Newport!: A Novel

By Lenard Davis

It got me thinking about the hundreds of years of Newport Beach history. It made me excited about from where they came. Hail Chinigchinich!
--Tom Johnson, former publisher of the Daily Pilot and Newport Beach Independent

Reading this epic is like riding in a time machine from the first Indians in the area through the Spanish, Mexican and American settlements in the 20th Century. Through a series of short stories, Davis weaves his opus with suspense, conflict, humor, romance, heroes, betrayal, murder and hope. It reads like a TV mini-series because of his vivid, descriptive, often conversational and colorful writing.
--Chris MacDonald, seecalifornia.com
Old-time fans of Dallas or Dynasty will appreciate how the stories of family betrayal, illegitimacy and murder are played out here in our own community.
-Keith Curry, Former Mayor of Newport Beach, CA
James Michener, move over!
--John Tobin, Western Australia

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491814499

Lenard Davis

Lenard Davis grew up in Newport Beach, California and attended Officer Candidate School in Newport Rhode Island in 1978. He left the program voluntarily and returned to his original career teaching history in the public school system for thirty years and becoming teacher of the year before retiring. Since then he has written four books and is now working on another novel.

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© 2013 Lenard Eugene Davis. All rights reserved.

First Edition Copyright 2010 by Lenard Eugene Davis

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/14/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1451-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1450-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1449-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013919671

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PROLOGUE THE SOURCE OF LIFE

BOOK ONE THE BAY OF HIGH BANKS

BOOK TWO THE DAY OF THE GREAT CANOE

BOOK THREE IN THE NAME OF GOD

BOOK FOUR ADOBE

BOOK FIVE RANCHERIA DE SANTA ANA

BOOK SIX THE RIVER

BOOK SEVEN THE SETTLERS

BOOK EIGHT PAVILION

BOOK NINE THE HARBOR BUILDERS

BOOK TEN GARNET’S CASTLE

BOOK ELEVEN STORM CLOUDS

BOOK TWELVE THE YACHT CLUB

BOOK THIRTEEN DIABLO

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedicated to my late aunt, Bernice Curler, the other writer in the family

List of Illustrations

BAY OF HIGH BANKS AND ADJACENT AREA

CABRILLO’S VOYAGE 1542

MISSIONS OF CALIFORNIA

MISSION SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO AND VICINITY 1790

DOMINGO LANDS AND VICINITY 1820

BENITO DOMINGO SURVEY IN 1853

TOPOGRAPHICAL SURVEY IN 1875

ORANGE COUNTY 1905

ORANGE COUNTY HARBOR IMPROVEMENTS 1919-1921

ORIGINAL PLOT MAP OF BALBOA ISLAND 1910

NEWPORT HARBOR 1945

NEWPORT BEACH 1975

PATH OF HURRICANE DIABLO

FAMILY TREE 1 – JUAN DOMINGO LINE

FAMILY TREE 2 – ROBERT MORGAN LINE

FAMILY TREE 3 – JEREMIAH YOUNG LINE

Prologue

THE SOURCE OF LIFE

F rom deep within the bowels of the earth nature slowly began to push upward great masses of granite. Through eons of primordial time, the majestic peaks today known as the San Bernardino Mountains grew until they became the highest range in Southern California soaring to over eleven thousand feet. The highest of all is San Gorgonio. Ultimately, this story begins there.

In a familiar age-old pattern the winter snows melt under the sunny countenance of springtime; tiny rivulets of life-giving water trickle down the slopes in a persistent journey to the great ocean. An inconsequential trickle joins with others in an alliance, which becomes first a stream, then a creek and finally a might river.

The river is called the Santa Ana. For millions of years it meandered across the land carving channels and estuaries here and there. Sometimes violent, sometimes lazy, it brought life to an otherwise dry desert. It also poured great quantities of sand into the ocean, filling a great sub-marine trench and piling large mounds of soil along its banks. These were periodically breached during years of high rainfall and the river continuously changed its course, creating several bays and marshlands along the coast.

As the millenniums passed, the river poured rich silt onto the valley floor. This it continued to do until modern times when man tamed the unpredictability of nature with dams and flood control plans. Today this mighty water is an emasculated ditch. During wet years it flows in great torrents through its ordained channel but much of the time it is simply a parched bed of sand that disguises its once and future violent nature.

Few among the millions of people who inhabit its floodplain are aware of a potential disaster caused by this erratic river. They live in happy confidence that the deluges of ages past are no more. They have built houses upon a wisp of sandbar created a by a particularly moist series of years during the middle of the nineteenth century. As floodwaters rushed to the sea, they abruptly turned to the left less than a mile from the mouth and poured tons of sand upon countless more tons, creating the narrow spit of land that separated the marshlands from the sea; a shallow harbor was the result.

Men and women came to this place, mostly unaware of an earlier culture. They built resort homes, dredged a channel and gave birth to a new town known as Newport Harbor. They made a playground for the well-to-do a haven for yachts and yacht clubs, a refuge for the rich and famous. This is their story as well as the story of another people who came long ago, lived, and died, loved and hated, worked and played.

Newport!

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Book One

THE BAY OF HIGH BANKS

I.

I t was settled. There was no more room in the village of Mobengna for any additional people. Thus, five men and their women and children were to go seek a new place in order that what was plenty would so remain. There had been years past when people starved because there was not enough food. It must not happen again. A better plan was to send out five families in this year of plenty babies to a new ground where there would be much squirrel and rabbit to catch, where bushes by the river would yield many berries, and where the birds might provide enough food for any man with keen aim and a swift arrow. So decreed the Chief of Mobengna.

It was a sad duty to make such a choice. The chief was very fond of all his people and it broke his heart to have to send any away yet he realized his greater responsibility to the village. The chief knew that his decision could mean life or death for whoever was picked. It would be essential to choose wisely but he was the Chief and his choice would be the best.

