Date: Wed, 17 Aug 1994 08:45:21 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "(Nancy Cleveland)" Subject: Aloha Chapter 2 (p 13-18) "We're a long way from France, and your well placed friends have no way of knowing what happens out here." The Captain had glared at him, his pale blue eyes squinting from his red, sunburned face. "You just swallow that bilge, or you'll find yourself on the block in Jamaica, too. Or swimming with the sharks." Duncan had talked to other members of the crew, then, surreptitiously feeling out the sentiments of those few he had sensed a glimmering of morality in, and been roughly rebuffed. All the crew had been promised a share of the profits, as a way to cement their support for the scheme, and to keep them off the bodies of the captives. They watched one another like hawks, eager to preserve the value of their wares. And so he stood by, sick with misery, as the happy, laughing Islanders were lured aboard the ship, with promises of a tour of the nearby islands, or just to see the ship itself, and were jumped, beaten and led in chains to the lower hold, hidden from the next unsuspecting group to follow them aboard. Duncan considered swimming ashore, to warn the Islanders of the slavers' intent, but he had no way to communicate with them, knew nothing of their languages and customs, and the First Mate watched him closely whenever they were near land. Since raising his objections to the Captain, he was confined to his cabin every time they first approached a new island, to keep him from even trying to disrupt the plan. Duncan began to take water to the hold where the Islanders were chained, claiming it to be part of his "duties" as supercargo, to the Captain, and overcoming the hostility of the guards by offering them smuggled pints of rum for their trouble in having to open the hatches to him twice a day. He learned a few words of the native's language. Enough to be moved to pity and to make him commit to helping them. And enough to communicate his intent to a few of them, whom he hoped would help him with the escape he planned. The night his ship was to leave the third island, by far the largest one they'd set down at, he vowed to free them. He was in the hold, at midnight, cutting through the leg irons of the first man, the other crew members on board passed out drunk from doped wine he'd offered them, when the Captain and his slaving team returned. They were early. Normally they stayed the night, and they'd caught him unawares. In a short brutal fight the six of them had beaten him unconscious, slashed his throat and tossed him overboard, food for the sharks. The ship pulled up anchor and was far away before Duncan came to his senses. Lucky for him, no sharks had come looking in the mean while. < Maybe Immortal blood doesn't taste good?> When he was able, he'd swum to shore, unsure what reception he'd get once on land. The family of the chief, Lananuka, had welcomed him. According to Lananuka, a hard eyed, tall and grizzle-haired older man, the village believed the ones who had left with the boat were going on an adventure, to travel to other islands and see the world. At least that was the chief's official line, as he'd looked at Duncan, his sharp eyes testing Duncan for his reaction. Duncan, allowed to stay in the village only at Lananuka's word, wearing borrowed clothes from Lananuka's son, eating in Lananuka's home, sleeping in a borrowed hut that had belonged to Lananuka's wife's brother, had kept silent, pretending to not understand the question, if indeed it was one. When Duncan got to know the people in the village better, and understood more of their language, he discovered that several persons with claims on the throne, or who'd been in conflict with Lananuka or his advisors, had all 'coincidentally' been in the group that had left with the ship. He still wasn't sure if the chief understood entirely what he'd done, as they had no concept of slavery in this island culture. But he wondered. He didn't feel secure enough in his suspicions, if they were even strong enough to be called that, to challenge Lananuka's decision openly. And as for talking quietly with other folks, there were still plenty of relatives of the departed, left in the village, and he didn't want to start an intra-tribal war, either. And then there was Koanchati. Beautiful, bold and laughing Koanchati. Koanchati, Lananuka's only daughter. So he'd kept quiet, and courted her, salving his conscience with the promise that if another ship returned, he'd speak out. After all, why should they believe an unknown castaway. Now, he was a man of status in the village. A betrothed man. With a brilliant, respected, and loving woman who was to become his wife.. All he needed were children, tumbling around his feet, to secure his position. Of course, that would never happen. Not unless Ko... but no, that was unthinkable. But right now, he had another, more immediate problem. Manuiala. Son of Lananuka, brother of Koanchati. Angry and resentful at Duncan's romantic conquest of his sister and the cautious but growing friendship with his father, Manu had been spoiling for a fight for weeks. Perhaps there was more to Manu's jealousy than Duncan had initially understood. this was becoming a distinct possibility in Duncan's mind, < Manu's relationship with his sister is far different than I understand or expect, based on my own culture, my own values. > He was only learning slowly just how different custom and culture could be, here on these islands. < Perhaps Manu and Ko had been lovers?