The Navigator Page 16

  ‘Better today – probably because I found something useful to do. How did you make out?’

  Thorkild recounted his day. Magnusson was strangely moved by the story of the last resting-place of Kaloni Kienga and the Navigators. He said broodingly:

  ‘I remember having a long argument with your priest friend, Flanagan, about the nature of faith. He made the point that I’m only now beginning to understand: that religious faith provides man with what he called the arithmetic of the cosmos…a means to harmonize himself with the mysterious universe in which he finds himself. He went further and said that, without that arithmetic, we were idiots living in a bedlam. I couldn’t see it then. I see it now. I never knew a man so complete and harmonious as your grandfather. That’s why his end seems so – so proper…Our group, now, is quite different. So far, you’re doing the right thing, holding them together with a single, simple ethic – work together to survive. But that won’t carry you far enough. Even now, it’s clear that we’ve got more than we need; and more time than we can cope with. So, tomorrow and the days after, the rhythm is going to slow down, partly because of the climate, and according to Sally Anderton, partly because of the monotony of our activities. You’ll slow down too, Gunnar. Inevitably your grip will loosen, as mine has. What then …?’

  ‘If I think that way,’ said Gunnar Thorkild, ‘I’ll never do anything. I’ve got to work from day to day, proposing limited goals; the salvage, the upland farm, the building of our vessel. Right now, it’s the social situation that bothers me. Charlie Kamakau and his Barbara are just the first symptoms’

  ‘I know. Molly Kaapu and I talked about it today. We listened too – mostly to the women. They talk about things much more freely than men.’

  ‘How were they talking, Carl?’

  ‘Well, let’s start from the beginning…They’ve all got preferences among the men.’ He laughed. ‘They’ve got us all weighed off, Thorkild – even you – as providers and protectors and sexual partners; and their preferences aren’t confined to one man. They know they themselves are vulnerable. There’s no pill, no condoms; so any one of them can fall pregnant. Which is why most of them are being careful right now. They’re still not convinced that we’re going to spend a lifetime here – and they don’t relish the idea of going home one day with a parcel of kids that once belonged to a tribe and then belong to nobody. There’s no law here that protects them: no marriage, no divorce, no property right, no framework that will continue if they ever leave here. Sure, when they come to heat, they’ll mate and to hell with the consequences. They’ll bury their fears and live from day to day; but the uncertainty will always be there…At first sight the married ones like Barbara Kamakau and Eva Kuhio are better off; in another sense, they’re worse, because they’re bound, while the others are free…Am I making sense?’

  ‘Very good sense, Carl. Except I don’t yet see what to do about it.’

  ‘Are you open to a proposition?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Well, go back to the argument you and I had before we set out: annexation of this territory to a sovereign state, the United States of America. Now, at first sight that’s a meaningless formality. However, if we agreed it, we’d set ourselves under a code of laws to which we’re all accustomed – with enough flexible variations to enable us to administer a kind of frontier justice, and make it stick if we ever returned home – which I’m sure I won’t. We could solemnize marriages, register land rights, agree divorces, permit co-habitation but protect the rights of the women and their issue…I may be wrong, but I think we’d do a great deal that way to stabilize relationships. As it is, murder could be done here, and no sanctions could be applied against the murderer once he or she was off the island.’

  ‘Who’s talking about murder?’ Charlie Kamakau flopped down on the sand beside them. ‘I feel like breaking a few heads, myself.’

  ‘What’s the trouble, Charlie?’ asked Thorkild.

  ‘That woman of mine!’ said Charlie Kamakau. ‘I just walked over to the waterfall, and there she was, washing herself, mother-naked, with Yoko and Simon Cohen and Franz. I told her I didn’t think it was right for a married woman. She just laughed at me. I hauled her out and slapped her and sent her back to the camp.’

  ‘There’s no harm in it Charlie.’ Thorkild tried to placate him. ‘She’s young and high-spirited. Besides, everyone’s bathing naked now.’

  ‘She was a whore when I married her.’ Charlie was bitter. ‘She’s still a whore.’

