The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel) (14 page)

22

Makah Nation, West Coast, North America, 1841

T
rue to his word, Nathan set out to see Tagaq before the next full moon. The two weeks since he’d last seen her had seemed like a year. Tagaq’s naked body occupied his thoughts from dawn till dusk, and his nights were filled with dreams of their lovemaking. He could feel himself hardening at the thought of her.

Even though he ran the four miles to the valley where Tagaq and her banished family lived, it seemed to take an eternity. He was breathing hard as he reached the top of the bluff that overlooked the valley that was home to the family of outcasts.

Nathan stopped to catch his breath. All seemed quiet in the valley below. There was no sign of Tagaq or any of her siblings. Smoke curled from the hole cut in the roof of the tiny family lodge, indicating someone was home at least.

Avoiding the temptation to run, Nathan walked down the hill toward the lodge. As he neared it, the sound of women wailing greeted him.
Something’s wrong!
He started running toward the dwelling.

Before he reached the lodge, Tagaq’s father, Kenojuak, emerged. His grim face told Nathan something was definitely wrong.

The old warrior stepped forward and, in the manner of the Makah, clasped Nathan’s left shoulder with his right hand. “I see you, Nathan Johnson.” He had to speak loudly to be heard above the sound of wailing.

“And I see you, Kenojuak,” Nathan replied.

“You have come to be with Tagaq?”

Nathan nodded.

“She awaits you inside.” Kenojuak stepped aside and allowed Nathan to enter.

Nathan had to stoop so his head cleared the top of the doorway as he entered the lodge. As his eyes adjusted to it
s gloomy, smoky interior, he saw Kenojuak’s two wives and their younger children. They were sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. The women ceased wailing as soon as they saw their visitor.

At first Natha
n didn’t see the object lying at the feet of the two women. When he did see it, it took a few seconds for him to work out the object was a lifeless woman.
Tagaq?
She was unrecognizable. The flesh and eyes had been torn from her face.

A
s his eyes ran down her body, Nathan realized he was looking at Tagaq, or what was left of her. “Tagaq!” he screamed. Nathan fell to his knees alongside her. He stroked her hair as he repeated her name over and over.
Where is your face? What have they done to you?
He couldn’t make sense of anything.

The young white suddenly had to get away. He pushed himself to his feet and drunkenly lunged for the doorway, cracking his skull against it as he stumbled out into the fresh air.

Kenojuak had been waiting for him. As soon as he saw Nathan, he came toward him. Nathan didn’t even see him; he ran into the surrounding trees and didn’t stop running until exhaustion halted him in his tracks.

#

Kenojuak was still waiting for Nathan outside his humble lodge when Nathan finally returned. He walked up to the young man as soon as he saw him. The two faced each other in stony silence for a long time.

Since the
shock of seeing Tagaq, or what was left of her, had passed, Nathan had had time to think. He realized she must have been attacked by a wild animal. “Was it a puma?” he asked at length.

Kenojuak shook his head. “Black bear.”

“When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. She was collecting herbs.” The warrior pointed in the direction of the cave that Nathan and his lover had so often frequented.
“Up there.”

“Where will she be buried?”

Kenojuak shrugged. “I have not yet decided.”

“I have a place in mind.”

“Show me.”

Nathan led Tagaq’s father off toward the cave.

#

Later that day, Nathan looked on as Kenojuak and his family laid Tagaq to rest in the cave the two lovers had come to know so well. Wrapped i
n the rug they’d so often made love on, Tagaq was gently lowered into a shallow grave before Nathan joined the family members in shoveling freshly dug earth over her.

That
done, they filed somberly from the cave. Nathan helped Kenojuak roll a large rock over the cave entrance so the gravesite would forever remain undiscovered and animals couldn’t disturb the body.

Kenojuak’s wives
resumed chanting and wailing as they led the young children back to the lodge, leaving the two men standing outside the cave’s concealed entrance.

“I must go now,” Nathan said. He needed to be alone.

“I know.”

“I will not see you again, Kenojuak.”

