Baptism of Fire (14 page)

There was no need to call the fowls. The moment they heard the grater in action they raced for the fence, practically throwing themselves against it in their greedy haste. It pleased Hannah that there were two at the mission house who were not neat, polite and well-trained, who bumped each other, squawked rudely and argued over their food with no regard for manners. Hannah scattered the grated coconut evenly so that both fowls would get a fair share. Esmerelda tended to take over. Dubious, at first, about assigning names to potential roasts, Hannah had eventually given in to pressure from Deborah and the two fowls became known as Esmerelda and Virginia.

Today there was a pleasant atmosphere around the house. Everyone had slowed down. In this climate it was better to pace yourself, otherwise the heat and humidity sapped your energy. You could rush if you chose, but then you would
collapse—as Hannah knew only too well. Aunt Constance had been right: she felt much better after a sound sleep.

She turned her head as a burst of laughter erupted from behind her. Even if she had heard the exchange that prompted it, she would not understand the joke, so she didn't ask for an interpretation. The men worked slowly, but they were cheerful, willing, and the new cookhouse was taking shape.

Reverend Flower, a former carpenter like his Lord and Master, had begun by trying to give orders about the construction but everyone ignored him. Being of a complacent nature, he was soon reconciled to having his advice spurned and quietly went about the business of erecting frames to support the thatch.

Two men were seated, cross-legged, on the ground a little distance from the noisy construction. One man tracked through the other's hair with his fingers, inspecting his scalp closely. ‘Aaah!' Between thumb and forefinger, he pinched out a speck which was invisible to onlookers, promptly popped it in his mouth and swallowed.

Hannah uttered a distinctly unladylike sound, then jumped as a voice at her side simply said, ‘Lice.'

Joshua didn't look at his cousin, but stared at the rain gauge in front of him. He whistled as he ran a finger along the waterline. ‘Look how much we had last night!'

Hannah was not surprised. The downpour had echoed in her ears as she fell asleep and was still beating down when she woke hours later. It had not eased until breakfast time. As a result, there were several damp patches on the calico which lined the thatch in her room, and the air was thick with humidity. Steam rose from the saturated earth as the hot sun took back the moisture. Her job finished, Hannah brushed her hands on her apron to remove clinging shreds of moist coconut.

Joshua took an extraordinary amount of time to write down two numbers in the book. Sliding a glance at his cousin, he spoke her name, a new look of admiration and a tinge of wistfulness in his eyes. ‘Where did you go yesterday? You were away for hours. All day, almost.'

It appeared that Uncle Henry had kept his own
counsel about the details. Let it remain that way. She shrugged Merelita-style. ‘Here and there,' was all she said before turning on her heel.

‘Wait!'

Hannah stopped and looked at her cousin with surprise. He frowned, his lips working without sound.

‘What is it, Joshua?' she asked as gently as possible.

‘I … I'm to go away.' His expression of displeasure deepened to a scowl.

‘What do you mean?'

Joshua sat abruptly, the recording book clasped to his knees. ‘There was a letter from Matthew, my brother, yesterday. He said that he's well and learning a lot and the boarding school is good … all the things that my parents would want to hear, not the real things … Mother and Father had a long talk last night. I heard them.'

Hannah had missed that news. She had read her letter three times, blew out what little remained of the candle, turned onto her right side and did not move until the dawn chorus woke her.

‘I wasn't trying to listen, but I couldn't sleep and
their voices carried. Father wants to send me to New Zealand too, to finish my education.'

Joshua was a positive imp at times, but life on the island would be bleak without him, and she felt her spirits sink. What could she say to ease his distress? If her uncle and aunt had made up their minds, there was nothing to be done. But Hannah understood the sense of panic that travelling alone to a strange country could produce. She sat beside him. ‘You might like it, Joshua. There will be others your age, not forgetting your own brother. It's a chance to see different places, and other people. You can't stay on this island all your life and never see anything else.'

‘Why not? The villagers do.'

‘But how do you know they don't long for an opportunity to see what lies over the water?' She laced her fingers together. ‘Oh, Joshua, I do understand how you feel. I'll never forget the moment I stepped on board the ketch. As I lifted my foot I knew that I had left the country of my birth behind, maybe forever. It's only one step from what you know to what you don't.' She squeezed his arm. ‘But you might really enjoy it. It
could be tremendous fun.'

‘Do you really think so?'

