“A house for me? But what would me widows do? They depend on me!” “I see. Well, it was just a thought.”
“I saw more bamboo piled on the beach, that was all.”
Ready smiled. “Sister, I have a confession to make. The bamboo is for your house. I planned on surprising you.”
She smiled back. “I will make a confession, too. As much as I love me widows, I won’t mind being quit of them. ’T’would be nice to have me own digs, as it were. If I might compensate ye in some way … ”
“No charge, Sister. Call it a gift.”
She frowned. “I would prefer to pay you, in some manner. I have no money, but I would be willing to come here, to do housework for ye.”
“No. I don’t think that would be a good idea. Just be my friend, that’s all.”
“I am pleased to be yer friend, Bosun,” she replied sternly, “but if ye build this house for me, I will be grateful to a friend, but a friend only. Ye understand this, do ye not?”
“Of course, Sister.” His smile turned crooked.
“Yer sure?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Splendid!” She was silent for a moment and then said, “There’s one thing you must understand. I am happy here, never doubt it, and enjoy so much teaching the children. But somehow, I still must find a way to chase the Japanese from Ruka. That is my passion. After a suitable while, will ye help me do that, Bosun O’Neal?”
“Sister, you know I want to,” Ready replied, wanting so much to take her hands in his, “but Captain Thurlow was right. We just don’t have enough marines to chase ten Japanese away, much less a hundred. And from what I saw written on the cross, it looks like your colonel will come here first.”
Her expression closed, and her voice turned cold. “He is not my colonel, as you say.”
“Well, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
She rose and tucked her hands in her sleeves. “I do not expect ye to build me a house,” she said.
“Sister, forgive me. I’m sorry for any upset I caused you. Let me build you a house. It would give me much happiness.”
“No, Bosun. Put it out of yer mind. I’m sorry I agreed to it. I no longer agree to it at all.”
She left, walking with her dog down a path lined with stones Ready had built with the hope she might one day walk along it. He watched her go, while leaning in his doorway, until she disappeared beneath the big candlewood tree beside the boathouse. “That Japanese colonel wants you,” he said to himself, “and, though I know it is past foolishness to insanity, so do I.”
Then he went back inside his fine new house, and there one of the most respected men on Tahila sat alone.
38
Another week passed, plus a few days, and Josh Thurlow used the time to try to figure out a few more things. About himself, mostly, but other things, too. One afternoon, he found himself sitting in a chair in front of his wife’s house. It was a sturdy chair. He’d fashioned it from the limbs of a breadfruit tree and bound it tightly with hemp twine. Rose had further provided kapok-filled cushions for it, and, sitting there in the warm sun, he supposed he was nearly happy, even as he was also frustrated. While Bosun O’Neal had risen in stature on Tahila, Josh had no stature at all, other than that of a former chief, now disgraced and discarded. When the marines saw him, they usually looked the other way. When Bosun O’Neal crossed his path, he would smartly salute, but Josh never saluted him back. Instead, he would growl, “I don’t salute mutineers!” Chief Kalapa and Mr. Bucknell did everything they could to avoid Josh altogether, which they usually managed.
Gradually, over the days, Josh had come to accept that he was no longer in charge of anything and, with Rose’s help, sometimes even like it. But since he was a dynamic man, such could not last, and that is why he became the charcoal man of Tahila.
From the first, Josh was surprised to see that Rose cooked on an open wood fire, which was, Josh suspected, inefficient. After some study, he saw that indeed there was a constant requirement to build the fire up, which meant frequent trips to the woodpile, and the heat it delivered was unsteady. As a result, the food was sometimes undercooked and sometimes overcooked. Since Josh looked forward to his meals, he pondered on how to make the cooking easier and better. Charcoal, he decided, was the solution. While on hiking trips with his father in the North Carolina mountains, he had observed charcoal kilns and, being an engineer, had paid attention to their design. He recalled that one of the mountaineers had used an oil drum to make charcoal, and that was the direction Josh decided to go. He hiked across the mountain, pleased that his strength had returned and even his knee didn’t hurt much, and poked around the old gold mine until he found a steel drum that wasn’t too rusty. With the help of Nango and another fella boy, he hauled it to a site just above the village and there prepared his kiln.
