The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel) (30 page)

With his goal in mind, Nathan turned to Drake Senior. “May I teach your daughter some dance steps, Reverend Drake?”

The older man seemed taken aback at Nathan’s boldness. He looked at Susannah, who surreptitiously shook her head, indicating her disapproval of Nathan. After a moment's hesitation, Drake Senior motioned to his daughter to stand up. “Go on, my dear,” he smiled. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew it was time for Susannah to start mingling with the opposite sex. Even though he didn't like the look of Nathan one bit, he reasoned that one dance couldn’t hurt.

Susannah glared at her father, but did as he bade. Nathan led her by the arm to the center of the crowded dance floor as the band played a slow waltz. He was suddenly very aware of her closeness and of the warmth that emanated from her body. Placing his arm around her slender waist, he began leading her around the floor.

After a minute or two, Susannah loosened up a little and allowed herself to smile at her dance partner. Their eyes met and she had to look away. She was sure his startling blue eyes could see right into her soul.

Susannah looked back to find his eyes still fixed on her. As before, she felt her pulse quicken. This worldly young man had an effect on her she had no control over. His thigh brushed hers and she felt
a delicious warmth spread through her veins. She tried to fight the feeling, but the more she fought it, the less control she had. Susannah felt her cheeks redden.

For his part, Nathan was also trying to fight the feelings of lust he felt for Susannah as he guided her around the floor. Her red hair gave her an underlying air of sexuality and her femininity filled his nostrils as he breathed her in; her hand in his felt cool yet so hot it was almost painful. No stranger to women, he marveled at the effect Susannah was having on him. He desperately wanted to bed her and it took all his control not to pull her tight against him and kiss her. That was all he wanted
—nothing more. The truth was he had never actually been in love. Unlike Susannah, he’d had many opportunities to fall in love, but had always opted for short-term, physical relationships ahead of anything more meaningful. One miffed lover had said he couldn’t commit because that would mean loving someone more than he loved himself. He’d laughed it off, but, on reflection, had admitted to his inner self there may have been some truth to that. 

Nathan returned his full attention to Susannah. Although certainly beautiful, she was the type of woman he despised. How he would have loved to erase the moral superiority he imagined was written all over her face. If not for the fact that she and her father would be his traveling companions over the next couple of days, or that Drake Senior was close by, he
’d have been tempted to rip her pretty, white cotton dress off and have his way with her then and there.

As the band played on, Nathan continued staring at Susannah. The young woman was feeling unnerved by Nathan’s forward manner. But more than that, she was afraid he’d realize the effect he was having on her.

Dear Lord, forgive me for feeling like this.

Susannah avoided Nathan’s eyes for the remainder of the dance.

3

E
arly next morning, a horse-drawn cart carried the Drakes the short distance from their temporary lodgings at the mission station to the waterfront. The cart was groaning beneath the weight of bags and boxes containing their personal effects.

Gone were the clouds of the previous day; the sun had the sky to itself, forecasting another hot day ahead.

Susannah and her father were both filled with a sense of excitement knowing they were about to embark on the final leg of a journey that had started in England. Out on the harbor, they could see the
Rendezvous
, the schooner that would deliver them to their final destination, the mission station at Momi Bay. Sailors could be seen clambering over her decks, readying her for the voyage ahead.

Susannah wondered idly if Nathan was already on board. She had no way of knowing that he was, at that very moment, observing her through a telescope he
’d borrowed from the Irish first mate, Eric Foley.

Despite the early hour, the track they followed was clogged with hundreds of Fijians who, like them, were heading down to the waterfront. It seemed the entire native population was on the move. The local people were chattering away and seemed excited about something.

“I wonder what the occasion is, Papa?” Susannah asked.

“Perhaps they are coming to wave us off, my dear,” Drake Senior suggested.

“I doubt that,” Susannah smiled.

They arrived at Levuka
’s waterfront to find access to the wharf partially blocked by the crowds. The Fijians were singing a traditional song. Their harmonies echoed hauntingly in the still morning air.

“Must be some kind of ceremony,” Drake Senior ventured. He looked to the cart’
s Fijian driver for some explanation, but the man seemed strangely noncommittal, mumbling something incoherent.

With difficulty, the cart weaved through the crowd and finally trundled onto the wharf where the
Rendezvous
’s longboat was waiting to take the Drakes out to the schooner. Willing hands lowered the Drakes and their possessions down into the longboat, and in no time the craft was moving away from the wharf.

As the longboat closed with the
Rendezvous
, the Drakes observed the Fijians on the sandy foreshore. Behind the assembled throng, they could see a massive drua, or double-hulled sailing craft, resting high and dry on the sand. The drua was all of forty yards long and comprised hundreds of wooden components knitted together to form its deck and hull. A smaller hull was joined to the main hull by a myriad of crossbeams to provide strength and flexibility.

