The Voyage of the Tiki

The rights to the characters of Tales of the South Seas belong to someone else entirely.

My thanks to my beta readers JLC, Rann, and Ariadne who held me accountable for my imaginative grammar, questionable sailing techniques and cavalier disregard for what actually happened in the series during the time period in which I set my tale.

This adventure occurs a little while after The Boxer Rebellion

Chapter i

The Rattler was making good time in the freshening winds. Responding to a slight shift in the wind, her captain, David Grief, steered a little to port. Automatically, Tah-Meh , tending the mainsail, reefed it in to maintain taut canvas at this new heading. Sailors further forward responded to the sound of fluttering in the foresail and jibs, and soon the schooner was cutting through the swells at top speed.

Grief allowed himself a contented smile. She was a good boat with a good crew. They’d be in port in Aitutaki well before their expected landing. Once they had delivered the farm tools and took on board the cargo of copra and paw paw fruit, they could deliver their cargo to Moorea and then sail home to Matavai. It was time; they had been at sea for six weeks and though it had been profitable and uneventful, he was looking forward to the company of good friends and a rousing card game, though not necessarily in that order.

It was just past noon when they entered the harbour near Ootu Beach. Unexpectedly, a ship Grief didn’t recognize was already at anchor in the bay. He looked to his partner, Mauriri Lepau, who was standing amidships and called out “Who is she?” Mauriri raised his binoculars to his eyes, turned in puzzlement, “The Tiki. Do you know her?”

“No” replied Grief, “From that stern, I’d say she’s American-built. Look at that foremast; she’s been in a storm.” He pointed at the jagged stump, fractured at an angle twelve feet above the deck.

As they sailed nearer, there was a hum of activity on the unfamiliar schooner. Some men were raising sails and weighing anchor as a few others stood along the near rail, their attention clearly focussed on the Rattler’s approach.

“Let’s see who it is” David grinned. “It makes me curious when there’s a new boat in the local waters. Competition, maybe?”

The Rattler closed the distance as the other ship was just starting to make headway towards the entrance to the bay. David left the helm to Sparrow as he stepped to the rail. On the Tiki those men not involved in sailing had scrambled toward the hatch and were now returning – with great speed - to the side of the vessel. Grief’s eyes narrowed as he wheeled and spat out instructions to Sparrow.

“Hard to starboard. Steer away, man.“ Then he shouted to the crew “Take cover, they’ve got guns.” The words had barely escaped his lips when the crack of rifle fire could be heard. Shots hit the water before them and ripped through their surrounding sails. Somewhat protected behind the mast, Grief scanned the deck of the Tiki for the captain. He noticed a tall, caped figure, his face shadowed by a broad-brimmed hat, near the cabin and beside that figure, if his eyes did not deceive him, the brief flash of a woman’s face framed by long dark hair as she descended below deck. Within a few minutes, with the Rattler out of range and a clear route to freedom before them, the Tiki headed out to sea. Mauriri galloped up to his captain, sparing Grief a quick glance before watching the shrinking outline of the rogue ship.

“What was that all about?” he queried, marvelling at the unusualness of the encounter.

“I don’t know, but I intend to see that captain again so we can repay his hospitality.” was Grief’s grim return. Mauriri smirked in answer then his face tightened in concern. “I hope Chief Atui and his people haven’t had any trouble with these men.”

Swiftly, the Rattler’s captain and crew anchored the ship, unlashed the tender and launched it with David and Mauriri aboard. They had traded for years with the tribe in a very friendly fashion and had come to know the Chief quite well - well enough to be concerned when no-one came to greet them as they landed.

They made their way to the village just beyond the beach to be greeted by a distraught Chief Atui. With slow translation, they learned that the sailors on the Tiki had chosen this harbour because of its isolation. There had been serious damage to the craft in a storm three days earlier and they had come in to effect repairs. The men of the tribe had noticed the insolence of the crew and the fact they were heavily armed. This had not been cause for alarm. Though Grief and his crew were trusted friends, most Europeans were arrogant like these strangers.

It was only when a Samoan crewman had talked to them as they delivered supplies that they truly understood the danger they were in. Unaware that the Samoan language and that spoken in the Cook Islands were reasonably similar, the captain of the schooner had erred in thinking that no one would discover the secret of his livelihood.

Simply put, the man was a pirate and the Tiki was a pirate ship. The native sailors lived in fear of their European masters, French in this case. Of even more concern to the chief was the fact that the ship was filled with guns and other weapons and that the men of the Tiki would kill to protect their secrets. It was only because the repairs were not quite complete that the villagers were not already massacred. As it was, five men had had their throats cut and were thrown overboard as the Rattler had entered the harbour.

Captain Grief expressed his sorrow about what had happened to the chief’s people. He then asked, “I thought I caught sight of a woman on board.” The chief grimaced and shook his head in disgust.

His gruff answer was translated to say, “She was with the captain. She seemed almost to be the leader; sometimes the captain would turn to her for a decision. Pale cold eyes. She is, perhaps, an evil spirit” When pressed for a clearer description, he shrugged, “Tall, far too thin, dark hair, pale like all whites. She spoke the same language as all of the crew, French, the Samoan sailor had said.”

Grief conveyed his condolences once again, prepared to drop off the farm tools and to take on his load of copra and citrus. He looked thoughtful as they rowed back to the schooner.

“Well, what do you think is going on here, David - piracy? Illegal guns?” Mauriri put his shoulders to the oars as his face filled with a mix of curiosity and dismay.

“Hard to say. If they are selling arms, it could be to China or Bali or any number of the tribal wars in the islands here. But, if they are French, and if this woman is their ringleader…”

“La Sorcière” murmured Mauriri.

“Exactly” responded Grief.

“But those were just rumours, tales told by sailors with too much rum in their bellies.” Mauriri was doubtful.

“The stories must have some basis in fact. They’ve only been told for the past two years. A fast pirate ship that comes quickly, takes everything, and leaves like a shadow, a cruel captain that will kill anyone who resists and in the background, a hooded figure, some say a woman, who collects the plunder and decides with a nod if the captured vessel is released or is sunk to the bottom. If the Tiki is that ship, it might explain the rumours. Mind you. I doubt if she was called the Tiki then.”

“There are so many stories in the South Pacific. I’ve heard it told that the pirates were German.” Mauriri added.

“I heard that one, too,” Grief mused. “For a while there I thought it might even be our old friend, Gunter.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Mauriri frowned, showing his distaste for the bigoted captain.

David was struck with an idea. “You know, I was talking to a trader from Indonesia - Bali. He was telling me some story about gunrunners. Swore it was a woman ringleader. I didn’t think much about it at the time. But what if the woman pirate and the guns merchant are the same person?

“I guess we should tell someone.” concluded Mauriri.

The captain replied with an impatient sniff. “Who? The islands are a New Zealand protectorate and damned if I’m heading there to report a criminal who could be anywhere in the South Pacific by the time they find the ship. If they even bother to look! No, I think we need to do a little research on our own.”

“Where are we going to find out that kind of information?” asked Mauriri, puzzled.

“At a bar, of course.” replied Grief with a wicked grin.