In Solitary (10 page)

Another silence, then a spitting sound and an ugly word. I heard a female voice say, ‘I am too young.’

Perplexed, I turned to the woman.

‘Do you know what is happening in
there?’ I asked.

She nodded but declined to tell me the secret, turning back to the hut. Sounds of an animal trapped in undergrowth then.

There was a yell and then Tangiia came out of the hut with a grim expression on his face. He was dragging a small girl, plump as a pigeon, by both her wrists. As soon as he let go of her she tried to rake his chest with her nails. Desperately he grabbed at the wrists, missing one of them. The girl screamed abuse at him and flailed him with her free hand about the head and ears. Finally, after some minutes had elapsed, she fell sobbing to her knees. Tangiia still held her and he lifted her up gently in his arms, carrying her towards the path.

‘Well?’ I asked him as he passed. He did not even look at me and I tagged on behind the trio of Polynesians, all sharing a secret which was denied me. I felt an outsider.

Tangiia did not, as he promised, take the fat woman with us. He pushed her away roughly as she tried to climb into the already overcrowded canoe. She protested, and so did I, but we could all see that it would be an impossible journey with all four of us. I felt he was quite wrong to have promised her anything in the first place – but I had to admit to him later that she did have her own canoe and had she been desperate to follow us she could have set out in that while our sail was still in sight. At least the girl Peloa was calm at last and I tended the tiller, looking at the stars, the sea, anywhere except at the two lovers who caressed each other beneath my precious palm leaves.

Fishing with a line has a magical quality about it that is difficult to describe. It is a man’s physical connection with the unknown, an extension of him reaching into another, a supernatural, world in which the environment is hostile to his body. Mystery and horror lurked in the depths.

I sat in the bows of the canoe with the taut line between my fingers trying to imagine what was going on beneath the surface and waiting for the jerk that would set my heart racing with excitement. Tiptihani was completely managing our tiller – I was inclined to think that she was even more skilful than Tangiia, who was about a hundred metres to starboard.

Tiptihani was Peloa’s mother but she had given birth
to Peloa when she was still very young and was now a mature but extremely handsome woman: a square but feminine jawline was held high, and a beautiful skin shone golden in the sunlight. I studied her hair that was too heavy to be lifted by the light breeze which carried us along. It was thick and black, and it fell to her waist eclipsing the tanned breasts that were still high and firm. We had called at Tiptihani’s island on the insistence of Peloa and had persuaded the girl’s mother to accompany us to Tangiia’s home. It was her canoe that carried me and my line across the placid surface of the sea.

‘Why do you stare at me?’ she asked, turning slowly so that the eclipse was over for one of the orbs.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my eyes riveted in spite of her obvious discomfort. ‘I was just dreaming – thinking about something. It’s very pleasant just to lie here in the sun and dream.’

She nodded. ‘It’s pleasant to dream – so long as dreams are not too …’

‘Ambitious?’ I finished for her. She was warning me off.

Suddenly the line almost cut my fingers off and I gave a yell of excitement and pain that turned the heads of Peloa and Tangiia. Tangiia smiled when he saw me feverishly pulling in the line, and waved.

It was a reddish-coloured fish with a hard bony mouth that I finally landed flapping in the Satawal. It disappointed me. I had expected it to be much larger, judging by the strength of the pull. But it was still a fish – and I had caught it. I dangled it proudly before Tiptihani.

‘Pretty good eh? I didn’t realize I was so skilful at this sort of thing.’

Tiptihani smiled. ‘Sea is full of fish and they are always hungry.’

A bit crestfallen I said, ‘Yes, I suppose it’s not such a brilliant feat – still, it means we can eat,’ I added with a little more heart in the words.

I took out a knife, slit the fish open and began slicing slivers of raw flesh from it. These I put on chunks of coconut and handed them one at a time to Tiptihani, at the same time popping one or two into my own mouth. They
were quite tasty, but then one’s taste varies with the circumstances.

