The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel) (34 page)

As she approached, Susannah studied the villagers. Like all Fijians, the adults were impressive in stature. Tall and heavily muscled, most wore traditional grass skirts and little else. Those related to Iremaia, or who had royal bloodlines, wore tapa, or bark cloth robes and shawls or capes made from the bark of the mulberry tree. The cloth was decorated with symbols in charcoal black and ochre red. Headmen wore robes and turbans made of the same material. The warriors were never without their traditional weapons. Many of the men were tattooed. Susannah deduced they’d make fearsome enemies.

The children ran about naked while the teenage boys and girls wore similar grass skirts to the adults. Susannah was surprised to see even the teenagers were tattooed. She noticed the tattoos had strong sexual connotations—pornographic even. The lewd artwork made her blush.

Entering the village, every child in the immediate vicinity gathered around her, vying for her attention. Susannah was immediately enchanted by their unrestrained joy and welcoming smiles. The children ran excitedly alongside the beautiful white woman, their ranks swelling with every passing moment.

Looking around her, Susannah noticed the children’s enthusiasm for her presence didn’t appear to be matched by the men, who seemed to be glaring at her. She suddenly found her way barred by several strapping warriors. They made it clear that as a vulagi, or foreigner, she wasn’t welcome here. Mystified, she turned to go when Iremaia’s first wife, Akanisi, who was effectively the Queen of the village, appeared at her side.

Speaking in her native tongue, the old woman berated the warriors, saying, “Let her pass, she is speaking for the new god and is here to help us.”

The warriors hesitated then stood aside to allow Akanisi to lead Susannah through. Akanisi led her by the hand into the midst of the gathering. As they pushed through to the front ranks, Susannah saw the villagers were indeed preparing for a ceremony. An old man was addressing the assembled. Susannah turned to Akanisi for an explanation.

“
High priest bless this place for new meeting house,” Akanisi whispered in halting English. The old woman told Susannah the corner posts for the meeting house were about to be erected. She wanted to explain that this act had great significance in Fijian society and always warranted a ceremony such as this, but could not express that in English. Instead, she pointed to four large kauri posts that lay on the ground close to the area that had been staked out to accommodate the new structure.

Susannah noted the posts were in fact trees that had been stripped of their bark and branches and cut to equal length. She estimated each one must be fifty feet long. The chanting intensified.

As women began wailing, Susannah noticed Nathan among the onlookers. He’d already spotted her and nodded in her direction.

Susannah quickly averted her eyes, hoping he wasn’t aware she’d seen him. It seemed whatever she did these days, the American was always there, as if trying to tempt her.

Nathan, who had been escorted to the ceremony by Iremaia, smiled to himself. He knew Susannah had seen him.

The two vulagi looked on as four naked warriors stepped out from the villagers’
ranks. The warriors held themselves proudly as they allowed friends and family members to lead them to deep postholes that had been dug to accommodate the posts. The warriors were then lowered one at a time into the holes until they disappeared from view.

Susannah looked to Akanisi again for an explanation of what was happening.

“Our warriors receive great honor,” Akanisi said gravely. Struggling to find the right words, she lapsed into her native tongue. “They have been chosen to support the corner posts to keep them straight,” she explained.

Susannah was pleasantly surprised to find she could at least partially understand Fijian as spoken by a native. Her study of the language was beginning to pay off. However, she was so gripped by the drama unfolding in front of her she didn’t even acknowledge what Akanisi was saying.

As villagers lowered the posts down into the same holes the warriors now occupied, the realization of what was about to happen suddenly struck Susannah. She left Akanisi’s side and pushed her way through the onlookers to look down into the nearest hole where she saw the warrior who occupied it was standing a good ten feet beneath her. All she could see of him was the top of his frizzy hair; his arms were wrapped around the pole, as if to hold it straight. There was barely room for him and the pole.

To Susannah’s horror, chanting villagers began shoveling dirt down on top of the warrior until he was concealed. “Dear God, no!” she cried. Until she was finally pushed aside, Susannah noted the doomed warrior appeared to accept his fate calmly. The same routine was repeated at the other three postholes. Unable to watch the macabre spectacle any more, Susannah turned away.

