Daughter of the Reef (14 page)

Hoihoi watched from the bank. “Then let me tell you about this Papara man I found...”

The talk was soon interrupted by deep voices and the rustling of footsteps in dry leaves beyond the stream. Tepua turned and saw two warriors, each carrying a long spear, staring at her. Hastily she covered herself as she came out of the water. The intruders gave her a disturbing chill. She had seen one of them before—standing guard at the headman's compound.
 

“What do you mean, bothering us at our baths?” Hoihoi demanded.

“Headman's business,” came a curt response. “The visitor—the atoll woman—must come with us.”

Tepua turned with a start. Enjoying the pleasant surroundings, she had allowed herself to relax. Now hair prickled at the nape of her neck as she drew her wrap about her and tucked it in firmly. What could the headman want?
 

Nervously she turned toward Hoihoi, hoping for an answer. “If Pigs-run-out calls you, you must go,” Hoihoi said in an angry whisper. “But I will send my brother after you. If the headman asks what you are doing in his district, then Rimapoa will answer.”
 

“And what can he say?” Tepua glanced again at the impatient guards and felt herself starting to perspire.

“That we honor the Maohi customs,” said Hoihoi. “That we have taken you in as our guest.”

Guest
. It pleased Tepua to hear that word. She recalled, not long ago, how Hoihoi had scorned the fisherman for trying to help her. At least Tepua had two friends now, though she doubted they could influence the headman.
 

While Hoihoi hurried off to find Rimapoa, Tepua followed the guards. With only a few grunts for conversation, they took her on the same path she had followed days earlier, finally nearing a fenced compound close to the beach. Just as they reached the pebbled path she heard footsteps and a familiar voice behind her. The underchief's men turned, and when they saw Rimapoa, they waved their spears at him. “Go home to your bigmouthed sister,” one guard called.
 

At the compound, they marched through the gate without a glance at the man on watch. Behind them Rimapoa began arguing loudly, but the guard refused to let him pass. Tepua stiffened as she heard his anguished voice.
 

“Let me speak to him,” she said to the guards. As she turned to the fisherman she felt the point of a spear against her back. Her lips trembled, but she managed to get out a few words. “Rimapoa, go home. There is nothing ... you can do for me here.”
 

“If the headman takes from me what I value the most,” he said harshly, “I will show my feelings.” In his hand he carried something she had seen before, a shark's tooth lashed onto a short stick. This implement was similar to those from her own island, and the fact that he carried it made her trembling worse. To show grief, a person used it to strike himself...
 

“You do not need that,” Tepua hissed. “Nothing has happened to me. I have not even heard yet what the headman wants.” Her throat tightened and tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She felt the guard's hand on her shoulder.
 

“I will wait for you, then,” the fisherman said gruffly. “If you do not come back soon ...”

Tepua turned away, trying to hold her head up and walk in the manner that had been drilled into her. She was a daughter of a chief, after all. She could trace her ancestry to the great creator god, Tangaroa. Why should she be frightened of a mere underchief?
 

Within the bamboo fence lay a neat cluster of thatched houses. Pigs, dogs, and children roamed freely under the breadfruit trees while servants scurried about keeping the grounds spotless. Tepua heard the clattering of
tapa
mallets and turned to see a row of women hammering out bark-cloth on a long beam. They stopped to glance at her, their gazes lingering. The men called for Tepua to hurry.
 

Then she entered the wide doorway and saw Pigs-run-out sitting on an elegant four-legged stool. The underchief was not garbed in the finery she had seen the previous night. Instead, he wore a simple turban of yellow bark-cloth and a white, printed cape.
 

“May you prosper, noble chief,” Tepua said when she knelt before him.

He held a polished coconut shell in his pudgy hand and took a sip from it before speaking. Then, with an arrogant sniff, he acknowledged her greeting. “You are a foreigner,” he said in a harsh tone. “A woman from the pearl-shell islands. Tell me your name and how you got here.”
 

For a moment Tepua's tongue refused to budge. “I—I am called Tepua-mua. I was washed ashore.”

The chief leaned forward. “Your canoe sank?”

It pained her to remember. “I fell overboard. Then I found a smaller boat. The currents carried me, and I paddled—”

“You came a long way,” he said. “But now what is your intention? Do you ask permission to live in my district?”

She struggled with his question. Was this a trap? How did he want her to answer? His knit brows and piercing gaze gave her no hint. “I—would be pleased to stay.”
 

The underchief narrowed his eyes. “You do not wish to go back to your family?”

How could she reply truthfully? “I would like to learn Maohi ways. And remain in Tahiti.”

He smiled coldly. “Then that is all I need ask you for now. The rest I have seen for myself.”

Tepua felt her face grow hot. Last night she had noticed him watching her, but his expression had remained distant. Even now she felt that he was examining her as he might study an unusual fish. He still had not said whether she could stay.
 

“Look,” the headman continued. “This is my youngest daughter—Small-foot.” From the corner, a figure crept out. It was a slender girl, who eyed her shyly, then scampered back to her hiding place. “She is very pretty, is she not?”
 

Tepua whispered her agreement.

“She will grow up to be as beautiful as her mother,” declared the headman. “Yes. And she will be the best dancer on the island as well. That is why I am granting your request.”
 

“Dancer?” Tepua felt bewilderment as well as relief.

“You will teach her. Do not be modest about your skills. Everyone watched you last night. And I am a generous man. I do not ask exactly where you came from, or what enemies might pursue you. I take you into my household and grant you my protection.” He turned to one of his attendants. “Let Hard-mallet take charge of this new one,” the headman said. “And be sure the dancing lessons start at once. I am expecting important company in a few days.” He waved Tepua and the others away.
 

