Climate of Change (55 page)

But thereafter she put the shirt back on, and they rejoined the main camp. George reported to the Governor, and had Rebel say a few words: “George. Rebel. Governor Phillip.”

The Governor smiled, pleased by the progress. The native girl was being educated. “Carry on,” he told George. That meant that George was supposed to keep doing whatever he had been doing. It seemed he needed such an order, to continue.

They carried on. Now they were allowed to depart the colony site, so she could show George the best scenic places to sketch. Naturally
when they were suitably isolated she gave him sex again. Once a man got it from a woman, he craved more of it, and she intended to see that she was always protected by this man. She pretended delight in his prowess, though it was hardly special. His art was in sketching pictures; hers was in boosting the male ego.

She learned more about him. He was an upper-class youth—she wasn't clear on the concept of classes, but it seemed some were better than others—who wanted to be an artist, but was obliged to serve a tour as a low officer on a ship first. It seemed to be the English form of initiation. Fortunately for him, the Governor liked his sketches and encouraged them as a record of their accomplishments.

But why had he been assigned the chore of teaching her? For she knew it had been a chore, though he was now more than willing to pursue it. It turned out that officers were supposed to supervise rather than actually work, but he was not an effective supervisor. So the Governor needed to find some other work for him, and Rebel was it. As long as she behaved and showed improvement, she would remain his assignment. He hoped, blushing, she would continue.

Oh, she would, though it was now clear that if she chose to depart, George would not hinder her. He wanted her to be pleased with him, even if it meant losing her. If she remained a captive, Harbinger would be free to marry Haven and have a child. So it was a solution to her problem.

But, he protested, in time he would return to England. She would not want to go there.

No? She was increasingly curious about that island, and she couldn't return to Harbinger, as that would make her effort here pointless. Yet George was firm on this point: she would not like England. She would be a Freak there, a Savage, a Spectacle.

But suppose she married him?

That set him back. He loved her, but he couldn't marry her. His family would never allow it.

She dropped the matter. There was too much she did not yet understand.

So it continued for several more days, as the colony got built and
the convicts settled into the routine. Rebel now had a fair vocabulary, but the way the words were put together was more of a challenge, and some of the background concepts, such as Class and Money were more difficult yet. But these challenges meant that she still required George's full attention. She gave him sex often, and was beginning to enjoy it herself, as she got to know and like him better. He was so very, very appreciative!

She learned that the Governor wanted her to become a liaison with her people, able to translate between the two languages. She was increasingly competent to do that. But what did the Governor want of her people? The two groups had little in common.

Then one day as she went alone to the lavatory trench, Bub sprang out and grabbed her. He had been lurking, waiting to catch her alone. He clapped a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming. That was his mistake.

She bit the hand, hard. He let go, cursing. “God Damn!” They were not supposed to speak the name of their deity in a bad manner; that was why it was a curse.

Then he threw her to the ground. He drew a knife and menaced her with it. If she screamed or fought, he would kill her.

She did neither. Instead she scrambled to her feet and fled. Bub pursued. He was about to catch her, when he grunted and fell.

She turned. There was Hero, with a club. He had knocked Bub on the head, hard, and he was dead.

“I knew you were watching,” she said.

“You left your anklet. So I checked. You seemed to be handling it, in your fashion.”

“Yes. Harbinger should marry Haven, and get a child.”

He nodded. “It is your choice.”

Then another man appeared. Hero whirled, lifting his club.

“No!” Rebel cried. “That's George!”

“The man you're handling,” he agreed. Of course he had seen their trysts too.

“He's nice. I'm learning their language. I'm hardly a captive anymore.”

Then George came up. “What's this?” he demanded.

“This is my brother, Hero,” Rebel said in his language. “Bub tried to rape me, so Hero killed him. Does this mean I must flee?”

George paused, assessing the situation. “Do you want to flee?”

“No.”

“Then let's call it self-defense, or defense of you, a pardonable offense. The man was scum; the colony is better off without him. But your brother should disappear; he must remain unknown. And you must get away from here, quickly, so no one knows you were involved.”

Rebel translated quickly for Hero. He nodded and faded into the brush. Then Rebel returned quietly to the main camp. George returned separately.

Soon thereafter the body was discovered by another convict. He raised a Hue and Cry, and many people came to see. They realized that a native, a Savage, must have done it. No one was very much grieved; Bub had not been popular.

Neither George nor Rebel said anything. The matter had been dealt with. But she gave him extra-special sex at the first opportunity thereafter.

Unfortunately that matter was not over. Soon the colonists realized that if one of their number could be killed by a native, others could follow. They did not realize that Bub had brought it on himself by trying to rape Rebel. They thought it was the beginning of a campaign against them. And neither Rebel nor George dared to set them straight, lest they bring suspicion on themselves.

