The Garden of God

by H. De Vere Stacpoole

Nan’s head waggling on its stick became the size of a house full of speech and proclaiming to high heaven that his deityship had taken up forced residence on Palm Tree, that his power and protection had been filched from Karolin, the fecundity of whose women, cocoanut trees and puraka plants would be now a thing of the past.

Beyond the reef and heading south, the wind changed, blowing gently at first, and then steadily and strongly from the north, a favourable wind and a good omen.

The paddles dashed the water to spray and the great sail bellied to the breeze. Evening came, the dusk rose and the stars broke out, and southward still they flew, tireless as the wind, taking no heed of the current. All night long they paddled, whilst the turning dome of stars rotated above them, the Cross and Canopus and the great streak of the Milky Way all moving mysteriously in one piece till suddenly, in the east, like a dropped rose-leaf, came the dawn.

Away ahead lay Karolin, and the paddle men, who had taken a spell of rest, leaving all the work to the wind, resumed their paddles.

As they came through the reef opening, the sun was behind them and broad on the lagoon, lighting the white beach that swept curving away to invisibility, the cocoanut trees, the canoe houses, and the houses of the village; and scarcely had they passed the reef opening than the sands began to swarm, for eager eyes had reported that they had lost a man, and that of the four who had started three only were returning.

Now this canoe was in no wise of importance except for the fact that Sru, the son of the king’s son, was on board of it. Still, it was only one of the fishing canoes of which several that had put out in search of floating turtle were due to put in that morning. It flew no signal of disaster, yet instantly the news was known by this little nation of fishers and hunters of the sea to whom sight was life and swift deduction bread.

Before beaching, it was known that Sru was the missing man, and Laminai himself was standing to meet them as the keel took the sand.

It was Laminai who had tried to dash Katafa to death on board of the Spanish ship; it was Laminai who had killed her mother with the blow of a coral-headed club. Better for him and his sons had he killed the child as well, for Taiofa had gone with her to his death and Sru would never have fallen but for the image of Nan which she had erected to bring the big fish to the lagoon.

Laminai was tall and slight and subtle and exceedingly strong, with a forthright and ferocious expression and a permanent hard double wrinkle between the eyes, eyes that seemed always skimming great distances in search of prey.

Talia, Manua and Leopa, when they saw Laminai standing there with his shark-tooth necklace on his breast, were hit of a sudden by the forgotten fact that this terrible man would most likely visit on them the death of Sru. Visions of being staked out on the reef for sharks to devour drove them half crazy with fright, but not crazy enough to forget Nan as a stand-by.