The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel) (2 page)

1

West Coast,
North America, 1838

S
ixteen-year-old Nathan Johnson was standing at the bow of
Intrepid
, staring down at the sea’s foaming surface as the three-masted ship plowed through the chilly waters off the coast of Oregon Country, the remote Northwest American territory that would one day be known as Washington State.

True to his word, the young Philadelphi
an had run away from home and from his violent father as soon as he was old enough. Strictly speaking he didn’t exactly flee his home. Johnson Senior had sent him away to boarding school when he turned twelve. After just three weeks, Nathan had dropped out of school and secured a job as a cabin boy on one of the ships that plied its trade delivering supplies to new settlements up and down America’s east coast, and he’d been at sea ever since. He’d never contacted his father and he never intended to.

Nathan’s breath was visible in the cool autumn air, prompting him to button up the fur-lined jacket he wore. He looked up hoping to sight the shoreline he knew was only a few miles to starboard, but
fog limited visibility to less than one hundred yards. Not even his keen blue eyes could pierce the blanket of gray that surrounded the vessel.

The young m
an stifled a yawn. He’d just finished working a double shift and knew he should be catching up on sleep, but he didn’t want to miss out on his first glimpse of Oregon Country.

“This fog will clear soon,” a gruff voice announced.
The voice belonged to
Intrepid’s
master, Captain Herbert Dawson, who also happened to be Nathan’s uncle.

Nathan spun around.  He hadn’
t realized he had company. “Yes Captain…ah…Uncle.”

The young man’s hesitation
amused Dawson. Nathan was never quite sure how to address his late mother’s older brother. The rule was it was
Captain
in front of the crewmen and
Uncle
in private. “You’ve completed your duties I take it?” Dawson asked.

“Yes
sir.”

“Good man.”
Dawson had a sudden coughing fit. He was battling a bout of influenza, as were a number of others on board. The coughing passed – for the moment at least – and the two stood in companionable silence staring out into the mist.

Nathan didn’t know it, but his uncle looked on him as the son he’d never had.
He reminded Dawson of his sister Charlotte – not physically so much as he’d inherited Johnson Senior’s rugged good looks – but certainly in temperament. The boy was calm and unflappable, taking whatever life threw at him in his stride. Studying him now, he couldn’t help thinking Charlotte would be proud of her son. Nathan was growing into a fine young man and possessed an assurance that reminded Dawson of himself at that age.

Uncle and nephew had been together aboard
Intrepid
since they’d literally bumped into each other in San Francisco two years earlier. Dawson had been recruiting crewmembers for a trading expedition to southern Africa, and Nathan had pleaded with him to sign him on. The captain had agreed, but only on condition that he combined scholastic studies with his on-board duties to make up for his lost schooling. Nathan had readily agreed to that and, true to his word, continued his studies while carrying out his duties on board.

In the
past two years, Nathan had learned the basics of sail-making, rigging, steering and, most recently, navigating. In the process, he’d earned the respect of his uncle and his crewmates alike. There were no two ways about it: he was shaping up to be a fine seaman.

Another coughing fit
saw Dawson excuse himself, leaving Nathan alone once more.

No sooner had Dawson retired below deck than an excited shout came from the crow’s nest atop the forward mast.
“Land to starboard!” the lookout shouted.

Nathan looked to starboard again. The fog was parting and the snow-flecked mountains of Oregon Country could be seen in the distance. Along the tree-lined shore, the colorful autumn leaves of alder and oak trees contrasted with the evergreen fir trees so prevalent in this region, providing a spectacular display of yellows, reds and greens of all shades.

The young Philadelphian felt a surge of excitement. This was only his second voyage to the Northwest and his first to Oregon Country. His first experience of the Northwest had come a year earlier when
Intrepid
visited Nootka Sound, on Vancouver Island. There, they’d traded with the Mowachahts, a warlike native tribe with a history of conflict with visiting whites. On his uncle’s orders, Nathan hadn’t gone ashore at Nootka Sound. Just as well maybe as a crewmember had been killed and another badly wounded during a trade that went wrong. It was only later Nathan learned the violence had been prompted by the rape of an Indian maiden by one of the visiting sailors – a not uncommon occurrence.

This time,
Intrepid’s
crew were here to trade muskets with another tribe, the Makah, for their valuable sea otter fur. Nathan knew from his studies the Makah were every bit as warlike as their Mowachaht cousins on nearby Vancouver Island, but fortunately their violence was usually reserved for other tribes, not for visiting whites.

#

Later,
as
Intrepid
entered the dark waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, Nathan was joined by other crewmen on deck. For many, it was their first visit to Oregon Country, too, and they studied the mist-shrouded cliffs of Cape Flattery with interest. The cliffs rose straight up out of the sea, reminding Nathan of granite sentinels. And although he couldn’t see it through the mist, he knew Vancouver Island was only fifteen miles to the north.

The view was clearer to the east where some of Oregon Country's unexplored interior was faintly visible. A vast region of mountain ranges and lush rainforests, it would later be
known as Olympic National Park. Mountain peaks and forest-clad hills stretched toward an eastern horizon hidden behind rain clouds.

As the ship rounded the cape, Nathan noticed signs of life on shore. Two native fishermen were spearing fish from rocks beneath the cliffs. They looked up when they noticed
Intrepid
. Nathan waved at them, but his wave wasn’t returned. The fishermen returned to their task. Every so often, smoke rose from a hidden village or encampment, and the occasional totem pole poked up through the canopy of fir trees.

