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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0419943 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66195 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66195) diff --git a/old/66195-0.txt b/old/66195-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7bb6bce..0000000 --- a/old/66195-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7159 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of South Sea Yarns, by Basil Thomson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: South Sea Yarns - -Author: Basil Thomson - -Release Date: August 31, 2021 [eBook #66195] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian - Libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTH SEA YARNS *** - - -SOUTH SEA YARNS - - -[Illustration: “_While the men were digging the oven and lining it._”] - - - - -SOUTH SEA YARNS - -BY -BASIL THOMSON - -_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_ - -WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS -EDINBURGH AND LONDON -MDCCCXCIV - -_All Rights reserved_ - - - - -TO -MY WIFE - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -In the great _bure_ of Raiyawa there was a story-telling. The -lying-places filled three sides of the house--mats spread upon grass -four feet wide,--and between each lying-place was a narrow strip of -bare earth sprinkled with wood-ashes, on which three logs, nose to -nose, were smouldering. A thin curl of blue smoke wreathed upwards -from each to the conical roof, where they met and filtered through -the blackened thatch; so that from outside the _bure_ looked like a -disembowelled haystack smouldering, ready to burst into flame. On -the fourth side was a low doorway, stopped with a thick fringe of -dried rushes, through which ever and anon a grey-headed elder burst -head-foremost, after coughing and spitting outside to announce his -arrival. Beside the doorway was a solitary couch, the seat of honour, -to which the foreigner, footsore and weary with his tramp across the -mountains, was directed, having in his turn dived trustingly through -the rushes like the rest. The couches were filling, and the elders were -settling down in twos to rest, slinging their legs over the fender-bar -that lay conveniently on its forked supports, and turning to the -grateful glow that part of his anatomy that man delights to roast--for -the night was falling, and a chilly mist was rising from the river. -Then one of them rose and made with his hand a tiny aperture in the -rush-screen, through which the dull twilight showed white. “Beat!” he -cried; and the rest beat the reed walls with their open palms, and -the house was filled with the angry hum of a myriad mosquitoes, that -flew into the smoke and out towards the king-post, and then, seeing -the twilight and the fresh air, sailed in a compact string through -the opening, so that in three minutes there was not one of them left. -Thereafter one might sleep in peace without slapping the back and the -bare thighs, for the rushes brushed them from the body of each incomer, -and their furious hum outside was impotent to hurt. - -At length every place was filled, and from the darkness Bongi began -and told of the mountain-paths--how the foreigner would rest before the -hill was climbed, gasping like a fish, and asked many foolish questions -of the old time and the present; and of the courts, how Bitukau had -had his hair cropped, having been taken in sin and judged; and of how -the foreigner had given him strange meats to eat that were enclosed in -iron, having first broken the iron and cooked the meats on a fire. - -“Yes,” said Bosoka, “such were the meats that a foreigner gave to the -men of Kualendraya, bidding them heat the meats on a fire and eat; -but when they did so, the meats blew up like a gun, and scalded them -grievously. Foreigners must be strong indeed to eat such meats.” - -“And the foreigner told me tales,” continued Bongi--“wonderful tales, -hard to believe: of stone houses larger than this whole village; of -strings going under the sea to other lands by which men talk, sending -no ship to bear the tale; of steamers that go on land faster than a -horse can run.” - -“Foreigners are great liars,” said old Natuyalewa, sententiously. “But -the land steamers may be true, for at Nansori it is said the sugar-cane -is carried by steamers on the land. Tomase, who worked there, told me -of this; and it may be true that they talk with strings, for a man may -make many signs by jerking a sinnet cord which another holds, pulling -harder at times and then softly. But the stone house--such tales as -these they tell to increase their honour in our eyes, but they are -lies, for there is no land so great as Great Viti.” - -Now the foreigner feigned sleep and listened. - -“Well,” cried Ngutu from the corner, “the teacher says that our fathers -lied about Rokola’s canoe--that the mast fell at Malake and dented the -mountains of Kauvandra. He says that a canoe cannot sail so far in a -day, even with the wind on the outrigger.” - -“The teachers are the foreigners’ mouths, and bark at all our ancient -customs, seeking to dishonour them,” growled Natuyalewa. “I am growing -old, and the land is changed. When I was young we listened to the words -of our elders, but now the young men----” - -“Ië! Tell us tales of the old time,” interrupted Bongi: “we will each -bring _nambu_: mine shall be the _sevu_ of my yams.” - -The elders grunted approval from the darkness. - -“My _nambu_ shall be fish.” “A bunch of white plantains.” “Mine shall -be prawns from the stream,” cried several. - -“I want no _nambu_,” replied Natuyalewa, with dignity; “the _nambu_ -should be given to those who tell tales for gain, seeking to entertain -the chiefs, that mats, and fine _masi_, and other property, may be -given to them. These will tell of gods and giants, and canoes greater -than these mountains, and of women fairer than the women of these days, -and of doings so strange that the jaws of the listener fall apart. -Such a one gains great honour, and the chiefs will promise him _nambu_ -before they even hear his tale, remembering the wonders of the last. -And he, being known for a teller of strange tales, must ever lie more -and more, lest, if he turn back to the truth, the chiefs hearing him -may say, ‘This fellow’s tales were once like running water, but now -they are like the village pool: why give him _nambu_?’ But I will ask -no _nambu_, for I can only tell of that I have seen with my own eyes or -heard with my ears; and though I tell you tales of the old time or of -distant lands, yet can I tell only of the doings of men and women like -to yourselves, who did deeds such as you yourselves do; and when all -is told, you will call the tale emptier than the shell of the Wa-Timo -fruit.” - -Then Natuyalewa began to tell of Rusa, the fisherman of Malomalo, and -the foreigner, himself a story-teller in Natuyalewa’s line of business, -thought ruefully of the wonder-mongers of his own land, and the _nambu_ -they won, and so pondering, fell asleep. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - PAGE -A COURT-DAY IN FIJI, 1 - -THE LAST OF THE CANNIBAL CHIEFS, 17 - -TAUYASA OF NASELAI, REFORMER, 37 - -A COOLIE PRINCESS, 47 - -LEONE OF NOTHO, 61 - -RALUVE, 68 - -THE RAIN-MAKERS, 111 - -MAKERETA, 125 - -ROMEO AND JULIET, 130 - -THE WOMAN FINAU, 142 - -IN THE OLD WHALING DAYS, 173 - -THE FIERY FURNACE, 195 - -FRIENDSHIP, 208 - -THE HERMIT OF BOOT ISLAND, 254 - -THE WARS OF THE FISHING-ROD, 261 - -THE FIRST COLONIST, 288 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - PAGE -“WHILE THE MEN WERE DIGGING THE OVEN AND LINING -IT,” _Frontispiece_ - -“ON THE NIGHT OF EACH RETURN FROM THE CAPITAL,” 38 - -“AND THEN RALUVE CAME IN, SHYLY FOLLOWED BY TWO -ATTENDANTS OF DISCREET AGE AND MATURE CHARMS,” 76 - -“THE CANOE WAS AFLOAT, AND LADEN WITH SUCH OF THE -LOW-BORNS’ HOUSEHOLD GODS AS THEIR ARISTOCRATIC -VISITORS THOUGHT WORTH TAKING AWAY,” 84 - -MAKERETA, 126 - -FRIAR LAURENCE’S HOUSE, 134 - -“NOTHING NOW REMAINS OF KOROLAMALAMA BUT THE NAME -AND A FEW MOUNDS,” 178 - -“WHEN THE WOOD WAS ALL OUT THERE REMAINED A CONICAL -PILE OF GLOWING STONES,” 202 - -LEVUKA, 248 - -“RASOLO, BEING SWIFTEST OF FOOT, REACHED THEM FIRST, -AND SLEW THEM WITH HIS THROWING-CLUB,” 268 - - - - -SOUTH SEA YARNS. - - - - -A COURT-DAY IN FIJI. - - -A bright sky vying with the sea for blueness, a sun whose rays are not -too hot to be cooled by the sea-breeze, the distant roar of the great -Pacific rollers as they break in foam on the coral-reef, the whisper -of the feathery palms as they wave their giant leaves above yonder -cluster of brown native huts,--all these form a picture whose poetry -is not easily reconciled with the stern prose of an English court of -law. It is perhaps as well that the legal forms we are accustomed to -have been modified to meet the wants of this remote province of the -Queen’s dominions, for the spot we are describing is accounted remote -even in remote Fiji, and the people are proportionately primitive. The -natives of Fiji are amenable to a criminal code known as the Native -Regulations. These are administered by two courts--the District Court, -which sits monthly and is presided over by a native magistrate; and -the Provincial Court, which assembles every three months before the -English and native magistrates sitting together. From the latter there -is no appeal except by petition to the governor, and it has now become -the resort of all Fijians who are in trouble or consider themselves -aggrieved. - -For several days witnesses and accused have been coming in from the -neighbouring islands, and last night the village-crier proclaimed the -share of the feast which each family was called upon to provide. The -women have been busy since daylight bringing in yams, plantains, and -taro from the plantations, while the men were digging the oven and -lining it with the stones that, when heated, will cook the pigs to a -turn. - -But already the height of the sun shows it to be past ten, and -the District Court has to inquire into several charges before the -Provincial Court can sit. The order is given to the native police -sergeant to beat the _lali_, and straightway two huge wooden drums boom -out their summons to whomsoever it may concern. As the drum-beats -become more agitated and pressing, a long file of aged natives, clad in -shirt and _sulu_ of more or less irreproachable white, is seen emerging -from the grove of cocoa-nut palms which conceal the village. We have -but just time to shake hands with our dusky colleague, a shrewd-looking -old man with grizzled hair and beard carefully trimmed for the -occasion, when the crowd begins to pour into the court-house. - -The gala dresses are not a little startling. Here is a dignified old -gentleman arrayed in a second-hand tunic of a marine, in much the same -plight as to buttons as its owner as to teeth; near him stands a fine -young village policeman, whose official gravity is not enhanced by the -swallow-tailed coat of a nigger minstrel; while the background is taken -up by a bevy of village maidens clad in gorgeous velvet pinafores, -who are giggling after the manner of their white sisters until they -are fixed by the stern grey eye of the chief policeman, which turns -their expression into one of that preternatural solemnity they wear -in church. The court-house, a native building carpeted with mats, is -now packed with natives, sitting cross-legged, only a small place -being reserved in front of the table for the accused and witnesses. -The magistrate takes his seat, and his scribe, sitting on the floor -at his side, prepares his writing materials to record the sentences. -The dignity with which the old gentleman adjusts his shirt-collar and -clears his throat is a little marred when he produces from his bosom -what should have been a pair of _pince-nez_, seeing that it was secured -by a string round his neck, but is in fact a Jew’s-harp. With the soft -notes of this instrument the man of law is wont to beguile the tedium -of a dull case. But although the spectacle of Lord Coleridge gravely -performing on the Jew’s-harp in court would at least excite surprise -in England, it provokes no smile here. The first case is called on. -Reiterated calls for Samuela and Timothe produce two meek-faced youths -of eighteen and nineteen, who, sitting tailor-fashion before the table, -are charged with fowl-stealing. They plead “Not guilty,” and the owner -of the fowls being sworn, deposes that, having been awakened at night -by the voice of a favourite hen in angry remonstrance, he ran out of -his house, and after a hot chase captured the accused red-handed in two -senses, for they were plucking his hen while still alive. Quite unmoved -by this tragic tale, Vatureba seems to listen only to the melancholy -notes of his Jew’s-harp; but the witness is a chief and a man of -influence withal, and a period of awed silence follows his accusation, -broken only by a subdued twanging from the bench. But Vatureba’s eyes -are bright and piercing, and they have been fixed for some minutes on -the wretched prisoners. He has not yet opened his lips during the case, -and as the Jew’s-harp is not capable of much expression, it is with -some interest we await the sentence. Suddenly the music ceases, the -instrument is withdrawn from the mouth, the oracle is about to speak. -Alas! he utters but two words, “_Vula tolu_” (three months), and there -peals out a malignantly triumphant strain from the Jew’s-harp. But the -prosecutor starts up with a protest. One of the accused is his nephew, -he explains, and he only wished a light sentence to be imposed. Three -months for one fowl is so severe; besides, if he has three months, he -must go to the central jail and not work out his sentence in his own -district. Again there is silence, and the Jew’s-harp has changed from -triumph into thoughtful melancholy. At length it is withdrawn, and the -oracle speaks again, “_Bogi tolu_” (three days). - -The prisoners are pounced upon and dragged out by the hungry police, -and after a few more cases the District Court is adjourned to make -way for the Provincial. The rural police--a fine body of men dressed -in uniform--take up positions at the court-house doors, and we take -our seats beside our sable colleague at the table. A number of men -of lighter colour and different appearance are brought in and placed -in a row before the table. These are the leading men of the island -of Nathula, who are charged with slandering their Buli (chief of -district). They have, in fact, been ruined by a defective knowledge -of arithmetic, as we learn from the story of the poor old Buli, whose -pathetic and careworn face shows that he at least has not seen the -humorous side of the situation. It appears that a sum of £70, due to -the natives as a refund on overpaid taxes, was given to the Buli for -distribution among the various heads of families. For this purpose he -summoned a meeting, and the amount in small silver was turned out on -the floor to be counted. Now as not a few Fijians are hazy as to how -many shillings go to the pound, it is not surprising that the fourteen -or fifteen people who counted the money made totals varying from £50 to -£100. They at once jumped to the conclusion that the Buli, who was by -this time so bored with the whole thing that he was quite willing to -forego his own share, had embezzled the money; but to make suspicion -certainty they started off in a canoe to the mainland to consult a -wizard. This oracle, being presented with a whale’s tooth, intimated -that if he heard the name of the defaulter who had embezzled the -money, his little finger, and perhaps other portions of his anatomy, -would tingle (_kida_). They accordingly went through the names of all -their fellow-villagers, naming the Buli last. On hearing this name the -oracle, whose little finger had hitherto remained normal, “regardless -of grammar, cried out, ‘That’s him!’” - -On their return to Nathula, they triumphantly quoted the oracle as -their authority for accusing their Buli of embezzlement. The poor old -gentleman, wounded in his tenderest feelings, had but one resort. He -knew _he_ hadn’t stolen the money, because the money hadn’t been stolen -at all, but then who would believe his word against that of a wizard? -and was not arithmetic itself a supernatural science? There was but -one way to re-establish his shattered reputation, and this he took. -His canoe was made ready, and he repaired to the mainland to consult -a rival oracle named _Na ivi_ (the ivi-tree). The little finger of -this seer was positive of the Buli’s innocence, so that, fortified by -the support of so weighty an authority, he no longer feared to meet -his enemies face to face, and even to prosecute them for slander. As -the Buli was undoubtedly innocent, and had certainly been slandered, -the delinquents are reminded that ever since the days of Delphi seers -and oracles have met with a very limited success, and are sentenced -to three months’ imprisonment. And now follows a real tragedy. The -consideration enjoyed by the young Fijian is in proportion to the -length and cut of his hair. Now these are evidently dandies to the -verge of foppishness. Two of them have hair frizzed out so as to make a -halo four inches deep round the face, and bleached by lime until it is -gradated from deep auburn to a golden yellow at the points. Pounced on -and dragged out of court by ruthless policemen, they are handed over to -the tender mercies of a pitiless barber, and in a few moments they are -as crestfallen and ridiculous as that cockatoo who was plucked by the -monkey. The self-assurance of a Fijian is as dependent on the length of -his hair as was the strength of Samson. - -But now there is a shrill call for Natombe, and a middle-aged man of -rather remarkable appearance is brought before the table. He is a -mountaineer, and is dressed in a rather dirty _sulu_ of blue calico, -secured round the waist by a few turns of native bark-cloth. He is -naked from the waist upward. The charge is practising witchcraft (_drau -ni kau_), a crime which is punishable with twelve months’ imprisonment -and forty lashes; for the Fijians are so persuaded that a bewitched -person will die, that it is only necessary to tell a person he is -bewitched to ensure his death within a few days from pure fright. -The son of the late Buli of Bemana comes forward to prosecute. The -substance of his evidence is as follows: Buli Bemana, who was quite -well on a certain Saturday, was taken ill on the Sunday, and expired -in great agony on the Monday morning. The portion of his people to -whom the accused belongs had complained more than once of the Buli’s -oppression, and desired his removal. It is the custom for a wizard -who has compassed the death of a man to appear at the funeral with -blackened face as a sign to his employers that he has earned his -reward and expects it. The accused attended Buli Bemana’s funeral -with blackened face. Moreover, an old woman of Bemana had dreamed -that she had seen Natombe bewitching the Buli, and the little fingers -of several Bemanas had itched unaccountably. These last the witness -considered were convincing proofs. The accused, in reply, stated that -he was excessively grieved at the Buli’s death, and that his face at -the funeral was no blacker than usual. Several witnesses followed, who -deposed that the accused is celebrated throughout the district for his -skill in witchcraft, and that he had boasted openly in days gone by -that he had caused the death of a man who died suddenly. - -Now, as stated above, the belief in witchcraft among Fijians is -so thorough, and the effects of a spell upon the imagination of a -bewitched person so fatal, that the English Government has found it -necessary to recognise the existence of the practice by law. It is, -however, none the less wise for the Government officials, without -pooh-poohing the existence of witchcraft, to attempt to discourage -the belief in its efficacy. Accordingly we call for evidence as to -the particular manner in which the alleged spell was cast. There was -no caldron nor blasted heath in this case; indeed the whole ceremony -was a decidedly tame affair. It was only necessary to procure some of -the Buli’s hair or the portions of his food left untasted, and bury -them with certain herbs enclosed in a bamboo, and death would ensue -in a few days. To our question whether the Buli himself thought he -was bewitched we receive a decided negative; indeed, we happen to know -that the poor old man died of acute dysentery, brought on by cold, and -that in this case, if witchcraft had been really practised, the death -was a most unfortunate coincidence. As no evidence more incriminating -than dreams and the finger-tingling is forthcoming, the accused is -acquitted, to be condemned by the other tribunal of public opinion, -which evidently runs high. When he has left the court we address the -chiefs of Bemana upon the subject of witchcraft generally, as if -seeking information. Upon this a number of white-haired old gentlemen, -whose boredom has been for some time exchanged for somnolence, wake -up and hold forth upon the relative value of hair and nail-parings as -instruments for casting spells. While the discussion becomes animated -and the consensus of opinion appears to be gathering in favour of -toe-nails, we electrify the assembly by suggesting an experiment. -They are to select two of their wisest wizards, we are to supply the -necessary means, and they are to forthwith cast their most potent spell -over us. On the result is to rest their future belief in witchcraft. -If we have not succumbed in a month’s time there is no truth in the -practice. If we do die, they may not only believe in it, but they will, -of course, be held guiltless of our death. A dead silence ensues. Then, -after much whispered conversation, an old man addresses the court, -pointing out that white men eat different food from Fijians, for do -they not live upon flour, tinned meat, rice, and other abominations? -And do they not despise the succulent yam, and turn up their noses at -pork, dried lizard, and tender snake? Therefore is it not obvious that -the powers of witchcraft will be lost upon such beings? Now we have -with us a Tongan servant, by name Lijiate (being the nearest Tongans -can get to Richard). This man, being half-educated, and above all a -Tongan, is full of contempt for Fijians and their barbarous customs. He -has long talked contemptuously of witchcraft, which he considers fit -only for the credence of heathens, not of good Christians like himself. -Here is a chance for Richard to distinguish himself and us. We make the -offer. Richard is to be bewitched on the same terms as ourselves. He at -least does eat yams and pork, and though he has not yet taken kindly -to snake, the difference is trifling. But we have counted without our -host. “_Fakamolemole_” (pardon), says Richard, “I almost believe in it -myself. I pray you have me excused.” This spikes our gun, for though, -doubtless, some of our Fijian servants would consent to be experimented -on, they would probably pine away and die from pure fright, and -re-establish the belief in witchcraft for ever. - -Our discomfiture is best covered by attention to business. Two more -cases of larceny are heard and disposed of, and now two ancient -dames, clad in borrowed plumes, consisting of calico petticoat and -pinafore, are led before the table. Grey-headed and toothless, dim -as to sight and shapeless as to features, they look singularly out -of place in a court of law. Time was (and not so very long ago) when -women so decrepit as these would have had to make way for a more -vigorous generation by the simple and expeditious means of being -buried alive, but now they no longer fear the consequences of their -eccentricities. One of these old women is the prosecutrix, and the -charge is assault. We ask which is the prosecutrix, and immediately -one holds out and brandishes a hand from which one of the fingers has -been almost severed by a bite. She has altogether the most lugubrious -expression that features such as hers can assume, but with the bitten -finger now permanently hung out like a signboard, words of complaint -are superfluous. The other has a truculent and forbidding expression. -She snaps out her answers as if she had bitten off the ends like the -prosecutrix’ finger, and shuts her mouth like a steel trap. The quarrel -which led to their appearance in court might have taken place in -Seven Dials. Defendant said something disparaging about prosecutrix’ -daughter. Prosecutrix retaliated by damaging references to defendant’s -son, and left the house hurriedly to enjoy the luxury of having had -last word. Defendant followed and searched the village for her, with -the avowed intention of skinning her alive. They met at last, and -having each called the other “a-roasted-corpse-fit-for-the-oven,” they -fell to with the result to the prosecutrix’ finger already described. -The mountain dialect used in evidence is almost unintelligible to us, -so that our admonition, couched in the Bauan, has to be translated -(with additions) by our native colleague. But our eloquence was all -wasted. Defendant utterly declines to express contrition. Our last -resource must be employed, and we inform her that if she does not -complete the task imposed on her as a fine she will be sent to Suva -jail, there to be confined with the Indian women. This awful threat -has its effect; and the dread powers of our court having thus been -vindicated, the crier proclaims its adjournment for three months. The -spectators troop out to spend the rest of the day in gossiping about -the delinquents and their cases. The men who have been sentenced -are already at work weeding round the court-house, subjects for the -breathless interest and pity of the bevy of girls who have just emerged -from court and are exchanging whispered comments upon the alteration -in a good-looking man when his hair is cut off. None are left in the -court-house but ourselves, the chiefs, and the older men. The table is -removed, and the room cleared of the paraphernalia of civilisation. -Enter two men bearing a large carved wooden bowl, a bucket of water, -and a root of _yangona_, which is presented to us ceremoniously, and -handed back to some young men at the bottom of the room to chew. -Meanwhile conversation becomes general, witchcraft is discussed in all -its branches, and compassion is expressed for the poor sceptical white -man; _sulukas_ (cigarettes rolled in banana leaves) are lighted; the -chewed masses of _yangona_ root are thrown into the bowl, mixed with -water, kneaded, strained, and handed to each person according to his -rank to drink; tongues are loosened, and it is time to draw the meeting -to a close. The sun is fast dipping into the western sea when the -last of our guests leave us, and we have a long moonlight ride before -us. There is but just time to pack up our traps and have a hasty meal -before we are left in darkness, but the moon will rise in an hour, so -we may start in safety in pursuit of the train of police and convicts -who are carrying the baggage. - - - - -THE LAST OF THE CANNIBAL CHIEFS. - - -When Swift wrote his “Modest Proposal,” and argued with logical -seriousness that the want and over-population in Ireland should be -remedied by the simple expedient of eating babies, the satire was -not likely to be lost upon a people who regarded cannibalism with -such horror and loathing as do the European nations. The horror must -of course be instinctive, because we find it existing in the lowest -grades of society; but the instinct is confined to civilised man. -The word cannibal is associated in our minds with scenes of the most -debased savagery that the imagination can picture; of men in habits -and appearance a little lower than the brute; of orgies the result of -the most degrading religious superstition. It is not until one has -lived on terms of friendship with cannibals that one realises that the -practice is not incompatible with an intelligence and moral qualities -which command respect. And after all, if one can for a moment lay aside -the instinctive horror which the idea calls up, and dispassionately -consider the nature of cannibalism, our repugnance to it seems less -logically grounded. It is true that it must generally entail murder, -but that is certainly not the reason for our loathing of it. It is -something deeper than this; and the distinction we draw between the -flesh of men and of animals is at first sight a little curious. -One can imagine the inhabitants of another planet, whose physical -necessities did not force them to eat flesh,--to take life in order to -live,--regarding us with much the same kind of abhorrence with which we -look on cannibals. Most of our natural instincts are based upon natural -laws, which, when broken, are sure to visit the breaker with their -penalties. The eating of unripe fruit, of putrid meat, or poisonous -matter, are some of these. But no penalty in the shape of disease seems -to be attached to cannibalism. - -What, then, are the motives that lead men, apart from the pressure -of famine, to practise cannibalism? Among certain African tribes, -and lately in Hayti, it has been the outcome of a debased religious -superstition, or that extraordinary instinct common to all races -which leads men to connect the highest religious enthusiasm with the -most horrible orgies that their diseased imagination can conceive. The -feeling that leads members of sects to bind themselves together by the -celebration of some unspeakable rite perhaps led to the accusations -laid against the Christians of the second century and the Hungarian -Jews of the nineteenth. But in the South Seas, although the motive has -been falsely attributed to a craving for animal food, it was generally -the last act of triumph over a fallen enemy. Thus Homer makes Achilles, -triumphing over the dying Hector, wish he could make mince-meat of his -body and devour it. Triumph could go no further than to slay and then -to assimilate the body of your foe; and the belief that, by thus making -him a part of you, you acquired his courage in battle, is said to have -led a chief of old Fiji to actually consume himself the entire body of -the man he had killed, by daily roasting what remained of it to prevent -decomposition. - -This is not a very promising introduction to a paper intended to -show that some cannibals at least may be very respectable members of -society. But it must be clearly understood that the eccentricity which -seems so revolting to us is not incompatible with a strong sense of -duty, great kindness of heart, and warm domestic affection. - -Out of the many cannibals and ex-cannibals I have known, I will choose -the most striking figure as the subject of this sketch. I first met -the Buli of Nandrau in the autumn of 1886, when I took over the -Resident Commissionership of part of the mountain district of Fiji. -His history had been an eventful one, and while he had displayed those -qualities that would most win the admiration of Fijians, to us he -could not be otherwise than a remarkable character. Far away, in the -wild and rugged country in which the great rivers Rewa and Singatoka -take their rise, he was born to be chief of a fierce and aggressive -tribe of mountaineers. Constantly engaged in petty intertribal wars, -while still a young man he had led them from victory to victory, until -they had fought their way into perhaps the most picturesque valley in -all picturesque Fiji. Here, perched above the rushing Singatoka, and -overshadowed by two tremendous precipices which allowed the sun to -shine upon them for barely three hours a-day, they built their village, -and here they became a name and a terror to all the surrounding -tribes. A few miles lower down the river stood the almost impregnable -rock-fortress of the Vatusila tribe, and these became the stanch allies -of Nandrau. Together they broke up the powerful Noikoro, exacted -tribute from them, and made the river theirs as far as Korolevu; -together they blotted out the Naloto, who held the passes to the -northern coast, killing in one day more than four hundred of them, and -driving the remnant as outcasts into the plain. Long after the white -men had made their influence felt throughout Fiji,--long after the -chief of Bau was courted as King of Fiji,--these two tribes, secure -in their mountain fastnesses, lived their own life, and none, whether -Fijian or white man, dared pass over their borders. - -But their time was come. The despised white man, whom they had first -known in the humble guise of a shipwrecked sailor or an escaped -convict, was soon to overrun the whole Pacific, and before him the -most dreaded of the Fijian gods and chiefs, the most honoured of their -traditions, were to pass away and be forgotten. - -In the year 1867 a Wesleyan missionary named Baker, against the advice -of all the most experienced of the European settlers and the native -chiefs, announced his intention of exploring the mountain districts -alone. He said that he would take the Bible through Vitilevu. What -good to the missionary cause he hoped for from his hazardous journey -it is difficult to imagine. The harm that would certainly result to -his fellow-missionaries if he were killed, and the loss of life that -must ensue, must have been apparent to him and to every one else. But -in spite of every warning, he persisted in his foolhardy enterprise, -and he paid for it with his life and with the lives of several hundred -others. He ascended the river Rewa with a small party of native -teachers, but when he passed into the mountain district a whale’s tooth -followed him: for the power of the whale’s tooth is this--that he who -accepts it cannot refuse the request it carries with it, whether it -be for a mere gift, or for an alliance, or for a human life. So he -went on, while tribe after tribe refused to accept the fatal piece of -ivory; but none the less surely did it follow him. At length one night, -while he slept in a village of the Vatusila, the whale’s tooth passed -on before him to the rock fortress of Nambutautau, and their chief, -Nawawambalavu, took it. When, next morning, Baker resumed his march, -this chief met him in the road, and together they crossed the Singatoka -river. As they climbed the steep cliff which leads to Nambutautau, it -is recorded in a popular song of that time that the chief warned him -ironically of his impending fate. “We want none of your Christianity, -Mr Baker. I think that to-day you and I shall be clubbed.” Suddenly, -at a spot where