“I know that also, Nathan Johnson.” Kenojuak grasped Nathan by the shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “Take this blessing with you.”

So blessed, Nathan turned and walked away.

“There is something you should know,” Kenojuak called out.

Nathan turned back to face the older man.

Kenojuak smiled for the first time that day. “She was going to tell you she would be your woman and would go with you to the distant lands of the White-Eye.”

The words hung in the air between them. Nathan’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard.

It slowly dawned on Nathan that Tagaq knew he was going to flee Neah Bay, and she’d loved him so much she wanted to go with him. The realization saddened him. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Kenojuak.” With that, Nathan turned and walked away. He never looked back.

23

Gulf
of Guinea, 1848

M
instrel’s
crew knew they were under attack for the approaching brigantine had made no effort to answer the semaphore messages second mate Sven Svenson had been flashing non-stop for some time now. Nor did she bear a visible name on her hull or a flag of origin on her mast – sure signs the vessel’s crew had bad intentions.

“Give up, Mr Svenson,” first mate Fred Paxton advised him. “They have no intention of responding.”

Svenson lowered the flags he’d been waving above his head, picked up the musket he’d left at his feet and took up his allotted firing position alongside Drake Senior atop a bulkhead. The two men studied the fast-approaching brigantine as she closed with
Minstrel
.

“She means business,” Drake Senior observed as he nervously checked his pistol.

“Aye, that she does,” the second mate agreed. The Swede studied his companion, trying to reconcile the man of God he knew the reverend to be with the gunman lying next to him.

Drake Senior could read his companion’s mind.
The good Lord helps those who help themselves.
He smiled to himself.

Further along the deck, beyond Svenson, the clergyman saw Harold Simpson
familiarizing himself with the musket someone had handed him. It was very evident by the clumsy way he handled it he’d never even held one before. Drake Senior whispered a silent prayer for the missionary.

The
approaching brigantine was now only fifty yards away. She was on a collision course with
Minstrel
and looked set to ram her mid-ships.

“She’s gonna ram us!” someone
shouted unnecessarily, for it was obvious to all.

Now they could see the crew of the other craft. Around thirty strong, they were a cut-throat bunch armed with a variety of weapons ranging from swords and daggers to axes and lances, but mercifully not a firearm in sight.

“We have superior firepower,” Svenson murmured to himself.

Drake Senior could see
the pirates appeared to be of indeterminate nationality. Predominantly light-skinned, their features were a mix of African, European and possibly Asian. In fact, they were a mix of all these and more. They were the last remnants of the feared Barbary Coast pirates – the privateers who operated out of North Africa and who, since the Sixteenth Century,  had struck fear in the hearts of voyageurs throughout the Mediterranean and down West Africa’s Atlantic seaboard and beyond.

“No-one shoots until I give the word,” Kemp reminded everyone.

Too late. A very nervous Simpson fired his musket at the enemy craft. The shot went wide.

“I said no-one shoots till I say so!” the former colonel repeated. Kemp was exerting the authority the first mate had given him now that conflict was imminent. This gave Drake Senior and the others some confidence: Kemp was
clearly no stranger to conflict.

The men
could only watch as the bow of the other vessel rammed into
Minstrel’s
side. There was an awful cracking of timbers followed by the sounds of women’s screams from below.

“Fire!” Kemp shouted.

A dozen musket shots rang out almost in unison accompanied by small arms fire. Drake Senior saw five pirates fall in the first volley. He was pretty sure he’d shot one of them. Certainly, the pirate he’d aimed at had been struck down. The clergyman didn’t realized it, but the pirate he thought he’d shot was the pirates’ leader. This would be fortuitous for the men aboard
Minstrel
for, although outnumbered, they were now fighting a leaderless enemy.

The pirates threw grappling irons over
Minstrel’s
near rail, to secure the two brigantines together, then began swarming aboard, swinging their cutlasses at anything that moved. Fierce fighters, they found themselves seriously disadvantaged in the face of firearms. Four more were felled by musket and small arms fire. Nevertheless, they had some success. Three of
Minstrel’s
defenders including the steward’s assistant, a lad of only eighteen, were killed.