Sensing the young woman’s discomfort, Akanisi hurried to her side. She could see Susannah was shaking like a leaf. “What wrong?” Akanisi asked in English. “That is ancient custom.” Reverting to her native tongue, she added, “It is a great honor for a warrior to be a sacrifice.”

Susannah shook her head. It was too much for her to take in. Later, she would learn such human sacrifices were common throughout the archipelago and, indeed, throughout the Pacific Islands. Here, it was deemed an honor for a warrior to be chosen to be buried alive supporting the corner posts of a meeting house or any other sacred structure. Such an unselfish gesture ensured the warrior would be rewarded in the Afterlife he believed awaited him in the Spirit Land.

The chanting and wailing had now reached fever pitch. Susannah felt like her head was going to explode. Witnessing these human sacrifices was making her question for a moment just what she’d gotten herself in to. She was aware she shouldn’t judge what she couldn’t fully understand, but she instinctively knew such disregard for the sanctity of human life was heathen in the extreme.

Susannah suddenly wanted to be with her father back in the
safety
of the mission station. She turned and began pushing her way through the crowd. Behind her, Akanisi watched, mystified, as the young woman fled.

Breaking free of the crowd, Susannah began running. She only managed a few steps before she collapsed onto all fours, sobbing.

What have I got myself into, Lord?

Finally, recovering her composure, she slowly pushed herself to her feet and began trudging toward home.
Home.
This place didn’t feel like home to her.

As she walked, Susannah became aware she was being followed. Before she even turned around, she knew who it was.

“So now you see these people are animals.”

Nathan’s words stopped her in her tracks. Susannah slowly turned around to face him. A hundred different responses swirled about in her head, but when she did respond, it was
from the heart. “No. What I see is a people in need of our assistance.” Nathan smirked. At that moment, Susannah hated him. “Is everything a joke to you, Mr. Johnson?”

“Not at all.
It’s just that life is cheap to these savages.” Nathan paused for a moment. Looking at Susannah, he couldn’t help thinking she looked more radiant than ever. At the same time, he became aware he was getting some kind of perverse enjoyment seeing her angry and emotional like this. “Having just witnessed what you have, doesn’t it make you question why you are here?”

Susannah shook her head angrily. He’d touched a nerve, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “To the contrary, it gives me even more determination to enlighten these peoples in the ways of God. Christianity is the light.” Nathan was about to respond when the feisty Englishwoman cut him off. “You are a deceitful man, Mr. Johnson. I’ve been watching how you interact with these people. You treat them like your friends, but secretly you despise them. Your only god is money, and you will sell your soul to the devil in order to get it.”

With that, Susannah turned her back on Nathan and continued on her way.

The American didn’t know why, and he certainly didn’t show it, but deep down he was cut by her words. He quickly shook his head in disbelief, as if to shake off the affect her words had on him.

Why do I care what a naive young missionary thinks?

Nathan watched Susannah until she reached the mission station where her father was waiting for her. Drake Senior had been watching them for a while. He looked straight at the young American. Nathan noted there was no friendly wave, not even a nod of acknowledgment.

When the Drakes disappeared inside their cottage, Nathan turned and strode back toward the village where he would continue to ingratiate himself with the Qopa. And why not? After all, big riches awaited him.

8

A
s the day drew to a close at Momi Bay, Nathan wandered around the village observing the Qopa preparing their evening meals. Aware he was a guest of their ratu, the villagers greeted him with smiles. Their greetings were genuine. Word had already spread that the vulagi was bringing muskets to their village.

Nathan forced himself to respond in friendly fashion to the villagers. He viewed this pre-trading time simply as a charade he had to endure.

The American flinched involuntarily as he watched two young men barbecuing a large leatherback turtle over an open fire. Writhing and hissing futilely, the turtle struggled until it finally succumbed to the heat. Nearby, family members roasted a pig in a lovo, an underground oven comprised of heated stones. Nathan noticed an old man tending the pig was using a large bone that looked suspiciously like a human femur.

Nearby, teenage boys expertly split coconut shells on the sharpened end of a stake in the ground. Their mother rebuked them, slapping the oldest on his bare back when some of the milk spilled out of the shells.

Looking around, Nathan observed armed lookouts patrolling the village perimeters. Above them, rain clouds threatened, reminding him the wet season was approaching. Again, he studied the strange structure that sat atop four high poles near the meeting house and wondered what it contained that was so valuable it needed guarding around the clock. A new guard paced up and down in front of it, spear in hand.