To lead the little band, Chief decided to appoint Lupuk. Lupuk was one of his best braves. He could throw a spear the farthest, he could shoot an arrow the straightest, and it was said that he could catch a fish with his bare hands and never miss. Lupuk was liked and well respected by the others for he was a peaceful man who liked to laugh but he was also strong and honorable.

For this simple society of people who knew only that they lived in a pleasant, quiet land, who lived and died and pursued their concerns in blissful ignorance of the world and who had no idea that other magnificent civilizations existed in far-away lands, Lupuk was well suited to be leader. He had skills, which were considered by many of his peers to be most important. His mind was quick to react when faced with a situation of making a choice, such as where to stand in the river and how to position his hands just so while waiting for a fish to swim between his legs and when—and this required great skill and timing—to grab it. These and other things did Lupuk know.

In other lands, men conceived magnificent schemes to conquer vast empires, to erect great stone monuments to their own memory or to devise brilliant philosophies of life. Lupuk was not in the habit of nurturing such frivolous dreams. Nor did he pause to consider why he existed or what was to become of his issue in some distant age. To Lupuk and his neighbors what mattered were the present and perhaps a legitimate concern for the following season and what good or bad fortune it might bring. Lupuk realized the important tasks, which needed to be accomplished so that his wife might have adequate food and shelter.

So Lupuk was surprised when Chief summoned him for a formal audience one evening. All Lupuk could think was that he had in some way displeased the Ancient One. In his mind, he tried to recall his recent transgressions and imagined which of these might have been discovered. He could find no clue in the drawn, solemn face of his elder; custom dictated that he not ask until spoken to.

The old chief stared at Lupuk for a long while. He puffed thoughtfully on his favorite pipe, coughed once or twice, and finally spoke ominously, Lupuk, he growled, I have been watching you for some time. Others have reported to me about your activities.

Lupuk shuddered. He was a good man but, as good men are, did not always in his own mind do good things. There were temptations in life and Lupuk gave way to some of them on occasion.

I know, continued the chief, cognizant that Lupuk was ill at ease, that you have attempted to be an honorable member of this village. I am pleased with you, Lupuk.

Lupuk gave an inward sigh of relief as whatever it was that the chief wanted, Lupuk would leave this meeting and still remain in the good graces of his superior.

I have asked to see you tonight, Lupuk, because of a problem that Mobengna faces which could be a very bad thing. You know that many babies have been born this year because we have prospered.

Yes, said Lupuk, Chinigchinich has been most generous with us.

Chinigchinich works in strange and mysterious ways and what he gives he might also take away. The Puplem informs me that when the sun next arrives at his home the rains will not be with us as they have been in these past few sun seasons.

Great Chief! exclaimed Lupuk am I worthy to know such things as these? I am only a hunting brave.

And the best I have, too, sighed the chief. Lupuk noticed that this ancient of ancient ones looked considerably more tired than usual. But I must consider the whole of the Mobengna People; there are too many for us to survive forever. When we have to move each season into new wickiups there will be too many people to manage and too few sticks to be found for building. I say to you that some of this tribe must leave here and find a new place somewhere else far away so that all may prosper.

Lupuk suddenly understood what was going to be said next. I am here, he answered, to obey your wishes, Great One. The thought was terrifying.

I have chosen you to be chief of this new village. You are to name four other men and their families and go from here. Find a place. Settle it. When you have prospered, return here and take away a few more settlers if you wish. You may pick anyone you like but they and their woman folk must come to me and ask to go. I will have no man say that he was forced to leave here. I shall ask the Puplem to observe all the omens so as to know the proper time for your journey.

I know, Lupuk, continued the Ancient One, that you have already been out exploring many times. You must have some ideas already as to where you might go. Tell me your thoughts.

Great Chief, answered Lupuk, twice I have been to the Great Water. There are few people there but the water is full of fish and other fine things to eat. Our river leads to this water and the journey will not be too difficult for the children. A man can walk there in a day. With women and children it will take two days.

The Chief agreed that this was a sensible plan. He later consulted with the Puplem who indicated that the month of Sintecar, when the Sun had reached its highest point in the summer sky, was the best time to begin the expedition.

To go with him, Lupuk first asked Manta who was his best hunting companion and who was as able as he was. Manta had a young wife named Sijot, considered the fairest of any woman, maiden or not. Manta and Sijot had, as yet, no children.

Lupuk knew that Manta would go with him happily. In fact, Manta had said to him, Lupuk! This is such a splendid opportunity as few have had before. We shall have our own village and be chiefs while we are still blessed with our youth. We shall build a fine village, the envy of all. With such enthusiasm, Lupuk was secure in his knowledge that his venture would meet with success.

There was Bal-la, who was clever and ambitious; cleverness and ambition would be useful qualities for pioneers. Bal-la was at first unwilling to go. I have a wife and four children, said he. Am I to raise them in the wilderness?

Replied Lupuk, Bal-la, consider the possibilities for us all. We shall start a new tribe and you will be a founding elder. Such greatness does not often present itself to a man. Remain here and be one of many old men on the council one day; come with me and be a shaman. It is your choice.

Bal-la, for selfish reasons, agreed to go.

Amongst the village was a boy named Strong Oak and he was the image of his father, Kuun. Strong Oak was not yet initiated, but was already the leader of his peers and even admired by those who had the year before taken their test of manhood. In Strong Oak was a promising future. Fortunately, his father was strong and able. Lupuk would ask Kuun to join his group. With Kuun came his wife and two children, which happily included Strong Oak.

