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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Stevenson's Shrine
+       The Record of a Pilgrimage
+
+Author: Laura Stubbs
+
+Release Date: July 17, 2011 [EBook #36763]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVENSON'S SHRINE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+STEVENSON'S SHRINE
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _The Grave._]
+
+
+
+
+  STEVENSON'S SHRINE
+
+  THE RECORD OF A PILGRIMAGE
+
+
+  By LAURA STUBBS
+
+
+  BOSTON
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  INCORPORATED
+  1903
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+                                                      PAGE
+
+  CHAPTER I.    The Voyage--Auckland to Tonga            5
+
+  CHAPTER II.    "     "    Vavau to Samoa              15
+
+  CHAPTER III.   "    "    Vailima and the SHRINE       26
+
+  CHAPTER IV.   The Aftermath--Fiji to Sydney           53
+
+
+
+
+List of Plates
+
+
+  THE GRAVE                                 _Frontispiece_
+
+  A CORAL GARDEN                         _To face page_  6
+
+  TONGA VILLAGE                                "         8
+
+  TRILITHON IN TONGA                           "        13
+
+  HARBOUR OF VAVAU                             "        15
+
+  KAVA-MAKING                                  "        18
+
+  TOWN OF APIA                                 "        23
+
+  "ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART"                   "        27
+
+  KAVA FEAST                                   "        29
+
+  THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA (FRONT VIEW)            "        31
+
+  THE HALL AT VAILIMA                          "        32
+
+  VIEW OF VAILIMA FROM THE GRAVE               "        39
+
+  THE STAIRCASE AT VAILIMA                     "        41
+
+  THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA (END VIEW)              "        42
+
+  NATIVE FEAST AT VAILIMA                      "        44
+
+  ONE OF THE FIVE RIVERS AT VAILIMA            "        46
+
+  ANOTHER OF THE FIVE RIVERS                   "        48
+
+  DANCE OF SAMOAN NATIVES                      "        50
+
+  VIEW IN FIJI                                 "        53
+
+  FIJIAN BOAT                                  "        56
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MAP OF A PORTION OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC SHOWING SAMOA AND
+SOCIETY ISLANDS]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+    "The first love, the first sunrise, the first South Sea Island, are
+    memories apart and touch a virginity of sense."
+
+    "My soul went down with these moorings whence no windlass may extract
+    nor any diver fish it up."
+
+    _Robert Louis Stevenson._
+
+
+I, a lover of the man, personally unknown to me, save through the potency
+of his pen, journeyed across the world in order to visit his grave, and to
+get into direct touch with his surroundings.
+
+The voyage to the Antipodes does not come within the compass of this
+little book; enough that in September, 1892, I left Auckland (New Zealand)
+in the Union Company's Steamship Manipouri, for a cruise among the South
+Sea Islands, and that our first port of call was Nukualofa, one of the
+Tongan group.
+
+Here I stood on a little grass-covered wharf, and, looking down through
+the translucent water, made my first acquaintance with a coral garden. Oh!
+that wonderful water world with its wealth of sprays, flowers, and
+madrepores, amongst which the tiny rainbow-coloured fishes darted in and
+out like submarine humming-birds--wingless, but brilliant--living flecks
+of colour, flashing through a fairy region. The unreality of the scene
+took hold of me. If this were real I must be enchanted, looking downwards
+with enchanted eyes.
+
+As one who dreams I walked inland, following a most fascinating green turf
+path soft as velvet to the tread. There are no roads in Nukualofa, green
+turf paths serve instead; indeed the whole of the little island, with its
+long stately avenues of coconut palms, its sheltering bowers of banyan
+trees, its groups of bananas, and groves of orange and other tropical
+trees too numerous and too varied to describe, seems one beautiful and
+universal park. Every few minutes I came across a vivid patch of scarlet,
+yellow, or white hibiscus; great trailing lengths of blue convolvulus,
+many tendrilled and giant blossomed, garlanded the trees, and not
+unfrequently flung an almost impenetrable barrier across the path. These
+paths are separated from the universal park by--a fencing of barbed
+wire! But the little tram line, which terminates at the wharf, was
+bordered with turf of a moss-like softness, and even between its rails the
+grass grew thickly.[1]
+
+
+[Illustration: A CORAL GARDEN
+
+_To face page 6_]]
+
+
+The whole island was encircled by a giant fringe of coral, white and
+glistening, at one side of which was a natural opening leading to the
+little harbour. The light at sunset upon this reef was like the refraction
+of some hidden prism, shimmering opalescent, a suffusion of vague and
+unspeakably lovely hues.
+
+After walking for some time I suddenly came within sight of a palm-fringed
+lagoon. Upon its unruffled blue surface two native girls were paddling a
+small canoe. Their attire was slight, and their polished skins, gleaming
+with coconut oil, shone like mahogany. They stared for a moment at the new
+arrival with all the _naïveté_ of children, then with a rippling laugh
+they paddled to the bank and began to talk. As I listened to the unknown
+accents of their musical tongue I was filled with bitterness to think
+that though so near, we were nevertheless so far apart. A smile however is
+always current coin, and before we parted many a one had been exchanged.
+
+In slight relief, amid the brilliant-hued orange-trees, the tall
+feathery-topped coconut palms, the dark green spreading bread-fruit trees,
+and the broad-leaved _pandanus_ or screw-pines, the brown huts of the
+natives showed up at intervals. Flung down at random on the verdant
+carpet, which flourished up to their very doors, thatched with long
+screw-pine leaves and lashed together with coconut fibre, with never an
+angle between them, I have been assured, by more than one resident of
+authority, that they stand the brunt of a hurricane better than the best
+houses built by Europeans. Outside these huts, sitting or standing, or
+lounging about in indolent inaction, were native men, women, and
+children--dear little brown-skinned babies, innocent of any attire save
+their original "birthday suit," rolled and tumbled on the grass. As I
+passed on my way the women and girls nodded and smiled, and gave me their
+musical greeting of "Mehola lelai," and before I was out of sight called
+after me "Nofa, Nofa"--the native "Good-bye," which means literally "Stay,
+stay." And everywhere could be heard the tap tap of the kava stones, and
+the rhythmic beating out of the "tapa."
+
+
+[Illustration: TONGA VILLAGE, WITH ROUND HOUSES
+
+_To face page 8_]]
+
+
+This "Tapa" (or "Ngata") cloth is very pretty. It is made from the
+bleached and beaten out bark of a tree, and is decorated with rude designs
+which the natives trace with a piece of charred stick, and which represent
+squares, circles, angles, stars, even at times the outline of the flying
+fox. The colouring matter used to complete the patterns is of a black or
+brown tint, and is made from a decoction of bark; a piece of cloth, or
+hibiscus fibre is employed as a brush, and when the work is finished the
+effect is charming.
+
+I tasted a green coconut plucked direct from the palm by a native, who,
+bribed by a shilling, scaled the long, straight stem at my request. The
+milk contained in the shell (though perhaps a trifle sickly) was
+deliciously cool, and on a hot day most refreshing.
+
+The attire of the natives of the Tongan group is extremely picturesque and
+harmonises admirably with their surroundings. Holy Tonga and indeed all
+the islands of this group are subject to a curious law which enacts that
+all classes of natives, whether male or female, must wear an upper as well
+as a lower garment. Both men and women adorn themselves with flowers,
+garlands about their necks, wreaths of flowers in their hair. The air was
+heavy with the scent of orange blossom, cape jasmine, and frangipani.
+
+I sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and watched the little sheeny
+blue-tailed lizards flicker to and fro, and indeed it was delicious to
+feel no fear of poisonous reptiles, for in these delectable isles there
+are none, no snakes--save the beautiful and harmless water snakes--no
+scorpions, no centipedes, not even the death-dealing spider of New
+Zealand.
+
+Our steamer left Nukualofa that evening, and we took on board a number of
+natives bound for Samoa. The entire population of the island seemed to
+have gathered together in a picturesque group on the shore to bid them
+farewell; and this group formed a brilliant foreground to our parting view
+of Tonga, with its green esplanade, its villa palace, its church and its
+white Government Offices, the latter of which stood boldly out against the
+groves of bananas and long feathery vistas of coconut palms.[2]
+
+We steamed out of the harbour of Nukualofa by a different passage to that
+by which we had entered, and before we passed the reef we had to make our
+way through a perfect network of little islands, all alike, palm-fringed
+and scattered about at random like flowers in a meadow.
+
+Like beasts of prey the white waves leapt against the coral barrier, and
+to right and left of us for a brief space showed white gleams of reef, but
+a moment later we had left the treacherous surf behind us and were
+steaming across a deep purple fathomless ocean. As I stood on the deck
+still gazing shoreward, the foam of the waves became azure under my eyes,
+whilst delicately-coloured flying-fish, denizens of two elements, skimmed
+like gigantic sea-butterflies over the surface of the water, flitting to
+and fro in the uncontrolled enjoyment of life and motion.
+
+That night the native passengers, rolled up in Tapa, their heads resting
+on hollow wooden pillows, camped on deck; the scent of the coconut oil
+with which they anointed their sleek smooth bodies was quite overpowering,
+especially when blended with the fragrance of the cissies (or flower
+girdles) worn around their waists, and with that of the garlands of
+flowers and berries hung so lavishly about their necks.
+
+A tropic night, and the moon at the full! The pure white radiance threw
+everything into strong relief. The natives slept at intervals and danced
+at intervals, crooning a strange weird chant to the accompaniment of much
+beating of hands.
+
+By daylight next morning we anchored in the roadstead of Lefuka, the
+principal island in the Haapai group. A long low shore, a foreground of
+white sand, a fringe of coconut palms with thicker vegetation beyond,
+brown thatched roofs of native houses, and white ones of Europeans! Such
+was Pangai town as seen from the deck of our steamer. Seaward, on the
+other hand, there was the already familiar line of coral reef and a score
+of "Summer isles of Eden lying in dark purple spheres of sea."
+
+
+[Illustration: HAAMUNGA OR TRILITHON IN TONGA
+
+_To face page 13_]]
+
+
+The whole of our passengers, just six in number, landed for a tour of
+inspection. In front of nearly every native house, a horse was hobbled,
+but in spite of the abundance of green pasturage the unfortunate animals
+looked half starved, and their thin legs were so weak that I wondered how
+they could do any work at all. On quitting the town, however, we left the
+houses behind, and strolled away into the bush, where we again had only
+the green turf under our feet, and again saw round us an absolutely level
+country. Meanwhile, huge fronds of coconut palms did their best to shield
+us from the sun, and the broad leaves of the banana cast cool shadows
+across our path. Before we had gone far, the most wonderful lean, lank,
+long-legged, reddish-brown pigs went scudding across our track, and
+disappeared amongst the trees. They were the direct descendants, I was
+told, of the pigs left here by Captain Cook. It did not take us more
+than an hour to walk right across Lefuka, until we reached its eastern
+shore. The tide was dead low, and we could see the outlines of the dry
+coral reefs, which connect all these islands as with a chain. On the way,
+one of our party related how, not so long ago, the coast was bodily raised
+twenty feet higher by an earthquake, and how the earthquake was followed
+by a great tidal wave. A halt was called, and while we rested on the coral
+beach and ate our fill of "mummy" apples[3]--one of our company amused us
+with the account of a wonderful Haamunga or Trilithon in Tonga, which,
+alas, we had no chance of visiting. This Trilithon, which is about sixteen
+miles inland from Tongatabu, seems to afford evidence of the former
+existence, in Tonga, of an ancient civilisation, that of some bygone
+people who, in common with the Maories, were possessed of religious
+instincts far in advance of the conquering Polynesians, who succeeded
+them. It consists of two enormous upright blocks of stone with a massive
+slab on the top, the latter being curiously countersunk into the two
+uprights. The whole structure is strongly reminiscent of our cromlechs at
+Stonehenge and elsewhere, recalling the theory of a universal sun
+worship. We talked this subject out as we sat, under the shade of the
+palms, on the sun-warmed beach, then we returned to the landing stage by
+another route.
+
+On these low-lying islands the coconut palms thrive well and bear
+abundantly, for there is nothing to impede the passage of the strong salt
+breeze right across the level surface of the Haapaian group, and without
+this strong salt air the coconut cannot thrive.
+
+From Lefuka we steamed to Vavau, but as our arrival in Vavau marks the
+second stage in my pilgrimage, I will reserve it for a fresh chapter.
+Henceforth, we were to be confronted by an entirely new type of landscape;
+the reign of the level surface was ended.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: HARBOUR OF VAVAU
+
+_To face page 15_]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+  "The coral waxes, the palm grows, but man departs."
+                                    _From an old Tahitian proverb._
+
+
+We entered the land-locked harbour of Vavau in all the glory of a moon
+scarcely past the full. And what a contrast to the islands from which we
+had just parted! On every side of us towered mountains, broken, rugged,
+height upon height, peak above peak. In every crevice of the mountain the
+forest harboured, and everywhere flourished the feathery palm, that
+Giraffe of Vegetables, as Stevenson so humorously describes it, nestling,
+crowding, climbing to the summit.
+
+It was midnight before we anchored alongside the jetty. The morning light
+showed us all the varied beauty of the port of Neiaufu. In place of the
+level shores, rising only a few feet above high-water mark, bold and
+rugged headlands jutted seawards, and every islet in the Archipelago was
+clear and definite. Let Stevenson, however, here speak in person, for
+though he is not dealing with this particular island, yet his description
+might have been written for it. "The land heaved up in peaks and rising
+vales; it fell in cliffs and buttresses; its colour ran through fifty
+modulations in a scale of pearl, rose and olive; and it was crowned above
+by opalescent clouds. The suffusion of vague hues deceived the eye; the
+shadows of clouds were confounded with the articulations of the mountain,
+and the isle and its unsubstantial canopy rose and shimmered before us
+like a single mass."
+
+Wooded hills, which spring from the water's edge, surround what seems to
+be a beautiful lagoon, some four miles long and two wide. At the eastern
+end there is a very narrow boat-passage. Our entrance was effected by the
+western passage, which is also narrow but has deep water at the point. On
+either side were white signal beacons, such as I have seen at the mouth of
+the Brisbane. The great wharf to which we were moored was approached by a
+road of coral, white to the point of dazzlement in the tropic sunshine.
+The foreshore was being reclaimed by prison labour; the prisoners, men as
+well as women, looked sleek and well favoured, they chanted songs as they
+worked, and showed no signs about them whatever of ill-usage or
+over-strain.
+
+There is no beach at Vavau. On the sloping banks, which are green to the
+water's edge, thatched houses peep through the orange-trees; indeed the
+whole island seems one delightful orange grove, the sward was everywhere
+littered with the freshly fallen fruit, the air was fragrant with the
+subtle essence of blossom and fruit combined. With the exception of the
+coral road leading to the jetty, all the paths at Nieaufu (as at
+Nukualofa) are simply long stretches of green sward, overspread with
+orange-trees. We climbed a steep hill, and while we rested on the top,
+feasted our eyes upon a sight which was one to dream of. Everywhere little
+cone-shaped islands outlined with big-fronded palms, everywhere that
+wonderful violet sea, and between the golden gleam of the oranges we saw
+the deep blue of the sky. It was an ecstasy in colour, a vision rather
+than a prospect. From henceforth my standard of the beautiful was lifted
+to a higher plane, and the words "The eye hath not seen, neither hath it
+entered into the heart of man to conceive," had, for me, acquired a deeper
+and intenser significance.
+
+On the way back we encountered a French Catholic priest, and after a
+little chat the old man took us to his house and initiated us into the
+mysteries of Kava drinking. Stevenson tells us so much about Kava and Kava
+feasts, that I make no apology for describing the process. The priest's
+room was very plainly furnished, in the centre was the bowl carved out of
+a solid block of wood and standing on four legs. That it had been long in
+use was evident from the fine opalescent enamelling of the inside. Beside
+it were the Kava stones.
+
+Two native girls appeared bearing the Kava--the root of the _Piper
+Methysticum_, about which in its raw state there was nothing at all
+distinctive. Pieces of the Kava were torn, or bitten off, pounded between
+the two stones and cast into the bowl. Then while one of the girls brought
+water and poured it upon the pounded root, the other, with shapely brown
+arms bare to the shoulder, kneaded the mass, until the whole virtue of the
+Kava was expressed into the water.
+
+Not until the bowl was half full of a frothy, muddy mixture did the
+straining process begin. A lump of fibre, made from the bark of the yellow
+hibiscus, was cast into the Kava, and the girls with arms dipped in the
+mixture up to the elbow, proceeded to take up the liquor with this
+improvised sponge, wring it over the bowl till it was dry, and fill it
+again, repeating this process until the fibre had absorbed all the gritty
+particles.
+
+
+[Illustration: NATIVE GIRLS MAKING KAVA
+
+_To face page 18_]]
+
+
+The Kava was now ready for drinking, and with great ceremony one of the
+girls filled a half coconut shell with the liquor and handed it to one of
+our number, who, as the custom is, drained it without drawing a breath,
+and then sent the empty cup spinning like a tee-to-tum across the floor to
+the girls.
+
+My turn came soon and I never saw a more uninviting looking drink,
+nevertheless I boldly followed the example set me and emptied the shell.
+The bitter, hot, acrid taste seemed to me at first nauseating to the last
+degree--but after! To appreciate Kava you must estimate it from the
+standpoint of _After_. My mouth felt clean, cool, wholesome, and
+invigorated as it had never felt before, and never will again until by
+good chance I light upon another bowl of Kava.
+
+"Have you found it good?" inquired the old priest in French. My "Mais oui,
+Monsieur, après," raised a general laugh. Nevertheless the opinion was
+unanimous that it is only in the "Après" that you can enjoy Kava. To
+define a sensation is difficult, but most of us are familiar with the
+effect of the external application of menthol. Transfer that effect to an
+internal sensation (on a very hot day), and you will then know something
+of the delights of Kava drinking.
+
+That afternoon we hired a sailing-boat and paid a visit to a cave some
+four miles down the harbour. The entrance looked impossible for so large a
+boat as ours, but our native boatman hauled down the sail and assured us
+that it was all right. Like Brer Rabbit, we "lay low," and when we lifted
+ourselves up we were inside.
+
+Wonderful, dreamlike, unreal, impossible: that was the general verdict.
+Like giant icicles that had never felt the touch of frost the huge, green,
+semi-transparent and sharply pointed stalactites clustered about the
+entrance. From floor to vaulted roof rose buttressed columns dividing the
+cave into shadowy alcoves, and as for size--you could put the Blue Grotto
+at Capri into one of those alcoves. The lofty arched roof was fretted like
+that of a cathedral, but it was the light, not the vast outlines, that
+arrested me, and held me spellbound--the weird effect of the sunshine
+without reflected through the medium of this dim water world.
+
+I can describe what I saw, but I cannot hope to convey any idea of the
+sensation produced by the eye-witness. Gliding to and fro in sinuous coils
+were long striped water-snakes, blue and black, pink and black, green and
+black. Did Matthew Arnold dream of such a cavern when he wrote:
+
+  "When the sea snakes coil and turn,
+  Dry their mail, and bask in the brine"?
+
+Our boatman caught two of the sheeny, harmless creatures, and after
+hooding them we carried them back to the steamer, but pity proved stronger
+than the lust of possession and we gave them their liberty. I can see them
+now (as one after the other I threw them over the side) making directly
+for the cave. Did they reach it? Who shall say?
+
+Glued to the fretted roof were the nests of innumerable swallows, and in
+the dim innermost recesses queer bat-like creatures hung suspended by
+their claws. An eerie feeling possessed us, a sudden silence reigned, the
+impossible seemed possible here, the real unreal. One of our native
+boatmen struck the rock with the butt-end of an oar--it gave back a
+strange, reverberant, hollow sound, then from the darkness within came a
+weird, mocking echo.
+
+With the help of a rope, furnished by our helmsman, I climbed a sort of
+natural stairway, and crouching on an overhanging ledge, looked down. The
+peculiar malachite green of the water now seemed intensified a
+hundred-fold, and the boat, its occupants, even the coral garden below,
+became green under my eyes. The cave was as cold as winter inside, in
+spite of the tropical heat without--cold and yet airless, as if the spell
+of an enchantment held the place in thrall. One and all we were glad to
+back out of it, re-hoist the sail, and return to our floating home.
+
+Not far from this cave was a barren rock, standing out above the sea,
+stark and sheer, a veritable All-Alone-Stone, only that there was no Madam
+Gairfowl perched thereon. Below this rock is a submarine cavern, only to
+be reached by diving. Here, so the legend goes, an island chief once held
+a beautiful maiden in thrall, until he won her to his will. He had stolen
+her from her tribe and here he hid her. In this same cavern, too, in more
+recent years, a maiden of Vavau saved the life of her wounded lover by
+nursing him secretly during the course of a tribal feud. For the details
+of these pretty stories, however, I must refer my readers to Mariner's
+"Tonga." I was further told that the captain of a British man-of-war once
+had the hardihood to dive in search of the entrance of this cave, and that
+he found it to be all that it was described, but that in returning to the
+surface he grazed his back against the coral, and died a few days later of
+acute blood poisoning.
+
+
+[Illustration: TOWN OF APIA
+
+_To face page 23_]]
+
+
+At sunset we heaved the anchor and steamed for Apia. Our course was still
+in a north-easterly direction and so continued for three hundred and
+forty-five miles, when we attained the Samoan or Navigator group. This
+last name was given by their discoverer, Bougainville, who christened them
+thus out of compliment to the dexterity of the natives, whom he found
+sailing their canoes far out at sea.
+
+The group consists of ten inhabited islands, of which the principal are
+Savaai, Upolu, Tutuila, Manu'a Olosenga, Ofu, Manono, and Apolima.
+Upolu--Stevenson's Island--although not the largest, is by far the most
+important. It is forty miles long and ten broad. We passed along the
+eastern end, coasting along two lovely rocky islets covered with
+vegetation of the most varied green.
+
+The capital of Upoli is Apia, and this town gives its name to the bay.
+
+The Bay of Apia is crescent-shaped, having the point of Mulinuu for the
+western, and the point of Matatu for the eastern, tip of the horn.
+Although the coral reef stretches from tip to tip, there is, in the very
+middle, a natural gap in the submarine coral wall, deep enough and broad
+enough to give passage even to a man-of-war.
+
+We cast anchor at daylight, and as I looked over the side of the steamer
+a sense of familiarity pervaded the landscape, possibly to be accounted
+for by the fact that the slender, feathery palms had ceased to be
+distinctive features; not that palms were lacking, but that their long,
+straight stems were crowded out by a dense growth of other trees. In one
+of his letters Stevenson himself comments on this, and implies that this
+"home likeness" formed one of the attractions which drew him to Upolu.
+
+The little town of Apia nestles at the foot of a peaked and forest-clad
+mountain; indeed the whole of the shore, which is everywhere green and
+level, is overshadowed by inland mountain tops.
+
+At last I had attained the goal of my pilgrimage; at last I was within
+hail of that lonely plateau, where all that was mortal of Robert Louis
+Stevenson was laid to rest some eight years ago.
+
+I looked shoreward with eyes full of reverence and wonder. This island
+with its wooded peak was the "surfy palm-built bubble" of Gosse's
+wonderful poem. The rhythm of the words made music in my brain.
