In Search of Spice (41 page)

Hinatea went down to the cave quickly and found Pat was jammed against the entrance. She leant down and took his left arm, while Silmatea came down and grabbed his right.

Pat had not lost his nerve. He was in a higher plane of thought, watching what was happening in an almost out of body situation, with time slowed down and creeping by. He felt the impact as he crashed into the rough coral, and felt his flesh tear as the octopus tried to pull him through the hole. His body strained, but was never going to fit as the octopus rapidly realised. Instead it came forward, and he saw the huge eyes, each bigger than his fist, coming closer and looking straight into his face from inches away. His imagination lent meaning, telling him that the octopus was salivating at the prospect of eating him. His breath was tight in his chest, but he still had awareness as he felt an exploratory tentacle run over his face, probing his ears and nose. He tried to bite it but it whipped away.

His legs were free now as the monster changed its grip, no longer pulling, just holding. Pat inched his legs up his front, tilting his body slightly so he could get his feet between himself and the octopus. Its inspection finished, he saw the front tentacles spread apart and the eyes tilted backwards as a monstrous beak appeared from underneath. It was huge, easily capable of engulfing his whole head and it looked hard and razor sharp. As it reached with its beak to disembowel him, he felt the girls grip his arms and at the same time he placed his legs on either side of the hole and pushed back sharply, with the girls pulling.

This unexpected push caught the octopus off-guard, and he came flying away from the hole as the suckers lost their grip. The octopus came boiling out in pursuit, unwilling to give up such a tasty morsel. Two long arms stretched after Pat, while other arms moved along the ground, pulling the body after them, leaving two anchored to the hole.

Pat kicked frantically for the surface, beginning to ache with the need for air, while Silmatea supported him, Hinatea letting go. The octopus grabbed his left foot and stopped him in mid water. He was desperately trying to kick it off and feeling the talons sinking into his calf, blood blossoming through the water. He could feel Silmatea pulling him and saw Hinatea arrow through the water, now behind the octopus.

More tentacles gripped his leg, moving higher up his body. They tensed and suddenly the octopus, horrifically, shot through the water and attached itself to his stomach. He looked into its eyes, right in front of his face, hearing Silmatea at his shoulder scream under water as she kicked at it, and the great beak was straining at his stomach. He could feel it rubbing against him as it snapped, not quite at the right angle yet. He put his hands either side of the beak, careful not to get one actually inside it, and tried to push it away, but was unable to get effective leverage. It flexed backwards and time slowed as he felt the point of the huge beak slide into his flesh. The agony was intense, and he strained desperately not to wriggle and lunge which would slice his flesh against the cruel beak.

Through mists of pain, he saw hands come down over the monster’s eyes, huge in front of his face, and haul them backwards. Hinatea’s head came between him and the eyes, her long hair swirling around him like a death shroud, caressing his cheek in the tide.

The pain was too much, his chest bursting with the need to breathe, and he felt himself going, breathing out the air and water trying to flood into his lungs. Then he was free of the octopus and Silmatea was pulling him to the surface while he thrashed weakly.

Rat was desperately fighting the canoe, already exhausted from going round in circles and convinced Mot would bite him if he messed up again, as the dog was going mental around the canoe. He was finally getting to grips with it by paddling on alternate sides, when Mot barked like crazy and jumped over the side, swimming strongly towards a mass of bubbles roiling to the surface. Silmatea burst out of the bubbles and pulled Pat’s head up. It lolled weakly to the side and Mot was beside them, trying to grab his shoulder and lift him up in the water, unsuccessfully. Rat aimed the canoe awkwardly in their direction, while Silmatea left Pat with Mot, took a couple of quick strokes and eeled into the canoe, relieving Rat of the paddle and telling him to pull Pat aboard.

Quickly she manoeuvred the boat alongside Pat, and Rat pulled him aboard as the blood sluiced out of him. Mot barked wetly through a wave as he forgot her, so he had to pull her in as well. As soon as Pat was aboard, Silmatea stopped paddling, rushed forward and pushed on Pat’s chest, causing him to vomit water. She turned him on his side and he coughed weakly, while she worked his chest till he was breathing to her satisfaction. Through this he continued to bleed.