‘Of course, I do.' If she had doubts, it would have been cruel to air them. Joshua was anxious enough.

She found her aunt and uncle at the front of the mission house. At a discreet distance from the baby's memorial site, Uncle Henry sat in a chair with calico cloth tied around his neck. His wife stood behind him with a large pair of scissors in her right hand. Moving slowly, she snipped at a tuft of hair, then stepped back to check her efforts. Progress was tedious, but Aunt Constance was determined to accomplish her task thoroughly.

‘Where is Luata this morning?' asked Uncle Henry. ‘She should be here by now.'

One hand on her hip, the other waving the scissors, Aunt Constance sighed. ‘Please don't talk, Mr Stanton. When you do, your ears wriggle.'

Obviously the preservation of both ears was important to him. He obeyed with such alacrity that Hannah wondered whether he had met with misfortune on similar occasions. Snippets of hair dropped onto Uncle Henry's face, the calico
drape, then onto the ground where the breeze danced with them before scudding them across the grass and out of reach.

Deborah lolled about on the grass, chatting to Charlie doll. Nervously Hannah wondered if there would be any negative reaction from her uncle to the doll's new features. The one good eye, weathered eyebrows and patchy lips had been replaced by two sea-blue eyes, brown lashes, arched eyebrows and crimson lips. There could be no more doubt over Charlie's gender. He was definitely a girl with his freshly painted, feminine face. All Hannah had to do now was to remember to say ‘
she
' not ‘
he
'.

‘Watch out for Mother's feet, dear,' Aunt Constance addressed her daughter in dulcet tones, ‘otherwise, if you knock me, I may cut a hole in Father's ear.'

Father did not appear impressed with this piece of wisdom.

Predictably late, but not so predictably incensed, Merelita stormed into view, gabbling in Fijian. Uncle Henry's relaxed mood vanished as he sat upright, forgetful of the danger. He, too,
spoke in Fijian, but there was no mistaking his reproof. Aunt Constance sighed and lowered her scissors. It was the only time Hannah had seen any suggestion of impatience in her aunt's manner. Hannah suspected that Uncle Henry, who was active almost to the point of obsession, would not often submit to sitting still, and one side of his hair was still much longer than the other. Aunt Constance had not finished with him.

Merelita's words flew around her as she scooped up the escaping strands of Uncle Henry's hair, the wind carrying much of it beyond reach.

One emergency often gave birth to another. They never came on their own: always in twos and, some people insisted, in threes. As if in response to Merelita's intense emotion, loud cries echoed through the trees, and everyone stopped to listen, even Merelita. Her eyes widened. Then came the
lalis
beating out a message. Uncle Henry tore at the drape that protected his clothing and stood up. ‘The men are back.'

Chanting, mixed with shouts, began. It was not at all like the previous chants when the men were
preparing for war. Was the fighting over so quickly? Quietly, Aunt Constance picked up the protective cloth and shook it free of hair. Haircutting was over for today.

Reverend Flower strode around the corner, rolling down his sleeves, followed by Timothy. Uncle Henry and Reverend Flower exchanged glances then departed for the village, with Timothy in tow.

The good-natured laughter from the builders ceased. Suddenly the atmosphere had changed, become sombre, just as though dark thunder clouds had rolled across a sunny sky. Merelita disappeared inside the house with a small pile of Uncle Henry's hair in her hands. Hannah followed.

Carefully the Fijian girl threaded the hair into the thatch of an inside wall.

‘Merelita, what's happening down in the village? Are the warriors back?'

She didn't reply, but continued hiding the strands of hair.

Hannah tried again. ‘Shall we go down and see?'

‘
No
! You stay.'

‘But …'

‘
Cousin Hannah
!'

Hannah almost thumped Joshua. He always sneaked up on her, then spoke when he was right at her elbow. It was enough to frighten the wits out of her. The nervous, uncertain look that he had previously worn had vanished and in its place was a gleam of devilish speculation.

‘They bring back those enemies who were unlucky enough to get caught,' he said, ‘but they don't keep captives …
bokola
, Cousin. Remember?'

It was hateful being shut inside. Aunt Constance had practically sealed off the entire house. Hannah ran a finger around the uncomfortably high collar of her blouse and considered changing it for another. Her neck was damp with perspiration.

‘Joshua! Must you make that irritating noise?'

He looked at the quill pen in his right hand, surprised. ‘I'm sorry, Hannah.'

