PoraBora

Chapter Twenty-Five

Warriors came up from the hull in slow wondering, but the answer came quickly. Keasau was gone. The men did not collapse to their knees or hit a rail in frustration. They lined up in the dark.

No lanterns were lit, for the oil had not yet been cleaned. It seeped into the hulls and surrounded them in the sea. A miscreant light would set them all ablaze.

And they had lost enough men already.

The oil stifled the phosphorescence and left their ships in an unmoving plain. There was no color, no light but for where the horizon met the sky and black met dark, bluish grey. Akoni imagined it was very much how the world might have looked before the sea glow god gave texture to the night.

The syphons were called up too, and they looked at the oil unhappily. They would be the ones to clean it.

"Nineteen men," announced Makaia from the bow, and there was silence. "Nineteen men have died today. Giving their lives so that Taipala could have a god's blessing. We remember them."

The warriors chanted powerfully, noticing that the blank spaces were not filled by those who had been below.

Akoni crossed his arms. Nineteen good men.

"Each of us now wears their suffering and pain. Let your burns scar so that you will never forget our brothers' sacrifice."

In the dark, Akoni could see little of the chief's face, but he could see his form above those around him. The man's burns would be as bad as any of theirs, for he had never gone below.

Neither had Akoni, but he had dressed for the occasion.

"Where is Keasau?" whispered Poka, finding Akoni on the deck.

Akoni didn't answer.

"I wish I could tell you that the job is done. That Keasau is nestled in the great weight of our net." Makaia paused again as men looked back to the stern. "It is not. The god has...escaped us.

"Take heart in knowing it was a near thing, brothers. Rejoice in the coral that has led our engineers and our plan so close to success. Ah, but it should be success that we are celebrating, warriors. It should be success! But the anchor was dropped. The anchor was dropped."

The warriors did not murmur surprise. Most of them already knew. Many had tried to stop it. Akoni kept his face stoic. Makaia had not seen it done. He could not know who to blame.

"I will take the blame myself," said Makaia. "The fault is mine, for oversight. I should have been sure the anchor was properly fastened. I should have been sure nothing could have stopped us from earning the blessing of Keasau."

Yes, thought Akoni. And for the nineteen dead men. And Chief Simusi, and Ule Ule, and everything and everyone else laid to waste by Keasau's destruction.

"The chase is not over," said Makaia. "We will redouble our efforts. We have not come this far to return to Akapua with nothing. Our people depend on us. Taipala depends on us."

Akoni spotted the other syphons where they had gathered near the hatch. They listened intently.

Except for Noo'omu. "Chief Makaia."

The man turned to them. Akoni winced.

The syphon was not invited to say more, but Noo'omu stepped forward. Akoni could make out little of his face. Or his intentions.

"What is he doing?" Akoni hissed to Tua.

Tua shrugged.

A warrior standing beside them looked over.