  ‘Then let her go, Charlie,’ said Magnusson firmly. ‘Why tear your tripes out?’

  ‘Because she’s mine and I’ll make an honest woman out of her if I have to beat her black and blue – and I’ll kill any man that lays hands on her!’

  ‘That’s bad talk, Charlie.’ Thorkild snapped at him. ‘Bad and dangerous. I’ll have no more of it.’

  ‘She’s my woman!’

  ‘And you’re both my people! You made me a chief. You know what that means, better than anyone.’

  ‘Then you talk sense into her, Chief!’

  ‘All right, I’ll try. Now, let’s go for a swim and cool down.’ He helped Magnusson to his feet. ‘You go back to camp, Carl. We’ll finish our talk later. And break out two bottles of liquor. I think we could all use a stiff drink at supper!’

  That night there were torches round the fire-pit, bundles of fibre, soaked in oil and bound to bamboo stakes. The smoke drove away the insects; the light made a circle of security and domesticity, a wider frontier against the dark that encroached at nightfall on body and spirit. At the end of the meal, Thorkild made a great ritual of pouring the liquor, a single tot for everyone and one tossed into the fire for a libation of thanks to that which was the Beginning, the Foundation of all things. He made the toast:

  ‘To all of us, and to the future!’

  ‘I’d say the future looked pretty bright,’ said Carl Magnusson. ‘I’m only sorry mine looks shorter than yours. With the permission of the Chief here, I’d like to say a few words – and if they’re not the right ones you’ll remember that I’m a cross-grained old bastard who’s lost everything he ever owned and gained himself a family and isn’t too unhappy with the exchange…Well, Chief?’

  ‘You have the floor, Senator,’ said Thorkild with a grin.

  ‘I’ll stand,’ said Magnusson. ‘I think better on my feet.’

  Simon Cohen and Willy Kuhio helped him to his feet. In the glow of the torches he looked like some old warrior, hoary and battle-scarred, but full of strength and dignity. He began slowly, choosing his words with care:

  ‘I want to talk to you about two things: who we are and what we may become. We are a mixed group of men and women, most of us citizens of the United States of America, cast away on an unknown island, off the trade routes. We have, at our disposal, all the means of survival. We have the hope and the skill to build a vessel that will bring us back into contact with the outside world. We have the navigators who can sail it…But this hope brings its own danger for us. It can distract us from the tasks at hand. It can prevent us from perfecting those relationships – of sex, friendship and, let me say it, love, on which our tribal living will depend…As it stands now, because we are outside any jurisdiction of state or law, any one of us could repudiate whatever has happened on this island. Now, if we were all perfect, that wouldn’t matter; but we’re not perfect. We’re jealous, possessive, mismatched in one way or another to the natural harmony…I’m an old man. I’ve lived rough and fought hard. I can tell you these things honestly because none of you can think that I have any claims on you, except for kindness…So, I have a proposal to make: a proposal which I believe would supply a necessary continuity between our past, our present, and the future we hope to achieve. I propose that, as a group of citizens, we annex this territory to the United States of America, and in so doing, place ourselves under its constitution and live under the generality of its laws. If we do this, several things happen. Our children retain the citiz
enship which we enjoy. Our social acts, of marriage and, if need be, divorce, have a legal character. Our individual rights, under a common land tenure, can be adjudicated, if need be. Our elected leaders have an authority beyond dispute…Now, that’s the good side. The bad is that we admit that we are in need of an overriding State and a system, with all its defects, already established. We may provoke contention instead of avoiding it. We will limit our personal choices, and our capacity to conform them, by compromise, one with the other. It may be that some of you, or all of you, want a more flexible society than the one I have described – a more open marriage for instance, a sexual relationship less restrictive and more adapted to the life we have here, so that tensions can be abated more easily and jealousies avoided. I’m beyond all that; so I have chosen to raise the question which must be in your minds. I do not suggest that this question be resolved quickly by a camp-fire vote. I do say it must be settled soberly and after reflection and deep discussion in public and in private…As our old preacher used to say: “Brothers and Sisters, thank you for your patience”.’

