In Search of Spice (38 page)

“They swim in that?” Suzanne whispered in horror, while Sara looked at the death maelstrom with her mouth open.

“How high are those things,” whispered Sara, “they must be twice the height of a man.”

“A tall man. Oh, what are they up to now?”

The Ratu rummaged in a ragged hut, a roof without walls, and pulled out a monstrous board, three times as long as he was tall.

Hinatea ran a hand along it. “Olo,” she breathed. “I never ride one. You can ride it?”

“I fall off,” laughed the Ratu. “Better on the paipo. Easier when you land. We hear about alaia, but we never see anyone who can do it. If you are truly a wave rider, I will give to you.”

Hinatea smiled and went to Maciu who offered her the choice of a smaller board the same size as her, or one twice her size. Hinatea inspected them and selected a board a little longer than her height. Maciu raised his eyebrows at her twice. She smiled, slipped off her brief tunic and started smearing coconut oil over her body. Maciu did the same. Pat came forward and helped her, smearing the oil over her back. The Ratu grinned at this and offered a pot of oil towards Suzanne who turned away, as did Sara, and they went down towards the beach.

“Careful, darling, it might be nice the way he looks at you, but don’t lead Maciu on. He won’t stop if you do.”

“Ohh, I’m not sure I would want him to, he makes me tremble inside. But you are a one to talk, the way you lead the Ratu on.”

“Lead him on? I’m desperately trying to slow him down!”

The girls giggled as they watched the first kai Viti rushing into the sea, carrying boards half their height. They carried them towards the smaller waves; wading out till the wave came, then dived into the wall of water, pushing the board in first and following.

The girls watched them climb on the boards and, lying along them, paddle out to sea. As the waves came in, they would turn and paddle with the wave, riding up high and either slipping back or catching it. They rode the wave, lying flat on the board, and being smashed flat on the beach. The girls watched in astonishment.

“Huh! They are not very good.” Silmatea appeared beside them. “This old style paipo. For men. They see who is tougher, who can stand and walk away from the highest wave. It hurts.” It looked as if it did. While they watched, one young boy twisted as the wave came down, and stayed flat on the beach. His friends pulled him up and he cradled his arm, whether broken or bruised they couldn’t tell.

“Hinatea is an artist in the new style. She will dance on the waves. These savages are in for a shock when they see true beauty.” Silmatea emanated her contempt for the kai Viti.

“Can you dance on the waves, Silmatea? Why aren’t you taking a board?”

“Later we all will. But first we enjoy watching Hinatea. See, she goes now. She will not take the little boys waves, but go further out. The boy should be careful; he will not have ridden such a big wave as she will choose. Come, let us go down the beach to those rocks. They will make a good seat and she will come in there.”

The other Pahippian girls were arriving at the rocks, bringing the crew with them, so they went to join them.

Maciu and Hinatea went into the water, followed by the Ratu, still arguing good-naturedly with Maciu. They came to the first wave and Hinatea went through it like a seal, bobbing up on the far side of the wave, lying on her little board, while the kai Viti chased after their bigger boards. With sure strokes, she paddled hard out to sea, rising gracefully up and over the non-breaking waves.

“See there,” Silmatea explained. “The sea goes back out there and it makes the waves smaller. It is easier to go out to sea, it carries them. She will ride it to where they start to break and will come round outside them. The men will turn off earlier or they will have trouble. Ah, see? The Ratu is clever; he is stopping there where he has the best view. He will sit on his board and watch.”

Maciu doggedly followed Hinatea, but most of the other surfers were now sitting on their boards, watching. Hinatea turned and moved parallel to the beach, only occasionally visible over the waves. Behind her something humped in the water like a leviathan rising, a seventh-seventh wave, a man killer. Foam flashed beside her board, and keen eyed Pat called out, “She isn’t paddling, she’s doing big arm strokes! Going really fast!”

Pat stopped talking, Grey Fox grunted with surprise, the others could see her change shape. “She’s standing on the board,” breathed Pat. “Oh, I’ve got to try this!”

“Me too!” Sara said, while Suzanne was not alone in thinking ‘No fucking way!’