the path lies between high reeds, on the edge of a -precipice, an attack was made upon them, and they were all struck down -except two native teachers who crawled into the thickest of the reeds -and made their way, the one to Rewa and the other to Bau, hiding during -the day-time and travelling under cover of the darkness. Baker’s body -was flung over the precipice, and the great wooden drum boomed out -its death-beat to the villages far down the valley. That night the -stone-ovens were heated for their work, and the feast was portioned out -to the various allies. But the most honourable portion--the head--was -sent to Nandrau, the subject of my sketch. At first he refused it, -disapproving of the murder, which his foresight warned him would bring -trouble upon them. But as his refusal threatened to sever the alliance, -he afterwards accepted it. It is recorded that the feet, from which the -long boots had not been removed, were sent to Mongondro, whose chief, a -melancholy, gentle-mannered old man, was much disappointed at finding -the skin of white men so tough. - -After terrible hardship and danger, the wounded teacher made his way to -the coast, and carried the news to Bau. A strong alliance was at once -formed among the coast tribes to avenge the murder, and to crush the -power of the mountaineers. There is in this part of Fiji no gradation -between the plains that fringe the coast and the mountains. A sheer -barrier of rock, looking like the ruins of a gigantic fortification, -rises boldly from the plain, broken only by the valleys which form the -river-beds. Behind this wall lay a land of mystery, whose inhabitants -were invested with superstitious terrors, to which their ferocity and -the extraordinary appearance of their huge mops of hair had doubtless -contributed. - -The attacking party was divided into three forces. One of them was to -advance up the Singatoka from the south, a second to enter the “Devil” -country by way of the Rewa from the east, and the third, commanded -by the King of Fiji in person, was to surprise the valley of Nandrau -from the northern coast. With the two first we have nothing to do, -because they were defeated by the intervening tribes and turned back -long before they reached their destination. The third, hoping to form -a junction with their allies, advanced boldly through the mountain -passes. The country seemed deserted. They burned two or three abandoned -villages, and emboldened by their success, they pressed on, more -like an eager rabble than a military force, each man hoping to be -the first to secure plunder. As they straggled over the grassy hills -that surround Nandrau, suddenly from every clump of reeds big-headed -warriors sprang up; they found themselves hemmed in, and Nandrau, -headed by their chief, spent the day in slaughtering the flower of -the Bau army. A remnant fled to the coast, hotly pursued by the -mountaineers; and so crushing was the defeat that the king, Thakombau, -narrowly escaped death at the hands of his vassals of Tavua. - -Not long after this victory, which had so firmly established his -prestige in the mountains, Buli Nandrau seems to have become favourably -inclined towards the Europeans; and when a joint expedition of whites -and natives was despatched to reduce Nambutautau, he seems to have -been permitted to remain neutral. Nambutautau was burnt, and the -Vatusila and Noikoro tribes compelled to sue for peace. In 1874 Buli -Nandrau met Consul Layard, and promised his allegiance to the British -Government. Teachers were allowed to enter the principal mountain -villages, and until the year 1875 the mountaineers became nominal -Christians. In that year an event occurred which severely tried the -firmness and good sense of Buli Nandrau. The islands had been annexed -to Great Britain, and the mountain chiefs were invited to meet the -first Governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, at Navola on the southern coast. -Some of them accepted the invitation, among whom was Buli Nandrau, who -was anxious to judge for himself what the new order of things really -was. He frankly gave his allegiance to the Government, and in spite -of the strongest temptation he never wavered afterwards. For in the -same year a terrible epidemic of measles, introduced accidentally from -Sydney, carried off 40,000--nearly one-third of the whole population -of the islands. It was natural that the mountaineers, perishing under -this relentless and unknown disease, should have regarded it as the -vengeance of the gods they had so lately deserted. If Christianity were -a good thing, they said, why could it not save their children from -death? - -And so, early in 1875, most of the mountain tribes threw off the _sulu_ -(the Christian dress), and returned to the worship of their heathen -gods. Only Buli Nandrau, seeing what the end must be, remained stanch, -and by forming a barrier between the revolted tribes and those still -wavering in their loyalty, prevented the disaffection from spreading. -An expedition was despatched under Captain, now Major, Knollys, and, -with the assistance of the native allies, soon reduced the rebels to -submission. They all nominally again embraced Christianity, and an -entrenched camp, garrisoned by an armed native force, and commanded by -a Resident Commissioner, was established to ensure the future peace of -the district. - -Protected by their isolation from the vices of civilisation, and -enjoying a large share of self-government, these reformed cannibals are -to-day the most contented and prosperous of all the Queen’s subjects -in Fiji; and if ever it has been necessary to adopt measures for their -good which they could not understand at the time, the Commissioner has -been always sure of the support and influence of Buli Nandrau. - -I first saw him at the Provincial Council at Navola in 1886. He had -no sooner arrived with his retinue than he sent his _mata_ (herald) to -announce him, and in a few minutes entered my house alone. He was a -very tall, erect old man of about sixty-five or seventy--grey-haired, -keen-eyed, and intelligent-looking. After the usual ceremonies -inseparable from Fijian etiquette, he sat down and spoke of the -politics of the district. It appeared to me remarkable that a man who -had only left his native mountains two or three times, to take part -in the great Council of Chiefs, should be so well acquainted with the -history and political situation of the coast tribes of Fiji. He spoke -with great affection of Sir Arthur Gordon and of the ex-Commissioner, -and bewailed the death of the great mountain chiefs whose places were -now inadequately filled by their sons. - -He was never absent from his place for a moment during the three days -the council lasted, and his interest in the trivial affairs of other -districts never flagged. It was curious to observe the great deference -paid to his opinion by the other chiefs. When one of them, Buli Naloto, -was found to have failed in his duties, Nandrau was appointed to -reprove and caution him. His speech, which was short and to the point, -was a model of that kind of eloquence. “Art thou,” he said, “a chief -in thine own right, to make war and to make peace as it pleases thee? -Where was thy tribe before the Government came? A scattered remnant, -seeking refuge on the plains from the vengeance of Nandrau! But the -Government has taken pity on thee, and the land is at peace. Why art -thou then disobedient to the Government, who has made thee a chief, -and re-established thee in the lands of thy fathers?” This reproof was -received by Buli Naloto with the most abject humility. - -Not long after this, Buli Nandrau consulted me about the projected -marriage of his daughter with the provincial scribe, who lived with me. -He wished, he said, to cement by this marriage the ancient ties between -Nandrau and Noikoro, but the day had passed for marrying girls against -their will. His elder daughter had been a great grief to him. She had -been so married, and had not long ago put an end to her life. Did I, -he asked, from what I knew of Durutalo, think that Janeti would be -happy with him?[1] This was not the only example I had of his strong -domestic affection. - -In the spring of the following year he wrote to me, asking for medicine -to relieve a pain in his jaw, and from this time he was unable to -leave his village. At length, one day early in July 1887, I received a -pathetic letter from him, asking me to lose no time in coming to him. -“I am very ill,” he wrote, “and I would have you see my face before I -die.” - -As the messenger, when questioned, made light of his illness, and I was -myself not well enough to undertake so tiring a journey, I determined -to wait until I was sure that his urgency was not merely the result of -low spirits. But late on the following Sunday night I was awakened by -the challenge of the sentry, and immediately afterwards the deep cry -of respect, known as the _tama_, sounded outside my sleeping-house. -Lights were brought, and on the doorstep crouched a man, muddy, -travel-stained, and exhausted by a long journey. I recognised him as -a native of Nandrau, who was selected for his fleetness as district -messenger, and when I saw that his hair and beard were cut short, I -knew the nature of his errand. - -“The chief is dead,” he said; “and he told Tione not to bury him till -you, sir, had seen his face. Tione sends you this message.” - -There was another reason that required my presence at Nandrau: Tione -was not the only claimant to the succession, and I must be there to -prevent a disturbance. The messenger would not even wait for food, but -returned at once to announce my coming. - -In a moment the camp was all awake, and the men turned out to prepare -for the journey. The horses were brought in and saddled, and the -baggage rolled up in parcels to be carried over the mountain roads. -Before daybreak we were fording the river with an escort of some -thirty armed constabulary and baggage-carriers. The road lay for some -miles along the crest of a forest-clad ridge more than three thousand -feet above the sea-level, and when it emerged near the old site of -Nambutautau into open country, nothing could exceed the grandeur of the -scenery. Two thousand feet below us on the right rushed the Singatoka, -foaming among great boulders of rock, and still towering above us was -the great wooded range that formed the watershed of the island; while -far away before us rose the mountain-wall which separated Tholo from -the plains, seeming with its bare masses of castellated rock like a -great ruined fortification. And now the road began to descend, and -following a precipitous path, which momentarily endangered the legs -of our horses, we plunged into the cool shadow of the precipices -that overhung Nandrau. At a turn in the road we saw below us the now -historical village, jutting out over the river upon a broad ledge of -rock. The _rara_, or village square, was crowded with people, and I -noticed a train of women descending the sheer face of the opposite -cliff, with loaded baskets on their backs, holding on to stout vines -to steady themselves. Here we halted to give time to a messenger to -announce our arrival, according to native custom. We watched him -enter the village, and saw the people vanish as if by magic into the -houses, or sit in groups at the foot of the cocoa-nut palms, and then, -in perfect silence, we passed through the village. At the fence that -separated the dead chief’s enclosure from the square we dismounted, and -were conducted by his eldest son, Tione, to the clean matted house in -which we were to lodge. - -All through the night there was an incongruous mixture of the sounds -of merriment and sorrow. On the river-bank behind our house the five -widows of the dead chief, with their women, howled and wailed till -morning, like animals in pain. Sometimes the wails would die away into -faint moans, and then a wild shriek from one of them would set them all -going again. But on the other side stood the great _bure_, where all -the funeral guests were feasting and drinking _yangona_ in honour of -the departed spirit. - -Early next morning a messenger came to the door of our hut to ask if -we would see the Buli’s face. Followed by several of my men carrying -the funeral gifts, I climbed to a small house built upon a high stone -foundation. The inside was crowded with the neighbouring chiefs, -and I took my seat in silence. At the far end, wrapped in folds of -native cloth and the finest mats, lay the body. The whale’s tooth -and funeral gifts were now brought in and formally presented by the -_Mata-ni-vanua_, and accepted by an old man in the ancient Nandrau -dialect, of which I could scarcely understand one word. And then, when -a costly _Rotuma_ mat had been given for the body to lie upon in the -grave, I made a short speech in the Bau dialect, and was conducted to -see the face uncovered. - -At mid-day the great wooden drum was tolled, and the armed -constabulary, looking very neat in their white _sulus_ and blue tunics, -were drawn up as a guard of honour near the cairn which was to form the -grave. At length the body, wrapped in mats, and followed by the wives -and relations of the dead chief, passed slowly to the grave. Among all -the mourners, I only noticed one case of genuine grief--the chief’s -daughter, Janeti; all the others, as is usual in Fijian funerals, -appeared to wail in a prescribed form. Indeed one of the widows, having -probably seldom seen a white man before, stopped wailing for a moment -to point me out eagerly to the other mourners. Then the body was -carried into the little hut that surmounted the cairn, and we stood in -the broiling sun until a native teacher had delivered a sort of funeral -sermon. - -When all was finished, every one acted according to the old proverb, -“Le roi est mort!--Vive le roi!” and the question of whom I would -appoint as his successor became the subject of discussion. When I -returned to my house, I saw the widows at the water’s edge breaking up -a number of carved wooden utensils with stones. These were the cups -and dishes of their dead husband, which no man must henceforth touch -lest their teeth drop out or they be bewitched. For if a man should -drink from the cup of one who has eaten his relation, such evil will -certainly befall him. But as I was exempt from this danger, the cup and -the platter and fork, used by the Buli in old days for human flesh, -were presented to me. - -At three o’clock I summoned a great meeting of all the natives, at -which speeches in honour of the late chief were made, and I there -provisionally appointed Tione--a rather unintelligent man of about -thirty-five--to succeed his father, having first ascertained that this -appointment would be acceptable to the majority. In the evening the -people of Nandrau made a great feast to their visitors, and gave them -return presents--a polite intimation that they were expected to leave -on the following morning. These having been divided among the various -tribes who were represented, feasting was continued until a late hour. -But about nine o’clock, before the moon rose, an old man went out into -the bush to call the dead Buli’s spirit. We heard his voice calling -in the distance for several minutes, and then, amid the breathless -silence of the assembled people, we heard the footsteps of some one -running. “He has the spirit on his shoulders,” said a man near me, as -the old man rushed past me to the tomb. Apparently he must have thrown -the spirit into it, for after crying out, “It is all well,” every one -retired quietly to their huts for the night. - -Before daybreak the next morning, Buli Nandrau was forgotten in the -bustle of speeding parting guests, and as the sun rose our bugle -sounded the “fall-in.” Passing out of the sombre shadow of the great -cliff, we rode into bright sunlight, and we felt that just so had the -shadows of the past given place to the light of a clearer knowledge, -and that with this old warrior the old order had passed away, and a new -had come. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] This marriage afterwards took place, and, less than a year later, -Janeti, too, attempted her own life. This was after her father’s death. - - - - -TAUYASA OF NASELAI, REFORMER. - - -Tauyasa, commoner, of Naselai village, of the tribe Kai Nuku, lived -years before his time. It was his misfortune that he was born a savage -with a brown skin: it should not be his fault if he did not enjoy the -sweets of civilisation. White men owned land on the banks of the great -river: so did he. White men wore trousers and ate with a knife and -fork: so would he. White men owned cutters and paid his countrymen -to work for them: and so he bought a cutter of his own and paid his -fellow-villagers to plant his bananas. White men had chairs and tables, -glass windows and wooden floors, horses and saddles, and an account -at the bank: Tauyasa persevered until at last he possessed all these. -And so Tauyasa came to be well thought of and patronised by his white -neighbours, and the more he rose in their estimation the deadlier grew -the envy of his own people. For Tauyasa was no chief, and among his -people to attempt to rise above the station to which one is born, and -to refuse to give to him who asks, are social crimes beside which all -other sins are mere errors of judgment. But Tauyasa cared for nothing -but that his bananas should have fifteen “hands” to the bunch, and that -his cutter should not be too late for the steamer. When the commission -agent showed him his account sales, he took the cheque straight to the -bank, and received from the teller a slip on which his total balance -was written, which he would compare with some cabalistic signs he -had in a soiled copy-book at home. For Tauyasa applied his knowledge -of human nature wherever his financial reasoning failed him. “The -foreigner,” he argued, “who owns this bank does not guard my money and -make it multiply because he loves me, but because he hopes some day to -steal some of it. Therefore will I ask him every two weeks to confess -how much he has. Then, although I am black, he will not rob me unless -he robs the other foreigners whose money he keeps, and this he will not -dare to do.” - -[Illustration: “_On the night of each return from the capital._”] - -But on the night of each return from the capital he could not escape -from the ties of kindred. First, there came his uncle, a plaintive -old man, who carefully bolted the door before unburdening himself of -his troubles. He had no lamp, for the kerosene was dry, and there was -no sugar to drink with his tea, so he drank no tea, and his stomach -felt so bad that he thought some foreign drink was the only medicine -that would cure him. Then a peremptory voice from without summoned him -to open the door, and Alivate, the chief’s henchman, was admitted. He -had all the self-confidence that distinguishes those who bask in the -smiles of royalty. “Greeting!” he said. “The chief has sent me to you -to borrow your horse for to-morrow. I will take it now with the saddle. -Also he wants a root of _yangona_.” - -“Will the chief send the horse back? The last time he left the horse at -Namata, and the saddle was lost.” - -“Perhaps he will send it back. Give me the saddle.” - -He gave place to a man in a white shirt, with a book and pencil, all -deprecating piety and smiles, who called Tauyasa “sir,” and seemed -in his way of speaking to be perpetrating a cruel caricature of the -neighbouring Wesleyan missionary. - -“I have come, sir,” he said at last, with a little chuckle, “about the -_vaka-misonari_. Paula has promised to give one pound, the same as you -gave last year. It is written in the book that Paula will give this. -You, sir, will doubtless give two pounds this year. Your name will then -be printed so that all will know. I will write down two pounds, sir. Is -it not so?” - -After him came Savuke, Tauyasa’s second cousin, with a pitiful tale -about her husband, sentenced that day by the courts to pay five pounds -for beating an Indian with a stick. “If he does not pay to-morrow,” she -said tearfully, “they will crop his hair, and he will work, and then -who will feed me and the child? The Indian was a bad Indian, as they -all are, nor did he beat him hard, but only twice--on the head. And I, -knowing your pitiful nature, have come to you, Tauyasa, because you are -my relation and have much money, and afterwards Joseva will pay you -back.” - -“Joseva owes me seven pounds already.” - -“Yes, he knows that, and the remembrance is heavy with him. He is still -seeking money with which to pay you.” - -“Well, then, I will release him from the debt that his mind may be at -rest, but this money that you ask I cannot give.” - -Then Tauyasa’s wife, who had been visiting a neighbour, came to greet -her lord. Their child was lately dead, though Tauyasa had bought two -cows and fed it upon milk, and otherwise followed all the directions -for rearing infants that were printed in ‘Na Mata.’ She, too, was the -bearer of bad news. Some one--presumably an enemy--had stolen the cows’ -tether-ropes, and one of them, the spotted one, had been found in the -Company’s cane-field, having damaged many stools of cane, and the white -one could not be found at all. “I think it is the Indians,” she said; -but Tauyasa thought otherwise, and said nothing. - -The man with the book had accomplished his devastating raid, and had -set down the names of half the village to give “to the Lord” more than -they possessed. Therefore, rather than break faith so pledged, they -must beg, borrow, or steal enough to meet their obligations. First, of -course, they tried Tauyasa, but he had heard a friend of his, a white -storekeeper, assailed in the same way, and he knew the logical answer. -“If you must owe money at all, it is better to owe it ‘to the Lord,’ -who can afford it, than to me who cannot. Besides, you would be giving -my money and calling it yours, which is a lie, for which you would -certainly be punished in hell.” But that night several of Tauyasa’s -imported hens were missing. - -At last they all went and left him alone to take the cure for all -the cares of civilised life; and, a little less than half drunk, he -went off to the store to associate with his equals. There his voice -might have been heard haranguing the knot of grinning colonists who -frequented the store, and his peroration ran thus: “God made a mistake -when He made me black. Um [tapping his chest], black man! Um [tapping -his forehead], white man!” - -But though Tauyasa increased in wealth and substance, his life was -not happy. It is true that his people had given up _kerekere_, and -no longer begged his money from him; but they took no pains to hide -their hatred and contempt. It was in vain for him to show them that -so long as they held their goods in common they must remain savages. -They preferred to live from day to day, as their fathers did, leaving -the morrow to take care of itself. It was well enough for a foreigner, -who knew no better, to work all day, and to hoard money, and to give -nothing for nothing; but here was one of themselves aping the ways -of foreigners as an excuse to cover his natural churlishness and -inhospitality. “To do like Tauyasa” became a by-word in the village. -Truly, he was born before his time: he was of the stuff of which -reformers are made, and he met the reformer’s fate. He had quarrelled -with his wife because she gave away his things in his absence; his own -people would have nothing to do with him, and the foreigners whom he -imitated despised him. - -So Tauyasa began to worry, and the native who does that is doomed, -because he was born to a life free from care, and has had no training -in the curse of Adam. He grew thin and irritable, and no longer joined -the nightly meetings at the store. But the more he worried the bitterer -were the taunts of his people, and a kind friend, of course, repeated -them to him. Then a day came when the cutter’s sails were stripped, and -the bananas hung uncut, although a steamer had come in these two days; -for Tauyasa would ship no more bananas, having taken to his mat, and -given out that he would die that day week. It was in vain for those of -his white friends that had heard of his illness to send him soup, and -medicines, and milk-puddings cunningly devised, for Tauyasa would eat -none of them, knowing that he must die, and caring not to live--for -there was bitterness in his heart against the world and all men in it. -And upon the day appointed Tauyasa died as he had said, and his body -was wrapped in rolls of white _masi_ and mats, and buried, and his -spirit went to its own place. - -Then it was found how many brothers Tauyasa had, and how many brothers -his father and mother had. They all came to his house after the funeral -to transact some little matters of business. There was a want of -brotherly love at this meeting, for Tauyasa had owned a cutter worth -£200, and a cutter cannot be satisfactorily divided among several -eldest brothers. There was a horse, too, and a table, and cupboards, -and many camphor-wood boxes made in China, and in one of the boxes -there were many bottles that would each have cost the vendor fifty -pounds in fines had the police known. There was not much said about -Tauyasa. It was a sad thing, no doubt, that he was dead, but did not -his possessions remain? At evening it was all settled. The eldest uncle -had the house with the glass windows, and the brothers had all the -rest: only Tauyasa’s wife got nothing because she was a bad woman, and -did not love Tauyasa; and besides, she belonged to a different tribe. - -And on the Sabbath the _lali_ beat for service, and the same teacher -took the pulpit that had come to Tauyasa about his contribution to -the _vaka-misonari_. It was a powerful sermon--all about the wicked -and hell, and such things, and it was none the less powerful that -the preacher was mimicking the ravings and the whispers, and the -cushion-thumping denunciations, of the district missionary who had -taught him. They were all sinners, he summed up--they broke the -Commandments every day: but there was forgiveness for all there -present. Yet, he added in a hoarse whisper, there were some who could -never be forgiven. Then with the roar of an angry bull he shouted, -“Who shipped China bananas on the Sabbath?” “On the Sabbath,” repeated -the echo from the other side of the river. “Who shipped China bananas -on the Sabbath?” Then in the hushed pause that followed he whispered -hoarsely, “Tauyasa! Tauyasa!” - -Again he roared, banging the table with his fist, “Where is Tauyasa -now? Where is Tauyasa now?”--“yasa now” cried the echo. He glared at -the village policeman as if expecting him to answer, and lifted his -clenched fist before him, twisting it slowly from side to side, and -hissing from behind his teeth, “_Sa mongimongi tiko e na mbuka wanga_. -He is squirming in the everlasting fire.” - -Thus ended Tauyasa, Reformer,--condemned in this world and the next, -like his prototypes. - - - - -A COOLIE PRINCESS. - - -“We’re to have about nine hundred of the Jumna lot on this plantation. -They seem to be an average lot of coolies, seeing that Mauritius -and Demarara get first pick--sweepings of the Calcutta jails, with -a sprinkling of hillmen from Nepaul. They cost a trifle over twenty -pounds a-head to introduce; but I ought not to grumble, as they’ve -thrown the Princess into my batch. Not heard of the Princess? She’s -a howling swell from Nepaul--nose-rings and bangles from head to -foot--husband pretender to the throne of those parts--beheaded, -drawn, and quartered for high treason--Princess saved by faithful -retainer--just time to clap the contents of the family jewel-case on -her body before the lord high executioner called--weeks in the saddle -disguised as a man--flung herself upon the mercy of the recruiting -agent, and breathlessly pledged herself to work for ninepence a-day -for five years trashing cane beyond the black water. That’s _her_ -story, and she can show you the jewels and the faithful retainer to -prove it.” - -“And do you think she’ll work?” - -“Can’t say, not knowing much of the ways of princesses; but if she -don’t, you’ll see her in your court under section thirty-four of the -Principal Ordinance, which has no proviso for princesses, and then it -will be your pleasing duty to make her work.” - -Then Onslow, the manager, rode off, leaving me to sign warrants for the -batch of refractory coolies just sentenced. - -In due course the “Jumna” batch were towed up the river in a -sugar-punt, and turned loose into the new coolie lines. We could hear -them at night settling down--a babel of strident voices, dominated at -moments by a howling chant, with tom-tom accompaniment. A week later -they had built in the verandah of the long building with partitions -of empty kerosene and biscuit tins beaten flat. Filthy rags obscured -every doorway; naked children were rolling in the sun-baked dust, -and besmearing themselves with the fetid mud from the puddles of -waste-water thrown outside the doors. There a wild-looking mother -squatted in the shade, performing the last offices to the head of her -youngest, while two older children leaned against her back playing with -her lank greasy hair. A girl of five, with tiny silver bangles on arms -and ankles, was gravely marching the length of the building, supporting -on her head with one hand a brass bowl of smoking rice, while with -the other she held up her long petticoat; and over all there were -flies, and noise, and stench, and happiness enough for a twelvemonth’s -occupation. The new coolies were settling down. Somewhere in the -building the Princess must have held her court, or perhaps she was in -solitude learning “the sorrow’s crown of sorrow.” - -Then the first tasks were set, and the trouble began. Friday’s -informations for absence from work rose from twenty-three to -sixty-seven, and on Tuesday at ten o’clock a vast crowd of the -accused and their sympathisers, curious and bewildered, disfigured -the grass-plot at the court-house door. A burly Fijian constable was -surveying them with a disgusted curl of the nostril, such as may be -seen any Friday afternoon at the reptile-house of the Zoological -Gardens. The luckless overseer had but one story to tell--of tasks -set but not attempted--light tasks, suitable for the new and -inexperienced--five chains trashing Honolulu cane--no more. The pleas -for the defence would have melted the heart of a wheel-barrow. “You -are my father and my mother, but I am a stone-mason. The white sahib -told me that I should work at my trade. I can build houses, but I -cannot cut cane.”--“I am a goldsmith. I never said I would work in the -fields.”