A few weeks ago, when we had all the cooked pork we could eat, I would not have looked twice at raw fish. It is not only hunger that makes one appreciate such simple dishes: it is also the state of one’s body and mind. I was beginning to feel strong. Sailing over a sun-hammered ocean for week upon week had forged my body into, a hardness that would not have seemed possible while I was living amongst the Soal. I was no longer a frail, pallid creature full of indecision. My body was brown, wiry and in a constant state of exhilaration. The white salt found creases that had not been there before the trip – creases that had formed at the lower contours of knotted muscles. I moved with the sureness and swiftness necessary to control a small boat. Tangiia was not always softly spoken and kindly – at moments when the canoe needed two competent pairs of hands he bawled orders that had to be obeyed accurately and quickly, otherwise stinging remarks about my origins followed rapidly behind. The crowning indignity was when he pushed me roughly out of the way and did the job himself. I don’t think I ever wished for anything in my life as much as I wanted praise from Tangiia after one of those flurries when we gybed or came about to avoid a hidden reef. When it finally came I felt as a hawk must feel the first time he makes a stoop and kills. No one was as full of pride as I was.

Tiptihani?’ I questioned the silent woman, ‘Why was Peloa so upset when Tangiia first found her? Has he hurt her in some way?’

Tiptihani smiled wryly.

‘My daughter is having child,’ she answered. ‘It is probably my fault that she dislikes this idea. I never wanted child so young, especially girl. I wanted excitement and adventure and baby needs constant attention. As girl child grows older it needs protecting from men. If girl is too young at mating it can do her harm.’ She paused and looked out across the water.

‘I suppose I often grumbled about this to Peloa when she was small and it has given her set views.’

‘I see,’ I replied, and considered this fact – that one person might impress another with his or her opinions. This was why Stella and I were so incompatible. Her former lifestyle
was so different from my own. Not a very brilliant deduction but then I had only just learned to think for myself.

It was as I was thinking to myself that I saw a fish break water a long way off, and then return to the deeps. A porpoise? What exactly was it that I had seen? I asked myself. A flash? Porpoises do not usually flash silver. They are brown-backed and slide serpentine when they surface. Besides, the flash that had caught my eyes was brilliant – like the flashing of a mirror. Or glass. Something highly polished.

It hit me then.

‘Tiptihani,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to alarm you but we’re being followed by a Soal craft.’

It was the wrong thing to have said. Her face immediately registered fright.

‘Don’t tell the others,’ I warned. ‘Peloa will only panic and in their small boat it could be disastrous. Especially since she’s pregnant.’

This had the right effect and the woman nodded with a slightly calmer expression.

‘Can we do anything?’

‘Nothing. We’ll just have to wait for them to make the first move.’

We were not approached by those that were
following us and I began to wonder whether my assumption had been correct. Perhaps the flash I had seen
had
been a fish? But the thought was nagging me that we had not seen a single Soal craft while we had been on the ocean and I realized that if the Soal were pursuing us under water they would probably warn all other Soal vehicles away in order that they might continue to follow us and discover the purpose for an unlawful gathering of humans.

After her initial show of fear Tiptihani remained cool and we spoke to each other of our plight only when her daughter and Tangiia were out of earshot.

‘If you’re right Cave,’ she said to me on the third day afterwards, ‘when do you think they will come for us?’

‘I wish I knew,’ I replied. ‘As we get closer to Tangiia’s island we had better decide where to land. We don’t want Stella and the others in the same trouble.’

She saw the obvious logic in this and realized that, however free we were at the moment, there was to be no escape for us. The Soal would eventually rise to the surface and arrest us. It was a dismal prospect but it was one we had to face.

About noon that day we saw a strange sight to the west. It was a cloud, so low that it touched the surface of the sea. I turned in the canoe and narrowed my eyes, trying to find some definition in the shape.

‘What’s that?’ I pointed towards the cloud and even as I was doing so it seemed to expand along the whole horizon, rolling like a high wave along the surface of the sea.

Tiptihani shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Shall I call to Tangiia?’

