by Morris West
Adam Briggs rounded on him savagely.
‘One more word from you, boy, and I’ll break your neck. That’s a bigger man than you’ll ever be in a million years.’
‘He wants to be dictator.’
‘You’ve got it wrong,’ said Franz Harsanyi. ‘That’s what we want. We’re just not honest enough to admit it.’
Every morning at sunrise, every night at sunset, fair sea or foul, he took them out, working them until they could read every shift of the wind, anticipate every quirk of the small craft. He studied their motions as they paddled, taught them the rhythm of work and rest, the trick of relieving themselves from a tiny moving craft, and how to catch fish and save them from the predators that came snapping after the catch. He showed them how to stow food and conserve water and refill their gourds from the rain-showers.
Several times, with bullying and cajoling, he forced Sally to go out, to accustom her to the motion and to the panic solitude of the big sea. Always at the back of his mind was the hope that, once the enterprise had become measurable in her mind, once the immensity of sea-space and sky had lost its terror, she would relent and turn to him again. But before the week was out, the hope had faded and he resigned himself to his winter solitude.
Finally, when he judged them as ready as they would ever be, he ordered every lashing and fixing on the boat renewed and tested, new tackle to be prepared, food, fresh and dry, to be made ready, and water gourds filled and sealed. He made his last entries in the log of the Frigate Bird, sewed it into a piece of canvas, wrapped it again in matting, sealed the matting with sap from the breadfruit tree, and consigned it to the care of Peter Lorillard. It was, as Lorillard remarked, like handing over the proceedings of a lifetime, the tablets of a people forgotten by history.
Then, moved by an impulse of primitive piety, he suggested that the voyagers might like to go up with him to the high place. Sally refused. Lorillard declined with an apology. He wanted to save his strength. Adam Briggs said with a smile:
‘No thanks, Chief. That’s your past, not mine…I hope you understand.’
‘I do.’
‘Talk to me a minute?’
‘Sure.’
‘You and I, we got away from each other somehow. I’d like us to be friends again.’
‘So would I …’
‘I want to thank you for what you’ve taught me. You’ll never know what it means to a man whose ancestors came over in the holds of slave-ships, whose boyhood was spent in a shanty-town…I’m sorry about you and Sally.’
‘No way to mend it, Adam.’
‘We’ll get her home safe.’
‘I know you will.’
‘If we don’t…’
‘Never think it.’
‘Let’s not kid each other, Chief. I know the odds are good; but the risks are big. So, if we don’t make it, look after my Jenny…I mean, I know you’ll look after everyone, but for her, a special care, eh? I don’t want her drifting about, like she did in the old days, belonging to no one.’
‘I understand.’
‘I guess you do.’ He gave a small embarrassed laugh. ‘It’s funny. Last night we were talking about you. Jenny said you were like old Father Noah, with all his family in the Ark…We were the birds he was sending out to find dry land again. I didn’t like to mention that it was the raven that didn’t come back…Tell me something, Chief.’
‘What?’
‘Suppose it all works out fine, and a few weeks from now the Navy is standing out there off the reef…Will you be glad or sad?’
‘I’ll be glad.’
‘And you wouldn’t want to stay here?’
‘No.’
‘Because of Sally?’
‘Partly…Partly because of what I’ve learned in these last few months. I don’t have any land-hunger. So possession, privacy, dominion for their own sake, don’t interest me. The past, the history, the legends – those things, yes. They represented a part of my identity, which I had to grasp and hold, otherwise I’d be incomplete all my life. Well, I’ve got it now. I’ve lived it from the beginning to the end, which is up there on the high place. The rest: the struggle to survive, organize, hold together…that was a challenge we met, a triumph for which we’ve paid quite dearly. We’ve had a lot of casualties. None of us will ever be quite the same again…But we’ve discovered one big truth. The earthly paradise is our oldest and biggest illusion. Even if it existed, we’d foul it up. However low the fruit hangs we’ll always cry for the one that’s out of reach…So make a good passage Mr Briggs. I’m ready to go home, and snuff the incense of praise and take the Chair and tenure. Amen!’