--“What can I say? You are my judge. My belly is empty, and I -cannot work,”--and so forth. They were discharged with a caution. - -“That is all the men,” said the overseer; “the rest are women.” - -“Arjuna!” cried the clerk. - -“Arjuna!” repeated the Indian constable outside. - -There was a pause. - -“Is the woman here?” asked the interpreter impatiently. - -“She is here,” returned the officer from without. - -There followed sounds of persuasion, amounting almost to entreaty, -such as are unusual from the mouths of minions of the law. Then when -expectation had been wrought to the highest dramatic pitch, the -sunlight from the door was darkened, and there burst upon our dazzled -gaze a vision of gold ornaments and gauzy draperies. - -“The Princess,” whispered the overseer, with a deprecating smile. - -She was tall and willowy, and her slender limbs seemed to be weighed -down with the burden of the bangles that almost hid them. Heavy gold -circlets seemed to crush the tiny ankle-bones, and every slender toe -was be-ringed. Besides earrings and the gold stud that emphasises the -curve of the nostril, she wore no head ornaments, but the shawl that -fell from her hair was of the finest striped gauze. She must have -been fully twenty, but the brightness of her eyes was still undimmed -by time. She surveyed the thatched court-house with a glance of cool -contempt, and walked proudly to the reed fence that did duty for a dock. - -“You are charged with absence from work.” - -The Princess glanced sideways at the interpreter, and then stared -straight at the beam over my head. - -“She told the sirdar she didn’t mean to do any work.” - -The evidence is interpreted to the accused. - -“Has she anything to say?” - -The interpreter might have put the question to the wall with as much -result. - -“Then tell her that she has come from India to work for five years, and -work she must; if she does not, she will be punished, and eventually -sent to jail, where she will be made to work.” - -The accused slightly raises her royal eyebrows. - -“She is fined three shillings, or seven days’ imprisonment.” - -At these words she turned round and beckoned to the bank of heads -that had gradually filled the doorway. Four men broke from the -group--Nepaulese by their looks--and came in. One of them, evidently -the Keeper of the Privy Purse, making deep salaam, advanced to the -clerk’s table and dropped twelve threepenny bits upon it. The feelings -of the interpreter at the coolness of the whole proceeding were too -deep for words, and before he could translate his explosive English -into the vernacular, the Princess had left the court with her suite. -Then followed comments in Hindustani from without that filled Ramdas, -the wizened Indian constable, with righteous indignation. Translated -they were, “Call this a court-house? Why, it is made of grass! They -should see the court-houses in India!” - -For the next two weeks the Princess was known to the outer world -by rumour only, which had it that she was scarcely behaving as a -widowed Princess should behave. The Keeper of the Privy Purse had, it -was said, been encouraged to aspire to the consort’s chair, and the -other Ministers were becoming jealous. Nor was this all. There were -aspirants for royal favour outside the Ministry, who threatened to -disorganise the household. Within the month her name reappeared in -the charge-sheet. It was a second offence, and the fine was therefore -heavier; but again her almoner satisfied the demands of the law. -After that there was quiet for a space, because the suite took it in -rotation to perform their mistress’s task besides their own. There -were even rumours of subscriptions among her sympathisers to buy out -her indentures from the manager. But there came a change. Competition -for royal favour must have become so keen, or the Princess herself -must have behaved in so unroyal a manner, that a day came when the -smouldering feuds in the household burst into flame, and there was -something very like a riot. In the actions and counter-actions for -assault brought by the men of Nepaul against one another, the royal -name was bandied about very freely, and it became evident that a part -at least of her vassals had thrown off the yoke. Money, moreover, had -been lent, and the borrower denied the debt, and brought four witnesses -at a shilling a-head to counterbalance the plaintiff’s four engaged -at the same rate. Between the eight witnesses swearing irreconcilable -opposites, the court had to decide whether money had passed or not. -Then the wily old Ramdas, constable and priest, came softly to the -bench and whispered into its ear, “S’pose me fetchum Kurân, dis feller -no tellum lie; he too much ’fraid.” Armed with authority, he left the -court, going delicately, and presently returned on tiptoe, carrying on -his extended hands a massive volume as if it was an overheated dish. -Pausing before the table he said with due solemnity, “By an’ by he -kissum, dis feller he plenty ’fraid. Dis Kurân belonger me. Abdul Khan -he sabe readim, me no sabe, on’y little bit, other feller he no sabe! -On’y Abdul Khan sabe!” Then bending forward with bated breath he said, -“He cost three pound twelve shillin’ along Calcutta.” His own reverence -seemed doubled as he recalled the stupendous cost of the volume. Then -with great ceremony he gave Joynauth the book and made him swear, -laying it upon his head. - -“Joynauth, did Benain give you this money?” - -“Sahib, he did; with my eyes I saw him!” - -Ramdas’s excitement was great. He was going about the court-house on -tiptoe, holding his sides with both hands, and blowing softly from his -mouth. - -“Dis feller no lie. He makim swear along Kurân, he too much ’fraid;” -and he glared at the defendant triumphantly as who should say, “You are -convicted, and mine is the hand that did it!” - -The defendant was recalled. “Swear him too, Ramdas.” - -He paused in holy horror at carrying the awful test further. - -“What for dis feller makim swear, sahib? Joynauth, he no lie, he -_plenty_ too much ’fraid.” - -“Swear him, Ramdas.” - -Threateningly he gave Benain the book, and the dread oath was -administered. - -“Benain, did you give Joynauth this money?” - -“Sahib, he lies; I did not.” - -The shock to poor Ramdas’s feelings was too great for words. He could -only gasp, and dance from one foot to the other. “Oh,” he cried at -last, “one man he die very soon, one week, I think!” For it was -evident that to one at least of the parties a Kurân that had cost -three pound twelve in Calcutta was no more sacred than the book the -Kafirs kissed. It mattered nothing to him what decision the court -came to. He had simply to watch the stroke of doom fall, as fall it -must, upon the perjurer. But two years have passed since that day, -and both the witnesses survive, while a stroke of doom, if dismissal -from the police force can be so called, has fallen upon Ramdas himself -in connection with an adventure in which a bottle of spirits took a -leading part. But Ramdas now touts for cases for a solicitor in coolie -practice, and is a light and an expounder of the Scriptures to the -faithful; and since both these occupations pay better than the police, -perhaps he discerns the hand of Allah in his dismissal, and still -awaits his vengeance upon the perjurer. - -Since open feuds had weakened the ties of loyalty, the poor Princess -found that she must either wound her slender hands with the sharp-edged -leaves of the Honolulu cane for a slender pittance of ninepence a-day, -or again figure in the charge-sheet. She chose the latter as being -more in consonance with her dignity. In due course the blue paper -that she refused to take was flung at her feet by a policeman, and -for the third time she underwent the ordeal of prosecution with a -self-possession born of practice. This time--her third offence--no -almoner would avail, for she was sentenced to fourteen days’ hard -labour without the option of a fine. - -Ramdas would have pounced upon her and haled her forth as soon as the -sentence was pronounced if he had not been restrained. The indignity of -being herded with the other dirty and dishevelled female prisoners was -enough without that. At daybreak the wooden station drums sounded for -work, and the Princess’s troubles began. It was Meli’s daily triumph to -muster the Indian prisoners in a row, and bring up the stragglers into -their places with a jerk that audibly clashed their teeth together. -These spindle-shanked, stinking coolies called him a bushman!--him, -Meli, versed in all chiefly ceremonial, a bushman! Therefore should -they know the strength of his arm. The women had sulkily taken their -places in obedience to the peremptory command of their tormentor; but -the Princess, herself accustomed to command, stood afar off under a -clump of feathery bamboos, indifferently watching the scene. - -“_Lako sara mai koiko._ You there! What are you doing? You female -roasted corpse! Come here. _Kotemiu!_ (G--d d--n.) Come here, _vulari -vulu_” (---- fool). - -The Princess regarded him with lazy curiosity. Then there was the sound -of swift running, and as a falcon stoops to the trembling rabbit, so -did Meli swoop down upon the now frightened Princess. There was the -hurtling of a body through the air, a misty vision of flying draperies -and shining gold, a chinking together of many metals, and the Princess -was in her place in the line, dishevelled and bewildered, but in the -finest rage that it had ever been Meli’s fate to call down upon his -woolly head. The storm burst, and all discipline was at an end. He -succumbed without a murmur, knowing instinctively that to attempt to -check such a torrent would bring down upon him the angry flood of -thirteen other female tongues. His colleague left his gang in the -bananas to look on, and the male prisoners threw down their hoes and -peered, grinning, from among the broad shining leaves, to see his -discomfiture. It is not necessary to repeat all the Princess said. Her -past history, her present wrongs, her opinion of bushmen in general -and Meli in particular, the glories of the Government of India, and -the infamy of the Government of the colony, were all exhaustively -discussed in language more forcible than elegant. Long after Meli had -hustled her companions off to their work, she was still declaiming in -a voice that cut the ear like a knife. But when she became conscious -that her audience had dwindled to five grinning native prisoners who -did not understand her, the outbursts of eloquence became spasmodic, -and at last she fell back upon the jail to brood over her wrongs. Then -Meli’s courage returned to him, and, armed with a murderous-looking -weeding-knife, he followed her to her lair. In two minutes, loudly -protesting, she found herself sitting on the grass path with her -fingers forcibly closed upon the handle of the knife, which, resist -as she would, cut the grass before her with the superior force of -Meli’s arm. When left to herself she furiously flung the knife into the -bananas, and wept tears of impotent rage. But the native warder, who -sat perched on the fork of a dead tree watching the male prisoners as -they weeded the bananas, took no notice of her, and so she dried her -tears and fell to watching him as he threw stone after stone from the -pile in his lap with unerring aim at the prisoners guilty of shirking -their work. - -But later in the day two Nepaulese, aspirants for court favour, -appeared on the scene and energetically cut the grass set for -their liege-lady’s task, while she sat listless and indifferent, -condescending now and again to pluck with her slender fingers a -single blade of grass, with an insolent affectation of satisfying the -requirements of the law, whenever the official eye fell upon her. She -may have plucked thirty blades of grass in the working day, perhaps not -quite so many; but it was much to have vindicated the discipline of the -jail, and more to have made the Princess do any work at all. Her spirit -was so far broken, and the romance of her story may be said to have -ended here. - -Coolies may buy out their indentures for a round sum, and by some means -this sum was raised among her admirers. There were burglaries in the -neighbourhood about that time; and one indeed of the suite was arrested -on suspicion by the European sergeant of police, who said as usual, -when called upon to produce evidence, “It’s a well-known fact that he’s -a noted scoundrel, and I submit to your worship that that’s evidence.” - - - - -LEONE OF NOTHO. - - -“Ië, Setariki, how long did the foreigner say that I must stay bound? -Until the month January? That is, after the day of the New Year, and -there are four moons to set till then. It is always the way of the -Government--wait, wait--till the bones of those who wait crumble away. -If I _must_ die, let me die now, Setariki. I told the foreigner in the -court that I slew the woman, and the payment is death; therefore, where -is the use of waiting? You are a policeman and know the law?” - -“The law is this--that you be judged in the Great Court that is held -but four times every year. Na-vosa-vakadua [He-who-speaks-once] will -judge you, and the foreigners in turbans of sheepskin will dispute and -quarrel about you in their own tongue, so that you cannot understand, -and the witnesses will swear to speak the truth, and will make all -things plain; but one of the foreigners with sheepskin on their heads -will ask them many questions to entrap them, and speak angrily to them, -seeking to hide the truth, so that their senses will fly from them for -fear, and they will lie, and the truth be darkened. Thus did Manoa -escape, and that other woman who drowned the white man, although they -themselves bore witness that they had done the thing of which they were -accused. But they were women, and you, being a man, I greatly fear that -you will not escape. The ways of the foreigners are strange, and you -cannot understand them; but I, being a policeman in the service of the -Government, understand them all; and this I know, Leone, that it is -better to be judged in the Great Court, where the judge knows nothing -of our tongue, than in the court of the province; for in the Great -Court there is much disputing and much darkening of the truth, so that -many of the guilty escape.” - -“Nay, Setariki; even though they darken the truth until none shall know -it from the false, yet cannot I escape, for I have told the bald-headed -magistrate that I slew Lusiana.” - -“The foreigners I have told you of, whose business it is to twist the -truth--_loya_ they are called--will come to you in the prison, and -teach you how to lie before the court, and will even lie themselves -on your behalf if you will first give them money. The Indians do this -every day, feeding these _loya_ with money, and they in return save the -Indians from the law. Therefore send to your relations to gather money -together for the _loya_. Send to Vita, who has the rent of your land -where the store is; tell him not to spend that money, but to sell copra -to add to it. Now tell me the manner of the accusation.” - -“What is there to tell? I am Leone of Notho, of the fishermen clan. I -did in truth slay the woman Lusiana my wife. It fell thus. I gave the -marriage gifts, and my house was built as the law requires; then I took -her and we were married. This was ten Sabbaths ago. She was of good -report, and none knew aught to her dishonour, so that I feared no other -man when I took her to be my wife. She was a woman of a mild spirit and -obedient, and I rejoiced greatly in her. Then, one night as we lay upon -the one mat under the screen, I, being nearly asleep, heard a tapping -upon the bread-fruit tree that grew near the door--such as a _sese_ -makes with its beak upon a branch when it eats grasshoppers, only -louder; and as I lay wondering what it might be, the sound came again, -and from the mat where Lusiana lay there was the sound of tapping as if -in answer, but very softly; and I, feigning sleep, breathed heavily, -but turned my eyes towards her. Now a lamp was burning in the house, -but it was turned low, for the kerosene was nearly dry, and I had no -shillings. She seemed to be asleep, but when the tapping sounded again -I saw the screen shake, for she had her left arm extended beneath it, -and was tapping on the mat with the ends of her fingers. Then I lay -very still to see what would happen, and presently she rose softly and -crawled out of the screen to the fireplace as if to light her _suluka_ -from the embers. After a little she went softly to the door and out; -and I, fearing some evil, rose and went swiftly out by another door, -taking my clearing-knife from the leaves as I passed. The moon shone -brightly. And as I looked from the corner of the house I saw Lusiana, -my wife, standing in the shadow of the bread-fruit with a man, who -spoke earnestly to her as if to draw her away. Then my blood flowed -down in my body, and I came upon them suddenly, and the man fled, but -I knew him in the moonlight for Airsai the village constable. But the -woman stood and looked at the ground. And I said, ‘Who is that man? -Is this your habit when I am lying asleep?’ But she looked always at -the ground, and would not answer. Then my anger increased, and I said, -‘Answer me, answer, you light woman!’ But she still was silent. Then I -took her by the hand to lead her to the house--I swear to you that I -only meant to lead her to the house,--but she resisted me, and tried -to draw away her hand from mine. Then I let her go, and great rage -entered into me. ‘Will you neither speak nor come with me?’ I shouted. -But the woman stood with her back to me, still looking at the ground. -And a great strength came upon me, and the knife in my hand became -lighter than a reed, and I swung it once in the air, making it hiss, -and crying, ‘Speak, woman!’ Then I struck--and her head being bowed, -I struck the neck at the back where it looked red in the moonlight -that shone between the bread-fruit leaves. The knife paused not, but -shore through all, for it was a mighty blow; and the head rolled to -the foot of the tree, turning the sand black, and the body sank down -where it stood, and struck my knees, spurting blood. Thus my _sulu_ -and my legs and feet were all wet. Then I cried for the others to come -and see what I had done, and they all came running: first the women, -chattering like parrots at sunset, then the men and children, and last -of all the village policeman, Airsai. And they took the knife from me, -and one brought a clean sulu and put it on me, taking mine to show to -the courts; and they went with me to the river to wash the blood from -my legs. But when they would ask me questions, I said, ‘Peace! I slew -Lusiana. Bind me.’ So they bound my hands with sinnet, and brought me -hither, not resisting, for the woman deserved to die.” - -“Is that all, Leone?” - -“That is all. But one thing is clear, that I cannot escape the law.” - -“Nay! Take rest for your mind, Leone. I know a foreigner in the town--a -_loya_--who is skilled in the law, being wont to dispute in the -courts. Of late few have paid him money to dispute, and he is hungry -for money--for foreigners eat money as we eat yams. For him, skilled -as I have said, it will be easy to darken the truth of this thing so -that the judge cannot find it, and will doubt whether it was Airsai -who slew the woman, or you, or whether she slew herself, or whether, -indeed, she was slain at all. Such things has he done for others, and -this he will do for you too, if you but pay him sufficient money before -the trial.” - - - - -RALUVE. - - -Vere did not tell me the story himself. He does not talk about his -past; but squalid as his life is, he cannot help looking like a man -with a history, albeit unkempt and half-starved in the struggle to -keep his half-caste brats from want. Hoskins, the father of district -magistrates, is my authority. He saw no pathos in it, only thought it -“an awful pity”; but years of tinned provisions are apt to dull the -sense of poetry in any man. - -Vere was the usual kind of younger son who leaves a public school with -more knowledge of field-sports than Latin, and having passed the limit -of age for the army, straightway joins the hosts of unemployed whose -ultimate refuge is the States or the Colonies. Unlike most of the young -gentlemen who graduate at an army crammer’s, Vere had no vices, and -when his turn came to tackle station-life in Australia, he found no -temptation to take the usual downward plunge, but hated the life with -all his heart. His letters home brought him unexpected relief. The -Colonial Office was asked to find a few young men to recruit the Civil -Service of a South Sea colony, and Vere, in common with half-a-dozen -others, was appointed, through the medium of a friendly chief clerk. - -He was kept at headquarters just long enough to wear off the novelty, -and to wonder why English-speaking mankind, especially when they -hail from Australia, succeed so wonderfully in stamping out all that -is picturesque from their surroundings; and then he was sent to -Commissioner Austin to be instructed in the mysteries of the native -language and customs, until such time as he should be fit for the -responsibilities of a Commissioner himself. Now Mr Commissioner Austin -was not a gentleman to be entrusted with the care of youth, and to -do him justice, he was the last person in the world to desire such -a responsibility. The Government had taken him over with the other -fixtures of a former _régime_, and if he had any belongings for whom -he ever cared, he had long ago forgotten them. In his own province the -Commissioner was a very great man indeed--that is to say, the natives -grunted at him when he passed, clapped their hands after touching -his, and generally left his presence smacking that part of the human -frame that is held in least esteem. But the law of the honour paid to -prophets is reversed in the islands, and the Commissioner found that -his importance in the social scheme sensibly diminished with every mile -from the boundaries of his district, and had therefore allowed his -visits to the capital to become very rare. Vere found the great man -affable and not inhospitable. “You will stay with me until you can make -your own arrangements,” he said; and Vere, not caring to prolong his -visit upon such terms, though he had nothing with him but his clothes, -lost no time in invoking the good offices of a friendly storekeeper. -With his help he found himself in a few days established in a small -native house, belonging to a petty chief, without a stick of furniture -but the mats that belonged to his landlord, and a mosquito-screen. He -wanted nothing more. The mats, with dried grass under them, were soft -enough to sleep on, and the floor was cooler and more comfortable than -any chair. For the first few days he attended the office regularly in -the hope of finding work to do, but his chief never seemed to want -him. “No, thanks, Mr Vere, not to-day. This work would be a little -beyond you. Perhaps you could not do better than work at the language.” -Vere realised later on that the Commissioner had the best of reasons -for not finding work for him. He had not enough for himself. There were -no coolies in his district, and the native magistrates disposed of -the court work. So Vere worked at the language in the only effective -way--that is, he spent day after day with his landlord’s family fishing -from a canoe, diving for _figota_, and drinking _yangona_. He bathed in -a stream a few yards from his hut, and had his meals with his native -landlord or with a neighbouring storekeeper. The life was too new to be -monotonous. - -One night as he was dropping off to sleep on his mats, tired out with -doing nothing all day, he heard the distant note of a conch-shell -mingled with the eternal murmur of the reef. “Turtle-fishers returning -with a big bag,” he thought, trying to remember what natives blow -conch-shells for, and turned over on the other side. But presently -distant voices, as of people aroused and hurrying, awoke the lazy -curiosity of one bound to study native customs. A light breeze from -the sea was rustling the great palm-leaves like heavy curtains, and -though the moon had set, the stars gave light enough to show the dim -outline of the rocky island near the anchorage. A light was creeping -in towards the beach, and he could just make out the huge triangular -sail of a double canoe. Then a hoarse voice from the canoe shouted to -the people who were assembling on the beach. Immediately, with a deep -exclamation, the babble of voices ceased, and every figure squatted as -if by word of command. Two or three men ran off into the village, and -Vere drew near the group in the hope of finding some one to explain the -situation. He soon found his landlord, who, in pidgin English, told -him that the dusky potentate who had despoiled the district for many -years had gone to his own place, and that his son reigned in his stead, -and had come to receive their homage. The men who had run to the town -came back with whale’s teeth, and as the canoe grated on the coral sand -the grey-headed village chief squatted with his feet in the sea, and -gave the deep grunt of respect, and delivered in low voice a rapid and -unintelligible harangue. The crew sprang into the water, and standing -waist-deep, dragged the canoe through the yielding sand until her prow -rested above the dry beach, and the old man, still squatting, gave -the whale’s teeth, hanging in a bunch, to the new-comers. A fire of -dead palm-leaves threw a red glare upon the brown faces and glistening -bodies of the strangers as they disembarked. A tall young man, -evidently the new chief, was the first. He was followed by a number -of men and women, who stood aside to wait for another woman who now -rose from the little thatched house on the deck. From her bearing, and -the respect paid to her, Vere saw she was to be classed far above any -he had yet seen. The chief seemed to ask in a whisper who the strange -white man was, and learning probably that he was a Government officer, -stopped to shake hands with him. The girl stopped too, and looked at -Vere as if expecting to be spoken to; but before he could take her -hand, she hurried off after the others. They were followed by the whole -village into the deep shadow of the palms, and Vere was left alone with -the dying fire to watch the crew of the canoe making her snug for the -night. - -Vere heard all about the new arrivals next day. Of Nambuto he had heard -before, a good deal that was discreditable, as is natural and proper -to a young leader of the people. The girl was all that an epidemic of -measles had left of a line of chiefs beside whom the present rulers of -the district were _parvenus_. Weakened by the ravages of the disease -that had thinned out his fighting men, her father had succumbed to the -chief who was just dead, and both conquerors and conquered had agreed -that _Andi_ Raluve should heal the hereditary quarrel by marrying -Nambuto, the eldest son of the victor. It was a tribal matter, and in -tribal matters women have no voice, least of all when they are of rank. - -The villagers seemed to take their loss with much philosophy. They -cut their hair and beards, it is true, and there was a run on black -cashmere in the nearest store, but they wasted no time in vain regrets -for one whose lightest word a week ago they would have tremblingly -obeyed. They devoted all their energies instead to the entertainment of -the living. Long-nosed slab-sided pigs were dragged by the hind-legs -to the ovens, protesting indignantly, until a few dull thuds clearly -explained the situation to them; and Vere’s friends chopped wood, -butchered, and cooked under a dense cloud of flies as if their lives -depended on their activity. Vere, driven to walk by himself, was -idling about near the sea, thinking how a native canoe, improved on, -would be an ideal sailing craft, when he came suddenly upon a figure -sitting under a great _dilo_-tree, bent almost double, and shaking -with convulsive sobs. Now the natives of these islands are not given -to displaying whatever emotions they have, and seeing that the figure -was a woman’s, all his English chivalry was startled into life; so, -forgetting that she could not understand him, he stooped down, saying, -“What is the matter? Can’t I do anything for you?” In the tear-stained -face that looked up he recognised Raluve, the lady of the previous -night, her big black eyes round with surprise. Reassured by his evident -concern, she gave him rapidly and in a low voice what might have been -an explanation of her distress, but as it was in her own dialect, he -understood not one word of it. With a desperate effort he plunged into -Fijian. “If you are in trouble I will help you,” is not a difficult nor -complicated sentence in any language. He attempted it, and the result -exceeded his expectations, for the girl struggled a moment, and then -burst into ringing peals of laughter. Evidently he had used the wrong -word, and this girl’s manners were no better than any other savage’s. -But she got up as he began to move off, and before they reached the -village she had promised to teach him her language. - -Next morning he received a visit of ceremony. His door was darkened, -there was a whispering and a rustling outside, and then Raluve came in, -shyly followed by two attendants of discreet age and mature charms. -She sank gracefully on the mats, doubling her feet under her, and the -matrons giggled. There was a constrained pause. Clearly this girl could -not be amused by the exhibition of a cunningly devised knife or an -alarum-clock. Desperately he fell back on photographs. Raluve took each -one, looked at it indifferently, and handed it to the nearest duenna, -who, being skittish, gazed at it upside down, and poked her companion -in the ribs, chuckling immoderately. But the photographs required -explanations, and then the lesson began in earnest; for every remark -Vere hazarded was first severely corrected, and then criticised by the -two frolicsome dames, with vast amusement to themselves. The system of -education was primitive, but it satisfied both pupil and mistresses. - -[Illustration: “_And then Raluve came in, shyly followed by two -attendants of discreet age and mature charms._”] - -If her chaperones were flighty, Raluve showed by contrast a deportment -austerely correct. She was by nature and training an aristocrat--well -versed in the traditions of her race, which included the belief in -a natural gulf fixed between her own and the lower orders, and a -vast contempt for the vulgarity of gush. She had been educated on a -mission station, where she learned to take an intelligent interest in -something beyond getting up linen, and the latest scandal. Now reserve, -intelligence, and the manners of a lady are so rare a combination in -a native, that the callow Vere began to fill up the blanks in her -character in his own way, and to miss the lessons on the days she -failed to come, more than he cared to confess to himself. Not many -men can use the eyes God gave them without enlarging or belittling, -unless they have the loan of others’ eyes to correct their vision by. -Some do indeed succeed in viewing life through the wrong end of the -telescope, and in enjoying it hugely; but the majority unscrew the lens -and gaze on a new world--rocky mountains made of dust-specks, trodden -by ants as elephants. Vere, the solitary, was beginning to idealise the -natives, and it is all up with the man who does that, since, for some -occult reason, it is in the feminine side of the race that the finer -qualities are discovered. He was startled to find out for himself -that this brown-skinned girl thought and spoke much in the same way as -did girls with white skins, with the only difference that she was more -natural and _naïve_. He found himself confiding his worries past and -present to her, and asking her advice. He liked her ready sympathy, and -her healthy good sense, and her sense of humour amused him; and when, -after three weeks of almost daily companionship, he heard it hinted -that she would soon leave the island, he knew that she had become a -companion whom he would miss very much indeed. - -During these three weeks Nambuto, after the manner of his kind, had -been eating up the land, and he was in no hurry to go away. But a time -comes when the slaughter of pigs and fowls has an end, and at the -village meeting the _mata-ni-vanua_, whose duty it was to apportion -each man’s contribution to the daily feast, pointed out that that time -had arrived. Besides a couple of elderly sows, on whom their hopes of -a future herd were centred, nothing remained to kill. An intimation -must be conveyed to their haughty guest. Now it is a fine thing to be a -chief in these happy isles. Rank and riches in civilised communities -entail responsibilities. We are even told on high authority that the -rich are as unlikely to enjoy happiness in this life, as they are -certain to lose it in the next, which, to say the least of it, would be -rather hard upon the well-to-do if they had not the remedy in their own -hands. But a chief in these islands enjoys not only his own wealth, but -his subjects’ besides, and has neither responsibility nor that product -of civilisation called a conscience to trouble him. He does not sleep -less soundly for fear the crushed worm may turn. The crushing was done -too effectually for that some generations ago. - -Nambuto wore his new responsibilities lightly. They seemed to consist -chiefly in consuming the food brought to him by his uncomplaining and -despised hosts, who, if they ever came as visitors to his island, -would be kept from starvation by his vassals. But comfortable though -he was, his visit had to be curtailed owing to the natural difficulty -in reanimating pigs and fowls that have been cooked and eaten. The -morning’s presentation of food had been meagre, and the excuse that the -land was in famine was conveyed to Nambuto’s household. There was no -help for it. The great canoe was unburied from the pile of leaves that -had sheltered it from the burning sun, and hauled down to the water’s -edge; the great mat sail was spread upon the sand, while deft fingers -replaced the broken threads with new sinnet; and the word went forth -that she would put to sea when next the wind was fair. - -Raluve came earlier than usual that morning, and, to Vere’s surprise, -alone. She walked straight up to the chair where he was sitting, and -said, “I have come to take leave.” - -“Why, where are you going to?” he asked. - -“To our land. And I must take leave quickly, lest they be angry with me -for coming.” - -She spoke hurriedly--almost roughly--and held out her hand with averted -face. Vere sprang to his feet, and slammed the door of his hut. - -“You can’t go like this, Raluve, until I know all about it. Why didn’t -you tell me yesterday?” - -“It is Nambuto’s decision. I have only just been told. But the canoe is -all prepared, and they will sail to-day, for the wind is fair.” - -Vere felt bitterly disappointed. He had almost forgotten that her -mind, like the colour of her skin, must be different from his. He had -taken her seriously, and made a chum of her, and here she was going -back to her own people without a word of regret. He now remembered how -one-sided their intimacy had been. She had listened patiently to all -his confidences, but had told him nothing about herself in return. -Well, it had been a pleasant dream, and of course it was common-sense -that the awakening must come. What could he, an educated Englishman, -have to do with her, the future wife of a savage? This was not even to -be his adopted country. Of course he must say good-bye to her, and let -his dream fade into the squalid reality of his life. But he felt angry -with himself and her. - -“Why should they be angry with you?” he asked indifferently, as he put -out his hand. - -“Because my people are like beasts,” she answered indignantly, “and -there have been many words about us, and Nambuto is angry, and has -spoken evil to me. Look! I will hide nothing from you.” And then -she told him her whole story, lapsing into her own dialect in her -excitement, so that he could not follow her: how she had been betrothed -to Nambuto against her will; how Vere was the only friend she had ever -had, for the men of her nation knew not what friendship with a woman -could be; how she would now have to go with them, and be insulted by -them all, with none to protect her, or be her friend. - -“_Isa_,” she cried, “you are a white man, and know everything, and I am -a black woman and ignorant: tell me of some medicine, that I may drink -and die! I cannot bear my life.” - -Then all Vere’s better qualities rose to drag him down. All the -chivalry in him was stirred. He was not going to see this girl bullied, -and on his account. Whatever the consequences might be, he must protect -her. A worse man would have wisely reflected that native customs are -best left alone, and that, after all, the prospect painted by Raluve -was not so very terrible--for a native woman. But prudence does not -wed with youth, and to Vere, who had already begun to lose the sense -of proportion, her fate seemed horrible. The average man needs one -month in the great world for every five in the islands to correct his -perspective, and to realise the utter insignificance of himself and -his surroundings, otherwise he will infallibly come to believe that it -matters whether or not the coral foundations of the islands crumble -away, and the whole colony, executive machinery and all, go to the -bottom of the Pacific in the next hurricane. - -Vere’s fluency astonished himself. He found the words without looking -for them. The figure at his feet on the mats was so limp and helpless, -so hard to reassure by comforting words, that he threw aside all -caution in his promises. So they sat on till the pattern of the -sunlight through the reed walls crept across the floor-mats, and began -to climb the opposite wall, dyeing Raluve’s bowed head with red gold -streaks. Suddenly they heard a woman’s voice in the road calling her -name, and in another moment one of her women looked in at the door -breathless, saying, “I am dead of looking for you. The chief sent me. -We sail to-morrow, and it is his word that you come at once.” - -Raluve looked at Vere appealingly. “There will be much anger shown to -me,” she said; “how shall it be? Am I to go?” - -We never know the turning-points in our lives at the time; and so Vere, -following that which supplies healthy-minded men with a substitute for -a conscience, his own inclination--said, “Do not go. If they are angry -come to me.” - -When she had gone and the light had faded, he began to feel very -uncomfortable. He had encouraged her in resisting her own people, and -he was, after all, quite powerless to prevent them from ill-treating -her. Ugly stories crossed his mind of the doings of the old heathen -days, of the outrage and torture inflicted even on women when they -resisted the chiefs. Perhaps even at that very moment the storm was -breaking on her. The suspense was becoming unbearable when he heard a -smothered cough at the door. In the dim light a woman pushed a crumpled -note into his hand and vanished into the darkness. It was Raluve’s -first letter to him. The writing was in pencil, childish but clear, for -Raluve had been taught by the missionary’s wife. - -“I am most pitiable,” she wrote. “Nambuto has spoken evil of me before -our people and the people of this place, and I am despised. But this is -nothing, for they sail to-morrow. Only I fear lest they do something to -me by force, and I go to hide in the forest. I will come back when they -return. And another thing, Nambuto spoke evil of you also. I send my -love to you.