This took moments, and as soon as she was satisfied she simply leapt over the side with a rope in one hand. Rat hesitated, not sure whether to take the paddle or help Pat. Mot was beside Pat, licking his wound, so he went to get the paddle, but had no idea where to go.

“RAT! Throw me spear, quick!” It was Hinatea, her head just out of the water not far away. He saw her fish spear and threw it to her, cursing as he saw it was going to hit her, but she ducked under water. He wasn’t sure if he hit her, and then blood welled up on the surface, followed by thrashing in the water that moved away from the canoe. A fin appeared in the thrashing, and he wondered what was going on.

An arm came over the edge of the canoe and Silmatea was aboard, the rope between her teeth. She started hauling and shouted at him to help. It was heavy, and he strained, nearly dropping the rope as he saw the octopus was attached to it. Silmatea cursed him, leaned over the side and with difficulty hauled it up into the canoe, with Rat’s fairly ineffectual help. It flopped into the bottom. Rat could see that a couple of tentacles were missing, and he wondered if they were old wounds.

Silmatea was back at the side, banging on the side of the canoe, splashing the water loudly, then Hinatea was sliding into the canoe, blood dripping down the side of her leg where a large patch was rubbed raw. She was panting for breath. She lay gasping in the bottom, while Silmatea checked her leg and quickly looked for other injuries.

Hinatea hauled herself upright, grabbed a paddle and staggered to the front, while Silmatea went to the rear and slowly the girls paddled the canoe back though the gap in the reef into the lagoon. Rat stepped gingerly over the octopus, using the sides of the canoe and went to Pat, helping him to sit up. Mot stopped licking him and growled at the dead octopus.

“Give him coconut water,” Hinatea said over her shoulder, her voice hoarse and strained.

Rat wasn’t adept at opening a coconut, but managed to slash the top open with an old short sword carried for the purpose. He held it to Pat’s lips, who swallowed greedily. Rat looked Pat over. He had really been in the wars. Both hands were ripped to shreds by the coral, the feet not much better. There were round marks all over his body where the suckers had gripped him, some of them surrounded with deep slash wounds where the claws had bitten deep. And there was a deep gash in his groin, where the beak had gone in, still seeping blood, but despite the flapping skin, superficial.

The canoe rode a small wave back into the limpid calm waters of the lagoon and the girls rested, Hinatea turning and taking the coconut from Pat.

He fixed her with a look. “Have you actually hunted those things before?”

She squirmed and shrugged. “Not that big.”

“How big?”

Hinatea looked down, then at the horizon, hoping for a quick squall to come in to change the subject.

“I bet you’ve never even seen one before, never mind caught one,” said Pat tiredly.

“We have old stories,” said Hinatea in a small voice. “Our men used to catch them this way.”

“I think they were smaller,” said Silmatea in an apologetic voice. “Our people always used to kill them before they got big, as they were too dangerous when they got big.”

“How big is it? All I could see was its bloody eyes, glaring at me as it started to eat me.”

Hinatea pulled out the longest tentacle, one of the feelers with the pad at the end. It slurped out from under the body sac, the noise making Mot and Rat retreat, both clearly worried it was still alive.

“You sure it’s dead?” Rat asked nervously.

Hinatea ignored him. She was looking in astonishment at the length, more than two tall people, almost three.

“Not even the hero Tafa’i took a grandfather so big,” she whispered. “I never think I see one this big.”

Silmatea came forward, stepping over Rat and Mot along the gunwale of the canoe and squatted there looking down at it. Then she prodded Hinatea’s leg, just missing the wound.

“Mao?” She asked. “How many?”

“I think three sharks,” said Hinatea. “Two get tentacles, I get one.”

“One come very close,” said Silmatea, inspecting the leg. “From head or tail?”

“What does she mean?” Rat asked, looking more closely at Hinatea’s leg. It looked as if something had shaved the skin off a large patch.

