Daughter of Destiny (8 page)

Now she sat in this lovely shelter telling Bible stories to
the children in their language. When memory failed, she communicated with them
through signs and thus learned something new from the people.

“Lady Leah.” Little Tekai tapped her knee to get her
attention, a gesture that brought gasps from the other children and the
mothers. Islanders risked death for touching their chief, and Leah’s exalted
status could make touching her just as lethal.

Suni, Tekai’s mother, reached toward her son, but Leah
laughed and tousled the boy’s hair. The woman pulled back, her eyes round with
wonder, and the children giggled.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m just like you.” Leah looked around
the group and then back at the youngest son of Chief Fénua. “What do you want,
Tekai?”

“Another story from your holy book.”

Leah’s heart warmed. “Which story shall I tell?”

“The story of Ru and Anu.” Tekai reached out to touch the
Bible, but his mother clicked her tongue, and he withdrew his hand and wrinkled
his nose.

Leah opened the scriptures and found the page in Genesis,
but she interpreted instead of reading to her eager audience, for they would
not understand the English text. She had learned in her early weeks that the
biblical story of creation and of Adam and Eve had many parallels in Fénuan
creation folklore. At first the children insisted on correcting her version,
and Leah felt dismayed. But soon they began to mingle the two accounts, and she
could see God’s hand at work when some of the people acknowledged her names for
the original man and woman.

Perhaps now that the island had been visited by a different
race of men, they could begin to see the broader scope of God’s creation and
their own place in it. Even the village priest admitted that men who could
build such large ships as
Destiny’s Hope
must be powerful indeed and their
words worthy of consideration.

Leah wondered how the old man would react when more white
men came, as surely they would, with guns, diseases, and treachery to corrupt
this peaceful paradise. Indeed, if not for intervention from Captain Swain and
the Hillermans, some of the sailors would have done serious damage to the start
of her mission work. She must hasten to build a spiritual wall of protection
around their souls. But the stories unfolded slowly as she told them, in the
daytime to the women and children and in the evening to the men. How long would
it take to help them understand their sinful nature and their need for a
Savior? Only He could protect them.

That night, fears for her newly adopted people and her own
feelings of inadequacy caused tears to slip down her cheek and fall on her
cushioned pallet bed.

“Oh, Jonah, I need your wisdom, and these people need your
seminary training. There is so much I do not know.”
If any of you lack
wisdom, let him ask of God. . .and it shall be given him.
The verse from
the Epistle of James swept into her mind, and she rose from her bed, knelt, and
poured out her petition to the One with power to answer. In bed once more, she
wondered if she had made an idol of Jonah just as the islanders seemed intent
on making a god of her.

True to the nature of a close-knit village, someone must
have heard her weeping. In the morning, she was summoned to Chief Fénua.

“Lady Leah.” The tall, massive chief met her outside his
grand, thatched house and nodded his graying head with respect. “It has come to
my attention that while you smile in the daylight, you weep in the dark.”

Leah noticed that the chief still would not look at her
face. Perhaps her blue eyes startled him as much as her red hair. She followed
custom and did not give a quick response. After a few moments, she said, “That
is true, but I. . .”

Fénua held up his large brown hand to silence her. “You are
lonely. You must have someone to share your home with, yet it must be someone
who is worthy.”

Leah bit back a laugh, for laughing would have been a
grievous offense. Instead, she waited, and a tight knot grew in her chest.
Would she be forced to marry?

“My eldest son will be chief after me. His only right
consort is my eldest daughter. But my second son is a mighty warrior.” Fénua
paused and lifted his chin with pride. “He has climbed the volcano.” A
remarkable feat indeed, Leah knew.

Lord, give me wisdom. How do I decline without insulting
him? And how can I teach them that incest is a sin?

“Lady Leah, a woman must not live alone. Will you take a
husband of my people?”

“I am honored, Chief Fénua, but I must decline. My husband
will come from the sea.” The sea? Why on earth had she said that?