--R.” - -[Illustration: “_The canoe was afloat, and laden with such of the -low-borns’ household gods as their aristocratic visitors thought worth -taking away._”] - -Next morning there was a hue and cry. The canoe was afloat, and laden -with such of the low-borns’ household gods as their aristocratic -visitors thought worth taking away. The mat-sail was bent, and ready -to be hoisted, but Raluve was nowhere to be found. The palm-groves -around the village resounded with her name, and four of the crew of -the canoe even went so far as to stand shouting her name in front of -Vere’s house. This was hard to bear. Then one of them struck up in -a sing-song tone an extempore verse, which the rest received with a -burst of coarse laughter. This too was very hard to bear. Then another -cried, “Lady Raluve, are there not white men in our own land?” And this -being too hard to be borne, the wit saw the flash of white clothes, and -found himself dazed upon his back in the grass, with the sensation of -having had his face crushed in, while his three companions were in full -flight up the read. And Vere returned to his hut relieved in feelings, -but with a curious sense of having been degraded to a lower rank of -humanity where he stood upon the same level with half-naked savages -who wrangle and fight over their women. Two hours later, his fat -good-natured landlord, passing his door, volunteered the information -that the canoe had sailed. Being a wise man, he said nothing about the -missing girl, the great topic of village scandal, and thereby earned -Vere’s confidence. - -Now it is not to be supposed that Raluve could escape from annoyance -with the departure of her people. These happy isles are no more free -from the love of scandal than is civilised Europe. A people endowed -with the love of social converse, and without any legitimate object -for discussion, naturally falls back upon the topics most dear to the -frequenters of small European watering-places. Such a prize as the -reputation of a chief woman, hitherto unsmutched, to tear to pieces, -would not glut the carrion-crows of this small district for many weeks. -And with the knowledge that Raluve had earned her chief’s displeasure, -all respect for her rank vanished; for they shared with a certain class -of society journal the gloating triumph that only rank and character -tottering from its pedestal can properly awaken. So when Raluve quietly -returned to the village to take up her abode with the chief’s wife, she -found that it would need all her strength to live the scandal down. -Deeply wounded as she was to find that by her own act she had earned -the scorn of a people she had been trained to despise, her courage soon -returned to her, and she gave back scorn for scorn. But she lived -on with her one friend, the village chief’s wife, a woman of her own -island and her own clan; and as the days passed, and the scandal became -stale, she began to take her proper place among them. - -Vere was not allowed to escape scathless. The village scandal had -of course leaked out among the few Europeans of the place, and as -they were precluded from comparing notes with one another, not being -on speaking terms for the most part, each one supplied the details -according to the richness of his individual fancy. The principal -storekeeper’s wife told her daughter that he was an unprincipled young -man; and the damsel, having heard all the details from her native -_confidante_, who did the family washing, examined Vere as he passed -with redoubled interest. The missionary bowed coldly, and his wife -cut him dead. But, worst of all, Commissioner Austin felt it his duty -to have his say in a stammering speech, which began, “I don’t pretend -to be a particularly moral man myself, but----” and got no further, -because Vere, who knew very well what was coming, was short in the -temper, and replied with heat, “Mr Austin, I am a _very_ moral man, and -I always mind my own business,” which, as a rejoinder, was coarse and -unwarrantable, and offended his well-meaning chief past redemption. He -felt very sore and angry with the world that chose to regard what he -felt to be the fruit of his nobler self as a mere boyish escapade, and -he hardened his heart into a defiant resolve to keep his promise to -Raluve, and let the world say what it pleased. Probably if the world -had left them alone, or if either of them had been a coward, Vere would -not have become--well, what he now is. - -The next six weeks taught Vere some new things. He learned, for -instance, that a brown-skinned girl has much the same kind of heart -inside her as her white sisters; that, when in love, she will say -and do all that has been said or done by a highly civilised woman, -save only that she is more simple, and less tamed by conventionality; -that love counts no cost, and asks only to be free from artificial -restraint, and utterly careless of the future. His life for the past -six weeks had been like some perfect dream that fears no awakening. -Memories of home, the throb of the great world, the ambitions of his -boyhood, touched him like the murmur in the ears of one who, standing -in some silent wood, seems to hear the roar of the city he has just -left. How often in a lifetime can any of us pause and say, “This -is perfect; I ask for nothing more”? We can no doubt remember many -perfect moments in our lives, because we have forgotten the little -vexations,--that we had the toothache, and our account was overdrawn; -for it is the petty worries and the cares of civilised life that -prevent our happy moments from being quite perfect. The _tempo felice_ -was never quite so happy as we think, nor the _miseria_ quite so -wretched. But Vere’s life was happy enough to be worth paying for. -He had met Raluve every day, and had come to look on life as quite -impossible without her. Sometimes they had met at a trysting-place of -Raluve’s choosing in the forest, where a great _tavola_-tree barred -the entrance into a narrow gorge in the hills. Sometimes they had -wandered on moonlight nights along the sandy beach; and once Raluve had -plunged, laughing, into the warm sea, daring him to follow her, and had -swam to the little islet that lay a few hundred yards from the shore. -But once, as they sat talking beneath the _tavola_-tree, Raluve had -clutched his arm, listening to some distant sound, and a few moments -later a man had crashed through the underwood and stopped a few yards -from the tree, hidden from them by the great trunk. Then Vere prepared -himself for battle, but the intruder crashed off again in another -direction. Thereafter Raluve declared their trysting-tree unsafe, and -the island became their regular place of meeting. There had once been -a house on the point, but nothing was left to mark the spot but a -number of oleander-trees, and a patch of couch-grass which the sheep -had trimmed down. Here at least they were safe from intrusion, for they -could see any boat upon the starlit strait that divided them from the -shore long before it could land. And to make their safety surer, they -swam off independently after night had fallen. Vere told the girl the -story of Hero and Leander, and she thereafter would laughingly wave a -smouldering branch among the oleanders as a signal to Vere to bind his -clothes on his head and swim across to her. - -But the awakening came at last. One morning a cutter anchored bringing -the mails from headquarters. Besides his usual home letters, there was -an oblong official envelope addressed to him. The letter was short. -Somebody had the honour to request that he would report himself at -headquarters at his earliest convenience, with the view of taking -up an appointment as magistrate of another district. So here was -his promotion before he expected it. Three months ago it would have -delighted him, now it seemed the worst misfortune that could befall -him. To leave this place meant giving up Raluve, for it was out of the -question that she could go with him, unless he caused a scandal that -would cost him his appointment. And yet what prevented him from shaping -his life as he chose? He had only desired promotion to shorten the time -of his exile, and life with Raluve was no longer like exile, for he had -eaten of the lotus, and the smell of the reef had entered into his soul. - -Never did the sea seem so cold, nor the island so distant, as on that -night. A light rain was falling, and the smell of the oleander-flowers -was carried to Vere by the light wind as he swam; and while he waded -ashore shivering, Raluve came out from the shadows to meet him. - -“E Kalokalo, I am dead with waiting. I waved my brand, but you did not -see it, and now it has gone out. And I began to fear, thinking of the -woman you told me of, who saw her lover’s dead body washed up at her -feet.” - -“Am I late? I was reading letters that the cutter brought--letters from -_papalangi_.” - -“From your own people? E Kalokalo, you have never told me of them. Some -day they will make you throw me aside, and you will take a _marama_ of -your own land to wife.” - -“What is this foolishness, Raluve? Who has put foolish words into your -mouth?” - -“I thought they were foolish words, but now I know they are true. -Alika----” - -“Alika is a foolish old woman. What did she tell you?” - -“She said, ‘Raluve, this white man loves you. You are fortunate, for -the white men love better than our men; but for all that he will leave -you, and return to his own people, taking one of them in marriage.’ And -when I grew angry she said, ‘Did Kaiatia keep Lui, the German, though -she bore him two children? And why does Alisi go about Lakeba like a -hen with half her feathers plucked out?’ Then I knew that her words -were true; for Lui has a white woman for wife now, and Alisi was beaten -by her people because of Tomu, the trader, and he left her, saying he -would return, and did not. And one day you will leave _me_, Kalokalo.” - -Vere said nothing, feeling her eyes upon him in the dim light. - -“But I will know whether it shall be so,” she went on. “Sit down: no, -not there on the grass, but on the sand. Now see,” she said, taking up -an empty cocoa-nut shell, “when I spin this cup it shall fall toward -one of us. If it falls toward you, then you will leave me, and marry -one of your people; and if it fall toward me---- See, it spins. _Mana -dina!_ Ah, faithless one, it topples like Kata, the kava-drinker!” - -The shell reeled, lurched, and fell toward the girl, rolling away on -its side from between them. Raluve’s hands fell to her side. - -“Nay; but the shell spoke the truth,” said Vere, laughing. - -But the girl had become serious. - -“It is a heathen game, and we ought not to have done it, therefore it -lied. And if you doubt that it lied, I will take a Bible to-morrow, and -swear that I will never leave you. Then if I swear falsely, I shall die -as Ana did, when she swore she did not burn down Finau’s house. But you -will leave me, and it is right; for you are my chief, and I am a black -woman, and I could not bear that you should be despised by your people -because of me. What is she like, Kalokalo?” - -“Who?” - -“The woman you will marry. She must be a great lady like the Governor’s -wife, not like the _maramas_ of Levuka, who are angry, and have harsh -voices. I hate them: but you would never take one of them?” - -“And what would you do if I married, Raluve?” - -“I would be your wife’s servant if she would let me; but if you left me -for one of my own people----” She caught her breath, and half-started -up. He thought she was excited by her own speech, but her face was -set, and her body tense. She was listening. “Somebody is coming,” she -whispered. Vere strained his ears, but could hear nothing but the faint -hiss of the sand as the tiny waves sucked it back. - -“I hear nothing,” he said. - -She put her hand on his mouth, and rose upon her knees, looking -seawards. After some seconds she stooped. - -“There are no other double canoes but Nambuto’s. I can hear the _sua_, -four of them, therefore it is a double canoe. They are sculling against -the wind, and may land here. Come, let us swim across.” - -But while Vere still hesitated, scarcely believing her, the quiet air -was pierced by the deep note of a conch-shell from the sea. - -“It is Nambuto,” she said, excitedly. “_Vonu?_ No, they do not blow -like that for _vonu_” (turtle). - -It was too late to think of swimming ashore. In another moment the -beach would be alive with men. Raluve drew Vere back into the shadow -of the oleanders, and made him lie down lest his white face should be -seen. He could see her crouching at the edge of the sand. Gradually -he began to distinguish a dull rhythmical beat, and the girl drew -back into the shadow. The sound grew louder, and then he saw a dark -mass emerging from the night, which took the shape of a great canoe, -creeping inshore against the light land-breeze which had just sprung -up. It glided on noiselessly, save for the rhythmical blow of the _sua_ -as they rocked from side to side in the sockets, while the figures of -the four scullers stood out in sharp _silhouette_ against the sky-line. -It passed so close to the point of the island that Vere could have -thrown a biscuit on to the deck, and could hear every word spoken by -those on board. When it had passed on to the beach, Vere realised how -great had been the strain to Raluve. - -“Nambuto is there; I heard his voice. What shall I do?” - -It seemed a small matter to Vere whether Nambuto came back or not. He -could not realise that this girl by his side, who thought and spoke so -rationally, was still one of her own people, bound to fear what they -feared, and to respect the customs that had become stronger than law to -them. That she, an affianced chief woman, should prefer a white man to -a man of her own race, was as great a social crime as it would be were -a countrywoman of ours to tolerate an Indian rajah. - -Meanwhile the party had landed from the canoe, and the voices on the -beach were silent. Raluve thought she had heard her name called in -the direction of Vere’s house; but they waited until the cocks had -crowed in the village, and a few sleepy birds had begun twittering in -the trees on the island. It was the safest hour for their return: the -natives, roused in the night, would sleep late that morning. Still -Raluve feared to take a direct course to the shore, and, calling to -Vere to follow her, waded through the shallow water and struck out, -steering a diagonal course towards the shore opposite Vere’s house. -The water was brilliantly phosphorescent, and her body seemed to be -clothed in polished silver as she swam. Every stroke of her arms and -feet scattered a shower of diamonds that flashed a moment and vanished -in the black water; and from before her hundreds of fish, taking her -for an enemy, shot away, leaving a dull train of fire behind them like -shooting-stars in a dark sky. It was a long swim, for it was high tide; -but as they waded ashore, tired and out of breath, the beach seemed -deserted. There was only the dark shelter of the trees to be gained, -and they were safe. They stopped a moment on the sand to put on the -clothes they had tied round their heads, and then hurried up towards -the trees. But before they reached them there was a shout from the bush -just in front of them, answered by two voices further off in different -directions. - -“They have seen us,” said Raluve, hurriedly. “Run away, Kalokalo. I -will wait for them here.” - -But Vere had no idea of running away, and stood his ground by her side. -There was the sound of a man crashing through the bushes, and a native -ran into the open and stood before them. It was Nambuto. - -There was silence for some moments. Raluve stood facing him with -heaving breast, while Vere clenched his fists, and drew nearer to -her. The chief broke the silence with the most insulting word in his -language. Vere did not understand the word, but the man’s tone and -Raluve’s passionate indignation were enough for him. - -“You scoundrel!” he cried in English from between his set teeth; “how -dare you speak to her like that?” - -Nambuto, expecting a blow, put up both hands to defend his face, and -Vere, mistaking the gesture in the dim light, thought he was about to -strike him. In a moment Nambuto was reeling backwards, stunned with a -heavy blow between the eyes, and as he fell he shouted a few words at -the top of his voice. - -“Run, Raluve, and hide yourself,” cried Vere. - -“Come with me,” she answered; “he has called his men, and they will -kill you.” - -She tried to drag him into the trees, for they could hear voices and -the crashing of the undergrowth, as Nambuto’s men ran in the direction -of their chief’s voice. - -“Run and hide yourself,” cried Vere again, excitedly pushing her into -the shadow of the trees. He had just time to reach the trunk of a great -_dilo_-tree, and put his back against it, when five men ran out on to -the beach where Nambuto sat rubbing his eyes as if stupefied. - -“Seize the white man!--he has struck me,” he cried. - -They came upon Vere cautiously, for he was a formidable object for -unarmed natives to tackle. “Quick, a stick,” cried one, and ran to pick -up a rough worm-eaten piece of drift-wood. He dodged the first blow -and knocked down one of them, who tried to run in under his guard, but -the second blow struck his shoulder, and he fell. Before he could rise -they were upon him, trampling and stamping the breath out of his body. -But help was near. Raluve had run to the nearest house, and it was that -of Vere’s landlord and particular friend. But she outstripped him, and -was among Vere’s assailants, raging like a tigress, long before he came -up. It is no easy matter to quiet savages when their blood is once up; -but her prestige among them was still great, and one after another -they slunk off before her indignant flow of invective. She was almost -terrible in her anger, as a woman can only be when she is defending -some one she loves. - -I once saw a woman, meek, cowed, and dispirited with the years of -slavery called marriage among these people, divorced from her husband, -who beat her. She did not seem to have a soul above her yam-patch, nor -could she be stirred to a show of interest by the announcement of her -freedom. Her child, an ill-favoured brat, eruptive with sores, sat by -her side, and when she heard that it was to be taken from her, even -that woman became terrible in her indignation. - -Raluve’s anger all changed to the most perfect tenderness as she -helped her companion to lift Vere, all bruised and stunned, and carry -him to his own house. Once there she would not leave him, but sat -fanning him far into the day, without thinking of hunger or thirst, -until a friendly storekeeper, who had heard of the disturbance, came -to see him. No bones were broken. There were some bad bruises, and an -unsightly black eye. But as any movement gave him intense pain, he -wisely lay still, and slept away the greater part of the day, while -Raluve sat fanning him. Late in the afternoon a burly form filled the -doorway. Mr Commissioner Austin was, sorely against his will, come -to do his duty. He began by suggesting that Raluve should withdraw, -but she would not go farther than the end of the house. Was Vere much -hurt? No. Well, he was glad to hear it. He was awfully sorry about the -whole business. These wretched connections always ended alike, because -they brought Europeans down to the level of natives. But it would be -a lesson to Vere, who would take what he had to say in good part. But -Vere did not take it in good part at all, and told him so. He had some -news, however. The vessel in which Vere was to leave for headquarters -was to sail in a day or two, and Nambuto had been ordered to go before -the end of the week. - -Left to himself, Vere had ample time to consider his position. This -girl loved him,--there was no doubt in his mind about that. What did -he feel for her in return--gratitude, the vanity kindled by unsought -love, or something stronger than either? And if he could drop back into -the life she lived, the life man was intended to live, free from all -the vulgar struggle and squalor of civilisation, in some island to the -eastward, far from his own kind, where the smell of the reef and the -warm wind would possess his senses, he would surely ask for nothing -more. But there was a reverse to the picture. If it were to mean the -life that some white men, who had abjured civilisation, lived, despised -alike by their fellows and the people they consorted with, he could -see nothing but misery before them both. He tried to remember a single -case where the marriage of a white man to a native woman had turned -out happily. There was Bonson, an educated man like himself. One could -read the man’s history in his face. All self-respect was crushed out of -him now, but how he must have suffered for his mistake when it was too -late! No; a curse seemed to follow the union of opposite races: they -must put this folly out of their hearts, and each follow the destiny to -which they were born. But as he turned to speak to Raluve he met her -eyes fixed upon his face. She had crept up to his bed as he lay with -his face to the wall. - -“What is in your mind, Kalokalo, my star? I cannot bear your face to be -hidden from me, for then evil thoughts enter your mind, and your face -is changed towards me. Are you in pain?” she asked, laying her hand -gently on his forehead. - -“Raluve,” he said, taking her hand, “I was wondering how I shall fare -without you.” - -“But you are not going to leave me?” she said, catching her breath. “If -you go, I must go with you to take care of you.” - -“We do not plan our lives,” he answered; “it is ordered that I go from -here in three days.” - -Her hand dropped from his, and she sat quite still. He could hear her -breathing, but cowardice kept him from looking at her. The light waned -and the house became dark, but still she made no sign. At last he could -bear the silence no longer. - -“Speak, Raluve,” he said; “is it not better for us both that I should -go?” - -“For you it is better,” she answered in a low voice, “and therefore it -must be. But for me the darkness has fallen, and is eating me up.” - -What could he say more? The pain had to be borne, and he would only -make it worse by speaking. Then as he made no reply, she got up and -left the house without another word. - -Vere’s bruises did not trouble him long. In two days he was busied -about his packing, and on the morning the steamer was expected he was -ready for the voyage. He had not seen Raluve since he had told her -of his determination, and he had felt his courage too weak to risk -another interview like the last. But he could not leave her without -saying good-bye, and he had just made up his mind to find her when she -herself came in. She had brought a beautiful mat as a parting gift. -Disregarding all native ceremonial, she laid it down at his feet, -saying, “This is to be your sleeping-mat, and it will be my shadow -with you, so that you may not forget me.” When he had thanked her, she -put out her hand abruptly, saying, “You are going: let us take leave of -one another here.” - -Vere had only to take the hand and let her go, but he had pictured to -himself quite another sort of leave-taking, and his vanity was wounded. - -“Are we to part as if we were at enmity, Raluve? Every one shakes -hands, therefore we must kiss each other: besides, I want to know what -you will do when I am gone.” - -The girl looked at him angrily. “It is nothing to you where I go when -you are gone. You are a white man, and I am a black woman. I amused -you, my chief, while you were here, and you will find another to amuse -you in the place to which you go.” - -“Raluve, are you angry with me?” - -“No. You are a white man, and white men always treat my people so.” - -“But think----” - -“Give me no more reasons. It is enough that I myself would not make you -despised of your own people. It is best that you should go.” - -“But what will you do?” - -“I also will go away. The steamer will carry you far, but my canoe -shall bear me farther still,” and she laughed a hard little laugh. Then -she got up to go, and Vere dared not detain her. She did not respond -to his parting kiss, but left the house with averted face. What could -she have meant by her last words? He remembered with sickening dread -that he had heard of natives killing themselves for the most trivial -reasons. Men and women had climbed cocoa-nut-trees and flung themselves -down because their townsfolk ridiculed them, and Raluve, refined as -she was, had a native’s feelings underneath the surface. If she meant -this, the rest of his life would not be pleasant to him. And as he sat -pondering a sound caught his ear, and he ran to the door. There sat -Raluve trying in vain to stifle her passionate sobs. He tried to raise -her, and draw her back into the house, but she resisted, crying, “O -Kalokalo, I cannot leave you in anger, therefore kiss me, and let me -go; my love for you is hurting me.” - -She returned his kiss this time, and in a moment she had passed behind -the palm-stems. - -Two hours later Vere was shaking hands with his native friends on the -beach, hardly daring to look along the line of faces for fear that -Raluve might be among them. But she was not. He strained his eyes -from the steamer as she moved slowly out to distinguish the tall lithe -figure he knew so well. On the hill above the village was a great -boulder of black limestone, hurled from the topmost pinnacle of the -island in some old earthquake. As they steamed away he saw a movement -on the top of the rock. With his glasses he made out the figure of a -woman dressed in white, as Raluve had been that morning. She took off -her upper garment, waved it once above her head, and then flung it far -out towards the steamer. The wind caught and bore it sideways, but -before it had fluttered down among the tops of the palms the figure was -gone. It was Raluve’s farewell. - -Vere had plenty of leisure during the two days’ voyage to think -over the past. Till now he had been buoyed up by the sense of doing -that which was difficult and disagreeable, and therefore probably -right,--for his early training had imbued him with the idea that the -pleasant ways of life lead into the “broad road”; but now he began -to feel unaccountably ashamed of himself. If he had been to blame -for accepting the girl’s love, still, he thought complacently, the -wrench had been as great for him as for her. But argue as he would, -he felt that he was running away from a situation he did not dare to -face,--that he was betraying and deserting a woman. What was it that -she had said? “The steamer will carry you far, but my canoe shall -bear me farther still.” Why, if she had that sort of temptation in -her present state of nervous excitement, she would yield, of course. -What might she not be doing at this very moment while the engines -trampled on and put mile after mile between them? And he might save -her if he were there. Pulses began to beat in his brain, and he got up -and raced along the empty deck. Only a blue wavy line on the eastern -horizon remained of the island. As he looked at it, trying to picture -the village that lay beneath it, the memories of the last three weeks -rushed over him, with Raluve as the centre of each picture,--her -tenderness, her soft words, even the proud little pose of the head that -he had so often teased her about. It was a very perfect life while it -lasted. Then he began to remember words that he had said but forgotten -till now,--words that she must have taken as promises. Nay, but they -were promises, and he, an English gentleman, bound by promises, was -coolly breaking them. With every throb of the propeller this feeling -became stronger, until he had persuaded himself that he was already -bound by the past, and was no longer master of his own actions. There -was a feeling of rest in having come to a determination, and his mind -recoiled from the idea of again reviewing the arguments that had led to -it step by step. - -The first action on landing was to write the best and most foolish -letter he had ever written, resigning his appointment, without offering -any explanation. Then he made terms with the skipper of a cutter that -sailed the same afternoon to carry him back. He went on board at once, -not daring to meet any one he knew lest awkward questions might be -asked. - -They had a head-wind all the way back, and Vere became ill with anxiety -and excitement during the four days’ voyage. At last the palm-groves -he had left a week ago were in sight, and he was straining his eyes in -trying to recognise Raluve’s figure among the crowd on the beach. She -was not there. He landed with a sense of sickening fear. Two or three -natives shook hands with him, but he dared not ask them the question he -longed to have answered. A couple of storekeepers’ assistants were the -only white men on the beach. They stared at him in open astonishment, -and then explained his return in their own way with many grins and -nudges of the elbow. He hurried to his landlord’s house, knowing that -he would tell him the unvarnished truth without gloating over the -scandal. The daughter of the house was alone in the house mending a -net. Without waiting to account for his sudden appearance, he said, -“Where is Raluve?” The girl knew the story, and hesitated. “Tell me,” -he cried, angrily, “Am I a sick man that you fear to say the truth? -Where is she?” - -“She has gone,” answered the girl. - -“Gone whither?” - -“With Nambuto,” she said, falteringly. - -“Say on.” - -The story was short. On the day he had left there had been a great -meeting, and Raluve had been admonished before all the chiefs. Nambuto -had spoken kindly to her, and day after day they had waited till she -should make up her mind. Then gradually the old feeling of her race -must have gained upon her, and the memory of the dream that had passed -waxed fainter. Her people would take her back, and her lover had -deserted her, and as for death by her own hand--it was most terrible. - -“But why do you say she has gone with Nambuto?” asked Vere, fiercely. -“They are not married? Speak plainly all that you know.” - -“They are not yet married, but this I know, that they sailed in -Nambuto’s canoe this morning, and before they sailed Raluve’s -_tombe_[2] was cut off.” - -FOOTNOTE: - -[2] The _tombe_ is a long lock of hair worn by Fijian girls until they -marry, as a sign of maidenhood, the rest of the hair being short. - - - - -THE RAIN-MAKERS. - - -In Ambrym there is foolishness upon the coast, and wisdom among the -hills. For two whole months there had been peace: the clubs lay idle -in the eaves; the digging-stick replaced the spear; bold warriors -ingloriously tilled the soil; and yet there was scarcity. Peace, and -yet famine! December had come, but the yam-vines, already twining on -the sticks, had sickened and withered; the taro swamp was hard and -fissured, like old Turo’s face, and a stalk or two, blackened as by -fire, was all that was left of the taro; the plantain-leaves were -yellow and wrinkled; and still the earth was as iron and the heaven was -as brass. Not even Turo remembered such a season. - -It was useless to wait longer for rain: a few weeks longer and there -would be no one left to wait. Something must be done, and done at once. -But what? The ancient arts were forgotten. What is the use of being -able to creep unheard upon an unsuspecting foe, if one has forgotten -how to control the unseen powers? What profits it that one can strike -one’s foe with the club, if one no longer knows how to slay him with -magic leaves as the hillmen do? For there is foolishness upon the -coast, and wisdom dwells only among the hills. - -But to go to the hills for wisdom can only be resorted to under the -direst necessity. It is true that brains have often been brought from -the hills, but that was in a material form, for purposes of decoration, -as the grinning row of skulls under the eaves, that form Turo’s patent -of nobility, bear witness; and as the end one, added only eight weeks -ago, has not yet been paid for in the usual way, there is a natural -delicacy in applying for the loan of the wisdom seated in the crania of -the survivors. If only the hillmen’s heads, when sundered from their -wretched carcases, were not useless for purposes of consultation, the -difficulty would be solved. - -But any death is better than starvation. An ambassador must be sent. If -he does not come back, he will be no worse off than if he starved at -home, save that his body will play an important _rôle_ at a mountain -feast, and his head will grin derisively at the mountain children -playing before the chief’s house. But even so the hillmen will be one -head to the bad, and what is the use of a big score if there be no one -left to glory in it? In a week the warriors will be so famine-weakened -that the hillmen could hold them by the hair while the boys beat them -to death, as Turo used to do when he was younger. Yes, some one must -go, and who better than Erirala the orator? - -The matter is put before Erirala at the evening conclave. Erirala -approves of the principle, but thinks that Malata would make a better -envoy, seeing that his brother married a hillman’s third cousin. Malata -is diffident about his powers of