Glancing at the nearby mission station, Nathan’s thoughts strayed to Susannah. Apart from a flickering light that shone from the mission house windows, the station was already in darkness. He wondered how Susannah and her father were passing their time and what they’d be talking about.

Iremaia suddenly appeared in the open doorway of his large bure. Seeing Nathan, he beckoned to him to join him. Nathan hurried over and followed the old ratu inside. There, he found a cooking fire crackling in the center of the gloomy, smoke-filled bure. Its flames lit up the faces of Iremaia’s clan, who included his four wives and an assortment of relatives of all ages.

The unwelcoming Joeli was among them. Akanisi, the ratu’s first wife and mother of Joeli, supervised two slave girls who were tending the fire. There was so much laughter and chatter nobody could hear
themselves speak. Nathan was greeted with welcoming smiles from all except Joeli. It was almost as if the ratu’s son sensed the true intentions that lay behind Nathan’s ready smile. The American worried that Joeli was going to be an obstacle to his forthcoming trade.

Looking around, Nathan saw that, even here, there was evidence of past conflicts. Several shrunken heads hung from the thatched roof and traditional weapons of various descriptions lay scattered around.

Iremaia motioned to Nathan to sit next to him. Sitting down, he noted the dirt floor was covered in mats woven from pandanus leaves. Marveling at their beautiful colors, he would learn later the effect was achieved by burying the leaves in mud and laboriously boiling them with other plants. Parrot feathers lined the outsides, adding to the colorful effect.

Generous helpings of steaming hot yams, sweet potatoes, and shellfish were carried in by slaves from the lovo outside. Diced raw fish was added and coconut cream was poured over the food, adding to its tantalizing appearance and aroma.

Selaima, a fetching slave girl who looked about sixteen but was in fact twenty, served the food in wooden bowls carved from the timber of some of the numerous varieties of trees that flourished in the region. She served Iremaia first, then Nathan, smiling openly at him as she did so.

After dinner, the men drank kava while Selaima and several other girls entertained them by performing a meke, or traditional dance. Wearing only grass skirts, their nubile bodies gleamed in the firelight as they danced to the beat of a hollowed-out log that served as a drum. The accompaniment was provided by two men who, using the palms of their
hands, expertly pounded out an ancient rhythm.

Nathan watched, entranced, as the smiling dancers performed. Glancing at his companions, he saw they, too, were entranced. To a man, they appeared to have eyes only for Selaima. Studying the slave girl, he could understand why: she was very easy on the eye—especially while performing an erotic dance as she was now.

The American was beginning to feel the effects of the kava he’d been drinking. He’d forced himself to partake of the vile liquid in order not to offend Iremaia. Already his lips were numb and his brain felt like it was going the same way.

The rain that threatened earlier arrived with a vengeance as it only can in the tropics. It beat a steady tattoo on the bure’s roof, threatening to drown out the sound of drumming. The drummers responded by intensifying their efforts and the dancing became frenetic as the dancers tried to keep pace.

Watching the semi-naked girls dancing, Nathan’s thoughts strayed to Susannah and he wondered what her naked form looked like.

# 

At the mission station less than a quarter of a mile away, the Drakes were about to start on the first course of their first-ever dinner in the surprisingly comfortable dining room of their cottage. Susannah placed a bowl of soup on the table in front of her father then sat down opposite him. A Bible lay open between them. Father and daughter closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

Drake Senior prayed, “Lord God, we thank thee for this sustenance. We thank thee
also for delivering us safely to Momi Bay and pray that we may find many converts among our Fijian brothers and sisters whose souls we have come to save.”

Together, they said, “Amen.”

Drake Senior smiled at his daughter and they proceeded to drink their soup.

Over the course of the meal, the reverend told his daughter of his long-term goal of converting the more uncivilized Fijians in Viti Levu’s unexplored interior.

Susannah had immediate misgivings. She interrupted her father, saying, “But Nathan . . .” Drake Senior looked sternly at his daughter. Susannah quickly corrected herself. “Ah . . .Mr. Johnson tells me the tribes of the interior are still cannibals.”