After scouting the forest, he chopped down a diseased monkeypod tree and began his tests. It took many tries, but finally Josh figured out how to use the exotic wood to make charcoal. Rose tried it, was delighted with the results, and showed it off to her relatives. Immediately they wanted charcoal of their own, and Josh was more than happy to supply it.
Since the output of his barrel kiln was limited, he thought about how to build a kiln from local materials. It turned out one of the fella boys knew how to make mud bricks, and the problem was solved. Josh built a kiln out of bricks, produced charcoal, and gave away his patent to anyone who wanted it. Soon many women were making charcoal in their own kilns. Josh, the charcoal man of Tahila, was pleased that he had introduced a new technology.
While Josh scoured the forest for diseased trees to use for charcoal, it also allowed him to inspect the lookout points Bosun O’Neal had established. He took the opportunity to check the fields of fire of the machine guns, and, from a distance, hidden in the bush, observe the weekly maneuvers of the women’s militia and the nun’s fella boys. Although he was averse to approving anything a mutineer might accomplish, his observations confirmed that Bosun O’Neal had done a good job. He studied the various beaches around the island to determine if the Japanese could use them for a landing. He was relieved to find that there were none that were suitable, due to high cliffs, save a small one on the northern side of the island. When the Japanese came, Josh believed they would come straight at the village. He also had no doubt that their landing would be successful—and tragic.
He was worrying about all this, sitting in the sun on his breadfruit chair, when Rose came outside and stood beside him to wait for the children after school. Turu and Manda raced up and flung themselves into her arms, laughing and chattering, and then, with pure abandon, threw themselves at Josh, too. He picked them both up, allowing Manda to climb up behind his neck and drop her little legs around it to dangle along his chest, and Turu to be held in one of his big arms.
“Jahtalo,” Turu said, “I learned today of a place called Ireland. The nun read about it to us. I would like to go there someday. Do you think I could?”
“I think you could go anywhere and do anything you want,” Josh answered and then, wanting to study the lagoon with an eye on how to stop the Japanese, said, “Why don’t we go fishing?”
“I should like that very much, Jahtalo!”
“Let’s take your mother along. What do you say?”
“Oh, yes!”
“No!” Rose yelped. “Tahila women have enough work to do. We do not go out on boats, unless it to visit relatives on the other islands, and we do not fish. Fishing is reserved for the men, who otherwise just play and sleep.”
“Oh, come on, Rose,” Josh pleaded. “Just go out with us today for a little while. We’ll leave Manda with your sister. It’ll be fun.”
Manda was not pleased with this idea. “I want to fish, too,” she said.
“I will take you next time, dear,” Josh promised, “but this time, I think I want to take just your brother and your mother. It is not because I don’t love your company, which I do, but because I think you would have
more fun with your cousins.”
“Yes,” Manda answered sagely, “you are probably right.”
Josh reached up and gave Manda an appreciative squeeze, causing her to giggle. His heart swelled at the sound of it. He thought it might even break.
A little later, Josh, with Rose and Turu aboard, paddled their canoe into the lagoon. He’d bought the canoe for only two bags of charcoal. Rose, sitting at the centerboard, looked decidedly uncomfortable. “It will be fine, Rose,” he told her.
“But I’ve told you I do not want to fish,” she insisted. “It is not proper.”
“Of course it is. Where I grew up, all the women fished.”
“Does your woman named Dosie fish?” she demanded. “I asked Bosun O’Neal, and he said she was a fine lady.”
“Stop talking to Bosun O’Neal.”
“Does she fish, husband?”
“No, but she wasn’t born and raised on Killakeet. She is from a different tribe, you might say.”
“A better tribe, one that doesn’t make its women fish?”
