by Morris West
‘I’m sorry you did that, Jenny.’
‘So was I, afterwards.’
‘Did you tell him so?’
‘Yes. But he was all closed up, has been ever since.’
‘You challenged his manhood.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘No. He and I disagreed about how much he owed the group and how much he owed to you and to himself.’
‘That’s the argument you had with Sally isn’t it?…Oh, don’t look so surprised! That’s all over the camp too. I heard Molly Kaapu arguing with Sally, both shouting at each other…It’s a good thing you’re out of the way. Where’s it all going to end? Nothing can ever be the same after this – for any of us!’
‘Jenny, you know about putting things together again. You must do that with Adam.’
‘I’ve tried.’
‘Try again, harder and for as long as it takes.’
‘He won’t listen. He says …’
‘Says what, Jenny?’
‘He says there’s a ghost in our bed.’
‘There’s a ghost in everyone’s bed, Jenny. Mostly they’re dreams we’ve cherished too long, hopes we’ve remembered. Follies we’d like to have enjoyed. Only loving will chase them out.’
‘It takes two to make a loving.’
‘Never believe it…Always there’s the giver and the taker…which is why millionaires marry B-girls and the B-girls become patrons of starveling poets.’
‘You’re crazy, Prof!’
‘Nutty as a fruitcake, girl. Thanks for lunch. I’ve got work to do.’
By noon the next day the councillors were back, bringing with them the rest of the terrace folk: Lorillard, Martha Gilman, Barbara Kamakau and Eva Kuhio. Lorillard strolled down to the beach with Thorkild. He was uneasy and dispirited.
‘… We talked very late last night, and again for an hour this morning. It was a rough-and-tumble debate; and there were some pretty bitter exchanges. I’m still not sure how we should handle things today. Strictly speaking, I suppose, the council should inform you of its resolutions and then you open them for discussion in the full assembly. On the other hand, because people are sensitive and discouraged just now, we want to avoid any suspicion of secret dealing – especially where you’re concerned.’
‘The simplest way,’ Thorkild was firm about it, ‘is to have a full assembly. The spokesman for the council puts its views publicly to me and to the group. Then we throw the discussion open, as we did before.’
‘That’s fine.’ Lorillard hesitated. ‘But, frankly, Thorkild, we’re worried about you. You’ve been under strain. You’re personally involved, because of Sally. We don’t want another blow-up, like the one we had over Charlie Kamakau.’
‘There’ll be no fire-works,’ said Thorkild quietly.
‘I have to warn you, Sally will be dragged into the argument.’
‘Then she’ll answer for herself.’
‘As bad as that?’
‘I’m afraid so,’
‘In that case, I’d better tell you …’
‘Don’t tell me anything.’ Thorkild cut him off abruptly. ‘Let’s play it straight down the line.’
‘One more word. This isn’t a war-game. They’ll be using live ammunition.’
‘So be it,’ said Gunnar Thorkild heavily. ‘Let’s get started.’
It was a sombre group that gathered on the compound. Thorkild and Molly Kaapu sat together, with Lorillard and the members of the council opposite them and the rest of the tribe ranged on either side. Simply, and without rhetoric, Thorkild opened the meeting and called Lorillard to address it. Lorillard said:
‘I am asked to act as spokesman for the council which you elected. The Chief has asked that we report to him and to you at the same time. He has not heard – in fact he has refused to hear – any of the things I am about to tell you now. I hope that is clear to everyone…Now, I want to recall to you the principles by which we agreed to live on this island: our labour and the fruits of our labour would be a common trust for a common good; decisions made by the chief after consultation with his councillors or with the full assembly would be binding on us all; we agreed to obey them and …’ He paused a moment to emphasize the point. ‘… and we agreed to enforce obedience on one another. Do you agree with that summary?’
