let my family depart without an intercessor with the gods."

  "We couldn't go without you," Teroro said.

  "Will they let us take Wait-for-the-West-Wind?" the king asked.

  "Yes," the old man replied. "I pleaded for that in particular, because when I was younger I helped consecrate the trees that built this canoe. I shall be happy to have it my grave."

  "Your grave?" Teroro asked. "I expect to reach land! Somewhere!"

  "All men who set forth in canoes expect to reach land," the old man laughed indulgently. "But of all who leave, none ever return."

  "Teroro just told me that you knew sailing directions," the king protested. "Somebody must have returned."

  "There are sailing directions," the old priest admitted. "But where did they come from? Are they a dream? They tell us only to sail to land guarded by the Seven Little Eyes. Perhaps the chant refers only to the dream of all men that there must be a better land somewhere."

  "Then we know nothing about this journey?" Tamatoa interrupted.

  "Nothing," Tupuna replied. Then he corrected himself. "We do know one thing. It's better than staying here."

  There was silence, and then Teroro surprised the king by asking, "Have they agreed to let us take our gods, Tane and Ta'aroa?"

  "Yes," the old man said.

  "I am glad," Teroro said. "When a man gets right down to the ocean's edge . . . when he is really starting on a voyage like this . . ."

  He did not finish, but Tupuna spoke for him. He said, in a deep prophetic voice, "Are there people where we go? No one knows. Are there fair women? No one knows. Will we find coconuts

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  51

  and taro and breadfruit and fat pigs? Will we even find land? AH that we know, sons of my brother, sons of my heart, is that if we are in the hands of the gods, even if we perish on the great ocean, we will not die unnoticed."

  "And we know one thing more," the king added. "If we stay here we shall slowly, one by one, be sacrificed, and all our family and all our friends. Oro has
ordained it. He has triumphed." "May I tell the High Priest that? It will make our departure easier." In complete humbleness of spirit, King Tamatoa replied, "You may tell him."

  At this moment there came from the beach a sound which thrilled the three plotters, converting them at once from mature men into the children that they essentially were; and as each heard the exciting message, his eyes widened with joy and he threw off whatever badges of position he might have been wearing and ran toward the palace door, looking out into the starry darkness with the same pulsating thrill he had known as a boy.

  For there along the waterfront, in the midnight hour, the citizens of Bora Bora, without king or priest, had assembled with drums 'and nose flutes for a night of wild merriment. The apprehensions of the convocation were ended and childish revelry was again in command. Therefore, with only the rank of commoners, Tamatoa, Tupuna and Teroro hurried eagerly to the beach. A raucous old woman was yelling, as they came, "Let me show you how our great helmsman Hiro steers a canoe!" And in superb mimicry she became not an old woman with few teeth, but a malicious lampoon of young Hiro steering his canoe; in a dozen ways she caught his mannerisms: the way he looked out to sea, and his swagger; but what she steered was not the canoe's tiller but the make-believe male genitals of another old woman who was playing the part of the canoe. When the steering was done, the first woman screamed, "He's very smart, Hiro!"

  The crowd bellowed, particularly when they saw Teroro applauding the vicious mimicry of his helmsman. "I'll bet she really could steer a canoel" he shouted.

  "You'd be surprised at what I could do!" the lascivious old woman replied. But the crowd left her antics and started to applaud as blunt Malo, from the other side of the island, suddenly wrapped a bit of yellow tapa about his shoulders and made believe he was fat Tatai of Havaiki, executing ridiculous steps to the music and lampooning that chief's pompous ways. To the great joy of the assembly, King Tamatoa nimbly leaped into the smoky arena and took his place beside Malo, and both imitated Tatai, each more foolishly than his competitor, until at last it was difficult to say which was Malo and which the king. The foolish little dance ended with Tamatoa sitting exhausted in the dust, laughing madly as if he had no cares.