Too soon it happened anyway. “That hussy Savage!” a women said. “She's one of them!”

“And George is keeping her company,” a man agreed. “He's a savage-lover!”

Before long word reached the Governor. They were summoned to appear before him. “What do you know of this?” he demanded of George.

Rebel could have lied to the man. But George was young and innocent, and he feared the Governor. “Nothing,” he said insincerely.

The Governor considered briefly. “You're a good man with the
illustrations. I don't want to lose you. But I shall have to, if it turns out that you had anything to do with this. Anything at all.”

George quailed visibly.

“So I shall address the woman,” the Governor continued after a meaningful pause. “You, Rebel—you understand me well enough, don't you?”

She had to answer. “Yes, Governor.”

“One of your countrymen did this thing.”

If she lied, he would have it out of George instead. The Governor knew she understood that. “Yes.”

“Why? Is it an attack?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

He surely had already fathomed the answer. She had to tell. She knew she did not have perfect syntax, but she could put the words in place. “Man—Bub—try sex me. Me brother kill he.”

The Governor nodded. “He was watching you. You are an attractive woman. He got what he deserved. But I am not in a position to publicize that. A man of my colony has been killed, and that cannot be countenanced.”

Rebel looked blank. There were too many unfamiliar words.

The Governor glanced at George. George spoke, clarifying it by using words he knew she understood. “He know. But he leader. He must avenge dead tribe man.”

Oh. That did make sense. Tribe came before all else. “Yes,” she agreed, fearing what it meant.

The Governor almost smiled. “I want no war on my hands. We have other things to accomplish. Go tell your people to vacate the premises and not to harass us further. Rejoin your tribe; there is no place for you here, after this episode, much as I regret the loss of a potential translator.”

George had to translate again. “Tell Family go away. You go too. No return.”

“But I don't want to leave you!” she protested. It was not that she loved him, but he represented her best chance to do what she needed
to do, and she did like him well enough, and was sure she could make him happy.

The Governor spoke to George. “I surely misheard. It can't be that she has any attachment to you, or you to her. She should be glad to return to her people.”

Rebel suffered a flash of further understanding. The Governor knew how things were between them, and didn't like it. He wanted to get rid of her so that his illustrator would not be distracted. This was how.

Would George stand up to the Governor? If he did, she would stay with him, come what might. But she feared he would not.

She was right. “She. . . wants to be a translator,” George said. “To learn more words. She can't do that if she leaves.”

“Unfortunately that is no longer feasible. She must go. You will surely be grateful to be relieved of this chore, so you can return your full attention to your illustrations.”

“Uh, yes,” George agreed weakly.

He was simply not man enough to stand up for himself, even to secure the woman he loved. She had no choice but to do as the Governor wanted. That, at least, would leave George clear of this mess.

“I go,” she agreed. She drew off her shirt, as it was really not hers, and stood bare-breasted. She was going native. Then she turned and walked away from them.

The men of the colony stared, but the governor snapped a warning that anchored them in place. All they could do was look. She made no effort to moderate her stride to reduce the bouncing of her breasts. Let them know what they were losing.

George made no protest. He
really
understood what he was losing.

When she was safely in the forest, Hero joined her. “They don't like their man getting killed,” she explained. “But they will leave us alone if we go away and leave
them
alone.”

“We can do that,” he agreed. He knew, as she did, that they were nomadic. Traveling was their nature. Not only would it not be difficult to leave this hunting ground, it was natural. “But what of Harbinger?”

She sighed. “He is stuck with me a while longer.”

“He will not be displeased.”

Then they both laughed. It was not an ideal resolution, but it would have to do.

The colony near Botany Bay suffered lean times, as the terrain was not suitable for conventional farming despite an early report. Their cattle and sheep soon died. Their food had to be rationed. But they endured, and more convicts arrived year by year. Yes, there was an illustrator who was a midshipman named George, and the governor was Phillip.

There was indeed some trouble with the Aborigines, and a man was killed, though perhaps not for the reason described here. They also had trouble getting the convicts to work, as they were hardly motivated. The women had nothing to do, and existed at first in complete idleness. Somehow their clothing had been left behind, so they had to make do with substitutes. I doubt they were pleased. But in time the colony took hold and expanded. The natives were pushed back, and suffered grievously from the white man's diseases of smallpox, measles, and others. Their numbers were decimated. Their stone-age culture could not compete with modern organization and weapons.

The new nation continent of Australia was coming into being.

Times were hard for the Xhosa in the nineteenth century. They joined with their former enemies the Kat River Khoikhoi to rebel against the British. But in 1853 the British rallied and defeated the rebellion. In 1854 a disease spread through the Xhosa cattle, the “lung sickness,” and they suspected it had started with cattle owned by European Settlers, or that it was caused by
ubuthi,
or witchcraft. Either way, they wanted to be rid of the oppressive foreign presence.