Peter André Lorillard made another kind of valediction. He caught fish in the lagoon. He made a fire on the beach and asked Thorkild to join him and Martha and Mark in a private meal together. They were a kind of family, he said, with an oddly touching simplicity, closer now, perhaps than they had ever been. Now that he and Mark had worked together, they respected each other. Mark was, in fact, a better navigator than he himself had ever been. They were a good team – he stumbled over the trite collegiate phrases – a good team with a good chance at the finals. They’d had a good coach too…He relaxed a little then and went on:
‘… When we get back, I’ll be required to make a full report to the Navy and of course the press will be shouting for the story. I want you to know, Thorkild, you’ll have nothing but good words from me. It’s little enough, God knows! It’s all I’ve got to offer. I’m something of a straw man, as you knew from the beginning – as Martha here has found to her cost.’
‘Stop it, Peter!’ Martha was embarrassed for him. ‘You write yourself down all the time! You’re not fair to either of us!’
‘Let me tell you what I see,’ said Thorkild. ‘A man who slaved his guts out on a hillside to feed a tribe; a sick man who’s about to embark on a rescue mission with his own life at risk. If there was a straw man, he was burned a long while ago.’
Lorillard was silent for a moment then he said gravely:
‘We’re all faced with the risk. So I can say this plainly: If anything happens to me, Martha will be left as she was before, with a child to bring up alone …’
‘If anything happens to you,’ Thorkild gave him a crooked sidelong grin, ‘Martha and the child won’t be alone. They’ll be here with the rest of us for a long time.’
‘How long, Chief?’ asked Mark Gilman.
‘Hard to say, Mark. When you go, we’ve lost three men and a woman. If we were stuck here, we’d still have to feed ourselves. It would take much longer to finish the big boat…I haven’t made too much of this with the others; but in my own mind, I’ve had to face it.’
‘I simply refuse to think about it,’ said Martha firmly. ‘We’ll be home in a few weeks. I’ll have my baby in hospital. Mark will be back at school. Peter will get his divorce, and ask for a posting to Honolulu. It’s all settled and it’s going to happen!’
‘You shouldn’t talk like that, Mother.’ Mark Gilman frowned unhappily. ‘You can’t make things happen. You just float with them. That’s what the Chief says: don’t fight the wind, use it. The voice says it too: open yourself and let me be heard…You want to arrange everything and everybody. That’s what makes you unhappy …!’
‘How you do go on! I keep telling you, I’m not unhappy.’
‘But you do push things,’ said Lorillard mildly. ‘You push yourself and other people.’
‘Maybe Gunnar here can cure me when you’ve gone.’
‘Gunnar here has made a big decision, Mrs. Lorillard, and everyone’s on notice about it. Henceforth, now and as long as we’re on the island, it’s work, eat, sleep, drink and be as merry as we can – but there’ll be no arguments.’
‘Come the revolution,’ said Martha tartly. ‘You’ll all eat strawberries – and God help you if you don’t like them!’
‘Not future tense, Mrs. Lorillard. Present. The revolution’s here. It’s happened.’
‘I’m gla
d I’m leaving,’ said Lorillard with a laugh.
‘That’s the way a chief should be.’ Mark Gilman proclaimed it like an oracle. ‘That’s what the voice said: a low man makes a low people; only a high one is worthy of the mana!’
Before Thorkild went to bed that night he asked Sally to walk down to the beach with him. She was reluctant at first but he persuaded her with the plea that it would spare them both a last public farewell in the presence of the tribe. They sat together on the sand, tossing coral pebbles, as if ridding themselves of the last scraps and shards of their past. Sally asked:
‘When we get back…do you want me to deliver any messages?’
‘A few. Call in and see Molly Kaapu’s daughter. Let her know her mother’s safe.’
‘She’s already asked me to do that.’
‘Magnusson’s lawyers and insurers will want evidence of the loss of the Frigate Bird. The log should be handed to them. I imagine you’ll see Magnusson’s widow. Tell her I’ll call on her when I get back…Then there are the relatives of the dead ones …’
‘Gunnar! This is Sally, remember? I’m a very efficient lady. Between me and Lorillard we’ll handle the formalities. I was talking about personal things.’
