Authors: Homer Hickam
“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.
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 successfulâand 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.