The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel) (38 page)

Having witnessed this ritual many times over the years, Adi knew exactly what she must do next. She sat down facing the far wall, her back to the others. This was the signal for the villagers to begin singing a haunting melody. Adi sang along quietly, a slight tremor the only betrayal of any trepidation over what was about to happen. Overall, she appeared calm, even happy. Her calmness reflected the overriding joy she felt knowing she would soon be with her husband.

The singing intensified as Joeli tore a length of tapa cloth and wound it tight so it resembled a cord. Winding the cord once around Adi’s neck, he handed the other end of the cord to Manasa.

Just then, Drake Senior appeared in the open doorway. The singing had caught his attention and he’d come to investigate. Sensing something was happening, he pushed his way through the assembled villagers until he reached Joeli’s side. His gaze rested on Adi.

Adi’s aunt stepped forward and, placing her hand on the back of her niece’s neck, gently pushed Adi’s head forward so that her chin rested on her chest. Joeli looked into the eyes of Manasa. As Adi’s nearest blood relative, it was up to him to make the next move. Without any hesitation, Manasa began pulling his end of the cord while Joeli took up the resistance at his end. The cord immediately tightened, cutting off Adi’s air supply. Her face reddened and her eyes bulged as the cord tightened.

Horrified, Drake Senior rushed to Adi’s assistance. “Dear God, no!” he cried.

Two robust men grabbed him and pulled him back. Drake Senior could only look on as the gruesome ritual continued.

The three other men Manasa had recruited immediately lent their assistance and began pulling on the cord. Their arm muscles bulged as they engaged in this deadly tug-of-war. At the same time Adi’s aunt, a big woman, clamped one hand over her niece’s mouth and nose.

The singing intensified.

As Adi was starved of air, she began convulsing and throwing her arms about. Unable to watch, Drake Senior turned his head away. After a struggle that seemed to go on interminably but in fact was only a short while, Adi slumped forward, dead. The singing immediately ceased and was replaced by chanting and wailing. Drake Senior returned his gaze to Adi and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer aloud.

Joeli and the others immediately released the cord. Manasa removed it from around his sister’s neck and carried her body over to where Iremaia lay. There, he lay her body down beside Iremaia’s. A high priest then offered up a prayer, seeking a safe journey to the Spirit World for the souls of the deceased. The other villagers gathered around, offering up prayers of their own.

Drake Senior had seen enough. He felt sick to his stomach. Disgusted by the display he’d just witnessed, he strode toward the doorway, pushing villagers out of his way. Outside, he doubled over, dry retching. When he recovered, he straightened up to find himself face to
face with Joeli. Glaring at him, Drake Senior asked, “Why?”

“It is the way of our people.”

Then your people will burn in hell,
Drake Senior thought, turning his back on Joeli.

The future ratu watched impassively as the missionary walked away.

# 

That night, sponging Nathan’s forehead in Inoki’s bure, Susannah felt exhausted by the day’s events. Still in shock, she desperately wanted to sleep, but dared not leave Nathan unattended. Inoki and Selaima had been helping her until they’d succumbed to their tiredness and fallen asleep on floor mats nearby.

Nathan was no better. He was feverish, tossing and turning and crying out in his sleep. Fresh bandages around his chest were already blood-stained.

Susannah studied his face. It was lit by the embers of the fire that had been burning in the middle of the bure until a few moments earlier. Susannah didn’t have the energy to keep it going and tend to Nathan.

Drake Senior suddenly entered the bure. He looked down at Susannah. “How is he?”

“Not good, Papa.
He has a fever.”

Drake Senior was actually more concerned for his daughter’s wellbeing than for the American’s. “You should get some rest now.”

Susannah shook her head, indicating she wouldn’t be leaving Nathan’s side.

Drake Senior said, “We need to talk.”

Sensing her father had something important on his mind, Susannah slowly pushed herself to her feet and allowed him to lead her from the bure.

Outside, Drake Senior came straight to the point. “I made a terrible mistake bringing you here,” he murmured. “This place is far too dangerous for a lady.”