persuasion, and the point is submitted -to old Turo as he squats in his doorway, still trying with palsied -hands to carve the club he began two years ago. - -“Let Erirala go,” he pipes, and there is nothing more to be said. - -That night the limestone ring, the handiwork of the gods, is unburied -from its hiding-place. It is beyond all price but that of rain. Ten -barbed spears--not the shin-bone ones, because to present _them_ -to the relations of the shin-bones would be indelicate, but good -spears, inlaid with mother-of-pearl--and eight strings of shell money, -are the price with which the precious rain is to be bought. Erirala -leaves at daybreak, after being wept over by his three wives and the -sister-in-law who digs his plantation. There is nothing to do but to -wait till he either comes back or--till bad news comes. The pitiless -sun rides through the burning sky, and sinks at last behind the western -hills, leaving the air hazy and tremulous. The tide goes out, and the -mud hardens and cracks behind it as it goes. The very crickets are -silent--dead, probably, of thirst--and the people still sit, spear in -hand, beneath the palm-trees waiting. It grows dark, and still he fails -to come. Surely the worst has happened. - -A cry at last from the forest. A hundred voices answer, a hundred -wasted bodies spring up to welcome Erirala returned from the dead. -The silent village has found its voice at last, and every inhabitant, -down to the dingo dogs, has something to say, and says it at the top -of his voice. Brands are snatched from the fire, and then Erirala is -seen standing on the bush-path imploring silence in dumb show. At -last he gets it, and tells his news. The wise have taken pity and come -to the foolish; but unless the foolish keep silence, the wise will -be frightened and take to their heels, if they have not already done -so. The wise know that better men than they have been enticed by fair -words and gifts, and fallen into an ambush from which not even their -gods could save them, and never came back to tell their friends how it -happened. - -There is silence, and Erirala retires into the bush and calls. No -answer. He shouts again with long-drawn mountain vowels. From far up -the hillside comes a faint answer. The wise have run fast and far, -and must be reassured, and Erirala bawls comforting words into the -darkness. In twenty minutes the two wary old birds emerge into the -village square, and stand blinking in the circle of flickering light -cast by the fire. The children crowd wonderingly round them, and their -elders scan them from the dense shadow of the huts. Will the wise stay -the night? No; the wise have a particular engagement at home before -morning. Won’t they at least wait till a meal can be cooked? No; the -wise have come on business, and that done, they must needs return. -Well, then, since they won’t, let Erirala go with them to fetch rain. - -The chief magician leads the way to the river, now nearly dry. He is -elderly and wizened, with no clothes but a shell and a stick thrust -through the cartilage of his nose. His familiar is a trifle younger, -attired in the same cool garb, but dignified with an ear-lobe pierced -and distended enough to carry an empty _caviare_ tin whole. The left -lobe, following a natural law, had broken under the strain, and after -dangling for months on the shoulder, has lately been excoriated and -tastefully spliced with grass bandages. The familiar carries a roll -of bark-cloth under his arm. Equipped with this only and wisdom, the -magicians would force the heavens to give rain. How wonderful is human -intellect, and how high above the beasts is man! - -Arrived on the river-bank, Erirala is commanded to advance no farther, -for it is not permitted the common mortal to witness the mysteries of -the intercourse between the gods and their chosen ones. Together they -pick their way among the round boulders that form the dry river-bed, -till they come to the inch-deep stream that is all that is left of -the river. Together they grope to a certain boulder, with a flat top, -whose base is washed by the trickling stream. “This is the place,” -says the magician. The familiar grasps it, strains at it, and raises -one end a few inches from the water. The wise one snatches the cloth -from under the familiar’s arm and thrusts it under the stone, which -falls on it with a heavy thud. Then in the pitchy darkness, with no -sound but the faint gurgle of the shallow stream, he chants magic words -in a quavering treble--words whose meaning is hidden from degenerate -man, but which were handed down by the wise men of old, in the days -when gods came up from the sea with white faces, strange head-gear, and -turtles’ shells on their backs, and slew their forefathers, and sailed -away in a magic canoe to the heavens whence they came. Whatever the -words meant, the gods always obeyed them, provided that the right kind -of cloth had been put under the right kind of stone. Would they disobey -now? - -When they came back Erirala was sitting on the bank, slapping his bare -limbs to kill the mosquitoes and keep his spirits up. “Erirala, there -will be rain,” said the sage; and without another word he plunged with -his companion into the bush, and was gone. The envoy returned to the -village. In answer to his anxious questioners, he could only say that -he had seen nothing and knew nothing, except that the rain was coming. - -Next morning the brazen sun climbed into a copper sky. Not a breath -of air rippled the oily sea; even the distant reef was silent. It was -just such a morning as the rest, and the rain-god laughed at spells. -Nevertheless, the women were sent to cut firewood to store in the huts, -and to gather a store of bush-nuts against the time when the bush would -be impassable. The canoes at the river-mouth were hauled up lest the -flood should carry them away, and old Turo sat on the beach looking -eastwards, and chuckling to himself. - -But at noon the day is not like other days. The cockatoos are -screaming, which they never do at noon on other days. Insect life is -awake. The whole bush is singing, and only dull-witted man awaits a -clearer sign. And now even that is given. A purple haze has gathered in -the south-west. It resolves into a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand; -there is a muttering in the heavens, the clouds rush up the sky, though -not a breath as yet cools the simmering air or stirs the palm-leaves. -The muttering grows to a murmur, the murmur to a distant roar. The air -becomes dark; the roar gathers volume. There! there! to the south a -great grey pillar rolls towards us, lashing the forest beneath it: the -air grows cold. To your huts! it is upon us! and with a savage roar the -rain-storm bursts. It does not break up into paltry drops, but gushes -down upon the thirsty earth in one broad torrent, and the parched soil -drinks it greedily, and sends up a sweet fresh smell in gratitude. -Did the windows of heaven open so wide as this when Noah launched his -clumsy craft upon the waters? Surely the ocean will overflow and engulf -Ambrym. - -Rain, rain, rain! The sodden thatch has long since ceased to turn the -flood. The water beats down the tree-tops, bowing beneath its weight. A -raging torrent has been formed through the village square. The soil is -crumbling away to the house-foundations, and fast pouring out seawards. -There are six inches of water in every house. The crazy rafters of -Turo’s house have given way, and the last trophy has fallen and been -whirled out to sea, grinning at its enemies’ new misfortunes. Voices -are drowned in the never-ceasing roar of rushing water. It grows dark -and light again, and again dark, and the people, hearing, seeing, and -breathing nothing but water, cling helpless and dismayed to their -house-posts, and wish for the day. The third morning dawns, and the -men gather round the wreck of Turo’s house. Their voices are drowned -by the rain and the river, whose trickling stream has long burst its -banks and become a furious torrent. They shout to one another that the -rain must be stopped. But who can stop it but the rain-makers? Erirala -must again go to the wise with greater presents than those that brought -the rain. The treasures of the village are collected, and Erirala, -half drowned, is laden for his second embassy. Knee-deep in the swift -muddy stream that has torn its way through the village, he toils step -by step up what was once the path, and disappears. It is night when he -reaches the rocky spur on which are perched the dwellings of the wise. -He gropes his way to a hut, and shouts greetings through the blinding -rain. A voice from within replies. The leaf door slides to one side, -and a skinny arm is thrust out for the presents, yet is the envoy not -invited in. He proffers his request. The foolish have had the rain. It -was good. But there was a little too much of it. Will the wise be of a -good mind and turn it off? The wise will do their best: and with this -slender comfort Erirala is left to find his way back in the dark, half -swimming and half sliding down the slippery path. - -But with the dawn the rain has not ceased--nay, it has gathered double -volume. What do these crafty hillmen mean? Will they kill us with water -since they failed with drought? Or are they too lazy to raise a finger -to save us? - -Another night passes, and with the morning comes stern resolve. There -is no doubt now what are the hillmen’s motives, and if we needs must -die of water, let us at least redden it with our enemies’ blood. There -shall be one last embassy to them, and they shall understand that -the coast warriors will be trifled with no more. An ultimatum shall -be sent to these crafty foes, and the rain shall either cease or be -dyed with the blood of the rain-makers. Angry and defiant words are -spoken at the meeting on the spur overlooking the village whither the -foolish have removed from their inundated dwellings. Hungry and cold, -they cower in the driving rain, without any shelter but the dripping -trees,--men, women, and crying children huddled together, the victims -of a cruel conspiracy between the malignant spirits and their mountain -foes. Wearily Erirala leaves them, bound upon his last embassy, without -presents this time, but with a stern message instead. - -Hour after hour passes, and it is near nightfall when they hear his -cry from the forest above them on the hillside. The men seize their -weapons, and spring forward to meet him. “I told them that there would -be evil unless the rain stopped to-night,” he answers; “and they said, -‘Draw out the cloth from under the stone and the rain will cease: it is -a flat-topped stone.’” - -What stone? Why, the river-bed, of course. Not a man is left to guard -the women and children, for the whole of the warriors follow Erirala -towards the river-bank. The roar gets louder as they rush on. It is the -river--a broad foaming cataract by this time. What hope of finding the -stone in such a hell of waters as this? But Erirala knows the place. -A party is told off to cut stout vines from the forest, and in ten -minutes a rope, to which a ship might swing, is made and fastened to a -tree in the bend of the river, round which the flood-water swirls and -eddies. Clinging to the other end, Erirala and the boy Narau are paid -out into the stream, and as the current strikes their bodies they are -whirled from side to side like a pendulum girt with a belt of foam, -and followed by a foamy wake, like the track of a fast steamer. Near -the middle of the stream there is a deep eddy. As Erirala reaches -this he stretches up his arm, and perhaps shouts, though no sound is -heard by those on shore. Both he and his companion disappear for a -moment, come up for breath, dive again, and then emerge, waving their -arms. The people on shore strain at the vine-rope. It does not yield -an inch. Now, all together--pull! The rope stretches, yields an inch, -another, and suddenly gives some six feet with a jerk. Narau disappears -for a moment, and is then seen whirling downstream on the swift -current, waving a dripping, sodden, greyish-looking rag. Poor Erirala -is forgotten as the whole party rush for the point for which Narau is -swimming. A dozen hands are stretched out to pull him ashore. Erirala, -leaving the rope tied to the flat-topped stone, strikes out, and in a -moment lands at the same place. Yes. Narau has the cloth, sodden though -it be to a pulp of bark-fibre, scarce adhering together. - -Surely already the rain is abating! Yes; there is no doubt of it! Why, -there to the north-west, it is lighter! There is a break in the clouds. -One can almost see where the sun is setting. It is little more than a -drizzle now--not even that, for we are under the dripping trees. Two -hours later one can see the stars, and the clouds are sweeping away in -heavy masses to the southward. - -But just think what would have happened if Erirala had not found the -cloth under the flat-topped stone! - - - - -MAKERETA. - - -Makereta was not beautiful. Her mouth was wide, even for a Fijian girl; -and although she was on the shady side of nineteen, she had not yet -adopted the staid demeanour suited to her decaying youth. She was a -born coquette, and being quick-witted, and with a character hitherto -irreproachable, she had captivated the hearts of all the middle-aged -widowers in her neighbourhood. Why, had it not even been reported that -she had refused the honourable offer of Jenkins, the white trader, and -sent away the haughty Buli Yasawa, broken in heart and purse, after -gracefully accepting from him five pounds’ worth of printed calico -and cheap scent! Yes; Makereta had a certain charm about her quite -apart from her skill in ironing and the use of the sewing-machine, or -her being the niece of Roko Tui Ba. She was amusing to chaff; her -repartees were witty, if not refined; and she had an inexhaustible fund -of gossip about all the ladies of her acquaintance. But what a voice -she had! Its gentlest tones struck the drum of the ear like a tap with -the teeth of a saw; and when she laughed, which was generally after -some remark of her own, the old women in the next village would grumble -to each other about “that woman’s” deficiency in chief-like behaviour. -It was Makereta’s laugh that brought her into trouble. - -Her sister had been for some years married to a steady old native -preacher, who was chaplain to the small native force stationed in the -mountains. This good lady was the very antipodes of the dusky Makereta. -She had never been known to flirt, but then that may have been due to -other causes than disposition, and she led her good-natured husband a -life of it by making him ferret out real or fancied scandals, very much -against his will. - -[Illustration: MAKERETA.] - -In an evil hour Makereta and three other maidens, having caught a -miraculous haul of crabs in Nandi Bay, shouldered their baskets with -the double intention of presenting them to her sister and flirting with -the gay and licentious soldiery. They climbed the mountain-barrier, -and in due time reached the camp. For the next few days I heard nothing -of Makereta except her laugh, which triumphed over the half-mile of -bush that lay between us. She was staying with her sister, and on some -excuse or other the men found it necessary to consult their spiritual -adviser several times daily. It was at these times that the higher -tones of the laugh floated on the breeze like the cry of some animal in -pain. - -At length, as the novelist of the marvellous would say, “a strange -thing happened.” An excited and dishevelled minister of religion came -panting into my house, and this is what he said:-- - -“Sir, a terrible thing! Litiana and Makereta have been angry, and -Litiana is much hurt. This was the way of it. Makereta was in the -cook-house with some of the soldiers; they were joking, and Makereta -laughed very loud. Then Litiana called to her, saying, ‘We are ashamed -before the chiefs to-day;’ and Makereta replied with a very bad word, -and Litiana went in to chastise her, and they fought, and Makereta bit -Litiana, and her ear is gone, and----” - -“And what?” I asked, as he hesitated. - -“And, sir,” he said, solemnly, “_we cannot find the ear_.” - -I went with him. It was too true. Litiana was sobbing in a corner, -trying to stanch the blood from the site of her ear, and Makereta was -panting between two restraining soldiers. Two others were carefully -turning over the mats on what had been the battlefield. We searched -everywhere but without success, and then I turned to Makereta. - -“Where is your sister’s ear?” I asked. - -She half smiled, and said she did not know. - -“Do you remember biting her?” - -“Yes.” - -“Did you bite her ear off?” - -“I think it came off.” - -“Did you _swallow_ it?” - -“_Iss?_” (who knows?) - -A further ineffectual search left no doubt as to what had become of the -ear. Litiana, smarting under her injuries, haled her sister before the -native court, presided over by that magistrate who, in happier days, -used to beguile the tedium of the bench with music on the Jew’s-harp. -The damages were assessed at five shillings, and the little rift made -the music between the sisters dumb. - -“Was my ear only worth five shillings?” complained the elder. - -“Is it sisterly to drag one’s sister to court like an Indian -coolie-woman?” asked Makereta. - -I don’t know whether they have ever met since. Makereta soon after this -fell in love with a mild-mannered policeman, married him in defiance -of her relations, and now rules him with an iron rod somewhere down -Nadroga way. They both asked me to help them to bring it about, I -being their father, which meant that I was to supply the pigs for the -wedding-breakfast. - - - - -ROMEO AND JULIET. - - -Romeo loved Juliet, there was not the slightest doubt about that; for -although Juliet had been tattooed round the mouth, and had already -married Tybalt, and had dug Tybalt’s yams and cut Tybalt’s firewood for -the last two years, yet was Romeo ready to die for her. Verona slept -peacefully in the bosom of a tiny green valley, shut in by great jagged -mountains, and soothed by the lazy music of a tiny river whose water -must travel many days before it mixed with the great salt ocean. The -hot air quivered in the burning sun, which no breeze ever came to cool, -and at night not even a mosquito broke the utter silence. No street -brawls here in this Verona of Southern seas, for the humpbacked pig -and half-clothed chicken were past getting up a brawl, and they were -the only occupants of Verona’s single street. Old Capulet could tell -you of brawls enough, in which club took the place of rapier, and the -bodies of the slain were disposed of in a peculiar way; but that was -before the white man and the measles arrived, when Mongondro still made -the earth tremble, and before these white lunatics came and made him -wrap calico round his loins, and practise incantations with a hymn-book -(which were a waste of time, because nobody died of them as they do -of the real incantations), and taught him, in outlandish Bauan, that -when he was dead he would be made alive again to be burnt, and asked -him to give a shilling every now and again to the Great Spirit not to -burn him, and then took the shilling away with them. But old Capulet -doesn’t talk about these things any more, because last year the teacher -overheard him telling stories to the young men, and threatened to burn -him up with a flash of lightning if he ever did it again. - -Decidedly Verona was not an exciting place to live in; and so long as -the yam-crop was good, and the missionary left them alone, and that -other white man who came sometimes on a horse, and told them to hoe -their roads, life was easy and monotonous. - -Old Capulet had never heard of a romance. There wasn’t a word for it in -his vocabulary, and so he, at any rate, may be excused for what he did -when Tybalt came and told him what had happened. Why, in Capulet’s day, -women were not worth more than a whale’s tooth, however well they could -dig! and as for a girl refusing to marry the man who had paid for her, -or being untrue to the man she married--why, the thing was unheard of; -or at least, if it ever had happened, the case had always been dealt -with in the same way--the club, with sometimes the oven to follow. - -So when Tybalt came that evening with the story about Romeo and -Juliet his wife--Romeo, a man of the hated Noikoro clan,--it was not -surprising that old Capulet repaired to Tybalt’s house with his long -walking-staff, and, with Tybalt’s active co-operation, gave Juliet a -rather severe thrashing. Nor did the old women see any more romance in -the affair than did Capulet; and from the day when Tybalt’s suspicions -became certainties, the course of true love ran very roughly indeed. -Did poor Juliet don her newest _liku_, with a fringe nearly ten inches -long, to go wood-cutting in the hope of a stolen meeting with her -adorer, she was sure to find some old village hag dogging her steps. -Did she put on Koroisau’s old pinafore to impress Romeo on Sunday with -her superior sense of the decencies, her most sacred feelings were -sure to be harrowed in the evening by injurious remarks about her -figure, and the folly of old women trying to pass for young girls. - -Romeo, poor fellow, fared no better. He was no longer welcome in the -village of his adoption. When the yams were boiled he was not even -asked to partake of them. Some one trampled his yam-vines in the night, -and, last insult of all, Capulet’s nephew threw a stone at his pig. He -loved Juliet with a great and overwhelming passion. He did not know -why. She was not beautiful, though her mouth, it is true, was a triumph -of the tattooer’s skill; but time had over-ripened her charms, and the -lines of her youthful figure were a trifle blurred and indistinct. Yet -Romeo was quite sure in his own mind that nobody had ever loved as he -did in the world before, and Juliet returned his passion--at least she -said she did. - -Life was becoming unbearable for both of them. They could not fly -together, for whither could they fly? Romeo had once seen the sea from -the mountain-pass at Naloto, and he had heard that the water closed -in his land all round. He knew well enough that if he fled with her -to any village he had heard of, in two weeks they would be brought -back; and as for the bush, the idea of living there alone was not to be -thought of for a moment. There was one refuge. He did not know where -it was, but he knew the path that led to it, which many another had -trod before him. The white men said it was a very pleasant place if -you were a missionary, but a very hot and uncomfortable place if you -were only a mountaineer. But Romeo didn’t believe that. The spirits of -the coast natives jumped from the north-west cliffs into the sea, and -the wraiths of the old mountain chiefs lived in the thick forest--at -least so the old men said; but as no one had ever been there and come -back, how could any one know? True, the teacher said that a white man -had been there and come back, but then white men eat biscuits and -things out of tins, and have other gods, and so they probably go to a -different place. For the place Romeo was thinking of, with bitterness -gnawing at his savage heart, was Death, and the path that led to it was -_Langaingai_. - -Romeo knew all about _Langaingai_, for had not Gavindi drunk of it last -year and died, and those two Naloto girls, who smoked after drinking -it to make it doubly sure, and Janeti, Buli Nandrau’s daughter,--only -her relations poured cocoa-nut milk down her throat when she had only -traversed the path half-way? He knew not who had discovered it, for the -old men did not know it. In their day the path was always open to him -who would travel it--by an enemy’s club. Perhaps some wise woman taught -Gavindi, and showed him how to mix orange-bark with it, and smoke away -his life when he had drunk. - -[Illustration: FRIAR LAURENCE’S HOUSE.] - -Now Friar Laurence, though unconnected with the cloth, had in his -time performed the last offices to a larger number of people than any -other practitioner in the mountains. In his own person he had not -unfrequently united the offices of both sexton and grave. But that -side of his business was recreation rather than solid work. His real -calling might rank as one of the fine arts. Like the painter and the -author, his stock-in-trade was small, and easily obtained. The art lay -in employing his properties with skill. They consisted in a bamboo, a -banana-leaf, a bit of bark, a leaf or two, and a little human hair. -Furnished with these simple tools, Friar Laurence would, for the -trifling sum of a whale’s tooth, or a bolt of bark-cloth, lay low -the head on which the hair had grown. So widespread was the Friar’s -reputation that, when the mad white men had come and forbidden the -noble art of war, he had found it convenient to reside for some months -in an inaccessible mountain-cave, and had returned to Verona with his -occupation gone, and a head crammed with the wisdom born of solitary -meditation. - -To Friar Laurence then did Romeo repair one dark still night. The -wise man sat on a log at his threshold airing his shrunken legs. He -eyed Romeo’s whale’s tooth with bleared and watery eyes, and asked -enigmatically what tree he wanted felled. When he understood the -situation he seemed disappointed, and only told Romeo to return the -following night with a white man’s bottle full of the stuff they call -kerosene. This entailed a journey of thirty miles the following day to -fetch the precious liquid from the nearest store; but Romeo was ready -to do more than this, and at sunset the Friar received the bottle, a -square black one. He emptied into a cocoa-nut shell all the oil except -a wine-glassful, and filled up the bottle with an opaque muddy-looking -fluid. - -That night beneath the _tavola_-tree, where they had their tryst, did -Romeo tell Juliet that the moment for carrying out their sorrowful plan -had come. She had just been telling him that her misery was so great -that she could not bear to live longer. But when Romeo showed her in -the dim light the ominous gin-bottle, two huge cigarettes, and a box of -matches, and further whispered the dread name _Langaingai_, life seemed -suddenly to have become less unbearable than before. But Romeo was -terribly in earnest, and she, half consenting, followed him. Silently -they trod the narrow path that led to Romeo’s yam-patch. A babbling -stream bordered it, and on the bank beneath a huge banyan-tree they sat -down side by side. Juliet was weeping, but Romeo, with set face, stared -at the bottle tight clenched in his hand. Sadly he lighted one of the -cigarettes, and, handing it to Juliet, said, “You shall drink first, -and when you are dead I will drink too, and follow you. You must smoke -this as soon as you have drunk down to there,” and he indicated the -place half-way down the bottle with his thumb-nail. - -Juliet’s blood ran cold. With a little shiver she pushed the bottle -away, saying, “Be of a good mind, Aisala, and drink first, for you are -the stronger; and when you are dead it will be easy for me to die after -you.” - -But Romeo saw that she was dissembling, and that black fear filled her -heart. He gloomily drew the cork, and put the neck of the bottle to his -nose. It smelt horrible, for the kerosene was floating on the top. He -turned fiercely upon Juliet. - -“Are you going to fool me?” he cried. “Know now that you shall drink -first, that we may die together.” - -He seized her roughly by the wrist and tried to force the foul-smelling -bottle between her lips. Life had never seemed so sweet to Juliet as -at that moment. If Romeo chose to die--well, that was his affair; but -as for her--she preferred life. She struggled and screamed, and with a -bitter cry Romeo released her, and putting the bottle to his own lips -drank greedily. Seeing this, and beside herself with fear, Juliet fled -shrieking down the path to Verona, and roused the whole village with -her cries. - -“In his yam-patch,” she cried--“he is dead! He has drunk _Langaingai_.” - -All Verona was soon beneath the banyan-tree--all Verona except -Friar Laurence, who was accustomed to this kind of thing. There lay -Romeo unconscious, his head pillowed on an empty gin-bottle, with a -half-smoked _suluka_ between his nerveless fingers. Gently they lifted -him, and bore him to Capulet’s house, and lit torches, and drove out -the women, and brought young cocoa-nuts, and prised open Romeo’s jaws -with a digging-stick, and forced the milk down his throat; and all the -while the teacher sat by in a clean white shirt, bursting to question -the reviving Romeo about the details of his love affair, to draw a -moral therefrom for his next Sunday’s sermon. - -At last Romeo, half drowned in cocoa-nut milk, spluttered, coughed, -and opened his eyes. He thought perhaps for a moment that he was in -another world; but this was no time for vain regrets, for the teacher -had them in his grip, and was cross-examining the frightened Juliet as -to how many months their _liaison_ had continued. Meanwhile the village -officer arrived with a rusty pair of handcuffs, and before daylight -Romeo, but half recovered from his journey to “that bourne,” found -himself embarked on that rougher journey over the rocky path that leads -to the Tuatuacoko court-house. - -Why could not the story have ended here, with the romance all unspoilt, -with the old story of love till death, and faithless timorous beauty? -But I must tell the story to the end as it really happened, and not as -I would fain tell it. - -The Commissioner’s court sat, the assessors were sworn, the charge was -attempted suicide, the chief witness for the prosecution was Juliet, -and poor Romeo was in the dock. He was quite the ugliest man I have -ever seen--deeply pitted with smallpox, and with a mouth which, seen -full face, might have extended completely round his head for all one -could see to the contrary. The defence was ingenious. Romeo pleaded -that the people of Verona had treated him so badly that they deserved a -fright and a warning, and the alleged poison was nothing more noxious -than a decoction of orange-bark mixed in an old kerosene-bottle; -that he had drunk this off and shammed being dead until he saw the -joke had gone far enough, and that then he came to life again. The -empty gin-bottle was brought, the dregs poured into a saucer, and a -policeman was sent into the bush to bring some real _Langaingai_. It -was a slender, small-leafed plant, about eighteen inches in height, -with a fibrous woody bark. The bark was scraped in court, and kneaded -up with a little water, and strained. The result was a muddy-looking -yellow fluid. The alleged poison smelt abominably of kerosene; but the -liquids had to be compared somehow, and the assessors, one English and -one native, volunteered to furnish the vile body. The court also tried -half a teaspoonful of each. After imbibing the kerosene, one became -conscious of an acrid biting flavour, unlike any known taste. There was -no doubt that the liquids were identical. Of the after effects, I need -only say that the court adjourned, and no more evidence was taken that -day, both court and assessors spending their time in drinking cocoa-nut -milk, and trying to resume control over their interior mechanism. When -they did recover, Romeo was convicted. - - - - -THE WOMAN FINAU. - - -“The woman knows no shame, she defies the law, she despises your -orders, and she says she will never leave the white man.” - -“Then let them marry.” - -“I told her that, and she said it was not the foreigner’s wish to marry -her. But you are the Governor. It is for you to punish evil-doers. All -Vavau is ashamed because of this woman.” - -“Arrest her, then, and bring her here.” - -At sunset the chiefs had met at the ruinous wooden villa that is -the Government House. In the central hall, once gay with paint and -gilding, they sat cross-legged before the _kava_-bowl, young Laifone -the Governor in the seat of honour. And into this august assembly Ana -Finau, the abandoned contemner of public opinion and the law of the -land, was led trembling, the only woman in the room. The men stopped -talking and looked at her with hard unsympathetic faces. What pity -should they have for a countrywoman of theirs who could stoop to one -of these vile foreigners, and leave her own kind for the society of a -trader--a white man? - -The policeman who brought her told her roughly to sit down before the -Governor, who glanced at her and bade his companion continue the story -the girl’s entrance had interrupted. The chiefs who had come from a -distance asked their neighbours who the girl was, and why she had been -brought. She meanwhile sat on the floor, her feet doubled under her, -as the manner is, her eyes cast down, but with a certain dogged air of -resistance about her, as if she was prepared for the worst. - -The story was finished. From Laifone’s hearty laugh it might be guessed -that it was not over-refined, and the policeman called his attention -to Ana Finau. It was no time for business, for the _kava_ was nearly -pounded, the two kerosene-lamps were lighted, and Laifone was bored -with the cares of office. He held up his hand, and the ringing thud of -the pounding _kava_-stones ceased. - -“Ana,” he said, “they say you are living with the white man. You were -punished and told to leave him, and you have gone back.” - -The girl reached for a straw on the dirty floor, and began to dissect -it with her fingers, examining it intently. - -“Why don’t you answer?” asked the policeman, roughly. She glanced up -for a moment, and resumed her dissection of the straw. - -“It is true,” she said. - -“Why do you not marry him?” - -“That is Falani’s affair. I suppose he is not willing that we should -marry.” - -“Then you must leave him at once,” said Laifone, with the air of having -dismissed the subject, and turned to the story-teller with a question. - -The girl did not move. She had pulled her straw to pieces, and now -deliberately reached for another. She looked comely in the lamplight -which touched the clear red skin, threw deep shadows into the eyes, and -glinted through her glistening auburn curls. The _kava_-stones rang -out again, and conversation became general. The policeman touched her -arm. She shook him off impatiently, threw her head back, and looking -Laifone full in the face, said, “I shall not leave Falani.” - -There was a dead silence. The _kava_-pounder paused with stone -uplifted. Laifone stared at her, half amused and half angry. - -“You must leave him, or be punished,” he