Hawaii - James Michener [51]
"What shall we do, Mano?"
"Tonight there will be stars, Teura," the shark whispered. "All the stars that you require."
In perfect contentment the old woman closed her tired red eyes. "I have waited for you for many days," she said softly. "But I did not feel completely lost, Mano, for I knew you must be watching us."
"I've been following," the shark said. "Your men were brave, Teura, to keep the sails aloft like that."
Teura opened her eyes and smiled at the shark. "I am ashamed to tell you that I argued against it."
"We all make mistakes," the blue beast said, "but you are on the right course. You'll see when the stars come out." And with this consoling assurance, he turned away from the canoe.
"There's a shark out there!” a sailor cried. "Is that a good omen, Teura?"
"Tamatoa," the old woman said quietly, "tonight there will be stars." And as she spoke two land birds with brown-tipped wings flew purposefully toward the south and Tamatoa saw them and asked, "Does that mean that our land is far to the south?"
"We shall never see it, Tamatoa, for we are safe on a new heading."
"Are you sure?"
"You will see when the stars come out."
With what excited apprehension Tupuna and Teroro waited for the dusk. They knew that when the Seven Little Eyes peeked above the eastern horizon, the canoe's course would be apparent; and when Three-in-a-Row appeared, they could deduce where Nuku Hiva lay. With what apprehension they waited.
Exactly as Teura had predicted, toward dusk the clouds disappeared and the evening sun came out. As it sank, a tremendous exhilaration filled the canoe, for trailing the sun was the bright star of evening, visible even in twilight and soon accompanied by a second wandering star of great brilliance, and like the two gods on whom the canoe depended, the stars marched grandly toward the rim of the ocean and vanished in their appointed pits of heaven.
On the platform old Tupuna called all passengers to silence as he threw back his white head and intoned a prayer: "Oh, Tane, in our preoccupation with the storm of your brother Ta'aroa we have not thought of you as often as we should. Forgive us, benevolent Tane, for we have been fighting to stay alive. Now that the heavens are restored to remind us of your all-seeing kindness, we implore you to look with favor upon us. Great Tane, light the heavens that we may see. Great Tane, show us the way." And all prayed to Tane and felt his benevolence descend upon them from the nearer heavens.
Then, as darkness deepened over the still heaving ocean, and as the winds died momentarily from the gallant outstretched sails, the stars began to appear; first the mighty golden stars of the south, those warm familiar beacons that showed the way to Tahiti, followed by the cold blue stars of the north, scintillating in their accustomed places and competing with the quarter moon. As each star took its position, its friends in the canoe greeted it with cries of recognition, and an assurance that had been absent for many days returned.
The critical stars had not yet risen, so that in spite of their joy, men could not suppress the questions that often assailed voyagers: "What if we have sailed away from heavens we knew? What if the Little Eyes do not rise here?" Then slowly and uncertainly, for they were not brilliant stars, the sacred group arose, precisely where it should have been, climbing up out of its appropriate pit.
"The Little Eyes are still with us!" Tupuna shouted, and the king raised his head to offer a prayer to the guardians of the world, the core around which the heavens were built.
The astronomers then met to read the signs, and they concluded that the storm had blown fairly steadily from the west, but apparently there had been, as Teura had guessed, a definite drift of the sea northward, for the Little Eyes were going to culminate much higher in the heavens than would be proper were the canoe on course to Nuku Hiva; but to say specifically how serious the drift had been, the navigators would have to wait until