Silent One

by Cowley, Joy

  Helplessly, he lay close to the earth and watched as they hacked his raft to pieces.

  Chapter 7

  A Trap Baited With Honey

  Luisa wondered if the boy knew of the plan to send him to the special school. Had he guessed he was going away? If not, then what was wrong with the Silent One?

  Yesterday he’d come back to the village while the sun was still high above the earth; and as soon as Luisa saw him, she knew he was upset. The smile of greeting was missing, his face was troubled. All afternoon he lay on his mat as though he’d been taken with some strange sickness. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, hardly moved. He stared at the walls of the bure with shut-in eyes and seemed unaware of the old woman who tried to offer him food and comfort.

  Luisa watched him anxiously through the night, and when morning came, she was relieved to see him leave his bed and walk outside on strong legs. At least he didn’t have a fever.

  But she was surprised to discover that he hadn’t gone to the reef. Instead, he wandered through the village as though he didn’t know where he was going. Eventually he rested under a tree, arms folded on his knees, head down, sitting so still that he could have been part of the tree trunk.

  Luisa was bewildered. How could he possibly know about the school? Or was something else upsetting him? She picked up her cooking pot and limped off to the stream for water, deliberately passing under the tree where he sat. She paused for a moment, but he didn’t see her. His face was hidden between his arms.

  Luisa shrugged. Well, anyway, she hadn’t made the decision. It wasn’t her idea to send him to a strange place where he would grow thin from foreign food. That was the will of Taruga Vueti, and she could do nothing but bow her head to the words of the chief.

  But what would her life be like without the Silent One? Ah. She shook her head as the tears came back to her eyes, and she tried to remember what Aesake had said. When Jonasi comes back from the school, he’ll be able to talk like anyone else in the village. Talk? The Silent One? Luisa didn’t believe it. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and then loudly scolded some children who were playing in her path.

  The stream beside the village was seldom deep, but now, after weeks of heat, the water had shrunk from the banks, leaving a small trickle between two wide strips of mud. Luisa had to dig a hole with a stick and wait for it to fill before she could dip her pot.

  ‘Three more days and it’ll be dry,’ said a voice behind her.

  She looked up and saw Bulai’s wife, also collecting water. ‘Yes, it’s bad,’ Luisa agreed. ‘I’ve never seen it like this before.’

  ‘You know why, don’t you?’ said the woman.

  Luisa stood up at the accusing tone, and put her hands on her hips. ‘Why?’

  ‘The reason is living under your own roof,’ snorted Bulai’s wife.

  Luisa spat in the mud. ‘You’re a fool!’ she said. ‘Your words make the noise of a broken drum.’ She picked up her pot and began to walk away.

  ‘We’ll see who’s the fool!’ yelled Bulai’s wife. ‘You stupid old bag of bones, you’re bringing disaster to us all. Why are you so stubborn? Everyone else knows the rain won’t come until the boy and his white turtle have gone.’

  ‘What?’ Luisa turned back.

  ‘They’ve put a curse on us!’

  ‘What did you say about a turtle?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know,’ said Bulai’s wife. ‘The turtle that follows him around the reef. It’s white, I tell you, as white as a full moon and many times as big. It shines through the water with a light that makes men blind. It brings evil to all who go near it. The Silent One is its master. He called it out of the depths of the ocean, and it does exactly what he says.’

  Luisa stared at the woman. ‘You’re more than a fool. The sun has withered your brain.’

  ‘You don’t believe me, eh?’ said Bulai’s wife.

  ‘What? Believe a story like that? A white turtle! Huh! You must think I’m as stupid as you are!’

  Bulai’s wife bared her teeth in a smile. ‘It’s not my story,’ she said. ‘Yesterday ten men saw him with the turtle. Ten of them. They were out fishing, and there it was, as close as I am to you. But as they came up to it, it disappeared. One moment it was there, next moment – gone! Nowhere. Like an evil spirit.’

  Luisa hesitated. Bulai’s wife sounded too sure, too pleased with herself. A white turtle? White? No, no, that was nothing but crazy talk.

  ‘And Jonasi, did he also vanish like a spirit?’ Luisa sneered.

  ‘When the men came, he ran away.’

