Chapter 23

Mr. Wembly was coming up from the engine room when he found Yani peering anxiously down the stairwell. He was trying to see past the door that concealed the roaring diesel engines. “What are you up to, Yani, old boy? Is something puzzling you?” he said, reading the expression on the young man’s face.

“Yani try to see Kilibob,” was his simple answer.

Thinking the name was a Booga-booga word for a power source, Wembly said, “Only authorized people are allowed in the engine room. Sailor-fella and Captain only ones go into ... what did you call it? ... Kilibob room.”

“Can Yani see Kilibob?” Yani asked, eagerly.

The restrictions on who could enter the engine room were intended to prevent accidental sabotage of the engines by people who knew nothing about them. Well, thought the Patrol Officer, if the boy has developed an interest in mechanics, it can’t hurt to let him see how things work.

“Okay, Yani,” he smiled, “just this one time. But you no go in when I’m not here.”

He led the way to the door and opened it to the din of the churning twin-diesels. He raised his voice over the noise, and said, “These engines make the Wombat fly across the water.”

The racket hurt Yani’s ears, and the vibrations frightened him. This noise was worse than the Witman’s big egg that carried them to Heaven. He watched the two crewmen doing mysterious things to the behemoths, like wiping them and turning valves. Looking around at the cramped quarters he finally asked, “Where Kilibob?”

Believing he understood the question, Wembly responded, “This Kilibob!” With a grin, he pointed with pride at the mammoth engines.

Yani was amazed, and thought, Wait until I tell Ooma that I have seen Kilibob in a magical shape like nothing anyone has ever seen before on the island. There is no end to the power Kilibob has and the things he can do. I wonder if Manup is able to become such a wonderful creature.

The Chase Islander addressed the diesel engine in his native language, and asked if he planned to stay on the island when they got there. However, the motor continued to drone on without changing its pitch, indicating it did not wish to communicate with Yani at this time.

When Yani recognized the situation, he thanked Kilibob for his attention, and went to the door. Once they were in the relative quiet of the stairwell, Yani observed, “Kilibob have much power.”

“Yes,” said Wembly. “They were made in Germany and are fine-tuned machines. We’re not sure what their actual maximum horsepower is.”

***

“Chase Island off the starboard bow, Mr. Wembly,” Gale announced in British naval style. “According to the charts there’s no way the Wombat can enter its lagoon.”

“Percy!” Wembly called to the stern where the two natives were talking. “Would you come forward, please? We’re in sight of your island, but we need your advice on how to get ashore.”

The islanders came onto the bridge where a rather crude, hand-drawn chart of Chase Island was unfolded on a table. Yani had only a passing acquaintance with Witman maps, but Percy seemed to understand them very well. He explained the map to his young friend, who quickly learned the correlation between the island’s volcano, the lagoon, and the fresh water lake that covered the interior of the flat plain on which the tribe lived. In all, the island was ten miles across from east to west, and slightly longer on the other axis.

The key to landing was breaching the coral reef that created the three-mile-long, shallow lagoon that ran roughly north and south. The two natives discussed the projected location of the opening in the coral reef, with Yani having a more recent recollection of its whereabouts. Percy had not been home in ten years but felt not the least apprehensive about returning. A shaman was always welcomed back to his island, regardless of how long he was gone.

“Entrance here,” Percy said, pointing to a spot on the sketchy outline of a reef. “The Wombat cannot fit through. We put dinghy in water and row to shore.”

“Well, let’s start loading our supplies into the dinghy and get going,” McDuff said, his exuberance getting the best of him.

“I think not,” Gale said. “We had better send Yani and Percy in first to pave the way.”

“Leslie’s right,” Wembly agreed. “Don’t forget that Yani was kidnapped by white men, and they might attack us before we have a chance to explain what’s going on. What do you think, Percy?”

“I think Mr. Gale is correct,” he said again exhibiting his English vocabulary to emphasize his status in this situation. “Sun is past the high point now. It is better to begin changes when the sun rises tomorrow. It is island custom.”

“Yani and Negeb go now in boat?” the younger man said.

“Who?” said McDuff.

“That’s his island name,” Gale said. “We call him Percy as his English name. It’s best for him to reestablish himself with the tribe today, before we go any farther.”

“Sort of the Prodigal son returning,” McDuff commented. Wembly went out on deck to direct the lowering of the small boat by the natives. Once they had it in the water, Yani and Negeb stripped naked. They took nothing with them. It was another island custom. In spite of himself, McDuff found his thoughts dwelling on the question of whether their prominent sex organs were indicative of a Neanderthal heritage. If so, Homo Sapiens had been short-changed by evolution.

***

The approach of the Wombat was detected almost as soon as it appeared on the horizon. No one had visited Chase Island since the Salvation had carried Yani away. A wave of uneasiness spread among the people, remembering the last unpleasant visit of the Witmen. A quickly assembled council of elders determined that no one would go down to the beach to greet the visitors. Instead, a war group armed with bows and slender, barbed arrows would hide itself at the jungle’s edge. Anyone who stepped onto the beach would be a perfect target for the warriors in the bush.

Ooma and the reception party stayed in the dark shadows of the palm trees. He was surprised to see the little boat go directly to the break in the reef, alerting him that there was something slightly different in this arrival.

___

Out on the lagoon, in the dinghy Yani and Negeb discussed their situation. “No one comes to the beach,” Negeb said. “That is not good. They are afraid that the Witman has come to do them harm. Maybe Ooma no longer lives. Maybe they cannot see we are sons of Ooma,” he said pointing to the shaman tattoos on their chests.

“I think I see movement among the trees at the edge of the beach. They are waiting to see who we are,” Yani said.

