Children of the Sun

CHAPTER ONE

‘I name this great ocean, Mar Pacifico.’

Ferdinand Magellan, 1521

1567

The dark-eyed, light skinned girl who stepped from the grass hut into the twilight was naked except for a bright yellow flower placed just above her temple in her waist-length hair. She looked to be very young, barely an adolescent, but she carried an air of maturity well beyond her apparent years and her body had already swollen and blossomed into full womanhood.

The hut was one of many built in the shade of a grove of tall palm trees, not far from a pristine white beach surrounding an emerald green lagoon. Usually the area around the huts was a hive of activity but now it was all but deserted. An hour earlier, when the sun had slipped down behind the island’s lofty volcanic peak, which still sometimes belched smoke and fire, the villagers had left their homes to gather around blazing fires on the beach and await the arrival of the island’s principal chief or ariki.

The little community lay on the south-eastern shore of the rugged island of Mara and was more easily accessed by sea by visitors from other villages on the island. Already most eyes were looking seaward trying to catch an early glimpse of the ariki’s great catamaran. Everyone chattered excitedly as they waited, all anxiously hoping to witness the union of the village’s highest-born female who had been offered in marriage to the eldest son of the ariki. And everybody was looking forward to several days of feasting and festivities which, if the match proved to be successful, would follow the wedding ceremony.

The delighted squeal of a child, the first to see the girl emerge from the hut, alerted the villagers to the imminent arrival of Princess Naomi. Instantly, a hush fell over the beach and with only the sound of palms rustling in the breeze and the muted roar of waves breaking over the lagoon’s fringing reef, all eyes turned from the sea to watch her walk down to the water’s edge.

The light was fading rapidly as Naomi passed through the crowd, flanked by two female attendants who had combed her long hair until it shone and polished her firm young body with coconut oil until it gleamed. She held her head high as she walked, slowly and regally, and with no shame of her nakedness to a semi-circle of senior elders seated cross-legged on the sand. Once inside the semi-circle, where the wedding ceremony would take place, Naomi’s attendants withdrew and she was obliged to stand alone to await the arrival of the ariki and his son.

She stood facing out to sea. According to tradition, her eyes were closed and her arms were held high and open wide, a symbol of the blind, willing acceptance required of any virgin offered in marriage to the first born son of the ariki. Naomi’s outstretched arms ached so fiercely that she was afraid she could hold them up no longer when at last one of the elders broke the silence.

‘Open your eyes woman, Tumara comes.’

Naomi looked out to sea. It was dark now, but a rising moon already made the waters of the lagoon sparkle. She strained her eyes. At first she saw nothing except intermittent flashes of white foam as waves broke over the reef. Then she saw a glow in the night sky above the breakers, signaling the approach of the ariki’s great canoe. Soon she could see the high prows of the vessel’s twin hulls slicing through the water and then the rows of glistening muscular bodies working in perfect unison to propel the craft swiftly in towards the shore. Stationed at the corners of the huge catamaran were torch bearers, lighting the night for a dozen or more members of the island’s lesser nobility who accompanied the ariki.

It wasn’t until the craft was almost at the shore that Naomi saw the outline of a tall man standing outside the light of the torch bearers. He stood apart from everyone else on an elevated platform near the bow. Although Naomi had never laid eyes on him before, she knew the tall man must be Tumara. She trembled. For the son of the ariki not to stand on the deck of the catamaran with his father among the high ranking entourage meant Tumara’s mana, the innate supernatural and superior powers of all first born male royalty, must be very potent indeed.

The elders on the beach rose to their feet as the canoe gently skimmed onto the sand. The torch bearers were the first to disembark. They quickly formed two lines between the vessel and the elders semi-circle, then the ariki and his retinue stepped ashore and walked down the torch-lit corridor to form a full circle with the elders. Then young girls began laying a thick carpet of palm leaves in the corridor, knowing that if Tumara walked barefoot on the shore, then rejected the virgin bride the village offered him, his powerful mana would pass into the sand as he returned to the canoe, making the islanders’ beach forever taboo.

When the carpet was laid, Tumara jumped down from his pedestal and strode ashore. Like all young males on the island he was light skinned, tall and muscular, with curly brown hair. But a handsome face and a strong square jaw set him apart from many of his peers. Like Naomi, he appeared to be very young, no more than a boy, but he carried himself with the confidence and authority of a much older man. His strapping body was clad only in loincloth fashioned from soft paper bark and a shoulder cape made from feathers of tropical birds. Around his neck he wore a string of long whale teeth and below them in the centre of his chest hung a huge lump of solid gold.

