Authors: K Martin Gardner
Robulla’s canoe rounded the rocks just before the sun rose above the hazy horizon.
Black Jack stood at attention, a solitary figure. A brazen warrior bronzed in front facing the glittering sea, his solemn silhouetted back appeared black to the flat, wet beach behind him.
He threw a hand into the air, hailing the approaching boat.
Robulla returned a half-hearted wave, avoiding Black Jack’s eyes. “Get in.” He said.
Black Jack rode silently for a considerable time, standing in the bow just behind Robulla.
The Chief turned his head from side to side, as a monarch surveying his kingdom.
Black Jack got a good sense of Robulla’s arrogance. It did not bode well.
Black Jack did not like being helpless in a bad situation.
Helplessness comes before Death
, I reckon.
The day was beautiful.
The sky was clear and dry. A light, cool breeze stippled the china-blue water.
The odd spout or two of wayward whales gave way to thick, migrating groups of them that clogged the channel.
Their bumpy, humped backs bobbed and dipped like pickles in a barrel, bouncing the boat gently in all directions.
The whales were inbound, setting off the distant cry of the Lookout and sending men scrambling on the beach.
Black Jack’s captain was called onto deck as both the whales and Robulla arrived at the same time.
The Captain sorted his priorities.
“All hands stand fast.
Lower the ladder!” he boomed.
“Let the shore whalers do their job.
You do yours!
Harper!
What is that ridiculous outfit that you have on?”
Robulla stepped in front of Black Jack on the bow as he shouted up to the Captain.
“Good Sir, do not be too harsh on the boy.
We found him in this horrible state in the hands of a rogue tribe just down the coast.”
He turned to Black Jack and whispered in his ear, “The captain is upset.
He was terribly troubled with your disappearance and he has been worried sick.
Pay him no mind.
I will handle this.”
Robulla smiled and hailed the Captain as he made for the rope ladder.
“Good Captain, I have brought you your man, and I assure you that he is in excellent condition.
If we can conclude our bargain, then I will be on my way.
I see that you are very busy with more important business” He stopped on the top rung to cast a glance at a skiff in hot pursuit of a whale.
The Captain looked in the direction of the hunted whale.
“Ah yes, Robulla.
The whales often distract us.
Please, forgive my rudeness.
Do come aboard.”
“Do you not think it is a beautiful day, Captain?” Asked Robulla, climbing aboard the ship. “Captain, now that we are out of ear shot of your man, I feel that it is safe to tell you. Captain, your boy believes that he is a Maori now.
It is going to take considerable effort on your part to reinstate a sense of discipline in him.
I suggest that you take it slowly, for your sake.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is wise in the ways of our warriors now.
He could be a threat to your crew’s safety if he is angered.
He is like a wild beast now.”
Robulla waited for the Captain to peer over the side of the ship before continuing. “Now, my advice is to let me counsel him on what your wishes are and the conditions he must meet before returning to proper service.
He is aware of our other deal, so allow me to have the guns now, so that I may show him your sincerity.
Once the muskets are safely on my boat, then he will feel that you are receiving him with a forgiving heart.
Ooh, look, they’ve got him!”
Robulla pointed to a flailing whale as he finished.
The Captain was distracted momentarily. “Yes, certainly.
Show him that I mean business, I mean that I need the business, I mean… need him back!”
“Yes, yes, Captain, certainly I will help in this matter.
I see the crates stacked over there.
If your men could just chuck them down to my men, then I will go down and prepare your boy for his return to civilization.”
The Captain, eyes still fixed on the frantic whale, issued the order for the guns to go down.
“Yes, yes, away with the muskets, just as we discussed at morning quarters.
We’ve got more pressing business now!”
Robulla scrambled down the ladder as the narrow, long, wooden boxes were chucked over the side.
He spoke quietly with Black Jack while stealing glances at the Captain.
As the last of the crates were lowered down, Robulla ushered Black Jack to the ladder and stood there alongside him looking up.
He grabbed Black Jack by the nape of the neck. “Right, then, nice visiting with you Captain.
We’ll be away now.”
Robulla flicked his fingers at his rowers and the great boat set off.
The Captain of The Elizabeth cast a glance down at the departing boat, then looked back calmly at the jumping whale.
Suddenly, he turned and scanned the deck of his ship.
Seeing nothing but the sniggering faces of his busy crew, he looked over the rails again. He saw Arthur being led to the back of the boat by Robulla.
The Captain yelled, “You there, scoundrel, whatever do you think you are doing? Bring back my Harper!”
