THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

Meanwhile the Ladrones were mustering in the wooded hills.  The islands were aroused; war drums beat; swift proas were coming from the north.  These natives who had never seen an arrow were preparing to descend upon the ships in overwhelming force.  So backward were the savages that they would stand in astonishment when an arrow pierced them and draw it out by either end, staring at it until they died.

*

Here was the first restful haven entered by the armada, and also the last.  The heady perfume of spices wafted from the shore; they were lulled by the drum of surf on a perfect crescent of land.  Gay plumed birds sang in the dark, cool forest.  The leaves even rustled a welcome as the ships’ boats were beached.  Here, at long last, was peace.

Riesenberg/Pacific, 1947