“Stay together!” Kemp shouted. Having positioned the men close together so they could cover each other’s backs, he was anxious they not become separated.

In the saloon below deck, the women and children huddled together fearfully listening to the sounds of battle raging above. Using tables and chairs, they’d barricaded themselves in, in case the pirates prevailed and came looking for them. Many were crying.

Hiding her own fear, Susannah led the women in prayer. The other women took strength from this. K
nowing she was the clergyman’s daughter, and a determined young lady to boot, the others automatically turned to her for comfort. Susannah recited the Lord’s Prayer with all the confidence she could muster, all the while hoping her father survived the violence on deck.

On the bulkhead above deck, as he furiously reloaded his pistol, Drake Senior noted Captain Mathers was giving a good account of himself despite hi
s hung-over state. Armed with pistol and sword, the captain shot one pirate then dispatched another with a blade through the chest.

The rotund German cook Hans Schmidt
was also proving an asset. Schmidt shot one pirate then, wielding a cutlass, despatched two more overboard. They were quickly taken by the sharks that were now circling the two brigantines. More sharks arrived and a feeding frenzy quickly developed.

Much of the gu
nfire was wayward as many of
Minstrel’s
men were using their weapons in anger for the first time. Some however – like Kemp, Mathers and Schmidt – were no strangers to violence and were making their presence felt. For every defender struck down, two or three pirates fell.

Three pirates came at Drake Senior and Svenson. The clergyman shot one between the eyes; the second mate shot the other at point-blank range. The third pirate, a fearsome character with a sword in each hand, advanced on them before either man could reload. With one thrust of the
sword in his right hand he ran the blade through Svenson’s chest, mortally wounding him, and with his other sword he slashed Drake Senior diagonally across the abdomen. The wound went deep, gravely wounding the clergyman who was catapulted backwards onto the deck. He landed heavily and lay there groaning.

The pirate turned his attention back to the second mate who was raising his musket, club-like, for one final act before departing this world. Before Svenson could bring the musket down, the pirate decapitated him with a single slash of the sword he’d just used against Drake Senior.

Svenson’s head rolled along the deck. The sight of it galvanized the surviving defenders into action. Led impressively by Kemp, they fought with a fury most never knew they possessed.

Simpson was one
of a number who both distinguished himself and surprised himself at the same time. After priming and firing his musket twice more and failing to find his target even once, the missionary threw the weapon aside, picked up a fallen cutlass and quickly despatched two pirates over the side. He’d collected a minor head wound for his trouble, but so far was otherwise unharmed.

Gradually, the tide turned and the surviving pirates were forced to back-peddle. One by one, they leapt the short distance
back to their own brigantine. As soon as the grappling irons had been disengaged, a dozen pirates manned the oars and began rowing away from
Minstrel
as fast as they could.

On board
Minstrel
, Kemp directed musket-fire at the departing craft. He had the satisfaction of seeing two more pirates struck down before they were out of range. One was the fellow who had struck down Drake Senior and Svenson.

Throughout all this
Drake Senior lay unmoving where he’d fallen.

Below deck, as the sounds of conflict faded, Susannah and the other women hurriedly removed the makeshift bar
ricade they’d set up. Wives, partners and children were desperate to find our how their menfolk had fared. Through the port holes, they’d seen the pirates’ brigantine rowing away and heard the defenders cheering, so realized their menfolk had prevailed.

Not so sure of the outcome was
Irishman John Donovan who had concealed himself in the hold at the first sign of trouble. Hidden amongst water barrels, he couldn’t be sure the defenders had prevailed so he chose to remain concealed for the moment.

Susannah led
the women topside while two of the single women stayed below to look after the children. No-one wanted the young ones to be exposed to the aftermath of the violence that had occurred above deck.

As Susannah
emerged into the sunlight, the first sight that greeted her was the still form of her father lying in a pool of blood on the deck. She cried, “Papa!”