Sister of the Sun (6 page)

Now Paruru's thoughts turned in a new direction. The crew seemed incapable of defending their
vaka
, and it seemed a prize well worth taking. Its remarkable sails alone would astonish everyone who saw them. He could not imagine what other wonders the craft held. Yet all would be lost if it struck the reef.
 

With a yell the
kaito-nui
ordered an intercept course and urged his paddlers to stroke harder. "Steer away!" he shouted at the foreign boat while he gestured at the breakers.
 

At last the stranger shoved on his oar handle and his craft swung around, heeling so far over that it nearly capsized. The mainsail swung to the wrong side and began to flap and then backfill. The boat slowed, drifting broadside to the wind.
 

At their leader's command, men at the bows of their canoes tossed loops of sennit cord over the invading vessel's stem post. Bending to their paddles, the islanders struggled to tbw the doomed boat off before it could hit the reef. But the backfilling wind in the huge sheets made the task impossible.
 

"Cut down your sails!" Paruru's shout was hoarse. He knew the order was extreme, for much time and effort went into lashing sails to masts and booms. But unless the stranger sacrificed his rigging, he would lose the boat.
 

Paruru was not sure if the foreign sailor grasped his meaning. The warrior slapped the side of his canoe with impatience while he watched the other's slow movements, his hands manipulating something at the bottom of his mast. Suddenly the mainsail slid down in a tumble of cloth. More fumbling at a line freed the two foresails, which flapped out to the side like banners.
 

Paruru gasped in surprise. These strangers had a way of dropping sail that he had never seen before. He had no time to puzzle over this wonder, for he was busy giving orders to his men.
 

At last the paddlers began to make headway, towing the ungainly craft away from the churning breakers. With voices lifted in a paddling chant, the men drove their blades deep.
 

The tide was starting to turn now, Paruru noticed as he looked toward the pass. Soon a strong current would be flowing out from the lagoon, a current that his men could not fight. The strange craft must be brought home now or abandoned.
 

"What is your wish,
kaito-nui
!" called the masters of the other canoes.
 

Paruru had not forgotten that unseen dangers might lurk on the foreign craft. His task was to protect his people. If he towed the vessel far to sea, and set it adrift, he would be taking the safest course.
 

But he recalled what he knew of the moving islands that had been seen elsewhere. A few had stopped, sending out men who offered trade—astonishing gifts in exchange for coconuts and vegetable greens. If this craft came from the same place, there might be similar treasure within its hull. What a prize to bring his new chief!
 

He gazed once more at the remarkable vessel. Perhaps the gods had sent it for his benefit so that Tepua would recognize that her
kaito-nui
was a man of courage. If he let the strange craft slip away, then he would have only words to bring her....
 

Paruru could delay no longer. He shouted the order to tow the boat into the lagoon. The paddles began again, closing the short distance to the pass.
 

The lead canoes halted just at the entrance to the channel. Backing water, they waited for a powerful wave to gather. Paruru heard a hoarse cry and looked at the foreigner in the boat. The outsider's face showed alarm as he gestured with one finger at the surging water. Paruru laughed. Had this man never before entered a pass?
 

"The wave comes," he bellowed to the towing canoes. "Ahead!"

Stroking powerfully, the men drove through the channel on the wave crest, dragging their load behind them. Paruru ordered his own canoe to follow. The rush of boiling surf just beneath the bow, and the jagged coral on the sides of the pass, made his heart beat faster. He might mock the foreigner's fear, but a part of him understood it.
 

There was always a risk of the unexpected here—a canoe upset or dragged against the reef, a paddler washed overboard, his head smashed or his limbs broken against the rocks. Perhaps, as Tepua had told him, there
was
an evil spirit dwelling in the channel....
 

But this time the ocean's surge carried all the vessels safely through, into the calm of the lagoon. Once out of danger, the outsider craned his head about, his expression as rapt as a child's. The warrior had seen this before—visitors, particularly high-islanders, gaping at the azure waters and the graceful sweep of coconut palms against the sky.
 

