Toa Ni stepped closer to the sprawled out on the sand pair, assuming a position of the spokesman. His companion acknowledged the seniority and stayed back a little, ready to jump into action if Toa Ni as much as made a silent command with the tips of this fingers. He was not missing a slightest movement of either side.
"Who are you with, Rising Sun?" Toa Ni inquired.
The woman was alarmed by the openness of the question. In Tanga speak it held a wide range of meanings from something as innocent as asking for a name of a person who Tanga perceived as your friend, up to a partial threat if he meant to ask why she was found on the beach caring for Tanga's enemy.
"He is a friend. I have been waiting for him to come from the sea." She spoke very clearly, double playing the words just as Toa Ni did. She was telling the truth that she had been searching for the shipwrecked sailors almost every day, but her words also could have been interpreted that this was a man she knew before her arrival on the island. This implied that the man belonged to her 'tribe' rather than being a complete stranger, as Tanga would see it, and thus they would be less inclined to harm him. The Tanga believed in the supernatural, thus an appearance of an old friend by mystical means was not improbable to them.
Toa Ni, however, was sceptical. He studied the pair suspiciously and his eyes narrowed into hard slits. The warrior behind him lifted his spear tip up. It was too easy for them to wrestle the man away from her. She wouldn't be able to stop them.
Throwing caution to the wind, she crossed the fingers of her right hand and laid it on top of the sailor's shoulder.
A minor shudder of dismay ran through Toa Ni. Every muscle of his body froze. In Tanga silent language this gesture indicated a deep attachment, mostly reserved for the family and dearest friends. It symbolised that the person making the gesture would fight to death on behalf of the other. It was used rarely and never lightly because anyone who made this declaration without meaning to follow it through was executed.
Her bluff forced Tanga to think. It was appealing to capture their enemy right under the sea woman's nose, but undesirable having to fight the sea woman to death for someone she had claimed to be her tribe member. He could kill her of course, but his Chief held Rising Sun in high regard and would execute Toa Ni this time with a dead certainty if he killed her. Tin Agan never fully trusted him after the rebellion.
"We will help you carry him to the sea men's village," Toa Ni declared at last to maintain his dignity. It made him look like a hero who graciously conceded to help Rising Sun with a task she was clearly incapable of. He had the last word, so he turned on his heel sharply and headed inland.
The woman did not object, partially glad for the help. She knew that semi-offended warriors will not provide an explanation, thus she mutely allowed the second Tanga warrior to hoist the sailor up on his shoulder. She grabbed her possessions, and hurried after them barefoot, not entirely trusting the Tanga to keep their word.
She nearly bumped into the warrior as he stopped abruptly by the growth line and dumped the sailor onto the ground. "Wait here," he told her, disappearing after Toa Ni.
She trusted that their actions had meaning, thus she focused on assessing the state of the sailor while waiting for Tanga's return.
The man lay on his side awkwardly, just as he had been dropped. Blood stains marred his back. His injuries must have been severe judging by the soaked through naval jacket. He must have had multiple cuts and bruises too, but this wasn't the time to look for them. His pulse was faint. Worst of all, the man was parched. His lips and skin were dry.
She sat down with her back leaned against a tree, and then pulled his upper body to rest on her lap, mindful to keep the pressure off his back. It was an uncomfortable position where he was partially turned away from her. She spilled a bit of water from her flask onto her fingertips and wet his lips. Slowly, she coaxed him into opening his mouth. She poured a small amount past his lips and massaged his throat to help him swallow.
The man swallowed twice and a violent shudder went through his body. His hand flew up. He grabbed the flask in absolute desperation. The woman didn't relinquish her hold, but was hard pressed to keep it away from him. He wouldn't be able to control himself and would choke if she allowed him to drink on his own. "It's all right!" she spoke rapidly whatever came to mind first. "I'll let you drink every drop. But slowly. I'm your friend. My name is Constance. You are safe with me. I will help you drink the water. Please trust me."
It was unlikely that he understood her, but her voice had a calming effect on him. His arm dropped in exhaustion.
"That's good," she praised. "Thank you."
She gave him more water in dozes that wouldn't make him sick.
That's how the Tanga found her later, whispering assurances to her charge.
"Do sea men always talk to the lost souls?" Toa Ni inquired.
She read irony behind his words. "He is not dead," she replied gravely, aware that the Tanga simply wanted her to admit that this man would serve them better as a dinner, then leaving a man who will soon die with her. "My voice will reach his soul and bring him to me."