“Shark come close,” Hinatea said dismissively. “Their skin very rough. This from head, hit leg.” She prodded Pat’s side, finding a patch without a wound. “Hey, hero, fun, hey? Tomorrow we catch another?”

Pat grinned at her. “Sure. If we can find this baby’s daddy!” They laughed together and Rat shook his head.

“How did you kill the thing? Last thing I saw was you being pulled into a hole!”

“I didn’t fit,” said Pat. “While it was trying to get at me through the hole, it half let go and I kicked off the rock just as the girls got to me and pulled. It followed us out of the hole and grabbed me, started to eat me.” He indicated his groin. “Hin came up behind it, pulled its head back and bit it.”

Hinatea smacked him half-heartedly. “My name is Hinatea, not Hin. Very rude Patraigh.”

“Sorry,” said Pat automatically. “So what happened next?”

“He tough,” said Hinatea absently, rubbing her arm where they now saw some bruising and gashes on her back. “Hard, very hard to bite his brain. He spin when I do it. Hit me against rock. Then he dead. Shark come to eat him, have to chase off. Cannot come up or lose grandfather to shark, but no air. Silmatea bring me rope. Kiss me to give air. I stay down while you pull up grandfather, keep shark off.”

The boys looked at her, letting this stark account sink in. Pat, who had been feeling very brave and heroic, suddenly felt a lot less so. Silmatea smiled and went back to the stern, where she started to paddle them back to the village.

“What do you mean, kissed you?” Rat asked.

“Bad boy,” said Hinatea tiredly, without looking at him. “Not sex. She blow air into me so I don’t need go up.”

“Wow,” said Rat. “I would never have thought of that.”

“When we go into the village, Patraigh must go first with Hinatea, Rat and I follow with grandfather,” said Silmatea. “Important we look good. Very special to take a big grandfather. They make a big feast in our honour tonight.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully.

“How are we going to carry it?” Rat asked in alarm. “I’m not letting that thing touch me!”

“Is not thing,” said Hinatea indignantly. “Is grandfather, show respect like to Captain.”

“I still don’t want to touch it,” muttered Rat with a worried look.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Silmatea. “We will carry it on our fish spears. We put them across our shoulders, and Hinatea will arrange grandfather over them so they can see how big he is.”

The canoe grounded gently into the white sand, with Mot leaping for the beach and barking at the children who came running and screaming to welcome them, all shouting out asking what they had caught. Pat eased over the side and limped ashore, causing the children to redouble their questions, all shouting at once. In Vituan so he couldn’t understand a word.

They fell silent all at once.

Hinatea had proudly lifted the grandfather up so they could see it.

None of the children said a word as Hinatea arranged the grandfather artistically on the spears, being careful to ensure it didn’t touch Rat. Silmatea carried more of their catch in her net, while Rat had the fish in Hinatea’s net. Mot took up her accustomed station in the lead, tail held proudly high as if she alone were responsible for the catch. As they started forward, the kids silently split apart and followed. A couple of fishermen mending nets at the edge of the town stood up, looking at them.

Pat was in a lot of pain, especially from the bite in his groin, but the wounds in his feet from kicking the coral were very bad on the walk. Hinatea helped a little, but she was also hampered by her thigh which she was careful to keep on the other side of Pat. It was very slow progress. They could see the Great Ratu sitting under the palm trees by the council rock, one arm around Suzanne and talking earnestly to Sara. Captain Larroche had seen them, for he stood up.

Pat looked back at the octopus, seeing the two staggering under the awkward weight. He could feel the quiet falling around the village, and people were appearing from everywhere to watch silently as they made their grand entrance. He tried to stand straighter. It wasn’t every day you limped into town a hero, having battled a monster from legend.

They staggered proudly up towards the Great Ratu, and Hinatea mentally rehearsed what she would say. She held herself higher, reminding herself not to disparage the kai Viti for not slaying this monster, but to be gentle and kind. After being named Biau Lala, Wave Dancer, she wondered how she would be honoured for her bravery and skill in despatching the monster of the reef.