> He didn't want to examine the idea too closely, but he'd seen others, other couples who were clearly intimate and had been tied that close by birth as well as love, since he'd arrived here and learned more of the village and its people. He'd heard it whispered about, when he'd been in Scotland. Incest. A taboo, in his own land. But not so, here. He'd never had a sister, never knew what it was like to be attracted to someone of his own blood, from the same shared womb. Certainly they were well matched. Manu shared the the sharply chiseled features, the sensual and sculpted lips, the long limbs, clean, well muscled build and utter ease in his physical being that had so attracted Duncan to Ko. He also shared her quick wit and sharp temper, and that wit and temper had been pointed at Duncan almost since the day he'd arrived. Duncan's every stumbling attempt to learn a new word, understand a concept or idea, to speak in slow, awkward sentences, had been greeted by patience, smiles and assistance, from most of the other villagers. Not so Manu. He mocked Duncan's accent, his mispronunciations, his ignorance of village custom and behavior, at every opportunity, loudly, and in public, gathering the other, more impressionable men and boys around him in a circle of jeering faces, as they discussed the latest idiocy of the white skinned fool from the ship. At first, Duncan hadn't realized what was happening, he knew too little of the language and of what ordinary behavior on the island was. But it was impossible to miss the intent when Manu secretly tripped him as he worked with the other men to build a hut, then pointed and laughed at the sprawling Duncan, calling him a clumsy child, that he was not fit to be considered a man. < Not fit to wed Ko.> That seemed to be the underlying message, to Duncan's ears. The other names Duncan wasn't sure of, but he could hardly miss the acid in Manu's tone when he spoke of Duncan and Ko in the same phrase, linking their names in scorn and mockery only. There were other incidents as well, some involving other villagers, some goaded to harass and tease Duncan by Manu, others just taking advantage of a chance to torment someone with no real way to fight back, at least short of violence. Duncan studied the language harder, determined to learn how to communicate clearly, to win these people as friends, before they were all turned into his enemies. He didn't know how long he'd be on this island. According to the chief, the ship he had come on was the first in more than 20 years. And before that, there had never been one, not in the oral traditions of these people's history, at least. It could be a very long wait, and he didn't want to spend it hiding in the jungle. He wanted to spend it with Ko. Manu's attacks had backfired, if he'd meant to separate Duncan and Ko. She'd been intrigued by the pale man who'd been following her, talking to her in sign language, bringing her small gifts of woven flowers, choice fruits, and asking her to tell him what each was called, stumbling awkwardly over the simplest words,and laughing with her at his ineptness, but persisting stubbornly until he mastered them, then sharing his delight with her in a flashing, brilliant smile. Men's admiration was nothing new for Ko. Men followed her everywhere. Her father had refused more than twenty suitors for her hand already, indulging his only and favorite daughter in her choice. None of those rejected admirers had attracted her, stirred her. None were even close to Manu, none could match his quick, biting wit,his charm, his quick understanding and empathy for her every mood, his physical attractiveness. She had the most handsome, the funniest and the brightest man in the village to compare them to, one who worshiped and indulged her in every way, one she had known all her life, intimately, and the others just didn't measure up. Until Duncan, that is. He had been different. Ko couldn't hold him to the same standards as the others, he was from another world, the exotic, unknown west. The mysterious land from beyond the great sea.That alone was enough to pique her interest, to spark her curiosity, and Manu's increasingly obvious attacks on Duncan just made her more interested in him, in helping him to learn so he could stand and speak in his own defense. Manu hadn't counted on Ko's sense of justice, her strong belief in fairness, coming to Duncan's aid. And the more Manu teased and tormented Duncan, hoping to show his beloved sister how stupid and ignorant the pale skinned outsider was, the closer Ko and Duncan became, as Ko saw herself in the role of teacher, then defender, then friend, then lover. She had gone to her father, to tell him who she would choose for her mate. She had chosen Duncan. Lananuka had not been overly pleased, initially, but as he thought on it, he had agreed. Matters of policy made it far easier to have an outsider for a son in law, then another challenger to his throne. Manu's succession would be guaranteed, this way. Ko explained it all to Duncan, later, telling him how lucky he was that he had no relatives, no land, no claim to royal blood. "I know now he probably would have sent me to another Island for a mate, if you hadn't come first." She grinned. "You know how much I love this place, my home. .You've been the way I can stay here, and still have a family." She snuggled closer, nuzzling his chest, then tickling his stomach with quick sharp darts of her tongue. Duncan pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her as she murmured, "I can hardly wait to have children. I wonder who they'll look like." Duncan held her tightly, his passion suddenly cooled by the realization that this woman would never have children with him. Ko had only smiled when Duncan told her they could never have children. She had touched his lips with hers, and told him to hush. She would have children, she insisted, and they would be accepted as his. He'd understood, and agreed. This was the only way he could keep her, and still live with himself. So the wedding was on. But first, there were the feasts. Duncan had discovered, during his brief time on the island, that the villagers loved to have a party. Feast and festivities were held at the drop of a coconut, so to speak. Life was easy, food was plentiful, the climate was mild and the villagers gave thanks, regularly, to the gods who smiled on them so fondly. The