+
+  "Now the skies are pure above you, Tusitala,
+  Feathered trees bow down before you,
+  Perfumed winds from shining waters
+  Stir the sanguine-leaved hibiscus,
+  That your kingdom's dusk-eyed daughters
+  Weave about their shining tresses,
+  Dew-fed guavas drop their viscous
+  Honey at the sun's caresses,
+  Where eternal summer blesses
+  Your ethereal musky highlands."
+  "You are circled, as by magic,
+  In a surfy palm-built bubble, Tusitala.
+  Fate hath chosen, but the choice is
+  Half delectable, half tragic,
+  For we hear you speak like Moses,
+  And we greet you back enchanted,
+  But reply's no sooner granted
+  Than the rifted cloud-land closes."
+
+This poem, which forms the dedication to _Russet and Silver_, was received
+by Stevenson only a few days before his death. The fact that he had barely
+read it ere the "rifted cloud-land" did indeed close upon him imparts an
+almost prophetic significance to the last two lines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+  "Alas! for Tusitala he sleeps in the forest."
+                                    _Native Lament._
+
+
+Vailima is only about three miles from Apia, but the road ascends the
+whole way, and in this land "where it is always afternoon" one does not
+care for much exertion; so a carriage was engaged to drive us thither, and
+we had John Chinaman for coachman.
+
+That morning the captain and a fellow-passenger had urged us not to
+attempt the ascent of Mount Veea. "Go and see the house by all means, but
+the grave is impossible for ladies." "Only last trip," said the captain,
+"two of our passengers, both comparatively young men, got lost in the bush
+on Mount Veea, never found the grave at all, and returned to the
+_Manipouri_ dead beat, after keeping me waiting four hours. But I give you
+due warning, ladies, I shall not wait for you, don't think it for a
+moment. I shall just go off and leave you here." I can recall now the
+twinkle in his brown eyes as the captain spoke, a twinkle that gave the
+lie to his words. Nevertheless, in spite of all warnings, we, the only
+three ladies on board, adhered to our intention of making the ascent,
+though we promised to take a native guide to show us the way.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART
+
+_To face page 27_]]
+
+
+We drove up a long, winding hill, in a very dilapidated wagonette. I sat
+by the driver, and felt sorry for our pair of lean and scraggy horses as
+they toiled painfully upwards. The heat was stifling, and the still, tense
+air vibrated with every sound, like a tightly drawn string. At last we
+reached the Road of the Loving Heart. This road exists as a touching
+memorial to the high regard in which Tusitala--the story teller--was held
+by the natives. And here it may be well to add that the name of Tusitala
+was given to Stevenson, not because the Samoans knew or loved his books,
+but because it is their custom to define the individual either by his or
+her profession, by some trait or characteristic, or even by an article of
+attire. Hence when the chiefs inquired concerning this new arrival, "What
+does he do? How does he live?" they were told "He writes books; he tells
+stories"; and from that day onward he was "Tusitala, the Story Teller,"
+just as Mrs. Strong was (I believe) known as "The Flower-Giver" (I forget
+the native equivalent), because she was in the habit of giving flowers to
+her visitors.
+
+This information came from Captain Crawshaw, who was himself a personal
+friend of the late novelist, and showed me, by the way, quite a number of
+letters he had received from Stevenson himself. One of them interested me
+particularly, since in it Stevenson begged the captain to try and discover
+the whereabouts of a friend of his who had got into trouble. "Save him
+from his worst enemy--himself. Bring him to me. Spare no expense in the
+matter. I will be answerable." Such was the substance of this letter as
+far as I can recall it, and it ended in the following characteristic
+fashion:--"Signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of my Maker, and
+the ink-pot."
+
+  "ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON."
+
+But I am wandering into bye-ways, and I must hasten to return to Ala Loto
+Alofa (which is the Samoan equivalent for the name of the road referred
+to).[4] Without going into the political details the facts are, briefly,
+that Stevenson had been very good to the six imprisoned chiefs of
+Mataafa's following, and when their term of imprisonment expired, these
+men, out of gratitude, cut a road through the bush to Vailima.
+
+
+[Illustration: KAVA FEAST GIVEN TO THE CHIEFS ON COMPLETION OF THE ROAD OF
+THE LOVING HEART
+
+_To face page 29_]]
+
+
+This work was a labour of love, the men who engaged in it were mostly of a
+high class, and they would neither take wages nor any sort of payment in
+kind. How this pleased Stevenson may be gathered from the following:--"Now
+whether or not this impulse will last them through the road does not
+matter to me one hair. It is the fact that they have attempted it, that
+they have volunteered, and are now trying to execute, a thing that was
+never before heard of in Samoa. Think of it! It is road making, the most
+fruitful cause, after taxes, of all rebellion in Samoa, a thing to which
+they could not be wiled with money, nor driven by punishment. It does give
+me a sense of having done something in Samoa after all."[5]
+
+Stevenson had purposed putting up a notice of the new road, with its name
+in large letters with a few words of thanks for the chiefs, and a board
+was prepared for the purpose, painted and spaced for the lettering, when
+the chiefs arrived with their own inscription carefully written out. They
+begged so earnestly to have this printed instead that their wish was
+gratified. I was privileged to read the notice at the corner of the wide
+road leading to the gates of Vailima.[6] The inscription is in Samoan,
+but translated into English runs as follows: "The Road of the Loving
+Heart" (Ala Loto Alofa), "Remembering the great care of his Highness
+Tusitala, and his loving care when we were in prison and sore distressed,
+we have prepared him an enduring present, this road which we have dug to
+last for ever. It shall never be muddy, it shall endure, this road that we
+have dug."
+
+On arrival at the finger-post our Chinaman was fain to be rid of us, so he
+announced, with a grin on his yellow face, "Horsee too muchee tired,
+missie walk now, missie catchee Vailima chop-chop." We had, however, been
+forewarned what to expect by the captain, so I merely remarked, "Savey,
+John no catchee Vailima, no catchee pay." And John drove on!
+
+The Road of the Loving Heart, if very steep, has a fairly level surface.
+On either side are palms, bread fruit trees and bananas. Vailima
+(literally, "Five Rivers") is approached by a short drive, through a gate,
+into a lovely garden. Mrs. Strong tells me that the present owner has
+painted on that gate the words--"Villa Vailima." I am happy to say,
+however, that neither of us observed this atrocity.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 31_]]
+
+
+The house itself is well designed and has a double verandah; it is built
+of wood throughout, and stands on very high ground. On the left hand, as
+we faced the house, was the smaller villa once occupied by Mrs. Strong. On
+the right, towering up into the blue dome above, was Mount Veea, and on
+the wooded height (far beyond ken)--THE GRAVE.
+
+Not a soul was visible, the place was bathed in sunshine and "steeped in
+silentness," not even a dog barked at our approach. The crotons,
+dracaenas, and other plants of brilliant foliage made patches of vivid
+colour on the well-kept lawns, and everywhere was the scent of orange
+blossom, gardenia, and frangipani.
+
+Under the shadow of the broad verandah the air was cool and pleasant, and
+we three lingered there awhile, as on the threshold of a temple. Before us
+was the really magnificent hall, some sixty feet long by forty wide, the
+door standing open, as in the days of Tusitala, but the dark panelling
+within was a thing of the past, and the walls were now painted a soft cool
+green.
+
+All his furniture was gone--we were prepared for that--but the window was
+there, the window below which he lay on the low settle and breathed his
+last. As I stood there the whole scene flashed across my mental vision,
+with its awful, and perhaps merciful, unexpectedness.
+
+He had recorded, often enough, his desire for such an end. "I wish to die
+in my boots, no more Land of Counterpane for me! If only I could secure a
+violent end, what a fine success! To be drowned, to be shot, to be thrown
+from a horse, aye, to be hanged, rather than pass again through that slow
+dissolution."
+
+No less has he left on record his attitude towards impending death. "By
+all means begin your folio, even if the doctor does not give you a year,
+even if he hesitates about a month, make one brave push and see what can
+be accomplished in a week. It is not only in finished undertakings that we
+ought to honour useful labour. A spirit goes out of the man who means
+execution which outlives the most untimely end."
+
+The hall of Vailima is (as Mr. Balfour tells us) quite the feature of the
+house. I have before referred to its size, it covers the whole area of the
+building. Facing us, as we entered, was the broad polished wooden
+staircase leading to the upper storey. We passed through the hall and out
+of a door on the other side of it; somewhere in the back premises we
+unearthed a Samoan woman, attired in very scanty raiment, busily engaged
+in peeling potatoes. To her we addressed ourselves, first in English and
+then in German, but it was all to no purpose. Next we resorted to
+signs. Pointing to the mountain top, I said, "Tusitala." The word acted as
+a talisman, the brown face wreathed itself in smiles, the dark eyes
+kindled into comprehension. Motioning to us to remain where we were, she
+disappeared, and soon returned with a small brown girl, whose only garment
+was a ragged blue pinafore sewn up at the back.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HALL OF VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 32_]]
+
+
+The little maiden (she might have been ten or eleven years of age) ran up
+to us quite gleefully, intimated by smiles and gestures that she was
+prepared to act as guide, and at once possessed herself of our heavy
+basket of fruit. We followed her through a little wicket gate which led
+into a lovely grove with oranges on one side and bananas on the other, the
+leaves of the latter being larger and more glossy than any I have seen
+before or since. The play of light and shadow here was something to dream
+of, and often we stood still too enraptured to pursue our way. Soon we
+crossed a little mountain stream, clear as crystal, with but a single
+plank for bridge, and lingered awhile to admire the cream-breasted
+kingfishers and the numerous little[7] crayfish disporting themselves in
+and above the water. In time we left the cultivated land behind and
+followed a slender path into the bush, where under foot was a dense
+growth of sensitive plant with delicately cut foliage and little fluffy
+pink ball-like blossoms. Our footsteps were marked by the quivering and
+shrinking of the shy, tremulous leaves, but as I looked back they once
+more stood bravely erect. This was the plant that baffled all poor
+Stevenson's efforts at eradication, living, thriving, ever renewing itself
+in spite of him.
+
+"A fool," says he, "brought it to this island in a pot, and used to
+lecture and sentimentalize over the tender thing. The tender thing has now
+taken charge of this island, and men fight it, with torn hands, for bread
+and life. A singular insidious thing, shrinking and biting like a weasel,
+clutching by its roots as a limpet clutches to a rock."[8]
+
+The trees here were simply magnificent, the fern life too was everywhere
+abundant, exquisite ferns, such as we grow in our hot-houses at home.
+Trees, ferns, creepers, flowers were tangled together in a vast net-work
+of luxuriant vegetation, each individual plant fighting for its very
+existence, contending for its due share of light, and air, and space. Here
+it was that Stevenson conceived his poem of "The Woodman"; every word of
+it came home to me with the inevitableness of absolute truth as we fought
+our way upward and onward.
+
+  "I saw the wood for what it was,
+  The lost and the victorious cause,
+  The deadly battle pitched in line,
+  Saw silent weapons cross and shine,
+  Silent defeat, silent assault,
+  A battle and a burial vault."
+
+Stevenson's attitude towards nature was a very remarkable one. Like
+Wordsworth, he endued her with a real, living personality, but unlike
+Wordsworth, he never seems to enter into a direct communion with her. She
+does not soothe him into "a wise passiveness," she rather inspires him
+with a strange, fierce energy. Take this passage, selected almost at
+random from one of his published letters to Sidney Colvin: "I wonder if
+any one ever had the same attitude to nature as I hold and have held for
+so long. This business (of weeding) fascinates me like a tune or a
+passion, yet all the while I thrill with a strong distaste. The horror of
+the thing, objective and subjective, is always present in my mind, the
+horror of creeping things, a superstitious horror of the void and the
+powers about me, the horror of my own devastation and continual murders.
+The life of the plants comes through my finger tips, their struggles go to
+my heart like supplications, I feel myself blood boltered--then I look
+back on my cleared grass, and count myself an ally in a fair quarrel, and
+make stout my heart."
+
+The living individual personality of nature is here as clearly recognised
+as Wordsworth himself recognised it, but the standpoint of regard is
+wholly different. Stevenson was aware of the spirit that clothed itself
+with the visible, but he was no dreamy lover enamoured of that spirit. He
+was rather (as he so often says) the ally in a fair quarrel, only desirous
+of bending Nature to his will, of pitting his strength against hers.
+
+But I am digressing, and the mountain top and the grave are before me, and
+I am in the forest on my way thither. Now and again a tiny bright-coloured
+bird would flash across the path, now and again a huge trail of giant
+convolvulus, blue as the sky, would bar our progress. Over an hour had
+elapsed before we gained the summit, and the latter half of the ascent was
+by far the most difficult.
+
+Small wonder that sixty natives were required to get the coffin up, and
+even so the question will always remain, How did they accomplish the feat?
+One may talk of the Road of the Loving Heart, but this was a veritable
+Via Dolorosa, a road of Sorrow and of Pity. The path zigzagged through
+the forest until it ended in a slender, fern-grown, almost imperceptible
+bush-track. More than once it led over the face of the solid rock, but
+branches of creepers, by which it was easy to swing oneself up, were
+abundant, though still the top appeared to recede, and to become more and
+more unattainable.
+
+The mosquitos made the lives of my two companions a burden; on all sides
+of us we heard their sinister aereal trumpeting, the heat was
+insupportable--stifling, the very air seemed stagnant and dead, but, quite
+unawares, we were gradually nearing our goal. Suddenly our little
+brown-skinned guide, who was travelling ever so far ahead, in spite of the
+burden of our heavy basket of fruit, flung herself down on a small plateau
+just above us, and we, toiling painfully after, knew we had attained.
+
+A minute later and we stood in reverent silence beside a massive
+sarcophagus, constructed of concrete and surrounded by a broad slab. Not
+an ideal structure by any manner of means, not even beautiful, and yet in
+its massive ruggedness it somehow suited the man and the place. The broad
+slab was strewn with faded wreaths and flowers, and on one side of the
+sarcophagus were inscribed Stevenson's name, with the date of his birth
+and death, also these eight lines, familiar to all who have read his
+poems:
+
+  "Under the wide and starry sky,
+  Dig the grave and let me lie,
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+  And I lay me down with a will.
+  This be the verse you grave for me,
+  Here he lies where he longed to be,
+  Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
+  And the hunter home from the hill."
+
+On the other side was an inscription in Samoan, which translated is
+"Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy
+people shall be my people and thy God my God; where thou diest I will die,
+and there will I be buried." On either side of this text was graven a
+thistle and a hibiscus flower.
+
+The chiefs have tabooed the use of firearms, or other weapons, on Mount
+Veea, in order that the birds may live there undisturbed and unafraid, and
+build their nests in the trees around Tusitala's grave.
+
+
+[Illustration: VIEW OF VAILIMA FROM STEVENSON'S GRAVE
+
+_To face page 39_]]
+
+
+We remained on the plateau for over an hour resting our weary limbs, and
+eating our lunch of fruit; and during that time we sat on the broad
+sun-warmed slab. A tiny lizard, with a golden head, a green body, and a
+blue tail, flickered to and fro. Overhead a huge flying fox, with
+outspread "batty wings" sailed majestically. We seemed alone in the world,
+we four human beings, and as we gazed about us we saw everywhere, far
+beneath us, the beautiful "sapphire-spangled marriage-ring of the land,"
+and down from us to the blueness, and beyond us, to an infinitude of
+distance, billow upon billow of wooded heights. Sitting there, on that
+green and level plateau on the summit of the mountain, my thoughts turned
+involuntarily to the last lofty resting-place of Browning's "Grammarian."
+
+  "Well, here's the platform, here's the proper place!
+      Hail to your purlieus,
+  All ye high flyers of the feathered race,
+      Swallows and curlews!"
+  "Here, here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form,
+      Lightnings are loosened,
+  Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm,
+      Peace let the dew send!"
+
+The wind sighed softly in the branches of the _Tavau_ trees, from out the
+green recesses of the _Toi_ came the plaintive coo of the wood-pigeon. In
+and out of the branches of the magnificent _Fau_ tree, which overhangs the
+grave, a kingfisher, sea-blue, iridescent, flitted to and fro, whilst a
+scarlet hibiscus, in full flower, showed up royally against the gray
+lichened cement. All around was light and life and colour, and I said to
+myself, "He is made one with nature"; he is now, body and soul and spirit,
+commingled with the loveliness around. He who longed in life to scale the
+height, he who attained his wish only in death, has become in himself a
+parable of fulfilment. No need now for that heart-sick cry:--
+
+  "Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+  Say, could that lad be I."
+
+No need now for the despairing finality of:--
+
+  "I have trod the upward and the downward slopes,
+  I have endured and done in the days of yore,
+  I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope,
+  And I have lived, and loved, and closed the door."
+
+Death has set his seal of peace on the unequal conflict of mind and
+matter; the All-Mother has gathered him to herself.
+
+In years to come, when his grave is perchance forgotten, a rugged ruin,
+home of the lizard and the bat, Tusitala--the story teller--"the man with
+a heart of gold" (as I so often heard him designated in the Islands) will
+live, when it may be his tales have ceased to interest, in the tender
+remembrance of those whose lives he beautified, and whose hearts he warmed
+into gratitude.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE STAIRCASE, VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 41_]]
+
+
+So we left him, "still loftier than the world suspects, living and dying,"
+and once more, following the footsteps of our guide, we took up that ferny
+moss-grown track. It was scarcely less easy to scramble down the steep
+descent than it had been to toil upwards. But "time and the hour run
+through the roughest day," and we eventually arrived at the bottom, torn
+and scratched and not a little weary, but well content, only somewhat
+regretful that the visit to the grave was over and not still to come,
+comforting each other with the recollection that the house yet remained to
+be explored.
+
+Vailima is not much changed since the days when Robert Louis Stevenson
+lived there. Where the walls had been, in the late native war, riddled
+with shot, they had been renewed, but so exactly on the old lines that the
+change was scarcely perceptible. Although the house has been added to, and
+in my estimation considerably improved thereby, yet the old part remains
+intact.
+
+Herr Conrade, the manager for Herr Kunz, the present owner, was kind
+enough to show us everything, but naturally Stevenson's suite of rooms
+were the only ones that possessed any special interest. First his bedroom,
+then his library, and lastly his Temple of Peace, the innermost shrine
+where he wrote, and which, opening as it did on to the upper verandah,
+commanded a magnificent view of sea and mountain. From the verandah could
+be seen the gleam of the sunlight on the breaking surf around the far
+distant bay. On the left, fronting seaward, were the heights where he was
+laid to rest.
+
+Between two of the upper rooms (the bedroom and the library), there used
+to be a square hole, just large enough for a man to crawl through on hands
+and knees.[9] This was formerly the only entrance, but the present owner
+has had a door put up on which the outline of the hole is still indicated.
+
+With the exception of these rooms, Vailima might have belonged to any
+other European of wealth and taste.
+
+The question has been raised, Was Stevenson contented in Samoa? Did those
+three years bring him pleasure? May we not answer, Yes! and not only
+pleasure but profit. For the profit, note the books written during this
+period, _The Master of Ballantrae_, and the unfinished _Weir of
+Hermiston_!
+
+
+[Illustration: VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 42_]]
+
+
+For the pleasure he shall speak for himself, and mark the subtle
+distinction he draws between happiness and pleasure. "I was only happy
+once--that was at Hyères, it came to an end from a variety of reasons,
+decline of health, change of place, increase of money, age with his
+stealing steps; since then, as before then, I know not what it means. But
+I know pleasure still, pleasure with a thousand faces and none perfect, a
+thousand tongues all broken, a thousand hands and all of them with
+scratching nails. High among these I place this delight of weeding out
+here, alone by the garrulous water, under the silence of the high wood,
+broken by incongruous sounds of birds."
+
+"Intense in all he did, Tusitala could do nothing by halves," said a man
+who knew him well. "Whether it was at clearing land or writing books he
+always worked at the top of his power, and enjoying as he did the life of
+the gay house party in the evening, he would rise at daylight to make up
+his loss of time." His was the old, old story of the sword that wore out
+the scabbard--flesh and spirit at issue, and the flesh so frail, so
+unequal to the conflict. There was an Austrian Count in Upolu whom the
+captain took us one day to see, and who, to use the colonial word,
+"batched" in a little bungalow in the midst of a huge coconut plantation.
+
+The bungalow contained but one room--the bedroom, and the broad encircling
+verandah served for sitting room. Here we sat and talked about Tusitala,
+and drank to his memory. The conversation turned on Vailima, and our host
+took us within and showed us the only two adornments that his room
+possessed. Over his camp bed hung a framed photograph bearing the
+inscription "My friend Tusitala," and fronting the bed was another of the
+house and Mount Veea.
+
+"So," he said, "I keep him there, for he was my saviour, and I wish 'good
+night' and 'good morning,' every day, both to himself and to his old
+home." The count then told us that when he was stopping at Vailima he used
+to have his bath daily on the verandah below his room. One lovely morning
+he got up very early, got into the bath, and splashed and sang, feeling
+very well and very happy, and at last beginning to sing very loudly, he
+forgot Mr. Stevenson altogether. All at once there was Stevenson himself,
+his hair all ruffled up, his eyes full of anger. "Man," he said, "you and
+your infernal row have cost me more than two hundred pounds in ideas," and
+with that he was gone, but he did not address the count again the whole of
+that day. Next morning he had forgotten the count's offence and was just
+as friendly as ever, but--the noise was never repeated! Another of the
+count's stories amused me much. "An English lord came all the way to Samoa
+in his yacht to see Mr. Stevenson, and found him in his cool Kimino
+sitting with the ladies and drinking tea on his verandah; the whole party
+had their feet bare. The English lord thought that he must have called at
+the wrong time, and offered to go away, but Mr. Stevenson called out to
+him, and brought him back, and made him stay to dinner. They all went away
+to dress, and the guest was left sitting alone in the verandah. Soon they
+came back, Mr. Osborne and Mr. Stevenson wearing the form of dress most
+usual in that hot climate, a white mess jacket, and white trousers, but
+their feet were still bare. The guest put up his eyeglass and stared for a
+bit, then he looked down upon his own beautifully shod feet and sighed.
+They all talked and laughed until the ladies came in, the ladies in silk
+dresses, befrilled with lace, but still with bare feet, and the guest took
+a covert look through his eyeglass and gasped, but when he noticed that
+there were gold bangles on Mrs. Strong's ankles and rings upon her toes,
+he could bear no more and dropped his eyeglass on the ground of the
+verandah breaking it all to bits." Such was my informant's story, which I
+give for what it is worth.
+
+
+[Illustration: NATIVE FEAST AT VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 44_]]
+
+
+On our way back to the steamer we visited the lovely waterfall referred to
+in _Vailima Letters_, also the Girls' School for the daughters of Native
+Chiefs. The latter affords most interesting testimony to the value of
+mission work. The principal of the school--a German lady--told us that
+both Stevenson and his mother took the deepest interest in this school,
+and subscribed liberally towards its support.
+
+We had, I regret to say, very little time in Apia, and no time for
+Papasea, or The Sliding Rock, which lies some miles inland. The natives
+love to shoot this fall, and many of the white folk of both sexes follow
+their example.