Kuun took no time in pondering the invitation. His future in Mobengna would be mediocre at best. As an elder in a new village, he would be important. Moreover, he would leave a legacy to his fine son. It was because of Strong Oak that Kuun had been chosen to leave with Lupuk. It was on Strong Oak’s account that Kuun accepted the challenge.

Finally, Lupuk spoke to the Fat One and his wife, Mateka. Mateka was always present when important people came to speak to her husband. He needed her wisdom and advice in order to make and proper decision about anything especially one as important as leaving Mobengna. Lupuk could not help but smile when he saw this rotund pair. The Fat One and Mateka had six roly-poly children already with one always; it seemed to Lupuk, on the way. Mateka would serve as a living reminder of fertility. She could be counted upon to populate a new town and ensure a future for all.

Mateka listened to Lupuk’s plans and whispered to her husband, you must consent to this; we shall be eldest, and thus most respected in the new village. With our many children, our family will come to lead this place.

The Fat One was not particularly ambitious. He was a kindly man content to eat his victuals his wife could gather from the ground whilst he spent his time mending arrows or carving cog stones. He liked playing with the children and dangling the little ones from his knee. This new life would be difficult, not the least of it to have to walk some inestimable distance. I think, said he, that I would not be suitable for such an adventure.

Lupuk was not surprised. He was counting on Mateka to cajole her husband into accepting. He desperately wanted the Fat One—faults being what they were—for he, too, had valuable qualities. He would bring to the village joy and laughter, which might not be as forthcoming as other men who would be preoccupied with the trade of survival. The Fat One was also a good medic and someone with knowledge of such mysteries was essential. Yet an added bonus was his talent for artisan work as there would always be arrows to make and totems to carve. True, he was not ambitious but there would be enough who were and, besides, Mateka had sufficient ambition for the two of them.

She spoke up, You foolish husband, she scolded gently, Can you not see what a wonderful chance we have been offered? And Lupuk says that we will go live by the Great Water. Have I not dreamed of one day seeing that magnificent sight?

My wife, smiled the Fat One, is that truly your dream?

Husband, she smiled now that victory was assured, You know it has been all these years.

But your condition…

. . . . is nothing new to me. I can certainly walk, I am not lame.

The Fat One looked at Lupuk. It seems the decision is made. But is it a hard journey?

Lupuk reassured him, The journey will take two days. We will stop to rest many times as I realize your children are small and unused to such hardship.

The Fat One admired Lupuk’s diplomacy. Then it is settled. We shall be ready to leave whenever you say.

II.

W hat worried Lupuk most was Bal-la. He was admittedly something of a gamble. Bal-la did not always get along with others in Mobengna but Lupuk had thought that a new chance somewhere else might be good for him. It might also cause Bal-la’s son, Bal-Quu, to grow up with greater respect for the hardships of life. Lupuk had known this when he first chose Bal-la but had considered it merely his own personal prejudices that Bal-la was selfish and scheming. As plans were culminating now in the group’s departure on this morning of the high sun, Lupuk had sudden misgivings about Bal-la. Unfortunately, everything was decided and arrangements had been made. There was nothing to do but live with what would probably prove to be a bad decision.

Twenty-three assembled with their belongings on that day: Bal-la, Manta, Kuun, the Fat One and their families and Lupuk. With Lupuk were his wife Tai and their infant son, Lupuki.

The tearful farewells were made to people who, for most of the group, would not be seen again as women folk in particular did not undertake long journeys simply to visit relatives and friends. Lupuk bade goodbye to his own mother by asking. Would you not reconsider and come with us?

My son, said the old woman, I have lived for fifty-two sun journeys. I will not live for another. Go and be blessed by Chinigchinich. I shall remain here and die.

Lupuk felt a hard lump rise in his throat as he gazed at his mother’s eyes. They were blue, a rare phenomenon to find in a brown-eyed people. Lupuk was a man of gentle emotions, like the others, and tears such as now welled in his eyes were of no shame to him. With determination, he said. I shall return and visit soon.

I shall be with the Great Chinigchinich, his mother replied softly. My time here is nearly passed and when Moar again is full in the night sky, I shall fly home with the Eagle.

Lupuk knew not to argue. When an old person was ready to die, it was the duty of the others to allow that person to go peacefully and without protest. To prolong life was to debase it. Once deceased, the individual would be given a grand ceremony and then never mentioned afterwards. Lupuk’s last glimpse of his mother would be for him the end of her existence earthly or otherwise. If and when he did return to Mobengna, she would be no more.

Even the jolly Fat One seemed downcast as he waddled over to his dearest friends to say goodbye. While Lupuk or the others might hope to return one day on some mission, the Fat One would be forever consigned to his new location. He was too overweight to travel as a rule. He would never see Mobengna again.

As the new group proceeded to collect their things and go along their way, there were cries of Goodbye all around. Some wept openly, particularly those left behind. For the new adventurers, there was primarily a sense of joy and excitement. Lupuk was excited at the prospects of a new world and a new life ahead. Manta was enthusiastic for the sake of his old friend. Bal-la was glad to leave people he disliked and for the prospect of increased stature and power which founding a new village might offer. Kuun’s joy was for the future of Strong Oak as greatness was now assured. Mateka relished a sense of adventure long missing from a marriage that had, however, its other advantages and pleasures. The Fat One was content because his wife was so. The other spouses and children were also relatively happy at their new prospects. There was one person who was not happy.

Tai had no great ambition in life. She was content to be the wife of the finest brave in Mobengna. That of itself would secure a reasonably respectable station for her in life, which she would support by being the dutiful wife and mother. Had she not already borne one fine copy of her brave husband? Could any man be displeased with such a fine wife? She wondered what force compelled her husband to take up this rash new project, to uproot and disturb their pleasant life for some ridiculous scheme.