  ‘Oh he did, did he?’ Luisa gave a hard laugh. ‘Jonasi runs away, and the turtle disappears under the noses of ten big men.’

  ‘That’s what happened. My husband was there. He saw it all.’

  Luisa nodded slowly. ‘He saw it, a turtle that shines with a blinding light. Well, answer me this, you idle one. These ten men – your husband and his friends – are they now blind?’

  Bulai’s wife was silent.

  ‘I thought not,’ said Luisa, and with a final laugh, she walked away.

  ‘Go on then,’ screamed Bulai’s wife. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask Samu.’

  Luisa kept on walking.

  ‘Ask your own son, you old bag of bones! He’s seen it! He knows!’

  The words stayed inside Luisa’s head all the way back to the village. Samu? Ask Samu? Surely her own flesh and blood hadn’t joined the people in their crazy stories about his foster brother.

  But now other thoughts bit Luisa like small insects. Why had Jonasi spent such long days on the reef? What made him come home early yesterday with a deep trouble inside him?

  As quickly as she could, Luisa sought out Samu and took him into the bure. ‘What’s all this about Jonasi and a white turtle?’ she demanded.

  Samu looked at the floor and shook his head.

  Luisa grabbed him by the shoulder, her fingers hooked like the talons of a bird. ‘Those fools – they’re saying Jonasi sent away the rain. Did you know that? They’ve made up a story about a white turtle.’

  ‘Let me go,’ said Samu, squirming.

  Luisa would not release him. ‘Did you tell the wife of Bulai you’d seen this turtle?’

  ‘No! No, I never. I swear it!’

  ‘Then why did she tell me to ask Samu?’

  There was a pause and he said in a whisper, ‘It was Etika I told.’

  ‘Why?’ Luisa stared at him. ‘What came into your head to tell such a story?’

  ‘Because it’s true. Aesake and I saw it one day, a white turtle, and – and Jonasi had tamed it.’

  Luisa let him go. ‘White?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Truly white?’

  ‘Aesake and I were there. We both saw – ’ Samu’s voice shook like a small flame, then went out. If only he’d kept his promise to Aesake, none of this would have happened. That Etika! He’d never trust him again.

  Luisa had recovered her anger. ‘So! Everyone else knew, did they? Why is it that I’m the last to hear of this thing? Well? Answer me!’

  ‘It’s – it’s just an ordinary turtle,’ said Samu. ‘What they call an albino or something. Not a spirit, nothing like that.’

  ‘It shines with a great light?’ said Luisa.

  ‘No, no, there’s no light, no strange power. Only an ordinary turtle – like other turtles, except it’s white. Go and ask Aesake. He knows all about it.’

  ‘Ask this one, ask that one,’ said Luisa. ‘Why should I have to ask? My son has told all the people in the village and yet his own mother doesn’t – ’

  ‘I told no one but Etika!’ insisted Samu.

  ‘Why did you tell him at all, eh? Why tell him and not me?’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ Samu said.

  ‘And you think I’m not worried now. You think it makes me happy not to know what they’re all saying?’ She looked hard at Samu. ‘It’s a real turtle like other turtles?’

  ‘Y
es.’

  ‘And on the body of our Saviour you’ll tell me you saw it with your own two eyes – ’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did. Aesake even touched it. He’ll tell you – ’

  ‘All right.’ She ruffled his hair and for a brief moment drew his head against her shoulder, then pushed him away. ‘Leave me to myself a while,’ she said.

  Samu ran out quickly. Luisa went over to her sleeping mat, then stood still, caught suddenly by the memory of something long forgotten, best forgotten. Something half remembered from the day the Silent One had first come to the village – not the silly stories of Bulai. It was the talk of the men on the copra boat, chattering as the copra was loaded. On a perfectly calm day they had seen a canoe in the water. Something, they said, almost seemed to be pushing it towards the boat, aiming it so true and direct, as though a strong man were guiding it. Some thought they saw a flash of pearl white just beyond the bow.

  But when they looked again the white light was gone and in the canoe they saw only a baby, alone and whimpering.

  Luisa shivered. She knelt, head bowed. These days her knees were bad, and she didn’t kneel unless the prayer was extremely important. Surely, she thought, the groaning of her bones would add extra weight to her plea.