+
+Next morning we were off again, steaming for the other side of the island,
+where we stayed two days shipping copra. Here I met many of Stevenson's
+friends, and can recall a chat I had with the photographer to whom I am
+indebted for several of the photographs in this book. He was a thin spare
+man, about six-and-twenty years of age, and not so very unlike the
+pictures of Stevenson himself.
+
+"I had but recently come to Samoa," he said, "and was standing one day in
+my shop when Mr. Stevenson came in and spoke. "Mon," he said, "I tak ye to
+be a Scotsman like mysel."
+
+
+[Illustration: ONE OF THE FIVE RIVERS FROM WHICH VAILIMA TAKES ITS NAME
+
+_To face page 46_]]
+
+
+"I would I could have claimed a kinship," deplored the photographer, "but
+alas! I am English to the back-bone, with never a drop of Scotch blood in
+my veins, and I told him this, regretting the absence of the blood tie.
+
+"I could have sworn your back was the back of a Scotchman," was his
+comment, "but," and he held out his hand, "you look sick, and there is a
+fellowship in sickness not to be denied." I said I was not strong, and had
+come to the Island on account of my health. "Well then," replied Mr.
+Stevenson, "it shall be my business to help you to get well; come to
+Vailima whenever you like, and if I am out, ask for refreshment, and wait
+until I come in, you will always find a welcome there."
+
+At this point my informant turned away, and there was a break in his voice
+as he exclaimed, "Ah, the years go on, and I don't miss him less, but
+more; next to my mother he was the best friend I ever had: a man with a
+heart of gold; his house was a second home to me."
+
+"You like his books, of course."
+
+"Yes!" (this very dubiously), "I like them, but he was worth all his books
+put together. People who don't know him, like him for his books. I like
+him for himself, and I often wish I liked his books better. It strikes me
+that we in the Colonies don't think so much of them as you do in England,
+perhaps we are not educated up to his style." And this is the class of
+comment I heard over and over again in the Colonies, from men who liked
+the man, but had no especial liking for his books. Is it that Robert Louis
+Stevenson appeals first and foremost to a cultured audience? Surely not.
+Putting the essays out of court, his books are one and all tales of
+adventure, stories of romance. The interest may be heightened by style--by
+the use of words that fit the subject, as a tailor-made gown fits its
+wearer--but the subject is never sacrificed to the style. It seems to me
+that one of my friends on the _Manipouri_ (himself a great reader and no
+mean critic) came very near solving the problem when he said, "Frankly,
+much as I like the man, I don't care one straw about his writings. I've
+got on board this boat _The Master of Ballantrae_, _The Black Arrow_,
+_Kidnapped_, and _The Ebb Tide_. They all read like so many boys' books,
+and when I became a man I put away childish things. I've plenty of
+adventure and excitement in my life, and I want a book that tells me about
+the home life in the old country, or else an historical novel. Give me
+Thomas Hardy, or Mrs. Humphry Ward, or Marion Crawford, or Antony Hope.
+My bad taste, I daresay, but it is so, and I am not alone in my verdict,
+although I reckon the majority of the folk, this side of the world, would
+prefer Marie Corelli or Mrs. L. T. Meade."
+
+
+[Illustration: ANOTHER OF THE FIVE RIVERS
+
+_To face page 48_]]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I cannot leave Samoa without saying a few words about the natives, in whom
+Tusitala took so deep an interest.
+
+As I write there rises before my mental vision a crowd of brown-skinned
+men, women, and children, their bodies glistening with coconut oil, and
+looking as sleek as a shoal of porpoises. Supple of limb, handsome of
+feature, the men are mostly possessed of reddish or yellow-tinted hair,
+which stands straight out from their heads in a stiff mop. The colour is
+due to the rubbing in of a much prized description of red clay, and the
+stiffness to their constant use of coral lime, for purposes of
+cleanliness.
+
+All the men wear the kilt of the South Seas, the _sulu_, _ridi_, or
+_lava-lava_, and as often as not a tunic besides. Nearly all the women are
+clothed in "pinafore" dresses, infinitely graceful and becoming. Men and
+women alike adorn themselves with flowers, wreaths of flowers in their
+hair, flowers interwoven in their _sulu's_, garlands of flowers around
+the neck, in addition to countless strings of shells and beads.
+
+That they loved Tusitala with a deep and lasting affection is undoubted,
+and if proof were needed this touching little story may be taken as but
+one of many evidences. Sosimo, one of his servants, went out of his way to
+do Tusitala an act of personal kindness. In expressing his gratitude
+Stevenson said, "Oh! Sosimo, great is the service." "Nay, Tusitala,"
+replied the Samoan, "greater is the love." The following is the Native
+Lament composed by one of the Chiefs at the time of Stevenson's death. The
+translation is by Mr. Lloyd Osborne, Stevenson's step-son and able
+collaborator. I was allowed to copy the poems from the little pamphlet
+kindly lent me by the Captain.[10]
+
+
+[Illustration: DANCE OF SAMOAN NATIVES
+
+_To face page 50_]]
+
+
+NATIVE LAMENT FOR TUSITALA.
+
+  Listen oh! this world as I tell of the disaster,
+  That befell in the late afternoon,
+  That broke like a wave of the sea,
+  Suddenly and swiftly blinding our eyes.
+  Alas! for Lois who speaks, tears in his voice,
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala who rests in the forest.
+
+  Aimlessly we wait and wonder, Will he come again?
+  Lament, oh Vailima, waiting and ever waiting;
+  Let us search and inquire of the Captains of Ships,
+  "Be not angry, but has not Tusitala come?"
+  Tuila, sorrowing one, come hither,
+  Prepare me a letter, I will carry it.
+
+  Let her Majesty, Queen Victoria, be told,
+  That Tusitala, the loving one, has been taken home.
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala, who rests in the forest.
+
+  Alas! my heart weeps with anxious pity,
+  As I think of the days before us,
+  Of the white men gathering for the Christmas assembly;
+  Alas! for Alola,[11] left in her loneliness,
+  And the men of Vailima, who weep together,
+  Their leader being taken;
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala, who sleeps in the forest.
+
+  Alas! oh, my heart, it weeps unceasingly,
+  When I think of his illness,
+  Coming upon him with so fatal a swiftness,
+  Would that it had waited a word or a glance from him,
+  Or some token from us of our love.
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala who sleeps in the forest.
+
+  Grieve oh, my heart! I cannot bear to look on,
+  At the chiefs who are assembling.
+  Alas! Tusitala, thou art not here;
+  I look hither and thither in vain for thee,
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala, he sleeps in the forest.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: FIJI
+
+_To face page 53_]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE AFTERMATH
+
+
+The object of my journey was attained. Samoa, with its mist-swept
+mountains, its sun-lit waterfalls, its gleaming "etherial musky
+highlands," lay behind me, dim as a dream, a pictured memory of the past;
+and yet I had not done with the Islands. At two, if not three, of the
+Fijian group, we were to ship copra and sugar; and report had said that
+the Fiji Islands were more lovely than the Samoan. So I add a valedictory
+chapter--an epilogue in fact--contenting myself with the very briefest of
+descriptions, trusting that my illustrations will supply the missing
+details.
+
+We were bound for Levuka, and we passed en route the small island of
+Apolima, for which Stevenson conceived so great an admiration, although I
+fancy he never landed there, but only saw it, as I did, from the deck of a
+steamer. Basking in the golden radiance of the evening light, Apolima
+looked like the long-lost Island of Avilion,
+
+  "Where falls nor rain, nor hail, nor any snow,
+  Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies
+  Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns,
+  And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea."
+
+In the centre of the island is an extinct crater, and this crater is all
+one luxuriant tangle of dense bush. Here and there among the trees peeped
+out the brown huts of native Chiefs, for Apolima is a sacred island, and
+only the high Chiefs are privileged to dwell there. Next day we sighted
+Levuka, which looked more like a mountain range than an island.
+
+The coral barrier extends for a mile and a half beyond the shore of
+Levuka, the reef showing occasional openings, and within one of these
+openings was the harbour.
+
+These openings are like so many gates into fields of calm water, and fatal
+indeed would be any attempt to force a passage, for on the treacherous
+reef itself there is always to be seen the line of churned-up foam, and
+always to be heard, for miles away, the thunder of the surf. Here was the
+piteous spectacle of many a wreck, the bare ribs of death showing above
+the merciless coral.
+
+At Apia the harbour lights showed through the gaunt skeleton of the
+_Adler_, and just outside the roadstead of Levuka my attention was drawn
+to all that was left of an East Indiaman.
+
+If the coral could but speak what tales might it not tell of poor,
+drenched, fordone humanity, clutching with bleeding hands at what was so
+cruel and so inexorable--now sucked back by the indrawn breath of the
+waves, and now flung remorselessly forward on to the beautiful, bared
+teeth of the reef, until Death, more merciful than Life, put an end to
+their sufferings.
+
+As we passed the reef I noticed that the vivid blue _within_ the natural
+harbour was separated from the "foamless, long-heaving, violet ocean"
+_without_, by a submarine rainbow.
+
+Every colour was here represented and every gradation of colour. It looked
+as if the sun were shining below the water through the medium of some
+hidden prism.
+
+"Is it always beautiful like this?" I asked one of my friends on board who
+had spent many years in these parts, and who with eyes intently gazing
+shoreward, stood beside me on the upper deck.
+
+"Always," was the prompt reply, "at least, I have never seen it otherwise.
+Looks like a necklace of opals, does it not?"
+
+"What causes the colour?"
+
+"I have been waiting for that question, and it's a difficult one to
+answer. I should say it was due to the difference of depth at which the
+patches of coral, seaweed, and white sand are to be found, and the effect
+of the sunshine on them through the clear, shallow, greenish water that
+covers the irregular surface of the reef. The shades of colour vary with
+the ebb and flow of the tide. I've seen it through a golden haze, and I've
+seen it through a violet haze, but always with these prismatic colours; it
+is at its very best at noontide. If you look over the side of the steamer
+you will see how the colours lie, not on the surface, but below the
+water--the deeper you can see, the more varied and intense the colour."
+
+On landing at Levuka it needed no one to tell us that desolation in the
+form of a hurricane had recently swept over the island. The ruined church
+confronted us, with ruined houses, and toppled over palms, the entire
+beach was strewn with broken shells, rainbow-coloured fragments of
+departed loveliness. We landed and took a nearer survey of the disaster.
+At the little noisy wharf crowds of natives pressed goods on us for sale,
+among them being lovely baskets of coral, conch shells, _sulu's_ and
+_tapa_. The Roman Catholic church had escaped, as by a miracle, for all
+around it were fallen palms. We entered and admired the inlaid (native)
+wood-work, and the beautiful pink shell, on a carved wooden stand, that
+served as a font.
+
+
+[Illustration: FIJIAN BOAT
+
+_To face page 56_]]
+
+
+We left Levuka in the evening and reached Suva early next morning. I was
+awakened by the shrill trumpeting of conch shells, and hurrying on deck I
+saw alongside of us a boat full of natives, several of whom held conch
+shells to their mouths, and made a truly ear-piercing sound. I attempted
+to buy the largest of these shells, but its native owner refused to sell
+it.
+
+In some respects Suva was the most picturesque island that we visited. The
+outlines were more rugged and varied than those of Samoa, and the growth
+of bush was certainly more luxuriant. One curiously rounded mountain peak
+went by the name of The Devil's Thumb. We landed at seven o'clock, in the
+cool of the morning, and the delicious fragrance of the air left an
+abiding impression. After some discussion as to the best manner of
+spending our last day ashore, we decided to hire a little steam launch and
+go up the River Rewa as far as the sugar factory and plantation. This we
+did, and saw amongst other novelties the scarlet and black land crabs that
+live in holes along the mud banks on either side, as well as the oysters
+clinging to the branching roots of the mangroves.
+
+The sugar plantation was very interesting, as we here saw the natives at
+work in the cane-fields, but the factory was hot, sticky, and heavy with
+the nauseating smell of brown sugar. We returned at seven o'clock, and
+after dinner made a tour of inspection in the town.
+
+Suva, being the capital of the Fiji Islands, is quite an imposing little
+place. There are no turf roads here but streets with shops and pavements,
+all well lighted, and gay with colour. We bought many curiosities and
+returned to the steamer laden with our treasures.
+
+Next morning we left for Sydney, and although we touched at several little
+atolls en route, we only landed at two of them, and then only for about an
+hour.
+
+So ended my tour. I set out on my pilgrimage with but one end in view,
+namely, THE GRAVE. I returned with "rich eyes and poor hands." I had
+attained, but my attainment was shadowed by regret, for I had left my
+heart behind me, "my soul" had gone "down with these moorings, whence no
+windlass might extract nor any diver fish it up."
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] I have described this island more particularly because it was the
+first I visited, and has ever since remained "a memory apart, virginal."
+But looking back I realise that Nukualofa is by no means a beautiful type
+of coral island, since in common with all the Tongan group it is
+absolutely flat, and wholly lacks that diversity of outline (due to
+volcanic agency) which is the leading characteristic of the Samoan and
+Fijian groups.
+
+[2] His Majesty King George of Tonga being in residence, the villa palace
+was inaccessible to visitors.
+
+[3] More correctly mammy apples--the fruit of the "paw-paw" tree.
+
+[4] If the reader wishes to understand the political history of Samoa let
+him read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest Stevenson's "_Footnote to
+History_."
+
+[5] September, 1894, _Vailima Letters_.
+
+[6] I am told this finger-post is now a thing of the past.
+
+[7] Since reading Mr. Balfour's _Life of Stevenson_, I am led to infer
+these last were a sort of fresh-water prawns.
+
+[8] _Vailima Letters_, November, 1890.
+
+[9] I have since I wrote this been informed by a member of the family that
+although the hole existed it was not between the library and the bedroom.
+
+[10] Written at the time of his death for distribution among his personal
+friends, etc.
+
+[11] Alola--literally, the "loved one."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs.
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Stevenson's Shrine
+       The Record of a Pilgrimage
+
+Author: Laura Stubbs
+
+Release Date: July 17, 2011 [EBook #36763]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVENSON'S SHRINE ***
+
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+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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+
+
+
+
+<h1>STEVENSON&#8217;S SHRINE</h1>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p><a name="front" id="front"></a>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>The Grave.</i></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="giant">STEVENSON&#8217;S<br />SHRINE</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE RECORD OF A PILGRIMAGE</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="large">By LAURA STUBBS</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/deco.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">BOSTON<br />
+L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY<br />
+INCORPORATED<br />
+1903</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">Chapter I.</span></a></td>
+    <td>The Voyage&mdash;Auckland to Tonga</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">Chapter II.</span></a></td>
+    <td><span class="spacer">&nbsp;</span>"<span class="spacer2">&nbsp;</span>"<span class="spacer2">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>Vavau to Samoa</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">Chapter III.</span></a></td>
+    <td><span class="spacer">&nbsp;</span>"<span class="spacer2">&nbsp;</span>"<span class="spacer2">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>Vailima and the SHRINE</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV.</span></a></td>
+    <td>The Aftermath&mdash;Fiji to Sydney</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<h2>List of Plates</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Grave</span></td><td colspan="2" align="right"><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Coral Garden</span></td><td><i>To face page</i></td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">6</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Tonga Village</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Trilithon in Tonga</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Harbour of Vavau</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Kava-Making</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Town of Apia</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Road of the Loving Heart</span>&#8221;</td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Kava Feast</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The House at Vailima</span> (<span class="smcap">Front View</span>)</td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Hall at Vailima</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">View of Vailima from the Grave</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Staircase at Vailima</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The House at Vailima</span> (<span class="smcap">End View</span>)</td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Native Feast at Vailima</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">One of the Five Rivers at Vailima</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Another of the Five Rivers</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">48</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Dance of Samoan Natives</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">View in Fiji</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Fijian Boat</span></td><td align="center">"</td>
+    <td align="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">MAP OF A PORTION OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC SHOWING SAMOA AND SOCIETY ISLANDS</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/map_tmb.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/map.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<div class="note"><p>&#8220;The first love, the first sunrise, the first South Sea Island, are
+memories apart and touch a virginity of sense.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My soul went down with these moorings whence no windlass may extract
+nor any diver fish it up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>Robert Louis Stevenson.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">I, a lover</span> of the man, personally unknown to me, save through the potency
+of his pen, journeyed across the world in order to visit his grave, and to
+get into direct touch with his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>The voyage to the Antipodes does not come within the compass of this
+little book; enough that in September, 1892, I left Auckland (New Zealand)
+in the Union Company&#8217;s Steamship Manipouri, for a cruise among the South
+Sea Islands, and that our first port of call was Nukualofa, one of the
+Tongan group.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>Here I stood on a little grass-covered wharf, and, looking down through
+the translucent water, made my first acquaintance with a coral garden. Oh!
+that wonderful water world with its wealth of sprays, flowers, and
+madrepores, amongst which the tiny rainbow-coloured fishes darted in and
+out like submarine humming-birds&mdash;wingless, but brilliant&mdash;living flecks
+of colour, flashing through a fairy region. The unreality of the scene
+took hold of me. If this were real I must be enchanted, looking downwards
+with enchanted eyes.</p>
+
+<p>As one who dreams I walked inland, following a most fascinating green turf
+path soft as velvet to the tread. There are no roads in Nukualofa, green
+turf paths serve instead; indeed the whole of the little island, with its
+long stately avenues of coconut palms, its sheltering bowers of banyan
+trees, its groups of bananas, and groves of orange and other tropical
+trees too numerous and too varied to describe, seems one beautiful and
+universal park. Every few minutes I came across a vivid patch of scarlet,
+yellow, or white hibiscus; great trailing lengths of blue convolvulus,
+many tendrilled and giant blossomed, garlanded the trees, and not
+unfrequently flung an almost impenetrable barrier across the path. These
+paths are separated from the universal park by&mdash;a fencing of barbed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>wire! But the little tram line, which terminates at the wharf, was
+bordered with turf of a moss-like softness, and even between its rails the
+grass grew thickly.<a name='fna_1' id='fna_1' href='#f_1'><small>[1]</small></a></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img01.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">A CORAL GARDEN</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The whole island was encircled by a giant fringe of coral, white and
+glistening, at one side of which was a natural opening leading to the
+little harbour. The light at sunset upon this reef was like the refraction
+of some hidden prism, shimmering opalescent, a suffusion of vague and
+unspeakably lovely hues.</p>
+
+<p>After walking for some time I suddenly came within sight of a palm-fringed
+lagoon. Upon its unruffled blue surface two native girls were paddling a
+small canoe. Their attire was slight, and their polished skins, gleaming
+with coconut oil, shone like mahogany. They stared for a moment at the new
+arrival with all the <i>na&iuml;vet&eacute;</i> of children, then with a rippling laugh
+they paddled to the bank and began to talk. As I listened to the unknown
+accents of their musical tongue I was filled with bitterness to think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
+that though so near, we were nevertheless so far apart. A smile however is
+always current coin, and before we parted many a one had been exchanged.</p>
+
+<p>In slight relief, amid the brilliant-hued orange-trees, the tall
+feathery-topped coconut palms, the dark green spreading bread-fruit trees,
+and the broad-leaved <i>pandanus</i> or screw-pines, the brown huts of the
+natives showed up at intervals. Flung down at random on the verdant
+carpet, which flourished up to their very doors, thatched with long
+screw-pine leaves and lashed together with coconut fibre, with never an
+angle between them, I have been assured, by more than one resident of
+authority, that they stand the brunt of a hurricane better than the best
+houses built by Europeans. Outside these huts, sitting or standing, or
+lounging about in indolent inaction, were native men, women, and
+children&mdash;dear little brown-skinned babies, innocent of any attire save
+their original &#8220;birthday suit,&#8221; rolled and tumbled on the grass. As I
+passed on my way the women and girls nodded and smiled, and gave me their
+musical greeting of &#8220;Mehola lelai,&#8221; and before I was out of sight called
+after me &#8220;Nofa, Nofa&#8221;&mdash;the native &#8220;Good-bye,&#8221; which means literally &#8220;Stay,
+stay.&#8221; And everywhere could be heard the tap tap of the kava stones, and
+the rhythmic beating out of the &#8220;tapa.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img02.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">TONGA VILLAGE, WITH ROUND HOUSES</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>This &#8220;Tapa&#8221; (or &#8220;Ngata&#8221;) cloth is very pretty. It is made from the
+bleached and beaten out bark of a tree, and is decorated with rude designs
+which the natives trace with a piece of charred stick, and which represent
+squares, circles, angles, stars, even at times the outline of the flying
+fox. The colouring matter used to complete the patterns is of a black or
+brown tint, and is made from a decoction of bark; a piece of cloth, or
+hibiscus fibre is employed as a brush, and when the work is finished the
+effect is charming.</p>
+
+<p>I tasted a green coconut plucked direct from the palm by a native, who,
+bribed by a shilling, scaled the long, straight stem at my request. The
+milk contained in the shell (though perhaps a trifle sickly) was
+deliciously cool, and on a hot day most refreshing.</p>
+
+<p>The attire of the natives of the Tongan group is extremely picturesque and
+harmonises admirably with their surroundings. Holy Tonga and indeed all
+the islands of this group are subject to a curious law which enacts that
+all classes of natives, whether male or female, must wear an upper as well
+as a lower garment. Both men and women adorn themselves with flowers,
+garlands about their necks, wreaths of flowers in their hair. The air was
+heavy with the scent of orange blossom, cape jasmine, and frangipani.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>I sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and watched the little sheeny
+blue-tailed lizards flicker to and fro, and indeed it was delicious to
+feel no fear of poisonous reptiles, for in these delectable isles there
+are none, no snakes&mdash;save the beautiful and harmless water snakes&mdash;no
+scorpions, no centipedes, not even the death-dealing spider of New
+Zealand.</p>
+
+<p>Our steamer left Nukualofa that evening, and we took on board a number of
+natives bound for Samoa. The entire population of the island seemed to
+have gathered together in a picturesque group on the shore to bid them
+farewell; and this group formed a brilliant foreground to our parting view
+of Tonga, with its green esplanade, its villa palace, its church and its
+white Government Offices, the latter of which stood boldly out against the
+groves of bananas and long feathery vistas of coconut palms.<a name='fna_2' id='fna_2' href='#f_2'><small>[2]</small></a></p>
+
+<p>We steamed out of the harbour of Nukualofa by a different passage to that
+by which we had entered, and before we passed the reef we had to make our
+way through a perfect network of little islands, all alike, palm-fringed
+and scattered about at random like flowers in a meadow.</p>
+
+<p>Like beasts of prey the white waves leapt against the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> coral barrier, and
+to right and left of us for a brief space showed white gleams of reef, but
+a moment later we had left the treacherous surf behind us and were
+steaming across a deep purple fathomless ocean. As I stood on the deck
+still gazing shoreward, the foam of the waves became azure under my eyes,
+whilst delicately-coloured flying-fish, denizens of two elements, skimmed
+like gigantic sea-butterflies over the surface of the water, flitting to
+and fro in the uncontrolled enjoyment of life and motion.</p>
+
+<p>That night the native passengers, rolled up in Tapa, their heads resting
+on hollow wooden pillows, camped on deck; the scent of the coconut oil
+with which they anointed their sleek smooth bodies was quite overpowering,
+especially when blended with the fragrance of the cissies (or flower
+girdles) worn around their waists, and with that of the garlands of
+flowers and berries hung so lavishly about their necks.</p>
+
+<p>A tropic night, and the moon at the full! The pure white radiance threw
+everything into strong relief. The natives slept at intervals and danced
+at intervals, crooning a strange weird chant to the accompaniment of much
+beating of hands.</p>
+
+<p>By daylight next morning we anchored in the roadstead of Lefuka, the
+principal island in the Haapai group.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> A long low shore, a foreground of
+white sand, a fringe of coconut palms with thicker vegetation beyond,
+brown thatched roofs of native houses, and white ones of Europeans! Such
+was Pangai town as seen from the deck of our steamer. Seaward, on the
+other hand, there was the already familiar line of coral reef and a score
+of &#8220;Summer isles of Eden lying in dark purple spheres of sea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img03.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">HAAMUNGA OR TRILITHON IN TONGA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The whole of our passengers, just six in number, landed for a tour of
+inspection. In front of nearly every native house, a horse was hobbled,
+but in spite of the abundance of green pasturage the unfortunate animals
+looked half starved, and their thin legs were so weak that I wondered how
+they could do any work at all. On quitting the town, however, we left the
+houses behind, and strolled away into the bush, where we again had only
+the green turf under our feet, and again saw round us an absolutely level
+country. Meanwhile, huge fronds of coconut palms did their best to shield
+us from the sun, and the broad leaves of the banana cast cool shadows
+across our path. Before we had gone far, the most wonderful lean, lank,
+long-legged, reddish-brown pigs went scudding across our track, and
+disappeared amongst the trees. They were the direct descendants, I was
+told, of the pigs left here by Captain Cook. It did <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>not take us more
+than an hour to walk right across Lefuka, until we reached its eastern
+shore. The tide was dead low, and we could see the outlines of the dry
+coral reefs, which connect all these islands as with a chain. On the way,
+one of our party related how, not so long ago, the coast was bodily raised
+twenty feet higher by an earthquake, and how the earthquake was followed
+by a great tidal wave. A halt was called, and while we rested on the coral
+beach and ate our fill of &#8220;mummy&#8221; apples<a name='fna_3' id='fna_3' href='#f_3'><small>[3]</small></a>&mdash;one of our company amused us
+with the account of a wonderful Haamunga or Trilithon in Tonga, which,
+alas, we had no chance of visiting. This Trilithon, which is about sixteen
+miles inland from Tongatabu, seems to afford evidence of the former
+existence, in Tonga, of an ancient civilisation, that of some bygone
+people who, in common with the Maories, were possessed of religious
+instincts far in advance of the conquering Polynesians, who succeeded
+them. It consists of two enormous upright blocks of stone with a massive
+slab on the top, the latter being curiously countersunk into the two
+uprights. The whole structure is strongly reminiscent of our cromlechs at
+Stonehenge and elsewhere, recalling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> the theory of a universal sun
+worship. We talked this subject out as we sat, under the shade of the
+palms, on the sun-warmed beach, then we returned to the landing stage by
+another route.</p>
+
+<p>On these low-lying islands the coconut palms thrive well and bear
+abundantly, for there is nothing to impede the passage of the strong salt
+breeze right across the level surface of the Haapaian group, and without
+this strong salt air the coconut cannot thrive.</p>
+
+<p>From Lefuka we steamed to Vavau, but as our arrival in Vavau marks the
+second stage in my pilgrimage, I will reserve it for a fresh chapter.