They agreed. The formality pleased them. It made them feel safe and important. They were the final arbiters of tribal destiny. Lorillard went on:
‘Now, at a critical moment in our lives, we have to interpret those principles, apply them to very special circumstances. We have to do justice, the best for the most. Now, because I do not wish even to appear to plead a case, I am handing over at this point to Ellen Ching …’
She rose to face them, cool and formidable.
‘We have two people who may be very seriously ill, and to whom we can offer no hope of treatment. The suggestion is that we send them out in our small boat with two other crew, so that they can sail to the nearest inhabited island and send back a rescue party. We’ve discussed this proposal in council and we recommend it to the Chief and to you. There is, however, a problem: Peter Lorillard is ready to go. Sally refuses. We, the council, say that Sally must be forced to go – for her own good and the good of the rest of us. Another matter: there is disagreement on who should make up the rest of the crew and how they should be chosen. Franz Harsanyi will talk to you about this …’
Franz was less formal but far more emphatic.
‘… Here’s the problem. Sally refuses to go. She says she’s got a right to dispose of her own self. We say, if she stays, it’s not for her good or ours; and she, like the rest of us, agreed that obedience should be enforced. Next: who’s the crew? We’ve got Lorillard who’s a good sailor, Mark Gilman who’s a good navigator, Willy Kuhio, Adam Briggs and the chief himself. The chief’s ready to go single-handed. Some of us think he’s more needed here. Willy and Briggs are married. They’re naturally concerned for their wives, if anything happens to them. Adam doesn’t want to go. He’d be happy to end his days in this place…On the other hand he made the same promise as we all did – common labour for a common good…Now, that’s as honest as I can make it. That’s as far as the council could get. We agree with the first principles. We want the project to work. How do we make it work so that it’s fair to everyone? From here on, we’d like to hear your opinions.’
Mark Gilman stood in his place.
‘May I be heard, please Chief?’
‘You may.’
He stood for a long moment in silence, surveying them with so plain a contempt that it shocked them all. Then he began to speak, vividly, passionately, like some young Baptist with the dust of the desert still on him.
‘… Last night, while you all slept, I went up to the high place. I sat among the dead men, watching the stars. I saw the sun rise this morning. There is a voice that speaks up there. The Chief has heard it. So have I…I heard it again last night and again at sunrise. It told me about every one of you. It told me to speak to you all and tell you the terrible things you are doing to each other. You began so well. You were kind. You worked together. You shared the things you grew and the fish you caught. You laughed and you sang and you put flowers on the graves…Even when you were angry you made peace afterwards. Now, look at you! Your faces are like stone. Even the skulls of the dead men are not so frightening. You, Mother! Your husband is sick; and I never see you smile at him or say a kind word. You, Adam Briggs! You were once a friend to the Chief and to his grandfather, Kaloni. Now you’re too angry to look at him because you’re afraid he may be the ghost in your bed. Oh yes, I know about the ghost! I went up where ghosts should be; and there are none – only the voice. You, Sally? You are not afraid of dying – Oh no! – you’re afraid of the sea, and you would rather ask your man to kill you, than risk yourself in a small boat on the great water…You do evil – all of you. You spread it like a sickness to everyone else. You wanted to meet today not to put things together, but to pull them to pieces, make a
pile of rubbish and then command the Chief to take it away for you…You want everything for nothing. You want to stay, you want to go. But each of you wants the next one to pay the price…I look at you and I’m afraid, because I see death in your eyes. But the voice told me…the voice …’
He gave a high choking cry and crumpled in the sand, writhing and moaning. Thorkild went to him, picked him up and carried him across the compound to his own hut. Sally and Martha hurried after him; he ordered them back.
‘Tell Lorillard to take the chair and finish the meeting.’
‘But Mark’s sick.’ It was Martha’s anguished cry.
‘No! We’re the sick ones. He’s cured.’
A long time afterwards, when the boy was sleeping quietly, Thorkild went back to the compound. They were still seated as he had left them, eyes downcast, murmuring quietly among themselves. They fell silent at his approach. Then, when he was seated, Adam Briggs said respectfully:
‘Chief, our people ask me to put certain questions to you.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Did you send Mark Gilman to the high place?’