‘Oh! Well, I would love you to see old Flanagan. Spend a little time with him. He’ll want to know everything. You’ll like him…Then call James Neal Anderson. Tell him I’m coming back to clear my scholarly name, claim tenure and the Chair and generally disrupt the campus!…That’s all the folk that matter I guess. The rest can wait until I get back.’
‘Time was when you wanted to stay here the rest of your life.’
‘Time was …’
‘What will you do when I’m gone…for a woman I mean?’
‘I haven’t thought of it.’
‘I don’t believe it – not Gunnar Thorkild!’
‘I don’t believe it myself, but it happens to be true. I went over the moon for you, Sally. I haven’t landed yet. If you need me, I’ll come anywhere, any time. If you don’t, no harm…In any case, we’ll have to have a big reunion dinner when we all get back. Oh, one more thing. Our marriage is entered in the log. Check your lawyer for legal complications. I’ll co-operate in whatever steps are necessary to leave you free.’
‘And yourself too.’
‘You’re in my blood. I’ll never be free of you. I never wanted to be anyway.’
‘You’re a fool, my love.’
‘I know.’
‘But I wish you all the best.’
‘And I you. Kiss me goodbye?’
They kissed and there was sweetness in it and tenderness; but all the passion was gone, blown away on the night-wind. As they walked back, hand in hand, along the beach, they saw Mark Gilman sitting on the canoe. They called to him but he did not hear. They went over to him. His eyes were closed, he was swaying from side to side, chanting as if to a drum beat, in the old Marquesan tongue.
‘The sea is empty;
The sun shines;
But there is no one to see it.
The fish leap;
But there is no one to catch them.
At night the stars look down
On an empty ocean.’
‘What is he singing?’ Sally asked in a whisper.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never heard it before.’
He was lying; because he dared not tell her it was one of the oldest chants known in the islands: a mourning for sailors who would never come to landfall.
Their departure was as brusque as he could make it. He wanted the voyagers calm for their outgoing. Those who were left he must hold steady and optimistic during the waiting period. So, he made a great show of efficiency and of confidence. Check the stores. Check the rigging. Take a last run through the sailing directions. Make the farewells brief: no speeches but a swift and hopeful envoi. The tribe watched, cheering and waving, as they paddled across the lagoon, through the churn of the channel water, and out past the point where the wind would catch them and send them scurrying northwards. They lingered until the tiny craft was no more than a black speck on the horizon. Then they fell silent and turned back to camp, the women weeping a little, the men talking in low, strained voices. At the fire-pit Thorkild was waiting for them. He was no longer brusque, but grave and concerned for their obvious misery.
‘… They’re gone and their chances are good. They’re heading for the Austral and Tubai archipelagoes, which are the nearest land to us and where there is an agent from the French Administration in Papeete…The weather looks good. Even if they do only a hundred miles a day – and they could do much more – they’ll make the islands in a week. You must not entertain unfounded hopes or unnecessary fears. Remember that these islands are scattered and communications are not the best; so, we must allow ample time for them to make contact with a French agent, who must then make a report to the Administrator of Colonies in Papeete. Once that is done you may be sure that prompt measures will be taken to send a rescue party …’
Ellen Ching cut into his talk:
‘Chief, if it’s our morale you’re worried about, let me tell you we’ve weighed the risks as well as you have. We’ve also come to certain conclusions.’
‘Who is “we”, Ellen?’
‘All of us.’
‘Then,’ said Thorkild amiably, ‘I’d like to hear the conclusions.’
‘In the first place.’ Her exposition was dry and precise. ‘We all believe that it is necessary to set some term to our hopes.’
Thorkild gave her a long, puzzled look.
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘It’s very simple. At some point we will be forced to decide whether we are transients or permanent residents in this place. That decision will change radically our attitude to life on the island. It will also change certain of our personal relationships.’
Thorkild chewed on the thought for a moment and then nodded agreement.
‘I’ll be frank with you. It helps that you have faced the issue. I believe, I have always believed, that our hope of rescue is well founded. It is good, however, that you understand we may, one day, have to abandon it.’
‘We’ve gone further than that, Chief.’ Hernan Castillo took up the argument. ‘We think certain arrangements should be changed now. The community is much smaller. Everyone should come down and live here on the beach. The terrace is planted. There is no need for anyone to live there now. It’s a lonely place; and it has proved unhealthy.’