Dutiful wife that she was, Tai said nothing to anyone. Her suffering would be her sacrifice. The emotional strain of actually leaving the village was, however, more than she could take. She began to sob uncontrollably. Lupuk put his arm around her shoulder, as he knew instinctively that she was not happy. He had never consulted her. It had not occurred to him that she might not appreciate such and obviously fine plan.

Tai shrugged away from him and turned to look back on Mobengna. Lupuk said, with more sharpness that he had intended, Tai! You must not look back.

Ignoring him, Tai stopped walking and gazed upon the village she so loved and would miss.

Tai! cried out Lupuk with genuine anger at her insolence. He gave his disobedient woman a sharp slap meant more to humble than to hurt—his father had counseled him to always demand obedience from a woman It is a bad thing to look back, he rebuked her. It will make Chinigchinich angry with us. Firmly, he took her hand and led her along the trail.

Tai pulled away her hand and said, I will come. But do not hit me again.

Lupuk blushed with shame and anger, now directed towards him. His mother had counseled him never to hit his wife and now he had done so. Was this poor beginning just a minor quarrel or a bad omen of things to come? He could not be sure but he was plainly worried. Come, he said, I should have not have acted with such impatience. I only want…

. . . for us to be happy together. Tai often finished his words for him. She knew well this husband of hers. I shall make you proud of me, she added. I will be a good wife in this new place.

Lupuk was certain already of just which place to lead his little band. In the twenty-four sun cycles he had lived, he had grown to become a curious explorer. Often he and Manta would hunt together and wander through the countryside searching new vistas. Climbing the nearby hills afforded one a fine view of the land on days when the accumulated smoke of the hundreds of villages was blown away by the sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce winds that swept out of the canyon with the river. On a clear day, Lupuk not only could see the Great Water in the distance but great mountains rising from it on the horizon. Lupuk once wondered whether men lived on these islands but pushed the thought to the back of his mind, as it would not likely ever matter.

He had, however, followed the river downstream to the shores of this great ocean. The river flowed into a great marsh in which, during the month of the high sun, it often became lost. Along the edge of the river, guarding the land behind it, were steep bluffs which swept almost to the sea and then southward. Atop this plateau would be a fine place for a new village. It was by the same river that all in the group knew and cherished, it was safe from high water and it was uninhabited.

It was to this destination that Lupuk’s group travelled. The children were the most eager and excited. They would be tired of the journey soon enough but for now their energy was boundless. They carried with them few possessions: some stone tools and weapons, an assortment of mean kitchen utensils and their precious cog stones, which were needed for religious observances. Of these, the men carried the weapons and the little stones while the women carried the heavier items.

Some in the party wore sandals although Lupuk preferred to go barefooted. No building materials were necessary as these could easily be found in the form of Thule grass and sticks used in the building of their wickiups. They neither wore nor carried any clothing. What skins they needed for winter would be certainly obtained with no trouble in the new place. Most of the time, to ward off chilly air, Lupuk’s people would simply roll in the mud and allow the dirt to dry and cake on their skin. It was all the insulation they normally required. On this warm but cloudy day, few in the band wore even that much for their bodies they felt no shame.

Other than his domestic quarrel, the signs were favorable, thought Lupuk. The sky was lightly overcast but the air was clear, not full of soot as it often was when the smoke of nearby villages was pulled inland by the wind. Overhead, Lupuk spied a great eagle bound for the Great Water it seemed. As it appeared to beckon Lupuk, he resolved to follow its path.

As the day progressed, the women folk, burdened with their belongings and babies, began to complain of weariness. The children had tired and some were dragging behind complaining of sores on their feet.

Have we far to go? asked the Fat One, himself puffing with exertion.

With the women and children to slow our progress, Lupuk explained, we will be there when the sun rises and falls again.

We walk all night? said the Fat One with alarm.

I think there will be a village ahead, said Lupuk. Perhaps they will welcome us for one night. He had met some people from a village called Pasbengna when wandering through before. The people were of his tongue and had seemed friendly enough before.

When the sun was low in the sky, Lupuk and his followers reached the village of the Pasben. There was no question but that the inhabitants would be friendly. These were peaceful people. The tribes seldom fought with one another in this land of plenty. Only when the river was dry, did a tribe sometimes become disagreeable but that was only to preserve what little they had. In a good year, such as this one, there was no worry.

When Lupuk’s group approached the center of Pasbengna, a village of little round wickiups like Mobengna, they were greeted by an elder of the tribe. Lupuk responded in kind. Greetings from Mobengna! Lupuk announced, raising his right arm in the traditional style. We are traveling to the Great Water to begin a new village as our old one has become too crowded. We are passing by your village only.

It will soon be dark, said the elder. You must stay with us tonight and join our feast. There is a pack of coyote in the area. To camp in the open might not be wise.

Lupuk was glad for the offer but he had his misgivings. It was not treachery he feared. These people had no cause to harm him or his group. But Lupuk worried that some of the villagers might try to borrow his precious arrowheads and fishhooks or perhaps the women’s utensils.

You must stay, repeated one of the villagers, sensing Lupuk’s apparent reluctance to commit himself. The coyote are fearless and they will steal babies.

Lupuk drew Manta aside and whispered, You and I shall put all our things into a single place tonight. We will take turns watching them while the others are sleeping.

I understand, replied Manta. He knew that borrowing from others was quite customary but knew also that it was not possible to allow their hosts to do that. While the Fat One was unusually clever in carving sharp arrowheads and mystery stones of good quality, it would still require much time spent. Time that would, at first, be needed in other important tasks. It would also require good quality obsidian from which to carve the points. Without such weapons it would be difficult to catch rabbits and birds to eat.

With the assurance from Manta that all things would be cared for, Lupuk smiled at his hosts and assented. It would, in fact, be a good thing to sleep safely in the wickiups especially where the children were concerned. There was no telling what kind of strange animals might be lurking about in the night.