III
The sound of nails being pried from resinous wood lids, the resonant slapping of pine boards being thrown onto a hardwood hull, and the continuous beat of five-hundred paddles all colluded in a streamlined symphony being conducted down the coast.
Robulla squinted down the silver barrel of a new musket as he pulled it from a box.
“The old man was glad to see you, son.” He said. He pretended to fire a shot toward shore.
“Nice.” he said. A nearby oarsman nodded and winked at him.
“All right, who’s got the powder?” Robulla demanded.
A man rushed forward carrying a small, leather bag. Robulla smiled at Black Jack and then at the coast.
He took the sac from the warrior and loaded a charge.
He cocked the hammer back, raised the gun, and aimed straight down the barrel.
He squeezed the trigger.
A beautiful silver cloud with white sparks plumed above Robulla’s head. A hearty blast rumbled over the water. An echo rolled back.
Robulla lowered the musket. “They just get better every year.”
Robulla told his men to throw the crate scraps overboard. He ordered them to load a full shot and ball for twenty-five muskets.
“You see, all in a day’s work.
And back for lunch, just as I promised.” Black Jack nodded.
“I must admit, you are a unique fellow.
I have never seen a man speak the white man’s tongue and have such dark skin.
How does this come to pass?”
Black Jack explained how Ruaoneone had given him his name.
Robulla chuckled. “The first white man at Te Pukatea was black!
How about that?
That is the stuff legends are made of, I must say. Well now, the Captain called you ‘Harper’.
How do you explain that?”
Arthur told him the painful story.
“Well yes, subordination can be like that.
Just thank your lucky stars that you are free now. But you are quite large and strong to be regarded as a boy.
I don’t think that your captain appreciated your full potential as a warrior.
My goodness, you are as large as any Maori! You have been a great help to me today.
I consider you an asset, and I hope that I can count on you again someday soon.
You will make a great warrior, and perhaps even a chief one day. Be my friend, Black Jack White.
I will make you into a great Maori chief like myself.”
“I don’t know.”
The two men fell silent. Black Jack noticed two objects approaching the boat from the coast.
They were smaller canoes. The warriors onboard wore different markings from those of Robulla’s men. Robulla signaled to the boats.
Black Jack asked, “Who are they?”
“They are warriors of another tribe.
We all train together periodically to maintain good relations.”
“Do you ever train with Ruaoneone and the Rangitane people?”
“No.”
As they approached Pukatea, one of the smaller ships broke toward shore.
Robulla signaled again.
As the large ship rounded into the bay, the second of the smaller boats continued south.
“Training is finished for the day.”
Robulla said.
“Time to eat!”
IV
Ruaoneone and his entire village ambled down the hill to greet their guests.
The women left lunch simmering underground. They laughed and chatted as they strolled toward the beach.
The children scurried here and there, naked and giggling.
The young men walked in loud crowds. The elders rallied around the Chief.
They all gathered on the beach. Ruaoneone signaled for everyone to be silent.
Their Chief smiled and put his hand in the air as a greeting to Robulla.
He was so happy that the old dog had mended his evil ways, thought Ruaoneone.
Robulla raised his hand high in salute. A tense moment of silence followed as the two chiefs locked eyes.
Robulla’s smile suddenly faded. His hand came down.
When it had dropped, every man in the gigantic boat stood up together.
Robulla picked up his musket. Twenty-four of his warriors followed suit.
The remaining four hundred and seventy-five men removed their
mere,
or greenstone blades, from their belts.
Black Jack looked around nervously for Kumari.
She peered at him from behind her mother, smiling.
Oh Lord, no one said anything about a show
, he thought.
Robulla fired the first shot.
The musket ball tore through the neck of one of the elder men. A fountain of blood followed the blast.
All Hell broke loose.
The women screamed and fled in all directions, scooping up children as they ran.
Robulla’s men sent a volley of musket shot into their backs.
Some fell, and others were spared by the misfires of the first round.
Ruaoneone and his men were unarmed, save for their meres.
Black Jack remained frozen in terror as Robulla reloaded in front of him.
Robulla and his musketeers fired another round, taking out more women and children, and wounding the advancing men.
Robulla’s men jumped from the boat and met Ruaoneone’s men on the sand.
Black Jack witnessed the purpose of the mere for the first time. The great, flat battle-axes were wielded with wild chops, not slaps. Black Jack saw men’s skulls sliced open and freed of their crowns and brains with one quick, clean swat.
Men from both sides fell like zombies in mid-stride, their bodies sinking and tangling, slumping like dung into mud.