Drake Senior studied his daughter carefully for a moment, before nodding. “What Mr. Johnson says is true. Not that he knows much about anything. He is the devil’s instrument, that man.” The reverend looked intensely into Susannah’s eyes as if to drive home his point.

“Yes, I know, Papa.”

Drake Senior then went on to lay out his ambitious plans for eventually converting the whole of Viti Levu by working in with other missionaries. “There is safety in numbers,” he reminded Susannah, “and in the Christians’ armor.” He patted the open Bible in front of him to emphasize his point.

What he didn’t say was that Susannah did not feature in his plans to spread the gospel to the warlike tribes of the interior. While he was prepared to accept the risks involved, he had no intention of placing his daughter in harm’s way. He would leave her to continue the good work the mission was doing at Momi Bay. But his plans for the interior would have to wait. There was much to do here first.

As he spoke, Drake Senior thought he had Susannah’s undivided attention. He wasn’t to know her mind was on other things. At that very moment, she was wondering what Nathan was doing.

Outside, the rain momentarily eased. The pair finished their soup in silence. The only sound other than the clink of spoons on soup bowls was the distant thunder of waves crashing on the offshore reef.

In the sudden stillness of night, the sound seemed magnified. Then the rain returned harder than before, drowning out the sound of the waves.

After bidding her father goodnight, Susannah retired to her bedroom. By the light of a candle, she read a few passages of her Bible before kneeling in prayer to thank God for delivering her and her father safely to Momi Bay. She then blew the candle out and climbed into bed.

Lying there in the darkness, her mind whirled with all the events of the day. She recalled the pornographic tattoos she’d seen on the young Qopa men at the sacrificial ceremony. Susannah tried to block the images from her mind, but they wouldn’t go away. Soon, she was imagining herself in the sexual positions of some of the women featured in those tattoos.

As she finally slipped into unconsciousness, the sexual fantasies took on a life of their own. She dreamed she was alone in a bure with a man. It was dark so his identity was a mystery to her. He was slowly disrobing her; she was becoming impatient and urging him on. His hands greedily devoured her breasts and then explored the rest of her body.

Finally, he lay on top of her. As he prepared to enter her, Susannah saw the man’s face.

It’s Nathan!

Susannah woke with a gasp. She discovered her hand was on her vagina, which was deliciously wet with desire. Feelings of guilt were accompanied by relief that she’d only been dreaming and was still a virgin. She immediately began to pray to God that he would give her the strength to resist the temptation of having sex before marriage.

Though she believed in the power of prayer, Susannah knew she was in danger of being overwhelmed by the intensity of her sexual fantasies. Her forbidden desires were like demons she couldn’t exorcize, no matter how many biblical versus she recited. They kept coming like waves in an ocean.

#
 

By the flickering light of a fire stick protruding from one interior
wall, Nathan took in his new surroundings. He was standing in a small bure on the village outskirts. Moments earlier, one of Iremaia’s servants had escorted him to it and, before departing, had indicated this was where he was to spend the night. At a glance, he could see it consisted of one bare room. An unused cooking pot rested in front of a makeshift fireplace. Worn pandanus mats only partly covered the dirt floor, leaving exposed areas muddy on the rare occasions it rained—as was the case this night.

Two old, worn blankets folded on a mat by the near wall indicated that was where he’d be sleeping. The blankets looked out of place. They were obviously the result of some long-forgotten trade.

Nathan removed the pistol he carried in his belt. It had been concealed by his shirt, which he wore over his trousers. Then, slipping out of his wet clothes, he picked up one of the blankets and used it to dry himself down. Naked, he doused the flame on the end of the fire stick, lay down on the mat, and pulled the other blanket over him. Even without a pillow, it was surprisingly comfortable.

Staring up into the darkness, listening to the driving rain, Nathan began to fantasize about Susannah. He felt his manhood harden as he imagined himself caressing her shapely body. He drifted off, dreaming he was having his way with the beautiful young missionary.

#

Nathan awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. He was sure a woman had just been
kissing him. Looking around, he saw that he was alone. The rain had eased and moonlight was now shining through gaps in the clouds, piercing the darkness and lighting the bure’s interior.

Aware he’d been dreaming, he lay back down and replayed the dream in his mind, trying to determine who it was who had been kissing him. Susannah’s beautiful face filled his mind. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of her again.