Steady rain began falling as the ship entered Neah Bay,
Intrepid’s
immediate destination. Through the rain, totem poles and timber lodges of the Makah tribe's village came into view at the southern end of the bay. Nathan thought the timber lodges reminiscent of those he’d once seen on Vancouver Island. He learned later they were the remnants of dwellings erected by Spanish traders who had come and gone over the previous half-century.

The Makah villagers paid scant attention to
Intrepid
or her crew as they went about their everyday activities. They were well used to the sight of sailing ships in their waters.

Every villager
seemed to have something to do: the men fished, carved or mended weapons while the women collected sea shells and firewood or washed clothes in a nearby stream. Frolicking children seemed not to have a care in the world, while on a sandy beach in front of the village teenage boys played their version of tag. The game involved a high degree of athleticism and a lot of bodily contact. Some of the participants ended up bruised and bloodied, but no-one seemed to mind. It was all good fun.

Nathan noted the villagers wore traditional coverings
, including colorful blankets and dog or sealskin capes. Nobles, or those related to the chief, and headmen wore finer garments. The Makah braves wore their long hair piled up in a bun on top of their head; most wore white eagle down, or feathers, in their hair and all appeared to be armed. Some carried tomahawks and clubs, others bows and arrows or spears; a select few were armed with muskets.

The young Philadelphian knew the white man’s weapons were sought after in these parts, but they came at a high price. His uncle had told him the Makah and the other tribes of Oregon Country weren’t as we
ll off as those of their Vancouver Island neighbors. The valuable sea otter was more plentiful to the north.

Asked why
Intrepid
wasn’t returning to Vancouver Island, Captain Dawson had informed Nathan the Mowachahts and other neighboring tribes were currently causing too many problems for traders. The Makah, on the other hand, were more receptive.

Nathan spotted dozens of bald-headed eagles hovering above something at the far end of the beach. Closer inspection revealed the object of their interest was a whale carcass. The birds of prey were rapidly stripping the carcass of what little blubber remained. Nathan knew the Northwest Indians were accomplished whalers. They’d undoubtedly feasted well on this unfortunate creature before letting the eagles dine on the leftovers.

As
Intrepid
dropped anchor, Nathan saw a young Makah brave staring straight at him. He guessed the lad was around his age, a fraction older maybe. As tall as him, he had a noble countenance. Nathan thought he may be related to the chief or to one of the headmen at least. In fact, the youth, Tatoosh, was the chief’s oldest son. Nathan returned the other’s stare.
Have you claimed your first scalp yet?
Nathan wondered. Then he recalled these people didn’t scalp their enemies. Unlike their east coast and inland cousins, they beheaded their enemies and displayed the heads atop their totem poles.

At that moment Elswa, the Makahs’ chief, emerged from the larg
est of the lodges. Resplendent in a fine sea-otter cloak, he also wore two white feathers in his hair. Elswa issued an order and a dozen braves immediately launched one of the canoes that were lined up side by side on the beach.

A loud sneeze alerted Nathan and the others that Captain Dawson had rejoined them on deck. Addressing the first mate, Dawson said, “Ensure the reception party is armed and ready, Mister Bates. And no more than four savages on board at any time.”

“Aye, sir!” Bates snapped back. The first mate immediately ordered a dozen crewmen to arm themselves and assemble at the portside rail.

The crewmen concerned disappeared below deck and emerged armed with muskets
or pistols in less than a minute. Observing them, Nathan marveled at how disciplined the men aboard
Intrepid
were under his uncle’s leadership. As always, he felt proud to be related to Herbert Dawson. And as occasionally happened, his thoughts turned to his father. How he wished Johnson Senior was more like his Uncle Herbert.

Within minutes the Makah canoe was alongside
Intrepid
. Looking down over the rail, Nathan noticed Elswa, the chief, sitting in the canoe’s bow. His son, Tatoosh, sat directly behind him.

Els
wa stood up and looked at Dawson. He seemed to sense the captain was in charge. “I am Elswa, chief of the Makah,” he announced in passable English. “Welcome to the Makah Nation!”

“I am Captain Herbert Dawson,” the captain responded. “You are welcome to board my vessel.”

A sailor threw a rope ladder over the ship’s side and the Makah prepared to board.

“Four men only,” first mate Bates shouted.

Elswa looked up enquiringly.

“Four only,” Bates repeated, holding up four fingers. “And no weapons.”

Elswa grunted and issued orders to his braves before scaling the rope ladder. He was followed by Tatoosh and two other braves. All had left their weapons in the canoe as ordered.

On board, the visitors were greeted personally by Dawson who afforded them the respect with which he always treated Native Americans – especially those he hoped to trade with. Despite his habit of referring to them as
savages
, he had a grudging respect for them, their resourcefulness and their culture. Elswa seemed to sense this and nodded to the captain.

“Welcome aboard Intrepid,” Dawson said.

Elswa got straight down to business. “You trade musket?” he asked, eyeing the weapons the armed crewmembers were holding at the ready.

“Maybe…tomorrow,” Dawson answered cautiously. He knew all Native Americans lusted after muskets. He also knew when entering into trade negotiations it didn’t pay to look to
o keen. “You have something to trade?”

Elswa grunted.
He knew full well by
something to trade
the captain referred to sea otter furs.

Nathan, who was observing proceedings w
ith interest, took the chief’s grunt to mean he did indeed have the prized furs to trade for muskets. It was then he caught the eye of Tatoosh, Elswa’s son. A fine-looking boy who carried himself with pride, Tatoosh nodded to Nathan in the fashion of the Makah. The young Philadelphian nodded back.

Trading terms were soon negotiated. It was agreed Dawson would send a trading party ash
ore with muskets at first light.