Toa Ni regarded her with irritation. He didn't like women who argued with him. "We'll carry him," he said with an abrupt gesture to a crudely made stretcher. She realised that they've gone to build one while she was waiting. However, she didn't allow them to treat the man as they have before.
"Lay him on his stomach," she ordered when the warriors tried to move the man. She didn't fully relinquish her hold and helped them lay her charge in the stretcher. She made sure he was as comfortable as he could be in such a position.
Tao Ni regarded her with semi-indifference. When they were underway, the warriors set a swift pace through the jungle, punishing the woman for her earlier impudence. She had put on only one shoe before they took off, but she refused to show that anything was wrong and followed them quickly like it was the most natural thing in the world to walk around half barefoot. Luckily, the village was not far. Not that she minded much being barefoot. In childhood she was more of a wild cat who had frequently abandoned her shoes, until in her teens her proper lady upbringing had taken over. Her childhood tendencies have rapidly re-emerged on the island where it was far more convenient to wear masculine clothes and walk barefoot after Tin Agan had taught her how to avoid stepping on snakes and poisonous plants. Overall, her agility allowed her to keep up with the warriors without much difficulty.
"Oi, Toa Ni," she called out loudly when Tanga turned away from the path into undergrowth, "why are you going around the camp instead of taking the faster route there?"
The warriors ignored her. Fed up with their behaviour, she ran around the group and jumped right in front of Tanga. Toa Ni was force to stop, having nearly run into her.
"I don't like using the road that sea men have cut out through the jungle. It's too open," he offered an explanation grudgingly.
This was hardly the time to play Tanga stealth games. She had to get the man to the doctor as soon as possible. "Surely, for a brave Tanga, there is no threat on that path. You only risk encountering allies who will invite you over to have a drink and enjoy a good shade." She tried to persuade him.
"We have no time for a drink," said Toa Ni self-importantly. "We were busy hunting, and no longer want to be distracted."
At his silent command, both Tanga placed the stretcher on the ground. "May the Spirits be with you, Rising Sun," said Toa Ni ironically before slipping away among the trees with another warrior silently following.
"Savages," she muttered under her breath. Not only did those words mean goodbye but also death. She was unimpressed with Toa Ni continuous implications. She looked down at the unconscious man, wondering how she was going to get him to the village, when she heard voices. It explained Tanga's retreat. The words weren't clear, but she recognised English that was followed by merry laughter. There was only one man who dared to laugh too loudly and freely in the jungle from his first day.
"Edward!" she shouted. "Edward, I need help!"
The laughing stopped abruptly. "Constance?" the man called out uncertainly. "Is that you?"
"Yes! I'm off the path, to your left if you are coming from the village! Come quickly!"
She soon heard loud crunching of the branches and someone unskilfully but quickly tearing his way through the jungle towards her. A man with the burned out, sand coloured hair soon appeared, trailing a liana on his foot. He looked over her dismally. "Constance, what's wrong?" he prompted, not having spotted any injuries. "I thought you were hurt."
"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings boy, rather than seeing only what you intend to see," chided a gruff voice. His companion, a man of a heavy complexion with a thick neck, caught up. He moved quickly as well, but with a greater caution.
"Aye, Captain," Edward shot back. He finally noticed the stretcher and felt like a fool. His blush was visible even under the heavy suntan and frequently sunburned cheeks. "He doesn't look like one of the crew," he offered uncertainly.
"Of course he isn't," said the Captain. "The girl must have fished him out of the water. She is all wet, as you can see."
Edward nodded. His good personality won over his embarrassment. He hurried to pick up the stretcher as the Captain firmly pried the other end from Constance.
"Maybe you can share the tale with us how a Mermaid such as yourself have saved this lucky soul as we carry him to our doc," Edward teased. "Now he must fall in love with you when he wakes up."
Constance bristled. "Stop making jokes! This is serious."
Edward gave her a thoughtful side-glance. It was not like her to get angry. She missed his concern, her attention focused on the wounded man. For an eloquent woman who could always make her point clear, her re-telling of the events was fragmented. She seemed too occupied by her concern to be interested in sharing everything with them.
"I'm going to run ahead to find the doctor," she said, giving up on finishing her story. Why the Tanga left her in the jungle was not that important. "Bring this man directly to the cave."
"I would rather have you stay with us," the Captain protested. He too noticed her agitation and wanted to keep an eye on her. Constance ignored him, and the two men were left with no better option than to hurry after her.
When they've reached the village, Constance already found the doctor. She clung to his arm, giving him an occasional tug, and urged him to go out to meet the party, but Simmons insisted on staying put.