Every head on the beach, except the ariki’s, was lowered in respect of Tumara, but all eyes except Naomi’s were on him as they watched him appraise Naomi and awaited his verdict. Custom dictated she could not look upon his face until he allowed her to do so and only then if he accepted her as his bride. She trembled again at the very nearness of him as she stared into the sand at her feet. She felt her breath quicken and saw her chest begin to rise and fall. Then she shuddered when she felt his hands upon her, first on the smoothness of her thighs then gently sliding over the contours of her hips, and upwards over her belly and breasts, before finally coming to rest, one on each of her cheeks.

There wasn’t a murmur on the beach. This was the moment everybody had been waiting for. Everyone held their breath. Then wild cheering broke out as Tumara raised Naomi’s head and gently kissed her cheek in the ancient symbol of acceptance. Then he moved quickly to cover her body with an elegant sarong made of finely plaited leaves and feathers.

The wedding ceremony began immediately and lasted almost two hours. First, five fatted pigs were brought into the circle and slaughtered one by one in sacrificial rituals. The first four were offered to the islanders’ four principal gods: Tangaroa, god of the sea, Rongo, god of the land, Tane, god of light and maleness, and Tu, the god of war. The fifth animal, and the largest, was sacrificed to the sun god. It was the sun which had guided the tribe to Mara nearly a hundred years before, when invaders had slain the ariki’s father on their original island homeland far to the east and forced the tribe to put to sea in search of a new island to call home. It was for Tu, the god of war and the holy island of Mara that Tumara had been named.

With the gods satisfied, the most senior elder turned to uniting the couple in marriage. He entered into the first of many chanting dissertations, thanking past high born generations for delivering the strong young bodies and minds of Tamura and Naomi who would now assume the responsibility for the continuity of the aristocratic lineage on the island. When he had finished the lengthy incantations, the elder sealed the union by anointing the foreheads of Tumara and Naomi with blood from the sacrificial pig slain in the name of Mara. Then he proclaimed them to be man and wife.

The feasting and celebrations followed immediately. A wide range of fish and an abundance of piglets and chickens, all wrapped in palm leaves, were baked in pits dug above the high water mark and fueled by hot ash from the beach fires. Baked alongside the succulent fish, foul and pork, were huge quantities of yams, sweet potatoes and taros and other leguminous crops which the islanders of the South Seas had cultivated as staple food for centuries. To round off the repast there were mountains of sweet tropical fruits. For the youngsters the food was washed down with the prized juice of unripe coconuts, while the adults drank Kava, a potent ceremonial alcoholic drink brewed from the leaves of a pepper plant. Later the sound of drums filled the night and traditional dancing began.

As the evening wore on, many of the islanders were presented to the newly-weds in the village council meeting hall, a large pole framed structure with a thatched grass roof and a soft matted floor woven from coconut palm leaves. The well-wishers were received formally and in order, according to rank and importance. The gifts they gave were graciously accepted then carried away to the great canoe which would transport Tumara and Naomi home to the ariki’s village the next day.

It was almost midnight before the demands of tribal protocol had been satisfied and Tumara and Naomi were able to retire to a bridal hut built especially for the consummation of the marriage. As tradition demanded, it was set apart from the main village and on higher ground and bedecked with garlands of flowers inside and out. As they walked they heard a low growl from the mountain and looked up to see a reddish glow in the sky above it. Tumara smiled. Even the volcano had chosen to join in the celebrations. When they stepped hand in hand from the moonlight into the blackness of the hut, the fragrances in the air were almost overpowering.

Naomi removed her sarong and lay down on a deep bed of tapa, a soft unwoven cloth made from the bark of paper mulberry. In a second Tumara was lying naked beside her. She had prepared herself for him to take her immediately without love or tenderness and spread her legs compliantly. But instead, Tumara’s fingers traced the outline of her face in the darkness.

‘You are more beautiful than I ever imagined, Naomi,’ he said softly.

Her lips parted in a smile he could not see.

‘I am so glad you are pleased, my husband,’ she breathed.

After a few moments of touching and whispering he entered her so gently she practically felt no pain at all, and afterwards, she held him to her so tightly she could feel the beating of his heart against her breast.