The foreign boat now glided easily behind the canoes. Paruru noticed that the arrival of his odd flotilla was already attracting attention. Several
vaka
were approaching from the far side of the lagoon. On shore he saw children running, and heard their shrill shouts as they tried to keep pace with the canoes.
 

Paruru's boat took the lead, and he headed for an anchorage that lay close to the residence of the chief. Now he stood downwind of the foreign craft. Cautiously he inhaled its scents.
 

At sea, the briny wind had overwhelmed all else. Here, the smells wafting from the boat were strong—urine, excrement, and the rotting-pork stink of sick and unwashed bodies. He caught fainter scents that reminded him of tree sap. The familiar odors of a
pahi
were lacking—the dry tang of sennit, the fishy odor of nets and tackle, the aroma of sweet coconut oil from the bodies of one's canoe mates.
 

He noticed the boat starting to drift, blown by the onshore breeze toward the shallows. "Throw out your anchor stone," Paruru called to the sailor, miming the action of lifting something and tossing it overboard.
 

Evidently the foreigner understood, but the stone was too heavy for him. Grunting and sweating as he knelt in the bottom of the boat, he finally managed to haul up a huge black fishhook with four prongs. It was attached to a strange line made of many interlinked little pieces. With a clank and rattle that sounded like a cascade of pebbles falling, the anchor descended to the bottom.
 

The clattering rope grew tight and the boat ceased its shoreward drift. Some of Paruru's men pounded their thighs with approval and amusement. The foreigner was not a total fool. He knew how to drop an anchor stone.
 

"Drinking nuts!" Paruru demanded, remembering the stranger's signs of thirst. He took a
viavia
that was passed to him from the supply carried beneath the thwarts. Ordering his canoe closer, he tossed the partly husked nut to the eager hands. The stranger brought out a bright blade that flashed sun into Pamru's eyes. Instead of peeling away the bit of green husk that covered the nut's mouth, he began hacking and stabbing at the middle, as if trying to wound an enemy.
 

Paruru heard whispers from the men behind him.

"He does not know how to drink from the
viavia
."
 

"He must come from far away. Even our infants know how."

It took several shouts to turn the foreigner's attention from his futile efforts. Finally the ravaged face looked up. The
kaito-nui
held aloft a second drinking nut and showed how to poke open the small mouth at its end. Paruru lifted the nut and drank.
 

Clumsily the stranger followed suit, making too large an opening and dribbling half the contents down his chin. Astounded at the man's ineptitude, Paruru tossed him several more coconuts. On his second try, the outsider did better, but began to gulp with a frenzy that alarmed the
kaito-nui
. Paruru had seen starved men kill themselves by swallowing more than their shriveled stomachs could bear. He shouted a warning.
 

To his surprise, the sailor did not drain the second nut but instead bent to the bottom of the boat. Beneath the tumbled sail lay another man, like himself in appearance except for the dark color of his hair. Cradling the head of his companion in his arm, the stranger poured coconut water on the dry and cracked lips. Paruru watched as a man who seemed dead gradually regained life.
 

At once he felt a mixture of approval and concern. This stranger was not as stupid as he had first seemed. He knew enough not to sicken himself after his privation. And he was generous enough to help his weaker comrade.
 

But the presence of a second recovering foreigner, and possibly a third, worried Paruru. How would he deal with these men?

As he pondered the question he grew aware of voices in the distance and the splash of approaching paddles. He turned and saw canoes coming from every direction. On shore, men and women were gathering in a large crowd.
 

"Stay back!" he ordered, and told his warriors to pass the word along. "No one may board!" He glanced at the onlookers in the shallows—men with sweaty faces, women holding naked babies, girls decked out in sunshades of coconut fronds. He was not sure he could control their curiosity.
 

