The Navigator

by Morris West

‘There’s no answer. I’m lying out here and looking at you and thinking that your eyes have stars in them, and your breasts are beautiful and you’re warm to lie with and easy to laugh with – and a bitch to fight!…Also that we’ve got through one more day, and who’s going to cut timber and who’s going to work on the plantation terrace and how the hell will we cope with day-flying mosquitoes…And if you don’t start paddling we’ll be on the reef!’

  ‘Gunnar Thorkild, you’re impossible! The next time I…’

  ‘Hold it a minute!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I thought I heard a shout. Let’s go back!’

  By the time they reached the beach, the crowd was waiting – shocked and sinister and angry. Peter Lorillard gave him the story. They had just dispersed to their huts. He had taken up his post by the fire when he heard a cry from the store-hut. Charlie Kamakau had cut his way through the matting wall and was waiting in ambush behind the pile of salvage. He had attacked Barbara with a knife. She was badly wounded but alive. Tioto and Simon Cohen had disarmed him. They, too, were hurt. Charlie Kamakau was bound and insensible after his beating.

  The scene around the fire-pit was a gory one. Barbara was slashed on breasts, arms and belly and was bleeding profusely. Tioto’s hands were cut and Simon Cohen was torn along the neck and the jawline. Sally Anderton organized the women quickly to cleanse the men’s wounds and staunch their bleeding, while she set to work, with Thorkild, on Barbara Kamakau. It was fast, rough surgery: cleanse and clamp and sew; then start on the next lesion. It would leave scars. There would be no cosmetic treatment to obliterate them afterwards; but the girl would live, and the boys would mend quickly; except that Tioto would be maimed afterwards, because the tendons of his left palm were severed.

  When Sally had finished, the wounded were dosed with the last of the ship’s morphine and put to rest in the huts, with the women to nurse them during the night. Then Thorkild, Sally and Peter Lorillard walked over to the store-hut where Willy Kuhio was standing guard over Charlie Kamakau. He was trussed like a chicken, in cordage salvaged from the ship. He was bruised and bloody, but conscious now, and uncannily calm. Sally Anderton sponged his face and gave him water and spoke to him gently:

  ‘Charlie, do you recognize me?’

  ‘Sure, I recognize you. You’re Mrs Anderton.’

  ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘I had to. I was told. Nothing would go right until she was dead.’

  ‘She’s not dead, Charlie.’

  ‘They won’t blame me for that. I tried. I can try again afterwards. Could you take these ropes off me? I’m very tired. I’d like to sleep.’

  ‘I’ll give you something to make you sleep Charlie; but the ropes must stay on. Otherwise you’ll do more harm.’

  ‘I didn’t mean harm – only to Barbara!’

  ‘You wounded Tioto who is your friend, and Simon Cohen who used to play music and sing for you.’

  ‘Only because they tried to stop me. They shouldn’t have done that! Barbara was the bad one.’

  ‘All right Charlie. I’ll be back in a moment to give you something for sleep. Stay quiet now. No one will hurt you.’

  She walked out of the hut, signing to Thorkild and Lorillard to follow her. She answered their question before they uttered it.

  ‘He’s gone – far gone. I’ll fill him up with barbiturate and let him sleep. He may be more rational in the morning; though I doubt it.’

  Lorillard said flatly:

  ‘You put him to sleep and let Thorkild and me take him out to the deep water and dump him. It would be a mercy for him and everybody else.’

  ‘It would also be murder,’ said Thorkild. ‘If he’s lucid in the morning, he must answer for himself. If he’s not, we’ll discuss, in full meeting, what’s to be done with him.’

  ‘I’ll get the tablets,’ said Sally Anderton.

  When she had gone, Lorillard rounded on Thorkild. He was bitterly angry.

  ‘Listen man! You’re the big Chief. I’m one of your counsellors and I’ll guarantee you the votes of the others. Why don’t we settle this thing now, cleanly and mercifully? Why put everyone through another agony? Haven’t you ever heard of triage? You get a mess of wounded. You sort ’em out – one, two, three – those you can save, those you might and those that already have the mark of death on them. You let them go as painlessly as possible…I’ve been through it. If you haven’t the stomach for it I’ll do it myself.’