“No, Papa. I—”

“Hush, my child. I have already reached a decision. When we have finished nursing the wounded here and helped them begin to rebuild their lives, I will be sending you home.”

Susannah shook her head stubbornly. “Papa, you said yourself the good Lord will protect us.”

Drake Senior drew himself up to his full height and looked sternly at his daughter. “I have made my decision,” he growled, turning away. Without another word, he began walking brusquely toward the mission station.

Susannah watched him depart then she reentered Inoki’s bure to keep her vigil over Nathan. She arrived to find Selaima awake and wiping sweat from Nathan’s forehead with a damp cloth. Smiling at the slave girl, Susannah took over from her. She was alarmed to see Nathan was perspiring more than ever despite the cool night air.

Live, damn you.

A worried Susannah sponged Nathan’s face, determined to combat his fever and keep him alive. Nathan cried out in his sleep as the fever held him in its grip.

Susannah was so
preoccupied, she didn’t notice the look on Selaima’s face. The slave girl didn’t like playing second fiddle to the Englishwoman. She wanted to care for the handsome American herself.

Selaima wasn’t as worried about Nathan as Susannah was because she knew something Susannah didn’t: she knew Nathan would live. Just how she knew, not even she could explain. She had powers that, as far as she was aware, only she knew about.

The slave girl had what the other members of her distant Bauan clan referred to as
the gift
. The gift couldn’t easily be explained. Unique to the Bauans, it surfaced in one member of the clan, on average, once every ten or so summers. Whoever inherited the gift inherited amazing powers of healing and prophecy. They could also cast spells, which primarily accounted for why others held them in awe and often feared them.

In Selaima’s case, she hadn’t become aware of her powers until very recently. For some reason not even she completely understood, she’d chosen—for the moment at least—to keep her powers to herself.

Now, watching Susannah care for Nathan, Selaima thought about using her powers to help the wounded American. But she wouldn’t stop at that: she’d also use her powers to ensure the Englishwoman kept well away from the man she knew they both lusted after.

12

S
usannah woke to the sounds of labor coming from outside. Although the sun had not long risen, it was evident to her the villagers were already up and about. The young Englishwoman felt refreshed even though she’d been up half the night attending to Nathan.

Suddenly remembering where she was, Susannah rolled over and found herself looking into Nathan’s face, not an arm’s length away. He was sleeping peacefully. Beyond him, the old healer, Inoki, and the slave girl, Selaima, were also sleeping. Susannah allowed her gaze to return to Nathan’s face, taking in his handsome features. She found herself memorizing every feature, every line on his face.

Nathan suddenly stirred, jolting Susannah out of her reverie. She waited to see if he’d woken. He remained fast asleep. Sitting up, Susannah leaned over to check Nathan’s dressings. Satisfied they were all right, she then placed the palm of her hand on his forehead to check his temperature.
Still too hot.
His forehead felt clammy. Knowing the best thing she could do for him was to let him sleep, she slowly pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the bure’s open doorway.

Outside, she yawned as she observed her surroundings. Villagers were attending to the task of rebuilding their bures and defenses. Joeli was down near the beach supervising the relief of lookouts who had spent the night guarding the approaches to the village. The future ratu was about to lead a small group of warriors out to patrol the surrounding hills. All except Joeli carried muskets. He still stubbornly preferred the tried and tested traditional weapons of his forefathers.

Susannah looked beyond the warriors to the mission station. The unscathed chapel stood out like a beacon amid the destruction around it. The mission house and a small building that had served as a workshop and laundry had been razed to the ground by the outcasts.

Susannah began walking toward the mission station. As she walked, she steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation ahead: she knew her father would be raising the subject of sending her home.

At the mission station, Susannah found Drake Senior already up and about. He had converted the unscathed chapel into a temporary abode, complete with two beds and a makeshift table. Susannah noticed he’d already prepared breakfast for two.

“Good morning, Papa,” Susannah said.

“Good morning,” an unsmiling Drake Senior responded. “Breakfast is ready,” he said, nodding toward the table.