+Henceforth, we were to be confronted by an entirely new type of landscape;
+the reign of the level surface was ended.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img04.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">HARBOUR OF VAVAU</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>&#8220;The coral waxes, the palm grows, but man departs.&#8221;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>From an old Tahitian proverb.</i></span></td></tr></table>
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">We</span> entered the land-locked harbour of Vavau in all the glory of a moon
+scarcely past the full. And what a contrast to the islands from which we
+had just parted! On every side of us towered mountains, broken, rugged,
+height upon height, peak above peak. In every crevice of the mountain the
+forest harboured, and everywhere flourished the feathery palm, that
+Giraffe of Vegetables, as Stevenson so humorously describes it, nestling,
+crowding, climbing to the summit.</p>
+
+<p>It was midnight before we anchored alongside the jetty. The morning light
+showed us all the varied beauty of the port of Neiaufu. In place of the
+level shores, rising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> only a few feet above high-water mark, bold and
+rugged headlands jutted seawards, and every islet in the Archipelago was
+clear and definite. Let Stevenson, however, here speak in person, for
+though he is not dealing with this particular island, yet his description
+might have been written for it. &#8220;The land heaved up in peaks and rising
+vales; it fell in cliffs and buttresses; its colour ran through fifty
+modulations in a scale of pearl, rose and olive; and it was crowned above
+by opalescent clouds. The suffusion of vague hues deceived the eye; the
+shadows of clouds were confounded with the articulations of the mountain,
+and the isle and its unsubstantial canopy rose and shimmered before us
+like a single mass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wooded hills, which spring from the water&#8217;s edge, surround what seems to
+be a beautiful lagoon, some four miles long and two wide. At the eastern
+end there is a very narrow boat-passage. Our entrance was effected by the
+western passage, which is also narrow but has deep water at the point. On
+either side were white signal beacons, such as I have seen at the mouth of
+the Brisbane. The great wharf to which we were moored was approached by a
+road of coral, white to the point of dazzlement in the tropic sunshine.
+The foreshore was being reclaimed by prison labour; the prisoners, men as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+well as women, looked sleek and well favoured, they chanted songs as they
+worked, and showed no signs about them whatever of ill-usage or
+over-strain.</p>
+
+<p>There is no beach at Vavau. On the sloping banks, which are green to the
+water&#8217;s edge, thatched houses peep through the orange-trees; indeed the
+whole island seems one delightful orange grove, the sward was everywhere
+littered with the freshly fallen fruit, the air was fragrant with the
+subtle essence of blossom and fruit combined. With the exception of the
+coral road leading to the jetty, all the paths at Nieaufu (as at
+Nukualofa) are simply long stretches of green sward, overspread with
+orange-trees. We climbed a steep hill, and while we rested on the top,
+feasted our eyes upon a sight which was one to dream of. Everywhere little
+cone-shaped islands outlined with big-fronded palms, everywhere that
+wonderful violet sea, and between the golden gleam of the oranges we saw
+the deep blue of the sky. It was an ecstasy in colour, a vision rather
+than a prospect. From henceforth my standard of the beautiful was lifted
+to a higher plane, and the words &#8220;The eye hath not seen, neither hath it
+entered into the heart of man to conceive,&#8221; had, for me, acquired a deeper
+and intenser significance.</p>
+
+<p>On the way back we encountered a French Catholic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> priest, and after a
+little chat the old man took us to his house and initiated us into the
+mysteries of Kava drinking. Stevenson tells us so much about Kava and Kava
+feasts, that I make no apology for describing the process. The priest&#8217;s
+room was very plainly furnished, in the centre was the bowl carved out of
+a solid block of wood and standing on four legs. That it had been long in
+use was evident from the fine opalescent enamelling of the inside. Beside
+it were the Kava stones.</p>
+
+<p>Two native girls appeared bearing the Kava&mdash;the root of the <i>Piper
+Methysticum</i>, about which in its raw state there was nothing at all
+distinctive. Pieces of the Kava were torn, or bitten off, pounded between
+the two stones and cast into the bowl. Then while one of the girls brought
+water and poured it upon the pounded root, the other, with shapely brown
+arms bare to the shoulder, kneaded the mass, until the whole virtue of the
+Kava was expressed into the water.</p>
+
+<p>Not until the bowl was half full of a frothy, muddy mixture did the
+straining process begin. A lump of fibre, made from the bark of the yellow
+hibiscus, was cast into the Kava, and the girls with arms dipped in the
+mixture up to the elbow, proceeded to take up the liquor with this
+improvised sponge, wring it over the bowl till <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>it was dry, and fill it
+again, repeating this process until the fibre had absorbed all the gritty
+particles.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img05.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">NATIVE GIRLS MAKING KAVA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The Kava was now ready for drinking, and with great ceremony one of the
+girls filled a half coconut shell with the liquor and handed it to one of
+our number, who, as the custom is, drained it without drawing a breath,
+and then sent the empty cup spinning like a tee-to-tum across the floor to
+the girls.</p>
+
+<p>My turn came soon and I never saw a more uninviting looking drink,
+nevertheless I boldly followed the example set me and emptied the shell.
+The bitter, hot, acrid taste seemed to me at first nauseating to the last
+degree&mdash;but after! To appreciate Kava you must estimate it from the
+standpoint of <i>After</i>. My mouth felt clean, cool, wholesome, and
+invigorated as it had never felt before, and never will again until by
+good chance I light upon another bowl of Kava.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you found it good?&#8221; inquired the old priest in French. My &#8220;Mais oui,
+Monsieur, apr&egrave;s,&#8221; raised a general laugh. Nevertheless the opinion was
+unanimous that it is only in the &#8220;Apr&egrave;s&#8221; that you can enjoy Kava. To
+define a sensation is difficult, but most of us are familiar with the
+effect of the external application of menthol. Transfer that effect to an
+internal sensation (on a very hot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> day), and you will then know something
+of the delights of Kava drinking.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon we hired a sailing-boat and paid a visit to a cave some
+four miles down the harbour. The entrance looked impossible for so large a
+boat as ours, but our native boatman hauled down the sail and assured us
+that it was all right. Like Brer Rabbit, we &#8220;lay low,&#8221; and when we lifted
+ourselves up we were inside.</p>
+
+<p>Wonderful, dreamlike, unreal, impossible: that was the general verdict.
+Like giant icicles that had never felt the touch of frost the huge, green,
+semi-transparent and sharply pointed stalactites clustered about the
+entrance. From floor to vaulted roof rose buttressed columns dividing the
+cave into shadowy alcoves, and as for size&mdash;you could put the Blue Grotto
+at Capri into one of those alcoves. The lofty arched roof was fretted like
+that of a cathedral, but it was the light, not the vast outlines, that
+arrested me, and held me spellbound&mdash;the weird effect of the sunshine
+without reflected through the medium of this dim water world.</p>
+
+<p>I can describe what I saw, but I cannot hope to convey any idea of the
+sensation produced by the eye-witness. Gliding to and fro in sinuous coils
+were long striped water-snakes, blue and black, pink and black, green and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+black. Did Matthew Arnold dream of such a cavern when he wrote:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;When the sea snakes coil and turn,<br />
+Dry their mail, and bask in the brine&#8221;?</p>
+
+<p>Our boatman caught two of the sheeny, harmless creatures, and after
+hooding them we carried them back to the steamer, but pity proved stronger
+than the lust of possession and we gave them their liberty. I can see them
+now (as one after the other I threw them over the side) making directly
+for the cave. Did they reach it? Who shall say?</p>
+
+<p>Glued to the fretted roof were the nests of innumerable swallows, and in
+the dim innermost recesses queer bat-like creatures hung suspended by
+their claws. An eerie feeling possessed us, a sudden silence reigned, the
+impossible seemed possible here, the real unreal. One of our native
+boatmen struck the rock with the butt-end of an oar&mdash;it gave back a
+strange, reverberant, hollow sound, then from the darkness within came a
+weird, mocking echo.</p>
+
+<p>With the help of a rope, furnished by our helmsman, I climbed a sort of
+natural stairway, and crouching on an overhanging ledge, looked down. The
+peculiar malachite green of the water now seemed intensified a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+hundred-fold, and the boat, its occupants, even the coral garden below,
+became green under my eyes. The cave was as cold as winter inside, in
+spite of the tropical heat without&mdash;cold and yet airless, as if the spell
+of an enchantment held the place in thrall. One and all we were glad to
+back out of it, re-hoist the sail, and return to our floating home.</p>
+
+<p>Not far from this cave was a barren rock, standing out above the sea,
+stark and sheer, a veritable All-Alone-Stone, only that there was no Madam
+Gairfowl perched thereon. Below this rock is a submarine cavern, only to
+be reached by diving. Here, so the legend goes, an island chief once held
+a beautiful maiden in thrall, until he won her to his will. He had stolen
+her from her tribe and here he hid her. In this same cavern, too, in more
+recent years, a maiden of Vavau saved the life of her wounded lover by
+nursing him secretly during the course of a tribal feud. For the details
+of these pretty stories, however, I must refer my readers to Mariner&#8217;s
+&#8220;Tonga.&#8221; I was further told that the captain of a British man-of-war once
+had the hardihood to dive in search of the entrance of this cave, and that
+he found it to be all that it was described, but that in returning to the
+surface he grazed his back against the coral, and died a few days later of
+acute blood poisoning.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img06.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">TOWN OF APIA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>At sunset we heaved the anchor and steamed for Apia. Our course was still
+in a north-easterly direction and so continued for three hundred and
+forty-five miles, when we attained the Samoan or Navigator group. This
+last name was given by their discoverer, Bougainville, who christened them
+thus out of compliment to the dexterity of the natives, whom he found
+sailing their canoes far out at sea.</p>
+
+<p>The group consists of ten inhabited islands, of which the principal are
+Savaai, Upolu, Tutuila, Manu&#8217;a Olosenga, Ofu, Manono, and Apolima.
+Upolu&mdash;Stevenson&#8217;s Island&mdash;although not the largest, is by far the most
+important. It is forty miles long and ten broad. We passed along the
+eastern end, coasting along two lovely rocky islets covered with
+vegetation of the most varied green.</p>
+
+<p>The capital of Upoli is Apia, and this town gives its name to the bay.</p>
+
+<p>The Bay of Apia is crescent-shaped, having the point of Mulinuu for the
+western, and the point of Matatu for the eastern, tip of the horn.
+Although the coral reef stretches from tip to tip, there is, in the very
+middle, a natural gap in the submarine coral wall, deep enough and broad
+enough to give passage even to a man-of-war.</p>
+
+<p>We cast anchor at daylight, and as I looked over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> side of the steamer
+a sense of familiarity pervaded the landscape, possibly to be accounted
+for by the fact that the slender, feathery palms had ceased to be
+distinctive features; not that palms were lacking, but that their long,
+straight stems were crowded out by a dense growth of other trees. In one
+of his letters Stevenson himself comments on this, and implies that this
+&#8220;home likeness&#8221; formed one of the attractions which drew him to Upolu.</p>
+
+<p>The little town of Apia nestles at the foot of a peaked and forest-clad
+mountain; indeed the whole of the shore, which is everywhere green and
+level, is overshadowed by inland mountain tops.</p>
+
+<p>At last I had attained the goal of my pilgrimage; at last I was within
+hail of that lonely plateau, where all that was mortal of Robert Louis
+Stevenson was laid to rest some eight years ago.</p>
+
+<p>I looked shoreward with eyes full of reverence and wonder. This island
+with its wooded peak was the &#8220;surfy palm-built bubble&#8221; of Gosse&#8217;s
+wonderful poem. The rhythm of the words made music in my brain.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Now the skies are pure above you, Tusitala,<br />
+Feathered trees bow down before you,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>Perfumed winds from shining waters<br />
+Stir the sanguine-leaved hibiscus,<br />
+That your kingdom&#8217;s dusk-eyed daughters<br />
+Weave about their shining tresses,<br />
+Dew-fed guavas drop their viscous<br />
+Honey at the sun&#8217;s caresses,<br />
+Where eternal summer blesses<br />
+Your ethereal musky highlands.&#8221;<br />
+&#8220;You are circled, as by magic,<br />
+In a surfy palm-built bubble, Tusitala.<br />
+Fate hath chosen, but the choice is<br />
+Half delectable, half tragic,<br />
+For we hear you speak like Moses,<br />
+And we greet you back enchanted,<br />
+But reply&#8217;s no sooner granted<br />
+Than the rifted cloud-land closes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This poem, which forms the dedication to <i>Russet and Silver</i>, was received
+by Stevenson only a few days before his death. The fact that he had barely
+read it ere the &#8220;rifted cloud-land&#8221; did indeed close upon him imparts an
+almost prophetic significance to the last two lines.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>&#8220;Alas! for Tusitala he sleeps in the forest.&#8221;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Native Lament.</i></span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Vailima</span> is only about three miles from Apia, but the road ascends the
+whole way, and in this land &#8220;where it is always afternoon&#8221; one does not
+care for much exertion; so a carriage was engaged to drive us thither, and
+we had John Chinaman for coachman.</p>
+
+<p>That morning the captain and a fellow-passenger had urged us not to
+attempt the ascent of Mount Veea. &#8220;Go and see the house by all means, but
+the grave is impossible for ladies.&#8221; &#8220;Only last trip,&#8221; said the captain,
+&#8220;two of our passengers, both comparatively young men, got lost in the bush
+on Mount Veea, never found the grave at all, and returned to the
+<i>Manipouri</i> dead beat, after keeping me waiting four hours. But I give you
+due warning, ladies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> I shall not wait for you, don&#8217;t think it for a
+moment. I shall just go off and leave you here.&#8221; I can recall now the
+twinkle in his brown eyes as the captain spoke, a twinkle that gave the
+lie to his words. Nevertheless, in spite of all warnings, we, the only
+three ladies on board, adhered to our intention of making the ascent,
+though we promised to take a native guide to show us the way.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img07.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>We drove up a long, winding hill, in a very dilapidated wagonette. I sat
+by the driver, and felt sorry for our pair of lean and scraggy horses as
+they toiled painfully upwards. The heat was stifling, and the still, tense
+air vibrated with every sound, like a tightly drawn string. At last we
+reached the Road of the Loving Heart. This road exists as a touching
+memorial to the high regard in which Tusitala&mdash;the story teller&mdash;was held
+by the natives. And here it may be well to add that the name of Tusitala
+was given to Stevenson, not because the Samoans knew or loved his books,
+but because it is their custom to define the individual either by his or
+her profession, by some trait or characteristic, or even by an article of
+attire. Hence when the chiefs inquired concerning this new arrival, &#8220;What
+does he do? How does he live?&#8221; they were told &#8220;He writes books; he tells
+stories&#8221;; and from that day onward he was &#8220;Tusitala, the Story Teller,&#8221;
+just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> Mrs. Strong was (I believe) known as &#8220;The Flower-Giver&#8221; (I forget
+the native equivalent), because she was in the habit of giving flowers to
+her visitors.</p>
+
+<p>This information came from Captain Crawshaw, who was himself a personal
+friend of the late novelist, and showed me, by the way, quite a number of
+letters he had received from Stevenson himself. One of them interested me
+particularly, since in it Stevenson begged the captain to try and discover
+the whereabouts of a friend of his who had got into trouble. &#8220;Save him
+from his worst enemy&mdash;himself. Bring him to me. Spare no expense in the
+matter. I will be answerable.&#8221; Such was the substance of this letter as
+far as I can recall it, and it ended in the following characteristic
+fashion:&mdash;&#8220;Signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of my Maker, and
+the ink-pot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson.</span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But I am wandering into bye-ways, and I must hasten to return to Ala Loto
+Alofa (which is the Samoan equivalent for the name of the road referred
+to).<a name='fna_4' id='fna_4' href='#f_4'><small>[4]</small></a> Without going into the political details the facts are, briefly,
+that Stevenson had been very good to the six imprisoned chiefs of
+Mataafa&#8217;s following, and when their term of imprisonment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> expired, these
+men, out of gratitude, cut a road through the bush to Vailima.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img08.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">KAVA FEAST GIVEN TO THE CHIEFS ON COMPLETION OF THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>This work was a labour of love, the men who engaged in it were mostly of a
+high class, and they would neither take wages nor any sort of payment in
+kind. How this pleased Stevenson may be gathered from the following:&mdash;&#8220;Now
+whether or not this impulse will last them through the road does not
+matter to me one hair. It is the fact that they have attempted it, that
+they have volunteered, and are now trying to execute, a thing that was
+never before heard of in Samoa. Think of it! It is road making, the most
+fruitful cause, after taxes, of all rebellion in Samoa, a thing to which
+they could not be wiled with money, nor driven by punishment. It does give
+me a sense of having done something in Samoa after all.&#8221;<a name='fna_5' id='fna_5' href='#f_5'><small>[5]</small></a></p>
+
+<p>Stevenson had purposed putting up a notice of the new road, with its name
+in large letters with a few words of thanks for the chiefs, and a board
+was prepared for the purpose, painted and spaced for the lettering, when
+the chiefs arrived with their own inscription carefully written out. They
+begged so earnestly to have this printed instead that their wish was
+gratified. I was privileged to read the notice at the corner of the wide
+road leading to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> the gates of Vailima.<a name='fna_6' id='fna_6' href='#f_6'><small>[6]</small></a> The inscription is in Samoan,
+but translated into English runs as follows: &#8220;The Road of the Loving
+Heart&#8221; (Ala Loto Alofa), &#8220;Remembering the great care of his Highness
+Tusitala, and his loving care when we were in prison and sore distressed,
+we have prepared him an enduring present, this road which we have dug to
+last for ever. It shall never be muddy, it shall endure, this road that we
+have dug.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On arrival at the finger-post our Chinaman was fain to be rid of us, so he
+announced, with a grin on his yellow face, &#8220;Horsee too muchee tired,
+missie walk now, missie catchee Vailima chop-chop.&#8221; We had, however, been
+forewarned what to expect by the captain, so I merely remarked, &#8220;Savey,
+John no catchee Vailima, no catchee pay.&#8221; And John drove on!</p>
+
+<p>The Road of the Loving Heart, if very steep, has a fairly level surface.
