"Somewhere in Polynesia is the best anyone can say," Renfrew replied. "The fellow's language and customs don't accord precisely with any of the known island groups, though I can understand a little of hisspeech."
Her father ordered, "Roxanne, do a sketch of the savage's featheredhelmet."
"His name is Chand-a-la," Renfrew saidmildly.
Sir William shrugged. "A savage is asavage."
Roxanne bent over her notebook and did a quick sketch of the helmet. The man might not be six and a half feet tall, but from what she could see, he was well above average height. What had it been like to sail a canoe halfway around the world? How fascinating it would be if she could talk to Chand-a-la and learn about the wonderful things hehadseen!
She gave him a quick glance. How strange and lonely he must find this northern land, so far from his sunny islands. She wondered if he would ever find his way homeagain.
Abruptly the Wild Man broke from the knot of observers and strode toward her, a velvety feather cape swirling lushly around his shoulders. Roxanne gasped, her gaze riveted by the expanse of naked bronze skin. The pattern of black hair across his chest and midriff paradoxically made him seem even morenaked.
No wonder the innkeeper had had doubts about admitting her! She'd never seen so much bare male flesh in her life. His loincloth barely covered his--she groped frantically for a suitable word--his maleparts.
Cheeks burning, she bent her head to her notebook and began to sketch the tooth-like ornament that hung around Chand-a-la's neck. He stopped beside her, his large, bare feet entering her field of vision. As she stared at them with a ridiculous amount of interest, a baritone voice crooned, "Wahine," intoherear.
"That is the Sandwich Island word for female," Sir George remarked. "It appears to mean the same thing to Chand-a-la."
Dark fingers reached out and stroked the back of Roxanne'shand. "Nani."
"That might mean pretty," Renfrew said thoughtfully. "Orperhapssoft."
The Wild Man must be warmer than an Englishman, for his fingers seemed to scorch Roxanne. She edged backward, unwilling to lift her head and look intohisface.
One of the onlookers murmured, "He's not so different from one of us. If I’d spent two or three years in a canoe without a woman, I'd certainly want to further my acquaintance with the first female who crossed my path." Someone hushed the fellow before he couldsaymore.
Curiously Chand-a-la reached out, touching the brim of her bonnet. As if wanting to see her face, he said, "Wahine?"
"Behave yourself, you brute," Sir William said sternly. He raised his cane and shoved the tip into Chand-a-la's chest with bruising force, driving the savage backward. "Haven't you trained him to stay away from decent Christianwomen?"
Amusement in his voice, Renfrew said, "He's not easy to train, Sir William. But I'm sure he meansnoharm."
The Wild Man batted the cane away, saying in a voice of obvious disgust, "Malahiniokole."
"Interesting," Renfrew said innocently. "In the Sandwich Islands those are the words for stranger and, er…,"he glanced at Roxanne, "backside. I wonder what they mean to Chand-a-la."
"Obviously something different." Sir William frowned at the Wild Man. "Is the canoe here? I'd like toseeit."
Before Renfrew could answer, Chand-a-lasaid, "Aole!"
Unfastening his feather cloak and tossing it aside, he went to the fireplace and pulled out two burning brands. He raised the torches above his head, then began swinging them in an intricate pattern that blazed through the dimness like wheels of fire. At the same time he started shouting, "Aie-yah! Okolemaluna-yah! Mahalo nui loa-yah!" and similarphrases.
Chand-a-la's chant might have been an ancient ritual, or it might have been nonsense syllables, but it filled the assembly room with a harsh, compelling rhythm unlike anything Roxanne had everheard.
While the scholarly observers began scribbling madly, she simply stared, mesmerized by the sight and sound of the Wild Man. He was magnificent, surrounded by fire, a being of primitive, masculine power. To see him was to be carried away to a world far different from prosaicEngland.
Her reverie was interrupted when her father snapped, "For heaven's sake, don't gawk, Roxanne. Take notes. Try to catch the words accurately so they can be translated when we know more about hislanguage. "
Reluctantly she bent her head, jotting a phrase, then taking a quick glance up before jotting another. Her cheeks colored again when she saw that Chand-a-la's loincloth was in danger of being dislodged by his energetic movements. Engrossed with his fire dance, he was splendidly unconcerned withpropriety.
With a last booming "Aie-yah!," he hurled the burning torches into the fireplace, where they crashed in a shower of sparks. A collective sigh went through the watchers, as if acknowledging that they had been privileged to see a raresight.
Even Sir William murmured, "Quite remarkable." His lips pursed as he noticed how bare the Wild Man was. "But the landlord was right. This isn't a fitting sight for a female." He took Roxanne's arm and started to usher her fromtheroom.
"But, Papa," she protested, strangely unwilling to leave. "Surely you will need me for sketching and notetaking."
"I shall manage," he said brusquely. "Tell the landlord to find a maid to walk down to Sutton Pool with you. I expect I shall that I shall be busy here for the rest oftheday."
