BEACHCOMBERS and refugees, criminals and missionaries. The islands are full of visitors both temporary and permanent. It has been said that there are only two kinds of plots: a person goes on a journey and a stranger comes to town. If that is true, the history of the islands has been full of strangers coming to town.
But now comes a twist on a familiar theme, for here is a story of two strangers that came to town that never left, but also forever remained strangers.
A tourist visited Fiji and noticed two men who looked out of place. It was clear that no one minded their presence, that is, no one kept an eye on them or pulled their children away, yet by their physical look and countenance they were clearly from somewhere else. They acted like outsiders, yet the community barely noticed them, went on as if they were not there. Clearly, they were not a threat.
The tourist inquired about the men and was told the curious story of how they came to Fiji. A cargo ship was steaming from Australia to the capital of Suva when it spotted a small boat drifting about two hundred miles offshore. When they investigated, they found these two men sprawled in the bottom, listless and starving. They took them aboard and, while providing food and medical attention, tried to learn their identities. Were they escaped convicts, lost fishermen, adventurers overwhelmed by circumstances, explorers who survived some nautical disaster?
Alas, nothing could be gained. The ship’s crew tried to understand the two men, but their language was unfamiliar and although the two spoke among themselves and even tried to communicate with their rescuers, they made no great effort to be understood, which in itself was suspicious. If they had family, surely they would want to send word of their deliverance. If they were sailors, from where were they coming and where were they going? The two did not seem to mind if no one knew these details about them. That led to the conclusion that they were on the run, perhaps escaped convicts, perpetrators of some heinous crime.
The ship captain contacted authorities in Australia and New Zealand, but there were no convicts unaccounted for and no unsolved crimes for which they could be tied. To be clear, it could not even be fixed that the men were white or spoke English. Their appearance was suggestive, but not conclusive.
The captain had no choice but to take them to Fiji with him, and there the men stayed. Without a reason to arrest them, the authorities left them alone and the men showed no desire to leave. They got jobs, stayed together and kept to themselves, but never presented a threat or acted suspicious. In fact, they were kind to whom they met, although they did not learn the local language and made no effort to identify theirs. After some time, the community just accepted that these two men were among them. They did not know who they were or where they were from, yet it was abundantly clear to everyone that they were harmless.
Tradition holds that the two men grew old, died and were buried in the cemetery under tombstones that read “Unknown Man 1” and “Unknown Man 2.” Who were they, where did they come from, and why? As mysterious as the White Woman of Majuro, we will probably never know their story.
BC Cook, PhD taught history for over 20 years. He lived on Saipan and travels the Pacific but currently lives on the mainland U.S.
BC Cook