Father and daughter ate in silence. The tension of the previous evening—when Drake Senior had insisted Susannah must return to England—was still in the air.

Looking through the chapel window at the
Rendezvous
anchored out in the bay, Drake Senior said, “The
Rendezvous
sails for the western whaling grounds today.” Susannah said nothing. The reverend continued, “I have arranged with Captain McTavish to take you back to Levuka when the ship returns this way in a couple of weeks.”

“Papa, I told you—”

“It is not safe for you here.”

“My place is here—”

“Enough!” Drake Senior thumped the tabletop with his fist, causing Susannah to jump. “You already have my decision,” he said.

Close to tears, Susannah stood up and ran outside.

“Susannah!” Drake Senior called.

She ignored him and kept running down to the beach.

Susannah reached the beach as the
Rendezvous
’s longboat was approaching the shore. In it were the familiar figures of Captain McTavish and Eric Foley as well as two sailors who were manning the oars. Susannah walked down to the water’s edge to greet them.

McTavish and Foley saw her coming. They climbed out of the craft and approached her. The captain asked, “How is Mr. Johnson, Miss Drake?”

“He seems a little better this morning, thank you, captain.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Susannah remembered Lightning Rod. She looked sympathetically at the Irish first mate, saying, “I was sorry to learn of Rodney’s death, Mr. Foley.”

“Thank ye, Miss,” Foley mumbled. There was an awkward moment of silence. Foley looked at the captain then back to Susannah. “Ah, Miss . . . I understand ye’ll be leaving this place soon,” he ventured.

Susannah feigned surprised. “Why would you assume that, Mr. Foley?”

“Well, Miss, your father is concerned for your safety. You’ve already seen 'ow dangerous it is here. Those cannibals could return.”

“Our lives are in the good Lord’s hands,” Susannah responded. She turned and pointed to the mission station chapel. “You will have noted the outcasts did not touch the chapel.”

The two seamen looked at each other, unsure how to respond. Finally, McTavish said, “Ah, I’m afraid we can’t delay our departure for the Mamanucas any longer.”

“But what about Mr. Johnson?” Susannah asked.

“He’s better off here with you.”

Susannah looked to Foley.

“Unfortunately, we have to leave him 'ere, Miss,” Foley apologized. “We must get to the western whaling grounds before the cyclone season begins.”

“Oh, I see.”

McTavish hurriedly added, “The whalers are relying on us to deliver urgent provisions, but we’ll be back this way in a fortnight. So we can check on Mr. Johnson then.”

The two seamen seemed embarrassed they couldn’t be of more assistance. McTavish doffed his cap. “Good luck to you and your father.”

Foley added, “And to Nathan.”

“Thank you.” Susannah smiled. “May God be with you.” She watched as the seamen returned to the longboat and were rowed back toward the
Rendezvous
before walking slowly up to the village. As she walked, her thoughts returned to Nathan. She wondered how he was faring. Without realizing it, she quickened her pace.

Striding through the village toward Inoki’s bure, she was pleased to see that life was slowly returning to a semblance of normality. The villagers were making steady progress rebuilding their bures, children were running around, and laughter could be heard for the first time since the carnage of the previous day. Looking back at the mission station, she saw work was now underway there, too. Having finished breakfast alone, Drake Senior had begun rebuilding the mission house. He was being assisted by two strapping young men he’d recruited from the village.

Susannah paused outside Inoki’s bure to watch the
Rendezvous
up anchor and sail out of Momi Bay. The schooner was rapidly pushed westward ahead of a stiff easterly. Susannah knew her father would be expecting her to board the schooner when it next called in. Putting that out of her mind, she entered the bure to find Nathan was still sleeping. Inoki and Selaima were now awake and watching over him. The old healer was hovering over his patient, chanting, while the slave girl sat nearby, singing softly.

Susannah went straight to Nathan and knelt down beside him. Placing her hand on his forehead, she checked his temperature again.

Good!

She nodded, encouraged by what she found: Nathan’s temperature had come down since she’d left him earlier.

