Daughter of the Reef (9 page)

“That may be the one I watched,” she answered, recalling her exhausting nights on the sea. She was trembling now, possibly because of the memories ... or the wind that made the whole shelter sway overhead, its lashings and poles creaking.
 

“Here is my plan. We will reach the swarm of atolls in daylight. There are so many that I can surely hit one of them. Then you will recognize where you are and guide me to the one that is your home.”
 

“Yes. I think I can do that. But now it is late, and I would like to go to a warmer place to spend the night.” She stood up, waiting for him to lead her to the house where his family lived.
 

His hand reached up to grip her forearm. The pressure was harsh, unyielding, almost painful. “I told you that ghosts walk tonight. We are safe here. They will not come in under a roof.”
 

“The spirits do not worry me,” she answered, trying to pull free.' 'As we go I will recite a charm that the high priest taught me. Even ghosts respect a chief's daughter.”
 

Tangled-net's grip became fiercer. She felt herself losing her balance and cried out in protest. Now she could not keep from falling...
 

He pulled her down against him, and she tried to fight him off with her free hand. She beat her fist against his firm flesh, striking high and low, but he did not ease his grip. She felt his other hand on her as well, moving her, turning her. Then she was sprawled on her back, with her head against the hard ground and the pressure of his weight on top of her.

“Don't you understand?” she cried. “I am
ta
...
pu
. Sacred to the gods ...”
 

“Your gods are far from here,” he growled as his hands roughly pushed her wrap up to bare her thighs. “And so are your priests.” She heard the cloth rip—a sound that set her teeth on edge—and felt him shift his weight. He had her knees pinned painfully to the ground, and his arm lay heavily across her neck.
 

For a moment she refused to believe what was happening. She had lived too long under her father's protection. She had learned to trust men, without thinking that they held themselves back out of fear—not only of the chief's wrath but of the gods' revenge.
 

She heard Bone-needle's voice shrieking at her, but the warning had come too late. “This is my death,” Tepua said, gasping for air. “And yours as well.”
 

“Quit your babbling, atoll woman. Now you must learn
our
customs. In Tahiti, we do not go hungry when there is food before us.”
 

Outrage drove her into a frenzy of kicking and wild swings, but her blows missed their target. He laughed harshly as he caught first one wrist and then the other, imprisoning both in a single rough-skinned hand. As she strained against his force she stared up into the shadow of his face. Where were the gods with their revenge? How soon before they crippled him with pain?
 

She lay on her back, her eyes burning, her chest heaving, trying to find an answer. Was it true, as some said, that the gods could not protect her so far from home? She felt Tangled-net's free hand slide down her belly and over the hair that covered her womanhood. His fist forced her legs apart and his finger probed...
 

No
! She writhed as she had seen eels struggle on a fisherman's spear. She spat and screamed and threatened him with all the punishments she had heard from the priests.
 

“You are unbroken,” his voice said softly in her ear. His finger had withdrawn, but something else much larger pushed between her legs. His hand and then his knee forced her thighs apart.
 

“Your manhood will die,” she hissed. “It will shrivel and wither when it touches me. Stop now and you will be spared.”

“I have already touched you, chief's daughter, and my manhood only grows stiffer.” His nose and lips brushed her cheek. She thrust her head aside. “In the dark, you cannot see my face,” he said. “If I am ugly, what does it matter?”
 

She felt his fingers opening her for that strong, hard spear. He was pressing, stretching her painfully. She felt helpless, numb. Then fury took the place of fear.
 

She had fought the sea; why could she not fight this man? As he made a harder thrust she felt his grip on her wrists weaken. With a sudden jerk she loosed one of her hands. Finding his sweaty face by touch, she jabbed with two fingers at his eyes.
 

His howl was followed by a fierce blow at her arms. She reached up for another attack on his face, but he would not stay still. Then, with a cry of victory, he rammed himself into her. Her voice could not find breath. All she knew was the agony of torn flesh between her legs. She tried to scream, but her fury was so great that the sound gagged in her throat.
 