*

Naomi was sleeping like a baby when the first streaks of dawn appeared. Tumara had not slept at all. During the hour that had passed since their love-making ended, he had lain awake in happy contentment awaiting the dawn, when, as was his duty as the son of the ariki, he would kneel and face the east to pay homage to the rising sun. And he would give thanks to the gods for allowing his people to live in the peace and plenty the island provided, and as always he would pray that never again, would warring tribes from across the sea seek to dispossess them.

As the reddish hue on the eastern horizon intensified, sending shafts of light high into the sky extinguishing the remaining stars, Tumara kissed Naomi gently on the cheek, then rose and slipped from the hut. When the sun lumbered up out of the sea a few minutes later, Tumara was kneeling on a ledge high above the village often used by the islanders for ceremonial purposes. His eyes were closed and his head was bowed in a solemn act of reverence he had performed every morning for decades, ever since he had been old enough to assume his responsibilities as the ariki’s first born son.

When at last he opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly. He looked down at the beach below. It was beginning to come alive. Children were already running around playing. Young men were recharging the dwindling fires with more wood and women were taking more food to the ash pits in preparation for another day of feasting. The ariki’s great canoe lay high and dry on the sand. Tumara grinned. There would be time for him and Naomi to join in the revelry for a few hours before the tide came in and floated the catamaran.

As he turned to leave the ledge, he happened to glance fleetingly out over the ocean. Something far out to sea caught his eye. He looked again. At first he couldn’t believe his eyes. What he saw was a giant canoe. Even so far off he could tell it was much wider and many times taller than the catamaran on the beach. He strained his eyes. Suddenly he caught his breath and his heart began to pound in his chest when he saw a second giant vessel come into view behind the first.

CHAPTER TWO

The two tall ships had set a course toward the island the day before, when telltale clouds high on the horizon had suggested that land may lie beneath them. The vessels had steered toward the clouds until dusk, then set and held a compass course through the clear moonlit night that followed. Around midnight, lookouts high in the rigging saw what looked to be the glow of a fire far away in the night sky. Then, when dawn broke, a sea bird swooped down from the sky and perched in the lower yards of the leading ship, a three hundred ton carrack named Los Reyes.

The black shag’s arrival didn’t go unnoticed by the vessel’s youthful master, or by the white haired Franciscan friar standing beside him on the quarter-deck. Both men knew the fires and the bird heralded the end of a long, arduous, and almost mutinous voyage. Word spread quickly through the ship. Now, with landfall imminent, the belligerence of her crew, which had been mounting for weeks as the vessels sailed ever westward with no sign of land, suddenly evaporated.

An hour later, the clouds on the horizon lifted and an island with a high volcanic peak became clearly visible. Wild cheering broke out amongst the crew and the two men on the quarter-deck, too choked with emotion to speak, embraced each other and openly wept. Eighty days out of Calleo, the seaport of Lima, ‘the City of the Kings’ and centre of power in Spanish Peru, Captain Alvaro de Mendaña and Friar Alphonso Mendez, the voyage’s spiritual mentor, humbly gave thanks to God. When they drew apart, Mendaña walked alone to the ship’s rail and looked out over the gently heaving sea.

About a mile astern, he saw the second vessel in his expedition, the 100 ton caravel Todos Santo and knew her captain would be rejoicing also. The little ship was commanded by Pedro Sarmiento, a soldier, who after the conquest of Peru, had his imagination fired by Inca legends of magical islands across the sea which had been visited by an Inca chieftain a century before. The legends told of lush fertile lands, of clear mountain rivers filled with gold, and friendly natives who welcomed seafarers with open arms.

Sarmiento became convinced the far off islands must be part of another even older fable, the legend of Terra Australis Incognito, ‘unknown southern land’ which philosophers had insisted for a thousand years must exist in order to prevent the great land mass of Europe and Asia from toppling over. In the preceding seventy years, seagoing explorers like Columbus, Cortez, Vasco da Garma and Ferdinand Magellan had claimed a whole new world for Spain, stretching from the Americas to the Philippines, and a trading route had been opened up across the great ocean between them. But no man had ever ventured south of the established sea lane between Mexico and the Philippines into the vast unknown ocean in which the great southern continent was said to lie.