Fénua stared into her eyes for the first time, and his gaze
bored into her as though he would conquer her with a look. But then his eyes
widened and he appeared to grasp some important concept. “Ah, yes. From the
sea. How fitting. Perhaps mano, the great shark. Perhaps ocua, the great whale.
Yes, your husband must come from the sea.”

He bowed again and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Then he drew in a quick breath and frowned.

Leah wondered if he still feared that she might have some
magical powers. She gave him a broad smile and a slight curtsy and, following
custom, backed away until she had reached the outer circle of his yard.

In her own hut once more, she laughed to herself. A husband
from the sea? What nonsense. Even if Captain Swain returned, she would not
marry him, for then she would have to leave this beautiful island of lost
souls.

***

Jonah took an extra watch in the crow’s nest of the Nantucket whaler. The captain told him the previous evening that they should reach the
right coordinates for Fénua today or tomorrow. Heart in his throat, Jonah saw a
thin string of smoke on the horizon. Was it another whaleship with burning
try-pots? Or was it a volcano?

“Smoke, ho,” he called down to the captain, who nodded and lifted
his glass.

“Land, ho,” the captain shouted.

In his excitement, Jonah nearly fell out of the crow’s nest
when another man arrived to take up the watch.

“Easy, laddie.” The Scotsman who had pulled him from the
ocean over three months before clapped him on the shoulder. “If you fall and
break your neck, we’ll have no excuse to visit the island.”

“Thank you, Andrew.” Jonah clung to the ropes and eyed his
friend. “Now don’t forget what I told you about that.”

Andrew’s face wore an exaggerated look of dismay. “Aye,
laddie, but it canna’ be a sin just to look at the lovely lassies, can it?”

“But remember that Jesus said you’re not to look at them with
lust in your heart.”

“By me mother’s haggis,
mon
, you’re asking me to gi’
up being human.”

“Not at all,
mon
,” Jonah said. “Just obedient to the
Lord. It won’t be easy on this ship. But just as surely as you saved me from
drowning, God has saved you from eternal death. Now you must live for him among
these unsaved men.”

“Aye, laddie, sure as sunshine, He’s saved me. And if He
can take the drink out of a Scotsman like me, He can take the lust from my
heart.”

“That’s the fellow.” Jonah smiled, then scrambled down the
ratlines and found the captain in his quarters, the door wide open. The tall,
black-haired Nantucketer puffed on his pipe and wrote in his log. At Jonah’s
knock on the door jamb, he looked up and beckoned him into the cabin.

“Captain, may I consider myself a passenger from this point
forward?”

The man studied Jonah for a moment. His dark eyes gave no
hint of his thoughts. Then he nodded curtly. “You may.”

“Sir,” said Jonah. “If you recall, I worked extra shifts to
buy the right to require that the men stay on board when we come near the
island.”

He gave a mild snort. “That you did.” His tone was
non-committal.

Jonah bit his lip. This was not the time to make an enemy of
this austere man.

The captain stood to his full height, well over six feet
tall, and looked down at Jonah. “I am a man of my word, preacher. I will keep
our bargain.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jonah knew he was grinning like a child
as he emerged from the cabin. He hurried to the crew quarters and gathered his
few possessions—clothing, tools, and Leah’s necklace, all of which he had
bartered for. He took his leave of the crew, some with more regret than others,
for most had, like their captain, utterly rejected the gospel.

On deck again, Jonah realized the island was so close he
could swim to it. People gathered on the shore, and some were putting a long
boat into the water to greet the ship.

“Say, preacher,” called one whaler. “If they come on board,
does that mean our bargain ain’t no good?”

“Not if you’re a man of honor, Bobby.”

His response brought a riot of laughter from the other crew
members. “He ain’t never been accused of honor, preacher,” cried one man.

“Avast!” the captain shouted. “A promise is a promise.” He
surveyed his crew and then leveled his dark stare on Jonah. “But that does not
mean we cannot sail over to Tahiti before going back around the Horn.” The men
gave up a raucous cheer.

Jonah felt his heart sink. He could not protect the women
of every South Pacific island from these men, but at least those on Fénua would
be safe.