upcoming marriage of the most eligible woman on the island was certainly something to be celebrated fully and Wawamahanee, Ko's aunt and female guardian since the death of her mother several years before, had planned a series of celebrations that would stretch out for several weeks. It was a long betrothal, but Duncan and Ko didn't care. In their minds, they were already married, already man and wife. So to in the minds of all the villagers, who smiled at them as they disappeared together into their hut, or into the forest for long lingering idylls on the sun dappled ferns. Smiled, that is, except for one. Manu was not happy. Duncan saw him constantly watching, felt his glowering, baleful stare following him almost every moment as he went about his daily activities in the village. He wasn't sure how to bring it up with Ko, not sure if he wanted to hear from her lips what he suspected already in his heart. She had just laughed at him, the first time he'd tried to discuss his concerns, his nameless, uncertain fears for her and their future, that he felt in his gut Manu was threatening. She'd tossed her long silken hair and laughed, clear and loud and joyously. "My sweet silly brother? Manu will get over this, He's just pouting, just being silly. He'll come around. You'll see. Don't worry so, Duncan. He loves me. He won't stand in our way, once he understands this is what I want. I'll talk to him. Don't be concerned." Duncan didn't share Ko's easy certainty that Manu would ever accept him. But then, she knew him far far better. Far longer. He watched, and hoped, and tried to avoid antagonizing the man. Manu had come up to him at the first of the betrothal feasts, a smile on his face, his hand out and open in what Duncan thought was finally friendship, and acceptance. Duncan had taken Manu's hand, and found himself sprawled on his back, Manu's knee on his throat, his contorted face glaring down at him with unmistakable hate. The other guests had pulled him off, helped Duncan to his feet, held the two of them apart as Manu spat out the words that Duncan could not ignore. Words calling him "not a man" and not fit to wed or bed a woman of the village. Ko had pulled him aside then, urgently, and told Duncan that he must defeat Manu decisively or all the other disappointed suitors would think he wasn't man enough to hold her and would challenge him one by one until he was utterly worn down. He and Duncan had fought, wrestled in traditional island style, sweating and grunting in the sand, rolling into the water while every villager who could walk or hobble or crawl followed them, encircling the fighters in a large, irregular ring, calling out encouragement, or derision, clapping and exclaiming, as the combatants struggled on the sand. Duncan still could see the killing rage in Manu's eyes, as they'd grappled for holds on each other's throats. Duncan had won, he'd choked Manu to unconsciousness, the only way he could get the man to give in. He'd wondered, even then, if Manu had been the victor, if he would have stopped at taking Duncan's consciousness, or if Duncan would have awakened at his own funeral, instead. Manu's pride did not recover even after the bruises from the fight were fading. He'd been the strongest man in the village, and the best fighter. Now he was second, and it rankled at him every day. He sought refuge from the sting of defeat in the bottle. When the bottles ran dry, and it would be very soon, Duncan didn't' t know what Manu's next escape would be. But he wasn't looking forward to it. Not at all. The island was too small to move to another village, there were no other villages, it was leave the island, or confront each other every day. Manu didn't seem to want to leave the island and leave his place as heir to the chief. Duncan wondered how long the two of them could remain, the sullen resentment growing stronger in Manu every day. And every day, as his wedding to Ko grew closer Manu's behavior grew more erratic, more out of control. The snoring stopped. Manu sat up, his eyes focusing on Duncan's form, sharpening as he made out the features of the man before him in the dim green light filtering through the jungle canopy. "You." The word held a universe of emotion, an endless depth of hate. Manu's fingers tightened on the bottle and suddenly he threw it, directly at Duncan's face. Startled, Duncan barely blocked its flight, the heavy glass impacting on his forearm, and shattering. Breaking glass..... Duncan blinked. The wino had dropped his bottle of Ripple. The tinkling crack of glass brought Duncan back to the present. The same problems, still persisted. Men insisted on destroying themselves, for drink, for women, for gold, for power. Nothing had changed, only the costumes and the actors. The plot was the same. The yammering of the inner voices had subsided. Duncan felt more relaxed, more secure in himself than he had since Kassmir's death. He knew who he was. He knew what he had been. Reliving his own past helped affirm and strengthen his certainty, his identity. He glanced at his watch. Raven should have had enough time to get his ticket by now. Duncan stood, stretching. He slipped a $10 under the wino's slack fingers.The man snored, uncaring. Duncan picked up his bag and walked slowly into the terminal. This was going to be tricky. He didn't like being unprotected, but there was no time to arrange any alternative. He bundled his extra passports into the envelope and addressed them to his drop box in New York. No sense in carrying them around now. He found a postage machine and pulled enough stamps to ensure first class priority mail. They'd be there before he was, at this rate. He glanced around, and found the mail box, right next to the pay phones. Good, he had a few calls to make, too. Dawson, Ritchie....he paused....he'd almost included Tessa on his mental list. Hard to break the habits of 12 years. Damn hard. =========================================================================