  ‘You won’t – and here’s why! We’re one tribe with a sick member. Our responsibility is both personal and collective. We’ll face it together; because, whatever is done, we’ll all have to live with it afterwards. We’ll have no heroes and no scapegoats. Clear?’

  ‘Crap!’ said Lorillard.

  ‘If you like.’ Thorkild was grim. ‘But you dispose of other people’s lives too easily Lorillard – your wife’s, your kids’, ours too! Those signal buoys weren’t all in the hold. Two at least were in your cabin! You were testing them the day I took command.’

  ‘You can’t prove that! I put them back in the hold afterwards.’

  ‘I don’t want to prove it. I left you to make the decision. I’m not complaining about it. But I don’t trust you enough to have you as judge, jury and executioner…You’ve finished your watch, mister! Now go to bed, for God’s sake!’

  Sally Anderton’s prognosis proved wrong. When they saw him early in the morning, Charlie Kamakau was lucid, if still a long way from normality. He remembered what he had done; but he spoke of it as if there were two men concerned, the one possessed and driven by the other. He spoke of himself as Charlie and of the other as the kapu man. When the kapu man held the club and the magic pestle in his hands, voices spoke to him in the old tongue: big, commanding voices, telling him that the fruit would wither and the land lie sterile unless blood were poured to make it fertile. He believed the voices, because he knew how it was in the old days…Charlie still hated Barbara, but not enough to kill her. He would like Thorkild to tell everyone Charlie was sorry for their trouble – Barbara too, because she was punished now, and she would not be able to flaunt herself and destroy other men. Charlie understood he must be tried; but he did not want to be present or to speak, in case he should be shamed again. If Carl Magnusson and the Chief would explain things, that was all he asked. He didn’t really care whether he lived or died. One day everyone would eat from the land he had opened up. He had proved, hadn’t he, that he was a man?…He could not understand why he was still bound. Charlie meant no evil to anyone; but the kapu man must be obeyed.

  Outside, while the others were still moving sluggishly about their waking tasks, Gunnar Thorkild briefed Sally Anderton on her part in the council. He, himself, would ask her some questions which she would answer to the best of her ability. For the rest, she was free to join in the discussion or abstain from it. What were the questions? In fairness to the group, he must reserve them. She agreed, wearily. The sooner the whole mess was cleared up the better. Barbara was too sick to be present. She was still in shock and there were disquieting signs of infection. She warned Thorkild he would face a hostile and demoralized assembly. To add to their joys, Carl Magnusson was not well. The long walk up the mountain and the night’s disturbance had sent his blood pressure soaring; but he still insisted on attending the meeting. She herself was holding up, but she would be glad if Thorkild would take a swim with her before the assembly.

  As they walked down to the beach, Martha Gilman joined them. She was worried about Mark. She had asked him to look after Barbara while the discussion was going on. He had refused sulkily and Lorillard had slapped him. Then she and Lorillard had quarrelled and he had accused her of destroying his necessary authority over the boy. Thorkild grinned sourly at this last gratuitous mess. He told Martha:

  ‘… I think the boy should be at the meeting, Martha. He’ll get a rough lesson in tribal morality;
and – who knows? – he may even have something to contribute to the discussion. You don’t have to back down. I’ll just tell him I’ve over-ruled your decision; because I think it’s time he learned to behave like a man.’

  Half an hour later, they were all gathered, some sitting, some standing, others sprawled on the sand, with Thorkild seated on an upturned can facing them, as if he and not Charlie Kamakau were under indictment. He waited until they were settled and silent, then rose to address them, not as a high man this time, but as an equal, puzzled and perturbed.