Negeb thought for a bit, then said, “When we beach the canoe, each of us will hold the paddles above our head. This will show them we have no weapons. While you hold the paddle over your head, I will gather shells to make a circle in the sand with them.”

“Yes,” Yani said. “When you finish the circle, you hold the paddle over your head and I will gather driftwood for a fire in the center...” Suddenly, Yani faltered and looked frightened. “We have no means of making fire.”

Negeb laughed. “Have no fear. If we are not already dead, they will bring a torch from the village fire to signal their willingness to talk with us.”

____

Ooma and his men watched the two men beach the boat. Their actions were the proper ritual requesting a conference with the island’s Big Man, and Ooma’s heart beat a little harder than normal. Crazy notions ran through his head. No. It cannot be. It is clear that the men are not Witmen, but how could they be whom they appeared to be. It would take unbelievably strong magic to bring one of them back, but two of Ooma’s sons at one time would be impossible. It must be one of the Witman’s tricks.

When the circle in the sand was completed, driftwood was stacked in the center. Within the circle of shells, the two men sat cross-legged and motionless facing the jungle. Several very anxious warriors calculated that they could hit both of them with arrows in a matter of seconds if Ooma gave the signal.

Ooma worried that these were evil spirits who had gone to a lot of trouble to take the form of two of his sons. If they captured his spirit, then they would make short work of the rest of the village. After watching them sit without moving a muscle for half an hour, Ooma finally shouted a command. “Bring fire from the village, and light the center of the circle.”

The tension broke and a cheer went up from the crowd, but no one dared to advance to the beach until the protective firebrand arrived. Ooma took the torch and walked boldly to the circle. It took all his willpower to keep from smiling as he entered the circle and set the stack ablaze.

Negeb and Yani stood up as soon as the fire was lit, and Ooma threw the torch into the flames. They positioned themselves in front of the old man and he put each of his hands on their chests. When he felt their hearts beating, he knew they were not spirits. All three men fell into a group embrace and burst into tears. Their joy was so great that they continued weeping for a good fifteen minutes before anyone spoke. Meanwhile, the entire village gathered around them, respectfully observing the ring of shells and staying outside.

Once the initial emotions subsided, the three men sat at the cardinal points, leaving North vacant as a seat for benevolent ancestral spirits to protect the circle. Ooma was the first to speak. “How is this possible?” he asked.

Yani was quick to explain how he had been dragged on board the Salvation by Captain West, and proceeded to recount all of his adventures as any son might to a beloved father.

Ooma asked him, “Did you find Kilibob?”

“He is on the Witman boat,” Yani reported, with a nod out to sea. “I spoke to him this morning, but he will not come to the island.”

Negeb’s eyes widened. It was against all custom to speak anything but the truth within a talking circle, so Yani must have had an experience he had not discussed with him. Furthermore, it was not their practice to deny what another said in the circle without a life and death challenge. He let it pass as a spiritual experience Yani had not mentioned but was certain he would have seen Kilibob if he were on board.

“I have not brought Kilibob home, but I have brought a powerful bis with me. His name is Big Man Duff. He is a Witman, but we have nothing to fear from him. I am able to control him. I learned two Witman languages. I have learned many powerful word chants from him. One is called ‘Sheepy-sheep’ and the other is ‘Our fadda.’”

Ooma was very interested. “What can one do with such magic chants?”

“One can call Witman ships full of the blessings of Heaven,” Yani boasted.

Yani had used English words in his response, and the old man wasn’t sure what he meant. In an effort to clarify his meaning he said, “When the Witman says ‘the blessings of Heaven’ he means steel knives, axes, and tinkens. I have learned from the Witman bis how to call ships. I helped him to bring one to the island where we lived. It was full of blessings. The magic chant is more powerful than anything even Kilibob or Manup can do.”

Negeb bit his lip. His knowledge of the Witman’s world in his persona as Percy was struggling greatly with Yani’s accounts. He knew that there was more to getting manufactured goods than just praying for them. He wanted to argue the point, but did not dare dispute Yani’s perception of the Witman’s power under the circumstances.

The younger man’s description of his adventures in Brisbane, calling it Heaven, were painful, but Negeb did not want to create any disturbance because he had his own message to deliver to Ooma when it was his turn.

Finally, Ooma turned to Negeb and asked him for an accounting of his years of absence. His ten years away from Chase Island were full of the usual abuse black islanders experienced virtually everywhere they went. However, through a series of unlikely events, he wound up as the head Policeboy in the Patrol and now had more status with the Witman than any other native.

Ooma was not sure he was impressed. Negeb’s stories of how he had gained the Witman’s confidence seemed to be through the oppression and betrayal of his black brothers. Ooma knew that while the South Sea Islanders did not see themselves as being united, they did share a common enemy — The Witman.

“Then if he is our enemy, how can you be so friendly with him?” Ooma questioned. “If he is our enemy, then you must kill him.”

“I have learned much about the Witman and his ways. If I kill any Witman, I will be killed. It takes planning to defeat an enemy as powerful as the Witman. Like Yani, I can speak his two languages. The Witman will believe almost anything I tell him. He does not believe Negeb can think. He calls me Percy, and thinks I am a fool. In my Patrol uniform I can go anywhere, speak to anyone. I tell my island brothers that a great day is coming, when we will have all things the Witman has and we will have guns, too.”

Both Yani and Ooma were riveted by his tale. Yani never suspected that there was such a dark side to Negeb’s nature. “I have been saving my message for our father, Ooma,” Negeb said somewhat sternly.

“And what is that message, my son, Negeb?”

He leaned toward the fire and said in English in his best conspiratorial tones, “John Frum, he come.”