‘No.’
‘Did you know he was going?’
‘No. Had I known, I should have forbidden it.’
‘Did you know that he intended to speak at this meeting?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you suggest what he should say or coach him in any fashion?’
‘No.’
‘What then, in your view, prompted his words?’
‘My view can have no relevance at this time.’
‘We would, nevertheless, be grateful if you would express it.’
‘I think,’ said Thorkild deliberately, ‘I think he may have had what the old Greek healers used to call the experience of God. I have no words to express it more clearly, and none at all to explain it.’
‘You believe that he heard what he called the Voice?’
‘I believe that he believes he heard it.’
‘Thank you Chief. I can now tell you that decisions have been taken and we should like you to ratify them. We will send the small boat. Sally and Peter will go. I’ll be crewman. We’d like Mark Gilman as navigator.’
‘And you are all agreed?’
‘Seems we couldn’t do anything else,’ said Eva Kuhio. ‘We heard truth today from that small one – like one of the prophets shouting over the land of Israel.’
‘There are other matters.’ Lorillard took the weight off her words. ‘We’ll need training.’
‘We’ll begin it tomorrow,’ said Thorkild. ‘I’ll work with the men, each morning and also after dark. I’ll have you ready in a week.’
‘If we don’t make it,’ said Adam Briggs carefully. ‘There will be two wives and a child to be cared for.’
‘They’ll be cherished,’ said Thorkild. ‘And when we, at some later stage, finish the big boat and go home, they’ll be cared for. I have funds. I will have my interest on the publication of this voyage. Those proceeds will be reserved for the women-folk and the children. Anything else?’
‘My boy,’ asked Martha Gilman. ‘Is he…is he all right?’
‘Yes. But you shouldn’t speak to him about what happened. None of you should.’
‘Can you explain why?’ There was a hint of malice in Simon Cohen’s question.
‘Put it this way.’ Thorkild answered him without hesitation. ‘You’re a musician. Whom do you ask to explain the music – the flute or the man who blows it?’
When the evening meal was over he walked with Sally to the cascade and they sat dangling their feet in the cool moonlit water. Sally was still distant and constrained, but at least no longer hostile. Their talk was halting and shy as if they had just met after a long sojourn apart. Finally she told him:
‘Gunnar, I’ve got a confession to make.’
‘Forget it, sweetheart!’
‘No. I must tell you. Those questions Adam Briggs put to you…It was I who prompted them.’
‘The important thing is whether you believed the answers.’
‘Yes: but they didn’t tell me anything.’
‘They told all I know. Mark went to the high place without my knowledge. He came back and made that extraordinary speech.’
‘Which was your speech really, my love. All the things I’ve ever heard you say, about the old ways, the good ways…and how we spoil them.’
‘I didn’t prompt him.’
‘No – but you’ve been educating him, conditioning him for weeks and months. Your print is on him now – for always.’ She gave a little shrug of defeat. ‘Not that it matters. The magic worked. God spoke through the child. The High Chief was vindicated and restored to power.’
‘Do you really believe that’s what I tried to do?’
‘It’s what happened; and it’s what you wanted to happen.’
‘Then why did you decide to go?’
‘Because I was moved and convinced…That’s the real mystery isn’t it? Tell me something, Gunnar.’
‘What?’
‘If and when we get through, if and when you’re taken off the island, what about us?’
‘On my part, my love, there’s no question. We’re married. I love you…We go on together.’
‘Where?’
‘You name it. I’ll be there.’
‘You could find me disfigured – and still sick.’
‘Then I’ll care for you.’
‘You still don’t see it, do you?’
‘All I see is that I love you, Sally.’
‘But not enough to give me what I wanted!… What you thought I needed, yes! What you thought was right, yes! You broke me to that. Not with malice, with love! But you broke me, just the same.’
‘And now you hate me.’
‘I wish I could. I love you Gunnar, but if I stayed with you now, I’d be fighting you for the rest of my days.’