Selaima smiled to herself as she watched Susannah fuss over Nathan. Initially, she’d wondered what the relationship was between the Englishwoman and the handsome American. It had always been clear to her the woman had feelings for him, but just how deep those feelings ran she could only guess. Since Nathan had been wounded, it had become very clear to her just how much Susannah cared for him.

It irked Selaima that Susannah thought it was because of her own efforts and her foreign healing methods that Nathan was now out of danger. She longed to inform her that his recovery was because of the magic herbal potion she’d administered while alone with him.

Selaima also longed to inform Susannah that she would soon be ill as a result of a spell she’d woven. Not ill enough to die, but ill enough to keep her apart from Nathan for a while at least.

Nathan slept for the remainder of the day and most of the night, waking only to drink fluids that Susannah forced into him at regular intervals. This had the desired effect and his temperature gradually normalized. The downside was that he frequently urinated where he lay. Susannah thought, if Nathan were lucid, he’d agree that urinating in his sleep was a small price to pay for his life.

# 

The following morning, Nathan woke to find he was alone with Inoki, who, at that moment, was hovering above him, chanting and waving a smoldering stick over his head.

Looking at his clothes, the young American realized they’d been changed; he was wearing someone else’s trousers and someone had bathed him. He wondered who had been responsible for that, not realizing that Susannah and Selaima had taken turns caring for him through the night.

Nathan racked his brains trying to recall what had happened to him and how he’d ended up here. His chest hurt like hell. Slowly, the memory of being speared by the wounded outcast he’d stumbled onto after the attack on the village came to him.

When was that? Yesterday? Last week?

Then details of the battle came flooding back to him, like small explosions in his brain.

Inoki suddenly held the smoldering stick under Nathan’s nose and began chanting more loudly. Not wanting to offend the elderly healer, Nathan resisted the urge to turn his head away to escape the smoke, which was threatening to choke him. When Nathan felt he could bear it no more, Inoki mercifully removed the stick and lapsed into silence.

Observing the old man, Nathan thought back to how he’d almost left the villagers alone to fend for
themselves. The fact that he’d even considered so cowardly an act made him feel ashamed—especially as the people he’d been ready to forsake were now the very people who were keeping him alive in their village. For one of the few times in his life, he actually felt his conscience stirring.

Nathan suddenly thought of Susannah and wondered where she was. The thought occurred she may have left Momi Bay. His fears were allayed when, moments later, Susannah entered the bure holding a jar. Nathan imagined he caught a look of pleasant surprise on her face, but couldn’t be certain. The two stared at each other in silence.

At last, Susannah said, “Nathan . . . ah . . .Mr. Johnson. How are you?”

“Nathan will do,” he said, gingerly trying to sit up. “I’ve been better.”

Susannah went to him and helped him to sit up. Then, opening the jar, she said, “These are healing herbs we brought out from England. They might help.” With that, she gently removed Nathan’s bandages and sprinkled crushed herbs over his chest.

Nathan watched her as she proceeded to rub the herbs into his wound. Finally, he asked, “Since when did you start worrying about me?”

Susannah blushed. “This is the least I can do after what you did for us . . . and for this village.”

This only served to remind Nathan how he’d nearly deserted Susannah and her father. Casting guilty thoughts from his mind, he studied Susannah’s beautiful face and lustrous red hair as she worked on him. Their faces were only inches apart. Neither said another word, but still the pair somehow seemed to communicate – an unseen energy flowing between them.

Suddenly mindful of her close proximity to Nathan, Susannah abruptly stood up, embarrassed, and prepared to leave, saying, “I will pray for your health.”

Nathan was about to ask her to stay a while, but couldn’t find the words. The young Englishwoman had that effect on him.

Susannah paused in the doorway. Looking back, she said, “Oh, by the way, the
Rendezvous
left this morning.”

Nathan frowned but said nothing. He remembered the balance of his muskets were still in the schooner’s hold and wondered if he’d ever see them again. Strangely though, Susannah dominated his mind more than the potential profits from his pending trade. He couldn’t believe how mesmerized he was by the redheaded missionary. She had cast a spell over him. Nathan put this down to his feverish state.