But Tangiia had already seen it himself and he was
looking as puzzled as we were. Inspecting it closer I could see dark patches running through the cloud as it swept over the water towards us.

‘Perhaps we can lose the Soal inside there, whatever it is?’ said Tiptihani hopefully.

‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ I replied. ‘They’re using non-visual means to keep us under surveillance. The cloud will make no difference.’

‘What?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘We can’t avoid them, that’s all.’

By this time the cloud was almost upon us and I could hear thunder in the distance. Tangiia shouted something, standing up in his canoe, and then we were swallowed by the cloud.

Within seconds we were soaking wet and covered in grime. It was warm inside the cloud and I realized what it was – steam mixed with dust and ash. We did have a chance, I thought, because though the Soal could surface in the cloud, they would not be able to leave their vehicle unless they had thermosuits with them. It was not normal to carry thermosuits on routine patrol. They could still follow us of course, but only
one
of us. The other boat could escape.

I deliberately turned the Satawal to windward and towards the source of the steam and soot. Tiptihani watched the action with some apprehension.

‘Cave?’ she said in a frightened voice.

The Soal can only follow one of us,’ I explained. ‘If it’s our boat, well then we’ve still got a chance if we can get to the place where this vapour is coming from. I don’t know about you but the only explanation I can think of is a volcano …’

She confirmed my thoughts.

‘Yes, they won’t come too near an eruption – but what if there’re two of them? Or even more?’

‘We haven’t got a lot of choice have we? If Weyym’s kind to us there won’t be any Soal at all, but I’m afraid my faith hasn’t been all it should be lately.’

Black flecks were settling and sticking to our wet skins. Occasionally it was a hot piece and sharp spots of pain kept me cursing and attentive to my task. Having to beat to
windward was a time-consuming activity – but then we had all the time we needed. The Soal were certainly not going to surface in the steam and ash.

We kept up our tacking for about an hour at the end of which I was running with rivulets of grime, and there was still no sign of the source of the activity, though we could hear the explosions and the sizzling of hot rock touching water. It only occurred to me when we were obviously close to the place where the earth was disgorging its viscous bile that we might be in danger. At any moment a heave from the belly of the world might end our lives.

Feeling my way carefully, I lowered the sail and allowed the canoe to drift. We could hear the fall of surf to port now but it was difficult to tell if the noise was a reef or some other natural musician. Whatever it was I had no desire to slam into it at full speed.

Suddenly we were out of the steam cloud and back into bright sunlight. There was still a lot of dust in the air but we had come out to the far side of the island that owned the volcano. It was still spitting and coughing up its igneous coke but the volcano itself was in the centre of the island and its strength was beginning to flag and the ash was not now reaching the shoreline.

There were fires everywhere and at first I thought it might be a completely new island: then I saw patches of green amongst the black and realized that what had once been jungle was now buried beneath layers of new rock. We paddled around the lagoon after skipping over the reef and found a spot on the beach that was protected by an overhanging rock. I ran the canoe onto this spot and we tumbled out to lie on the cinder-flecked sand by a charred stump that not long ago had been a tree. Smouldering, it jutted aggressively from the ground like a master torturer’s favourite toy.

‘Well, we’re here,’ I said. ‘Still alive and kicking.’

I turned to look at the Polynesian woman as she rolled over on her back. A half-dead fruit bat lay amongst the debris not far from her. It was flapping a holed wing in its agony so I climbed to my feet, stepped gingerly over the warm ash and trod on it quickly. Weyym knows how many other poor creatures were suffering a similar fate on
the island – or were already dead.

As I passed by Tiptihani again, she took hold of my ankle and on gaining my attention pointed out to sea. Coming around the corner of the reef, obviously searching for the moving craft that had disappeared from the viewer, was a half visible Soal craft. It dived beneath the waves a second later having seen the canoe and we were left in no doubt as to our position. We stayed where we were because there was nowhere else to run to, and we let the day move rapidly into sunset without moving – one of the most bloody-eyed dusks I have ever witnessed, and soon the only light was that of the torch that flamed from the cone behind us.