Everyone feasted on roasted rabbit, acorn porridge with berries and fried grasshopper. Plenty of manet, a drink made from jimson weed which made a person feel very pleasant, was on hand for the men to drink although Lupuk noticed that his was watered down compared to that which he was accustomed—but then, such economies were often necessary with a large group. When the great meal was over, the women went off to gossip about such as women were wont to discuss while the men congregated in the temescal, a large round built hut built of poles arranged in a conical shape and covered with mud and Thule grass. A great fire was built inside and the men sat about relation stories and discussing religious matters and relations with other tribes while they worked up a sweat. A discussion of spiritual matters became quite lively, as one of the native villagers had begun to relate his version of Wiyot, the moon god who had once ruled the earth.

Manta interrupted, But you do not speak of Nocuma who is the ancestor of Wiyot. Do you not admit to his prior glory?

But this is the myth which does not stand up to what is sensible, insisted an elder. "If you offer me an ancestor to Wiyot, then does not He have an ancestor?"

And does not this ancestor, interrupted another, have his own ancestor, and so forth back many generations of ancestral gods?

It was Wiyot, continued the first elder, "who first ruled before his defeat by Chinigchinich and the forces of light. Now Wiyot only rules through the forces of Moar’s dim glow when the sun is gone. If there be another before Wiyot, you show me where he now sits in the heavens."

Aha! said a very old man who had not yet spoken. I have said for many cycles of Chinigchinich’s sun that there were spirits before Wiyot. For are there not countless numbers of Sijot in the sky even when Moar is ashamed to show his face—much like a woman, hah!

After a hearty laugh by the others, Manta responded, Yes, I have thought this when I look at the night sky. I have tried to count these little lanterns but Chinigchinich leaves the sky with my strength and I tire and fall asleep.

Ha! exclaimed the argumentative Pasben, You count the Sijot in the night sky, do you? You no doubt dream of many foolish things. But you are a young man. I would that Chinigchinich return my foolish youthful days to me. But go, count the Sijot but you’ll never catch one.

Ah, laughed Lupuk, but he has! His woman is called Sijot.

And you make plenty of babies with her, eh? said the old man.

Manta looked down. He was ashamed to know that his woman had not been rendered fruitful by his seed.

Lupuk sensed his friend’s anguish for Manta had previously spoken of his problems with his woman. I am very hot now, Lupuk cried, and he let out a whoop and dashed from the smoke filled temescal and plunged into the nearby river to cool down. The others followed except for Manta who went to check on Bal-la who had been guarding their possessions.

Bal-la was fast asleep. Manta gave him a brisk kick to make him stir. Bal-la snarled and made a protest but then Manta shouted back at him, You lazy fool! You must stay awake so no one will borrow our things.

Everything is here, replied Bal-la. You don’t have to scold me. I am not a boy. Here, you watch for a time and then I’ll come back and take over again.

Manta agreed and let Bal-la take his leave. The conversation with the others had taken an unpleasant turn at any rate. To make certain that all was as it should be, Manta checked the inventory of arrowheads, fishhooks, stones, kitchen things… stones! The precious cog stones of Lupuk’s were missing!

Ayyeeeh! cried Lupuk when he heard of the bad news. My stones.

Sensing that something was amiss, the elder of Pasben hurried to the scene.

My stones have been borrowed! cried Lupuk. Without our cog stones, we will have bad luck. This is an evil omen.

The elder understood. Just recently, someone had borrowed one of his prize cog stones too. The stones were considered precious and mysterious was their power to bring good or bad fortune. Once, when the river had had one of its periodic flooding binges, the laying of the mystery stones in the expected path of the swelling river had prevented his village form being inundated. Quickly, the Pasben leader summoned his young grandson and whispered to him.

The boy nodded and was off.

Lupuk stood transfixed. The Pasben elder smiled kindly and said, Do not trouble your spirit, my friend. We have a young man in Pasbengna who treasures beautiful stones and acquires many. From where, I do not ask.

Soon the boy returned with a handful of little cogged stones carved with intricate designs. See? He smiled showing a big space between his front teeth where the new ones had yet to grow.

Ahh, sighed Lupuk with relief.

You happy now? asked the elder. Our man, Zar, probably sneaked into your bundles knowing you would carry good stones. I’m afraid he cannot resist. I shall speak to him.

Perhaps we can trade, said Lupuk smiling again. He thought it best to leave no ground whereon ill feelings might grow.

Zar would be pleased, I think. answered the elder.

So Lupuk walked to a little wickiup at the far end of the village again and poked his head inside. You are Zar? he asked a young man inside the straw hut.

Yes, replied Zar. You are not angry with me?

I am happy to have my stones. Lupuk said. Come and show me your collection. I understand you have a good many.

Yes, beamed Zar. I have borrowed many over the years, since I was a young boy. You like these? He held up a lovely pair of quartz stones most intricately carved.

I have never seen such beautiful ones as these.

By the Great Water, there are many fine pieces of stone from which to carve a gem such as this one. These two I made myself.

Lupuk did not believe Zar but he was polite. Those are well made, he said.

You trade for that one? Zar asked, pointing to a stone, which Lupuk had received many seasons before from his father.

No, Lupuk shook his head, not that one.

I will give you this one, said Zar, accepting the firmness of Lupuk’s rejection—he too had his favorites, which he would never consider trading away. But you must give me three of those others. Zar held up one of the delicate quartz stones, which Lupuk craved.

Lupuk swallowed hard. He wanted the quartz badly but three of his own was a dear price to pay for only one in return. Two, he offered.

Yah! said Zar, knowing well that he still had the better of the deal. The quartz was easier to replace than this foolish bumpkin imagined, he thought to himself. You give me two and I will give you this one.

