by Jack Dey
READER COMMENTS AND REVIEWS FOR JACK DEY'S BOOKS
"Mahina is a fantastic tale involving multiple storylines from both historical times and the present… beautiful and complex, like the threads of fine tapestry… a memorable and well told story, full of adventure and romance… Someone should turn this book into a motion picture. You should read the book." Kathy Olson
"Paradise Warrior is an amazing book. It makes you laugh, cry and reflect. It is a book that when you finish you wonder about life around you. God’s plan in our life... amazing gift…" Fernando M.
"Mahina... A great first novel by Jack Dey. Can’t wait for the next!" Gary James
"MAHiNA... engaging and informative. It is hard to put down a novel when the characters are intriguing and the storyline incorporates a variety of threads. Aunty Rosa was the one character that I was especially drawn to; her wisdom and sensitivity were authentic and endearing... And the ending was superbly done; tying in each of the real life issues in a clever and perceptive way." Susan
“…I cry & I laugh & I don’t want to put my book down… I loved reading “Mahina” on my iPad…. BUT…. I absolutely LOVE having it in BOOK FORM now…. to have & to hold…. forever mine!" Gwennie Simpson
“...Mahina... Finished!!!!!! Loved it!!!!!” Marie
"Mahina is a brilliant novel that I’ve read with great pleasure The author is very smart to describe the human heart in his various characters. I enjoyed also how sincere faith and love for God are lived by some of them. My favorite, Aunty Rosa is especially appealing; it really makes you want to meet her!" Dominique
"...Mahina. The story draws you in chapter by chapter. Thoroughly enjoyed it..." Craig
"...amazing, delightful, absolutely intriguing, WONDERFUL book... PARADISE WARRIOR!!! I can't put it down..." Gwennie Simpson
“I've finished THAT BOOK and will now have to do something constructive!!!... if book number three is as riveting as the other two, I will need pulse-reducing medication. I can't believe the depth of all that he was able to bring in to that story!!! (I'm thinking that I will have to stick to “Little Women” and “Heidi” in future.)” Maureen
"Paradise Warrior... You certainly know how to keep the reader hanging for more! Great work! I’m going to read it again!" Corinne
"...Paradise Warrior! The author is able once again to describe how God works and change the lives of those who put their trust in Him... thrilling fiction. It’s quite impossible to close the book before the end. And when I finished... I read it a second time to enjoy even more all its subtleties, this for the first time in my life..." Dominique
"...Aunt Tabbie’s Wings... once you start, you won’t want to put it down." Elspeth
"...Aunt Tabbie's Wings and loved it so much... I could not put it down..." Trudy R.
“I was up reading half the night last night…” Kathy
*~*~*~*
MAHiNA
by
JACK DEY
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PUBLISHED BY:
COPYRIGHT 2013-2014 C.D. & A.R. Day
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means–electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherwise–except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the owner of the copyright.
Original Cover Design: C.D. & A.R. Day
This book is also available in print.
ISBN: 9780992404000
(paperback)
For information please contact:
URL: https://www.jackdey.com
Email: [email protected]
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Dedicated to: Papa
For Your Honour and Your Glory
*~*~*~*
NOTE FROM JACK
This novel is a work of fiction. Whereas the historical facts have been a major influence in the writing of Mahina, any resemblance to incidences or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Poetic licence has been used in this fiction.
I hope you will enjoy reading it, as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Jack Dey
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 15
Chapter 20
Chapter 25
Chapter 30
Chapter 35
Chapter 40
Chapter 45
Chapter 50
Chapter 55
Chapter 60
Author's Note
About the Author
Connect with Jack
Discover Other Books by Jack Dey
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Exclusive Preview – The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse
Exclusive Preview – The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq by Jack Dey
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MAHiNA
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CHAPTER 1 - FEBRUARY 1855
The sweat trickled down his back. His cloudless, pale complexion still burnt easily, even after nearly twenty years in this abominable, stifling Australian sun. His short breeches, long white stockings and cascading ruffled shirt still identified him as a gentleman, seemingly out of place in the harsh tropical environment, although he had not been in proper English society for nearly two decades.
His mind drifted back the twenty years or so since his journey began, recalling his father’s tone and scolding tirade when he had divulged his plan to become a minister and establish a church among the lawless colonies of the new frontier lands of Australia. Today was one of the many days of reflection and after countless long years of toil and personal agony, he wondered whether his parent had been right and God was punishing him for his decision to come to Australia, disobeying his patriarchal wishes. His father, consumed with rage, carried through with his threat to disinherit him once his desire became reality. All the family fortune was settled upon his amiable younger brother, leaving him without social stature and penniless.
