Three Loves Seven, Chapter 28, Part 3 - "Justice is served, and sometimes it comes on a stick"

Dear Gentle Readers,

Our present narrative moves off the Island and out onto the high seas. We've gone off location before, but always in the flashback or in historical sequences.

Did Nu really "act out" as an act of psychological self-actualization and escape from the Island on Andou's boat as the Professor suspects? Is she even there on Andou's vessel? Mu's pretty sure. And mothers are usually right. Especially these mother and daughter pairs who all have slept and breathed next to each other in bed really since the daughters were born. I myself think Clete is right when he suggests that they all really need some separation. Dog Island is a place with no privacy, no personal space. Clete, bless his selfish, iconoclastic heart, is the epitome of a separated, discrete individual, sundered and apart from anyone and anything, to these women. It's why they are both appalled and enthralled by him.

If you're looking for long passages of descriptions of the marine scene, I'm going to disappoint you. The ocean is just a surface that our hero needs to cover to get to the next scene of enactment. I've been on boats the size that Clete is piloting; and they make me ill. So, it's not an experience I tend to want to dwell on very long.

So, take a dose of your literary Dramamine, batten down your hatches, and put on your flotation gear, cause we're heading out.

... as the story continues ...

Lee gave me an abbreviated refresher on the boat’s operation. She showed me where there was an ancient copy of the operating manual; it was in English. I even had a vague memory of reading a manual for the same model of vessel for some reason. I had certainly reviewed many ship manuals in my time. For some reason I remembered the technical illustration of the craft on the cover. Lee believed there was enough fuel for the mission and getting back. If the pursuit went farther, I was to proceed to the next Island and refuel, but under no circumstances was Nu’s foot allowed to set foot on foreign soil.  I was going to tell her they had watched too many fantasy flicks, but we were in a hurry.

I questioned the off-course route she had given me, but she said there were a series of seamounts that I was avoiding just under the surface. They were the cause of many of the shipwrecks that brought people to their shore (or who alternatively provided a varied source of nourishment to the native sharks). The route she gave me would have it’s own set of submarine hazards, but they were much fewer and she trusted me to spot them in addition to using the sounding map.

I broke out of the harbor and proceeded to the place where I would shift course.  Sure enough, I could see it was a maze to the east—more like a Minefield really. There were even a few places where rocks broke surface. More skilled sailors than I, like Andou, are probably able to read the current swirls that signaled danger beneath. However, all this time I noticed that there was a large albino orca swimming in front of me. It kept its distance but then it stopped. It was like it was waiting for me. Lee’s instructions were to veer north, but the orca took a turn to the east, exactly the direction I needed to be going. If it took a dive, I would be in trouble, but it had been staying at the surface within eyeshot. I silently apologized to Lee in my head in abandoning her safe-course route, and decided to do like I did in other foreign countries and try to “drive like the locals.” Finding the orca seemed like good luck such that I now questioned my own sanity as I seemed to be adopting the Islanders’ practice of following a portent. It was a good call though, as the orca stayed with me until we cleared “The Minefield.” I checked my watch and I had made up for all of the time lost in my arguing with Mu back at port.

An open sea pursuit is pretty boring, at least mine was. Set your course, read your instruments, and just keep heading toward empty horizon until something hopefully shows up. I carried out all instructions given to me. Sure enough, my quarry came within viewing distance and I now had a visible target. I made sure all Dog Island colors were flying as directed.  The ship cut its engine and waited for me as I pulled alongside and secured us together.  So far, everything went as Mu had explained. I had her statement in my pocket. I conjectured that it would be some phonetic workout of whatever language those guys would respect.

     “Put on that garment on before you board,” she said, “and keep it on when you read my statement.”

It was a robe of golden silk material and black and red trim. The figures of the four directions, the words and the animals were embroidered on each quadrant of the robe. The sleeves were much too long for my arms. There was an odd hat of black silk which looked awfully silly to me, but I put them on as instructed. By strange coincidence there was a large embroidered square on the front which featured the Chinese character for my last name, Wong. I stepped over onto the supply ship. Hari and his two cousins stood there waiting for me. Skipper and the other man were nowhere in view.  Hari gave me his hand and helped me on board. I got out the statement and read the first sentence. He took me to the mast. The three of them then dropped down on one knee. Hari looked up and yelled suddenly. I felt a shadow fall on me and then something hard and blunt on my head and then it went black.

When I awoke I was down in some room below. The rocking of the ocean was making me nauseous because the up-and-down motion was very heavily pronounced, or at least seemed so to me. The room was packed with crates as I would expect any freighter to be. In the room were myself, Nu, and Skipper. Apparently we were locked in. Skipper was very deliberately facing away from Nu. They were obviously avoiding any eye contact. I had been laid out on a fold-down cot.

     “Nu? Are you all right?” She was facing a bulkhead.

     “I’m fine. How’s your head Professor? You had quite a bump, but no skin was broken.”

