Hawaii - James Michener [48]
But what Teura particularly appreciated were those unexpected messages from the gods which meant so much to the knowing. For example, an albatross, not large and of no possible importance as food, happened to fly past the canoe and she saw with gratification that he kept to the left, or Ta'aroa's side, and since the albatross was known to be a creature of that god's, this was a refreshing omen; but when the bird insisted upon returning to the canoe, also from the left side, and finally perched on the mast of Ta'aroa, the coincidence could no longer be termed an omen. It was a definite message that the god of the oceans had personally sent to an old woman who had long honored him, and Teura looked at the sea with new love, and sang:
"O, Ta'aroa, god of the boundless deep,
Ta'aroa of the mighty waves
And the troughs that lead down to blackness,
We place our canoe in your hands,
In your hands we place our lives."
Contentedly, the old woman gathered her many omens, and they were all good. The men of her canoe might be lost, and the stars remain hidden, and the storm continue, but Ta'aroa was with them and all was well.
In the late afternoon, Tupuna and Teroro, before resuming their duties, came aft to find out from Teura where they were, and she advised them that they rode much farther north than even Teroro had suspected.
"No," the men reasoned. "We've been to Nuku Hiva. Directions don't call for a turn yet."
"Head for the pit from which Three-in-a-Row climbs," she warned with stubborn finality, "or you'll miss Nuku Hiva."
"You wait till the stars come out," Teroro challenged. "You'll see we're on course."
Teura would not argue. For her any problem was simple: either the gods spoke or they didn't, and if they did, it was useless to explain to someone else how the message was delivered. "We are far to the north," she snapped. "Turn."
"But how can we know? Teroro pleaded.
"The gods said so," she muttered and went to bed.
When she was gone, the two men reviewed her various omens, but the only one upon which they were willing to place much reliance was the albatross. "You can't have a much better omen than an albatross," Tupuna reasoned.
"If Ta'aroa is with us," Teroro concluded, "we must be on the right course."
From the grass house old Teura stuck out her head and snapped, "I've noticed that Ta'aroa stays with a canoe only as long as its men keep it on course. Turn."
That night it could not be proved that Teura was either right or wrong, for no stars appeared, neither in the darkness of midnight nor in the anxious dawn, and Teroro steered solely by running directly before the wind, with only a small section of sail out, trusting that the storm was steady and not blowing in circles.
On the third starless night, when the canoe could have been in real danger, Teroro reached a major decision. While consulting with Tupuna he said, "We've got to believe that the storm is blowing true."
"Arrival of the albatross is best proof of that," Tupuna pointed out.
"Then I think we'd better take full advantage of it."
"You intend hoisting the sails to the peak?
"Yes. If it is the gods who are sending us, we ought to go forward as fast as we can."
When they presented their proposal to King Tamatoa, he showed his disturbance over the lack of stars and pointed out that the night crew's estimate of position did not jibe with that of the old woman, but he also appreciated the good sense of his brother's proposal. "I am much impressed by that albatross," Tamatoa reasoned. Teura confided one fact to me that she didn't tell you. When the bird came hack the second time to land on the mast of Ta'aroa, it landed with its left foot extended."
The astronomers whistled, for this was a most propitious omen, since it confirmed the leftness of the bird's intentions and its peculiar inclination toward the mast of Ta'aroa. "I can