Bereft of his former life, all that remained was a fare aboard a colony ship bound for Australia; a wardrobe of clothing; and a meagre grant from the English government enticing would-be settlers to try their fortunes and populate the new land down under. The only hitch; it was a one way ticket without any possibility of returning to England or society, even if he wanted to.
His passage aboard the schooner had been a shock to his former pampered lifestyle. A gentleman required separate lodgings from the rank and file, but now because of his new situation, he was bundled together with the common people in squalor, sharing their distress and pain in a horrific three month voyage.
The schooner had tossed and dipped on its way to the new colony, encountering endless storms and violent seas. Many times, the creaking, wooden ship was hit by formidable waves, mixing fear, sea water and panic with the smell of acrid emotion, carelessly deposited into the voluminous bilge of the nightmarish ship. He had filled his despairing hours caring for the sick and reassuring frightened passengers. At one stage, he was called upon to give a eulogy on behalf of a child who had succumbed to the harsh conditions and dehydrated to the point of death, leaving numb and destroyed parents grieving in the appalling conditions.
A necessary and unscheduled stopover was announced by the captain, causing much anguish to the traumatised passengers. The ship would make a detour to Thursday Island, a small native community off the north eastern coast of Australia. Sydney town, their intended destinati
on in the main New South Wales colony, was still many weeks away and the thought of any delay extending their journey was not met with enthusiasm.
As the schooner sailed into the calm, protected harbour of Thursday Island, the gentle green waters and pristine beaches of the small paradise instilled hope into their desperate minds. The passengers lined the deck railings, watching the unbelievable scene unfolding in front of them and in return, the shores were lined by native people staring and pointing at the unusual sight. Finally, the meagre sail was lowered and the old, wooden vessel drifted to a stop at a suitable anchorage some distance from the shore. A large splash signalled the positioning of the anchor overboard, while the long boats were lowered and many eager men, women and children made their way to the luxury of unmoving land, guarded by the armed ship’s crew.
The preacher first set foot on T.I. - as the scant explorers’ maps referred to it - almost twenty years ago to the day. He remembered the first time he saw the colourful native people and if he knew then that their rites and rituals included human sacrifice and cannibalism, his impetuous decision to stay and work among them may not have been made with such reckless abandonment. He was greeted by the shy and reserved native people, and against the crew's instruction not to communicate, fearing an uprising, he reached out and found them to be as curious of him, as he was of them. In those first moments of meeting, he felt the pull of God on his heart and he fell in love with the native people.
A wiser person would have fought against the thought of making Thursday Island one’s permanent home. He recalled his thoughts in that moment, but there was no time to reconsider his actions as he had stared, somewhat intimidated, from the white beach sands of the tiny island. The three masted schooner had slipped effortlessly into the open turquoise sea, the sails in full bloom and driven by monsoon northerlies, leaving him behind. As the vessel grew smaller and smaller, then finally disappeared from sight, he struggled with the wisdom of his choice, but he had made his decision. His survival would be reliant upon his faith in God and his desire to succeed in his new environment.
Gradually his thoughts cleared and his attention was drawn back to the present day and to the current tasks before him. He smiled and remembered with fondness that the past twenty years had been rich in ministry, the native people eager to hear about this strange white God... Jesus. The influence of Jesus had turned many of the gentle native people away from their tribal practises and the light came to the Torres Strait. He had been true to his heart and to the God who had called him. As the knowledge of Jesus Christ spread, a deep, tangible peace settled over T.I.. He had spent many hours personally instructing the new native converts, learning their language and teaching their hungry hearts.
Warrammarra was not only a convert, but a close friend who had shared much of his experiences and trials among the people. Being a local born native man, Warrammarra had kept him safe from many of the cultural pitfalls and had devoured the instruction given him voraciously, always talking of his Jesus to whomever would listen.
The preacher pondered the cultural taboos associated with his feelings for a beautiful native woman, which had grown far beyond admiration and he was trying to settle the thoughts of marriage in his heart. Waiting for God’s direction on his musings, his answer came in the form of a quarrel among the tribal elders, forbidding the union. The woman’s tearful appeals were soon silenced and she was quickly married to an elder.
His only regret.
Disappointed, but wanting to honour their decision, a new thought entered his head. The New Guinean neighbours to the north of Thursday Island were equally destitute of Jesus Christ and according to Warrammarra, they were vehemently involved in cannibalism and spirit worship. The church, now well established in T.I., would survive without his leadership and his desire soon turned towards reaching the New Guineans and trying to forget the beautiful native woman who had stolen his heart. The distance between T.I. and mainland New Guinea, to the north, was only a matter of 170 nautical miles. The sea separating the two cultures was supposedly a calm crossing and a small sailboat could easily make the journey in a matter of three or four days. A desperate need to escape Thursday Island overtook the preacher and he procured the use of a tiny craft to make the sea crossing on his own.
