Baptism of Fire Read Online Free Page A

does jãina mean?’
    Joshua flicked a glance towards the table as his father called them to be seated. ‘Banana,’ he whispered.
    â€˜The Chief was going to kill Uncle Henry over a banana?’
    A gleam which Hannah did not quite like showed in the boy’s eyes. ‘No. He said a white man tastes like a ripe banana.’

Hannah was uncertain whether to offer help with serving the food or remain seated. Would her aunt dislike interference in her kitchen or would she consider Hannah ill-bred if she expected to be waited on?
    Catriona, Hannah’s mother, had always said it was ‘better to offer and be refused than to sit like Lady-Muck-from-Claver-Castle’.
    â€˜I’ll help Aunt Constance.’ Hannah looked at her uncle. He nodded without speaking.
    In her eagerness, she jumped up and stumbled as her foot caught in the chair next to her. ‘Sorry.’ A hot flush crept up her neck and face. She cringed over her awkwardness, knowing her cheeks would be crimson.
    Not daring to look a second time at her uncle, she hurried to the rear door. As she stepped outside, Hannah paused to take in the luscious backdrop of trees and ferns. The beauty of this place astonished her, and her hands itched to beat her paints.
    Aunt Constance appeared in the doorway of a hut separate from the main house. ‘In here, dear. We keep the cookhouse away because of heat and the danger of fire … perhaps you would help Merelita bring in the food?’
    â€˜Mama!’ Deborah called from inside the house.
    Aunt Constance was flustered, unsure whether to supervise or attend to her daughter, but maternal instinct triumphed and she headed for the door. ‘You girls can manage …?’
    â€˜Certainly,’ Hannah answered with false brightness. Merelita said nothing.
    Left alone, the two girls took stock of one another. Merelita was slightly taller than Hannah. It was difficult to guess her age, perhaps sixteen? She wore a wraparound skirt and a sleeveless white top. Her feet were bare. Hannah tugged at her collar and envied the other girl her simple clothing which was far better suited to this hot climate, but she knew she would never dare show her arms like that.
    â€˜My name’s Hannah. I saw you earlier.’
    Merelita smiled and looked away. For amoment, Hannah wondered if the girl could speak English but a moment later Merelita handed her a large bowl of strange-looking fruit.
    â€˜You.’
    That was one word at least.
    It took several trips but eventually they transferred most of the dishes: pork, a vegetable that looked like potato, nuts, pineapple, bananas, slices of a sweet-scented fruit that Merelita called mango, and other things that Hannah could not identify. A welcome change from dreary shipboard rations.
    Despite the Chief’s spectacular entrance this evening, Uncle Henry was unmistakably master at the table. Crowded around it were Ratu Rabete, Jenkins, Henderson the first mate, and three other sailors, Gallagher, Smart and Stephenson. Hannah wondered if they were ever called by their Christian names, or even remembered them.
    She wondered how Jenkins had managed to slick his hair down so well. On his arrival she had looked twice to make sure it was really him. All through the voyage, his hair had sprung out uncontrollably, making him look remarkablycareless: which he certainly was not. And his crooked face didn’t help any: a result, according to ship’s gossip, of sleeping on deck with his head in direct moonlight.
    Also at the table were Aunt Constance and Joshua, his eyes missing nothing. Deborah sat on the floor near her mother.
    Each time Merelita approached the Chief, she stooped, hunching her back as though she were either injured or hiding. The Chief ignored her, devoting his attention to Uncle Henry while occasionally patting the green parasol. Hannah vowed that she would not bow in that ludicrous fashion—not to anyone .
    â€˜Hang me from