     “It hurts. Why did they do that? I was not armed. I made no threats.”

     “They are idiots,” said Skipper. “Watch too much movies. Did you call the navy?”

     “You’re here too? Mutiny then?”

     “Yes. Stupid child of mine.”

     “I radioed my coordinates and asked them to investigate if I did not re-establish contact in two hours. How long have I been unconscious?”

     “They have 40 minutes then. Will serve them right to sit in prison. My worthless son.  Locking me up like this. He will have hell to pay, I tell you.”

     “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you two talking to the walls? And not facing each other?”

     “Dr. Wong, on Dog Island at least, the man in this room, I am not allowed to speak with him or to interact directly in any way. We do not know the rules at sea, so I am maintaining as large a ceremonial distance as I can as is called for by protocol.”

     “Why?” Nu did not answer. “Is it a caste thing? Is it the royal status or something like that?”

     “Dr. Wong,” Nu said, “I’m not sure if I should be even talking to YOU right now because of what you have on. Why are you wearing that robe and that hat?”

     “Your mother told me to dress like this before I boarded this ship and to have it on when I read her message to the crew here.”

     “MY mother, the Dragon Guardian Princess … gave you that robe?”

     “Well, not to keep, I’m sure, but I assume it has the meaning of an office? It’s an emissary’s outfit then? I’m taking them off right now.”

     “That is NOT the robe of an emissary. You are right now something much greater. Keep everything on,” said Nu, “your life may depend on it.” She said something in Something spoken in Manchurian to Skipper. Back to English. “I am become a silent vessel, who sees and hears nothing. Speak freely to Captain Andou.”

     “Nu, what the hell is going on?”

     “Dr. Wong, you will now speak to me. She will be silent. It is as if she were not here.”

     “Skipper, what is this about?”

     “You call me just Andou.”

     “I am just Clete.”

     “While you wear that robe, I call you Wong. Hari!”

A rap came at the door, and a grunt in some vernacular tongue. It was one of his two nephews.

     “Call my son here. He does not realize who has boarded us. Tell him his very life is in peril. All of us!” He turned to me, “My son was not born nor raised on the island. He does not know all of the Island ways. My family moved after the flood.”

     “The one in the early 1980s.”

     “Yes. There was more Island when I was child. The Water God gives and takes back. Sometimes the Earth God pushes back and it grows. They struggle. The Sea Witch’s power, right now, I think is in gain.” The door unlocked and a young man of about 25 stepped in. “My son, the jailer.”

     “Father, I’m sorry, but this had to be done.”

     “This is Wong.”

     “I know his name Father, we met last night.”

     “Wong is not his name. Wong is his title”

     “Wong, I’m sorry you were hit over the head,” said Hari.

     “Young man, that was totally uncalled for. I mean you no harm or coercion myself.”

     “I am terribly sorry. I will beat my deckhand myself.”

     “Do what you need to do,” I said, “I was asked to read a statement to you by Princess Mu, and I promised I would.”

     “Go ahead.”

     I took out her paper. “OH, this is in English. I’m supposed to stand. ‘In the name Four Guardians of the Compass, the protectors of Dog Island, the Dragon, the Phoenix, the Unicorn, and the Tortoise, and by the will of the Five Elements that give and sustain life, and by my authority as the Great Prince of Southern China, the Exalted Lord of Dog Island and All Its Tributary Domains, you will return the princess to her appointed place or forfeit that your family and lineage continue. Let every knee turn to water and every forehead and every hand hit the floor and tremble.’ Hmm. Nothing diplomatic or flowery there.”

When I looked up, the men were bent with heads to the floor. I turned around and saw that Nu was likewise prostrated. I guessed that I had read some kind of protocol bomb.

     “Are you all kissing the floor for a reason? I don’t think Mecca is in that direction.”

     “We didn’t have a choice, Ah Wong,” said Andou. He then yelled at the other men. “SEE! I TOLD YOU HE WAS RAJA! The gods save us! He has the power of The Witch besides!” said Andou.

     “There something else here. It’s looks like a kind of curse, ‘By the power of God Over All Gods, the Great Ten, I command the spirits that indwell us all …”

     “RAJA!” said Andou, “Do not finish that sentence, or you will need to get both ships to port by yourself.”

     “Hunh?”

     “It is a curse. It is a death call on your enemy. No need to pronounce it.”

     “I have no weapon. It’s just words.”

     “You don’t need a weapon against us. Your very word is deadly. Our own bodies will kill themselves if you speak that curse. Please. We are at your full service. Please conduct yourself and order us however you will,” said Andou.

     “OK, I will.” I stood in front of the Hari. “Heads up son, look me in the eye. Hari, is it? Explain yourself.”

     “Raja, I was trying redeem my sister’s life.”

     “Son, I appreciate that. We have the same goal, you and I. She’s your sister you say?”

He nodded. I walked over the Nu who still had her head on the floor.

