“The prince was tired of all the noise and confusion. He was lonely. Tomorrow had been declared Elders’ Day, and as usual, all of his friends were in hiding. People hurried from task to task with worried looks and sad faces. The prince felt as if they were preparing for a funeral rather than a feast day.
“He slipped away from his bodyguards and walked far from his home until, just as the sun was setting behind the sea, the prince reached Kolovai on the other side of the island. This was his favorite place, a place to see everything but not be seen. He climbed up the steep cliff until he reached his observation post, a large, flat rock that stuck out from the cliff. Here he could see the sky above, the ocean beyond, and the meandering pathway below. The prince rested.
“It was night when voices woke him. The moon was full. The silver of its shining face flowed across the rippled surface of the sea like a ghostly, glowing road. The prince shivered, although the rock beneath him was still sun-warmed. The voices that were once far away were now directly below him. The prince listened.
“ ‘If you could have one wish before you die,’ said the voice of a young boy, ‘what would it be?’
“Another voice answered: ‘I would paddle out beyond the reef and watch the frigate birds fish the open sea. Oh, how I’d love to glide on the winds, higher and higher, and then plunge straight down to spear a fat, juicy fish. I’d swallow it whole, and with a full belly I’d glide again, around and around, closing my eyes and dozing in midair, in the warm sunshine.’
“ ‘How can you talk of food when tomorrow is Elders’ Day?’
“ ‘Stop! Tonight I will not think of tomorrow. Until the sun rises, we are alive. So let us live!’
“But the first boy said, ‘I cannot stop thinking about the horror of tomorrow. I don’t want to die! I don’t want to be eaten!’ There were no more words, just the crying of the one child and the gentle shushing of the other.
“Suddenly, Prince Polu understood. His legs began to tremble, his stomach heaved, and his heart pounded madly and painfully in his chest. On every Elders’ Day one of his friends disappeared. On every Elders’ Day a special feast was prepared for his father. Lesser chiefs from all around the islands—and many from neighboring kingdoms Polu’s father had conquered—came to share the feast. A special animal was roasted. King Malietoa was always given the tender nape of the neck and the rich, flavorful heart. Now the prince realized. ‘The animal I thought was a roasted pig was something else entirely!’
“No wonder his friends hid. No wonder the servants were too ashamed to answer his questions! And Polu knew, deep down in the marrow of his bones, that there were some things around here that needed to change. He shouted out, ‘Brave travelers, listen! Please wait. I must speak with you!’
“Suddenly, the sounds of the night stopped. Silence filled the darkness and echoed in Polu’s ears. ‘I am the king’s own son, Polua-le-uli-gana. I will not harm you. Who are you? Tell me the story of your journey.’
“At first the two young travelers said nothing. The prince shouted again, ‘Speak to me. Perhaps I can save your lives. If you’re marked for death already, I can hardly make things any worse.’
“One of the boys whispered to the other. ‘We have nothing to lose. We might die now if this is some wicked trick. So what? Tomorrow we die in the king’s stone kitchen.’
“The other boy called out, ‘We are from Eua. We were selected from the matai’s family. Tomorrow we finish our journey. Tomorrow we meet our death with courage that will honor our family.’
“As the prince listened to these words, his heart nearly broke with sorrow. And then a dangerous plan began to form in his mind. He might lose his life, but he might gain life and pride and freedom for many others. So the prince stepped forward and gave a strange order. ‘Climb this coconut tree that stands between shore and sea. Break off its finest branch. Hurry. Already the sky loses its darkness as the sun draws near. Soon, it will slip above the waves and your time will be over.’
“The two boys ran to the tree. Within minutes they returned with a large palm frond.
“ ‘Plait the frond into a mat,’ the prince said. ‘Wait. Let me lie in the middle of it.’
“Again, they obeyed the prince’s order, wrapping him in the middle of the palm frond as if he were a large, freshly caught fish.
“ ‘Good. I’m ready.’ The prince’s voice was stern and clear. ‘Carry me to the king. Hurry. I hear the roosters warning that night has ended.’
“The two boys carried their bundle to the king. With heads bowed to the ground, they placed the wrapped bundle at the king’s feet. King Malietoa called to his chiefs. ‘Here is a fine catch brought for our feast. Ha! In isolated areas where the diet is restricted, it is hard to eat well. There are only so many pigs in the world, ah? But a chief must be strong, and straight. His mind must be sharp. What do you feed a human, to build strong human flesh? What meat is the most plentiful?’ The king laughed. ‘Cooks! Prepare this as usual. Once it is roasted, invite all the chiefs to join me as I cut out the heart and neck. The rest will be shared.’
The royal cooks opened the bundle, and quickly gasped in horror. They fell to their knees, trembling in fear.
“The king roared. ‘Why this disobedience? Shall I have you thrown into the fire with the fish?’
“ ‘Look for yourself,’ said the cooks. ‘It is not a fish. It is your own son, our royal prince Polua-le-uli-gana! With a mango in his mouth!’
“The king’s face went as pale as an Englishman’s. He stared at his beloved son. The prince continued to sit, head bowed, not saying a word, waiting for a killing blow. But the blow did not happen. The prince looked up at his father. Only then did the father understand the sorrow and anguish he had so many times caused.
“The king looked at the bowed heads of his cooks and chiefs, waiting in perfect silence for his next command. ‘Rejoice!’ he cried out. ‘Let this day begin a new feast, a new celebration. My son has risked his life so I might see. From this day forward, the Elders’ Day feast shall be fish and chicken, fruits and plump tasty pigs!’
“The great king Malietoa kept his word. Of course, so did his sons and grandsons after him. Thus it is told and retold, that because of the brave and loving act of Prince Polu, the people of the Kingdom of Tonga finally stopped feeding on their own children.”
The pecking order worked out like this: Bascal at the top, of course, with Ho and Xmary sharing the next level down. Whatever they wanted done, got done. At the bottom were Preston and Martin and Karl—Karl taking this status the hardest and complaining about it the most. But not too much, not too loudly, for fear of faxwise cannibalism; he could easily be the stuff of the ship’s future meals, recycled endlessly into food and shit and more food and more shit, and maybe eventually restored to his former self, or maybe not. It was an effective deterrent.
Slightly above them was Jamil Gazzaniga, who had a bit of mechanical aptitude thanks to his bicycle fetish. He also had a sense of humor—very important under conditions like these—and despite some wisecracking he did seem to enjoy taking orders. He’d always seemed to have a bit of a submissive streak, or a masochistic one, and like most Queendom citizens he was a staunch monarchist at heart.