“It takes time to learn,” said Silmatea, “but if there is another beach with different, smaller waves we can teach you.”

All the kai Viti along the beach stood and watched Hinatea, for unlike the boys and men earlier, she wasn’t going straight into the beach. Instead she slid sideways along the wave, travelling much faster than the others and creating a wake behind her. Now riding high, now swooping down at speed, once speeding to the top of the wave and almost flipping up in the air as she turned and came down again.

“No tricks, darling,” whispered Silmatea. “Come in now, come in slowly and beautifully.” Sara looked at her, wondering if she even realised she spoke in Harrhein.

Hinatea seemed to hear her, for she moved to the crest of the wave and struck a dramatic pose on her board, a dark shape silhouetted against the bright sky, arms held wide. The beach held its breath, this was the highest wave, surely the impact would kill her, yet she had taken her board higher up the wave. The board tilted up, she floated over the top of the wave and down the back of it as the front crashed hard into the beach with a roar, then she slid up the beach in the foam as the wave disintegrated, stepping off the board daintily in the shallow water as it came to a halt. She pirouetted in the sand then picked up her board, going over to kiss Pat. She accepted an opened coconut from Trieste and smiled at everyone looking at her.

“Good wave.” She drank.

There was a thump as Maciu landed flat on the beach, coming down hard off a smaller wave. He got up, shook himself, picked up his board and walked over to Hinatea who was sitting down now. He looked at her steadily, raised his eyebrows and sat down beside her. She passed him the coconut.

“I think it is sign of respect, the eyebrows.” Silmatea whispered, continuing her self-imposed cultural interpreter position. “They do things differently from us.”

A monstrous walrus erupted out of the next wave, scattering water everywhere and the Ratu appeared, disdaining to thump down onto the beach. He also sat down beside Hinatea and accepted a coconut from Trieste. The silence dragged on while kai Viti gathered from up and down the beach, nobody speaking.

The Ratu stood and looked at his people. He spoke to them in Vituan, sonorously rolling out the words. Half way through he extended an arm to Hinatea. She stood and smiled at the audience, who cheered. He switched to Belada.

“Hinatea of Pahipi, we acknowledge you as alaia. We believed our skill surpassed all others, that alaia rode the board to the beach as we do. Now we know a hard truth. But we are kai Viti! We love skill and ability. We grant you the title of Queen of the Southern Ocean and the name Biau Lala, Wave Dancer. We grant you freedom to live here in Vitua, the Land Beloved of the Gods for we proclaim you an honorary kai Viti.” He leaned down and gave her a formal hug, which she returned in similar style, both oblivious of their nakedness.

“Tomorrow, Biau Lala, you will teach me alaia.”

“With pleasure, Great Ratu. Perhaps we start at a different beach?”

They returned to the village, everyone talking and Hinatea the centre of attention, where the cooks rushed off to bury the lolo, the feast. All the food was wrapped up in leaves and placed on a bed of coals from a fire that had been burning all day at the bottom of a pit. They covered the food parcels up with a few feet of earth and left, to the deep fascination of the ship’s cook and his helpers. A cheerful young warrior was assigned to translate. He found it hysterical to be interpreting about cooking, as his command of Belada tended to be more martial, but with the aid of gestures and showing items, they established communication and the day saw the ship’s cooks gain a fair command of Vituan culinary terms. The Harrheinians knew most of the food from Pahipi, including a stunning dish of tuna cooked in coconut milk by leaving it in the full glare of the sun.

Most of the ship’s company attended the party, Pat volunteering for guard duty as he wanted to keep Mot away from drunken kai Viti. He commanded a skeleton guard crew of Spakka who viewed the kai Viti even more suspiciously than the Pahippians. One exception was Stiphleek, who was not going to miss festivity and had recently formed a fast friendship with Corporal Little, a friendship which revolved around a mutual admiration for alcohol.

Villagers lit fires in a circle around the centre of the village and everyone sat inside the ring of fires. Many of the villagers acted as waiters, while the ship’s cook collared half the crew to do the same in doling out beer and brandy from the ships stores. Kai Viti and Harrheinians got on tremendously well; recognising many similarities and all around the fires could be seen people exchanging close examinations of each other’s skins. The kai Viti had never seen white people before.