Over the years, Sarmiento’s interest became his obsession. Eventually, he successfully prevailed upon Lope Garcia de Castro, the Spanish viceroy in Lima, to provide ships, sailors, slaves and soldiers for an expedition to seek out new lands in the Great South Sea, to expand the empire and add to the glory of Spain. But a condition of de Castro’s largesse had been that his twenty five year old nephew, Alvaro de Mendaña, a gentle mild mannered man who knew nothing of the sea, would lead the expedition to ensure that any fame or riches granted by Spain for the discovery of new lands would be bestowed on the vice-regal family.

Mendaña took his eyes from the Todos Santos and looked toward the island which was drawing ever closer, as the prevailing wind which had blown them all the way across the Pacific Ocean, continued to fill every inch of the ship’s sails. Now he could smell the fragrance of the land. He took a deep breath and savoured the moment. Soon his name would go down among those of the great explorers of the new world. It would be he who would fill in the last blank in the map of the entire world by discovering the legendary great south land. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Friar Mendez had joined him at the rail.

‘Our landfall is providence, my son,’ the friar murmured. ‘With our food supplies running low and the mood of the men mutinous after so long at sea, I fear we would have perished within a day or two if the Lord had not intervened and guided us here.’

Mendaña’s face broke into a broad grin. A neatly cropped beard didn’t hide his boyish features or his happy exuberance.

‘God’s hand has been at the helm of this ship since we left Calleo, Father. He has guided us here so we both may do our duty. According to Pope Alexander’s edict that all discoveries lying to the west of the Azores shall lawfully belong to Spain, I shall claim this new land for King Felipe the Second, and you and your friars can bring the word of his Holiness to its godless pagans.’

‘That is not the only reason the king allows no ships of exploration to put to sea without Franciscan friars aboard,’ Mendez reminded Mendaña. ‘We are also charged with the responsibility of seeing that any primitive, godless people found in these new lands are treated fairly and that no harm comes to them.’ The friar wagged a cautioning finger. ‘We cannot convert lost souls through fear and violence.’

‘And there shall be none, Father,’ Mendaña said confidently. ‘I give you my word. Unless, of course, we are forced to defend ourselves.’

‘But what of Sarmiento?’ Mendez said dubiously. ‘Once ashore, will he listen to you? He still resents the viceroy not giving him command of this expedition. He regards you as nothing more than an opportunistic whelp. He is a ruthless, gold-seeking, old campaigner who relished the bloody battles with the Aztecs and the Incas in the Americas. But he is a born leader of men. I doubt there is one soldier among the hundred we have aboard these ships who doesn’t see him as their real commander.’

‘Please, do not worry, Father.’ Some of the confidence had gone out of the young captain’s voice. ‘Sarmiento and his soldiers will follow my orders, or they will answer to my uncle, the viceroy.’

*

When the lookouts aboard the Todos Santos reported sighting the glow of fires during the night, Captain Rodriguez, commander of the expedition’s military garrison and a ruthless subordinate of Pedro Sarmiento during the Inca wars, had hurried to the captain’s cabin with the good news. Sarmiento had dressed quickly and the two men spent the rest of the night on deck awaiting the dawn. When at last land hove into view there was no trace of excitement on Sarmiento’s sullen brooding face, or any hint of elation in his cold staring eyes, as he assessed the landfall with the calculating mind of a hardened soldier.

Already he could see the land mass was not large. It was probably just a small island. After nearly three months at sea and sailing perhaps eight thousand miles, after allowing for the strong westerly current, what he saw was a far cry from his expectations of Terra Australis Incognito. Then, some of Sarmiento’s disappointment left him and he allowed himself a degree of optimism. From the fires they had seen during the night, at least they knew there was life on the island. And if there was one island there may well be others. The island they were approaching could be just one of many lying offshore of a vast mainland, perhaps even Terra Australis. And if it wasn’t, a new land, however small, and a new people, was still a significant and fortuitous discovery.

Like the crew of the Los Reyes, after nearly three months at sea with no sign of land, some sailors aboard the Todos Santos had openly spoken of turning back under threat of mutiny. Unlike Mendaña, Sarmiento had not called on the Franciscan friars to placate the mutineers. He had assembled the entire complement of the ship on deck and accused two of the most vocal conspirators of treason. Then he ordered Rodriguez to hang them from a yardarm, and he had let their bodies swing in the breeze for two days as a warning to others, before dumping them over the side of the ship like kitchen swill. After that, the dissidents aboard the Todos Santos had been too afraid to challenge his authority.