The transaction was settled. Lupuk surrendered two little stones carved by the Fat One for the beauty of a sparkling quartz offered by Zar. He then left the wickiup and returned to his people who were bedding down for the night. They still had a long journey when the sun rose again.

Lupuk’s people were housed with the various members of their host village. The family of the Fat One had to be parceled out among many for his was a numerous brood. Lupuk and his woman, Tai, were offered a place of honor next to the hut of the Pasben elder. They would have the luxury of sleeping alone. Lupuk looked forward to this evening for although he had walked far that day, he had much energy. The thought of founding a new village where he would be the Grand Shaman was exciting. He felt a son would soon be born in this new place of his dreams. As he and Tai entered the small wickiup. Lupuk, already swollen with desire, pulled Tai close to his side.

She stiffened and complained that she was weary after such a long walk. Lupuk was disappointed that she was not of the same mind as he and he became consumed with his own need for release.

You wicked beast! accused Tai, resisting her husband’s advances. I am tired and I do not wish to sleep so close.

You are my woman, said Lupuk. I am chief of Lupuknga and I will require young braves to carry my seed.

You have one such little papoose, Tai reminded him. As if on cue, little Lupuki, who had been laid nearby inside the wickiup, began to cry aloud. You see? said Tai with not a touch of scorn, You have awakened him.

Woman, said Lupuk with all of the manly authority he could muster, I have desire this night and you refuse me. What am I to do with you?

I wish that you do nothing. I have this little one to care for now. Release your own passion if you must but leave me be.

So! Thought Lupuk to himself, this was the wife he would have for all the seasons that remained to him. He slept fitfully, dreaming of a maiden who had foolishly chosen someone other than himself for her husband two summers earlier. What might have been so!

III.

T he sun rose and found Lupuk’s people preparing for the rest of their journey. The Pasben shaman blessed them as they set out on their way, many of the tribe offered traveler’s advice on points of interest, and at what time of day they might expect to arrive at their destination. If all went well, that would be shortly after the sun had climbed to the top of the sky, which would leave the rest of the day to begin setting up the new village.

As they ambled along, one of the Fat One’s roly-poly sons cried out, Look! In the sky!

The others looked up to see a great eagle flying low, just ahead of Lupuk. Is this the eagle you saw yesterday? Manta inquired of Lupuk. This is a good sign.

Yes, said Lupuk. It is the same bird. We are blessed by Chinigchinich himself. We shall prosper.

Lupuk gazed reverently at this airborne guide and the eagle seemed to nod its noble head saying, Follow me, Lupuk, and I will lead you to a land of hope and promise.

So it was with the lore of Lupuknga that Lupuk had been directed by the eagle, sign of the Great Chinigchinich, ruler and protector of the Earth and sky.

The eagle few closely overhead, as if patiently accommodating the slow women and children who brought up the end of the line which was gallantly protected by the Fat One. The eagle led Lupuk down river to a place where the bank was high. From that place, Lupuk could see for many days walk; to the North were the great mountains ruled by Takwis and the life spring of this very river; to the south and West was the Great Water, its crashing surf heard from the spot where Lupuk stood; to the East a gently rolling incline of yellowish brown hills lay waiting for Lupuk and Manta to explore.

The eagle settled briefly atop a small clump of brush at the high point of the bluff, which rolled into the riverbed. Waiting just long enough for Lupuk to take note of the sacred spot, the great bird spread its wings and flew seaward, and beyond, probably on its way to the great island which slept imposingly on the horizon. Lupuk has seen it before and gave it a passing thought. Seeing it again, he began to fancy that he might build a canoe and visit this mysterious place.

IV.

T here was much to be done in the new place. Lupuk directed Manta and Kuun to hunt for wild game so that hungry mouths could be fed. They took with them Kuun’s son, Strong Oak. It was not customary for a boy not yet of thirteen summers on a hunting expedition. But the times were unusual, and Strong Oak would soon be old enough to take the rites; better he learned now what was to be expected of him thought Lupuk.

The Fat One and Bal-la were assigned the task of supervising the gathering of sticks and other materials to build as many wickiups as were immediately necessary. The Fat One decided it was his duty to supervise Bal-la who resentfully did most of the work while directing his private anger at Lupuk who had assigned him this woman’s task of gathering sticks. He should be out hunting animals with the others instead of a mere boy.

Lupuk paced out the places where each wickiup was to be built. For each family there was to be one wickiup for now, except for the Fat One who would require two. The second one would, however, have to wait at least until other more essential structures were completed. The temescal would be built in the center of the cluster of personal dwellings as it would serve as the central meeting place—for the men as well as a social club. Lupuk decided that a smaller sweat house would also be built later down by the riverbank so that the men could plunge into the cold water after a hot sweat session. He felt fortunate to have such a fine spot on the high ground so close to the river for his people had grown accustomed to an early morning bath each day.

For the women, a maternity house would also be needed—not immediately, but in time for Manta’s wife to have her child which was hopefully to be conceived soon as well as for Mateka, who was undoubtedly pregnant as well although one could never be quite certain. Also, a women’s house was to be build downstream away from the rest of the settlement so that the wives had a place to sleep when they were unclean. Custom forbade a man to sleep with his woman during such a time.

The settlement was nearly complete within a few days thanks to the great abundance of virgin willow and Thule close by. Building wickiups was usually a relatively simple task and these people were quite accustomed to frequent moving around from season to season, or whenever the old wickiup got to dirty to stand any longer. Theirs was a splendid location and Lupuk was at some loss to imagine how this spot had not been previously claimed by some other clan. A quick survey of the surrounding areas revealed that no finer place to live could possible exist anywhere.

