“Woman’s blood in husband’s body make you one always.”
Then to the man, the Chief admonished: “Every girl come now and touch her body to your body. If you do not desire them when they touch you, your choice of wife is good. You have woman good for you.”
He beckoned to a group of the youngest and prettiest girls in the village. One by one they sidled up to the groom and in the most alluring and sensuous manner, they let their bodies caress his. The groom stood with his eyes averted, unmoved. It was a triumph over temptation, and that was the signal for the tom-toms to burst into an exotic rhythm, as the married pair walked hand in hand down to the lagoon. There is a tribal custom on Atafu that every newly married couple walk hand in hand up to their necks in the waters of the lagoon, they cleanse themselves together, and when they have done that, their marriage is consummated before the eyes of all.
When the last couple was married, the festival was over, and dancing, singing and feasting lasted long into the night. I had forgotten all about time, the water barrels and Father’s order to come right back to the ship. By the position of the moon I guessed it was about four a.m. A frightened cry from a native running up from the beach broke in on the revelry. Wildly he pointed to the ship off shore. The truck driver who never had much to say at any time laconically observed:
“The Old Man’s sending up flares from the vessel. Guess he thinks a cannibal swallowed you whole.”
I was in for it and I knew it. I could feel my hind part tingling in anticipation of what was going to happen when Father got his hands on me.
“Let’s beat it back to the ship, Swede. There won’t be a barnacle left on my bottom when Father catches me.”
“Yeh? Well, what’s your hurry, how you going to get the water barrels back?”
I knew I’d catch hell for staying ashore, but to come back minus a life boat and no fresh water was suicide.
“Say, Chief, will you lend me an outrigger and a couple of men to bring it back, so I can get back to the ship?”