“Well, it was the Yankee tribe, and I think some of its women fished, too. But not Dosie.”
“I think I like your Dosie,” Rose declared. “Bring her here. She can be your second wife and help me with the housework and cooking.”
“I will think about that,”
Josh said, smiling.
Josh threaded the canoe through the coral heads until they reached deeper water. He baited a bone hook with a small chunk of parrotfish, which was called locally a papu-papu, and then, using a length of thin bamboo as a pole and hemp for the line, made his cast. Turu also baited a hook and tossed it in, using a traditional hand line. Josh admired the boy who, though small in stature, was wiry and strong.
It didn’t take long before Josh got a bite. Oh, how lovely it would be to have a reel, he thought, although he expertly hooked the fish and dragged it in hand over hand. It proved to be a nice grouper, which the locals called a lapa-lapa. “Supper, I do declare!” Josh grinned and hauled in the flopping fish. He cracked it on the head with the butt of his K-bar and then deftly gutted and filleted it, presenting a juicy morsel to Turu and Rose. Both of them ate and, as was the custom, smacked their lips in appreciation.
“Oh, so!” Turu exclaimed, then pulled in a plump tilapia, which, oddly enough, was also called tilapia by the locals. Following Josh’s lead, Turu stunned the fish with the butt of his bone-handled knife, then just as expertly gutted it and cut chunks of meat from it, proudly giving Josh and his mother each a morsel.
Ah, now ain’t this living! Josh thought to himself. “Are you ready for a turn at fishing, Rose?”
“I dare not, husband. It is not proper, as I have explained to you.”
“Oh, come on. I won’t tell anybody, and neither will Turu. Will you, son?”
Turu shook his head, but Josh wasn’t paying attention since he was reflecting, with some satisfaction, that he had called the boy “son.” He looked at Rose and saw that she was smiling tenderly in his direction. She had heard him say it, too. She reached for the bamboo pole.
Josh flung her hook out across the water, and it didn’t take long before Rose was rewarded with a jerk on the line. “Set the hook!” Josh cried and reached for the line. Rose pulled the pole in one direction as the hooked fish swerved in another, and Josh found himself reaching for nothing but air and tipping beyond his capability to correct. Knowing he was going in anyway, he dived in headfirst and came up spewing water. Rose was laughing so hard she dropped the pole, and Josh became entangled in the line. Climbing back into the canoe, no mean feat, Josh sat down, dragged in the rod, and proceeded to untangle himself. Then an idea popped into his head. He studied the lagoon, from headland to headland. “I know what to do,” he said.
“You don’t act like it, husband,” Rose said, still laughing.
Josh laughed, too, and kept untangling himself. “I mean I know how to stop the Japanese, Rose,” he said.
“You fill me with pride, Jahtalo,” she answered. “Now, teach me to fish. I have decided this is fun.”
The next cast saw Rose hook a fish and pull it in. It proved to be a small barracuda, which she called an ogo. But Josh cut the line and let the toothy fish go.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded. “It was mine, not yours.”
“My apologies, Rose. I should have told you my reason before acting. My father, Keeper Jack, turned me against eating barracuda. He said it was the smartest fish in the sea. He also said it could make you sick, that a type of poison built up inside it. Gives you tremors, makes you unbalanced.”
“You must have eaten some ogo before you fell into the sea!” Rose said, turning to laughter once more.
Josh smiled, but then he spotted something floating in the water. He paddled the canoe over to it and plucked it out. It was a greasy lump, and it stank. “Throw that away,” Rose said, wrinkling her nose. “That is kakulu, the spit of a whale.”
“Actually, it is formed in the gut of the sperm whale,” Josh informed her. “It’s called ambergris in English, although I think it was originally a French word. It’s used in perfume that fancy ladies wear.”
“Perfume? But it has an awful odor.”
Josh gave the lump a sniff and was reminded of a musty basement. “It’s a bit strong, I’ll warrant. Too bad there’s not more of it around, though. It’s worth quite a lot of money.”