When Warrammarra heard of the preacher's plan, he tried to convince him his journey was a foolish plight and not to go. When he could not be deterred, Warrammarra decided to accompany his friend and assure the preacher’s survival, returning him to T.I. to resume his rightful place as leader of the church. Warrammarra’s open objections to the preacher’s plan were clear and they disturbed the preacher. He advised their meeting with the New Guinean natives would likely be all out acceptance when they encountered them, or reviled as intrusion into their timeless world. The preacher breathed out a nervous breath. Warrammarra wasn’t prone to embellishment and only time would tell.
It was in God’s hands as to whether they survived or not.
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The humidity was oppressive, stealing their remaining strength from their dehydrated bodies. The tiny, wooden sail boat, stabilised by makeshift wooden outriggers, had only just survived the previous night in the face of an enormous monsoon storm. They had sailed from T.I. three days ago and the preacher was getting worried. Land should have been sighted by now and it was hard to determine whether the storm had driven them off course.
In the distance, a formidable and dark cloud barrier drew the small sailboat like an enormous spider engulfing its prey. A blinding flash pained their eyes and then a deep resounding rumble echoed menacingly directly overhead, until they were once again centred in a violent maelstrom, fighting for their lives. The outriggers dipped and pierced each new treacherous wave and drenched the two men struggling to keep their boat afloat. The wind struck the vessel with such tenacity, the gusts tipped the mast till it was almost touching the sea. Rain, quickly filling the sinking craft and blown sideways by the gusting wind, struck at their skin and stung their eyes. Warrammarra was frantically bailing water from the bilge and desperately trying to hold onto the bucking rudder, at the same time as another monster broadsided them, slamming into the struggling craft. The preacher felt bilious but his praying lips did not cease.
Memories of the vexing voyage from England, twenty years ago, were as real today as they had been back then. The months of misery and misadventure aboard the floundering schooner returned, reliving the smells and sounds of desperate people praying to survive. The only difference this time, the waterline was so much closer and the waves more of a menace.
In the face of the fierce disturbance, he felt the calming hand of God upon his heart and the fear subsided, much like when Jesus calmed the waves threatening to swamp the apostles as they journeyed across a lake, many centuries earlier. The preacher was much in appreciation of Warrammarra’s company and seamanship during this latest ordeal. He would not have survived out here on his own if it wasn’t for Gods protection keeping them safe and Warrammarra’s efforts.
As quickly as the storm had drawn them in, it was now lifting its deathly curtain and angrily searching for another place to vent its displeasure. The dense cloud gave way to bright sunshine and blue skies, while the waves still crashed around them, stirred up by the fading storm. The sun returned with a vengeance, boring down onto them with furious intent as the protection of the cloud diminished. The wind dropped to a whisper and the humidity joined forces with the sun, the oppressive heat draining the dwindling life from their tired bodies. A hapless and defeated scan of the horizon, not expecting to see anything but water, was suddenly met with hopeful excitement. The preacher animatedly gestured to Warrammarra, pointing with his finger, but he had already seen the focus of his joy.
Distant mountains, heavily endowed with rainforest, dipped down into the sea, creating an impenetrable, vegetative barrier to the land beyond. White sandy beaches lay for miles in each direction, crashing with green Trojans angrily stirred up by the passi
ng tempest and spending their fury on the white sand of the tropical shore. The tips of the mountains were covered by a dark, foreboding mist and the humidity seemed to intensify as they came closer to the shore. Lazy floating cloud momentarily shaded the sun and gave an immediate, but temporary reprieve and a significant drop in temperature, then swiftly moved on, allowing the scorching sun access to their wilting features again and spiking the temperature.
He wasn’t sure whether his mind was delirious and playing tricks on him, but a sudden pang of nostalgia gripped him and his mind hankered after another time. The memory of his native England had faded over many years. White Christmases; fur lined riders; a galloping curricle; reddened cheeks from the icy wind; being wrapped up in warm clothes and playing in the snow. Oh, to feel cold again! In his current home, it was either hot... or hotter! A sting of regret and homesickness embedded itself in his mind and in these present circumstances the memories were not helpful. He had to work hard to shake it clear from his thoughts. That was another person, another lifetime.
Finally, they dropped the sail and drifted in on the incoming tide. Beaching the wooden boat proved to be more hazardous than expected and the crashing waves almost tipped the boat over. Eventually, a large wave took the initiative and pushed the boat up high and dry onto the sandy shore.
Their limbs were stiff and unwilling to move at first, making any attempt at disembarking a painful trial. Falling heavily onto the hot sand, it felt strange not to be constantly moving and it took a long time to adjust to the land again, after long periods of cramped inactivity aboard the tiny craft .