Fleetingly, she felt guilty. Joshua wore a look of genuine contrition. This time he had not goaded her on purpose. But even so, the continual tap, tap had scratched at her nerves, making her want to scream. If Joshua actually had ink on the nib, it would have spattered everywhere.

The sound of singing drifted from Deborah's bedroom. Aunt Constance had a sweet voice, but Deborah was taking a while to settle for her nap. Merelita had refused to return to the village, but wouldn't sit with Hannah and
Joshua inside the mission house. She was out in the partially reconstructed cookhouse preparing a meal, which Hannah hoped would be vegetables.

Ashamed of herself for the dreadful thought that came to her, yet incapable of stemming it, Hannah wondered about Merelita's past, before she
lotu'd
. And what about Luata, Beni, and the others she had come to think of so fondly? Mentally, she chastised herself. The past had gone. Let it rest in peace.

Giving up all pretence that she was actually writing, Hannah looked across at her cousin. He too was not concentrating, but simply stared at the closed curtain, his mind elsewhere.

Without preamble, she whispered, ‘Have you ever seen the villagers actually …?'

‘No.'

‘Uncle Henry and Reverend Flower have been gone for ages.'

‘Mmm.'

‘Do you think they'll stop them?'

Joshua shrugged. ‘It's hard to say. Sometimes the Chief listens, sometimes he doesn't. It might
depend on what Father offers him in exchange for his mercy.'

Hannah chewed her lip, then glared at the page in front of her. What was intended to be a letter to Jenkins had stopped at the date. She couldn't think of anything to write. It was unthinkable to put ‘
As I am writing this the villagers are eating a neighbouring tribe
'.

Joshua lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. ‘In the village where Reverend Flower lives, the Chief counts how many bodies he has eaten by placing stones in a line along the village square. At the last count, there were 872.'

‘That's impossible!'

The boy merely shrugged, his face showing that he didn't care whether she believed him or not. ‘Ask him when he returns. Reverend Flower was almost eaten when he first arrived.'

‘
No
!'

‘One of the villagers was feeling his calf muscles, which are quite large. Did you notice?'

She couldn't say that she had. The Reverend's legs had no special attraction for her.

‘It seems a villager was clicking his tongue,
which means he approved, and making comments about how tasty the leg would be. The Reverend saved himself by taking out his false teeth and holding them up for everyone to see.' Joshua's eyes lit up. ‘They all thought he was a god because he was able to extract his own teeth then replace them. They never touched him again. And the man who wanted to eat him
lotu'd
.'

‘Does everyone …?'

Joshua rested his chin on one hand then shook his head. ‘Only some. Fijians believe that several of their gods live in plants or animals, and they are not allowed to eat that thing. So if your god lived in humans, you wouldn't be allowed to eat them. Some won't touch turtles or sharks. If a man ate a tabu'd food in front of a person who has that god, they might try to strangle him because he showed disrespect.'

Hannah recalled the night of the
meke
. All kinds of cooked foods had been taken from the heated rocks of the underground oven. It was only a small step to picture things that she would rather not.

‘My father may convince Ratu Rabete, but he's
been gone a long time … At least the captives are not from a wrecked ship. Shipwreck victims have “salt in their eyes”. They're a “gift from the gods”.'

Hannah's stomach flipped. She imagined being cast into the ocean during a storm, clinging to a piece of wreckage, tossed about by huge waves, and finally being washed ashore only to find a mass of natives, dinner forks at the ready, waiting to grab their gift from God!

‘Why do they eat
bokola
with forks and not fingers?'

Joshua frowned. ‘I've heard that it gives off a glow and, if you touch it with your fingers or lips, they'll shine in the dark. The villagers are frightened, so they use the long forks.'

‘Is that true?'

‘Maybe. I don't know. And there are certain places near the village where people won't walk at night. A man said some bones whistled to him.'

For the first time Hannah began to understand why Uncle Henry was determined to bring what he called ‘civilisation' to Fiji. And yet, there were still contradictions she couldn't understand. While he talked about being ‘civilised', he also
preached a savage message himself. In church, and again last night in the mission house, Uncle Henry had outlined the punishment the Almighty would mete out to unrepentant sinners. Her uncle had spoken of bodies being roasted in the ovens of hell. And didn't the Devil have a special fork? She'd seen a picture somewhere … And the suffering in that place would never end. It went on forever.