For the past few weeks Sarmiento had expected half-starved mutineers to take over the Los Reyes and see her turn back against the prevailing wind in a suicidal attempt to return to Calleo. Had the ship turned back he would have made no attempt to stop her. With Mendaña out of the way he would have welcomed the opportunity to assume command of the expedition and sail on to fulfill his dream. In the old days he had helped strip the Inca temples of vast quantities of gold which was sent back to Spain aboard huge carracks. It was an experience he desperately hoped to relive after the discovery of Terra Australis.

To Sarmiento, the loss of the Los Reyes, which was to have transported riches found in the great south land back to Peru, then on to Spain, would have been a small price to pay for the transfer of the glory of discovery of the southern continent from Mendaña to him. For the time being, the Todos Santos was all he needed. It was more suited to the task of discovery anyway. Columbus had always preferred to take a small caravel on his great voyages. Smaller ships were easier to handle. They drew less water, making them more useful when charting unknown waters close in to the shore. And with a smaller crew, the men were easier to control and threats of mutiny were less likely.

‘What are your orders when we reach the island, sir?’

Rodriguez’s voice drew Sarmiento’s mind from his musings.

‘I shall need to consult with the whelp, Captain. See to it a ship-boat is made ready to transfer me to the Los Reyes the moment we drop anchor. Then prepare a squad of some of your best soldiers armed with swords and muskets to accompany Mendaña and I when we go ashore.’

*

The ariki hastily called a meeting of elders the moment Tumara told him of the ships approaching the island. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the meeting hall, they listened in grim-faced silence as their chieftain spoke.

‘Tumara says the glow of the volcano in the night sky must have attracted the giant boats to our island,’ the ariki said gravely. ‘If the visitors are friendly we have nothing to fear, but if they come to dispossess us, there will be no time for talk once they land on the island. We must decide now what we are to do.’

‘We have always said in the past that we should take no chances and must attack any strangers even before they step from their canoes onto the beach,’ one of the elders said quickly. ‘Warriors tired after a long voyage will be easier to kill than the well-fed, well-rested enemy we will have to contend with on shore if we greet them as friends and they turn on us later.’

The ariki nodded his head slowly.

‘That has always been my thinking since we were driven off our old island so long ago. If we had attacked the newcomers on the beaches then, instead of greeting them as friends, we might still be living there.’ The ariki’s old eyes moved over the faces of the elders. ‘I know those of you who remember how the invaders first befriended us, then turned on us and slaughtered us like animals until we at last surrendered, would not want us to make the same mistake again.’

‘Then we must attack immediately,’ a second elder said. ‘It has taken a hundred years for the handful of our people who survived the invasion of the old island and the long sea voyage to Mara, to build our numbers back up to where they were before we were dispossessed. We cannot allow it all to happen again.’

‘That is why Tumara thinks it may not be wise to attack the men in the giant boats. ‘The ariki rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. ‘He says their vessels are unlike any ever seen on the Great Sea before, even by our young voyagers who have sailed far and wide with Tamara—even as far as the great land to the west. Because of that, he says there are other things to consider.’

‘What things?’ another elder asked.

‘My son will tell you.’ The ariki turned to Tumara and gestured to him to address the gathering.

‘The two great canoes approaching Mara could carry more warriors than ten or fifteen great catamarans and there may be many more boats following behind them,’ Tumara said grimly. ‘But that is not my greatest concern. What makes me afraid is that those who come here today are not people of the Great Sea, because no island tribes have no such giant vessels. At least island tribes who dispossess others because of famine or overpopulation of their own island, always allow the vanquished to sail away to seek a new home elsewhere. But the strangers who come to Mara today in their great ships may not be so merciful. If we attack them and we are defeated, they might kill us to the last man, woman and child.’

‘All the more reason to kill them as they come ashore,’ one of the younger men called out.

‘But if they are not Great Sea people,’ Tumara reasoned, ‘they may have come in peace with no wish to drive us off our island. And if they do come in war, there may be too many of them for us to defeat in battle. Even if somehow we did prevail over them, our losses would be high. And how do we know there are not many more great vessels just over the horizon filled with warriors who would avenge their fellow voyagers by killing the few of us who survive the battle. I say we cannot risk that. After all, we are the last of the Children of the Sun. I say we greet the visitors as friends and fight only if we have to.’