  He sat down to a prolonged applause; after which Martha Gilman spoke up, in her jerky, no-nonsense style.

  ‘I’d like to thank Carl Magnusson for saying things that needed to be set in the open…I don’t quarrel with his argument. I see problems in both situations; because, you can’t adopt a set of laws and then abrogate them at will…For instance, under the laws of the United States, private property is sacred, the fruits of labour belong to the individual. We agreed to a completely different system – communal ownership of labour and its fruits. I think we all see that’s right for us; so half the laws made under the Constitution are already out the window – if we had a window!…Now, the other thing, marriage, sex, what you will…I think we owe it to each other to be absolutely honest about that, too. After all, we’re working side by side, all day. We’re trotting around half-naked, we’re bathing and playing together. There are no possible secrets – and I don’t think there should be. There are two married couples. They made their contracts long before they met the rest of us. Peter’s my lover. Sally and the Chief are lovers too…But how exclusive do we want these things to be? How long can they remain exclusive in this kind of group? These things are very personal, I know. They touch intimate areas of our lives – personal feelings, private and public moralities. But this beach, this island, are our world now. We’ve got to run it the best way we can…I’m a woman. I’m the vessel that bears the child, the body that nurtures it. I want to be free to bear a child to the father of my choice. If I want more than one man, that’s my choice too – good or bad. I want to be free to accept or reject for myself. We women talked about these things between us. Whatever happens, we don’t want to be chattels or slaves to a contract that doesn’t bind everybody – because in this community it’s hard to see how it can …’

  ‘Are you saying,’ Charlie Kamakau was glowering and angry, ‘that Willy’s marriage or mine doesn’t mean anything; that we hand over our wives as common property?’

  ‘Not at all Charlie,’ said Martha Gilman calmly. ‘I’m saying that our relationships should be as exclusive or as open as each of us may decide. I don’t want to be invaded and you don’t want to be a stud stallion for any woman who demands to be serviced, whether you like her or not.’

  Surprisingly it was Eva Kuhio who stepped into the argument. She was a big quiet girl, with a slow smile and a meek, compliant manner, that made her the least conspicuous member of the group. She asked:

  ‘Is it all right for me to say something, Chief?’

  ‘Sure, Eva. You’ve got the same rights as the rest of us. Speak up.’

  ‘Well, as Martha says, we did talk about this. I talked to my Willy too. I love him and so long as I’ve got him, I’m happy…But suppose we all pair off, there’s still men left with nobody to love or lie with when they’re lonely. That’s a sad thing for them and a bad thing for us all. I was brought up religious and I still believe what I was taught at school and in Church. But I don’t believe God wants to send any man to prison for life; and I don’t believe any of us women has a right to put him there. So, maybe we all have to loosen up a little and give some loving where it’s needed.’

  ‘I agree with Eva,’ said Sally Anderton.

  ‘I too,’ said Yoko Nagamuna.

  ‘I don’t,’ said Charlie Kamakau. ‘No way! No how! If I wanted to go whoring around I’d have stayed single.’

  ‘We were talking about loving,’ said Franz Harsanyi.

  ‘You’re sailing the wrong tack, Charlie.’ Simon Cohen was patently hostile. ‘And none of us likes to see a woman slapped around.’

  Charlie Kamakau lunged towards him, hand upraised to strike. Adam Briggs and Thorkild wrenched him back to his place.

  ‘Hold it Charlie! This is tribe talk. You give it respect. Say your own piece if you want.’

  ‘Let her say it!’ Charlie Kamakau thrust an accusing finger at his wife. ‘Let her tell you who she’s played with, here and on the Frigate Bird and before that! Let her tell me now, what she wants.’

  ‘Okay then!’ Barbara was on her feet, savage and defiant. ‘You asked for it. Here it is! I’m sick of you Charlie Kamakau! You’re jealous and you slap me around because you can’t do what a man ought to do with a woman. I chase around to get what I don’t get in bed with you. That’s the truth and you know it! So here and now, I’m finished. I don’t want any part of you any more!’