     “Nu? Are you Hari’s sister?”

Her head made a nodding motion.

     “Did you plan this escape with these young men?”

She shook her head.

     “Are you here against your will?”

Again, the nodding motions. 

     “Hari, putting aside this belief in magical words, here’s a real threat. You now have about 30 minutes for me to get to my phone, or a group of ships will come with all force necessary to liberate this Princess of Dog Island and me, a citizen of the United States. You will most likely be boarded, killed, and your ship scuttled unless you cooperate with me. Are we clear on this?”

     “Yes, my Lord.”

     “I’m glad we’re all on the same page. Everyone rise.”

     “All men stand down! Bow!” Andou yelled out. “Follow me, Raja.” He led us out onto the deck. The kinsman with the meander tattoo had my phone in his hand. Andou retrieved it and handed it to me. “Please make your phone call, but I call for equanimity and restitution first before we can proceed.”

He handed me a bamboo rod and then all four men assumed a prostrate position.

     “Now what?” I asked Andou.

     “There were 10 parties levying accusation in your pronouncement. So apply 10 strokes to each mutineer and the debt is addressed. They must be firm and delivered with conviction. The 10^th stroke, the one that is yours, must be stronger than the rest.”

     “What part of the body?”

     “Any part you want. I suggest the upper back. You don’t want cripple them or they will be no use to you in the future.”

     “Why don’t we wait. It’s probably not best to do this kind of thing in the heat of the moment.”

     “On the contrary, it is the best time. Your stroke will match the intensity of your outrage or your mercy. If you wait to give a cold-blooded stroke, it will probably be more damaging, and less fair.”

     “Can’t I just levy a fine?”

     “They have no money. We pay with our bodies.”

     “In that case, how about they work it off with labor whenever I need it?”

     “You already own that, Raja. You are not accustomed to giving a beating before have you?”

     “It shows?”

     “Pitifully, but I say that with respect. They will honor the punishment that is meted out by you. They will even prefer that you leave a mark.”

     “Fer Chrissakes! You know, I thought the women from your Island were REALLY fucked up in their thinking, but you guys are just as bad in your cultish devotion to the mortification of the flesh. Is there something in the water there?”

     “You are closer to the truth than you realize. If you prefer not to sully your hand, you may have the Princess Nu administer the beating in your stead, but you must deliver your stroke, the 10^th.”

     “I don’t think she would be capable. Nu is a very shy and gentle girl.”

Hearing that Nu stepped up and took the bamboo from my hand. She pointed to her head, and then pointed to the tattooed boy for confirmation.

     “I now speak and am your servant. Is he the one that struck you?”

I nodded, whereupon she loosed her hair letting it fall to her calves. She swiveled, raised the rod and screamed shrilly. She later told me it translated to: “In return from my father and my king! Baba! Yi!” She delivered a firm blow to same point on his head as I was struck. He did not lose consciousness as I had, but he shuddered and faltered a bit under the blow. She turned to me and bowed three times. She held out nine fingers, her face shining bright in jubilant glee, apparently waiting signal from me to continue. I held up my hand in restraint and she then stood by for instruction.

     “A worthy blow,” said Skipper.

This was not the compliant, eager-to-learn, intense-but-cheerful Newton who sat in the classroom. An anthropologist colleague who was advising me on working in foreign lands talked about how we sometimes cross out of the real world into “Ceremonial Space” where we cease to be who we are, but instead become actors or proxies enacting truths much larger than what we are ourselves. I felt we all had entered Ceremonial Space. We were about something bigger than us now, something huge, essentially human. You don’t know what to do and yet you know exactly what to do.

     “Thank you my dear,” I said to Nu, “but Wong Wong, Raja, or whatever I am, is exercising executive authority and doing a changeup. Stand up men,” I said. They complied. “This raja is from the Western world so I will do this a bit differently. I will strike the face, as a subject with the back of my hand. You will turn the other cheek and offer me to then strike you on the other side, as a man. My hand is old and weak, so if you really want a mark, I suggest you get a tattoo.”

     “Would you like a glove, Raja?” asked Andou.

     “No. My dad always slapped me upside the head with an open hand when I deserved it. He told me once, ‘Son, when you discipline your own son with a physical blow, use an open hand as I do. Use an open hand because even if the sin against you hurt and you are justified in correcting and punishing an insult, you need to hurt yourself too in delivering a blow to someone one you care for.’ So that’s what I’m doing. We must all feel it.”

And so it went as I found myself modifying some godawful ritual I really didn’t want to participate in, but you do what have to do. I don’t need to describe it, but finally Andou then presented himself to be struck.

     “Why? You had nothing to do with it,” I said.

     “I raised him. Don’t hold back.”

So I obliged. It was the only thing to do. I clobbered dad too. I’m sorry to say it, but delivering all that physical justice to guys who wanted it and demanded it felt pretty damn good.

© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Way, all rights reserved.