+On either side are palms, bread fruit trees and bananas. Vailima
+(literally, &#8220;Five Rivers&#8221;) is approached by a short drive, through a gate,
+into a lovely garden. Mrs. Strong tells me that the present owner has
+painted on that gate the words&mdash;&#8220;Villa Vailima.&#8221; I am happy to say,
+however, that neither of us observed this atrocity.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img09.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>The house itself is well designed and has a double verandah; it is built
+of wood throughout, and stands on very high ground. On the left hand, as
+we faced the house, was the smaller villa once occupied by Mrs. Strong. On
+the right, towering up into the blue dome above, was Mount Veea, and on
+the wooded height (far beyond ken)&mdash;<span class="smcaplc">THE GRAVE</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Not a soul was visible, the place was bathed in sunshine and &#8220;steeped in
+silentness,&#8221; not even a dog barked at our approach. The crotons,
+dracaenas, and other plants of brilliant foliage made patches of vivid
+colour on the well-kept lawns, and everywhere was the scent of orange
+blossom, gardenia, and frangipani.</p>
+
+<p>Under the shadow of the broad verandah the air was cool and pleasant, and
+we three lingered there awhile, as on the threshold of a temple. Before us
+was the really magnificent hall, some sixty feet long by forty wide, the
+door standing open, as in the days of Tusitala, but the dark panelling
+within was a thing of the past, and the walls were now painted a soft cool
+green.</p>
+
+<p>All his furniture was gone&mdash;we were prepared for that&mdash;but the window was
+there, the window below which he lay on the low settle and breathed his
+last. As I stood there the whole scene flashed across my mental vision,
+with its awful, and perhaps merciful, unexpectedness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>He had recorded, often enough, his desire for such an end. &#8220;I wish to die
+in my boots, no more Land of Counterpane for me! If only I could secure a
+violent end, what a fine success! To be drowned, to be shot, to be thrown
+from a horse, aye, to be hanged, rather than pass again through that slow
+dissolution.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No less has he left on record his attitude towards impending death. &#8220;By
+all means begin your folio, even if the doctor does not give you a year,
+even if he hesitates about a month, make one brave push and see what can
+be accomplished in a week. It is not only in finished undertakings that we
+ought to honour useful labour. A spirit goes out of the man who means
+execution which outlives the most untimely end.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hall of Vailima is (as Mr. Balfour tells us) quite the feature of the
+house. I have before referred to its size, it covers the whole area of the
+building. Facing us, as we entered, was the broad polished wooden
+staircase leading to the upper storey. We passed through the hall and out
+of a door on the other side of it; somewhere in the back premises we
+unearthed a Samoan woman, attired in very scanty raiment, busily engaged
+in peeling potatoes. To her we addressed ourselves, first in English and
+then in German, but it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> all to no purpose. Next we resorted to
+signs. Pointing to the mountain top, I said, &#8220;Tusitala.&#8221; The word acted as
+a talisman, the brown face wreathed itself in smiles, the dark eyes
+kindled into comprehension. Motioning to us to remain where we were, she
+disappeared, and soon returned with a small brown girl, whose only garment
+was a ragged blue pinafore sewn up at the back.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img10.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">THE HALL OF VAILIMA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The little maiden (she might have been ten or eleven years of age) ran up
+to us quite gleefully, intimated by smiles and gestures that she was
+prepared to act as guide, and at once possessed herself of our heavy
+basket of fruit. We followed her through a little wicket gate which led
+into a lovely grove with oranges on one side and bananas on the other, the
+leaves of the latter being larger and more glossy than any I have seen
+before or since. The play of light and shadow here was something to dream
+of, and often we stood still too enraptured to pursue our way. Soon we
+crossed a little mountain stream, clear as crystal, with but a single
+plank for bridge, and lingered awhile to admire the cream-breasted
+kingfishers and the numerous little<a name='fna_7' id='fna_7' href='#f_7'><small>[7]</small></a> crayfish disporting themselves in
+and above the water. In time we left the cultivated land behind and
+followed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> slender path into the bush, where under foot was a dense
+growth of sensitive plant with delicately cut foliage and little fluffy
+pink ball-like blossoms. Our footsteps were marked by the quivering and
+shrinking of the shy, tremulous leaves, but as I looked back they once
+more stood bravely erect. This was the plant that baffled all poor
+Stevenson&#8217;s efforts at eradication, living, thriving, ever renewing itself
+in spite of him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A fool,&#8221; says he, &#8220;brought it to this island in a pot, and used to
+lecture and sentimentalize over the tender thing. The tender thing has now
+taken charge of this island, and men fight it, with torn hands, for bread
+and life. A singular insidious thing, shrinking and biting like a weasel,
+clutching by its roots as a limpet clutches to a rock.&#8221;<a name='fna_8' id='fna_8' href='#f_8'><small>[8]</small></a></p>
+
+<p>The trees here were simply magnificent, the fern life too was everywhere
+abundant, exquisite ferns, such as we grow in our hot-houses at home.
+Trees, ferns, creepers, flowers were tangled together in a vast net-work
+of luxuriant vegetation, each individual plant fighting for its very
+existence, contending for its due share of light, and air, and space. Here
+it was that Stevenson conceived his poem of &#8220;The Woodman&#8221;; every word of
+it came home to me with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> the inevitableness of absolute truth as we fought
+our way upward and onward.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I saw the wood for what it was,<br />
+The lost and the victorious cause,<br />
+The deadly battle pitched in line,<br />
+Saw silent weapons cross and shine,<br />
+Silent defeat, silent assault,<br />
+A battle and a burial vault.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stevenson&#8217;s attitude towards nature was a very remarkable one. Like
+Wordsworth, he endued her with a real, living personality, but unlike
+Wordsworth, he never seems to enter into a direct communion with her. She
+does not soothe him into &#8220;a wise passiveness,&#8221; she rather inspires him
+with a strange, fierce energy. Take this passage, selected almost at
+random from one of his published letters to Sidney Colvin: &#8220;I wonder if
+any one ever had the same attitude to nature as I hold and have held for
+so long. This business (of weeding) fascinates me like a tune or a
+passion, yet all the while I thrill with a strong distaste. The horror of
+the thing, objective and subjective, is always present in my mind, the
+horror of creeping things, a superstitious horror of the void and the
+powers about me, the horror of my own devastation and continual murders.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
+The life of the plants comes through my finger tips, their struggles go to
+my heart like supplications, I feel myself blood boltered&mdash;then I look
+back on my cleared grass, and count myself an ally in a fair quarrel, and
+make stout my heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The living individual personality of nature is here as clearly recognised
+as Wordsworth himself recognised it, but the standpoint of regard is
+wholly different. Stevenson was aware of the spirit that clothed itself
+with the visible, but he was no dreamy lover enamoured of that spirit. He
+was rather (as he so often says) the ally in a fair quarrel, only desirous
+of bending Nature to his will, of pitting his strength against hers.</p>
+
+<p>But I am digressing, and the mountain top and the grave are before me, and
+I am in the forest on my way thither. Now and again a tiny bright-coloured
+bird would flash across the path, now and again a huge trail of giant
+convolvulus, blue as the sky, would bar our progress. Over an hour had
+elapsed before we gained the summit, and the latter half of the ascent was
+by far the most difficult.</p>
+
+<p>Small wonder that sixty natives were required to get the coffin up, and
+even so the question will always remain, How did they accomplish the feat?
+One may talk of the Road of the Loving Heart, but this was a veritable
+Via<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> Dolorosa, a road of Sorrow and of Pity. The path zigzagged through
+the forest until it ended in a slender, fern-grown, almost imperceptible
+bush-track. More than once it led over the face of the solid rock, but
+branches of creepers, by which it was easy to swing oneself up, were
+abundant, though still the top appeared to recede, and to become more and
+more unattainable.</p>
+
+<p>The mosquitos made the lives of my two companions a burden; on all sides
+of us we heard their sinister aereal trumpeting, the heat was
+insupportable&mdash;stifling, the very air seemed stagnant and dead, but, quite
+unawares, we were gradually nearing our goal. Suddenly our little
+brown-skinned guide, who was travelling ever so far ahead, in spite of the
+burden of our heavy basket of fruit, flung herself down on a small plateau
+just above us, and we, toiling painfully after, knew we had attained.</p>
+
+<p>A minute later and we stood in reverent silence beside a massive
+sarcophagus, constructed of concrete and surrounded by a broad slab. Not
+an ideal structure by any manner of means, not even beautiful, and yet in
+its massive ruggedness it somehow suited the man and the place. The broad
+slab was strewn with faded wreaths and flowers, and on one side of the
+sarcophagus were inscribed Stevenson&#8217;s name, with the date of his birth
+and death,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> also these eight lines, familiar to all who have read his
+poems:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Under the wide and starry sky,<br />
+Dig the grave and let me lie,<br />
+Glad did I live and gladly die,<br />
+And I lay me down with a will.<br />
+This be the verse you grave for me,<br />
+Here he lies where he longed to be,<br />
+Home is the sailor, home from the sea,<br />
+And the hunter home from the hill.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On the other side was an inscription in Samoan, which translated is
+&#8220;Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy
+people shall be my people and thy God my God; where thou diest I will die,
+and there will I be buried.&#8221; On either side of this text was graven a
+thistle and a hibiscus flower.</p>
+
+<p>The chiefs have tabooed the use of firearms, or other weapons, on Mount
+Veea, in order that the birds may live there undisturbed and unafraid, and
+build their nests in the trees around Tusitala&#8217;s grave.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img11.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">VIEW OF VAILIMA FROM STEVENSON&#8217;S GRAVE</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>We remained on the plateau for over an hour resting our weary limbs, and
+eating our lunch of fruit; and during that time we sat on the broad
+sun-warmed slab. A tiny lizard, with a golden head, a green body, and a
+blue tail,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> flickered to and fro. Overhead a huge flying fox, with
+outspread &#8220;batty wings&#8221; sailed majestically. We seemed alone in the world,
+we four human beings, and as we gazed about us we saw everywhere, far
+beneath us, the beautiful &#8220;sapphire-spangled marriage-ring of the land,&#8221;
+and down from us to the blueness, and beyond us, to an infinitude of
+distance, billow upon billow of wooded heights. Sitting there, on that
+green and level plateau on the summit of the mountain, my thoughts turned
+involuntarily to the last lofty resting-place of Browning&#8217;s &#8220;Grammarian.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Well, here&#8217;s the platform, here&#8217;s the proper place!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hail to your purlieus,</span><br />
+All ye high flyers of the feathered race,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Swallows and curlews!&#8221;</span><br />
+&#8220;Here, here&#8217;s his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lightnings are loosened,</span><br />
+Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Peace let the dew send!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>The wind sighed softly in the branches of the <i>Tavau</i> trees, from out the
+green recesses of the <i>Toi</i> came the plaintive coo of the wood-pigeon. In
+and out of the branches of the magnificent <i>Fau</i> tree, which overhangs the
+grave, a kingfisher, sea-blue, iridescent, flitted to and fro, whilst a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+scarlet hibiscus, in full flower, showed up royally against the gray
+lichened cement. All around was light and life and colour, and I said to
+myself, &#8220;He is made one with nature&#8221;; he is now, body and soul and spirit,
+commingled with the loveliness around. He who longed in life to scale the
+height, he who attained his wish only in death, has become in himself a
+parable of fulfilment. No need now for that heart-sick cry:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,<br />
+Say, could that lad be I.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No need now for the despairing finality of:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I have trod the upward and the downward slopes,<br />
+I have endured and done in the days of yore,<br />
+I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope,<br />
+And I have lived, and loved, and closed the door.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Death has set his seal of peace on the unequal conflict of mind and
+matter; the All-Mother has gathered him to herself.</p>
+
+<p>In years to come, when his grave is perchance forgotten, a rugged ruin,
+home of the lizard and the bat, Tusitala&mdash;the story teller&mdash;&#8220;the man with
+a heart of gold&#8221; (as I so often heard him designated in the Islands) will
+live, when it may be his tales have ceased to interest, in the tender<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
+remembrance of those whose lives he beautified, and whose hearts he warmed
+into gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img12.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">THE STAIRCASE, VAILIMA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>So we left him, &#8220;still loftier than the world suspects, living and dying,&#8221;
+and once more, following the footsteps of our guide, we took up that ferny
+moss-grown track. It was scarcely less easy to scramble down the steep
+descent than it had been to toil upwards. But &#8220;time and the hour run
+through the roughest day,&#8221; and we eventually arrived at the bottom, torn
+and scratched and not a little weary, but well content, only somewhat
+regretful that the visit to the grave was over and not still to come,
+comforting each other with the recollection that the house yet remained to
+be explored.</p>
+
+<p>Vailima is not much changed since the days when Robert Louis Stevenson
+lived there. Where the walls had been, in the late native war, riddled
+with shot, they had been renewed, but so exactly on the old lines that the
+change was scarcely perceptible. Although the house has been added to, and
+in my estimation considerably improved thereby, yet the old part remains
+intact.</p>
+
+<p>Herr Conrade, the manager for Herr Kunz, the present owner, was kind
+enough to show us everything, but naturally Stevenson&#8217;s suite of rooms
+were the only ones that possessed any special interest. First his bedroom,
+then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> his library, and lastly his Temple of Peace, the innermost shrine
+where he wrote, and which, opening as it did on to the upper verandah,
+commanded a magnificent view of sea and mountain. From the verandah could
+be seen the gleam of the sunlight on the breaking surf around the far
+distant bay. On the left, fronting seaward, were the heights where he was
+laid to rest.</p>
+
+<p>Between two of the upper rooms (the bedroom and the library), there used
+to be a square hole, just large enough for a man to crawl through on hands
+and knees.<a name='fna_9' id='fna_9' href='#f_9'><small>[9]</small></a> This was formerly the only entrance, but the present owner
+has had a door put up on which the outline of the hole is still indicated.</p>
+
+<p>With the exception of these rooms, Vailima might have belonged to any
+other European of wealth and taste.</p>
+
+<p>The question has been raised, Was Stevenson contented in Samoa? Did those
+three years bring him pleasure? May we not answer, Yes! and not only
+pleasure but profit. For the profit, note the books written during this
+period, <i>The Master of Ballantrae</i>, and the unfinished <i>Weir of
+Hermiston</i>!</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img13.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">VAILIMA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>For the pleasure he shall speak for himself, and mark the subtle
+distinction he draws between happiness and pleasure. &#8220;I was only happy
+once&mdash;that was at Hy&egrave;res, it came to an end from a variety of reasons,
+decline of health, change of place, increase of money, age with his
+stealing steps; since then, as before then, I know not what it means. But
+I know pleasure still, pleasure with a thousand faces and none perfect, a
+thousand tongues all broken, a thousand hands and all of them with
+scratching nails. High among these I place this delight of weeding out
+here, alone by the garrulous water, under the silence of the high wood,
+broken by incongruous sounds of birds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Intense in all he did, Tusitala could do nothing by halves,&#8221; said a man
+who knew him well. &#8220;Whether it was at clearing land or writing books he
+always worked at the top of his power, and enjoying as he did the life of
+the gay house party in the evening, he would rise at daylight to make up
+his loss of time.&#8221; His was the old, old story of the sword that wore out
+the scabbard&mdash;flesh and spirit at issue, and the flesh so frail, so
+unequal to the conflict. There was an Austrian Count in Upolu whom the
+captain took us one day to see, and who, to use the colonial word,
+&#8220;batched&#8221; in a little bungalow in the midst of a huge coconut plantation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>The bungalow contained but one room&mdash;the bedroom, and the broad encircling
+verandah served for sitting room. Here we sat and talked about Tusitala,
+and drank to his memory. The conversation turned on Vailima, and our host
+took us within and showed us the only two adornments that his room
+possessed. Over his camp bed hung a framed photograph bearing the
+inscription &#8220;My friend Tusitala,&#8221; and fronting the bed was another of the
+house and Mount Veea.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I keep him there, for he was my saviour, and I wish &#8216;good
+night&#8217; and &#8216;good morning,&#8217; every day, both to himself and to his old
+home.&#8221; The count then told us that when he was stopping at Vailima he used
+to have his bath daily on the verandah below his room. One lovely morning
+he got up very early, got into the bath, and splashed and sang, feeling
+very well and very happy, and at last beginning to sing very loudly, he
+forgot Mr. Stevenson altogether. All at once there was Stevenson himself,
+his hair all ruffled up, his eyes full of anger. &#8220;Man,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you and
+your infernal row have cost me more than two hundred pounds in ideas,&#8221; and
+with that he was gone, but he did not address the count again the whole of
+that day. Next morning he had forgotten the count&#8217;s offence and was just
+as friendly as ever, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>but&mdash;the noise was never repeated! Another of the
+count&#8217;s stories amused me much. &#8220;An English lord came all the way to Samoa
+in his yacht to see Mr. Stevenson, and found him in his cool Kimino
+sitting with the ladies and drinking tea on his verandah; the whole party
+had their feet bare. The English lord thought that he must have called at
+the wrong time, and offered to go away, but Mr. Stevenson called out to
+him, and brought him back, and made him stay to dinner. They all went away
+to dress, and the guest was left sitting alone in the verandah. Soon they
+came back, Mr. Osborne and Mr. Stevenson wearing the form of dress most
+usual in that hot climate, a white mess jacket, and white trousers, but
+their feet were still bare. The guest put up his eyeglass and stared for a
+bit, then he looked down upon his own beautifully shod feet and sighed.
+They all talked and laughed until the ladies came in, the ladies in silk
+dresses, befrilled with lace, but still with bare feet, and the guest took
+a covert look through his eyeglass and gasped, but when he noticed that
+there were gold bangles on Mrs. Strong&#8217;s ankles and rings upon her toes,
+he could bear no more and dropped his eyeglass on the ground of the
+verandah breaking it all to bits.&#8221; Such was my informant&#8217;s story, which I
+give for what it is worth.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img14.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">NATIVE FEAST AT VAILIMA</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>On our way back to the steamer we visited the lovely waterfall referred to
+in <i>Vailima Letters</i>, also the Girls&#8217; School for the daughters of Native
+Chiefs. The latter affords most interesting testimony to the value of
+mission work. The principal of the school&mdash;a German lady&mdash;told us that
+both Stevenson and his mother took the deepest interest in this school,
+and subscribed liberally towards its support.</p>
+
+<p>We had, I regret to say, very little time in Apia, and no time for
+Papasea, or The Sliding Rock, which lies some miles inland. The natives
+love to shoot this fall, and many of the white folk of both sexes follow
+their example.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning we were off again, steaming for the other side of the island,
+where we stayed two days shipping copra. Here I met many of Stevenson&#8217;s
+friends, and can recall a chat I had with the photographer to whom I am
+indebted for several of the photographs in this book. He was a thin spare
+man, about six-and-twenty years of age, and not so very unlike the
+pictures of Stevenson himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had but recently come to Samoa,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and was standing one day in
+my shop when Mr. Stevenson came in and spoke. &#8220;Mon,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I tak ye to
+be a Scotsman like mysel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img15.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">ONE OF THE FIVE RIVERS FROM WHICH VAILIMA TAKES ITS NAME</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>&#8220;I would I could have claimed a kinship,&#8221; deplored the photographer, &#8220;but
+alas! I am English to the back-bone, with never a drop of Scotch blood in
+my veins, and I told him this, regretting the absence of the blood tie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could have sworn your back was the back of a Scotchman,&#8221; was his
+comment, &#8220;but,&#8221; and he held out his hand, &#8220;you look sick, and there is a
+fellowship in sickness not to be denied.&#8221; I said I was not strong, and had
+come to the Island on account of my health. &#8220;Well then,&#8221; replied Mr.
+Stevenson, &#8220;it shall be my business to help you to get well; come to
+Vailima whenever you like, and if I am out, ask for refreshment, and wait
+until I come in, you will always find a welcome there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this point my informant turned away, and there was a break in his voice
+as he exclaimed, &#8220;Ah, the years go on, and I don&#8217;t miss him less, but
+more; next to my mother he was the best friend I ever had: a man with a
+heart of gold; his house was a second home to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You like his books, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; (this very dubiously), &#8220;I like them, but he was worth all his books
+put together. People who don&#8217;t know him, like him for his books. I like
+him for himself, and I often wish I liked his books better. It strikes me
+that we in the Colonies don&#8217;t think so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> much of them as you do in England,
+perhaps we are not educated up to his style.&#8221; And this is the class of
+comment I heard over and over again in the Colonies, from men who liked
+the man, but had no especial liking for his books. Is it that Robert Louis
+Stevenson appeals first and foremost to a cultured audience? Surely not.
+Putting the essays out of court, his books are one and all tales of
+adventure, stories of romance. The interest may be heightened by style&mdash;by
+the use of words that fit the subject, as a tailor-made gown fits its
+wearer&mdash;but the subject is never sacrificed to the style. It seems to me
+that one of my friends on the <i>Manipouri</i> (himself a great reader and no
+mean critic) came very near solving the problem when he said, &#8220;Frankly,
+much as I like the man, I don&#8217;t care one straw about his writings. I&#8217;ve
+got on board this boat <i>The Master of Ballantrae</i>, <i>The Black Arrow</i>,
+<i>Kidnapped</i>, and <i>The Ebb Tide</i>. They all read like so many boys&#8217; books,
+and when I became a man I put away childish things. I&#8217;ve plenty of
+adventure and excitement in my life, and I want a book that tells me about
+the home life in the old country, or else an historical novel. Give me
+Thomas Hardy, or Mrs. Humphry Ward, or Marion Crawford, or Antony Hope.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
+My bad taste, I daresay, but it is so, and I am not alone in my verdict,
+although I reckon the majority of the folk, this side of the world, would
+prefer Marie Corelli or Mrs. L. T. Meade.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img16.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">ANOTHER OF THE FIVE RIVERS</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>I cannot leave Samoa without saying a few words about the natives, in whom
+Tusitala took so deep an interest.</p>
+
+<p>As I write there rises before my mental vision a crowd of brown-skinned
+men, women, and children, their bodies glistening with coconut oil, and
+looking as sleek as a shoal of porpoises. Supple of limb, handsome of
+feature, the men are mostly possessed of reddish or yellow-tinted hair,
+which stands straight out from their heads in a stiff mop. The colour is
+due to the rubbing in of a much prized description of red clay, and the
+stiffness to their constant use of coral lime, for purposes of
+cleanliness.</p>
+
+<p>All the men wear the kilt of the South Seas, the <i>sulu</i>, <i>ridi</i>, or
+<i>lava-lava</i>, and as often as not a tunic besides. Nearly all the women are
+clothed in &#8220;pinafore&#8221; dresses, infinitely graceful and becoming. Men and
+women alike adorn themselves with flowers, wreaths of flowers in their
+hair, flowers interwoven in their <i>sulu&#8217;s</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> garlands of flowers around
+the neck, in addition to countless strings of shells and beads.</p>
+
+<p>That they loved Tusitala with a deep and lasting affection is undoubted,
+and if proof were needed this touching little story may be taken as but
+one of many evidences. Sosimo, one of his servants, went out of his way to
+do Tusitala an act of personal kindness. In expressing his gratitude
+Stevenson said, &#8220;Oh! Sosimo, great is the service.&#8221; &#8220;Nay, Tusitala,&#8221;
+replied the Samoan, &#8220;greater is the love.&#8221; The following is the Native
+Lament composed by one of the Chiefs at the time of Stevenson&#8217;s death. The
+translation is by Mr. Lloyd Osborne, Stevenson&#8217;s step-son and able
+collaborator. I was allowed to copy the poems from the little pamphlet
+kindly lent me by the Captain.<a name='fna_10' id='fna_10' href='#f_10'><small>[10]</small></a></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img17.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">DANCE OF SAMOAN NATIVES</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">NATIVE LAMENT FOR TUSITALA.</span></p>
+
+<p>Listen oh! this world as I tell of the disaster,<br />
+That befell in the late afternoon,<br />
+That broke like a wave of the sea,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>Suddenly and swiftly blinding our eyes.<br />
+Alas! for Lois who speaks, tears in his voice,<br />
+Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!<br />
+Alas! for Tusitala who rests in the forest.<br />
+<br />
+Aimlessly we wait and wonder, Will he come again?<br />
+Lament, oh Vailima, waiting and ever waiting;<br />
+Let us search and inquire of the Captains of Ships,<br />
+&#8220;Be not angry, but has not Tusitala come?&#8221;<br />
+Tuila, sorrowing one, come hither,<br />
+Prepare me a letter, I will carry it.<br />
+<br />
+Let her Majesty, Queen Victoria, be told,<br />
+That Tusitala, the loving one, has been taken home.<br />
+Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!<br />
+Alas! for Tusitala, who rests in the forest.<br />
+<br />
+Alas! my heart weeps with anxious pity,<br />
+As I think of the days before us,<br />
+Of the white men gathering for the Christmas assembly;<br />
+Alas! for Alola,<a name='fna_11' id='fna_11' href='#f_11'><small>[11]</small></a> left in her loneliness,<br />
+And the men of Vailima, who weep together,<br />
+Their leader being taken;<br />
+Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!<br />
+Alas! for Tusitala, who sleeps in the forest.<br />
+<br />
+Alas! oh, my heart, it weeps unceasingly,<br />
+When I think of his illness,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>Coming upon him with so fatal a swiftness,<br />
+Would that it had waited a word or a glance from him,<br />
+Or some token from us of our love.<br />
+Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!<br />
+Alas! for Tusitala who sleeps in the forest.<br />
+<br />
+Grieve oh, my heart! I cannot bear to look on,<br />
+At the chiefs who are assembling.<br />
+Alas! Tusitala, thou art not here;<br />
+I look hither and thither in vain for thee,<br />
+Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!<br />
+Alas! for Tusitala, he sleeps in the forest.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img18.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">FIJI</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<p class="center"><span class="large"><span class="smcap">The Aftermath</span></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">The</span> object of my journey was attained. Samoa, with its mist-swept
+mountains, its sun-lit waterfalls, its gleaming &#8220;etherial musky
+highlands,&#8221; lay behind me, dim as a dream, a pictured memory of the past;
+and yet I had not done with the Islands. At two, if not three, of the
+Fijian group, we were to ship copra and sugar; and report had said that
+the Fiji Islands were more lovely than the Samoan. So I add a valedictory
+chapter&mdash;an epilogue in fact&mdash;contenting myself with the very briefest of
+descriptions, trusting that my illustrations will supply the missing
+details.</p>
+
+<p>We were bound for Levuka, and we passed en route the small island of
+Apolima, for which Stevenson conceived so great an admiration, although I
+fancy he never landed there, but only saw it, as I did, from the deck of a
+steamer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> Basking in the golden radiance of the evening light, Apolima
+looked like the long-lost Island of Avilion,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Where falls nor rain, nor hail, nor any snow,<br />
+Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies<br />
+Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns,<br />
+And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the centre of the island is an extinct crater, and this crater is all
+one luxuriant tangle of dense bush. Here and there among the trees peeped
+out the brown huts of native Chiefs, for Apolima is a sacred island, and
+only the high Chiefs are privileged to dwell there. Next day we sighted
+Levuka, which looked more like a mountain range than an island.</p>
+
+<p>The coral barrier extends for a mile and a half beyond the shore of
+Levuka, the reef showing occasional openings, and within one of these
+openings was the harbour.</p>
+
+<p>These openings are like so many gates into fields of calm water, and fatal
+indeed would be any attempt to force a passage, for on the treacherous
+reef itself there is always to be seen the line of churned-up foam, and
+always to be heard, for miles away, the thunder of the surf. Here was the
+piteous spectacle of many a wreck, the bare ribs of death showing above
+the merciless coral.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>At Apia the harbour lights showed through the gaunt skeleton of the
+<i>Adler</i>, and just outside the roadstead of Levuka my attention was drawn
+to all that was left of an East Indiaman.</p>
+
+<p>If the coral could but speak what tales might it not tell of poor,
+drenched, fordone humanity, clutching with bleeding hands at what was so
+cruel and so inexorable&mdash;now sucked back by the indrawn breath of the
+waves, and now flung remorselessly forward on to the beautiful, bared
+teeth of the reef, until Death, more merciful than Life, put an end to
+their sufferings.</p>
+
+<p>As we passed the reef I noticed that the vivid blue <i>within</i> the natural
+harbour was separated from the &#8220;foamless, long-heaving, violet ocean&#8221;
+<i>without</i>, by a submarine rainbow.</p>
+
+<p>Every colour was here represented and every gradation of colour. It looked
+as if the sun were shining below the water through the medium of some
+hidden prism.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it always beautiful like this?&#8221; I asked one of my friends on board who
+had spent many years in these parts, and who with eyes intently gazing
+shoreward, stood beside me on the upper deck.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always,&#8221; was the prompt reply, &#8220;at least, I have never seen it otherwise.