  ‘… We are here to decide the fate of a fellow human being, a comrade of our voyage and our misfortune. We must decide it together, with all the wisdom and compassion we can command. I stress “together”, because we cannot make any single one a scapegoat for our decisions. Some of you know, and some of you do not, the history of the Bounty mutineers on Pitcairn. Even today, that tiny community is haunted by the memory of murder and violence perpetrated by its founders. We must spare ourselves and our children such a horrible burden. We must make our decision in common, and bear, in common, the responsibility for it. Everyone must speak. Everyone must vote – even the boy, Mark Gilman here, because he will inherit the consequences of what we now decide. As your Chief I shall begin; then, as each one speaks, all of you must feel free to challenge or interrogate. Have I made myself clear? ‘… Doctor Sally Anderton, will you stand please?’

  She stood, stony-faced, but calm and erect.

  ‘Have I informed you of my questions or prompted your answers?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you understand that you can answer freely?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘First question. In your opinion, is Charlie Kamakau a sane man?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is he responsible in a legal or moral sense for what he has done?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Again, in your opinion, is he competent to answer for what he has done before this assembly.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you specify the nature of his condition?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m competent to do that. I’m a physician with a very limited experience of mental diseases.’

  ‘Could you tell us, or even guess, whether the condition is curable?’

  ‘I simply don’t know.’

  ‘Is he or is he not still a risk to this community?’

  ‘In my opinion, he is still a risk – to himself and others.’

  ‘Should we ask him to plead before this assembly?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘Thank you Doctor. Now …’ He was very calm, very judicial. ‘… The question is clear: what do we do with a sick and incompetent man who has committed violence, who may repeat it, for whom the best opinion we have offers no guarantee of cure. You may specify by statement or amplify the issue by question. Carl Magnusson?’

  ‘A question for you Chief. Can we separate him permanently and securely from the rest of us?’

  ‘From what I know of the geography of the island, that’s impossible.’

  ‘To you then, Sally: what would happen if we confined him permanently in or near the camp?’

  ‘It would drive him into permanent insanity and demoralize the rest of us.’

  ‘Thank you. I reserve my conclusion. Back to you, Chief.’

  ‘Molly Kaapu?’

  ‘I say Charlie had a bad run. He did bad things, sure; but I think he would come back, if we hold him quiet a while.’

  ‘Can you suggest how we might do that?’

  ‘Well…no, I can’t. I’d like to think about it while the rest of you talk.’

  ‘Mister Lorillard?’

  ‘I’ve already stated my opinion. The man is, unfortunately, beyond help. I think we should dispose of him mercifully.’

  ‘In fact, kill him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yoko Nagamuna?’

  ‘I agree with Peter Lorillard. It could be done quickly and painlessly.’

  ‘Who would do it?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about that.’

  ‘Would you like to consider the question, while we continue? Simon Cohen?’

  ‘I pass. I’m a victim and prejudiced.’

  ‘Tioto?’

  ‘Charlie’s my friend. Everybody knows that, eh? But if we can’t cure him and can’t separate him, I say we put him to sleep quietly.’

  ‘Martha Gilman?’

  ‘I don’t know…I just don’t know.’

  ‘Willy Kuhio?’

  ‘Can I speak for Eva too?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘We talked about this all night. We think – but we can’t promise – if we took Charlie away, not back to the terrace but higher up or lower down, and we worked with him and looked after him, maybe he’d come good again. Trouble is we couldn’t lock him up, we wouldn’t. But we’d be willing to try – if the rest were willing to take the risk.’

  ‘Thanks Willy. Thank you too, Eva…Now I think we should hear from Mark Gilman.’

  ‘I’m like my mother. I don’t know. All I say is we got no right to kill someone, just like that, because it stops everything. I mean, there’s no afterwards. It just finishes there. Besides, who’s going to do it? And what do we say to them afterwards?’

  ‘Thank you Mark. These are important questions for all of us. Ellen Ching?’

  ‘Pass. I’ll wait for the vote – which, by the way, should be secret.’ ‘Point taken. Franz Harsanyi?’

  ‘If you accept Willy and Eva’s suggestion, I’ll go with them and help. It’s a long chance, but I’d be willing to take it.’

  ‘Hernan Castillo?’

  ‘Let me put it this way. If you can’t work a stone, you throw it away. If you can’t work a tree, you fell another one. I’m for a quick, clean solution; and in the end I think Charlie Kamakau would be grateful for it.’