A moment later a spasm rocked his body. He pulled himself free and rolled off her, but did not relax his grip on her arm. “It will be better for you the second time,” he said quietly. “Better for me also.” In answer, she kicked him in the belly. It was over. Pain meant nothing to her now. All she could think about was revenge.
 

While he struggled to catch his breath she crawled away from him, colliding with one of the flimsy poles that held up the roof. Overhead, thatch crackled as the whole structure threatened to topple. “Where are you going,
motu
woman,” he gasped. “Did you forget ... what I said about spirits?”
 

Tepua stood up and shook the pole, trying its strength. “The ghosts will not come in here,” she said, her voice so deep and cold that it made her tremble. “Not while the shelter stands over you.” She leaned against the rough pole, and this time felt it bend. If she applied all her weight ... Suddenly, with a snap, the support gave way and she scrambled out to safety. Behind her she heard the creak of stretching cord and rattle of dried leaves as the heavy roof came down. “Now the ghosts can do what they want with you!” She listened with satisfaction to his howls of anguish as she raced into darkness.
 

Her feet seemed to choose the direction on their own. Outlines of trees and bushes rose up in front of her, but somehow moved aside so she could pass. Roots tried to trip her, but she was too nimble. “You can do nothing to me now,” she shouted defiantly to the spirits of the night. “Nothing worse than what Tangled-net has done.”
 

She was heading downhill, toward the beach, she realized. And then she knew what else she was going to do.

The sand gleamed faintly under starlight, and waves lapped the shore with iridescent foam. Tangled-net's canoe was still here, loaded with supplies and ready to be launched. And he had told her that this was the night of thieves!
 

Hastily she made her way along the shore until she found the canoe, a long black shadow in the gloom. She reached inside, felt the rough shells of the heaped coconuts. Good. She would take them as well.
 

She checked by touch for the other things she would need. Paddles lashed to the thwarts. Mast and plaited sail. Ropes. Bailer. Then, for a moment, she paused to wonder if she truly meant to sail home by herself.
 

Rimapoa had warned her against the contrary winds and currents. Even if she could find her direction, she would have to sleep sometimes. And while she slept all her progress would be undone.
 

No. She shook off the doubts. All that mattered now was getting away from this place. She lifted a short log that fishermen used for launching heavier craft and dropped it beneath the boat's bow. Tangled-net could probably drag his canoe into the waves without such help, but Tepua knew that her strength was not equal to his. To lighten the load, she tossed out some coconuts. She placed two more logs ahead of her path, went behind the boat, dug her feet in the sand, and pushed.
 

The strain worsened the pain inside her. She felt warm fluid oozing from between her legs, but refused to stop. She gave another fierce push, her shoulder against the stern of the canoe. The bottom made a hissing sound as it shifted against the sand. Then the boat was up on two rollers and skidding into the lapping surf. One more shove and the canoe was in the water. Shivering with rage and triumph, Tepua climbed in.
 

Putting the outrigger to the leeward side, she sat up and began paddling. She would raise the sail later, she thought, perhaps at dawn when she could see better. She would probably have to wait for daylight to find a safe passage through the reef. But she must get as far as possible from shore...
 

The feeling of cool water puddling about her ankles gave her a moment of dismay. But bailing was nothing new to her. Tepua put her paddle aside, scooped out most of the water, then took up her stroke once again. She went only a short distance, bucking some mild chop, before she realized that the canoe was refilling. Angrily she took up the bailer, but water seeped in almost as fast as she scooped it out.
 

Tangled-net was going to have the last laugh after all, she realized. She had stolen a leaky, worthless canoe!

She yelled oaths to the night sky. What a fool she was! Trusting Tangled-net. Stealing a boat that would sink before she got it out of the lagoon. Now she would have to paddle back and find something better.
 

