Читать книгу The Far Lands - James Norman Hall - Страница 8

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On the eastern side of Kurapo were three valleys. The one in the center was occupied by the village of the Tongans. The other two were unpeopled, and in the one to the north the Tongans built the war canoes required of them by Vaitangi as the price they must pay for permission to live on Kurapo. Téaro, Maui’s father, was the first of the master builders; those next to him were the chiefs, Tuahu and Tavaké. After them came two of the raatira, Rangi and Manu. The skilled artisans worked under the direction of these men.

They took no pleasure in this work but built well because the love of ships was in their blood and they could not do otherwise. The boys of the clan who showed greatest promise served as apprentices. Maui, Faanui and Ma’o were among these. They were taught early to keep in mind that the time would come when the Tongans would again build great voyaging ships in which to sail on the quest for the Far Lands of Maui. Rangi, who was the father of Ma’o, was the principal instructor of the apprentices. Under his eye the boys made models of the migration ships, perfecting their knowledge and workmanship in this manner.

Rata was a younger brother of Téaro, Maui’s father. He was a man of divided mind and no true worshiper of Tané. He had come to believe in the greater power of Koro, and his secret hope was that the Tongans might be led, little by little, to think no more of the quest for the Far Lands of Maui. Nevertheless, he was loyal to his own blood and had no desire to see the Tongans conquered and merged into the clan of the Koros. He feared Puaka, the priest of Koro, and he knew as well as did the other Tongan ariki that the priest was the bitter enemy of their clan. Rata resented being second in authority to Téaro, but his feeling was carefully hidden. It was always in Rata’s mind that, if the Tongans should one day be able to leave Kurapo, seek and find some other land eastward in the Sea of Kiwa, and if Téaro should die or be lost on the voyage, as had happened to many Tongan chiefs in the past—then would he, Rata, lead the Tongans away from the worship of Tané to that of Koro. He was intelligent, forceful and persuasive in speech, and fully trusted by Téaro; but Hotu, mother of Rata and Téaro, was disturbed by suspicion of her son’s secret disloyalty. She kept her own counsel, for at this time she was not willing to admit even to herself that such a thing could be.

The story tells of a day when Rata came to the place where the war canoes for the Koros were building. Rangi and some of the artisans were resting there, sheltered from the midday sun; no others were working on that day. Two great canoes—one sixty, one eighty feet long—were shored up at the entrance to the valley. They were to replace others lost by the Koros on their last expedition against their enemies on the islands to the north. Rata walked slowly around these ships, examining their workmanship. He then came to where Rangi sat with Manu and their helpers. Paoto, one of the ariki, was there as well.

“You have never built better,” said Rata. “These are noble ships.”

“If we could work badly our shame would be less,” said Rangi.

“Why should you feel shame?” asked Rata. “Building for the Koros is a small price to pay for living in this rich land of Kurapo.”

“Are we never again to build for ourselves?” Manu said. “Eight years we have lived here, serving Tané with our hearts, but forced to give the skill of our brains and hands to Koro. It is a miserable fate for us Tongans.”

Paoto spoke. He was a chief little respected by the Tongans for he was timid by nature and would take the easiest way in all things.

“Would Puaka, their priest of Koro, permit us to build for ourselves?” he asked. “Never! We were compelled to convert our own ships to war canoes for the Koros and no chance will be given us to build others. In these eight years Puaka’s power has increased until we may well say that it will soon equal that of Vaitangi himself. We must have patience.”

“Paoto is right,” said Rata. “The service of Tané is no easy one; who should know that better than ourselves? Five hundred of our people were lost in the last great voyage. Unknown thousands of our ancestors have suffered the worst of deaths by starvation and thirst at sea; those swallowed up in great storms were to be envied beside them. It is because of his pity for these sufferings that Tané would have us rest long between voyages.”

“On lands already peopled, where Koro is worshiped?” Rangi said.

“Tané is but one of the gods,” Rata replied. “He takes what means he can to give us rest on the long and weary search for the lands he has promised.”

“Why would Tané have the search so long?” one of the artisans asked. “It seems to me that his promised Homeland will never be found.”

“How could it be otherwise?” said Rata. “Lovers of peace are few and their strength is small compared with that of the lovers of war. The Homeland promised by Tané must be so far, so lost in the Sea of Kiwa, that only those who never despair will be able to reach it. Generation after generation the search must go on—and thousands sacrificed for the good of those who may, some day, reach it.”

Rangi glanced up quickly. “ ‘May’?” he said. “Do you doubt, Rata, that the Homeland will be reached?”

Rata was silent for a moment. “No ... I do not doubt,” he said; “but it is a weary way we Tongans have come. How many generations have passed since the quest began? But we must cling to hope. Generations are as days to the gods; Tané will bring us to the end of the quest in his own time.”

“But ... surely it cannot be Tané’s wish that we stay here much longer.”

“Our ancestors in other lands to the west have often waited for generations,” said Paoto. “We live here untroubled. Say what we may of the Koros, they are a friendly people.”

“Puaka, their priest of Koro, friendly?” Rangi said, grimly. “If he could have his way we would have been driven into the sea long since, with no means of escape. Vaitangi alone stands between us and that danger. If he should die we would soon know the bitter taste of the friendship of Puaka and his warriors.”

“Parau mau! There is truth in that,” said Manu. “All the younger chiefs of the Koros favor him.”

No one spoke for a moment; then one of the artisans said: “Rata, tell me this. I am only a man of yeoman stock. I do not profess to know the deep purposes of our god, nor anything of his nature, but this is his most holy precept as taught us by Métua, our beloved priest: that all human life is sacred. Men shall not kill. That is true?”

“Métua says it is,” Rata replied.

“Then we live here at a shameful cost,” the other replied. “We Tongans are spared from sacrifice because the Koros find their victims among their enemies on the islands to the north.”

“You object to that?” Rata asked. “You would prefer that men of our clan should be taken?”

“No; but it cannot be the design of Tané that we should rest content here. He teaches us to believe that all human life is sacred, even that of men who do not worship him.”

Rata got to his feet, prepared to go. “Is it for you to fathom the designs of Tané?” he asked. “Only Métua, our priest, can do that, and perhaps not even he. The gods themselves must make exceptions to their laws.” With that he left them, followed by Paoto, and the men resumed their work.

“Paoto believes as Rata does,” said one of the men. “We must have patience.”

“Who cares what Paoto believes?” said Manu. “Respect is due to his birth, but as a man he is as worthless as a rat-eaten coconut. He has no courage.”

“But Rata is a man of intelligence,” another replied. “He sees there is nothing we can do for ourselves at this time. We are few and powerless. He wishes us to be content and abide what the future may bring.”

“And why should we not be content?” asked a third. “If matters go no worse for us than they do now, the Far Lands of Maui can wait. I have no wish to search for them.”

“Rangi, what is your opinion?” Manu asked.

“It is not for me to judge Rata,” Rangi replied. “He is the chief next in authority to Téaro himself; but never before have I heard him speak as he has today. My belief is that the less we listen to him in the future the better Tongans we shall be.”