A loud murmur ran through the elders as they turned to each other and anxiously spoke among themselves. After a few moments the ariki raised a silencing hand.

‘We will do as Tumara says,’ he said solemnly. ‘The risk is too great. The Children of the Sun must survive. We have remained pure for countless generations. We have protected our purity by isolating ourselves from lesser tribes and by prohibiting any contact or intermarriage with outsiders which would degrade and corrupt our lineage. In the past, when our existence as a people has been threatened by encroachment of tribal migration from the east, we have always followed the sun, and sailed further westward in search of new remote islands to call home. Our determination to survive and remain pure has come at great sacrifice. But, over the ages, we have been rewarded with contentment, wisdom and longevity found in no other peoples of the Great Sea.’

The ariki turned and gestured to Tumara. ‘What other people can boast men such as my son who appears to be no more than fourteen or fifteen years old but who in fact almost double that age.’

CHAPTER THREE

A flotilla of small outrigger canoes manned by strong young islanders paddled out over the island’s fringing reef to greet the two great ships as soon as they doused their sails and dropped anchor. Tumara stood tall and erect in the bow of the leading boat. He was dressed in the ceremonial cape of bright colourful feathers he had worn the night before to identify him as a chieftain to the visitors, and he also wore the string of long whale teeth and the huge gold nugget around his neck.

There were no women in the canoes. Tumara had heeded the ariki’s warning of the dangers of tempting sailors with the sight of females after a long sea voyage and of the awful risk to purity of the tribe should any of the womenfolk be violated by outsiders. But to appease the possibly warlike visitors and to show them they were being welcomed as friends, all the canoes were loaded with as much food and fresh water as they could carry. But on the floor of the canoes, beneath the woven palm leaf food baskets, stones, short spears and stout clubs lay in readiness in case things turned ugly. And as an extra precaution, all the young girls and women of child-bearing age had been taken to the safety of a hidden cave on the densely treed slopes of the hills just outside the village.

Tumara stared in awe at the sheer size of the vessels as his canoe drew close to their massive hulls. He noticed that the ship anchored closest to the reef, although huge, was smaller than the second which was anchored further out in deeper water. Tumara decided the chieftain of the voyagers would almost certainly be aboard the bigger ship and directed the flotilla toward it. As his canoe passed by beside the first vessel, Tumara looked up at the strange faces of a long line of sailors who stood crowded shoulder to shoulder at the rail of the ship.

Many of the white skinned men peering back down at him were wild-eyed ruffians. They were dirty and unkempt with long unwashed hair, knotted and matted from months of wind and salt water spray. Scraps of filthy clothing covered their thin malnourished bodies. More men stood on a raised deck towards the stern of the vessel. Tumara could see these men were of higher rank.

Unlike the ragged sailors on the fore-deck, the uniformed men on the afterdeck stood proud and erect. They had an aloof bearing and looked to be well-disciplined. They wore neatly trimmed beards and were dressed in identical, well-fitting clothes made of fine red and green cloth with polished belts with silver buckles. They wore helmets on their heads and breastplates over their chests which occasionally flashed brightly in the morning sun. Tumara knew at once such men must possess powerful mana. A shudder ran through his body when he saw the fearful looking men all held what looked to be strange weapons of war and he realised that they must be warriors.

When Tumara’s canoe approached the larger ship, he looked up into another sea of inquisitive faces staring down at him. Like the men on the first ship, some were ragged sailors and some were plainly soldiers, and like men on the first ship their features were unlike any of the peoples of the Great Sea. The strangers looking down at the canoes were olive-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed men with gaunt, angular faces. Then the faces suddenly parted and a youthful but important looking man and an older man wearing long flowing robes appeared at the rail. Both men smiled down at Tumara and the younger man called out to him in a language he didn’t understand.

‘I am Alvaro de Mendaña,’ the younger man called out. He gestured to the man in robes standing beside him. ‘And this is Friar Alphonso Mendez. We have come to your island in peace at the behest of King Felipe of Spain. I take it you are a chieftain?’

The words meant nothing to Tumara. But as the two men on the deck of the ship were still smiling broadly, he smiled also, then he nodded to the young men in the canoe. They quickly shipped their paddles, picked up the baskets of food which had been prepared for the second day of feasting on the beach and held them up to the strangers in an offering of goodwill. Then, as the canoes behind Tumara’s neared the vessels, they too shipped their paddles and held up their baskets of food.