said, and muttered something -about a beautiful girl wasted. - -But the policeman was scandalised and indignant. “You impudent woman,” -he cried, “you have insulted the Governor and the chiefs. You have -no shame, and you are impudent.” Then turning to Laifone he cried, -“Is Vavau to become heathen because of this evil-minded woman? It has -become a by-word. Religion is despised because of her. We look to you, -Laifone. I pray you leave her to us, the police, to deal with her. We -will bring her to obedience.” - -“Take her away then.” - -He sprang up, seized her roughly by the arm, lifted her to her feet, -dragged her to the door, and, with a sudden jerk, pulled her whimpering -out into the darkness. A man at the back of the room followed them out. - -“A strong-minded woman,” said Laifone. “Pound the _kava_.” - -The root is pounded, kneaded in the bowl, and strained. “_Fakatau_,” -cries the presiding Matabule. Then as the cocoa-nut is filled, the man -at the bowl gives the piercing long-drawn cry, “_Kava kuo heka_,” and -as he ceases, the cry is taken up from the darkness outside--a wail of -agony. - -“Hark! what is that?” says Laifone. It comes again and ceases in -choking sobs--a woman’s voice. - -A man runs out, and in a moment returns. “It is Ana Finau,” he says; -“the police are doing something to her.” - -The wail of agony comes again, mixed with the accents of a man’s voice -in anger, and a dull sound like a blow. - -“Go and tell them to be quieter,” says the presiding Matabule; “or -stay,” he adds, “tell them to take her farther off. Don’t they know we -are drinking _kava_?” - -Franz Kraft is entertaining to-night. It is a fact to be remembered -in Vavau when one _copra_-trader spends the evening with another, -for competition is strong and the milk of human kindness watery. -There, in the mean little room at the back of the store, they sit -at the only table, which is furnished with glasses, a cracked jug, -and the inevitable square black bottle. Round the room are ranged a -number of half-emptied cases of cheap German prints and cutlery, -whose contents are piled about, to be within reach if any of the -shelves in the store should need replenishing. Franz Kraft, in a dirty -flannel shirt and trousers, unkempt, perspiring, and bibulous, is not -a fascinating-looking person, but he is prosperous and refined as -compared with his companion. They have reached the quarrelsome stage of -the evening,--anon they will be vowing eternal friendship,--and Franz -is accusing his boon companion of the heinous crime of underselling -him, and emphasising his forcible remarks with heavy blows with his -fist upon the table. It is hard to realise that this squalid ruffian, -who is content to live on fare that the forecastle of a whaler would -reject, is worth ten or twelve thousand pounds, made by his own thrift -and hard work. - -“You haf for dwenty bounds of kreen _cobra_ one shilling given, I say. -Finau, she tell me,” he cries, with emphasis born of gin. - -The door behind him opens, and a gust of wind extinguishes the -kerosene-lamp. Franz swears as he gropes for the matches. But when they -are found the lamp-funnel is too hot to hold, and the match goes out. -The boon companion slams the door to with his foot, and in doing so -stumbles against a soft body on the floor. - -“Who the h--ll is it?” he cries; “some d--d nigger. A woman, by G--d!” -he adds, as the body groans in answer to his kick. - -Franz having succeeded in lighting the lamp, turns to look at the -intruder. A woman lies face downwards on the floor sobbing. The -Englishman takes her roughly by the arm, and turns her over. - -“By G--d! Kraft, it’s Finau, and badly knocked about too! Here, you’d -better see to her. I’m off home.” - -Kraft stooped, lamp in hand, saw the torn _vala_ and the poor bruised -face, and knew who had done this, and why. But as he raised her, he -asked all the same. - -“The police,” she answered, “because I would not leave you.” - -Long after she has sobbed herself to sleep Kraft was muttering his -opinions of the police and the authorities generally in forcible -German. To-morrow he will beard the Governor Laifone, and tell him what -he thinks of him. He will take Finau away to Samoa or Fiji, where the -moral code is less strict, and she will be left in peace; for the girl -is a good girl, can cook well, can even be trusted to mind the store, -will spy on the doings of the neighbouring traders--is, in short, -necessary to him. And she is better than Hinz’s and Schulze’s women, -who have children to squall and get in the way. Besides, she will stay -with him till he takes his long-projected trip to Hamburg. When that -time comes she can go back to her relations, and the police will leave -her alone. - -But when the morrow came Kraft heard that the Government oranges were -to be sold to the highest bidder--a whole season’s crop. There is money -in it, and it will never do to quarrel with the Governor; and as for -going to Fiji or Samoa in the middle of the _copra_ season--of course -that is out of the question. Finau had told him the details of her -trial overnight, and the outrage, and she dared to hint that marriage -would shield her for the future; but Kraft was too old a bird to be -caught in such a trap as young Elliston was, for the chief object of -the coming trip to Hamburg was the carrying out of a long-cherished -scheme. He would figure in his native town as a wealthy planter, with -vast estates in the Pacific, and dazzle the eyes of some young girl -with a _dot_, then settle down as an altogether respectable character. -Of this part of the scheme Finau knew nothing. - -Christmas, with its feasting and church-going, with its stifling heat -and drowning showers, has come and gone. The oranges have turned -to gold on the trees as they were in Hesperus’s garden of old, and -are falling in thousands among the long grass, because there are -not thirsty mouths enough to suck them. The traders have bickered -and wrangled all the long season through, till they are scarcely on -drinking terms. The monthly steamer is here for her last cargo of -oranges. From dawn till sunset carts laden with the golden fruit -plough the miry roads, and the tap of the hammer nailing down the -fruit-cases is never silent. Once a-month this “sleepy hollow” of -the Pacific assumes an air of energy and bustle, and then sinks into -coma, exhausted by the effort, as the steamer glides round the point. -The fit is upon it now. The whole population is either at work or -encouraging the workers,--the girls and children pelting the men with -oranges as they sweat under the heavy cases on the wharf. All save -one. Up there in Kraft’s store, where the laughter and shouts from the -wharf are faintly echoed, a woman, half blinded by her tears, is on -her knees before an iron trunk. It is Finau learning the lesson that -men teach women,--sometimes when the skin of both is white, generally -when one is brown. She only heard last night that Falani was called -away to _papalagi_, and that one of those strange necessities that -govern the lives of white men forced him to leave her. But who knows? -All her friends prophesied that this would happen when she first came -to Falani. And there was Maata, who went to William, the white man, -because he said he would marry her; and he kept putting it off, and -then, when she had had her first child, he went to _papalagi_, saying -he would return in a month. That was six years ago. And now Falani was -going. - -If she had had a white skin, and the man did this to her, she would -perhaps have been strengthened by the sense of bitter wrong that he -could take her all, let her slave for him, and suffer for him, and -then lightly cast her aside without even the grace to take her into -his confidence till the last morning; or she would have been cast into -the black depths of despair by her utter desolation: but being only a -native woman with a brown skin, she felt neither of these, and helped -him to pack his trunk. - -Kraft himself, returning from the steamer, breaks in upon her reverie, -bustling and eager. She sees the half-concealed delight in his face, -and even that does not repel her, being, as I have said, a native with -none of the finer feelings. - -“Falani,” she says solemnly, “tell me truly why you are going. Is it -because you are weary of me, or because I have borne you no children?” - -“Ah, Finau, do not worry, or say foolish things. You know it is because -I cannot help myself, and in six months I shall be back with you, and I -shall write to you often. Do not be foolish.” - -“Falani, you will forget me,” she persists, “and marry some white -woman, as Mr Leason did. And you swore so often you would never leave -me. Only a week ago you swore it.” - -This being true is too much for his patience. - -“You will make me tire of you, Finau, if you talk foolishly, and get -angry. I have told you the truth. In six months I shall be back, and -then we will be married by the missionary--that is, if you are good, -and do not talk foolishly.” - -This has the desired effect of making Finau cry; and as even a German -_copra_-trader has a soft spot in his composition, a sudden impulse of -tenderness and remorse makes the man take her in his arms and try to -soothe away her trouble. For the moment he almost realises that this -woman has loved him as he never deserved to be loved,--that she has not -even shrunk from death itself for his sake, and that in return she only -asks him to let her go on serving him; and for all this he is about to -stab her in the back, to lie to her, to desert her. Is it too late? - -So they sit in the steamy air, laden with the hot smell of rotting -fruit, while the laughter and shouts float up to them from the wharf, -and he, half wavering, caresses her, and whispers comforting promises -into her ear. - -But the shrill whistle of the steamer pierces the air, drowning all -other sounds in its own vulgar yell. The spell is broken. Kraft has -paid his passage, and the steamer is going. All the rest is folly, born -of an over-tender heart. - -“Finau, I must go!” he cries; “give me the box, and say good-bye, or I -shall be late.” - -“_Oua leva_” (wait), she says, and running to the box under pretence -of rearranging its contents, she strips off her scented neckerchief, -and buries it among the clothes. “He shall take my shadow with him,” -she murmurs; and then turning to him, she asks him to throw his -handkerchief into the sea when the steamer sails, “to be your shadow -with me.” She is so earnest about this little superstition that, half -laughing, he promises. - -The whistle blows again, a hurried kiss, and he goes off, box on -shoulder, while she, stifling her sobs, walks wearily to the hill above -the harbour and sits down, covering her head with her _vala_. - -She sees the mate drive the crowd of natives over the gangway on to the -wharf, the hawser cast off, and she sees Falani distinctly leaning over -the rail and laughing with the other white men with whom he has just -parted. She watches him as the steamer glides down the harbour. Now he -will throw his handkerchief, and be bound irrevocably to come back to -her. Now, surely, he will throw it. What, not yet? Ah! he is waiting -till the vessel nears the point. She stands up in her eagerness. “He -must throw it,--he promised!” she cries aloud in her agony. But the -vessel is half behind the point now--a moment more and she is out of -sight--and he never threw it: so he is gone for ever, and will never -return to Finau as long as they both shall live. - -Kraft had forgotten his promise until, looking up, he saw and -recognised a lonely figure, with arms outstretched, upon the hill; -but feeling in his pocket, he found he had only one handkerchief, and -it was not worth sacrificing a good handkerchief for a silly native -superstition. - -Under the first sense of utter loneliness the sneers of her own people -were easy enough to bear. _They_ did not understand. And then, when -she had returned to the old life at Latu’s house with her own people, -living their life, sharing their interests, the sorrow faded (as sorrow -always does fade, thank heaven!), and the past became a little hazy and -unreal. It is good to be a child, or to have a brown skin, which is the -same thing, for with them time will heal in days wounds that cripple -us for years, and leave scars behind them: and so the sun shines again -as brightly as before, and the growth is not stunted. Only sometimes -at the _gatu_-board Finau’s mallet would stop beating, and her eyes -would wander away there to the point in the harbour that shuts out -the channel, with a wistful far-off look, until the woman next her, -indignant at being left to beat for both, would cry out, “The _gatu_ -[bark-cloth] is hardening while Finau is looking for Falani;” and -during the coarse laugh that followed Finau would beat the yielding -bark with ringing blows, changing her mallet from hand to hand as each -tired. - -So six months passed away. Finau had long given up asking at the -post-office for a letter when the steamer came in; and when young Beni, -the post-office clerk, threw her one at the _kava_-drinking in Latu’s -house two days after the steamer had left, she thought for a moment -there had been some mistake. Beni, with the privilege appertaining -to his office, had as usual opened it and circulated it among his -acquaintances for the two days that had intervened since the arrival -of the mail; but being in some white man’s language, his curiosity was -still ungratified. Finau thrust it into the bosom of her _kofu_, and -contained her soul in patience until the morning. She was at Müller’s -door before he was up next morning. After he had promised inviolable -secrecy the German letter was produced, read, and translated into -dog-Tongan, while Finau sat on the floor with glistening eyes. The joke -was altogether too good for Müller to keep to himself, promise or no -promise, and before evening all in Vavau who cared to know, whether -white or brown, were duly made aware that Franz Kraft could not live -without Finau,--that though his body was in Germany his heart was in -Vavau,--and that though the German ladies of high degree all made love -to him, yet none was so beautiful as Finau, and he was adamant to them. -The whole effusion did great credit to Kraft’s wit; and the best of the -joke was that Finau swallowed it all, including the paragraph about -his tearing himself away from Hamburg because he could not bear the -separation any longer, only the chiefs in Hamburg would not let him -go for some inscrutable reason of their own. Truly Franz Kraft was a -most humorous fellow. The one sentence Müller did not translate was a -heading, in execrable Tongan, that she was to get the drunken Wilhelm -Kraft, Franz’s brother, to read the letter, and on no account to take -it to Müller or any one else. - -But what cared Finau that the contents of her letter were public? They -might laugh as they would--her husband had not forgotten her: he was -coming back to marry her, and she would toil for him all her days, and -be happy. Next month would come another letter to say he was starting, -and in three months more he would be here. Ah, those months would be so -easy to live through now! She gravely dictated to the delighted Müller -an answering love-letter. She never ceased to think of him; and she -had had no rest since he went; and would the good God guard him, and -bring him safely back to her,--a very tame composition beside Kraft’s -love-letter, but as Müller never sent it, the lack of style was of no -consequence. - -But the letter that should have come by the next steamer must doubtless -have been lost in the post; or perhaps Kraft was starting, and did not -think it worth while to write. Another mail, and still no letter. Ah! -it is now clear. Poor Falani must be ill. The old letter was getting -quite worn out now, from being carried in the bosom and slept on at -night, but the writing was still visible through the oil-stains. It -certainly did look shaky,--yes, decidedly Falani must be ill. - -And then the third steamer came, and Beni said there was no letter. -That evening brother Wilhelm paid Latu a visit, three sheets in the -wind, as was usual with him at that time of night. He wanted Finau; -he was labouring with a message for Finau. She is fetched from the -cook-house. The difficulty is to find words for the message to Finau, -for the message requires “breaking gently,” and it is difficult to -break news gently under the influence of gin. - -“Finau,” hiccoughs brother Wilhelm, “Falani has written. He told me -to tell you--he is married.” The instructions were to break the news -gently, and having carried them out to the satisfaction of his own -conscience, brother Wilhelm takes himself to where the bottles are -square and black, and the night may be profitably spent. - -Far from the haunts of men there is a place where none dare to come -alone. The land sloping up from Neiafu is broken here in a great -precipice, against whose feet the mighty ocean-rollers, unchecked by -any reef, break ceaselessly with a dull roar, making the overhanging -rocks tremble a thousand feet above them. Landwards Haafulu Hao, with -its myriad islets, is spread out like a map; seawards is nothing but -the sleepless ocean meeting the blue sky. Thither the dead are brought -to sleep in their white graves, untroubled by the living; thither go -the poets of the _lakalaka_ for inspiration; thither go the girls of -Halaufuli for flower-garlands, but not alone, for the spirits of the -dead roam among the rocks of Liku, and must be scared away by numbers. -Jutting out from the precipice is a single shaft of rock round which, -even in calm weather, a furious wind eddies. With a good head one may -climb out to this pinnacle, and, holding on firmly, see nothing between -his feet and the foaming surf a thousand feet below. - -There was a faint light in the western horizon where the moon had set. -The stars were veiled by fleecy clouds--only where Venus hung low in -the sky, casting a silver trail over the sea, was the night clear. -The strong south-east trade-wind was turning cold, as it does before -dawn, and Finau, breathless from her unconscious journey, instinctively -wrapped her _vala_ round her shoulders. As she ran from the shelter -of the roaring palms on to the cliff’s edge, the thunder of the surf -made the rock on which she stood tremble, and the south wind, wet -with spray, drenched her with tiny particles of water. The path ended -here: it was only used for the last journey of the dead, who slept -all around her in their shrouds of white sand glistening in the dim -starlight. The sight of the precipice before her brought reflection to -her maddened brain. She was on the Liku where the spirits are, and at -night, when the spirits oftenest are abroad. But she felt no fear now, -for a sudden thought had taken possession of her. She remembered how, -not many months since, Laubasi, the beauty of Neiafu, had disappeared; -how they had searched for her, following the girlish footprints in -the muddy path; how Palu the fisherman had crept down the cliff-face -at Anamatangi, and seen far below him a body lying on a rocky ledge; -how at first it was thought that she had been swept down by the furious -wind that roars across the cave’s mouth in all weathers, boisterous or -calm, until the body was brought back, and then the women gave another -reason--for Laubasi was a Wesleyan class-leader, much regarded for her -character, and in a month or two that would have been gone had she -lived. The Anamatangi was scarce half a mile from where Finau stood. -With set purpose in her dark face she walked quickly along the narrow -path, hedged in by overhanging trees that led along the edge of the -cliff. In half a mile she emerged upon a grassy plain sloping down -towards Neiafu, whence in the daytime the thousand isles of Haafulu -Hao could be seen as in a map. Here she turned seawards, and passed -down a stony narrow path among the trees. The path became narrower and -steeper, then rose a little, and suddenly Finau found herself standing -upon a razor edge of rock, the apex of a buttress jutting many feet -beyond the main cliff, whose base had been worn away by the surf of -ages. - -It was too dark to see below, but as every long roller crashed into -the caves at the cliff’s base the pinnacle trembled, and she knelt, -grasping the rugged moss with her fingers. Only not to think--not -to think of what she had come here to do,--not to think of what lay -below her in the darkness,--not to think of what was beyond if she -passed the gate! She remembered Paula’s sermon when Laubasi’s fate -was known,--how he described her burning in the flames, as if he had -been there to see; but he had said that of so many people, and Falani -said it was all an invention of the missionaries to make the people -give them money. How white, how still and restful, those graves had -seemed, in one of which Laubasi lay; but how the sharp-pointed rocks -must have torn her flesh when she fell! It must have been a worse agony -than the police inflicted, and that was too much to bear! So she lay -face downward on the rocky pinnacle, her courage waning, filled with -despair, and with a terror that was worse than despair. The east turned -grey, and the morning star was quenched by the growing light which -flecked the sea with foaming wave-tops, unseen till now. And with the -dawn the wind grew stronger, till it would have been unsafe for Finau -to stand up, even if she would. The face of the cliff, too, behind her -became visible, and she saw with terror the dangers of the path she had -traversed by the dim light of the stars. One false step and her body -would have fallen down there, where ledge upon ledge and pinnacle upon -pinnacle of grey limestone-rock are half hidden by ferns and creepers, -as the thorns of the _matolu_ are hidden by its velvet leaves, and -beneath all a white hell of roaring waters. - -As the light grew, she saw in the face of the precipice behind her a -black hole large enough to admit the body of a man. To reach it one -must creep along a ledge, slanting from the place where she lay. This -was the cave of the winds, into which only Tubou the fleet-footed had -penetrated, and Lolohea, who, tradition said, had fled when Feletoa -was taken, and who, after peace was made, still dwelt in the wild -Liku, communing with the spirits, and accumulating wisdom. It was on -this very spot he stood when King Finau’s men brought him to bay till -their chief should speak with him; and it was here that he was offered -lands, slaves, and the choice of the fairest maidens of Vavau, only -to refuse them for the solitude of this awful place. The wind was -increasing in force, and it boomed across the mouth of the cave like -a great organ-pipe. In the lulls a hollow roar seemed to come from the -very bowels of the island. Somewhere far below the great ocean-rollers -poured in, driving the imprisoned air through the mouth with terrific -force. Surely no living man could dare the feats of those old heroes of -tradition? - -No! Death in such a place, and in such a way, were too horrible, and -Finau, trembling and weak, looked round for a way of escape. The ridge -she had crossed was now vibrating like a tense wire. She tried to rise, -clinging to the rotten fern with her hands, and nearly lost her balance -in a sharp gust of wind. It was hopeless. So she must die after all! -And she lay there, dazed and bewildered, with all other desire gone but -that of living. - - * * * * * * * - -“Here is the woman Finau. Her mind is foolish, but I have brought her -back alive. Take better care of her, lest we of the Liku be again -obliged to save her and carry her these four miles. Next time she goes -to the cave of the winds she will fall perhaps where Laubasi did, and -then we shall have to bury your dead.” - -Finau’s uncle is awakened by a pinch on the leg, and goes out sulkily -into the darkness with the man to where his cart stands. The jolting -over the stony roads from Halaufuli has wakened Finau from her stupor, -and she talks wildly and incoherently as her helpless body is lifted -from the cart and laid on the mats near the lamp. - -“The police will come to ask questions, for they stopped me as I was -coming. I don’t want to get into trouble, so I shall go.” The cart -rumbles away into the night. - -It is weary work tending Finau week after week, for there are limits -even to the claims of kinship. A relation may be ill and helpless for -a week, or even two, and who would complain? But when it passes into -months, and the relation has fits of blind anger, and talks foolishly, -and is ungrateful, who can be blamed for wishing to get rid of her? -Thus reasoned Ana, Finau’s aunt by marriage, after the manner of her -kind, and not being ashamed of her opinions, she gave them to all -Neiafu, including John Mason, the drunken carpenter, a grass-widower -three times deep. And when Ana understood that there was a vacancy in -the Mason household, and that the householder himself had had great -difficulty in supplying the vacancy, she enlarged upon the charms and -attractions of Finau,--her washing and ironing, her cooking, and her -undoubted experience in providing for the comfort of a husband overcome -with nocturnal convivialities. To Finau, in Mason’s absence, she made -returning life a burden. It is better to die than to lie weak and -helpless, eating food grudgingly given, and sheltered by an unfriendly -roof. And after each of Mason’s friendly visits Ana would say, “Why -does he come here? Why? because he desires you, of course! I heard him -say that your face was beautiful, and that he wanted you to live with -him. Drunken? Not more than Falani or the other white men, and when he -is drunk he would not ill-treat you. Used to beat Mele, did he? Ah, -that was another of Mele’s lies! She was always seeking an excuse to -leave him, because she liked Lavuso better. No. Jone Mesoni was not the -man to beat his wife unless she deserved it, and even then not hard -with a stick, but with his hand!” - -And so at last, when one evening Mason came with a bigger _kava_-root -than usual, and took his bowl from Finau’s hands, and stayed after the -others had gone, she, feeling bitter anger in her heart towards the -man, but a greater bitterness towards the relations who drove her from -their door, would resist no more. Mason wasted no time over courtship. -He crawled over to where she sat, and roughly threw his arm round her -in the presence of them all. She pushed him away with a gesture of -disgust. - -“Finau,” he said, in a voice broken with vinous emotion, “it is well -that we should live together. You will come to my _abi_ to-morrow?” - -Finau sat with her face hidden in her hands, but Ana, the matchmaker, -answered for her. - -“Yes. I will bring her before mid-day, so that she may prepare dinner.” - - * * * * * * * - -The steamer is in again from New Zealand. After the miscellaneous crowd -of natives from the southern islands have disembarked, and sniffed and -wept over their friends of Vavau, there is a flutter of excitement -among the onlookers. - -“_Dies kann doch nicht Franz Kraft sein, Pots Tausend! was für -ein eleganter Herr!_” cries Karl Müller; for lo! Franz Kraft, the -dishevelled, the disreputable, shaved, transfigured, and glorified in -a black coat and billycock hat, silver-mounted walking-stick in hand, -is there. And more than this, Franz Kraft is leading a lady over the -gangway, for all the world as if he were handing her out of a tram-car -at the Thiergarten-gate His old boon companions whisper together in -derisive curiosity as Franz, affecting not to see them, paces the -wharf with dignity, his companion on his arm. She, poor thing, makes a -curious figure against the palm-trees and white sand--for black satin, -white cotton stockings, and German hats do not go well with palm-trees. - -She was looking timidly and wonderingly at the mean iron-roofed houses -that line the beach, for the cunning Franz had crammed her flaxen head -with pictures of South Sea splendour, in which Neiafu appeared as a -city, and Franz himself as a benevolent planter of great possessions. -Of her future home Franz had been reticent, but she had formed a -mental picture of a mansion she had seen in a printseller’s window in -the _Unter den Linden_, all colonnades, and cool palms, and haunted -by numbers of dusky servants. The city must be farther inland, she -thought, as they passed up the beach. They were opposite a tumble-down -wooden house, larger than the rest. It might be, she thought, a small -_wirthhaus_, where they drank beer in the back garden. She timidly -asked Franz. “It’s the king’s house,” he answered roughly. Surely he -must be joking, for he had told her so much about the king’s palace, -and the soldiers, and the rest of it. Yes; certainly Franz must be -joking, for her great strong Franz could make jokes sometimes. - -A few steps more, and Franz stopped--stopped at the meanest hovel of -them all,--a rickety wooden cottage, with iron roof, perched above the -sea, without even a tree to give shade or a fence to hide its ugly -squalor from the road. Telling her to wait, he went to the next cottage -and returned with a key. She was speechless with astonishment and a -vague fear. The door swung back, and he beckoned her to follow. Within -was a damp, ill-smelling, little shop, with dirty stained counter, -and shelves tenanted only by a few rusty tins of meat. Beyond this a -small unceiled room, furnished with a bare deal-table, and dirty like -the shop; and beyond this again a room containing a canvas stretcher, -overhung by a rotting mosquito-screen. That was all, and the all was -pervaded by the sickening rancid smell of _copra_, and unspeakably -dirty. The windows showed a large iron shed in which _copra_, the -currency of the country, was stored. This was the home he had brought -her to! And away there in Berlin her father, the stationer, was still -boasting of the brilliant marriage she had made. - -It took two days for Franz to appear in his usual oily shirt-sleeves at -the counter, and he did not respond to the inquiries about his wife. -Thenceforth she became a person of mystery, for she was not seen at -all for two months; and when she did leave the house, there were lines -about the meaningless mouth, and the blue eyes were dull and red. Franz -now ventured on his first social entertainment. The guests were bidden, -and Franz, in a clean shirt, received them in the sitting-room,--nine -in all, including the two ladies of the place. There was an awkward -pause, for Frau Kraft had not appeared. Then Franz went into the -bedroom to bring their hostess. There was a whispered altercation, then -silence, then a burst of sobbing--and before he returned his guests had -all fled. Not even the faithful Müller stayed to break the square black -bottle that was to have been the gist of the entertainment. Scandal was -now satisfied, for it was evident that Franz did not get on with his -wife, and was not above striking her. - -But the _copra_ season had begun, and Kraft, if he would live, must -buy _copra_ like the rest. Early one morning he started with his -wife for Halaufuli, where Fisher, a friendly rival, had a station. -Fisher’s house adjoined John Mason’s modest establishment. The Krafts -were given the only bedroom in the house--a long low room, in which -a platform filling up the end and covered with a pile of mats and a -mosquito-screen formed the bed. - -When Mason, the man who could not beat his wife, steered an oblique -course towards his door, stumbled in, and, being a little less drunk -than usual, succeeded in finding his walking-stick, he was at that -stage of inebriation when the punishment of somebody for something -seems to a man a solemn and sacred duty. Unluckily poor Finau had -heard him coming, and ran to his rescue. He fell upon her savagely. -Her shrieks broke through the wooden walls, and interwove themselves -with Kraft’s dreams. Suddenly he hears his own name, and starts from -his sleep to listen to a voice he knows crying in an agony of need. It -is Finau calling to him, and without thinking where he is, he springs -up to go to her rescue. A blow or two directed by the dim light of the -kerosene lamp disposes effectually of Mason, and Franz, furious with -anger, yet not knowing what to do, creeps back to his room. His wife -is still asleep, as he can hear by her regular breathing; but Finau -has followed him, and whimpering she creeps into the room, and leans -sobbing against the wall. What could he do--this man who has so injured -her? She had loved him and suffered for him. Was he to cast her out -when she came to him in her need? And what harm was there in protecting -her? He whispers to her not to be afraid and to stop crying, but she -only sinks to the ground and sobs the louder. When he speaks again she -creeps towards him, as if in bodily fear of the man who has been left -outside the door. Franz looks at the screen: his wife still sleeps. And -so he speaks to her in a low voice, and strokes her bowed head, and -she, in the abandonment of her wretchedness, puts her arm round him. -And as he murmurs comforting words to her in her own tongue, he chances -to look towards the bed where the dim light is burning, and as he looks -there is a movement, a hand from within lifts up the screen, and eyes -with a life’s tragedy written in them look out at him. - - - - -IN THE OLD WHALING DAYS. - - -I. - -In those days, sir, there were no white men, living on Kandavu, but -many whaling-ships used to come and lie at anchor for months at a time. -Run away? Why, the crews always ran away. We used to persuade them -to run away by means of our women, and then we caught them, and tied -their hands, and hid them in the forest until a reward was paid by -the captain--a musket sometimes, and many knives and axes. They were -not white men like you, sir, but they had dark skins like the Indian -interpreter, and came from a land called “Portugee.” These men were -very wicked; but there were others with them with blacker skins who -were less wicked: their place was only to serve the rest and prepare -food. Yes, some of us used to sail away with them--some from curiosity -because they wished to see other lands, and others because the chiefs -sent them, being persuaded with great rewards. - -It was with Captain Aneli that I first sailed. We went hence to -Vatulele, my mother’s island, and lay there several weeks, helping the -Vunisalevu against Korolamalama, by lending him muskets and powder, -and by sailing round to the rocky point, where we shot many as they -fled from their enemies