+Looks like a necklace of opals, does it not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>&#8220;What causes the colour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have been waiting for that question, and it&#8217;s a difficult one to
+answer. I should say it was due to the difference of depth at which the
+patches of coral, seaweed, and white sand are to be found, and the effect
+of the sunshine on them through the clear, shallow, greenish water that
+covers the irregular surface of the reef. The shades of colour vary with
+the ebb and flow of the tide. I&#8217;ve seen it through a golden haze, and I&#8217;ve
+seen it through a violet haze, but always with these prismatic colours; it
+is at its very best at noontide. If you look over the side of the steamer
+you will see how the colours lie, not on the surface, but below the
+water&mdash;the deeper you can see, the more varied and intense the colour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On landing at Levuka it needed no one to tell us that desolation in the
+form of a hurricane had recently swept over the island. The ruined church
+confronted us, with ruined houses, and toppled over palms, the entire
+beach was strewn with broken shells, rainbow-coloured fragments of
+departed loveliness. We landed and took a nearer survey of the disaster.
+At the little noisy wharf crowds of natives pressed goods on us for sale,
+among them being lovely baskets of coral, conch shells, <i>sulu&#8217;s</i> and
+<i>tapa</i>. The Roman Catholic church had escaped, as by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> miracle, for all
+around it were fallen palms. We entered and admired the inlaid (native)
+wood-work, and the beautiful pink shell, on a carved wooden stand, that
+served as a font.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img19.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">FIJIAN BOAT</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>We left Levuka in the evening and reached Suva early next morning. I was
+awakened by the shrill trumpeting of conch shells, and hurrying on deck I
+saw alongside of us a boat full of natives, several of whom held conch
+shells to their mouths, and made a truly ear-piercing sound. I attempted
+to buy the largest of these shells, but its native owner refused to sell
+it.</p>
+
+<p>In some respects Suva was the most picturesque island that we visited. The
+outlines were more rugged and varied than those of Samoa, and the growth
+of bush was certainly more luxuriant. One curiously rounded mountain peak
+went by the name of The Devil&#8217;s Thumb. We landed at seven o&#8217;clock, in the
+cool of the morning, and the delicious fragrance of the air left an
+abiding impression. After some discussion as to the best manner of
+spending our last day ashore, we decided to hire a little steam launch and
+go up the River Rewa as far as the sugar factory and plantation. This we
+did, and saw amongst other novelties the scarlet and black land crabs that
+live in holes along the mud banks on either side, as well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> as the oysters
+clinging to the branching roots of the mangroves.</p>
+
+<p>The sugar plantation was very interesting, as we here saw the natives at
+work in the cane-fields, but the factory was hot, sticky, and heavy with
+the nauseating smell of brown sugar. We returned at seven o&#8217;clock, and
+after dinner made a tour of inspection in the town.</p>
+
+<p>Suva, being the capital of the Fiji Islands, is quite an imposing little
+place. There are no turf roads here but streets with shops and pavements,
+all well lighted, and gay with colour. We bought many curiosities and
+returned to the steamer laden with our treasures.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning we left for Sydney, and although we touched at several little
+atolls en route, we only landed at two of them, and then only for about an
+hour.</p>
+
+<p>So ended my tour. I set out on my pilgrimage with but one end in view,
+namely, <span class="smcaplc">THE GRAVE</span>. I returned with &#8220;rich eyes and poor hands.&#8221; I had
+attained, but my attainment was shadowed by regret, for I had left my
+heart behind me, &#8220;my soul&#8221; had gone &#8220;down with these moorings, whence no
+windlass might extract nor any diver fish it up.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Finis.</span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">Butler &amp; Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><strong>Footnotes:</strong></p>
+
+<p><a name='f_1' id='f_1' href='#fna_1'>[1]</a> I have described this island more particularly because it was the
+first I visited, and has ever since remained &#8220;a memory apart, virginal.&#8221;
+But looking back I realise that Nukualofa is by no means a beautiful type
+of coral island, since in common with all the Tongan group it is
+absolutely flat, and wholly lacks that diversity of outline (due to
+volcanic agency) which is the leading characteristic of the Samoan and
+Fijian groups.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_2' id='f_2' href='#fna_2'>[2]</a> His Majesty King George of Tonga being in residence, the villa palace
+was inaccessible to visitors.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_3' id='f_3' href='#fna_3'>[3]</a> More correctly mammy apples&mdash;the fruit of the &#8220;paw-paw&#8221; tree.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_4' id='f_4' href='#fna_4'>[4]</a> If the reader wishes to understand the political history of Samoa let
+him read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest Stevenson&#8217;s &#8220;<i>Footnote to
+History</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_5' id='f_5' href='#fna_5'>[5]</a> September, 1894, <i>Vailima Letters</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_6' id='f_6' href='#fna_6'>[6]</a> I am told this finger-post is now a thing of the past.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_7' id='f_7' href='#fna_7'>[7]</a> Since reading Mr. Balfour&#8217;s <i>Life of Stevenson</i>, I am led to infer
+these last were a sort of fresh-water prawns.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_8' id='f_8' href='#fna_8'>[8]</a> <i>Vailima Letters</i>, November, 1890.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_9' id='f_9' href='#fna_9'>[9]</a> I have since I wrote this been informed by a member of the family that
+although the hole existed it was not between the library and the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_10' id='f_10' href='#fna_10'>[10]</a> Written at the time of his death for distribution among his personal
+friends, etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name='f_11' id='f_11' href='#fna_11'>[11]</a> Alola&mdash;literally, the &#8220;loved one.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Stevenson's Shrine
+       The Record of a Pilgrimage
+
+Author: Laura Stubbs
+
+Release Date: July 17, 2011 [EBook #36763]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVENSON'S SHRINE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+STEVENSON'S SHRINE
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _The Grave._]
+
+
+
+
+  STEVENSON'S SHRINE
+
+  THE RECORD OF A PILGRIMAGE
+
+
+  By LAURA STUBBS
+
+
+  BOSTON
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  INCORPORATED
+  1903
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+                                                      PAGE
+
+  CHAPTER I.    The Voyage--Auckland to Tonga            5
+
+  CHAPTER II.    "     "    Vavau to Samoa              15
+
+  CHAPTER III.   "    "    Vailima and the SHRINE       26
+
+  CHAPTER IV.   The Aftermath--Fiji to Sydney           53
+
+
+
+
+List of Plates
+
+
+  THE GRAVE                                 _Frontispiece_
+
+  A CORAL GARDEN                         _To face page_  6
+
+  TONGA VILLAGE                                "         8
+
+  TRILITHON IN TONGA                           "        13
+
+  HARBOUR OF VAVAU                             "        15
+
+  KAVA-MAKING                                  "        18
+
+  TOWN OF APIA                                 "        23
+
+  "ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART"                   "        27
+
+  KAVA FEAST                                   "        29
+
+  THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA (FRONT VIEW)            "        31
+
+  THE HALL AT VAILIMA                          "        32
+
+  VIEW OF VAILIMA FROM THE GRAVE               "        39
+
+  THE STAIRCASE AT VAILIMA                     "        41
+
+  THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA (END VIEW)              "        42
+
+  NATIVE FEAST AT VAILIMA                      "        44
+
+  ONE OF THE FIVE RIVERS AT VAILIMA            "        46
+
+  ANOTHER OF THE FIVE RIVERS                   "        48
+
+  DANCE OF SAMOAN NATIVES                      "        50
+
+  VIEW IN FIJI                                 "        53
+
+  FIJIAN BOAT                                  "        56
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MAP OF A PORTION OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC SHOWING SAMOA AND
+SOCIETY ISLANDS]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+    "The first love, the first sunrise, the first South Sea Island, are
+    memories apart and touch a virginity of sense."
+
+    "My soul went down with these moorings whence no windlass may extract
+    nor any diver fish it up."
+
+    _Robert Louis Stevenson._
+
+
+I, a lover of the man, personally unknown to me, save through the potency
+of his pen, journeyed across the world in order to visit his grave, and to
+get into direct touch with his surroundings.
+
+The voyage to the Antipodes does not come within the compass of this
+little book; enough that in September, 1892, I left Auckland (New Zealand)
+in the Union Company's Steamship Manipouri, for a cruise among the South
+Sea Islands, and that our first port of call was Nukualofa, one of the
+Tongan group.
+
+Here I stood on a little grass-covered wharf, and, looking down through
+the translucent water, made my first acquaintance with a coral garden. Oh!
+that wonderful water world with its wealth of sprays, flowers, and
+madrepores, amongst which the tiny rainbow-coloured fishes darted in and
+out like submarine humming-birds--wingless, but brilliant--living flecks
+of colour, flashing through a fairy region. The unreality of the scene
+took hold of me. If this were real I must be enchanted, looking downwards
+with enchanted eyes.
+
+As one who dreams I walked inland, following a most fascinating green turf
+path soft as velvet to the tread. There are no roads in Nukualofa, green
+turf paths serve instead; indeed the whole of the little island, with its
+long stately avenues of coconut palms, its sheltering bowers of banyan
+trees, its groups of bananas, and groves of orange and other tropical
+trees too numerous and too varied to describe, seems one beautiful and
+universal park. Every few minutes I came across a vivid patch of scarlet,
+yellow, or white hibiscus; great trailing lengths of blue convolvulus,
+many tendrilled and giant blossomed, garlanded the trees, and not
+unfrequently flung an almost impenetrable barrier across the path. These
+paths are separated from the universal park by--a fencing of barbed
+wire! But the little tram line, which terminates at the wharf, was
+bordered with turf of a moss-like softness, and even between its rails the
+grass grew thickly.[1]
+
+
+[Illustration: A CORAL GARDEN
+
+_To face page 6_]]
+
+
+The whole island was encircled by a giant fringe of coral, white and
+glistening, at one side of which was a natural opening leading to the
+little harbour. The light at sunset upon this reef was like the refraction
+of some hidden prism, shimmering opalescent, a suffusion of vague and
+unspeakably lovely hues.
+
+After walking for some time I suddenly came within sight of a palm-fringed
+lagoon. Upon its unruffled blue surface two native girls were paddling a
+small canoe. Their attire was slight, and their polished skins, gleaming
+with coconut oil, shone like mahogany. They stared for a moment at the new
+arrival with all the _naivete_ of children, then with a rippling laugh
+they paddled to the bank and began to talk. As I listened to the unknown
+accents of their musical tongue I was filled with bitterness to think
+that though so near, we were nevertheless so far apart. A smile however is
+always current coin, and before we parted many a one had been exchanged.
+
+In slight relief, amid the brilliant-hued orange-trees, the tall
+feathery-topped coconut palms, the dark green spreading bread-fruit trees,
+and the broad-leaved _pandanus_ or screw-pines, the brown huts of the
+natives showed up at intervals. Flung down at random on the verdant
+carpet, which flourished up to their very doors, thatched with long
+screw-pine leaves and lashed together with coconut fibre, with never an
+angle between them, I have been assured, by more than one resident of
+authority, that they stand the brunt of a hurricane better than the best
+houses built by Europeans. Outside these huts, sitting or standing, or
+lounging about in indolent inaction, were native men, women, and
+children--dear little brown-skinned babies, innocent of any attire save
+their original "birthday suit," rolled and tumbled on the grass. As I
+passed on my way the women and girls nodded and smiled, and gave me their
+musical greeting of "Mehola lelai," and before I was out of sight called
+after me "Nofa, Nofa"--the native "Good-bye," which means literally "Stay,
+stay." And everywhere could be heard the tap tap of the kava stones, and
+the rhythmic beating out of the "tapa."
+
+
+[Illustration: TONGA VILLAGE, WITH ROUND HOUSES
+
+_To face page 8_]]
+
+
+This "Tapa" (or "Ngata") cloth is very pretty. It is made from the
+bleached and beaten out bark of a tree, and is decorated with rude designs
+which the natives trace with a piece of charred stick, and which represent
+squares, circles, angles, stars, even at times the outline of the flying
+fox. The colouring matter used to complete the patterns is of a black or
+brown tint, and is made from a decoction of bark; a piece of cloth, or
+hibiscus fibre is employed as a brush, and when the work is finished the
+effect is charming.
+
+I tasted a green coconut plucked direct from the palm by a native, who,
+bribed by a shilling, scaled the long, straight stem at my request. The
+milk contained in the shell (though perhaps a trifle sickly) was
+deliciously cool, and on a hot day most refreshing.
+
+The attire of the natives of the Tongan group is extremely picturesque and
+harmonises admirably with their surroundings. Holy Tonga and indeed all
+the islands of this group are subject to a curious law which enacts that
+all classes of natives, whether male or female, must wear an upper as well
+as a lower garment. Both men and women adorn themselves with flowers,
+garlands about their necks, wreaths of flowers in their hair. The air was
+heavy with the scent of orange blossom, cape jasmine, and frangipani.
+
+I sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and watched the little sheeny
+blue-tailed lizards flicker to and fro, and indeed it was delicious to
+feel no fear of poisonous reptiles, for in these delectable isles there
+are none, no snakes--save the beautiful and harmless water snakes--no
+scorpions, no centipedes, not even the death-dealing spider of New
+Zealand.
+
+Our steamer left Nukualofa that evening, and we took on board a number of
+natives bound for Samoa. The entire population of the island seemed to
+have gathered together in a picturesque group on the shore to bid them
+farewell; and this group formed a brilliant foreground to our parting view
+of Tonga, with its green esplanade, its villa palace, its church and its
+white Government Offices, the latter of which stood boldly out against the
+groves of bananas and long feathery vistas of coconut palms.[2]
+
+We steamed out of the harbour of Nukualofa by a different passage to that
+by which we had entered, and before we passed the reef we had to make our
+way through a perfect network of little islands, all alike, palm-fringed
+and scattered about at random like flowers in a meadow.
+
+Like beasts of prey the white waves leapt against the coral barrier, and
+to right and left of us for a brief space showed white gleams of reef, but
+a moment later we had left the treacherous surf behind us and were
+steaming across a deep purple fathomless ocean. As I stood on the deck
+still gazing shoreward, the foam of the waves became azure under my eyes,
+whilst delicately-coloured flying-fish, denizens of two elements, skimmed
+like gigantic sea-butterflies over the surface of the water, flitting to
+and fro in the uncontrolled enjoyment of life and motion.
+
+That night the native passengers, rolled up in Tapa, their heads resting
+on hollow wooden pillows, camped on deck; the scent of the coconut oil
+with which they anointed their sleek smooth bodies was quite overpowering,
+especially when blended with the fragrance of the cissies (or flower
+girdles) worn around their waists, and with that of the garlands of
+flowers and berries hung so lavishly about their necks.
+
+A tropic night, and the moon at the full! The pure white radiance threw
+everything into strong relief. The natives slept at intervals and danced
+at intervals, crooning a strange weird chant to the accompaniment of much
+beating of hands.
+
+By daylight next morning we anchored in the roadstead of Lefuka, the
+principal island in the Haapai group. A long low shore, a foreground of
+white sand, a fringe of coconut palms with thicker vegetation beyond,
+brown thatched roofs of native houses, and white ones of Europeans! Such
+was Pangai town as seen from the deck of our steamer. Seaward, on the
+other hand, there was the already familiar line of coral reef and a score
+of "Summer isles of Eden lying in dark purple spheres of sea."
+
+
+[Illustration: HAAMUNGA OR TRILITHON IN TONGA
+
+_To face page 13_]]
+
+
+The whole of our passengers, just six in number, landed for a tour of
+inspection. In front of nearly every native house, a horse was hobbled,
+but in spite of the abundance of green pasturage the unfortunate animals
+looked half starved, and their thin legs were so weak that I wondered how
+they could do any work at all. On quitting the town, however, we left the
+houses behind, and strolled away into the bush, where we again had only
+the green turf under our feet, and again saw round us an absolutely level
+country. Meanwhile, huge fronds of coconut palms did their best to shield
+us from the sun, and the broad leaves of the banana cast cool shadows
+across our path. Before we had gone far, the most wonderful lean, lank,
+long-legged, reddish-brown pigs went scudding across our track, and
+disappeared amongst the trees. They were the direct descendants, I was
+told, of the pigs left here by Captain Cook. It did not take us more
+than an hour to walk right across Lefuka, until we reached its eastern
+shore. The tide was dead low, and we could see the outlines of the dry
+coral reefs, which connect all these islands as with a chain. On the way,
+one of our party related how, not so long ago, the coast was bodily raised
+twenty feet higher by an earthquake, and how the earthquake was followed
+by a great tidal wave. A halt was called, and while we rested on the coral
+beach and ate our fill of "mummy" apples[3]--one of our company amused us
+with the account of a wonderful Haamunga or Trilithon in Tonga, which,
+alas, we had no chance of visiting. This Trilithon, which is about sixteen
+miles inland from Tongatabu, seems to afford evidence of the former
+existence, in Tonga, of an ancient civilisation, that of some bygone
+people who, in common with the Maories, were possessed of religious
+instincts far in advance of the conquering Polynesians, who succeeded
+them. It consists of two enormous upright blocks of stone with a massive
+slab on the top, the latter being curiously countersunk into the two
+uprights. The whole structure is strongly reminiscent of our cromlechs at
+Stonehenge and elsewhere, recalling the theory of a universal sun
+worship. We talked this subject out as we sat, under the shade of the
+palms, on the sun-warmed beach, then we returned to the landing stage by
+another route.
+
+On these low-lying islands the coconut palms thrive well and bear
+abundantly, for there is nothing to impede the passage of the strong salt
+breeze right across the level surface of the Haapaian group, and without
+this strong salt air the coconut cannot thrive.
+
+From Lefuka we steamed to Vavau, but as our arrival in Vavau marks the
+second stage in my pilgrimage, I will reserve it for a fresh chapter.
+Henceforth, we were to be confronted by an entirely new type of landscape;
+the reign of the level surface was ended.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: HARBOUR OF VAVAU
+
+_To face page 15_]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+  "The coral waxes, the palm grows, but man departs."
+                                    _From an old Tahitian proverb._
+
+
+We entered the land-locked harbour of Vavau in all the glory of a moon
+scarcely past the full. And what a contrast to the islands from which we
+had just parted! On every side of us towered mountains, broken, rugged,
+height upon height, peak above peak. In every crevice of the mountain the
+forest harboured, and everywhere flourished the feathery palm, that
+Giraffe of Vegetables, as Stevenson so humorously describes it, nestling,
+crowding, climbing to the summit.
+
+It was midnight before we anchored alongside the jetty. The morning light
+showed us all the varied beauty of the port of Neiaufu. In place of the
+level shores, rising only a few feet above high-water mark, bold and
+rugged headlands jutted seawards, and every islet in the Archipelago was
+clear and definite. Let Stevenson, however, here speak in person, for
+though he is not dealing with this particular island, yet his description
+might have been written for it. "The land heaved up in peaks and rising
+vales; it fell in cliffs and buttresses; its colour ran through fifty
+modulations in a scale of pearl, rose and olive; and it was crowned above
+by opalescent clouds. The suffusion of vague hues deceived the eye; the
+shadows of clouds were confounded with the articulations of the mountain,
+and the isle and its unsubstantial canopy rose and shimmered before us
+like a single mass."