‘Is this what happened with Magnusson?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You love the high man – until you find you can’t bend him.’
‘Put it that way, yes!’
‘I’m sorry you were disappointed.’
‘You can hate me now.’
‘No. I’m too grateful for the good times.’
‘That’s my Gunnar! The wind comes and the house blows down. You grin and start building again, and again …’
‘What else is there to do?’
‘What else indeed!… Don’t come with me! I’d like to be alone for a while.’
Casual, yet watchful as loungers on an alley corner, the men were waiting for him by the big canoe. Hernan Castillo was trying out a new adze, the others watching as he hacked steadily into the belly of the hardwood log. He looked up as Thorkild approached and tossed him the tool.
‘Take a look at that blade, Chief. Best I’ve done, so far.’
Thorkild examined it with elaborate care and tested it on the bow of the canoe.
‘Good! How long did that take?’
‘About three weeks…Probably the last one I’ll make eh, Chief?’
An instant before he spoke, Thorkild saw the snare. He forced a smile and said:
‘A month or two from now, it’ll be worth a thousand dollars in Honolulu.’
‘I’ll be rich.’ Castillo laughed. ‘How many of these damn things have I made?’
‘Small reminder.’ It was easier to smile now. ‘In the contract, all artifacts came under the head of exploitable material. Profits therefore belong to the expedition organizers.’
‘What about this baby?’ Simon Cohen slapped the hull with his hand. ‘I’ve spent so much sweat on her. I kind of hate to leave her.’
‘Why leave her?’ asked Franz Harsanyi. ‘Heyerdahl shipped a whole raft back to Oslo for a museum piece.’
‘Hard to believe,’ said Tioto. ‘We could be home so soon. Eva Kuhio was right. It’s the bad things that make you reach out for the better ones. If our people hadn’t fallen sick we’d have been content to
wait here until this big baby was finished!’
Adam Briggs, who had been standing apart, moved into the talk:
‘How’s the boy, Chief?’
‘He’s fine.’
‘I hope so. If he’s navigator we’re going to have to rely on his memory and his figuring.’
‘You’ll see him tested every day while we’re training. And you’ll have Peter Lorillard for a back-up. You’ll find that navigation isn’t the biggest problem, it’s the boat-handling and the care you take of yourselves.’
‘Sally’s still hating the whole idea.’
‘Once she’s at sea, and committed with the rest of you, she’ll measure up to the need.’
‘I know; but it’ll be a rough ride for her.’
‘It’ll be rough for all of us.’ The snare was visible again. ‘You’ll be logging progress every day. We’ll just be waiting.’
‘I bought the package, Chief,’ said Adam Briggs with thin humour. ‘You don’t have to sell it any more.’
‘Don’t push me, Mister Briggs!’ Thorkild was filled with a sudden, cold anger! ‘You bought a package which means hope for everyone – you included.’
‘We take the risk Chief.’ Briggs was very calm. ‘You get the hope.’
‘Do you want to pull out?’
‘No.’
‘Then shut up Adam! When my wife leaves with you, she’s sailing out of my life; because I’ve forced her to take a chance for her own survival. So, if we’re talking prices, don’t forget I’m picking up my share of the tab.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘You do now.’ He faced them, a tight hard man, bayed at last into a corner from which he must fight his way out. ‘You all know it! You want my job? Come, take it! You think you can do it better; you’re welcome to try, any time! There’s just so much of Gunnar Thorkild to spend and I’ve spent it all. You don’t like what Daddy bought you? Too bad! Go earn your own dollars and buy your own hamburgers. But you hear me now, because it’s the last time I’ll say it. So long as you live on Thorkild’s Island, you keep your goddam mouths shut and do as you’re goddam told!… See you at sunrise for sea-trials, Mister Briggs!’
He turned on his heel and left them. Simon Cohen gave a long whistle of surprise.
‘Well! How about that? You prick us and we do bleed…My God how we bleed!’