on the land. Ah, the captain was a good man, -and the Vunisalevu loved him well! No; he asked for no reward, but -did this out of his great love for the Vunisalevu, whose brother the -people of Korolamalama had killed. You may see the site of the town -away here among the caves at the western point; but do not go there, -sir, at night or alone, for the spirits that dwell there hate white men -as they hate us. The people are all gone, except the women, of whom my -mother was one, for they were more numerous than we; and when Captain -Aneli would go, the Vunisalevu strove to detain him, lest, when he was -gone, they should take their revenge. But the white man was wise, and -imparted to us his Wisdom, saying, “Invite them to a feast and slay -them;” and the Vunisalevu, knowing that conquerors do not make feasts -for the conquered, sent a messenger bidding them plant bananas for -him. But they were afraid, and answered that they would send all their -bananas and yams rather than come themselves, and with their answer was -brought a whale’s-tooth to turn the chief’s heart. But he refused the -tooth, and sent again, saying that it was not meet to suspect plots in -time of peace, and that he would pledge their safety, for they might -come armed while he and his people would be without weapons, but would -peacefully bring up the feast as hosts should do to guests. - -And when the appointed day came, the captain pitied him, and landed -thirty men, who hid among the bushes where you see those _ivi_-trees, -and the Korolamalama men came, two hundred strong, each with his -bundle of young banana-shoots, his spear in his left hand, and his -throwing-club in his girdle. None were left behind, for they feared -lest, if they were divided, we might attack them. As for us, we were -hidden in the undergrowth along the path, our arms hidden near us where -we could find them; and for the feast we had brought a rotten _taro_ -each in derision of our enemies, who were to die that day. We would -have set on them at once, but the white men said, “Not so, let them -first plant your bananas, so that they be wearied, and you will have -made use of them as long as they can be useful.” This wise counsel -pleased us; so we waited, and even came unarmed to look at the men -as they sweated beneath the sun, digging the holes and stamping the -earth round the shoots, each man with his spear stuck in the ground -behind him: and as we watched we saw that, when a man moved on to dig a -fresh hole, he first moved his weapon to the new place. And as the sun -dipped towards the west, slanting the black shadows of the _ivi_-trees -across the clearing, we went for our _taro_ and heaped it ceremoniously -beneath the shade of the trees, and sat down to present it to them. And -they, seeing us unarmed, were ashamed to bring their spears with them, -for it is forbidden by our customs to receive the feast with arms. So -they left their spears, each man where he had been digging, and came -and sat before us. And while they sat with their backs to the clearing, -the boys crept among the newly planted bananas as if playing, and took -their spears, heaping dead grass upon them so that they could not be -seen. Then Mavua the herald took a decayed root of _yangona_, and going -forward, presented it and the feast in the customary words, and their -herald came forward to touch the feast. But when he took the root and -saw that it was rotten, and touched the _taro_ and knew that it was -decayed, he was speechless a moment in fear and anger, for the insult -was very gross. Then he leapt to his feet, crying, “A plot! a plot! we -are undone to-day.” And they sprang up to go for their spears. But we -had snatched up ours already, and were upon them, stabbing and spearing -them as they dodged among the bananas looking for their spears. - -But when they saw that they were gone, the herald uttered a great and -bitter cry, cursing us and bidding them follow him, and he ran for the -forest towards the west where Korolamalama lies; but there he met the -white men, and from the tree came the thunder of the muskets and the -bark of the little guns, and cries, and evil words, and a thick smoke, -while we lay on our faces in the clearing hearing the bullets scream -over our heads. And when some of them ran back to escape the guns, we -stabbed at them, smiting some, and driving some back again to the white -men, so that when all was done, only one was left alive of them all, -and he, being found hiding in a water-hole, was dragged out and led to -the beach among the boys, and Uluisau held his arms while the boys beat -him to death with their toy clubs. - -Then the bodies were dragged to the town. To be eaten? How should I -know, when I was sent with the others to Korolamalama to fetch the -women and children? And when we neared the place they thought that we -were their own men returning from the banana-planting, and they came -out to meet us. But the two who saw us first ran shrieking to the -others, and Butho, he who held the basin at the missionary collection -last Sunday, followed close after them, making signs to us to keep -unseen. And he deceived the women, saying that their chief had sent -him to bid them bring crabs and yams to him in the plantation (for -they had just come from fishing on the reef). But they, still doubting -him, half followed and half held back, until they reached the thicket -where we lay. Then Amori, whose husband we had slain, raised a great -uproar, crying to the others to flee, for there was treachery; and -they scattered into the bush, screaming like a flock of paroquets. -But Butho, who feared nothing, flung his _ula_ at the woman Amori and -struck her on the back so that she fell on her face, and he slew her -with his club where she lay, and we others pursued the women, striking -down the elderly, who made the greatest uproar, and saving the young -girls alive. These we led with the children to the Vunisalevu. - -Did they weep? No; they dared not weep, for Butho, the fearless, -who led us, told them that she who first wept aloud should die; and -thereafter, when Ina, the daughter of Naikele, lifted up her voice, he -struck her on the mouth with his short throwing-club. Ah! she was never -called “Ina the beautiful” more, for her teeth were all broken, and -her nose crushed, so that no man desired her as before, and she became -a kitchen-woman, and carried firewood for the chief’s kitchen all her -days. So the women feared to weep aloud lest Ina’s fate should befall -them. - -[Illustration: “_Nothing now remains of Korolamalama but the name and a -few mounds._”] - -Ah, it was a great victory! Nothing now remains of Korolamalama but -the name and a few mounds. Therefore the Vunisalevu was very glad, -knowing that the right was triumphant, and that vengeance could -never come again from Korolamalama. The white man? Oh, he was very -grateful to them of course, for they had helped him out of their great -love for him, and they asked for no reward, nor would they take one -when it was offered to them--neither oil, nor mats, nor timber, nor -anything of value. The captain was a good man, not like the white men -of this day, who will cheat their own fathers for the sake of gain, -but a generous man and a right-doer. His crew, perhaps, were wicked -men, for they swore much and fought among themselves, so that we all -feared them. What? How many times must I tell you that the captain -wanted no reward? Nay, more, for as the women of Korolamalama were -many, and food was scarce at the time, he offered to take some away; -and the chief bade him come and choose from among them, and he came -at night with four of his sailors. And all the women were brought to -the chief’s house trembling, for they thought that evil was to befall -them as the others. And the captain took a lantern and held it in the -face of each in turn, taking hold of any that shrank back. And when he -had seen all, he pointed to Sili and to Manana and to Latia, as the -three whom he had chosen. And we were all surprised, for we thought -that he would have chosen strong women who would work; but those he -had pointed to were young maidens, children, and useless for work. The -first two were the daughters of the woman Kurulawa, who stood by, and -of low rank, but Latia was a chief’s daughter, and beautiful. But when -the Vunisalevu told them they were to go with the white man, and the -sailors came to take them, they cried aloud to the men to save them, -and the other women caught them in their arms and wept, so that there -was a very great uproar. But the sailors shook them all off except the -woman Kurulawa, and her they struck, so that she fell upon the mats. -Then they bound the hands of the three girls with ropes, and put pieces -of wood in their mouths, and so stopped their cries--for one could not -hear the other speak for the noise they made when they knew that the -white men would take them. - - * * * * * * * - -I wonder where those women are now, if they be still alive! They were -not on board when Captain Aneli came back the next year, and I forgot -to ask him about them. - - -II. - -Ah, the white men of that day were braver than the white men who live -among us now--be not angry, sir, if I say this--and Captain Aneli was -the bravest of them all! Many great deeds he did in these seas besides -the burning of Korolamalama and the slaughter of its people. I sailed -eighteen months with him, and saw much fighting, not only upon the land -but upon the sea also--among ourselves who sailed together. But Captain -Aneli was fearless, and we all dreaded him after he slew the big white -man and the Portugee who rebelled against him, and had flogged the -Indian who prepared the food until he died. He loved me well, and gave -me great gifts, teaching me to shoot with the little gun, and bidding -me be always near him lest the evil-minded among the crew should again -rebel against him. But when we reached New Zealand, and had been at -anchor but two days, a man came from the shore and seized my captain, -binding his wrists with iron fastenings that snapped to like the lock -of a musket; and he was led away, shouting many evil words, and I saw -him no more. I know not why this was done, but the man must have been -one of the captain’s enemies and evil-minded, for he was a just man -and brave. - -And yet not all the captains of those days were like him, for there -were some who were faint-hearted, like the white men of to-day, who -think more of the love of women than of war, and whose hearts are -weakened like a missionary’s. With such a one did I sail as I will -relate. - -After the captain was taken away we left the ship and dispersed, each -going his own way; and I, with Tom the Manila man and others, drank -white men’s _yangona_ in a house by the shore till we were intoxicated, -and there was fighting and much anger. I do not know what we did until -I awoke in the prison-house. Then I was taken before a chief, who -judged me and awarded my punishment. But a man who stood by asked me -whether I would sail with him if he released me from punishment, and -I, not knowing what would be my punishment by the laws of these white -men, and fearing to be flogged, besought him to set me free. So he -paid money to the judge, who thereupon looked with favour on him and -ordered me to be set at liberty. He was the captain of a two-masted -ship, about to sail to the lands of these seas to exchange cloth and -knives and axes for oil and the weapons of the place. And on the day -we hove the anchor a white woman came on board, who was his wife, and -sailed with him. He was a good man, this captain, but his mind was -like a missionary’s, and he was not skilled in the ways of the sea. He -had a large Bible which he was always reading in the cabin, while the -woman lay sick in her bunk; and he often said to me--for by this time I -had begun to understand his talk--“This is my compass and my anchor.” -And once when he said this the mate was near, who, being a godless man -but a good sailor, said, so that the captain might hear, “It would be -better for the ship if he steered by the compass on board.” - -Now the crew were like other white sailors, evil-minded, and lovers -of forbidden words and strong drink. And even when there was no drink -they would fight among themselves, but they all feared the mate, who, -when giving orders, spoke but once, and instead of a second word -smote, sometimes with a belaying-pin but oftenest with his naked fist, -and that was the worst, for his arm was thick and knotted as yon -_dilo_-tree, and with his fist he could have split this rock. But me he -did not smite, because I honoured him and did his bidding cheerfully; -nay, he even loved me, both for this and because my skin was black and -I was a stranger, helpless, and without friends. He was a good sailor -this mate, and often in the night when I was in his watch he would -tell me stories of his cruises in the whale-ships, and I would tell -him tales of blood from my own land. But he never spoke of the sea -without contemptuous words towards the captain, whom he held to be no -sailor but a missionary, accursed among sailors, and less than a man. -He despised him, too, that he sailed with a woman, not being like the -mate and other good sailors, who held women as fit only for the shore, -and had a wife at every port to which they sailed. And I, too, hearing -this, despised the captain in my heart, most of all when I saw how he -subjected himself to the woman, as no man should do, and tended her as -only slaves and low-born do, and they unwillingly. But for all this he -was kind to me and did me many services, giving me from the cabin food -in tin boxes, such as none other in the ship might taste but he and the -woman. - -All this time we were sailing northwards, the wind being south-east but -light. And the air grew warm, and the spirit-light flashed in our wake -at night, and the flying-fish, the birds of Nukuloa, took wing under -our bows, and my heart grew light in the warm air, for I knew we were -approaching my own land where only it is fit for man to live. We had -left behind us the bitter winds that chill the marrow, and the sterile -palmless shores, where men hurry ceaselessly to and fro, never resting -but toiling ever, and the heart is filled with darkness and disgust of -life and a great longing for rest. But though my heart was glad because -I should soon be in that sweet land and see the green yam-vines, -graceful as fair women in the dance, the captain became sorrowful, for -the woman whom he tended was now sick, and for many days we had not -seen her face, though we knew by his looks day by day that she grew -worse. - -And on the day when the sea-birds first circled the ship, the wind -being still fair but falling light, the mate ordered the sailor they -called Bill--him with the red beard--to go aloft and shake out the -topsail, which was furled; but he not moving quickly, but with murmurs -and unwillingly, the mate spoke angrily to him, saying, “Goddam!” -many times, and other evil words. Then the sailor turned back and -struck the mate, calling upon the others to come and help him; for he -was a sort of leader among them, through his quarrelsome nature and -unwillingness to render due obedience to his chiefs. But the others -stood as if uncertain, wishing to slay the mate, and yet afraid. And -as he continued calling upon them, two of the crew joined him, and -drove the mate against the cook-house, where he stood striking at them, -for he was very strong. Then Bill took the cook’s axe that stood near -and lifted it to strike, and I ran to help the mate, whom I loved. -But before I could reach him another passed me very swiftly and flung -himself upon Bill, as a falcon seizes a _sese_, and strove with him -a moment till both fell heavily upon the deck and rolled, so that -Bill was underneath straining for breath, as the other had him by the -throat. Then I wondered greatly, for I saw that he who had done this -was the captain, whose body was thin and light like the body of a cat, -and Bill was like a _bulumokau_ for bulk. And when the two others saw -what had befallen Bill they retreated towards the forecastle; but the -mate followed them, striking them with his fists so that they went -down the hatchway as a man who dives for turtle, their feet following -them. But when we turned back the captain was gone to his cabin, and -Bill was still lying on the deck gasping for breath. And that night -when it was my watch the mate came and sat with me near the wheel, for -the night was clear and calm, and I was steering. He did not speak -contemptuously of the captain, but wonderingly, as if he had suddenly -become another whom he did not know. And while we still talked a sound -came through the cabin skylight near us as of a woman’s voice, and of a -man weeping. And then the weeping of the man drowned the voice of the -woman, which was weak, and we both knew it for the captain’s voice, -and the mate got up and went forward saying no word. But my heart was -filled with a great contempt for the captain, since I hold it great -shame for a man to weep. And a little later the wind died away, and the -sails struck the mast with a noise like musketry, and then filled and -struck again with the breath of the dying wind, and then hung loose -from the yards as dead vines hang from the limbs of the _damanu_-tree; -for even the swell was calm, so that both the air and the restless sea -were dead, and the ship lay under the stars as still as a canoe left -on the sands by the ebbing tide. And when the bell had struck one, and -the dawn was near, I lay upon the hatchway wishing for sleep. And -suddenly there was a terrible cry, so that we all started up asking -ourselves whence it came and what it meant, for it was not the voice -of a man but of some fierce animal. Then it came again, and we knew -that it came from the cabin, and was the captain’s voice, but changed -as the voice of a man whose senses have left him. And when it came a -third time the mate said that the woman must be dead, for the captain’s -voice was changed by grief, and he was calling the name of the woman, -who would never answer him more. But after the third time the cry did -not come again, but only a low moaning, continuously, as I have heard a -man make after the battle when he has been clubbed, but his senses have -returned to him, and he knows that they who are taking him are heating -the oven for his body. And when the sun rose no wind came to fill the -sails and cool the air. And beside the ship lay her image, complete to -the last rope, as clear as in those glasses the traders sell to the -women. And as the sun rose higher the sky turned to iron, and the sea -threw back the brightness so that it burned the eyes; and the pitch -grew wet in the seams and scorched the bare feet, gluing them to the -deck. And we lay under the shadow of the masts and sails panting for -breath. Only the sailmaker worked, making a hammock for the body of the -woman. And all the while the moaning in the cabin never ceased, even -for a moment. And when the sun was overhead, all things being prepared, -the mate went to the cabin with the sailmaker. And we heard blows upon -the cabin-door, and the captain was loudly called; but however loudly -they knocked or called, when they ceased they still heard the moaning, -mingled with broken words. So the mate came to us again, saying that he -would wait until eight bells, and then force the door, for the weather -was hot and the matter could not be delayed. But when eight bells were -struck, the moaning still continuing, the mate called me, and I took -the hammock and followed him down the companion. And the mate called -loudly and struck upon the door. Then we listened and heard the voice -as of one who sleeps and dreams evil dreams. Then stepping back, the -mate ran upon the door, striking it heavily with his shoulder, and the -door burst in, and the mate fell forward with the door into the cabin. -And I, looking in, saw a foolish sight, for the captain was sitting -on the floor of the cabin and had the body of the woman clasped in -his arms as a mother holds her suckling child. And the woman was an -ill sight, for she was axe-faced, like all the white women, and the -flesh had left her face in her sickness, and being dead the eyes stared -upward and the jaw had fallen. Yet for all this the captain, not seeing -us, kissed the dead face as is the white man’s fashion with the lips, -and moaned unceasingly. Then the mate touched him and spoke, but he -seemed not to know him, and his eyes became fierce, and he cried to -us to leave him. Seeing that we could do nothing without using force, -we left him for that night. But when the morning came and there was -still no wind, the mate again bade me follow him, and called to him -also the carpenter and the boatswain, and we four entered the cabin and -found him sitting as before, only quieter, but the woman’s face was -much changed. And the mate spoke brave words to the captain, bidding -him have courage and allow the woman’s body to be buried. And when he -understood why we had come, and saw the hammock, he became like a wild -sow who is wounded with a spear and turns to protect her young ones. -Even so he turned to defend the body of the woman. But the mate seized -him, and, with the help of the carpenter, held him fast, while we -dragged the body from him. But so changed was it that it would not go -into the hammock. So we carried it on deck out of his sight, while he -struggled with the others, and the sailmaker ripped the hammock and -sewed it up in haste, enclosing a shot at the feet. And when all was -ready we carried it amidships and laid it on a grating, with a flag -over it, and the mate nailed up the captain’s door lest he should do -some fearful thing. Then the mate said some sacred words,--not many, -for he could remember only a few,--and the men, being impatient lest -ill-luck should befall the ship, threw up the grating and the body -splashed into the sea, breaking the image of the ship into a thousand -pieces. But scarcely had it sunk when it sprang up again as if alive, -and most of the sailors fled in fear thinking it to be alive. But the -mate, knowing the cause, cried that the shot was not heavy enough -seeing that the body was much swollen. He shouted to us to pierce the -hammock quickly to make the body sink. So a boat was lowered, and as -no other would do it, I was sent with a sharp boat-hook to pierce the -hammock. Now the body had drifted a few fathoms from the ship, and -still danced up and down upright and immersed from the waist downwards. -And as the boat drew near, and I stood up in the bows, I thought I saw -the axe-face grinning at me through the canvas, and drawing away from -me, so that I almost feared to strike lest it still lived. Then one of -the sailors in the boat cried, “It is alive and will drown us!” and -I held my hand in terror lest I should strike a live woman. But the -mate cried from the ship, “Strike!” and I turned and saw that the ship -was turning so that we were nearly opposite the cabin window, and the -mate and all the sailors were beckoning to me to strike quickly. Then -courage came to me, and standing up in the boat I struck at the woman -with the boat-hook as a man strikes at his enemy with a spear, but as -I struck, the woman only danced up and down the more, rocking to and -fro, so that I could not strike hard to pierce the canvas. Then one of -the men in the boat laughed to see the woman dance up and down so, and -I laughed too, so that my arm became weak. But the mate cried to me -again, and I balanced myself as a harpooner does before he strikes the -whale, and as I balanced the boat-hook I turned and saw that the ship -had swung so that we were opposite the cabin windows. Then with all my -force I threw the boat-hook into the soft body and drew it out again.... - -But as I struck there came a great and terrible cry from the ship, -and I turned and saw the captain’s face at the window waving bleeding -hands to me; for with his hands he had beaten out the thick glass, and -he strove to force his body through but could not. Then he cried aloud -again, such a cry as once I heard a man utter at Serua whom we had -trapped in a cave whence there was no escape, and then his head fell -forward and he was still. And the woman’s body which I had pierced sank -slowly beneath the sea. But when they lifted the captain they found -that he was dead, though his body had sustained no hurt. - -Now I think that this white man was the most foolish of all the white -men in the world, for though white men commit great foolishness for the -sake of women, because of their beauty, yet none are so foolish as to -desire their dead bodies, and this woman was not beautiful even when -she lived, for she was axe-faced. - - - - -THE FIERY FURNACE. - - -Of the ancient Fijian ceremonies few now survive. The early -missionaries are unjustly charged with bigotry and Philistinism, in -having waged war on all native ceremonial connected, however remotely, -with their heathen creeds. But the Wesleyan missionaries were before -all things practical, and knew that if Christianity was to take root at -all it must have bare soil, from which every weed had been carefully -torn up; for savage converts have an easy-going tendency towards -engrafting Christianity upon their old beliefs,--in discovering that -Jehovah is only another name for Krishna or Ndengei, and that the -ritual that pleased the one cannot be unacceptable to the other. - -But in one corner of Fiji, the island of Mbengga, a curious observance -of mythological origin has escaped the general destruction, probably -because the worthy iconoclasts had never heard of it. Once every year -the _masáwe_, a dracæna that grows in profusion on the grassy hillsides -of the island, becomes fit to yield the sugar of which its fibrous root -is full. To render it fit to eat, the roots must be baked among hot -stones for four days. A great pit is dug, and filled with large stones -and blazing logs, and when these have burned down, and the stones are -at white heat, the oven is ready for the _masáwe_. It is at this stage -that the clan Na Ivilankata, favoured of the gods, is called on to -“leap into the oven” (_rikata na lovo_), and walk unharmed upon the hot -stones that would scorch and wither the feet of any but the descendants -of the dauntless Tui Nkualita. Twice only had Europeans been fortunate -enough to see the _masáwe_ cooked, and so marvellous had been the tales -they told, and so cynical the scepticism with which they had been -received, that nothing short of another performance before witnesses -and the photographic camera would have satisfied the average “old hand.” - -As we steamed up to the chief’s village of Waisoma, a cloud of blue -smoke rolling up among the palms told us that the fire was newly -lighted. We found a shallow pit, nineteen feet wide, dug in the sandy -soil, a stone’s throw from high-water mark, in a small clearing among -the cocoa-nuts between the beach and the dense forest. The pit was -piled high with great blazing logs and round stones the size of a -man’s head. Mingled with the crackling roar of the fire were loud -reports as splinters flew off from the stones, warning us to guard -our eyes. A number of men were dragging up more logs and rolling them -into the blaze, while, above all, on the very brink of the fiery pit, -stood Jonathan Dambea, directing the proceedings with an air of noble -calm. As the stones would not be hot enough for four hours, there was -ample time to hear the tradition that warrants the observance of the -strange ceremony we were to see; and so seated on the spotless mats -in Jonathan’s house, I listened while a grey-headed elder told me the -story, pausing only to ask his fellows to corroborate, or to supply -some incident that had slipped his memory. - -“On an evening,” he said, “very long ago, the men of Navakaisese had -collected in their sleeping-house for the night. Now the name of that -house was Nakauyema. And they were telling stories, each trying to -surpass the other in the story that he told. And one of them, whose -name I have forgotten, called upon each to name the reward (_nambu_) -he would give him for the story he was about to tell; for it is our -custom thus to encourage a good story-teller, each one bringing to -him on the morrow the _nambu_ he has promised. And some promised one -thing and some another. But Tui Nkualita, a chief and warrior of the Na -Ivilankata clan, cried ‘My _nambu_ shall be an eel!’ Then the story was -told, and the night passed. And on the morrow Tui Nkualita remembered -the spring called Namoliwai, that he had seen a large eel in it. And -when he came to it, and, kneeling on the brink, plunged his hand into -it, he could not feel the bottom though the water reached his shoulder, -for the pool was deeper than formerly; and he reached yet farther down, -following the rocky hole with his hand, and he touched something. He -drew it out, and saw that it was a child’s cradle-mat. Then, wondering -greatly, he plunged his arm into the pool, and reached yet farther -down, and touched something. And as he felt it, he knew it for the -fingers of a man. ‘Whoever this may be,’ he said within himself, ‘he -shall be my _nambu_.’ And he plunged half his body into the water, -feeling with his hand until he touched a man’s head. Then grasping the -hair he dragged it upwards, and planting his feet firmly, he drew forth -the body of a man, and held it fast on the brink of the spring. - -“‘Whoever you are,’ he cried, ‘you shall be my _nambu_.’ - -“‘You must save me,’ answered the man, ‘for I am a chief, and have a -village of my own, and many others who pay tribute to me.’ - -“‘What is your name?’ - -“‘Tui na Moliwai (chief of Moliwai).’ - -“‘I know all the chiefs of Mbengga, and many also on the mainland, but -I never heard of Tui na Moliwai. I only know that you must come with me -and be my _nambu_.’ - -“‘Have pity on me, and let me live.’ - -“‘Let you live? Why, of what use will you be to me alive?’ - -“‘I will be your guardian spirit in war.’ - -“‘No. Mbengga is small, and I am mightier than all others in war.’ - -“‘Then I will be your god of safe voyages.’ - -“‘I am no sailor. My home is the land, and I hate the sea.’ - -“‘Then let me help you on the _tinka_-ground.’ - -“‘When the game is played my lance flies truer and stronger than them -all.’ - -“‘Then I will make you beloved of women.’ - -“‘I have a wife who loves me, and I want no other. What else?’ - -“‘Then I will do more than all these. You shall pass unharmed through -fire.’ - -“‘If you can do that I may spare you; but if you fail you shall be my -_nambu_.’ - -“Then the god gathered brushwood together, and piled it with stones in -a little hollow, and made fire, and lighted it, and they sat down to -wait until the stones grew hot. And when the wood had burned to ashes, -and the stones were red with heat, the god rose and took Tui Nkualita -by the hand, saying, ‘Come, let us go into the oven.’ - -“‘What! And be roasted while living?’ - -“‘Nay,’ returned the god, ‘I would not return evil for good. It shall -not burn you.’ - -“Then Tui Nkualita took his hand, and lay on the hot stones, finding -them cool and pleasant to his body. - -“And Tui na Moliwai said, ‘You shall stay four days in the oven, and be -unhurt.’ - -“‘Four days! And who shall find food for my wife and children while I -am there? No! Let me only pass through the fire as I have done, and -come out unharmed. I ask no more than this.’ - -“‘It is well. This gift shall be yours and your descendants’ for ever. -Whether you stay here or go to other countries, this power shall remain -with you.’ - -“So Tui Nkualita let Tui na Moliwai go alive, and returned to his home -at Navakaisese, telling no one what had befallen him. But on the day -when masáwe was cooked at Wakanisalato, and the oven was heated, Tui -Nkualita rose and sprang into the great pit, trampling the burning -stones unharmed, and treading down the green leaves as they were thrown -to line the oven, so that he was hidden in the steam. And the people -raised a great shout, wondering much when they saw him come out alive -and unharmed. Thus it came about that whenever _masáwe_ is cooked in -Mbengga, the people of Rukua and Sawau must first leap into the oven -to make the baking good; and if yams or other food were put into the -oven with the _masáwe_, they would be taken out at the end of four days -still raw. - -“Last year we went to a great feast at Rewa, and one of the Rewa chiefs -jested with us as we stood by the ovens, saying, ‘Come, leap into our -ovens, as you do into your own.’ And we told them that it is _tabu_ to -say this of any oven but the _masáwe_ oven, and that the food in the -smoking-pits would not be cooked. And our words came true, for when the -ovens were dug they found the pig and the yams raw as they were put in.” - -[Illustration: “_When the wood was all out there remained a conical -pile of glowing stones._”] - -When we were at last summoned, the fire had been burning for more than -four hours. The pit was filled with a white-hot mass shooting out -little tongues of white flame, and throwing out a heat beside which the -scorching sun was a pleasant relief. A number of men were engaged with -long poles, to which a loop of thick vine had been attached, in noosing -the pieces of unburnt wood by twisting the pole, like a horse’s twitch, -until the loop was tight, and dragging the log out by main force. When -the wood was all out there remained a conical pile of glowing stones in -the middle of the pit. Ten men now drove the butts of green saplings -into the base of the pile, and held the upper end while a stout vine -was passed behind the row of saplings. A dozen men grasped each end -of the vine, and with loud shouts hauled with all their might. The -saplings, like the teeth of an enormous rake, tore through the pile of -stones, flattening them out towards the opposite edge of the pit. The -saplings were then driven in on the other side, and the stones raked -in the opposite direction, then sideways, until the bottom of the pit -was covered with an even layer of hot stones. This process had taken -fully half an hour, but any doubt as to the heat of the stones at the -end was set at rest by the tongues of flame that played continually -among them. The cameras were hard at work, and a large crowd of people -pressed inwards towards the pit as the moment drew near. A Zanzibar -negro and his wife, drifted from heaven knows where, half-castes with -Samoan mothers, with Fijian mothers and unknown fathers, mingled with -the crowd of natives from the neighbouring mainland. They were all -excited except Jonathan, who preserved, even in the supreme moment, -the air of holy calm that never leaves his face. All eyes are fixed -expectant on the dense bush behind the clearing, whence the Shadrachs, -Meshachs, and Abednegos of the Pacific are to emerge. There is a cry -of “_Vutu! Vutu!