The captain stepped near and offered his telescope. “Do you
want to see if she’s there?” His soft tone surprised Jonah.

“Yes sir. Thank you.” He grasped the glass and held it up.
On the silver beach, perhaps two hundred people had gathered, their attitude
clearly one of welcome. As he scanned the crowd, a bright flash caught his
attention.

Leah! Her long, blazing red hair blew in the wind, and her
lovely green dress fluttered like a standard welcoming him home.

Jonah burst into tears, caring nothing for the startled
whalers around him. Until this moment, he had not been certain she was alive.

“Thank God. Oh, thank You, God,” he choked out. “Now let me
make it all up to her.”

***

Leah watched with concern as the whaleship sail closer
until it anchored just outside the reef that protected the island. She had
persuaded Chief Fénua to send out only one boat of men and not to let any of
the young women go out with flowers to greet the newcomers. Why had this ship
chosen Fénua? Was it too late to save the women, who were still very confused
about her attempts to discuss morality? She knew all the young girls would
gladly offer whatever hospitality the men wanted, for that was their custom.

“Lord, protect them from their own ignorance.”

“See, Lady Leah.” Suni, Chief Fénua’s youngest wife, stood
near. “Only one man is coming ashore.”

Leah held her hands above her eyes, wishing for her bonnet.
The sunlight that glistened on the calm waters within the reef played tricks on
her vision. The man who now stood in the returning longboat looked just like. .
.Jonah?

Her knees turned to jelly, and Suni caught her before she
sank to the sand. “Lady Leah, what is it?”

“M-my husband.”

“Ah. So the sea has sent you a husband, after all. We did
not believe your words, Lady. Please forgive.”

“Hmm? Oh, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Jonah! Thank You, merciful Father, thank You that he’s
alive. Please, please help me to earn his love.

Her prayer pricked her soul. How foolish. She did not have
to earn anyone’s love. God loved her freely. And although now it made her
blush, she knew Captain Swain’s sincere attentions proved she was a lovable
woman. She exhaled a determined breath. Just let her get her arms around Jonah.
If it upset him, he would just have to cope with it.

Almost as if she were a bird, Leah flew into Jonah’s arms
even before he reached the shore. This time, he did not pull back or shove her
away, but held her tightly and cried, mingling his tears with hers as together
they waded through the surf toward paradise.

“Are we supposed to eat that?” Jonah leaned close to Leah
and whispered in English so Chief Fénua would not understand. “It looks like a
rotten fish head.”

“It
is
a rotten fish head, my dear. Fénuans consider
it a delicacy.” Leah tried not to laugh at the disgust written across her
husband’s face. “They buried it many weeks ago so it would be ready for our
celebration, and they dug it up today. The sandy soil seasons it—cooks it
something like our cured ham.”

Now Jonah looked as if he might be ill. “I will not eat
it.” He glanced toward the chief, and his expression turned to entreaty. “Must
I eat it?”

Leah gave in to her laughter. “I don’t think we have to.
But you will have to eat the breadfruit and shark fins.”

“I believe I can manage that.”

“Lady Leah,” Suni approached the circle of celebrants with
a wriggling bundle. “Your daughter is hungry.”

Leah reached out to receive her month-old infant. “Thank
you, Suni.” She flung a light blanket over her shoulder and prepared to nurse. Then
she glanced at Jonah, whose expression of paternal joy was tempered by his
disapproval of feeding the baby in front of the villagers. Although the child
had begun to fuss, Leah struggled to her feet. “I’ll be back soon.” She was
rewarded by a beaming smile from her husband.

***

Jonah watched Leah leave the group, and he noticed the
perplexed expressions on the faces of those around him. Suni said something in Fénuan,
and everyone laughed. Jonah felt his face grow warm, but he smiled and
shrugged. Over these past ten months, he had found a good sense of humor an
important asset in winning the people’s friendship. Learning their language was
another essential, and he made many mistakes. To his credit, Chief Fénua had
forbidden anyone to laugh at Jonah’s errors, for the chief could see how hard
he tried.