  She prayed for so long that all feeling left her legs, and she had to rub them back to life before she could stand again. But she was satisfied. She’d told the God of the church everything, and now the matter was out of her hands. Today, tomorrow, soon, the rain would come, the turtle would go. Life would settle again, and the mutterings in the village would cease.

  She was still trying to make the blood move in her legs when a shadow fell across her doorway. Instantly she forgot both her prayer and her pain. The man Tasiri was watching her.

  He leaned against the side of her doorway, smiling, and said in a loud voice, ‘Good health to you, Luisa my old friend.’

  She frowned. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I came to see how you were,’ Tasiri said. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘I’m well enough. Be gone with you.’

  ‘Ah, Luisa.’ Tasiri shook his head. ‘These are sad times. Strange things happen in this village of ours. The sun shines hot, and people talk as though they have a fever, words that bring unhappiness to your door.’

  ‘You come to tell me that!’ snorted Luisa. She peered closer and saw two men standing behind Tasiri, farther back, waiting. Her suspicions became stronger, her face hardened.

  Tasiri went on smiling. ‘I come as an elder of the tribe and your friend, Luisa. I’m not one of those who speak ill of you – or your son Jonasi. He’s a fine boy. He’s a good boy just like Samu. Ah, Luisa, what a great mother you have been!’

  Luisa scowled, but Tasiri’s face was glowing with good humour and kindness. He rubbed his hands together. ‘I remember the day Jonasi came here. What a tiny one he was! Small, like a young seabird crying for food. Was that so long ago? To look at him now, so tall and strong, one would never think that you’d snatched him from the arms of death.’

  ‘What do you want?’ snapped Luisa.

  ‘Nothing.’ Tasiri spread his hands. ‘I’ve said what I came to say. I wanted you to know that you have friends in the village.’ He tapped his head with his finger. ‘Not everyone’s been touched by the sun.’

  Luisa sensed that something was wrong. Tasiri was not given to sentimental speeches, and it had been many months since he had even spoken to Luisa at all. Was this a trick, or was he really concerned for her? She nodded stiffly. ‘I am grateful,’ she said.

  Tasiri was about to walk away. He stopped and turned as though remembering something. ‘Is the boy lonely? Would he like to come fishing with us?’

  ‘No! Ah – I don’t know.’

  ‘Bring him out,’ said Tasiri, and his eyes were soft with kindness. ‘I think I can make him understand.’

  Luisa shook her head. ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The last time I saw him, he was under the big breadfruit tree.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ Tasiri smiled. ‘Some other day, perhaps.’ And with a friendly nod he walked away, followed by the two men who’d been standing nearby.

  Luisa went back into the bure and stood still, hands to her mouth, thinking. Tasiri could be trusted as much as a snake. He was a man who’d sell his mother for a basketful of fish, his wife for even less. What was he trying to do? Or did it happen that even snakes repented of their ways?

  She didn’t have to wonder long. Suddenly there was a commotion outside, shouts and cries, and before she could reach the door, Samu burst in. His eyes showed fear, he was panting.

  ‘Jonasi! They’ve got him! They’re taking him away!’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Tasiri’s got him. They’ve tied his hands together!’

  Then Luisa saw for herself. The three men were hurrying to the beach, and they were dragging Jonasi, like a dead pig, behind them.

  ‘They came and took him!’ gasped Samu. ‘He fought, but they tied a line around his wrists.’

  Luisa stumbled out of the bure, screaming after the men.

  ‘They’re after the turtle,’ Samu said. ‘They’re going to take Jonasi out in a canoe. They’ll use him as bait. He’ll bring the turtle to their spears.’

  Luisa was weak with fury. She wanted to run after them, kill them, bite and scratch them to pieces. But she could barely walk. She turned back to Samu. ‘The chief! Get Taruga Vueti and tell him! At once, do you hear? Run, run!’

  At another time Samu would have been paralysed at the thought of approaching the great Ratu, but now he was so frightened about Jonasi that he ran like the wind.