And what if he came after her? No, dawn was far off, she told herself. Tangled-net would not come out into this haunted night. She peered toward shore, surprised at how far she still had left to paddle. If only the water would stop pouring in ...
 

 

 

5

 

WHEN Rimapoa returned home at dusk and found that Hoihoi had sent Tepua with another fisherman, he flew into a rage. “You let her go off with Tangled-net?” he shouted.
 

Hoihoi met his gaze, unperturbed. “He was willing to take her to her island. What is wrong with that?”

“I do not trust the fellow. If he owned a coconut tree, he would steal nuts from himself just to keep in practice.”

Hoihoi gave a patient sigh and Rimapoa knew that it was not for Tepua but for him. “Tangled-net has a boat and he is greedy for pearl-shell fishhooks. Nothing will keep him from making that journey. And if he never comes back from the atolls, who will weep for him?”
 

Rimapoa lowered his voice. His sister did not have to remind him of the problems that Tangled-net and his family had caused. A quarrel with them had cost Rimapoa his place on the communal fishing canoe. “I would not mind being rid of that rascal,” the fisherman admitted.
 

“Then do not interfere. The two will sail tomorrow at dawn, and we will be free of them.”

Rimapoa did not know how to answer her. Moodily, he turned, pushing aside the mat that covered the doorway, and gazed out at the darkness closing in. He had only been with Tepua a short time, yet he could still feel the touch of her skin beneath his fingers and see her face with the wet hair streaming back. The thought that she might be with another man, possibly even enjoying his company, made the fisherman feel hot and cold by turns. “Tepua should have stayed with us tonight,” he muttered.
 

“So that you could discourage her from leaving? Brother, I know what is in your thoughts.”

He balled his fist. “She is ... like no woman of Tahiti.”

“She is not for you. Do you think you could make her forget those vows she believes in? And what would you want with an inexperienced girl? Worse still, she is so skinny that you can almost see her bones!”
 

His breath hissed through his teeth and he could not reply.

“Tomorrow, brother, come with me to the stream when I go to wash. You will find plenty of riper beauties there. Eager ones. They'll make you forget her.”
 

Rimapoa was still staring out, though the twilight had faded. “She was my guest,” he said. “When she came, the gods placed her where I could find her. Now I am obliged to see that she leaves Tahiti unharmed.”
 

“What of your own safety?” Hoihoi asked in a rising voice as he suddenly stepped out through the doorway. “Brother, guard yourself against the spirits of the night!” But Rimapoa was already hurrying along the path that led to Tangled-net's house.
 

The younger fisherman lived with his uncles and aunts in a group of houses far from the beach. When Rimapoa put his head in the doorway of the largest dwelling, he saw people sitting in a circle and talking quietly. The room was lit by candlenut tapers, made of oil-rich nuts strung on ribs of palm leaf. Puzzled faces turned to stare at him in the flickering light.
 

“Where is Tangled-net?” Rimapoa asked.

“We think he's out somewhere with a woman,” several people answered, making sly winks.

“
Woman
!” Half-delirious from rage and jealousy, Rimapoa turned around. He heard footsteps. A moment later, Tangled-net pushed past him and into the house. Rimapoa caught a glimpse of his face. The skin about Tangled-net's right eye was badly swollen and his expression was full of fright.
 

“What have you done with Tepua-mua?” Rimapoa demanded, following the younger male inside.

Tangled-net refused to face him. “That woman speaks lies,” the younger man whispered hoarsely. “She is no chief's daughter. Any fool can see that. Why should I risk my head and my boat to take her home?”
 

“If you value your head, you will tell me where she is.”

“How do I know? She ran off when I told her I saw through her story.”

Rimapoa grabbed Tangled-net fiercely by the shoulders, thinking he might shake the truth from him, but the family members closed in to protect their kinsman. “You will hear from me later,” Rimapoa growled. In fury he turned, pushing his way through the crowd. He snatched a lit taper from someone's hand and hurried outside.