Pointing toward the drua, Drake Senior said, “It appears they may be going to launch that vessel.”

“Why such a fuss about it, I wonder?” Susannah mused aloud.

The oarsmen knew the answer to that question, but remained silent as they bent their backs and concentrated on their rowing. They knew that
throughout the islands and waterways of Fiji, the mighty drua—or craft similar to this one—inspired dread and awe. The result of major building programs and human sacrifice, the sacred, double-hulled craft could carry as many as three hundred warriors at close to twenty knots. The oarsmen also suspected, in keeping with tradition, the launching of this particular drua would be accompanied by human sacrifice on a large scale. They just hoped the
Rendezvous
set sail before the missionary couple could witness such an awful spectacle.

When the longboat nudged up against the schooner’s side, Nathan joined crewmen in
assisting the Drakes aboard.  “Good morning, Miss Drake,” he smiled, extending a helping hand to Susannah as she reached the deck by way of a ladder attached to the rail.

Taking the hand of a nearby sailor in preference to Nathan’s, an unsmiling Susannah said, “Good morning, Mr. Johnson.”

Nathan noted the young Englishwoman seemed far from pleased to see him—and her father completely ignored him.

Also on deck to greet the Drakes was
the ship's master, Captain Billy McTavish, a grizzled old sea dog with the thickest of Scottish burrs. A friendly Scotsman, he made them feel immediately at ease—as did first mate Eric Foley, who was considerably more sober than the last time he saw the missionary couple.

Lightning Rod hovered around behind Foley and looked delighted when Susannah beamed a warm smile his way.

While the Drakes’ personal effects were being lifted aboard, Captain McTavish had a quiet word with one of his crew. The crewman nodded grimly and immediately escorted the missionary couple to their quarters below deck. Negotiating the steerage steps that would take them to their quarters, they had to momentarily brace themselves as the anchor was hastily raised, the sails were hoisted and the
Rendezvous
began sailing out of Levuka’s harbor.

The Drakes were blissfully unaware that the crewman who accompanied them was under orders to find some excuse to detain them below deck so they would not witness what was already beginning to unfold on shore.

By now, the Fijians’ numbers on Levuka’s foreshore had grown to several thousand. Despite their numbers, they were strangely quiet.  There was an air of tension. The ratu, or chief, overseeing proceedings stepped forward to address the assembled. A huge man even by Fijian standards, he raised his hand skyward. Two hundred naked warriors fell to their knees before him. He ordered them to their feet. They stood and the ratu circulated among them, offering words of encouragement.

Like the ratu, many of his warriors sported hairstyles similar to those of the warriors of Momi Bay. Some hairstyles were two feet high or more, while others were almost that wide, and many were brightly colored. Their owners wore them proudly while, to any European looking on, the effect was comical.

The warriors’ faces shone with pride at the great honor they believed awaited them. Their ratu reminded them of the rewards in store for them in the Spirit World. He then raised his hand a second time and the warriors turned and solemnly began walking up to the drua. The crowd parted to make way for them.

All two hundred warriors lay down in two rows that extended from the drua
’s bow to the water’s edge. It was evident to Nathan and the others watching aboard the
Rendezvous
that the warriors were about to be sacrificed as human rollers. Other warriors grabbed hold of ropes dangling from the drua’s deck. The onlookers began singing while those holding the ropes began pulling. The drua held firm in the sand.

As more natives pulled on the ropes, it slowly inched forward. When its hull rolled over the first of the naked warriors, it gathered speed. Screams of agony and grunts of pain rang out as the nearest warriors were crushed to death in this centuries-old tradition.

Now moving at walking pace, the mighty drua rolled inexorably down toward the sea. Beneath her hull, more sacrificial warriors were crushed. Their mangled bodies were left half-buried in the sand behind her. Miraculously, one or two survived, albeit badly injured. They were quickly finished off by club-wielding natives.

As the death toll rose, the singing was replaced by the wailing and chanting of loved ones. Their loss was assuaged slightly by the knowledge their dearly departed were already on their way to a better place.

Now only a few paces from the water’s edge, the drua gathered momentum. One of the last warriors in the sacrificial line-up, a teenage boy, suddenly lost his nerve and rolled out of the way. An armed warrior ready for such incidents clubbed him unconscious and rolled him back into position. The boy disappeared beneath the hull as the drua finally slid into the water.

Behind the vessel, two lines of broken, mangled bodies marked its bloody passage to the sea.

A huge cheer erupted from the onlookers. After several years of effort, and many, many sacrifices, their sacred drua was now afloat.