  ‘Jenny?’

  ‘I’m with Willy and Eva and Franz. If you’ll let them look after him. I’ll help.’

  ‘Adam Briggs?’

  ‘I’m with Jenny.’

  ‘Sally, you answered opening questions. Do you want to speak for yourself?’

  ‘Yes I do.’ She was obviously under strain, but her voice was steady and she chose her words with singular care. ‘The abstainers simply duck the issue and hide themselves behind a secret vote. They help us not at all. They wash their hands like Pilate and give themselves an easy option for afterwards. Two solutions only have been offered. Death, or a kind of open therapy in a volunteer community. I have to say, with the deepest regret, that I do not believe that solution will work. Our group will be split and will become so much more vulnerable. Those who have the custody of Charlie will have a responsibility that none of us dare lay upon them. I think he may be curable. I cannot, in any good conscience, promise that he is. So we come to the next solution: death. It can be quick. It can be painless. It may well be the most merciful solution. Let me show you.’ She held up the hypodermic syringe from the ship’s medicine chest. ‘All you have to do is inject a bubble of air into a vein. The patient will die, in a brief spasm, as soon as the bubble reaches the heart. There’s only one question: who will do it? I will not, because I swore to cure, not to harm. Will you, Peter? You Yoko? You Hernan? Any of you abstainers? If that’s the way the vote goes, someone has to do it.’

  No one spoke. No one raised a hand. She passed the syringe to Thorkild and sat down. A moment later Tioto announced:

  ‘We’ve all spoken – except one. What do you say Chief?’

  Gunnar Thorkild stood up, tall and grotesque against the flare of the lamps. He said in a flat toneless voice:

  ‘I agree with everyone who has spoken here tonight – with those in favour of a merciful elimination, those who would offer themselves as voluntary custodians, those who, for whatever reason, abstain from offering an opinion. None of us must blame another for any thoughts expressed here tonight. Banishment is impossible – and even if possible, it would be an inhuman torture.
Death, administered as Sally Anderton describes, would be a discreet mercy. Custody would be an intolerable and corrupting burden on the custodians, and might expose us all later to recrimination and dissension. So what do we do? Kill a man we cannot cure? Attempt dangerously, a cure beyond our small resources? There is no argument that does not carry long and dangerous consequences. I therefore have decided to use the authority with which you have invested me, and the mana with which my ancestors have endowed me. Here is what we will do.

  Adam Briggs, you will rig the canoe, with mast and sail, paddles and fishing tackle and a knife. Molly Kaapu, you will provision it – with water and fruit and whatever else we have. We will give Charlie the boat and let him sail wherever he can. He is a good navigator. He has a better chance of survival than most, if he wishes to take it. Nothing that he has done here can touch him anywhere else in the world, because we are beyond the jurisdiction of any state or law. The sea has given new life, new hope to other men, perhaps it will do the same for Charlie Kamakau. Will you agree by vote?’

  ‘I agree,’ said Tioto swiftly. ‘If Charlie wants, I’ll go with him.’

  ‘He goes alone,’ said Thorkild curtly.

  ‘What do we do for a boat?’ asked Yoko Nagamuna.

  ‘We build another one – and live from the traps until we do.’

  ‘And why? …’ Peter Lorillard was bitter as wormwood. ‘… Why didn’t you propose this solution at the beginning?’

  ‘Don’t be angry Mister Lorillard.’ Eva Kuhio reached out to touch him. ‘None of us knows what bread costs until we do our own shopping.’

  ‘I reject that!’ Lorillard was shaking with fury. ‘I say the man we elected as our chief has deliberately trapped us into a series of admissions or opinions, that damage our esteem of one another. He did this in order to cement his own authority, by offering a simple solution of which he was already aware. I say this was a crude and cruel political trick, and that a man who would perpetrate it is unfit to lead us.’

  ‘Those are hard words Mister Lorillard.’ Adam Briggs was instantly on his feet. ‘I don’t deny your right to state any case before this group. But, now you’ve put this one, I’d like to examine it. You say the Chief deliberately trapped us. How?’