empty," Tamatoa mused. "Suppose there are no women. We would watch our friends set their feet upon the rainbow, one by one, and each man as he left would be forever irreplaceable. There would be no children." "Will you take a wife?" Teroro asked.
"I will take none of my present wives," the king replied. "I'll take Natabu, so that we can have royal children." "I'll take Marama."
The king hesitated, then took his brother by the hands. "Marama may not go," he said gravely. "We will take only women who can bear children."
"I would not want to go without Marama," the younger man said. "She is my wisdom."
"I am sorry, brother," the king said with complete finality. "Only women who can bear children."
"Then I won't go," Teroro said flatly.
"I need you," the king replied. "Don't you know any young girl to take?" Before Teroro could reply, the flaps parted and his uncle,
50HAWAII
old Tupuna of the white topknot and the flowing beard, came into the palace. He was nearly seventy, a remarkable age in the islands, where a man of thirty-three like the king was already an elder, so he spoke with exceptional authority.
"I come to my brother's sons," he said gravely, taking a seat on the matting near them. "I come to my own children."
The king studied the old man carefully, and then said in a low voice, "Uncle, we place our safety in your hands."
In a striking voice mellowed by years and wisdom Tupuna said, "You're planning to leave Bora Bora and want me to join you."
The brothers gasped and looked about lest any spies should have lingered, but the old man reassured them. "All the priests know you're planning to leave," he said benevolently. "We've just been discussing it."
"But we didn't know ourselves until we entered this room an hour ago," Teroro protested.
"It's the only sensible thing to do," Tupuna pointed out.
"Will you join us?" Tamatoa asked directly.
"Yes. I told the priests I was loyal to Oro, but I could not let my family depart without an intercessor with the gods."
"We couldn't go without you," Teroro said.
"Will they let us take Wait-for-the-West-Wind?" the king asked.
"Yes," the old man replied. "I pleaded for that in particular, because when I was younger I helped consecrate the trees that built this canoe. I shall be happy to have it my grave."
"Your grave?" Teroro asked. "I expect to reach land! Somewhere!"
"All men who set forth in canoes expect to reach land," the old man laughed indulgently. "But of all who leave, none ever return."
"Teroro just told me that you knew sailing directions," the king protested. "Somebody must have returned."
"There are sailing directions," the old priest admitted. "But where did they come from? Are they a dream? They tell us only to sail to land guarded by the Seven Little Eyes. Perhaps the chant refers only to the dream of all men that there must be a better land somewhere."
"Then we know nothing about this journey?" Tamatoa interrupted.
"Nothing," Tupuna replied. Then he corrected himself. "We do know one thing. It's better than staying here."
There was silence, and then Teroro surprised the king by asking, "Have they agreed to let us take our gods, Tane and Ta'aroa?"
"Yes," the old man said.
"I am glad," Teroro said. "When a man gets right down to the ocean's edge . . . when he is really starting on a voyage like this . . ."
He did not finish, but Tupuna spoke for him. He said, in a deep prophetic voice, "Are there people where we go? No one knows. Are there fair women? No one knows. Will we find coconuts
FROM THE SUN-SWEPT LAGOON
51
and taro and breadfruit and fat pigs? Will we even find land? AH that we know, sons of my brother, sons of my heart, is that if we are in the hands of the gods, even if we perish on the great ocean, we will not die unnoticed."
"And we know one thing more," the king added. "If we stay here we shall slowly, one by one, be sacrificed, and all our family and all our friends. Oro has ordained it. He has triumphed." "May I tell the
"I will take none of my present wives," the king replied. "I'll take Natabu, so that we can have royal children." "I'll take Marama."
The king hesitated, then took his brother by the hands. "Marama may not go," he said gravely. "We will take only women who can bear children."
"I would not want to go without Marama," the younger man said. "She is my wisdom."
"I am sorry, brother," the king said with complete finality. "Only women who can bear children."
"Then I won't go," Teroro said flatly.
"I need you," the king replied. "Don't you know any young girl to take?" Before Teroro could reply, the flaps parted and his uncle,
50HAWAII
old Tupuna of the white topknot and the flowing beard, came into the palace. He was nearly seventy, a remarkable age in the islands, where a man of thirty-three like the king was already an elder, so he spoke with exceptional authority.
"I come to my brother's sons," he said gravely, taking a seat on the matting near them. "I come to my own children."
The king studied the old man carefully, and then said in a low voice, "Uncle, we place our safety in your hands."
In a striking voice mellowed by years and wisdom Tupuna said, "You're planning to leave Bora Bora and want me to join you."
The brothers gasped and looked about lest any spies should have lingered, but the old man reassured them. "All the priests know you're planning to leave," he said benevolently. "We've just been discussing it."
"But we didn't know ourselves until we entered this room an hour ago," Teroro protested.
"It's the only sensible thing to do," Tupuna pointed out.
"Will you join us?" Tamatoa asked directly.
"Yes. I told the priests I was loyal to Oro, but I could not let my family depart without an intercessor with the gods."
"We couldn't go without you," Teroro said.
"Will they let us take Wait-for-the-West-Wind?" the king asked.
"Yes," the old man replied. "I pleaded for that in particular, because when I was younger I helped consecrate the trees that built this canoe. I shall be happy to have it my grave."
"Your grave?" Teroro asked. "I expect to reach land! Somewhere!"
"All men who set forth in canoes expect to reach land," the old man laughed indulgently. "But of all who leave, none ever return."
"Teroro just told me that you knew sailing directions," the king protested. "Somebody must have returned."
"There are sailing directions," the old priest admitted. "But where did they come from? Are they a dream? They tell us only to sail to land guarded by the Seven Little Eyes. Perhaps the chant refers only to the dream of all men that there must be a better land somewhere."
"Then we know nothing about this journey?" Tamatoa interrupted.
"Nothing," Tupuna replied. Then he corrected himself. "We do know one thing. It's better than staying here."
There was silence, and then Teroro surprised the king by asking, "Have they agreed to let us take our gods, Tane and Ta'aroa?"
"Yes," the old man said.
"I am glad," Teroro said. "When a man gets right down to the ocean's edge . . . when he is really starting on a voyage like this . . ."
He did not finish, but Tupuna spoke for him. He said, in a deep prophetic voice, "Are there people where we go? No one knows. Are there fair women? No one knows. Will we find coconuts
FROM THE SUN-SWEPT LAGOON
51
and taro and breadfruit and fat pigs? Will we even find land? AH that we know, sons of my brother, sons of my heart, is that if we are in the hands of the gods, even if we perish on the great ocean, we will not die unnoticed."
"And we know one thing more," the king added. "If we stay here we shall slowly, one by one, be sacrificed, and all our family and all our friends. Oro has ordained it. He has triumphed." "May I tell the
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