More natives appeared carrying a mighty mast and sails. These were hoisted on board, and still more men were sacrificed as the mast was assembled and the sails rigged. These sacrificial volunteers were killed by spear-wielding warriors who expertly stabbed them through the chest or back, killing them quickly. The sea around the drua was soon red with blood. It wasn’t long before the sinister fins of ocean predators appeared.

Aboard the
Rendezvous,
the crewman assigned to the Drakes was working hard to ensure the couple remained below deck. He maintained a steady patter as he insisted on giving the missionaries a guided tour of the galley, the dining room and even the hold once they’d familiarized themselves with their quarters. They remained mercifully ignorant of the bloodshed onshore.

However, Nathan didn
’t escape the sickening sight. He was standing at the stern rail as the schooner sailed out of the harbor. With the aid of his borrowed telescope, he saw every ghastly detail of the launching of the drua.

The young American was sorely tempted to bring the event to the attention of the Drakes. He thought the bloodshed may change their view of the
noble
Fijians whose souls they were so intent on saving. But he resisted the temptation.

#

Nathan was still on deck when the Drakes finally emerged from below for one last look at the picturesque island of Ovalau. The island was growing steadily smaller as the schooner continued west toward Viti Levu.

As before, the Drakes ignored Nathan as if he wasn
’t there, preferring to talk to the captain and first mate. The young American was beginning to wonder if he was invisible. He had no way of knowing Susannah was very aware of his presence.

Nearby, Lightning Rod emptied a bucket of slops over the schooner’s side. Nathan noticed the simpleton kept looking nervously skyward. He wondered whether he was looking at the riggers scrambling about in the rigging high above or at the cloudless sky beyond.

Noticing Nathan’s interest in Lightning Rod, Foley wandered over to him. “Don't worry about Rod,” Foley explained. “He’s just looking for the next lightning bolt.”

“Doesn’t he know lightning never strikes twice?”

“He’s been struck five times that I know of, has poor old Rod.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Nathan shook his head in disbelief, turning back to study Lightning Rod. Foley walked away chuckling.

Looking over at Susannah, Nathan noted she was still studiously ignoring him. Taking the hint, he retired below deck, intent on checking his valuable cargo which he knew was in the schooner’s hold.

Down in the hold, he soon
found what he was looking for: five caskets. They contained the muskets he’d acquired for his forthcoming trading venture.

Prizing open the lid of the nearest casket, he could hardly contain his delight at the sight of twenty brand-new, gleaming muskets. The caskets were part of a larger consignment of muskets he’d brought with him from San Francisco; the
balance of muskets were stored under lock and key back in Levuka.

Nathan wondered how his plans to trade muskets to the Fijians would pan out. He
knew there was a lot to consider. The problem was Susannah kept intruding on his thoughts.

Damn that woman!

He forced himself to focus on his trading plans.

#

Later that day, Susannah sat on the deck reading Fijian words aloud from a text book. Behind her, to starboard, was the big island of Viti Levu. “Nau-rari,” she said hesitantly, struggling to get her tongue around yet another strange place name.
“Nau-sori. Nausori. Sigatoka. Lautoka.”

Further along the deck, but within earshot, Nathan was studying Viti Levu’s Coral Coast through a telescope. As he surveyed the coastline he remembered he
’d read that Viti Levu translated as
Great Land
. He sneaked the occasional glance at Susannah, who remained engrossed in her studies.

Nathan was joined by Foley. To the younger man
’s chagrin, the hard-case Irishman continued where he’d left off over breakfast, relating his life story to his new friend.

“As I was saying,” Foley began rambling, “Foley comes from the Gaelic O’Foghladh, which means I'm from a long line of plunderers! I concede 'tis fair to say we Foleys all have a touch of the blarney, also.”

Nathan, who could barely understand Foley's thick Irish accent at the best of times, wasn't listening. His attention was fully on the young Englishwoman. He hated how she was dominating his thoughts.

“We Foleys sure have the blarney alright,” Foley said, continuing his ramblings, “but me ma also taught me that a man’s gotta earn his bacon. And that’s what I tell the men under me. Earn your bacon.
Even it if means squealin’ like a pig.” The eccentric Irishman scrunched up his weatherbeaten face and proceeded to squeal like a piglet. He stopped when he realized Nathan wasn't amused.

Ignoring the men, Susannah continued reciting aloud, “Malololailai, Namuka-i-Lau.
Namenalala.” She had been studying Fijian since departing England. Only now was the language starting to make sense to her. She continued, “Natovi, Waya Waya Lailai.”

Listening to her, Nathan shook his head. Turning to Foley, he whispered, “Does she really think those natives are gonna give a damn about the Word of God?”