"Bring the patient over to the window," he ordered, as they reached the healing house. It was a contraption, partially located outside and partially leading into a cave. Constance had to release him as he took over the supervision of their patient.
"Captain, please find Mr Reed. I require his assistance."
"Why not mine?" Constance exclaimed. "I have enough nursing training to help you."
Simmons regarded her without his usual sardonic air. "Because, my dear, I have no need of a nurse whose agitated state will do more harm than good here."
Constance went still. She hadn't noticed that her troubled feelings were influencing her so much until he brought it to her attention.
"You are salt-soaked," Simmons continued, trying to take a sting out of his words. "That's not good. I think you will benefit from a brief trip to the waterfall to wash it off and calm yourself. Edward will accompany you to make sure that you will not be disturbed."
"I'll look after her," Edward promised.
She didn't resist when he guided her out. His palm was hot on her back and she shook off his hold irritably. Thinking that she needed a moment alone, Edward fell back a step, and walked behind her like an escort, but he was determined to stay with her.
She felt guilty for snapping at him when he was showing nothing but care for her.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she offered quietly.
"It's all right. You are entitled to be stressed after using the gesture of protection in front of one of our greatest enemies on this island. He could have killed you easily."
"And then possibly the crew too," Constance admitted. This bothered her the most. "I know that large part of our peace treaty rests on my friendship with Tin Agan. You wouldn't be safe without me."
She paused in mid-step to allow Edward to catch up and walk beside her.
"I know you wouldn't use it lightly, but you should always try all other options first, and perhaps this measure is not necessary even then." There was a stressed tilt of his shoulders as he tried to articulate his concern for her safety, but to show at the same time that he cared about the others too. "Promise not to do it ever again," he said awkwardly, nowhere near being able to explain what he truly meant, but she seemed to have understood.
With him so close and with the guilt it was tempting to make a promise. Yet, even when she could see the bigger picture, she always intuitively acted on what the present moment dictated. She shook her head stubbornly. "I cannot. It must have been foolish to risk all our lives on behalf of a stranger, but I would never have forgiven myself if I had not done all in my power to save him."
"I understand," Edward conceded. They walked in awkward silence until the sound of the waterfall grew near.
"I'll wait for you here," he said, stopping by a thick tree that had split off trucks that formed a seat in between them. The path was turning left where it would shortly lead to the bathing spot.
"Thank you. I will not take long," Constance promised.
"Take you time," Edward gave her a ruthful smile. "I much prefer to laze about in the shade, and pretend to be a hero who protects maiden's honour, than to work on some of the chores the Captain might have in mind for me."
"Well, I just hope you won't get too bored with the chivalrous stationary duty and will not be moved by an impulse, for my safety of course, to come and check on me," Constance jested, feeling more relaxed that he dropped the matter readily and focused on being a good friend to her.
Edward laid his hand over his heart theatrically. "Are you suggesting that I may peek? Doubt not my scandalous reputation that I can get enough women to undress for me as not to be desperate to resort to such a vile tactic to enjoy such a pleasant sight."
"But not this woman." Constance shot him an amused look.
He allowed her to have the last jest. As she disappeared down the path, Edward climbed the tree trunk and perched comfortably on the nature-made seat. His thoughts weren't so cheerful, although he had slipped into his carefree role easily for her sake. He understood why she could not have acted differently, but it didn't mean he could take it lightly. He worried a lot about her, more so than for all the others, even his closest friends. Not that he ever allowed his feelings to surface beyond an occasional flirting. He hoped that no one noticed. He was known as the island's Casanova, who was first to take pleasure with one of the Tanga women, and then repeated the experiment.
It was not that he was madly in love with Constance, but having her near, always so warm, so caring, so understanding stirred his desires beyond friendship. He acknowledged a possibility that he would have been willing to ask for her hand and make a good husband to her. It was easy to think about, considering that she was single. But she wouldn't have accepted. From her first day aboard Fortuna Minor, Constance had made her priorities clear. She was highly considerate and friendly. She had quickly earned respect of the men by knowing when to stay out of their way as they worked and when to offer help. The Captain and the crew held sisterly affection for her. But, she made it clear that she was in no want of any other kind of companionship. She wore a black ribbon sometimes on her dress, sometimes on her wrist. Edward realised that it was a tie to the one who held her heart. Realistically, that man must have long accepted her death, must have found new love and perhaps even had kids already, but Constance had her name engraved into her personality. She had never stopped loving him.