+
+Wooded hills, which spring from the water's edge, surround what seems to
+be a beautiful lagoon, some four miles long and two wide. At the eastern
+end there is a very narrow boat-passage. Our entrance was effected by the
+western passage, which is also narrow but has deep water at the point. On
+either side were white signal beacons, such as I have seen at the mouth of
+the Brisbane. The great wharf to which we were moored was approached by a
+road of coral, white to the point of dazzlement in the tropic sunshine.
+The foreshore was being reclaimed by prison labour; the prisoners, men as
+well as women, looked sleek and well favoured, they chanted songs as they
+worked, and showed no signs about them whatever of ill-usage or
+over-strain.
+
+There is no beach at Vavau. On the sloping banks, which are green to the
+water's edge, thatched houses peep through the orange-trees; indeed the
+whole island seems one delightful orange grove, the sward was everywhere
+littered with the freshly fallen fruit, the air was fragrant with the
+subtle essence of blossom and fruit combined. With the exception of the
+coral road leading to the jetty, all the paths at Nieaufu (as at
+Nukualofa) are simply long stretches of green sward, overspread with
+orange-trees. We climbed a steep hill, and while we rested on the top,
+feasted our eyes upon a sight which was one to dream of. Everywhere little
+cone-shaped islands outlined with big-fronded palms, everywhere that
+wonderful violet sea, and between the golden gleam of the oranges we saw
+the deep blue of the sky. It was an ecstasy in colour, a vision rather
+than a prospect. From henceforth my standard of the beautiful was lifted
+to a higher plane, and the words "The eye hath not seen, neither hath it
+entered into the heart of man to conceive," had, for me, acquired a deeper
+and intenser significance.
+
+On the way back we encountered a French Catholic priest, and after a
+little chat the old man took us to his house and initiated us into the
+mysteries of Kava drinking. Stevenson tells us so much about Kava and Kava
+feasts, that I make no apology for describing the process. The priest's
+room was very plainly furnished, in the centre was the bowl carved out of
+a solid block of wood and standing on four legs. That it had been long in
+use was evident from the fine opalescent enamelling of the inside. Beside
+it were the Kava stones.
+
+Two native girls appeared bearing the Kava--the root of the _Piper
+Methysticum_, about which in its raw state there was nothing at all
+distinctive. Pieces of the Kava were torn, or bitten off, pounded between
+the two stones and cast into the bowl. Then while one of the girls brought
+water and poured it upon the pounded root, the other, with shapely brown
+arms bare to the shoulder, kneaded the mass, until the whole virtue of the
+Kava was expressed into the water.
+
+Not until the bowl was half full of a frothy, muddy mixture did the
+straining process begin. A lump of fibre, made from the bark of the yellow
+hibiscus, was cast into the Kava, and the girls with arms dipped in the
+mixture up to the elbow, proceeded to take up the liquor with this
+improvised sponge, wring it over the bowl till it was dry, and fill it
+again, repeating this process until the fibre had absorbed all the gritty
+particles.
+
+
+[Illustration: NATIVE GIRLS MAKING KAVA
+
+_To face page 18_]]
+
+
+The Kava was now ready for drinking, and with great ceremony one of the
+girls filled a half coconut shell with the liquor and handed it to one of
+our number, who, as the custom is, drained it without drawing a breath,
+and then sent the empty cup spinning like a tee-to-tum across the floor to
+the girls.
+
+My turn came soon and I never saw a more uninviting looking drink,
+nevertheless I boldly followed the example set me and emptied the shell.
+The bitter, hot, acrid taste seemed to me at first nauseating to the last
+degree--but after! To appreciate Kava you must estimate it from the
+standpoint of _After_. My mouth felt clean, cool, wholesome, and
+invigorated as it had never felt before, and never will again until by
+good chance I light upon another bowl of Kava.
+
+"Have you found it good?" inquired the old priest in French. My "Mais oui,
+Monsieur, apres," raised a general laugh. Nevertheless the opinion was
+unanimous that it is only in the "Apres" that you can enjoy Kava. To
+define a sensation is difficult, but most of us are familiar with the
+effect of the external application of menthol. Transfer that effect to an
+internal sensation (on a very hot day), and you will then know something
+of the delights of Kava drinking.
+
+That afternoon we hired a sailing-boat and paid a visit to a cave some
+four miles down the harbour. The entrance looked impossible for so large a
+boat as ours, but our native boatman hauled down the sail and assured us
+that it was all right. Like Brer Rabbit, we "lay low," and when we lifted
+ourselves up we were inside.
+
+Wonderful, dreamlike, unreal, impossible: that was the general verdict.
+Like giant icicles that had never felt the touch of frost the huge, green,
+semi-transparent and sharply pointed stalactites clustered about the
+entrance. From floor to vaulted roof rose buttressed columns dividing the
+cave into shadowy alcoves, and as for size--you could put the Blue Grotto
+at Capri into one of those alcoves. The lofty arched roof was fretted like
+that of a cathedral, but it was the light, not the vast outlines, that
+arrested me, and held me spellbound--the weird effect of the sunshine
+without reflected through the medium of this dim water world.
+
+I can describe what I saw, but I cannot hope to convey any idea of the
+sensation produced by the eye-witness. Gliding to and fro in sinuous coils
+were long striped water-snakes, blue and black, pink and black, green and
+black. Did Matthew Arnold dream of such a cavern when he wrote:
+
+  "When the sea snakes coil and turn,
+  Dry their mail, and bask in the brine"?
+
+Our boatman caught two of the sheeny, harmless creatures, and after
+hooding them we carried them back to the steamer, but pity proved stronger
+than the lust of possession and we gave them their liberty. I can see them
+now (as one after the other I threw them over the side) making directly
+for the cave. Did they reach it? Who shall say?
+
+Glued to the fretted roof were the nests of innumerable swallows, and in
+the dim innermost recesses queer bat-like creatures hung suspended by
+their claws. An eerie feeling possessed us, a sudden silence reigned, the
+impossible seemed possible here, the real unreal. One of our native
+boatmen struck the rock with the butt-end of an oar--it gave back a
+strange, reverberant, hollow sound, then from the darkness within came a
+weird, mocking echo.
+
+With the help of a rope, furnished by our helmsman, I climbed a sort of
+natural stairway, and crouching on an overhanging ledge, looked down. The
+peculiar malachite green of the water now seemed intensified a
+hundred-fold, and the boat, its occupants, even the coral garden below,
+became green under my eyes. The cave was as cold as winter inside, in
+spite of the tropical heat without--cold and yet airless, as if the spell
+of an enchantment held the place in thrall. One and all we were glad to
+back out of it, re-hoist the sail, and return to our floating home.
+
+Not far from this cave was a barren rock, standing out above the sea,
+stark and sheer, a veritable All-Alone-Stone, only that there was no Madam
+Gairfowl perched thereon. Below this rock is a submarine cavern, only to
+be reached by diving. Here, so the legend goes, an island chief once held
+a beautiful maiden in thrall, until he won her to his will. He had stolen
+her from her tribe and here he hid her. In this same cavern, too, in more
+recent years, a maiden of Vavau saved the life of her wounded lover by
+nursing him secretly during the course of a tribal feud. For the details
+of these pretty stories, however, I must refer my readers to Mariner's
+"Tonga." I was further told that the captain of a British man-of-war once
+had the hardihood to dive in search of the entrance of this cave, and that
+he found it to be all that it was described, but that in returning to the
+surface he grazed his back against the coral, and died a few days later of
+acute blood poisoning.
+
+
+[Illustration: TOWN OF APIA
+
+_To face page 23_]]
+
+
+At sunset we heaved the anchor and steamed for Apia. Our course was still
+in a north-easterly direction and so continued for three hundred and
+forty-five miles, when we attained the Samoan or Navigator group. This
+last name was given by their discoverer, Bougainville, who christened them
+thus out of compliment to the dexterity of the natives, whom he found
+sailing their canoes far out at sea.
+
+The group consists of ten inhabited islands, of which the principal are
+Savaai, Upolu, Tutuila, Manu'a Olosenga, Ofu, Manono, and Apolima.
+Upolu--Stevenson's Island--although not the largest, is by far the most
+important. It is forty miles long and ten broad. We passed along the
+eastern end, coasting along two lovely rocky islets covered with
+vegetation of the most varied green.
+
+The capital of Upoli is Apia, and this town gives its name to the bay.
+
+The Bay of Apia is crescent-shaped, having the point of Mulinuu for the
+western, and the point of Matatu for the eastern, tip of the horn.
+Although the coral reef stretches from tip to tip, there is, in the very
+middle, a natural gap in the submarine coral wall, deep enough and broad
+enough to give passage even to a man-of-war.
+
+We cast anchor at daylight, and as I looked over the side of the steamer
+a sense of familiarity pervaded the landscape, possibly to be accounted
+for by the fact that the slender, feathery palms had ceased to be
+distinctive features; not that palms were lacking, but that their long,
+straight stems were crowded out by a dense growth of other trees. In one
+of his letters Stevenson himself comments on this, and implies that this
+"home likeness" formed one of the attractions which drew him to Upolu.
+
+The little town of Apia nestles at the foot of a peaked and forest-clad
+mountain; indeed the whole of the shore, which is everywhere green and
+level, is overshadowed by inland mountain tops.
+
+At last I had attained the goal of my pilgrimage; at last I was within
+hail of that lonely plateau, where all that was mortal of Robert Louis
+Stevenson was laid to rest some eight years ago.
+
+I looked shoreward with eyes full of reverence and wonder. This island
+with its wooded peak was the "surfy palm-built bubble" of Gosse's
+wonderful poem. The rhythm of the words made music in my brain.
+
+  "Now the skies are pure above you, Tusitala,
+  Feathered trees bow down before you,
+  Perfumed winds from shining waters
+  Stir the sanguine-leaved hibiscus,
+  That your kingdom's dusk-eyed daughters
+  Weave about their shining tresses,
+  Dew-fed guavas drop their viscous
+  Honey at the sun's caresses,
+  Where eternal summer blesses
+  Your ethereal musky highlands."
+  "You are circled, as by magic,
+  In a surfy palm-built bubble, Tusitala.
+  Fate hath chosen, but the choice is
+  Half delectable, half tragic,
+  For we hear you speak like Moses,
+  And we greet you back enchanted,
+  But reply's no sooner granted
+  Than the rifted cloud-land closes."
+
+This poem, which forms the dedication to _Russet and Silver_, was received
+by Stevenson only a few days before his death. The fact that he had barely
+read it ere the "rifted cloud-land" did indeed close upon him imparts an
+almost prophetic significance to the last two lines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+  "Alas! for Tusitala he sleeps in the forest."
+                                    _Native Lament._
+
+
+Vailima is only about three miles from Apia, but the road ascends the
+whole way, and in this land "where it is always afternoon" one does not
+care for much exertion; so a carriage was engaged to drive us thither, and
+we had John Chinaman for coachman.
+
+That morning the captain and a fellow-passenger had urged us not to
+attempt the ascent of Mount Veea. "Go and see the house by all means, but
+the grave is impossible for ladies." "Only last trip," said the captain,
+"two of our passengers, both comparatively young men, got lost in the bush
+on Mount Veea, never found the grave at all, and returned to the
+_Manipouri_ dead beat, after keeping me waiting four hours. But I give you
+due warning, ladies, I shall not wait for you, don't think it for a
+moment. I shall just go off and leave you here." I can recall now the
+twinkle in his brown eyes as the captain spoke, a twinkle that gave the
+lie to his words. Nevertheless, in spite of all warnings, we, the only
+three ladies on board, adhered to our intention of making the ascent,
+though we promised to take a native guide to show us the way.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART
+
+_To face page 27_]]
+
+
+We drove up a long, winding hill, in a very dilapidated wagonette. I sat
+by the driver, and felt sorry for our pair of lean and scraggy horses as
+they toiled painfully upwards. The heat was stifling, and the still, tense
+air vibrated with every sound, like a tightly drawn string. At last we
+reached the Road of the Loving Heart. This road exists as a touching
+memorial to the high regard in which Tusitala--the story teller--was held
+by the natives. And here it may be well to add that the name of Tusitala
+was given to Stevenson, not because the Samoans knew or loved his books,
+but because it is their custom to define the individual either by his or
+her profession, by some trait or characteristic, or even by an article of
+attire. Hence when the chiefs inquired concerning this new arrival, "What
+does he do? How does he live?" they were told "He writes books; he tells
+stories"; and from that day onward he was "Tusitala, the Story Teller,"
+just as Mrs. Strong was (I believe) known as "The Flower-Giver" (I forget
+the native equivalent), because she was in the habit of giving flowers to
+her visitors.
+
+This information came from Captain Crawshaw, who was himself a personal
+friend of the late novelist, and showed me, by the way, quite a number of
+letters he had received from Stevenson himself. One of them interested me
+particularly, since in it Stevenson begged the captain to try and discover
+the whereabouts of a friend of his who had got into trouble. "Save him
+from his worst enemy--himself. Bring him to me. Spare no expense in the
+matter. I will be answerable." Such was the substance of this letter as
+far as I can recall it, and it ended in the following characteristic
+fashion:--"Signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of my Maker, and
+the ink-pot."
+
+  "ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON."
+
+But I am wandering into bye-ways, and I must hasten to return to Ala Loto
+Alofa (which is the Samoan equivalent for the name of the road referred
+to).[4] Without going into the political details the facts are, briefly,
+that Stevenson had been very good to the six imprisoned chiefs of
+Mataafa's following, and when their term of imprisonment expired, these
+men, out of gratitude, cut a road through the bush to Vailima.
+
+
+[Illustration: KAVA FEAST GIVEN TO THE CHIEFS ON COMPLETION OF THE ROAD OF
+THE LOVING HEART
+
+_To face page 29_]]
+
+
+This work was a labour of love, the men who engaged in it were mostly of a
+high class, and they would neither take wages nor any sort of payment in
+kind. How this pleased Stevenson may be gathered from the following:--"Now
+whether or not this impulse will last them through the road does not
+matter to me one hair. It is the fact that they have attempted it, that
+they have volunteered, and are now trying to execute, a thing that was
+never before heard of in Samoa. Think of it! It is road making, the most
+fruitful cause, after taxes, of all rebellion in Samoa, a thing to which
+they could not be wiled with money, nor driven by punishment. It does give
+me a sense of having done something in Samoa after all."[5]
+
+Stevenson had purposed putting up a notice of the new road, with its name
+in large letters with a few words of thanks for the chiefs, and a board
+was prepared for the purpose, painted and spaced for the lettering, when
+the chiefs arrived with their own inscription carefully written out. They
+begged so earnestly to have this printed instead that their wish was
+gratified. I was privileged to read the notice at the corner of the wide
+road leading to the gates of Vailima.[6] The inscription is in Samoan,
+but translated into English runs as follows: "The Road of the Loving
+Heart" (Ala Loto Alofa), "Remembering the great care of his Highness
+Tusitala, and his loving care when we were in prison and sore distressed,
+we have prepared him an enduring present, this road which we have dug to
+last for ever. It shall never be muddy, it shall endure, this road that we
+have dug."
+
+On arrival at the finger-post our Chinaman was fain to be rid of us, so he
+announced, with a grin on his yellow face, "Horsee too muchee tired,
+missie walk now, missie catchee Vailima chop-chop." We had, however, been
+forewarned what to expect by the captain, so I merely remarked, "Savey,
+John no catchee Vailima, no catchee pay." And John drove on!
+
+The Road of the Loving Heart, if very steep, has a fairly level surface.
+On either side are palms, bread fruit trees and bananas. Vailima
+(literally, "Five Rivers") is approached by a short drive, through a gate,
+into a lovely garden. Mrs. Strong tells me that the present owner has
+painted on that gate the words--"Villa Vailima." I am happy to say,
+however, that neither of us observed this atrocity.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HOUSE AT VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 31_]]
+
+
+The house itself is well designed and has a double verandah; it is built
+of wood throughout, and stands on very high ground. On the left hand, as
+we faced the house, was the smaller villa once occupied by Mrs. Strong. On
+the right, towering up into the blue dome above, was Mount Veea, and on
+the wooded height (far beyond ken)--THE GRAVE.
+
+Not a soul was visible, the place was bathed in sunshine and "steeped in
+silentness," not even a dog barked at our approach. The crotons,
+dracaenas, and other plants of brilliant foliage made patches of vivid
+colour on the well-kept lawns, and everywhere was the scent of orange
+blossom, gardenia, and frangipani.
+
+Under the shadow of the broad verandah the air was cool and pleasant, and
+we three lingered there awhile, as on the threshold of a temple. Before us
+was the really magnificent hall, some sixty feet long by forty wide, the
+door standing open, as in the days of Tusitala, but the dark panelling
+within was a thing of the past, and the walls were now painted a soft cool
+green.
+
+All his furniture was gone--we were prepared for that--but the window was
+there, the window below which he lay on the low settle and breathed his
+last. As I stood there the whole scene flashed across my mental vision,
+with its awful, and perhaps merciful, unexpectedness.
+
+He had recorded, often enough, his desire for such an end. "I wish to die
+in my boots, no more Land of Counterpane for me! If only I could secure a
+violent end, what a fine success! To be drowned, to be shot, to be thrown
+from a horse, aye, to be hanged, rather than pass again through that slow
+dissolution."
+
+No less has he left on record his attitude towards impending death. "By
+all means begin your folio, even if the doctor does not give you a year,
+even if he hesitates about a month, make one brave push and see what can
+be accomplished in a week. It is not only in finished undertakings that we
+ought to honour useful labour. A spirit goes out of the man who means
+execution which outlives the most untimely end."
+
+The hall of Vailima is (as Mr. Balfour tells us) quite the feature of the
+house. I have before referred to its size, it covers the whole area of the
+building. Facing us, as we entered, was the broad polished wooden
+staircase leading to the upper storey. We passed through the hall and out
+of a door on the other side of it; somewhere in the back premises we
+unearthed a Samoan woman, attired in very scanty raiment, busily engaged
+in peeling potatoes. To her we addressed ourselves, first in English and
+then in German, but it was all to no purpose. Next we resorted to
+signs. Pointing to the mountain top, I said, "Tusitala." The word acted as
+a talisman, the brown face wreathed itself in smiles, the dark eyes
+kindled into comprehension. Motioning to us to remain where we were, she
+disappeared, and soon returned with a small brown girl, whose only garment
+was a ragged blue pinafore sewn up at the back.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HALL OF VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 32_]]
+
+
+The little maiden (she might have been ten or eleven years of age) ran up
+to us quite gleefully, intimated by smiles and gestures that she was
+prepared to act as guide, and at once possessed herself of our heavy
+basket of fruit. We followed her through a little wicket gate which led
+into a lovely grove with oranges on one side and bananas on the other, the
+leaves of the latter being larger and more glossy than any I have seen
+before or since. The play of light and shadow here was something to dream
+of, and often we stood still too enraptured to pursue our way. Soon we
+crossed a little mountain stream, clear as crystal, with but a single
+plank for bridge, and lingered awhile to admire the cream-breasted
+kingfishers and the numerous little[7] crayfish disporting themselves in
+and above the water. In time we left the cultivated land behind and
+followed a slender path into the bush, where under foot was a dense
+growth of sensitive plant with delicately cut foliage and little fluffy
+pink ball-like blossoms. Our footsteps were marked by the quivering and
+shrinking of the shy, tremulous leaves, but as I looked back they once
+more stood bravely erect. This was the plant that baffled all poor
+Stevenson's efforts at eradication, living, thriving, ever renewing itself
+in spite of him.
+
+"A fool," says he, "brought it to this island in a pot, and used to
+lecture and sentimentalize over the tender thing. The tender thing has now
+taken charge of this island, and men fight it, with torn hands, for bread
+and life. A singular insidious thing, shrinking and biting like a weasel,
+clutching by its roots as a limpet clutches to a rock."[8]
+
+The trees here were simply magnificent, the fern life too was everywhere
+abundant, exquisite ferns, such as we grow in our hot-houses at home.
+Trees, ferns, creepers, flowers were tangled together in a vast net-work
+of luxuriant vegetation, each individual plant fighting for its very
+existence, contending for its due share of light, and air, and space. Here
+it was that Stevenson conceived his poem of "The Woodman"; every word of
+it came home to me with the inevitableness of absolute truth as we fought
+our way upward and onward.
+
+  "I saw the wood for what it was,
+  The lost and the victorious cause,
+  The deadly battle pitched in line,
+  Saw silent weapons cross and shine,
+  Silent defeat, silent assault,
+  A battle and a burial vault."
+
+Stevenson's attitude towards nature was a very remarkable one. Like
+Wordsworth, he endued her with a real, living personality, but unlike
+Wordsworth, he never seems to enter into a direct communion with her. She
+does not soothe him into "a wise passiveness," she rather inspires him
+with a strange, fierce energy. Take this passage, selected almost at
+random from one of his published letters to Sidney Colvin: "I wonder if
+any one ever had the same attitude to nature as I hold and have held for
+so long. This business (of weeding) fascinates me like a tune or a
+passion, yet all the while I thrill with a strong distaste. The horror of
+the thing, objective and subjective, is always present in my mind, the
+horror of creeping things, a superstitious horror of the void and the
+powers about me, the horror of my own devastation and continual murders.
+The life of the plants comes through my finger tips, their struggles go to
+my heart like supplications, I feel myself blood boltered--then I look
+back on my cleared grass, and count myself an ally in a fair quarrel, and
+make stout my heart."
+
+The living individual personality of nature is here as clearly recognised
+as Wordsworth himself recognised it, but the standpoint of regard is
+wholly different. Stevenson was aware of the spirit that clothed itself
+with the visible, but he was no dreamy lover enamoured of that spirit. He
+was rather (as he so often says) the ally in a fair quarrel, only desirous
+of bending Nature to his will, of pitting his strength against hers.
+
+But I am digressing, and the mountain top and the grave are before me, and
+I am in the forest on my way thither. Now and again a tiny bright-coloured
+bird would flash across the path, now and again a huge trail of giant
+convolvulus, blue as the sky, would bar our progress. Over an hour had
+elapsed before we gained the summit, and the latter half of the ascent was
+by far the most difficult.
+
+Small wonder that sixty natives were required to get the coffin up, and
+even so the question will always remain, How did they accomplish the feat?
+One may talk of the Road of the Loving Heart, but this was a veritable
+Via Dolorosa, a road of Sorrow and of Pity. The path zigzagged through
+the forest until it ended in a slender, fern-grown, almost imperceptible
+bush-track. More than once it led over the face of the solid rock, but
+branches of creepers, by which it was easy to swing oneself up, were
+abundant, though still the top appeared to recede, and to become more and
+more unattainable.
+
+The mosquitos made the lives of my two companions a burden; on all sides
+of us we heard their sinister aereal trumpeting, the heat was
+insupportable--stifling, the very air seemed stagnant and dead, but, quite
+unawares, we were gradually nearing our goal. Suddenly our little
+brown-skinned guide, who was travelling ever so far ahead, in spite of the
+burden of our heavy basket of fruit, flung herself down on a small plateau
+just above us, and we, toiling painfully after, knew we had attained.
+
+A minute later and we stood in reverent silence beside a massive
+sarcophagus, constructed of concrete and surrounded by a broad slab. Not
+an ideal structure by any manner of means, not even beautiful, and yet in
+its massive ruggedness it somehow suited the man and the place. The broad
+slab was strewn with faded wreaths and flowers, and on one side of the
+sarcophagus were inscribed Stevenson's name, with the date of his birth
+and death, also these eight lines, familiar to all who have read his
+poems:
+
+  "Under the wide and starry sky,
+  Dig the grave and let me lie,
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+  And I lay me down with a will.