“Oh, I know where there is a great deal of it,” Rose said archly. “On the beach of dead whales.”
“What are you talking about, woman?”
Turu spoke up. “It is a hard paddle by canoe but an easy hike, taking but a day. It is there the whales come to die.”
“I should very much like to see this place,” Josh said, eagerly anticipating an adventure, not to mention becoming rich.
“Then I will guide you,” Turu said.
“Will you go, Rose?” Josh asked.
“Of course. I could use a day off. So could the children.”
“What about school?” Josh asked.
“What about it? Is it wrong for children to miss school to have an adventure with their father? I think not!”
“If every mother were like you, Rose,” Josh admired, “there would be no unhappy children.”
Rose smiled at Josh’s sentiment, though she did not entirely understand what he meant by it. Would any mother in the whole world deny her children an adventure? She sincerely doubted it.
The fishing continued and several plump snappers, called huma, were caught to add to the larder, and finally a nice tuna, called matu. “After we dry them, we’ll have enough fish to last us a week,” Josh said, pleased. “And we’ve only been out for about an hour. These are some of the richest waters I’ve ever known. It’s heaven for a fisherman.”
“Then you like living on Tahila, husband?” Rose asked.
Josh nodded, then allowed a contented sigh. “I like living on Tahila very much, Rose. Very much, indeed.”
Josh and Turu paddled back around the headland, and it was then that Josh caught sight of something white and rectangular just beneath the surface of the lagoon. He directed the canoe to it, then leaned over and plucked it out, discovering that it was a waterlogged scrap of paper covered with printed Japanese characters. A page from a book. Then, a rainbow stain floating on the surface caught his eye, and his blood turned cold
39
Josh found Bosun O’Neal at the site of the nun’s house, which he was determined to build, whether she liked it or not. It was a property with a huge banyan tree and a sweeping view of the lagoon. To pay for it, he had promised Chief Kalapa to take a Tahila woman as a wife. More than a few had since paraded by, bringing gifts of food and drink. He’d tried to be interested, but though he knew he would have to do it, and though many had stirred his libido, none so far had stirred his heart. Now he stared at the scrap of sea-soaked paper Josh held out to him, then shrugged. “What does it mean?”
“What do you think it means
? It means the Japanese are scouting us.”
Ready took the soggy scrap, turned it over, then shrugged again. “It could have been floating around in the ocean for a long time.”
“Japanese paper is made of rice,” Josh explained, “and it doesn’t take long before it dissolves in seawater. I also saw an oil stain on the water. Japanese barges tend to leak oil.”
“Assuming this means anything,” Ready said dubiously, “what do you want me to do about it? I’ve already posted lookouts.”
Josh, even though he had been turned into the charcoal man of Tahila, was still not used to being questioned by lower-ranking personnel over such matters. His annoyance showed. “Use your head, Bosun! You’ve got to ratchet up everything. Tell your lookouts to be on the alert and stop sleeping on the job. How do I know they sleep? Because I’ve gone out and caught them. That’s something you should have done. You can’t just post lookouts and expect them to do their jobs. They get stale and need a kick in the butt every so often. You also need to put the marines under some kind of discipline. I haven’t seen them take a turn on the machine guns in weeks.”
Ready continued to look dubious, which made Josh even more annoyed. Finally, the bosun said, “I guess I could tell everybody your concerns, Captain. And I’ve asked the marines to go down to the guns every so often and check them, make sure they’re ready to go. But they have responsibilities now with their women.”
Josh glared at Ready, wanting to knock him down and kick him for good measure, but, knowing such would do no good, he lowered himself to explain. “Look, Bosun, if you are going to command, then command. That means telling the marines what to do and not worrying about what they want. You also must discern the enemy’s mind. The Japanese are here, but they haven’t waltzed right in. That likely means they’ve spotted us or heard that we’re here via the coconut telegraph. These local fella boys go out and fish. Likely they’ve run across fishermen from Ruka, too, and they gossip, and that gets back to Colonel Yoshu.”