‘I agree,’ said Eva Kuhio. ‘Martha shouldn’t stay there anyway. Willy and I are well; so are Barbara and Simon; but the longer we stay, the bigger the danger of infection.’
‘We can send up forage and work parties.’ Simon Cohen set down the plain facts. ‘We can bring the pigs down here. Then we can push ahead to finish the beach houses. When those are done, we can concentrate all our energies on the big boat.’
‘Which brings us,’ said Ellen Ching, ‘to the question of our social arrangements. We women have certain views. We want to represent them to you and to the other men.’
‘Why now?’ asked Thorkild. ‘Why not leave it until we have reached the point of no return?’
‘Because some of us have already reached that point. Yoko and Martha are both going to have their babies within the next two months. At any time during those two months Barbara could fall pregnant and be left the same way, an unmarried woman with a fatherless child…That, I think you will all agree, is an unfair situation. Now, let’s look at what happens if we are not rescued…And while we are looking, let’s all be as honest as we can. We are seven women. Molly Kaapu is ageing. Martha would then be a widow with a child. Jenny would also be a widow. Yoko would have a child whose father she has rejected. There is Eva who is married and whose husband is with her. There is Barbara who has a temporary union with Simon. Finally there is myself, and I have never made any secret of the fact that I can be equally interested in man or woman. On the other side there are you six men. Willy Kuhio is married. Tioto
is like myself. The rest of you are free…Now – let’s face it, dear friends and darling people! – that’s a very unstable mixture. We have to be sure it doesn’t become destructive. Question: how do we do it?’
There was a long silence. The women sat blank-faced and unsmiling. The men looked at each other and exchanged embarrassed grins. Finally Thorkild said slowly:
‘I’ll make the first contribution. There’s no way I’ll play marriage-broker again.’
Willy Kuhio spoke, firmly and definitely:
‘No way I change. My Eva and I will stay together. That’s right, isn’t it Eva?’
‘Maybe,’ said Eva doubtfully. ‘Maybe it’s what we like and what we want. Maybe it can’t work that way any more.’
As Willy frowned and stammered, Thorkild interposed:
‘You said, Ellen, that the women have discussed this. Have you come to any decision?’
‘We have,’ said Ellen Ching. ‘Martha will give it to you.’
There was a long silence while they waited for her to speak. Finally, in an arid monotone, she informed them.
‘I have been asked to say this because I have dedicated a son and a husband to the venture on which our hope of safety depends. Jenny has an equal right because she too has sent out a husband. So her voice speaks with mine. Here is the simple fact. All hope for the future of this community depends on us women. If we refuse to breed, if we refuse to care for the two children who will soon be born, this community will die out. If, on the other hand, we are prepared to bear children, then we have a right to demand from our men-folk not simply protection and care, but love as well; because without love we become simply chattels; and that would be a despair – too much to carry for a lifetime. It would be a foolish thing to talk, now, of falling in love and all the quaint, pleasant things in story-books. That kind of love is beyond us. We know each other too well. We have no surprises left for each other…But we do have bonds; bonds that were forged by danger and by the deaths we have seen and by the efforts we have made together just to survive. We women are agreed that we cannot chop and change between this man and another all our lives. However we arrange it, we need permanence, protection and the kind of affection we have talked about. We are not objects. We are persons. You men are not simply seed-bearers, you too are persons who need a private and personal life…So, this is what we have decided. We will cancel out all the unions that now exist. We will withdraw ourselves into our women’s community here on the beach. You men, too, will withdraw from us and live in your own group. Molly Kaapu will be the head of our family. From that moment we shall be free to give ourselves or withhold ourselves from any man who wishes to join himself with us. We shall be free to set the terms of any union which is offered to us. You men will be free to offer or withhold yourselves and, similarly, to accept or reject our terms. We believe that, out of this, there should come permanent pairing and the kind of stability we agree we all need…That’s our side of it. Now we would like to hear yours. If you want to think about it and talk about it, take your time. We’re in no hurry. Our first need is to protect those who are still vulnerable.’