"Summon the high priest," he bellowed toward one of his men ashore. Then he called a swift canoe and gave another order—to find Tepua, who had gone to visit Paruru's sister Heka, and bring her back at once.
 

Tepua would be pleased with this prize, he thought. No other chief had ever captured such a vessel. Yet Paruru felt uneasy as he watched the bright-haired man reviving his third companion. He wished, not for the first time, that Kohekapu had kept his strength awhile longer.
 

His daughter, lovely as she was, did not possess the wisdom of a chief. Worst of all, she had spent too much time in Tahiti, where men were soft and women lazy. A strong will was needed now. A great chief would know how to use this gift that the gods had sent.
 

 

 

 

FOUR

 

As the sun rose toward noon Tepua sat with Heka, Paruru's sister and chief of Piho Clan. The women relaxed on mats laid out under a stand of palms by the lagoon. Within calling distance servants stood ready to bring food or drink. For now, the women were content just to talk.
 

Heka and most of her clan lived on their own long, slender islet far from the reef's pass. After the frenzy of activities surrounding her assumption of the chiefhood, Tepua had come to this quieter part of the atoll for a few days of rest. Her decorated
pahi
now stood high on the beach, while her paddlers lolled in the shade.
 

Tepua felt no hurry to return to her own clan. She had come to relax, but also to ask advice. "I am just starting to learn what people expect of me now," Tepua said. "Sometimes I am surprised."
 

Heka smiled. She was a tall and well-made woman, with broad cheekbones and sparkling eyes. Her sizable figure and deep voice commanded respect, yet Tepua knew that she had a gentle side as well. "Perhaps I can help you, Tepua-ariki," Heka replied.
 

Tepua sighed as she recalled how a clan chief called White-stick had brought her a problem immediately after she had assumed her duties. "White-stick wanted to discuss his disagreement with Varoa Clan," she explained. "He took me to walk over his lands so I could see where the boundary was disputed. But then I started to ask questions and his mood changed. He turned from worrying about who owns which
fara
tree to complaining about fishing. He seemed to forget about the boundary."
 

"That is an old argument he troubled you with. His father could not settle it with Varoa. White-stick will leave it to his son."
 

"Then I think he does not truly want an end to it."

"Now you are showing the wisdom of a chief, Tepua," answered Heka. "If White-stick settles the argument, then what will he have to grumble about?"
 

Tepua smiled, then picked up the pierced coconut beside her and took a long drink. Gazing out over the placid water, she saw an oncoming canoe in the distance. The men were paddling hard. She wondered vaguely if this was a race, with one boat far ahead of the others.
 

As she watched with mild interest Tepua tried to imagine what was happening at home. The people of her clan had promised to build her a house near Kohekapu's; by now it should be done. When she went back, she would have to resume the role they had forced on her. But it still seemed impossible.
 

Tepua squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She missed the friends she had left behind in Tahiti. How long would it be until the priests and elders consented to let her go? What would it take to convince them that Umia should assume the chiefhood? She knew she could not ask Heka for advice on these questions. Heka had been in the forefront of those urging Tepua to take the office.
 

Now, in this quiet spot, Tepua heard voices sounding faintly across the water. She opened her eyes and glanced out at the oncoming canoe, a sleek and speedy
vaka.
The bodies of the paddlers glistened with sweat. If they were racing, she wondered, where were their opponents?
 

Suddenly Heka stood up. "I think there is trouble," she warned. A young man leaped from the boat, swam a few strokes, then stood up and splashed his way ashore.
 

"
Maeva ariki
!" the young man managed, though he was still short of breath from his paddling. Tepua recognized him, Sea-snake, one of Paruru's ablest warriors.
 

"What is wrong?" she asked uneasily. Sea-snake's words came out in a rush. Tepua held up her hand to stop him, then turned to Heka.
 

"You go with them," advised Piho's chief. "I will send your
pahi
to follow." Waving the servants aside, Tepua waded into the shallow water.