  There was a long, wary silence as they faced each other across the fire-pit. Then Charlie Kamakau laughed, a high animal sound, horrible to hear.

  ‘You say that? You, a waterfront tramp I picked out of a bar? You know why I can’t touch you? You stink! You stink of every man that’s ever had you, every rotten bed you’ve ever been laid on! Okay, it’s finished!’

  He stood up and spat in the fire. Then he swung round to face Thorkild.

  ‘You hear me, Chief. She’s not my woman any more!’

  ‘I hear you Charlie. So be it!’

  Charlie Kamakau turned on his heel and strode away towards the beach. Tioto got up to follow him.

  ‘Leave him to me, Chief. I know how to handle him.

  ‘I’ll bet you do lover!’ Barbara Kamakau shouted at his back. ‘I’ll bloody bet you do!’

  ‘Go to bed, woman!’ said Molly Kaapu wearily. ‘You’ve made enough grief for one night!’

  Later, when the others had retired to sleep, and she walked with Thorkild on the beach, Sally Anderton summed it up in sober, clinical fashion:

  ‘… It’s like a boil. You have to lance it; but it leaves a nasty mess.’

  ‘A dangerous mess, sweetheart. Charlie was stripped down and castrated tonight. How are we going to restore his self-esteem?’

  ‘Only a woman can do that.’

  ‘I doubt any woman will get close to him for a long time yet – if any one would want to after tonight. Goddammit! He’s the most useful man we’ve got, and that little bitch …’

  ‘Don’t blame her too much, my love. She’s had a rough time too. Charlie’s got a violent streak in him.’

  ‘I know. That’s what worries me. I’ll have to work hard to hold his loyalty and get him to see things in perspective. That was a gruelling session tonight, and in the end nothing was accomplished.’

  ‘I think we accomplished a lot.’ Sally was very definite about it. ‘There was a real encounter between us all. Issues were faced and resolved at least in part.’

  ‘Like the women calling the tune, and …’

  ‘And being willing to share themselves. That’s what you wanted to say, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Was the idea repugnant to you?’

  Thorkild shrugged, and gave her a rueful grin.

  ‘No. It’s a part of the old life I understood and approved; but, when I heard you say it – yes, I was jealous.’

  ‘That makes two of us, doesn’t it? I don’t like sharing you. You don’t like shari
ng me.’

  ‘Don’t play games with me, Sally.’

  ‘It’s not a game, darling. It’s a fact of our life with which we’re all trying to come to terms. I have no wish to go necking on the beach here with another man; but – how can I put it – if I thought I could give Charlie Kamakau back his manhood and bring him back into the group again, I’d do it. Would you hold me back?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything any more.’

  ‘Tired?’

  ‘Hungry.’

  ‘What about the land crabs?’

  ‘People are more dangerous,’ said Gunnar Thorkild. ‘Let’s sleep down here tonight.’

  6

  Next morning they woke early, to a lowering sky and an oily sea, and a windless hush that presaged a big blow. Charlie Kamakau and Tioto were already out, fishing the inner reef. Thorkild hailed them and they came paddling in, displaying their catch; prawns and an octopus and mahi-mahi and a big crayfish. He helped them drag the canoe high up on the beach and, while Sally walked back to the camp with Tioto, he himself lingered on the beach with Charlie Kamakau.

  Charlie was calm now and very respectful, but oddly empty, like the biblical man whose devils were purged out, but who found himself lost and lonely without them. He was sorry for the scene he had made, but determined and indeed content that the break between himself and his wife was final and irrevocable. He had a request to make. He hoped Thorkild would grant it.

  ‘… I don’t know how I can say it Chief. I feel better this morning; but I’m all broken up inside. I don’t want to go back there and face all those people, who heard me shamed last night. I don’t want them looking at me and wondering whether what Barbara said is true, and I’m no good with a woman. I am, Chief. I was before I met her, and she started running around, and only coming home to cut me up…Anyway, I want to get away by myself for a while. I’d like you to give me some tools and let me go up and start clearing the terrace.’

  ‘That’s a hell of a job, Charlie.’