Tepua did not know what to make of this new situation. The headman had offered her protection, but what would he want in exchange? Surely more than just lessons for his daughter. And what of her own hopes? If a chance did come for her to join the Arioi, would she be free to take it?
 

With dismay, she realized that now she must leave Hoihoi and her brother. How she would miss Hoihoi's coarse humor! And what of Rimapoa? If she remained with him much longer, she might well do what had once seemed impossible.
 

She frowned, knowing that the fisherman would not take this separation well. Coming out into the shaded yard that surrounded the houses, she glanced around but did not see him. She darted toward the bamboo fence and peered between the gaps. There he stood, scowling, scuffling his feet on the ground. “Rimapoa!” she called.
 

His woeful expression did not ease as he came up to her. “What does that scoundrel want?” he whispered.

She explained hastily, and the fisherman's reaction was exactly what she had feared. With a groan of despair he swung the shark's-tooth flail at his forehead, striking until blood began to flow. “Is this how he rewards me,” he cried, “for all those plump fish I brought him?”
 

“This is neither reward nor punishment!” she answered, thrusting her hand between the poles to stop his frenzy. “It means nothing to the headman that I have my own wishes, or that you care about me.”
 

“Then I will make it mean something to him.” He shook free of her and gashed himself again.

“No!” Tepua caught his hand between hers, cradling it. His anguish seemed to ease for a moment. “Listen,” she said quickly, for she heard footsteps coming. “I am not caged here.” For proof she shook one of the bamboo staves of the fence, showing how loosely it was set into the ground. “He does not hold me prisoner.”
 

“Then you will come to me?”

“When I can. Now go home and put the shark's tooth away.”

Gradually his scowl began to soften. He thrust his other hand between the poles and pressed her fingers. “Yes,” he said. “I know you will come. You will not forget Rimapoa.” With a wary glance toward the approaching guards, he scurried off, looking back at her after almost every step.
 

Tepua sighed, admitting to herself that she was relieved to see him go. His display had embarrassed her, and she hoped it had not drawn much attention. Yes, she cared for him, in a way she had never cared about a man. Often, while working, she would recall something he had told her, or remember a certain roguish look in his eye.
 

Now she would be living among a different class of people. How could she expect the women of the underchief's household to understand the bond between herself and the fisherman?
 

Drawing in her breath, she lifted her head and turned to face the underchief's compound. This was to be her new home now. She must adapt to it, as she had to Rimapoa's hut. Perhaps she would even find a friend.
 

Returning to the yard, she saw a short and attractive young woman, with a broad face and small mouth, approaching her. “I am called Hard-mallet,” said the other pleasantly. “They say I am to show you around. As a stranger among us you will have a few things to learn.”
 

Tepua nodded, following Hard-mallet to where the other women sat hammering bark-cloth on a long wooden beam. “The chief gives many gifts of cloth,” Hard-mallet explained. “That is why he keeps us so busy with this work. You will be expected to do your part.”
 

Tepua protested. “He told me I am to be his daughter's teacher.”

“That is but one small part of your duties.”

“And what are the rest? Must I share his sleeping mat as well?”

Hard-mallet grimaced with distaste and looked away. “I do—sometimes,” she said softly. “The best I can say for him is that he is quick about it.”
 

Tepua stamped her foot in anger. Suddenly she remembered a servingwoman her father often called for his pleasure. The arrangement had seemed so natural that she had never asked herself how the woman felt about it.
So now I must see life from the other side
...
 

“Do not fret, slender one,” said Hard-mallet. “I know the headman's tastes. He likes women who eat well. You are pretty, but not ...” She held her hands out to suggest a bulk that Tepua did not possess.
 

“Then I will stay the way I am.”

A brief grin lit up Hard-mallet's broad face. “We have talked enough for now. Come. Join us. We chant to the hammer's sound as we work, and the time passes pleasantly.”
 

In this way, Tepua was introduced to the first of her duties. She learned later that she was also expected to help prepare the women's meals, keep the houses and grounds tidy, and tend vegetable gardens that lay outside the fence.
 

Only in the evenings did she have time to spend with her young pupil. Then Tepua would take Small-foot into a corner of the women's house while a drummer sat just outside. They would practice the simplest hip movements until the girl yawned and begged for sleep.
 

During the first few days in the headman's household, Tepua saw Rimapoa several times, but always from a distance. He would gaze over the fence, call to her, and wave mournfully. Tepua always waved back with more enthusiasm than she felt.
 

She had promised to go to him, yet a reason always came to hold her back. It was true that she wanted to see both Hoihoi and the fisherman. But if she went to him when he was alone, he would surely think she had come for
hanihani
. As much as she liked him, she was not ready for that. Each day she found some excuse not to leave.
 

She consoled herself with Hard-mallet's growing friendship. Often they worked side by side. When their turn came to uncover the women's fire pit and take out the cooked food, Tepua taught her a chant of celebration from her own island.
 

 

Oho! Taku manu e pekepeke
 

Taku manu e peke
...
 

 

Hard-mallet gamely tried to repeat it, though she stumbled over the sounds that were strange to her. Tepua encouraged her to keep going, laughing and clapping as they chanted together. “I will make you into a coral islander,” Tepua promised.' 'And then I will not feel so far from home.”
 

Just as she was getting used to her new routine, a sudden flurry of activity within the compound drove all stray thoughts from her mind. A visitor was coming—a nobleman she had heard about—the brother of the high chief. Starting at dawn, everyone worked to get ready.
 

The women shook dust from the sleeping and sitting mats, brought in fresh
aretu
grass to cover the floors, and rehearsed dances for the entertainment. The menservants gathered foodstuffs and piled firewood beside their huge earth oven. The pigs and chickens were herded into bamboo enclosures so they would not be underfoot.