  Luisa limped after the men. ‘Cowards!’ she yelled as they dragged Jonasi through the sand. ‘Demons! Monsters! May lightning strike you to the ground! May your bellies swell and burst! May all your children be born with heads of frogs! I curse you! Vile worms of men, I curse you for ever, do you hear me?’

  But they were beyond hearing and almost out of sight. Luisa hobbled on, shrieking and sobbing. By now, almost everyone in the village was watching. Those who hadn’t been roused by the sound of the struggle had come outside at Luisa’s screaming. Groups of people stood silent and still, waiting for something to happen. No one offered to help the old woman. No one moved until Aesake came running.

  With swift strides, the chief’s son came out of the village, past the people, past Luisa, and towards the beach. ‘Stop!’ Aesake shouted. ‘Tasiri, stop! My father orders it! He is coming!’

  Luisa looked back. Yes, the chief was indeed coming. He walked fast, his face was stern.

  The people drew back into the shadows and bowed their heads. It was a long time since they’d seen the chief walk like this, with war in his step and a spear in his hand, but their curiosity was greater than their awe, and as soon as he had passed they followed him to the beach.

  Two men had a canoe half in the water, half on the sand. A third man had dragged Jonasi to it. Now all three were standing with the waves swelling around their knees, waiting for the words of Taruga Vueti.

  Tasiri’s smile had tightened to a thin line of fury. He deliberately twisted the rope around Jonasi’s wrists so that it cut into the flesh. The boy shuddered with pain, but Tasiri took good care to stand behind him where the chief could not see what was happening.

  The men holding the canoe kept their eyes down and said nothing.

  Chief Vueti walked to the water’s edge and set his spear in the sand. ‘Let him go, Tasiri!’ he called.

  Tasiri pretended to bow, at the same time twisting the rope again. Then, as Jonasi stumbled, he released him.

  The boy came out of the water and stood, head down, in front of the chief. He swayed as though he might fall and his breathing was uneven and heavy.

  Taruga Vueti cut the tie that held Jonasi’s hands behind his back, and when he saw the red marks on the boy’s wrists, his eyes grew fierce. ‘Tasiri!’ he said. ‘What is your reason for this?’

 
; Bent almost double, Tasiri waded to the beach and dropped to his knees at the chief’s feet, pressing his forehead to the sand. ‘Great Ratu,’ he whined. ‘It was to have been in your honour.’

  ‘Why did you tie this boy and take him by force?’

  ‘I wanted to present the great Ratu with a gift that was worthy of the name Taruga Vueti, so people from many islands would hear and say – ’

  ‘I lose patience, Tasiri!’

  ‘The white turtle, O Ratu. It has a shell that glows like moonlight on water, a shell most beautiful to behold. But only the Silent One knows where it hides on the reef. Without him we cannot find it. And if the turtle is not found, then your servant Tasiri cannot bring you this great honour – ’

  ‘You took him against his will!’ said the chief, and his voice was so strong that the people behind him drew back and made a noise like a small, moaning wind.

  Luisa came forward. ‘They hurt him, Ratu,’ she cried. ‘They dragged him like a string of dead fish. See? Look at the blood on his arms.’

  ‘Silence woman!’ said Vueti. He turned back to the men and said, ‘Well, Tasiri?’

  ‘But who knows what his will is?’ whined Tasiri. ‘He doesn’t speak, doesn’t hear. How could I make him understand that this was for our great chief? There was no other way, I swear it. He wouldn’t come, great Ratu. He fought us.’

  ‘Listen to this!’ Vueti turned so that he could also see the people behind him. He held up his hand. ‘If any man harms this boy or the white turtle, he will be brought before the council and punished. No one will harm either of them – ’ He stopped, his hand came to his mouth and he began to cough. ‘No one – ’ But the strong voice had gone and he was struggling for breath. ‘Stay – stay away – ’

  Another murmur went through the crowd.

  ‘Leave the boy alone. The boy and the turtle.’ Taruga Vueti looked tired. ‘That is all,’ he said, turning away. ‘I have spoken.’

  The crowd stood back, bowed and silent, until the chief had gone. Then a babble of noise broke out.

  Tasiri was up off his knees and running like a crab along the sand. He disappeared beneath the coconut palms. The other two men dragged the canoe back up the beach, sullen and silent.