The Ratu leaned from his seat to Suzanne, sitting in the place of honour to his right. “Is this the normal dress for you Women People?” he asked, indicating over to the side, where she saw Terri and Katie sitting with some young kai Viti boys, both naked to the waist. Sighing, Suzanne went over to them.

“I thought you would like to know nice kai Viti girls cover their breasts with necklaces of shells.” She said this in Belada and glared at the young kai Viti who fell about with laughter, before placing necklaces over the girls’ heads, who were scarlet with embarrassment.

Smiling girls served copious amounts of kava, while two brawny young kai Viti went to the centre for a wrestling bout, with lots of shouted encouragement. On the finish, Husk and the carpenter’s assistant jumped up and conducted a boxing bout, to the huge delight of the kai Viti. The Ratu had to be shown how to box and make a fist, after which he laid one of his guards unconscious to great applause. Wisely, he retired as a few impromptu bouts started between kai Viti and Harrheinians. A couple of crewmen managed to win wrestling contests and a couple of kai Viti won boxing matches to general satisfaction all round. The kai Viti chefs, all women, drove the wrestlers and boxers from the middle with sticks, showing no respect for age or nationality, and started to serve the food on banana leaves.

The Ratu was distressed at how little Suzanne ate and kept trying to force delicacies upon her. She matched him cup for cup with the kava, though, beginning to get a taste for it.

The meal came to an end with fruits, and Captain Larroche rose to his feet to make his apologies and retire to the ship, when the kai Viti went quiet. Sharpening her attention, Suzanne noted the thinned ranks of kai Viti, and some careful, considered examinations of the shadows from Mactravis, Russell and Strachan. The Ratu looked outside the fires with obvious anticipation and the warriors marched in, each bearing a thick length of bamboo of different lengths. Lining up in front of the Ratu, they began to slam the bamboo onto the ground in turns, causing them to resonate with the force of the blow. Each different length of bamboo made a different sound, so the team acted as a band, creating a haunting music. Strong voices opened up and the Harrheinians found themselves silenced by the magic of the moment, strong, beautiful voices backed up by the unusual melodic beating of the bamboo, while sparks floated up from the fires to the clear sky adorned with the brilliant diamonds of the southern stars, framed by the fronds of the coconut palms.

The kai Viti sang for an hour, after which Captain Larroche declared himself exhausted and needing to return to the ship. Suzanne stood as well to the Ratu’s obvious horror and dismay. He exclaimed the dancing would start in a moment, at which she smiled, and agreed to stay a little longer.

Sara came and took the Captain’s place as the circle adjusted, those remaining coming to the Ratu’s side. Accompanied by the haunting singing, kai Viti girls danced dressed in skirts consisting of a belt of twine suspending long strips of coconut palm leaves. Lots of strips, very narrow, coming down to below the knee, but the dancing revealed the legs. A lot. The girls also wore the shell necklaces. The dances were slow, rhythmic and beautiful, and Suzanne and Sara were entranced. Perryn remained, as did most of the young members of the crew, all riveted by this dancing so unlike anything they had ever imagined.

After the first few dances, the Pahippian girls joined in, wearing borrowed skirts and with different moves. They made a stunning contrast, with their long, straight, black hair, lighter skin and smaller frames. This inspired the Ratu to genius, and he challenged Suzanne to join in, offering her a beautiful grass skirt, cunningly woven and dyed. High and happy on the euphoria kava inspires, Suzanne leapt at the opportunity. She went with Sara and the Ratu’s daughters to change in his hut. They brushed out her hair into a mane, rubbed in a wax made of pig fat and clay and brought it to a wild array similar to the way the kai Viti hair stood out. They twisted her hair into ropes to make them stand, over a foot long with the ends waving so it looked as if a forest of palm trees grew from her head. They rubbed her torso with oil so it gleamed, placed a carved shell necklace round her neck and topped it with a wreath made from scented flowers.