Fiji: A Novel by Lance; James Morcan Morcan

Author:Lance; James Morcan Morcan [Morcan, Lance; James Morcan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Sterling Gate Books
Published: 2011-06-23T04:30:00+00:00

17

The following morning, villagers assembled on the beach to farewell their good friends, the Mamanucans, who at that moment were readying their drua for the return voyage to their island. Hosts and guests alike were highly satisfied with the outcome of the visit: the trading had been successful, old friendships had been strengthened, and new liaisons forged.

As the drua sailed away from the shore, the Mamanucans’ ratu, Lemeki, looked directly at Joeli, who was standing in the shallows. The two nodded gravely to each other. Despite their competitiveness, the respect each had for the other was obvious to all.

Nathan watched from the village as the Mamanucans sailed out of the bay, then turned his attention back to the village. He was hoping to see Susannah, but was disappointed to find she’d returned to the mission station. Nathan knew he’d be on tenterhooks until he saw her that night at the supper engagement her father had invited him to. He was looking forward to that, even if he wasn’t sure what Drake Senior was up to.

#

Later, as he wandered along the village outskirts, Nathan noticed Joeli approaching, or, more correctly, he saw his high, bright yellow hair approaching. “Bula,” he called out.

“Bula, Nathan Johnson,” Joeli responded. “You look well today, my brother.” The ratu stopped before Nathan. “Tomorrow, we collect trepang to complete our trade.”

Nathan smiled at the thought of taking delivery of his precious sea slugs. “How long do you expect that to take?”

“Few days. You have them before ship return,” he said, referring to the Rendezvous’s scheduled return.

The boom of a musket being discharged behind the village caused Nathan to jump. Joeli smiled as two more shots rang out. “My warriors practice killing.” He motioned to Nathan. “Come.”

Nathan followed Joeli to a valley behind the mission station. There, they found all the village’s able-bodied warriors assembled. Waisale was among them. As always, his pink hair set him apart from the others. The Qopa were practicing priming, firing, and reloading the muskets Nathan had supplied. Their technique had improved little since they’d fought off Rambuka’s outcasts. Muskets were going off in all directions, and the valley was already a haze of gunsmoke. No thought was being given to safety.

A warrior dropped to the ground when he saw a musket being aimed at his belly at point-blank range. Its owner was trying to load it, not aware it was already loaded. The musket suddenly discharged, its shot flying just over the head of the warrior who was now lying face-down in the dirt. The lucky warrior immediately jumped up and berated the man who had nearly killed him.

Joeli looked on with misplaced pride as he watched his warriors practice. Turning to Nathan, he was bemused to find the young American was rocking with laughter. Joeli scowled.

Realizing he risked offending Joeli, Nathan assumed a serious expression. “Their technique is wrong,” he said seriously. “They’re more likely to kill each other than their enemies if they keep doing what they’re doing.”

Joeli looked aggrieved. “You teach?”

Without another word, Nathan walked down and joined the warriors.

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