As night fell upon the fifth day and Moar, waxing full, made his predictable journey across the sky, Lupuk bedded down with Tai and baby Lupuki. He cuddled his infant son while Tai fell asleep and peered out of the opening in the wickiup towards the bright nighttime sky. The countless Sijot that mixed together in a great white haze seemed to strangely beckon Lupuk. He gathered up his son and stepped out into the night air and gazed upward, transfixed by what he saw.

In the East above the hills shone the Evening Star, brighter than Lupuk could recall. He pondered his place in the great realm of the god, Chinigchinich, and started to wonder about whom he was and what was to become of his children’s children down to untold generations. While other men in other epochs in faraway lands had perhaps considered this question many times, Lupuk had not. But now, he was Shaman. The others would look to him for guidance and he must know the mysteries of life. Even in a simple age, men were vexed by complex questions.

Lupuk knew that he was not prepared to answer such questions. He held his little son in his arms; Lupuki stared at his father as if to bear witness to his admiration. Lupuk cold only return the gaze with the thought that he must earn such devotion. He knew what he had to do next, now that the village was settled down.

Lupuk set out alone the following morning. He instructed the other men to hunt and watch over the village for Lupuk could not say when he might return. To Manta, he entrusted his precious mystery stones. Lupuk had no fear of not returning for had he not been beckoned by Chinigchinich’s little sister suns of the night to seek out Truth? He was certainly on a mission of the Great Chinigchinich and could come to know harm. But it was always wise to take precautions.

V.

L upuk had a sense that he was not alone. He put down the abalone upon which he had greedily feasted while he squatted next to the tide pool and looked about. Nothing. He continued to eat, a bit less at ease. It had been a strange day; the second one of his personal exploration and throughout, Lupuk had felt as though he was being stalked by a man or two. But where were they?

He had followed the river all the way to where it rushed into the sea. He had explored the sandy beaches and stagnant marshlands along the coast. And then, moving southward, he had arrived at the bay of Genga or bay of the high banks which he had remembered from an earlier expedition with Manta. Then, the two of them had discovered a source of abalone, a prized delicacy quite popular among his people but rarely obtained inland. It was the added value of being encased in a rather useful, and pretty, shell much prized by the women. Manta had originally discovered a rocky ledge that directly met the still waters of a bay protected by sandbars. It was a safe spot from which to harvest the abalone.

Or was it? Lupuk turned around again, quite certain that someone was close. There was no man anywhere. Perhaps this lagoon was inhabited by a jealous spirit who wished not to share his abalone. Lupuk had indeed been very selfish in gorging himself to excess.

Lupuk stood up and threw down his half-eaten abalone. He sensed that he must leave quickly. He gathered his things and looked up at the bluffs overhead. There he imagined he saw three figures poised with spears in hand. He turned around and, not ten feet away, saw five more men, very real and fierce looking

Not wishing to be so helpless, Lupuk maneuvered for a better footing, and to position his own spear for attack. He slipped on something wet and lost his balance. Falling backwards, his head struck a rock and for Lupuk the world was pitch black.

VI.

Lupuk is dead, declared Bal-la. We must return to Mobengna and leave this place.

It is Tai’s fault, Kuun added. It was she who looked back when we left Mobengna. She brought us bad fortune.

Manta wasn’t certain about anything. A week had passed since Lupuk had left the little village that now bore his name. Nothing had been seen of him since then. A small search party had been organized to follow his trail and they had found a broken spear tip, which the Fat One later identified. Aside from that, nothing.

If Lupuk were alive, questioned Bal-la, would he not have returned to us by now? He is certainly dead.

But the eagle, protested the Fat One. Lupuk says that it spoke to him. Surely, he would not meet with ill fortune so soon after such a grand omen. An eagle speaks to a man but once in ten thousand moons. Lupuk is blessed and no harm will befall him.

You fat old fool, chided Bal-la. "I care nothing for silly stories of a dreamer. We must be practical. Lupuk is dead and we must leave this doomed place."

Bal-la had his own reasons for wanting to go back. There was much hard work to be done in building a new village. He reasoned that with one less man—and the best of the lot so far as hunting was concerned—that times had become too difficult. And worse was the prospect of Manta being in charge. Bal-la did not like Manta although he didn’t quite understand why nor stop to consider it.

I agree with Bal-la, Kuun said. We might go home and begin in the next time of the high noon. He shook his head as though the situation were indeed hopeless.

The Fat One looked at Manta for direction. He rather had begun to like his new place. His responsibilities were to supervise the village when the other men were on the hunt and to put to good his artistic and medicinal talents. For the first time in his life he had felt important, thus satisfying the ambitions of his loving, if sometimes nagging, wife. Terrifying was the prospect of another long search and a return to mediocrity.

Manta sensed the Fat One’s support and was grateful. No, he said with renewed firmness, We stay. If Lupuk is alive he will return. Should he find that we have deserted, we will be disgraced. If he be dead, then his spirit will guide us to prosperity unless we leave whereby he will certainly become angry. He will curse our wives and they will be made barren. Then we will have no more children.

Your wife is barren now, remarked Bal-la with intended malevolence. In three years she has had no sons. She has not even produced daughters. A worthless woman, she.

At this impertinence, Manta became enraged. You speak with great cruelty, Bal-la, you who fell asleep and nearly lost our stones. I know what makes you wish to leave this place. You are lazy and unwilling to work to build a new village. If you wish to go, Bal-la, then go. I will stay in Lupuknga.

I, too, said the Fat One with newly found conviction, I will stay and help build Lupuknga into the greatest of all villages. And you, Kuun? Will you desert this place as well?