+  This be the verse you grave for me,
+  Here he lies where he longed to be,
+  Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
+  And the hunter home from the hill."
+
+On the other side was an inscription in Samoan, which translated is
+"Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy
+people shall be my people and thy God my God; where thou diest I will die,
+and there will I be buried." On either side of this text was graven a
+thistle and a hibiscus flower.
+
+The chiefs have tabooed the use of firearms, or other weapons, on Mount
+Veea, in order that the birds may live there undisturbed and unafraid, and
+build their nests in the trees around Tusitala's grave.
+
+
+[Illustration: VIEW OF VAILIMA FROM STEVENSON'S GRAVE
+
+_To face page 39_]]
+
+
+We remained on the plateau for over an hour resting our weary limbs, and
+eating our lunch of fruit; and during that time we sat on the broad
+sun-warmed slab. A tiny lizard, with a golden head, a green body, and a
+blue tail, flickered to and fro. Overhead a huge flying fox, with
+outspread "batty wings" sailed majestically. We seemed alone in the world,
+we four human beings, and as we gazed about us we saw everywhere, far
+beneath us, the beautiful "sapphire-spangled marriage-ring of the land,"
+and down from us to the blueness, and beyond us, to an infinitude of
+distance, billow upon billow of wooded heights. Sitting there, on that
+green and level plateau on the summit of the mountain, my thoughts turned
+involuntarily to the last lofty resting-place of Browning's "Grammarian."
+
+  "Well, here's the platform, here's the proper place!
+      Hail to your purlieus,
+  All ye high flyers of the feathered race,
+      Swallows and curlews!"
+  "Here, here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form,
+      Lightnings are loosened,
+  Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm,
+      Peace let the dew send!"
+
+The wind sighed softly in the branches of the _Tavau_ trees, from out the
+green recesses of the _Toi_ came the plaintive coo of the wood-pigeon. In
+and out of the branches of the magnificent _Fau_ tree, which overhangs the
+grave, a kingfisher, sea-blue, iridescent, flitted to and fro, whilst a
+scarlet hibiscus, in full flower, showed up royally against the gray
+lichened cement. All around was light and life and colour, and I said to
+myself, "He is made one with nature"; he is now, body and soul and spirit,
+commingled with the loveliness around. He who longed in life to scale the
+height, he who attained his wish only in death, has become in himself a
+parable of fulfilment. No need now for that heart-sick cry:--
+
+  "Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
+  Say, could that lad be I."
+
+No need now for the despairing finality of:--
+
+  "I have trod the upward and the downward slopes,
+  I have endured and done in the days of yore,
+  I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope,
+  And I have lived, and loved, and closed the door."
+
+Death has set his seal of peace on the unequal conflict of mind and
+matter; the All-Mother has gathered him to herself.
+
+In years to come, when his grave is perchance forgotten, a rugged ruin,
+home of the lizard and the bat, Tusitala--the story teller--"the man with
+a heart of gold" (as I so often heard him designated in the Islands) will
+live, when it may be his tales have ceased to interest, in the tender
+remembrance of those whose lives he beautified, and whose hearts he warmed
+into gratitude.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE STAIRCASE, VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 41_]]
+
+
+So we left him, "still loftier than the world suspects, living and dying,"
+and once more, following the footsteps of our guide, we took up that ferny
+moss-grown track. It was scarcely less easy to scramble down the steep
+descent than it had been to toil upwards. But "time and the hour run
+through the roughest day," and we eventually arrived at the bottom, torn
+and scratched and not a little weary, but well content, only somewhat
+regretful that the visit to the grave was over and not still to come,
+comforting each other with the recollection that the house yet remained to
+be explored.
+
+Vailima is not much changed since the days when Robert Louis Stevenson
+lived there. Where the walls had been, in the late native war, riddled
+with shot, they had been renewed, but so exactly on the old lines that the
+change was scarcely perceptible. Although the house has been added to, and
+in my estimation considerably improved thereby, yet the old part remains
+intact.
+
+Herr Conrade, the manager for Herr Kunz, the present owner, was kind
+enough to show us everything, but naturally Stevenson's suite of rooms
+were the only ones that possessed any special interest. First his bedroom,
+then his library, and lastly his Temple of Peace, the innermost shrine
+where he wrote, and which, opening as it did on to the upper verandah,
+commanded a magnificent view of sea and mountain. From the verandah could
+be seen the gleam of the sunlight on the breaking surf around the far
+distant bay. On the left, fronting seaward, were the heights where he was
+laid to rest.
+
+Between two of the upper rooms (the bedroom and the library), there used
+to be a square hole, just large enough for a man to crawl through on hands
+and knees.[9] This was formerly the only entrance, but the present owner
+has had a door put up on which the outline of the hole is still indicated.
+
+With the exception of these rooms, Vailima might have belonged to any
+other European of wealth and taste.
+
+The question has been raised, Was Stevenson contented in Samoa? Did those
+three years bring him pleasure? May we not answer, Yes! and not only
+pleasure but profit. For the profit, note the books written during this
+period, _The Master of Ballantrae_, and the unfinished _Weir of
+Hermiston_!
+
+
+[Illustration: VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 42_]]
+
+
+For the pleasure he shall speak for himself, and mark the subtle
+distinction he draws between happiness and pleasure. "I was only happy
+once--that was at Hyeres, it came to an end from a variety of reasons,
+decline of health, change of place, increase of money, age with his
+stealing steps; since then, as before then, I know not what it means. But
+I know pleasure still, pleasure with a thousand faces and none perfect, a
+thousand tongues all broken, a thousand hands and all of them with
+scratching nails. High among these I place this delight of weeding out
+here, alone by the garrulous water, under the silence of the high wood,
+broken by incongruous sounds of birds."
+
+"Intense in all he did, Tusitala could do nothing by halves," said a man
+who knew him well. "Whether it was at clearing land or writing books he
+always worked at the top of his power, and enjoying as he did the life of
+the gay house party in the evening, he would rise at daylight to make up
+his loss of time." His was the old, old story of the sword that wore out
+the scabbard--flesh and spirit at issue, and the flesh so frail, so
+unequal to the conflict. There was an Austrian Count in Upolu whom the
+captain took us one day to see, and who, to use the colonial word,
+"batched" in a little bungalow in the midst of a huge coconut plantation.
+
+The bungalow contained but one room--the bedroom, and the broad encircling
+verandah served for sitting room. Here we sat and talked about Tusitala,
+and drank to his memory. The conversation turned on Vailima, and our host
+took us within and showed us the only two adornments that his room
+possessed. Over his camp bed hung a framed photograph bearing the
+inscription "My friend Tusitala," and fronting the bed was another of the
+house and Mount Veea.
+
+"So," he said, "I keep him there, for he was my saviour, and I wish 'good
+night' and 'good morning,' every day, both to himself and to his old
+home." The count then told us that when he was stopping at Vailima he used
+to have his bath daily on the verandah below his room. One lovely morning
+he got up very early, got into the bath, and splashed and sang, feeling
+very well and very happy, and at last beginning to sing very loudly, he
+forgot Mr. Stevenson altogether. All at once there was Stevenson himself,
+his hair all ruffled up, his eyes full of anger. "Man," he said, "you and
+your infernal row have cost me more than two hundred pounds in ideas," and
+with that he was gone, but he did not address the count again the whole of
+that day. Next morning he had forgotten the count's offence and was just
+as friendly as ever, but--the noise was never repeated! Another of the
+count's stories amused me much. "An English lord came all the way to Samoa
+in his yacht to see Mr. Stevenson, and found him in his cool Kimino
+sitting with the ladies and drinking tea on his verandah; the whole party
+had their feet bare. The English lord thought that he must have called at
+the wrong time, and offered to go away, but Mr. Stevenson called out to
+him, and brought him back, and made him stay to dinner. They all went away
+to dress, and the guest was left sitting alone in the verandah. Soon they
+came back, Mr. Osborne and Mr. Stevenson wearing the form of dress most
+usual in that hot climate, a white mess jacket, and white trousers, but
+their feet were still bare. The guest put up his eyeglass and stared for a
+bit, then he looked down upon his own beautifully shod feet and sighed.
+They all talked and laughed until the ladies came in, the ladies in silk
+dresses, befrilled with lace, but still with bare feet, and the guest took
+a covert look through his eyeglass and gasped, but when he noticed that
+there were gold bangles on Mrs. Strong's ankles and rings upon her toes,
+he could bear no more and dropped his eyeglass on the ground of the
+verandah breaking it all to bits." Such was my informant's story, which I
+give for what it is worth.
+
+
+[Illustration: NATIVE FEAST AT VAILIMA
+
+_To face page 44_]]
+
+
+On our way back to the steamer we visited the lovely waterfall referred to
+in _Vailima Letters_, also the Girls' School for the daughters of Native
+Chiefs. The latter affords most interesting testimony to the value of
+mission work. The principal of the school--a German lady--told us that
+both Stevenson and his mother took the deepest interest in this school,
+and subscribed liberally towards its support.
+
+We had, I regret to say, very little time in Apia, and no time for
+Papasea, or The Sliding Rock, which lies some miles inland. The natives
+love to shoot this fall, and many of the white folk of both sexes follow
+their example.
+
+Next morning we were off again, steaming for the other side of the island,
+where we stayed two days shipping copra. Here I met many of Stevenson's
+friends, and can recall a chat I had with the photographer to whom I am
+indebted for several of the photographs in this book. He was a thin spare
+man, about six-and-twenty years of age, and not so very unlike the
+pictures of Stevenson himself.
+
+"I had but recently come to Samoa," he said, "and was standing one day in
+my shop when Mr. Stevenson came in and spoke. "Mon," he said, "I tak ye to
+be a Scotsman like mysel."
+
+
+[Illustration: ONE OF THE FIVE RIVERS FROM WHICH VAILIMA TAKES ITS NAME
+
+_To face page 46_]]
+
+
+"I would I could have claimed a kinship," deplored the photographer, "but
+alas! I am English to the back-bone, with never a drop of Scotch blood in
+my veins, and I told him this, regretting the absence of the blood tie.
+
+"I could have sworn your back was the back of a Scotchman," was his
+comment, "but," and he held out his hand, "you look sick, and there is a
+fellowship in sickness not to be denied." I said I was not strong, and had
+come to the Island on account of my health. "Well then," replied Mr.
+Stevenson, "it shall be my business to help you to get well; come to
+Vailima whenever you like, and if I am out, ask for refreshment, and wait
+until I come in, you will always find a welcome there."
+
+At this point my informant turned away, and there was a break in his voice
+as he exclaimed, "Ah, the years go on, and I don't miss him less, but
+more; next to my mother he was the best friend I ever had: a man with a
+heart of gold; his house was a second home to me."
+
+"You like his books, of course."
+
+"Yes!" (this very dubiously), "I like them, but he was worth all his books
+put together. People who don't know him, like him for his books. I like
+him for himself, and I often wish I liked his books better. It strikes me
+that we in the Colonies don't think so much of them as you do in England,
+perhaps we are not educated up to his style." And this is the class of
+comment I heard over and over again in the Colonies, from men who liked
+the man, but had no especial liking for his books. Is it that Robert Louis
+Stevenson appeals first and foremost to a cultured audience? Surely not.
+Putting the essays out of court, his books are one and all tales of
+adventure, stories of romance. The interest may be heightened by style--by
+the use of words that fit the subject, as a tailor-made gown fits its
+wearer--but the subject is never sacrificed to the style. It seems to me
+that one of my friends on the _Manipouri_ (himself a great reader and no
+mean critic) came very near solving the problem when he said, "Frankly,
+much as I like the man, I don't care one straw about his writings. I've
+got on board this boat _The Master of Ballantrae_, _The Black Arrow_,
+_Kidnapped_, and _The Ebb Tide_. They all read like so many boys' books,
+and when I became a man I put away childish things. I've plenty of
+adventure and excitement in my life, and I want a book that tells me about
+the home life in the old country, or else an historical novel. Give me
+Thomas Hardy, or Mrs. Humphry Ward, or Marion Crawford, or Antony Hope.
+My bad taste, I daresay, but it is so, and I am not alone in my verdict,
+although I reckon the majority of the folk, this side of the world, would
+prefer Marie Corelli or Mrs. L. T. Meade."
+
+
+[Illustration: ANOTHER OF THE FIVE RIVERS
+
+_To face page 48_]]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I cannot leave Samoa without saying a few words about the natives, in whom
+Tusitala took so deep an interest.
+
+As I write there rises before my mental vision a crowd of brown-skinned
+men, women, and children, their bodies glistening with coconut oil, and
+looking as sleek as a shoal of porpoises. Supple of limb, handsome of
+feature, the men are mostly possessed of reddish or yellow-tinted hair,
+which stands straight out from their heads in a stiff mop. The colour is
+due to the rubbing in of a much prized description of red clay, and the
+stiffness to their constant use of coral lime, for purposes of
+cleanliness.
+
+All the men wear the kilt of the South Seas, the _sulu_, _ridi_, or
+_lava-lava_, and as often as not a tunic besides. Nearly all the women are
+clothed in "pinafore" dresses, infinitely graceful and becoming. Men and
+women alike adorn themselves with flowers, wreaths of flowers in their
+hair, flowers interwoven in their _sulu's_, garlands of flowers around
+the neck, in addition to countless strings of shells and beads.
+
+That they loved Tusitala with a deep and lasting affection is undoubted,
+and if proof were needed this touching little story may be taken as but
+one of many evidences. Sosimo, one of his servants, went out of his way to
+do Tusitala an act of personal kindness. In expressing his gratitude
+Stevenson said, "Oh! Sosimo, great is the service." "Nay, Tusitala,"
+replied the Samoan, "greater is the love." The following is the Native
+Lament composed by one of the Chiefs at the time of Stevenson's death. The
+translation is by Mr. Lloyd Osborne, Stevenson's step-son and able
+collaborator. I was allowed to copy the poems from the little pamphlet
+kindly lent me by the Captain.[10]
+
+
+[Illustration: DANCE OF SAMOAN NATIVES
+
+_To face page 50_]]
+
+
+NATIVE LAMENT FOR TUSITALA.
+
+  Listen oh! this world as I tell of the disaster,
+  That befell in the late afternoon,
+  That broke like a wave of the sea,
+  Suddenly and swiftly blinding our eyes.
+  Alas! for Lois who speaks, tears in his voice,
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala who rests in the forest.
+
+  Aimlessly we wait and wonder, Will he come again?
+  Lament, oh Vailima, waiting and ever waiting;
+  Let us search and inquire of the Captains of Ships,
+  "Be not angry, but has not Tusitala come?"
+  Tuila, sorrowing one, come hither,
+  Prepare me a letter, I will carry it.
+
+  Let her Majesty, Queen Victoria, be told,
+  That Tusitala, the loving one, has been taken home.
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala, who rests in the forest.
+
+  Alas! my heart weeps with anxious pity,
+  As I think of the days before us,
+  Of the white men gathering for the Christmas assembly;
+  Alas! for Alola,[11] left in her loneliness,
+  And the men of Vailima, who weep together,
+  Their leader being taken;
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala, who sleeps in the forest.
+
+  Alas! oh, my heart, it weeps unceasingly,
+  When I think of his illness,
+  Coming upon him with so fatal a swiftness,
+  Would that it had waited a word or a glance from him,
+  Or some token from us of our love.
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala who sleeps in the forest.
+
+  Grieve oh, my heart! I cannot bear to look on,
+  At the chiefs who are assembling.
+  Alas! Tusitala, thou art not here;
+  I look hither and thither in vain for thee,
+  Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!
+  Alas! for Tusitala, he sleeps in the forest.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: FIJI
+
+_To face page 53_]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE AFTERMATH
+
+
+The object of my journey was attained. Samoa, with its mist-swept
+mountains, its sun-lit waterfalls, its gleaming "etherial musky
+highlands," lay behind me, dim as a dream, a pictured memory of the past;
+and yet I had not done with the Islands. At two, if not three, of the
+Fijian group, we were to ship copra and sugar; and report had said that
+the Fiji Islands were more lovely than the Samoan. So I add a valedictory
+chapter--an epilogue in fact--contenting myself with the very briefest of
+descriptions, trusting that my illustrations will supply the missing
+details.
+
+We were bound for Levuka, and we passed en route the small island of
+Apolima, for which Stevenson conceived so great an admiration, although I
+fancy he never landed there, but only saw it, as I did, from the deck of a
+steamer. Basking in the golden radiance of the evening light, Apolima
+looked like the long-lost Island of Avilion,
+
+  "Where falls nor rain, nor hail, nor any snow,
+  Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies
+  Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns,
+  And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea."
+
+In the centre of the island is an extinct crater, and this crater is all
+one luxuriant tangle of dense bush. Here and there among the trees peeped
+out the brown huts of native Chiefs, for Apolima is a sacred island, and
+only the high Chiefs are privileged to dwell there. Next day we sighted
+Levuka, which looked more like a mountain range than an island.
+
+The coral barrier extends for a mile and a half beyond the shore of
+Levuka, the reef showing occasional openings, and within one of these
+openings was the harbour.
+
+These openings are like so many gates into fields of calm water, and fatal
+indeed would be any attempt to force a passage, for on the treacherous
+reef itself there is always to be seen the line of churned-up foam, and
+always to be heard, for miles away, the thunder of the surf. Here was the
+piteous spectacle of many a wreck, the bare ribs of death showing above
+the merciless coral.
+
+At Apia the harbour lights showed through the gaunt skeleton of the
+_Adler_, and just outside the roadstead of Levuka my attention was drawn
+to all that was left of an East Indiaman.
+
+If the coral could but speak what tales might it not tell of poor,
+drenched, fordone humanity, clutching with bleeding hands at what was so
+cruel and so inexorable--now sucked back by the indrawn breath of the
+waves, and now flung remorselessly forward on to the beautiful, bared
+teeth of the reef, until Death, more merciful than Life, put an end to
+their sufferings.
+
+As we passed the reef I noticed that the vivid blue _within_ the natural
+harbour was separated from the "foamless, long-heaving, violet ocean"
+_without_, by a submarine rainbow.
+
+Every colour was here represented and every gradation of colour. It looked
+as if the sun were shining below the water through the medium of some
+hidden prism.
+
+"Is it always beautiful like this?" I asked one of my friends on board who
+had spent many years in these parts, and who with eyes intently gazing
+shoreward, stood beside me on the upper deck.
+
+"Always," was the prompt reply, "at least, I have never seen it otherwise.
+Looks like a necklace of opals, does it not?"
+
+"What causes the colour?"
+
+"I have been waiting for that question, and it's a difficult one to
+answer. I should say it was due to the difference of depth at which the
+patches of coral, seaweed, and white sand are to be found, and the effect
+of the sunshine on them through the clear, shallow, greenish water that
+covers the irregular surface of the reef. The shades of colour vary with
+the ebb and flow of the tide. I've seen it through a golden haze, and I've
+seen it through a violet haze, but always with these prismatic colours; it
+is at its very best at noontide. If you look over the side of the steamer
+you will see how the colours lie, not on the surface, but below the
+water--the deeper you can see, the more varied and intense the colour."
+
+On landing at Levuka it needed no one to tell us that desolation in the
+form of a hurricane had recently swept over the island. The ruined church
+confronted us, with ruined houses, and toppled over palms, the entire
+beach was strewn with broken shells, rainbow-coloured fragments of
+departed loveliness. We landed and took a nearer survey of the disaster.
+At the little noisy wharf crowds of natives pressed goods on us for sale,
+among them being lovely baskets of coral, conch shells, _sulu's_ and
+_tapa_. The Roman Catholic church had escaped, as by a miracle, for all
+around it were fallen palms. We entered and admired the inlaid (native)
+wood-work, and the beautiful pink shell, on a carved wooden stand, that
+served as a font.
+
+
+[Illustration: FIJIAN BOAT
+
+_To face page 56_]]
+
+
+We left Levuka in the evening and reached Suva early next morning. I was
+awakened by the shrill trumpeting of conch shells, and hurrying on deck I
+saw alongside of us a boat full of natives, several of whom held conch
+shells to their mouths, and made a truly ear-piercing sound. I attempted
+to buy the largest of these shells, but its native owner refused to sell
+it.
+
+In some respects Suva was the most picturesque island that we visited. The
+outlines were more rugged and varied than those of Samoa, and the growth
+of bush was certainly more luxuriant. One curiously rounded mountain peak
+went by the name of The Devil's Thumb. We landed at seven o'clock, in the
+cool of the morning, and the delicious fragrance of the air left an
+abiding impression. After some discussion as to the best manner of
+spending our last day ashore, we decided to hire a little steam launch and
+go up the River Rewa as far as the sugar factory and plantation. This we
+did, and saw amongst other novelties the scarlet and black land crabs that
+live in holes along the mud banks on either side, as well as the oysters
+clinging to the branching roots of the mangroves.
+
+The sugar plantation was very interesting, as we here saw the natives at
+work in the cane-fields, but the factory was hot, sticky, and heavy with
+the nauseating smell of brown sugar. We returned at seven o'clock, and
+after dinner made a tour of inspection in the town.
+
+Suva, being the capital of the Fiji Islands, is quite an imposing little
+place. There are no turf roads here but streets with shops and pavements,
+all well lighted, and gay with colour. We bought many curiosities and
+returned to the steamer laden with our treasures.
+
+Next morning we left for Sydney, and although we touched at several little
+atolls en route, we only landed at two of them, and then only for about an
+hour.
+
+So ended my tour. I set out on my pilgrimage with but one end in view,
+namely, THE GRAVE. I returned with "rich eyes and poor hands." I had
+attained, but my attainment was shadowed by regret, for I had left my
+heart behind me, "my soul" had gone "down with these moorings, whence no
+windlass might extract nor any diver fish it up."
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] I have described this island more particularly because it was the
+first I visited, and has ever since remained "a memory apart, virginal."
+But looking back I realise that Nukualofa is by no means a beautiful type
+of coral island, since in common with all the Tongan group it is
+absolutely flat, and wholly lacks that diversity of outline (due to
+volcanic agency) which is the leading characteristic of the Samoan and
+Fijian groups.
+
+[2] His Majesty King George of Tonga being in residence, the villa palace
+was inaccessible to visitors.
+
+[3] More correctly mammy apples--the fruit of the "paw-paw" tree.
+
+[4] If the reader wishes to understand the political history of Samoa let
+him read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest Stevenson's "_Footnote to
+History_."
+
+[5] September, 1894, _Vailima Letters_.
+
+[6] I am told this finger-post is now a thing of the past.
+
+[7] Since reading Mr. Balfour's _Life of Stevenson_, I am led to infer
+these last were a sort of fresh-water prawns.
+
+[8] _Vailima Letters_, November, 1890.
+
+[9] I have since I wrote this been informed by a member of the family that
+although the hole existed it was not between the library and the bedroom.
+
+[10] Written at the time of his death for distribution among his personal
+friends, etc.
+
+[11] Alola--literally, the "loved one."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stevenson's Shrine, by Laura Stubbs
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