learn that the life of a professional fisherman was not all that different in the South Pacific it was off the coast of Greenland or England.
The whole of the day's catch was spread out along the beach. There were small sharks, tuna, albacore, stingrays, barracuda, bass, groupers, snapper. Small boys fishing in the shallows had contributed tiny parrot fish and angelfish in a riot of colors, and the repulsive scorpion fish.
Chou Lui was delighted at the sight of these horrible little monsters, puffed up to three times their normal size, poisonous spines projecting. He protested vigorously when Kukuni went to discard them, and explained that he had learned in Japan how to prepare this poisonous fish as an exquisite delicacy.
There was an enormous feast in the village that night. It seemed the generosity of the ocean must be celebrated by eating every morsel that could possibly be consumed, and the meal went on for hours. Casca had not seen anybody eat so much since the orgies of ancient Rome. One huge fish after another was brought in and consumed, while banana-leaf platters of smaller fish passed around and around. Nobody, it seemed, could leave until all the fish were eaten. Casca could see how the older people in the village attained such enormous size.
Ulf was amazed when he realized they were going to sit and eat until every last fish was consumed.
"Vy don't you just bickle de surplus?" he asked through a mouthful of fish.
"What is bickle?" Semele asked.
Ulf burst into laughter, spraying the air with half- chewed fish.
"Vot iss bickle? You don't know bickle?"
Semele shook his head.
"You put the fish in vinegar to keep it," Ulf mumbled through another mouthful.
"What is vinegar?" asked Dukuni.
"Oh, yeah, no vinegar," mumbled Ulf. "Well, you can use lemons."
"Lemons?"
"No lemons? Well, we can use saltpeter and water. Is too hard to explain. Tomorrow ' show you." He crammed some more crab into his mouth.
Just when Casca was convinced that he could not possibly eat another mouthful and would have to commit the unpardonable social affront of refusing food, Chou Lui appeared from the direction of the cooking house.
He was bearing a huge banana leaf laden with fish, and was followed by two women with similar leaves. He delightedly explained that this was the poisonous scorpion fish, carefully cleaned and prepared as he had been taught in Japan. Casca thought that he could have cheerfully strangled him.
But the succulent fish soon made him change his mind.
Not only did he enjoy the fish, but it restimulated his appetite and he was able to continue with the feast.
At last every fish had been eaten, every bone picked clean, and attention was turned to the serious business of the night—the conversation as the bilo of kava passed around the room.
When Casca sought to divert the conversation to the topic that most concerned him—the likelihood of a renewed attack on the village, the response was delighted laughter.
If yesterday had already disappeared from the ken of these people, tomorrow was similarly out of sight.
The imminent threat of a murderous attack by Cakabau's musket-armed men had quite passed out of mind. The world was at peace, every belly in the village full. The gods were smiling. If there was a worthwhile topic of discussion, it could only surely be the building of the new temple.
All around the room one speaker after another dismissed Casca's concern and told and retold the story of the battle with the attackers from Lakuvi. Dukuni, the fisherman chief, told of the excellent use made of the captured Lakuvi canoes. Sonolo, the war chief, boasted of the number of war clubs abandoned by the fleeing enemy. Sakuvi, the farmer chief, predicted great crops of fruit and vegetables from the trees and plots of ground gained in the victory.
Each speaker retold the entire story of the battle, but not as if it were a real event that had happened only a few days ago. The battle was already a legend, and its
The whole of the day's catch was spread out along the beach. There were small sharks, tuna, albacore, stingrays, barracuda, bass, groupers, snapper. Small boys fishing in the shallows had contributed tiny parrot fish and angelfish in a riot of colors, and the repulsive scorpion fish.
Chou Lui was delighted at the sight of these horrible little monsters, puffed up to three times their normal size, poisonous spines projecting. He protested vigorously when Kukuni went to discard them, and explained that he had learned in Japan how to prepare this poisonous fish as an exquisite delicacy.
There was an enormous feast in the village that night. It seemed the generosity of the ocean must be celebrated by eating every morsel that could possibly be consumed, and the meal went on for hours. Casca had not seen anybody eat so much since the orgies of ancient Rome. One huge fish after another was brought in and consumed, while banana-leaf platters of smaller fish passed around and around. Nobody, it seemed, could leave until all the fish were eaten. Casca could see how the older people in the village attained such enormous size.
Ulf was amazed when he realized they were going to sit and eat until every last fish was consumed.
"Vy don't you just bickle de surplus?" he asked through a mouthful of fish.
"What is bickle?" Semele asked.
Ulf burst into laughter, spraying the air with half- chewed fish.
"Vot iss bickle? You don't know bickle?"
Semele shook his head.
"You put the fish in vinegar to keep it," Ulf mumbled through another mouthful.
"What is vinegar?" asked Dukuni.
"Oh, yeah, no vinegar," mumbled Ulf. "Well, you can use lemons."
"Lemons?"
"No lemons? Well, we can use saltpeter and water. Is too hard to explain. Tomorrow ' show you." He crammed some more crab into his mouth.
Just when Casca was convinced that he could not possibly eat another mouthful and would have to commit the unpardonable social affront of refusing food, Chou Lui appeared from the direction of the cooking house.
He was bearing a huge banana leaf laden with fish, and was followed by two women with similar leaves. He delightedly explained that this was the poisonous scorpion fish, carefully cleaned and prepared as he had been taught in Japan. Casca thought that he could have cheerfully strangled him.
But the succulent fish soon made him change his mind.
Not only did he enjoy the fish, but it restimulated his appetite and he was able to continue with the feast.
At last every fish had been eaten, every bone picked clean, and attention was turned to the serious business of the night—the conversation as the bilo of kava passed around the room.
When Casca sought to divert the conversation to the topic that most concerned him—the likelihood of a renewed attack on the village, the response was delighted laughter.
If yesterday had already disappeared from the ken of these people, tomorrow was similarly out of sight.
The imminent threat of a murderous attack by Cakabau's musket-armed men had quite passed out of mind. The world was at peace, every belly in the village full. The gods were smiling. If there was a worthwhile topic of discussion, it could only surely be the building of the new temple.
All around the room one speaker after another dismissed Casca's concern and told and retold the story of the battle with the attackers from Lakuvi. Dukuni, the fisherman chief, told of the excellent use made of the captured Lakuvi canoes. Sonolo, the war chief, boasted of the number of war clubs abandoned by the fleeing enemy. Sakuvi, the farmer chief, predicted great crops of fruit and vegetables from the trees and plots of ground gained in the victory.
Each speaker retold the entire story of the battle, but not as if it were a real event that had happened only a few days ago. The battle was already a legend, and its
Similar Books