Mendaña was clearly delighted at the friendly welcome from the islanders. He ordered crewmen to lower rope webbing down over the side of the ship and beckoned to Tumara to come aboard. At first Tumara was hesitant, preferring for the moment to remain in the relative safety of the canoe and have the baskets of food passed up onto the ship. But it was plain the two chieftains aboard the great vessel were insisting he come aboard and not wishing to offend them, he and two strapping islanders stepped from the canoe and climbed up the rope webbing onto the deck of the Los Reyes.

Mendaña approached Tumara and reached out to lay his hands on his shoulders to embrace him. Unsure of the Spaniard’s intentions, the two islanders who had boarded the ship with Tumara stepped forward to protect their chief. Mendaña smiled cautiously and backed away. He beckoned to a group of sailors who hurried forward and laid two sea chests at their captain’s feet. Mendaña reached down and took out a bolt of bright yellow cloth from one of the chests and held it out to Tumara, and assuming it was a gift Tumara took it in his hands.

Tumara’s acceptance of the cloth encouraged Mendaña. He quickly reached down and took a glass jar from another chest and took out handfuls of beads and offered them to Tumara’s companions. The beads were every colour of the rainbow and they sparkled in the sunshine. The young men took them in their hands and smiled happily. Soon everyone was smiling and Tumara went to the ship’s rail and called out to the men in the canoes, telling them to take the food baskets aboard the great ships.

Tumara kept a watchful eye on both vessels as the islanders boarded the ships and the good natured exchange of gifts began. Soon after it started, he noticed a small boat was lowered from the smaller vessel lying close in to the reef and he watched cautiously out of the corner of his eye as armed soldiers climbed down into it and began rowing the little craft over to the larger ship. His eyes scanned over the canoes riding the swells around the vessels. Only a small number of islanders were boarding the ships carrying food baskets. The rest of the men remained in their canoes just as he had instructed them to do before they left the beach. They sat watchfully, within reach of their concealed weapons, in readiness to defend themselves if the need arose.

Mendaña approached Tumara again and held out his arms. This time Tumara allowed the Spaniard to embrace him briefly. The show of friendship greatly pleased Friar Mendez and after Mendaña and Tumara drew apart, the cleric crossed himself and chanting holy words, blessed the islanders in the name of the Holy Catholic church.

Just as the friar’s incantation ended, the ship-boat from the Todos Santos reached the Los Reyes and Pedro Sarmiento clambered up onto the deck followed by Captain Rodriguez and a dozen soldiers armed with pikes and muskets. Sarmiento strode swiftly across the deck to where Mendaña and Mendez were standing with Tumara and his companions.

‘Captain Mendaña,’ Sarmiento said brusquely without acknowledging the presence of either Friar Mendez or Tumara and his islanders. ‘I must warn you of the folly of allowing these savages aboard our ships before we have had a chance to discuss how we are to deal with them.’

‘These people have to come to us of their own freewill and in friendship,’ Mendaña said quickly. ‘They have demonstrated that by approaching us unarmed and bringing us food.’ Mendaña sighed in exasperation. ‘What would you have me do, Pedro, drive them off with swords and muskets?’

‘Your naiveté will be the death of all of us before this voyage is over, Captain Mendaña,’ Sarmiento rasped. ‘You were just a babe in arms when we stamped out the last resistance of the Indians in Peru and made Lima a safe place for the likes of you and your uncle to enjoy. Do you think Spain conquered the Americas with just jars of beads and rolls of calico?’ No, we took our new colonies by the sword and now hold on to them it with an iron fist, just as we must with any new lands we discover in the Pacific.’ Sarmiento gestured toward Tumara and his men with a jerk of his head. ‘Mark my words, these islanders will behave no differently than the Aztecs or the Incas. They will take any gesture of friendship as a sign of weakness and will turn on us at any time it suits them. Accordingly, I instructed Captain Rodriguez and his men to open fire on the savages at the slightest hint of treachery.’

Mendaña’s jaw hardened. ‘May I remind you, Captain, that I am in command of this expedition and Rodriguez and his soldiers will take their orders from me, and only me. I alone will decide if the use of force is necessary and that decision will only be made after consultation with Friar Mendez.’