Kuun looked at Bal-la for whom he began to feel contempt and then at the truly noble Manta and the Fat One of Many Surprises. It was true what Manta had angrily said about Bal-la. Bal-la was lazy. It would be no honor to return to Mobengna with him. And Manta? His position was the sensible one but Kuun could foresee much trouble in Lupuknga without Lupuk. Bal-la and Manta now so detested each other that they were bound to come to blows and that would be a terrible thing. Kuun said, I will remain here and offer a prayer unto Chinigchinich to safely deliver Lupuk to us soon.

There could be no other choice. Hardship with honor was better than returning to an easier life without it. Life in Lupuknga would be hard, too. The burden of hunting would fall mainly upon Manta and Kuun—and perhaps Strong Oak when he became of age. Bal-la was too lazy and not skilled at hunting and the Fat One, well he was good at making things in camp but would be useless—even a hindrance—on the hunt. Also, there was Manta’s leadership to consider. Manta was a well meaning and able man but he was also very proud and was not able to bring about a consensus in a manner that left everyone satisfied, as Lupuk seemed to do. Nonetheless, all of this was preferable to shame. And, was there any guarantee that the Mobengnans would take them back?

As the others considered these factors, they turned to Bal-la who now squirmed with discomfort. He could never return to Mobengna alone. I will stay, he said stoically. He made a private vow to find some way to even the score with Manta. He would not be so humiliated and not get even.

Lupuk had been worth two men in the search for game. Without him, there was far less meat to eat in Lupuknga, only the men and the oldest boys would have it and the women would have to make do with whatever acorn mash and berries were left over. For three weeks of scarcity Lupuknga struggled to maintain itself while beset with intrigue and hard feelings.

The wickiups had all finally been completed with the women, under the Fat One’s expert supervision, doing the work. There remained to be built the maternity house, but it could wait for Mateka wasn’t pregnant after all and there was apparently no change of Sijot to have such a need for any time soon. The pattern of life, so far as could be expected, had settled down into a general routine. The women spent the day gathering what berries were still in season and whatever acorns they could find from the previous autumn and grinding them into mush in their stone metates. In between their chores of preparing food and cleaning their huts, the wives alternately played with and scolded their unruly children.

The young ones had few worries, save for being sent to bed with still unsatisfied stomachs. They amused themselves with such ancient pursuits as ball and stick and a kind of shell game. The men would also play a version of this and gamble in this manner.

Strong Oak, the eldest boy in the village, was reaching that time in his youth when the games of mere children seemed trite and silly. He was beginning to feel the urges and desires of manhood and thought of himself as strong enough to participate in the hunt for bear. He would practice with his father’s bow and with his spear until he could hit swift rabbits with precision—and endearing himself to his mother for the added tidbit for supper. One day he went to his father and asked to be allowed to accompany the men on their next big hunt when they would remain out of camp overnight.

Kuun smiled at Strong Oak who was nearly as tall as he was. Since you ask me with such sincerity, I must say ‘yes’. But if I am disappointed, then for an entire cycle of the sun, you must not ask me again.

Determined to prove his worth, Strong Oak replied, Father, I will not disappoint you. You will see.

Kuun did require the consent of the other men. All agreed except Bal-la who insisted that his son, Bal-Quu, be also allowed to join the hunting party.

But Bal-Quu is smaller and younger than Strong Oak, said Manta, I do not think he is ready.

If Strong Oak hunts snarled Bal-la, My son will hunt. If my son does not hunt, the Strong Oak does not hunt.

Bal-la refused to budge from his position on this matter no matter how hard Manta attempted to reason with him. But Manta needed the extra hand and he felt Strong Oak should not be held back when they were short handed. He agreed to allow Bal-Quu, immature as he was, to go. Just this once.

Bal-Quu was lucky. On the second morning of the trip, he spotted a coyote. By himself, he aimed his arrow and killed it. It was Strong Oak, however, who spotted the bear tracks. He examined the dung and decided that the beast had been there that very morning. The men tracked it for half a day into a canyon in the foothills. Killing it would be Manta’s right.

However, Manta was blinded by his anger with Bal-la for bringing his worthless and stupid boy on a man’s errand. The boy had caught the coyote but he had also blubbered about being away from home at night and having to sleep in the brush. He had been slow and his foot was sore; he held up everyone else.

Killing the bear, while a dangerous confrontation, should have been routine for Manta who had killed twenty bears. When he caught sight of the beast, it hadn’t seen him at all. Slowly, Manta crept up on a ledge above the animal’s feeding place and took aim. The others circled around quietly so as to trap the bear—in case Manta missed and needed a second shot. But Manta couldn’t miss at such a close range this still unaware grizzly.

He raised his arm and hurled his point directly at the target. At the same instant, a twig snapped beneath his foot and the alerted bruin reeled around. The spear just missed him. Manta fumbled for a second shot with his spare but his up to now sleepy creature was suddenly quick. Manta failed to raise his spear before the bear had torn into him, broadside.

Strong Oak had witnessed everything at close range. As Manta desperately tried to aim his second spear, Strong Oak took his out his own weapon and hurled it at the bear just as the beast lunged into Manta. It was killed instantly and Manta sustained only minor skin wounds. His real hurt was in his own failure while Strong Oak and even little Bal-Quu distinguished themselves.

The next step, of course, was formal initiation. Strong Oak, though large for a boy of thirteen, was just barely old enough according to Mobengnan tradition. But Bal-Quu was a full year younger and had not even started to show signs of manhood on his body. Of the eleven other children in Lupuknga, five were males in addition to Bal-Quu and Strong Oak. None of these were even remotely close to reaching puberty.

Manta proposed that Strong Oak be initiated alone. Kuun protested this and said that it would not be right for his son to have no blood brother with whom to share the sacred rites. He proposed Bal-Quu’s name. Manta did not personally approve but he could not deny this considering the circumstances of the hunt and the fact that men were in short supply. He hoped that this would at least mollify Bal-la and bring peace to the little community.

On the designated night, a bonfire was