Sarmiento turned his eyes patronizingly toward Mendez.

‘I think you will find these islanders, like the Incas, are better left to the devil, Friar.’ Sarmiento turned to Tumara and his cold eyes appraised him. ‘Look at this ungodly creature, dressed in little other than feathers and whale teeth. He is a wild man. Can’t you see the malice on his face and the loathing in his eyes? Do you really think such a savage can be redeemed?’ Sarmiento stepped within an arm’s length of Tumara. ‘Any fool can see he has no soul to save.’

Every muscle in Tumara’s body tensed when Sarmiento stepped close to him. It was clear the man from the other ship was very important, possibly even a chief, and although Tumara couldn’t understand a word he said, it was plain to see his disposition was hostile. And because he had boarded the ship in command of armed soldiers, Tumara thought that he might carry more authority than the younger, more friendly chief on the larger vessel.

Sarmiento stepped even closer to Tumara. Tumara stiffened. Now the older chief’s hard eyes were just inches away, coldly staring into his own. But Tumara didn’t flinch. He just held the Spaniard’s gaze and stared back defiantly. After a moment, Sarmiento slowly lowered his eyes. Then, just for a moment, Tumara saw the hard eyes soften and the corners of Sarmiento’s mouth moved in a barely discernible smile when he noticed the huge golden nugget nestled among the whale teeth on his chest.

Sarmiento turned and glanced guardedly but knowingly at Captain Rodriguez who stood stiffly with his men at the rail of the ship. Then he quickly turned back to Mendaña and the grey-haired friar.

‘Forgive me, Gentlemen.’ Sarmiento’s voice suddenly become more amiable. ‘Perhaps I have judged these natives too hastily. And you must realize, Captain Mendaña, that I had no intention of usurping your authority or questioning the holy work of the good friar. It is just that as an experienced soldier in the New World, I feel a deep responsibility for the safety and security of this expedition.’

Mendaña seemed relieved Sarmiento had seen fit to abandon his aggressive behavior and that a potentially explosive situation had been defused.

‘I respect you as a soldier and also your long experience in dealing with the native peoples of the New World, Pedro,’ Mendaña said conciliatorily. ‘Because of that, I would appreciate it if you and Captain Rodriguez would join Friar Mendez and myself in my cabin just as soon as these islanders have departed so we may discuss how and when we should formally go ashore and take possession of this island and its people in the name of Spain.’

*

Naomi had ignored Tumara’s instructions not to leave the hiding place in the hills to which he had been taken with the other younger women. Almost as soon as they arrived in the thickly wooded area about a mile from the beach, she had hurried back toward the ceremonial ledge high above the village from where Tumara had seen the great ships approaching the island. And she had watched with her heart in her mouth as the flotilla of canoes led by Tumara set out from the beach to face the visitors when their ships dropped anchor beyond the reef.

She had gasped and held her hand over her mouth in fearful apprehension when she saw the first young men climb from the canoes onto the ships. Although from her vantage point on the ledge, the outriggers looked no bigger than specks on the ocean and the men in them were unrecognizable, Naomi knew Tumara would be the first man to board the great ship and her heart had begun to thump in her chest. And it kept thumping until, after what seemed like an eternity she saw the islanders climb back down into their canoes and paddle back toward the shore.

*

After the islanders left the ships, Mendaña, Sarmiento, Rodriguez and Friar Mendez gathered around the table in Mendaña’s cabin. As they ate their fill of succulent baked fish, fowl, pork and tropical fruits, they discussed their fortuitous discovery and Mendaña outlined his plans. ‘I suggest we spend the remainder of the day aboard the ships,’ he said. ‘I think the men deserve some well earned rest. After all, there is no great hurry for us to land on the island and it may be wise to let the islanders get used to our peaceful presence here before we go ashore.’

‘But the day is still young,’ Sarmiento interjected quickly. ‘We have many hours of daylight left and I think we should use it. I think we should go ashore immediately, get the lay of the land and assess the strength and numbers of the natives. We cannot allow ourselves to be complacent. There may be danger for us here.’

‘From what I’ve seen of the natives, I think not, Pedro. But if there is, we surely would be better able to face it if we are all well rested. And besides, there are other important matters we need to address.’

Sarmiento’s eyebrows rose. ‘Such as?’

‘You know as well as I do the ships are beginning to leak