_” and forth from the bush, two and two, march fifteen -men, dressed in garlands and fringes. They tramp straight to the brink -of the pit. The leading pair show something like fear in their faces, -but do not pause, perhaps because the rest would force them to move -forward. They step down upon the stones and continue their march round -the pit, planting their feet squarely and firmly on each stone. The -cameras snap, the crowd surges forward, the bystanders fling in great -bundles of green leaves. But the bundles strike the last man of the -procession and cut him off from his fellows; so he stays where he is, -trampling down the leaves as they are thrown to line the pit, in a -dense cloud of steam from the boiling sap. The rest leap back to his -assistance, shouting and trampling, and the pit turns into the mouth of -an Inferno, filled with dusky frenzied fiends, half seen through the -dense volume that rolls up to heaven and darkens the sunlight. After -the leaves, palm-leaf baskets of the dracæna root are flung to them, -more leaves, and then bystanders and every one joins in shovelling -earth over all till the pit is gone, and a smoking mound of fresh -earth takes its place. This will keep hot for four days, and then the -_masáwe_ will be cooked. - -As the procession had filed up to the pit, by a preconcerted -arrangement with the noble Jonathan, a large stone had been hooked -out of the pit to the feet of one of the party, who poised a -pocket-handkerchief over it, and dropped it lightly upon the stone when -the first man leaped into the oven, and snatched what remained of it -up as the last left the stones. During the fifteen or twenty seconds -it lay there every fold that touched the stone was charred, and the -rest of it scorched yellow. So the stones were not cool. We caught four -or five of the performers as they came out, and closely examined their -feet. They were cool, and showed no trace of scorching, nor were their -anklets of dried tree-fern leaf burnt. This, Jonathan explained, is -part of the miracle; for dried tree-fern is as combustible as tinder, -and there were flames shooting out among the stones. Sceptics had -affirmed that the skin of a Fijian’s foot being a quarter of an inch -thick, he would not feel a burn. Whether this be true or not of the -ball and heel, the instep is covered with skin no thicker than our own, -and we saw the men plant their insteps fairly on the stone. Clearly -eternity can have no terrors for these simple natives. - -I think that most of the sceptics were impressed. Even the skipper -of the steamer, who was once a conjurer, and ate fire at a variety -entertainment, said it was “very fair for niggers,” but darkly hinted -that he could improve upon it. - -Seated by a bowl of _kava_ and a candle stuck in a bottle-neck, -Jonathan underwent my cross-examination with calm good-humour. Why were -the young men afraid? Because only five of the fifteen had ever passed -through the fire before. The regular performers were elderly men, and -they had reflected upon our distinguished rank, and the rumour that -picture-machines would be brought, and selected good-looking youths -rather than ugly old men. The handkerchief was burned? Well, if it had -been thrown into the middle of the pit, instead of upon an isolated -stone, it would not have been even singed, for the linen being of -human manufacture would share the god’s gift to men. Would a strange -man share the gift? Certainly, if he went with one of the tribe. If I -had told him my wishes sooner he would have taken me in barefooted, -and I should have found the stones cool and pleasant. Yes, it was true -that one of the men had nearly fallen, but the others ran to hold him -up. Would he have been burnt if he had fallen? He thought not. Then -why were the people so anxious to save him from falling? Well--they -remembered a man who fell many years ago, and yes--he certainly was -burnt on the shoulders and side, but a wise man patted the burns, -and they dried up and ceased paining him. Any trick? Here Jonathan’s -ample face shrunk smaller, and a shadow passed over his candid eye. -“If there had been any trick it would have come to light long ago. The -whole world would know. Perhaps I do not believe the story of Tui na -Moliwai, but I do believe that my tribe has been given to pass unharmed -through the fire.” Oh, wily Jonathan! - -Perhaps the Na Ivilankata clan have no secret, and there is nothing -wonderful in their performance, but, miracle or not, I am very glad I -saw it. - - - - -FRIENDSHIP. - - -I. - -“Allen, come out! Hang it, man, it’s not before your time! Why, it’s -five o’clock.” - -“But the boss----” - -“Blow the boss! He didn’t buy your body and soul for eight-six-eight -a-month?” - -“But suppose I lose my billet----” - -“That’s what I want you for. Look here! Life’s not worth living at this -rate. If it wasn’t for my wife I’d have chucked it long ago, for I’m -sick to death of stocks and shares: there’s no excitement when you make -a hit, because you don’t win enough, and it’s no fun losing, because -you always lose too much.” - -“Yes. It’s all very well for you, Benion,--you can afford it; but if I -had half your money, I’d steer clear of specs. altogether.” - -“No, you wouldn’t, my boy! The only fun of having money left one is to -try to make it grow. I expect you chuck some of your wretched screw -away betting on these beggarly races where every horse is run crooked.” - -“Why, how much do you suppose I have over after paying for my living?” -asked the younger man, indignantly. - -“I know, old chap. Can’t think how you manage to live on it as it is. -Now, look here! Can you keep your mouth shut?” - -“No.” - -“Don’t play the fool. I think you can,” said Benion, examining him -doubtfully. “I always liked your looks, or I shouldn’t want now to make -your fortune. I suppose you’d stick to me if I made your fortune?” - -“Better try!” laughed Allen. - -Benion, with a great air of mystery, drew him out of Macquarie Street -among the trees that grew in that part of Sydney which is now called -Hyde Park. When they were a hundred yards from any possible listener -he unburdened his soul in a hoarse whisper. “There will never be a -chance like this again. A schooner came in last night from Honolulu in -ballast, and the two chaps that own her talk of fitting her out for -a trading voyage in the islands--in a devil of a hurry too. There was -a lot of talk about it, and all sorts of yarns flying about, because -people going to the islands aren’t, as a rule, in a hurry, and don’t -mind being asked questions.” - -“What sort of looking chaps are they?” - -“Oh, Yankees, I expect; but they are burnt as dark as niggers, and wear -red sashes round their waists with belts over them,--the rig they wear -in the islands, they say. Anyhow, when men want a shipload of goods -in a hurry, and do the mystery-man about where they’re going to, it’s -pretty clear that there’s money in it, and that they don’t want any one -else to get before them. But I mean to be before them.” - -“What----” - -“You’ve come here to listen and not to ask questions. If I let you into -this thing, which will be worked, mind, with my capital, what will you -give in return?” - -“Can’t give anything but my work.” - -“Exactly. Well, then, it’s this way. I’ll make you my partner on a -quarter share of all that’s made out of it; you on your side promise -to work all you know until we break partnership by mutual consent. A -quarter share ought to make your fortune if we have luck; but when I -want a man to work I don’t believe in starving him. Now _will_ you -work, and _will_ you keep your mouth shut, and _will_ you stick to me? -I don’t want any paper--your word will do.” - -“Of course I will, Benion. I’ll swear if you like.” - -“No. A man’s word is as good as his oath. If he breaks the one he’s -bound to break the other.” - -The two had come to a stand-still facing each other, but now Benion -took his companion’s arm, and began to walk rapidly away from the -houses. - -“This morning,” he went on, “I made friends with one of the schooner’s -crew. He was just going aboard, but when I talked of drinks he turned -back with me. The poor devil had been kept pretty short on board. He -wouldn’t talk at first, but put the liquor away until at last he got to -think I was his oldest friend. He’d deserted from a whaler in Honolulu, -and the owners of this schooner got him to sail on double wages at two -hours’ notice. ‘And all to trade in the islands?’ I said. ‘Islands, -be blowed!’ he said; ‘it’s something better than that!’ ‘Ah, well, I -wish you luck,’ I said, getting up as if to go; but he didn’t want to -move, and said, ‘And suppose it _was_ trading--what then?’ ‘Nothing,’ -I said. ‘Wal, do yer call _gold_ nothing?’ he said, winking with one -of his wicked eyes. ‘Don’t come one of your sailor’s yarns over me,’ I -said. ‘It’s true, so help me,’ he answered; and then he looked round to -see that no one was listening, and leaned forward till I could scarcely -bear the smell of gin and tobacco-quid, and whispered, ‘They’ve found -gold in Californy, and they’re stuck up for all kinds of trade. The -ship that brought the news was leaking like a sieve, and my owners, as -keeps a store in Honolulu, bought this schooner and got a crew together -in less than a day, and we’re to fill up and get away to-day so as to -be the first in the field. If they gets a week’s start _they_ won’t -have to keep store any more, ’cos bloomin’ nuggets of gold is the only -money they use over in Californy, and they can stick it on ’cos the -diggers is starving.’ ‘They’ll be getting stuff round from New York,’ I -said. ‘That’s what they’re scared of,’ he said, ‘only they think that -ships from New York are likelier to bring more diggers than stores.’ - -“So then I made my friend as drunk as he could carry, and saw him down -to the quay, and I went off to find out what the owners had been up -to. I found out that they’d been to some of the wholesale houses, -buying up tools and clothing and provisions, and I heard from Jakes -that they’d been inquiring for a timber-yard. Well, you know Hathaway’s -a friend of mine, and when I got to him I found sure enough that my -friends had been ordering timber, for a frame-house in the islands, -they said, but old Hathaway said there were doors and locks enough -for a prison. So I gave the old man the tip not to deliver the order -before the end of the week. Didn’t give any reasons, and he didn’t ask -any,--said it would be the devil’s own job anyway to get the stuff off -to-morrow as the island chaps wanted.” - -“Then are we going with them?” asked Allen. - -“Not much, my boy; we’re going without ’em.” - -“What! Take their vessel, d’you mean?” said the younger man, with open -mouth. - -“No. There are better vessels than theirs: just listen, and don’t -ask questions. After I’d seen Hathaway I went to Thorne. I’ve done a -goodish bit of business with him lately. Got him to give me a list -of vessels he has lying idle,--seven of them, a bark, two brigs, and -the rest schooners: told him a friend of mine wanted a fast boat for -the island trade, but the old chap ’d got wind o’ something and asked -me whether my friend was Mr Wilson of Honolulu. When he saw that I -wouldn’t be pumped he doubled the charter. But we came to terms. He -will let me have the Amaranth, the smartest thing in port, bark-rigged, -seven hundred tons register. She’s just discharged, and will be ready -for sea as soon as her cargo’s aboard. After that I went the round of -the wholesale houses. I know some one in each of them, and by a little -manœuvring I squared it to have my stuff delivered before Wilson’s. -Then I saw Hathaway again, and doubled Wilson’s order,--mine, of -course, to have preference. And, last of all, I engaged the Amaranth’s -skipper, and got him to pick up a crew to sign indentures this -afternoon,--not a bad day’s work!” - -Allen’s bewilderment had been growing at each sentence of his -companion’s story. “But what will it all cost?” he asked. - -“Never you mind about that, my boy. You haven’t got to pay for it. If -we’re quick enough and keep our mouths shut your share ought to be more -than all this racket will cost me. Our only danger is a slow passage. -The whole town’s talking about the business, and even if we get away -before the Reindeer--Wilson’s schooner--the chances are that the thing -will leak out and the whole town be after us. Now you go home and give -your boss notice, and come and breakfast with me to-morrow. We’ll go -on board in the morning and out with the afternoon ebb-tide, cleared -at the Customs for a trading voyage in the islands. Once outside the -Heads we can laugh at the Customs and everybody else, for nothing but a -steamer could catch us.” - -Allen found the Benion establishment in a state of disruption. A cart -was at the door, and his friend in his shirt-sleeves, none too clean, -was sitting on the lid of a box in the hall trying to snap the hasp. - -“Just in time, my boy,” he shouted; “just sit down here and save me -from breaking the Third Commandment again.” - -Mrs Benion, harassed and red-eyed, was bustling about breakfast. When -she had left them her husband whispered, “Talk as if we were coming -back in a couple of months. She don’t half like my going. Says she -dreamt she saw me in the water swimming for my life, and thinks she -won’t see me again, so we must let her down easy.” - -It was a miserable breakfast. The poor wife pretended that she had -a cold to disguise her tears, and Benion poured forth a flood of -artificial and forced gaiety that deceived no one. But it was over at -last, and Allen went out to the street-door to leave the man and wife -together. At last Benion pushed past him with his head down, saying, -“She wants to say good-bye to you, Allen; go in, like a good fellow, -and then follow me down.” - -He found the dining-room door open. She was standing near the table -repressing her sobs with evident effort. She looked him full in the -eyes. “You _will_ take care of him,” she said passionately, “and not -let him run into danger,--he is so rash. I can trust you, for he has -been so good to you, hasn’t he?” - -“Of course I will, Mrs Benion; don’t be afraid. We’ll be back safe -enough with our fortunes made before you’ve had time to miss us.” And -he left her, hearing her first sob as he reached the door. Inwardly he -thanked the fates that he was not married, for he felt vaguely that -Benion was doing wrong in going. But of course he would come back -safely, or, if anything were to happen, he himself would never return -to Sydney to face the sorrow in that woman’s eyes. - -The Amaranth was taking in the last of her cargo when they boarded -her. She was full to the hatches, but a small deck-load of timber had -to be stowed before they weighed anchor. About three o’clock she ran -down to the Heads with the ebb-tide, and dropped her pilot before dark. -Once clear of the land, Benion was in the wildest spirits; for they -had at least a day’s start of the Reindeer, and they were a faster -vessel and a bigger one. After dinner the captain was taken into their -confidence; but the vision of gold-fields failed to tempt him, and -he became restive. He not unnaturally wanted to know why he had not -been told before. It was ten to one, he said, that his crew would -desert, and where was he to get another? But Benion was prepared for -this argument. If the gold-fields were good enough to make the crew -desert, they were probably better than captain’s wages. Besides, _he_ -would be answerable to the owners. The crew had been got together -in a hurry, and as there had been no selection, there was more than -the usual proportion of grumblers. The wages were high, for it would -have taken more than a day to get a complement for a cruise among the -islands at the ordinary wages; but the islands were unpopular, and -the men were half-hearted. When Benion had argued the captain into -tacit acquiescence, he suggested that the crew should be let into the -secret. “They’ve got to know it some time,” he said, “and why not now? -When they know about the gold they’ll be as keen about the voyage as we -are.” - -He was right. From the time the announcement was made the work of the -ship went like clockwork, and the voyage ended happily, and without any -more grumbling: for since the days of the Argonauts, gold, whether in -fleece or nugget, has ever had a powerful hold upon the imagination of -sailors. - -They made the land at sunrise. It was a perfect morning, fresh, but not -cold. Before them were two mountain-ranges separated by a valley which, -together with all the low-lying land, was filled with woolly vapour, -absolutely motionless, and so level that it looked like the waters of -a lake from which the mountain-tops emerged distinct in the clear air -like islands. Then the rising sun struck them and crept down their -sides in a flood of light till it touched the surface of the lake of -vapour, tinging it with gold; and, as if by magic, the whole lake was -set in motion, and rolled up the valley, where it was caught by the -sea-breeze and whirled in great convolutions into the higher air, where -it vanished. - -They steered for two low promontories, upon one of which stood a -ruinous fort bearing the Mexican flag. As they neared it the swell -increased, for they were approaching the bar. The sea, so calm outside, -broke angrily upon a sunken reef on their left, but the flood-tide -helped them, and in a moment they were floating in calm water beyond -the fort, with a magnificent view before them,--a broad sheet of -water indented with coves and backed with pasture and woodland of the -brightest green. The foreshore was less beautiful, for the tide was -still low, and the beach was a waste of mud, from which a fetid steam -had begun to rise that set the landscape a-dance. They dropped anchor -between two barks that had every appearance of being deserted. Their -running-gear was hanging loose, their yards were braced all ways as for -a funeral, and their decks were littered with stores and rubbish as if -the crew had left them in haste. Stranded on the mud was the hull of a -schooner, her top-hamper touching the ground as she lay careened over. -On shore the only dwellings to be seen were some ruined walls, round -which a number of rough shanties of packing-cases, wreckage, and ships’ -copper were clustered, and beyond these some hundreds of tents gleamed -white in the morning sunlight from the fringe of forest trees. Such -was the city of San Francisco in 1849. - -Benion and Allen lost no time in going on shore. They stepped from -the boat into a crowd of the hangers-on of the gold-field,--surely -the strangest seething of humanity that the modern world can show! -There were men of every nation and shade of colour, of every grade -of society, of every creed and occupation, all flung together with -the burning fever of gold-hunting hot upon them. And there were -besides the ministers to their pleasures, their necessities, and -their vices: storekeepers, without stores to sell; faro-bank keepers; -saloon-keepers, cleared of their stock-in-trade; and the ministers to -yet lower vices. Hundreds of new arrivals, unprovided with the few -stores necessary to support life, and unable to buy at the famine -prices of the place, were still awaiting the arrival of a ship. - -As soon as it became known that Benion had brought stores he was set -upon by the storekeepers and liquor-sellers, but he had made a stern -resolve to retail everything himself and let no middleman profit from -him. But the Reindeer might be in at any moment to compete with him, so -that, after fixing upon a site for his tent, he sent part of his cargo -ashore that very afternoon, and ensconced Allen as storeman. - -So Allen bartered goods for gold-dust; and as their hoard increased, -the friendship that is born of hardships endured in common grew between -them. - - -II. - -The wind that had been blowing fresh all day from the south-east had by -evening freshened into a gale, and the schooner was running before it -with reefed mainsail. As the sun sank red among the storm-clouds, and -lit the western horizon with a lurid glare, something more solid than a -cloud interrupted the unbroken line. The man at the wheel saw it, and -called the attention of the mate whose watch it was. - -“Land ahead, sir!” - -“That be hanged for a yarn! There’s no land within two hundred miles of -us, and what there is ain’t in that quarter.” - -“What is the nearest land?” asked Benion. - -“The Fijis. The old man took sights this morning and reckoned we’d pass -to the nor’rard of the Fijis some time to-morrow if the wind held. -They’re marked in the charts as high land, and we ought to see them -thirty miles off or more.” Then shading his eyes with his hand, he -gazed at the spot on the fast darkening horizon that looked now more -than ever like a cloud. - -“Why, you must have the jimmies if you call that land!” he said -over his shoulder. “Keep her up half a point.” He glanced at the -compass-card, spat over the lee-rail, and went forward. - -In a few moments the white foam-flakes turned to grey, faded and -vanished, and night fell like a great black cloth flung over the -troubled sea. With the darkness the wind seemed to get stronger, the -seas bigger, and the vessel more frail and helpless. She was advancing -by a series of bounds as each great roller overtook and lifted her -stern, poised and flung her forward, and then surged roaring past her, -leaving her as it were stranded in the gulf between it and the next, -whose swelling base the stern began again to climb. - -At eight o’clock the captain came on deck, glanced aloft and to -windward, and ordered the look-out to be doubled. Benion was sitting on -the main-hatch smoking, and emitting a shower of sparks from his pipe -with each gust of wind. - -“Anywhere near land, cap?” he shouted. - -“No; but we ought to sight it to-morrow, and in these coral waters one -likes to keep a good look-out. You never know when you may hit upon a -new reef.” - -The ship tore through the seas for half-an-hour, when there was a shout -from the look-out, “Breakers ahead!” - -The captain dashed to the wheel and put the helm down, and the schooner -came up into the wind, shivering with the shock of the great seas as -they struck her and washed the decks from stem to stern. The wind was -howling through the rigging, cracking the sails like whip-lashes, now -that the ship was no longer running before it, but a practised ear -could hear a distant roar, distinct from that of the wind and seas, -that broke on the ship. Both watches were hauling in the sheets and -reefing, and then the schooner’s head was payed off a little so as -to clear the shore, if shore it was. Benion and Allen were straining -their eyes to leeward in the hope of seeing the danger, but they could -distinguish nothing from the dark waste of grey water. - -“This sort of thing makes me wish that we hadn’t put all our eggs in -one basket,” said Benion. “If we had fetched up on that reef and got -off it alive, we shouldn’t have a penny in the world.” - -“We ought to have insured the box and shipped it to New York in one of -the steamers,” replied Allen. - -“It seemed such sheer folly to pay the insurance rates that Carter -asked, I thought it was better to take the risk of shipwreck. If the -gold is lost we shall probably go to the bottom with it. If we get home -with it safe we can take it easy all our days. It’s a fair risk.” - -The mate meanwhile had climbed into the top and presently reported -that he could see breakers, but that they had cleared the corner of -the reef, and might now stand away a little. The ship’s head fell off -until the wind was again on the quarter, and she was running free. The -two men were soaked to the skin with the spray when the vessel was -close-hauled, but Benion would not go below to change, feeling that if -this were land the captain was at least two hundred miles out of his -reckoning, and they might go ashore at any moment. But several hours -passed without more alarms, and he at last fell asleep on the hatch in -his wet clothes. It was a troubled half sleep, in which every sound -entered into his dreams mingled with the monotonous roar of the seas. -Suddenly some one in his dream shouted “Land ahead!” There was a rush -of booted feet past him; he started up, and saw a dark mass looming -above the ship. - -As she came up into the wind a sea struck her forward and stopped her -dead, the next seemed to hurl her sideways, and before she could get -way on she fell with a reeling shock upon the reef, rolled sideways -amid the boiling surf, and each successive wave fell upon her with a -hungry yell and swept her from stem to stern, hammering and grinding -the wounded hull upon the sharp coral. - -At the first shock Benion fell against the starboard bulwarks, and -before he could grasp the slippery rail a great sea swept the deck and -washed him to leeward into the darkness. Dazed and without power of -reasoning, he allowed himself to drift, instinctively keeping his body -upright in the water. - -Allen meanwhile was still on the doomed ship. He was asleep when -she struck, and the shock flung him out of his bunk against the -opposite bulk-head. Bruised and stunned as he was, he realised what -had happened. The floor of the cabin was at a sharp angle, and the -bilge timbers groaned and cracked as each pitiless sea lifted the ship -and dashed her on the reef with a grinding crash. To steady himself -against the shocks he planted his foot against a box over which the -water was washing. It was Benion’s strong box, that had slid from its -lashings under the bunk. What were life worth, he thought, to either -of them if this were lost? It were better to die trying to save their -fortune than to battle for life, leaving this to certain destruction -in the wreck. He grasped it by the iron handle and dragged it up the -companion, using all his strength, for it was heavy, and the ladder -slanted at a sharp angle. Holding on by the brass rail, he looked out -upon the slippery decks. The top-mast, with all its ruin of yards, -ropes, and blocks, swung heavily by the wire-rigging and thrashed the -deck at every heave of the hull, and several of the crew were hacking -at the foremast with an axe. Nearer to him, in the waist of the ship, -three men seemed to be making a raft by lashing some spare planks and -spars together. Suddenly, with a splitting noise, the foremast with all -its wreckage went overboard, and the schooner partly righted herself. -As each sea lifted her she gradually came up head to wind, for both -anchors had been let go; and she lay there for a space without lifting -to the seas, for she was now waterlogged. The crest of every sea swept -the decks; but Allen, though blinded and suffocated by the spray, -still held firmly to the cabin-trunk, which protected him from the -waves. But a huge sea, gathering volume in the shallow water, swept -roaring down upon them, and trembling over the bows, carried everything -before it. The whole cabin-trunk gave way with the wrench, and Allen -suddenly found himself up to his neck in the water, away from the ship, -but still clinging to the brass rail of the cabin-trunk, and still -holding the iron handle of Benion’s box in his right hand. The water -splashing in his face impeded both breath and vision, but he thought -he could see the dim outline of the ship to windward. The water was -almost calm around him, for he was floating inside the reef, but there -was sufficient “send” in the waves to set him steadily inshore. At last -the cabin-trunk grounded, rose again for the next wave, struck more -heavily, and remained immovable, while the waves surged powerlessly -round it. The water was only waist-deep, and Allen, still grasping the -precious box, stumbled over the rough coral until he found himself on -dry sand, dripping and chilled to the bone by the wind, warm though it -was. A dark wall of bush close to him recalled grim stories of cannibal -natives. If he was in danger, the first thing to be done was to hide -the box. Full of this one thought, he dragged it by the handle through -the soft sand into the shadow of the trees. The ground was carpeted -with the leaves of some trailing vine, that caught his feet and would -have thrown him had he not recovered himself against the trunk of a -tree. He felt it with his hands. It was gnarled and knotted, and of so -great a girth that his extended arms would not reach the half of its -circumference. This would be a landmark, he thought, for it must be -larger than its fellows. He knelt down and plunged his hands into the -sand at the root, tearing up the vines, and scooping out a hole large -enough to hold the box; but when he began to lower it into the hole the -corners caught the loose sand and half-filled the hole. A third of the -box remained above ground, but he dared not delay, for a nervous terror -of interruption had seized him. Through the roar of the wind he fancied -that he heard other sounds. He shovelled the loose sand against the -sides of the box, and, tearing up the vines within his reach, he piled -them above it. Then he stood up with a strange feeling of safety and -self-reliance. Come what might, if he and Benion escaped, their money -was safe. But where was Benion? He remembered for the first time that -he had not seen him since the evening. What if he was the only man -left alive? It was a new thought, terrible at first until he remembered -the box buried at his feet. If Benion were dead, then all would be his -lawfully and without blame. What possibilities would life then have? -He had often dreamed on the diggings of what it would be to be rich, -but the possibility of riches for him had never seemed near until this -moment. He knew the disloyalty of the thought, for close upon its heels -came a half-formed wish that Benion might be dead. Gratitude had not -died out before this great temptation, for he could be grateful to his -benefactor’s memory if he could no longer show gratitude to him in the -flesh. - -While he stood irresolute he heard a distant shout. Not doubting that -it came from one of his comrades, he started along the shore in the -direction of the sound. In two hundred yards he came to a rocky bluff -from which great boulders had fallen upon the sand, forming a barrier -right down to the sea at low tide. Through these the sea was dashing -furiously, and it was so dark that he dared go no farther. He sat down -in a recess hollowed out of the cliff-foot by the sea at high tide, and -sheltered from the wind: his exhaustion conquered, and he fell asleep -in his wet clothes as he was. - -When he awoke the eastern sky was grey, and broad golden streaks shot -up from the horizon. The wind had moderated, but great masses of flying -scud told what the night had been. He was stiff and chilled from his -wet clothes, but he crawled out from his shelter, and found himself -face to face with a man, dripping, cold, and miserable as himself. It -was Jansen, one of the sailors, a Norwegian, one of those Allen had -seen trying to make a raft. He too had spent the night lying on the -shore, and he believed that besides themselves none were left alive. -While they were talking the sun rose, and straightway their prospects -assumed a less gloomy hue. The wreck was hidden from them by a curve -of the shore heavily timbered. They ran to this and saw the schooner -dismasted, lying helpless on her side. Every sea washed over her, and -she seemed to be breaking up. Landwards the forest was a mere fringe, -clothing the foot of great basaltic cliffs that rose sheer to a plateau -which they could not see. Every crevice of the limestone had been -seized upon by enterprising tree-ferns and banian-trees, and only where -the face was so smooth as to afford no clinging-place was the rock -naked. - -The two men wandered aimlessly along the narrow strip of sand left -between the high tide and the trees, and upon rounding a projecting -tree, came suddenly upon a thin column of smoke rising from the outer -edge of the bush. Their first instinct was to take cover behind a tree, -for they had the fear of cannibals ever before their eyes, but Allen -caught sight of a figure crouching among the undergrowth. Cannibal -savages do not wear blouses and trousers, nor even red beards, and to -whom could such a beard belong but Macevoy, A.B.? They found a group -of their shipmates crouching half-naked round a fire of drift-wood, -destined, when the smoke should subside, to dry their clothes. - -“Jansen and Allen! That makes fourteen. There are only five missing -now. Could Castles swim, do any of you know?” asked the boatswain. - -“Castles went to the bottom, if he had any swimming to do,” growled -Macevoy. - -The men had got ashore at different times during the night,--some -clinging to spars and oars, and others, washed off before they could -seize anything, had swum until they drifted into shallow water. Five -only were missing--Benion, the cook, and three seamen; but they might -have landed on a different part of the beach. The captain now proposed -that two parties should follow the beach in opposite directions, to -look for the missing men and to find fresh water, while the rest -collected wood for a raft on which to bring off provisions from the -wreck before she broke up, for they were desperately hungry. Allen -chose to stay with the main body, who soon collected enough fallen -timber for a raft, and lashed the logs together with the thick creepers -that hung in festoons from every tree. When it was finished the tide -had ebbed too far for launching it, and they could therefore do nothing -more until the afternoon. They were about to disperse in search of food -when one of the search-parties returned carrying a body between them. - -“Who is it?” shouted the captain. - -“Benion,” answered the leading man. - -Allen felt a thrill of guilty anticipation. Then he was dead after all, -and the gold would be his! The party came up and laid their burden -gently down. He was still alive. They had found him lying, helpless and -half-stunned, on the beach with a sprained ankle, and only strength -enough to crawl out of reach of the high tide. - -By mid-day they knew all there was to know about their island. It was -pear-shaped, and barely a mile in diameter,--a mere lump of limestone -pushed up from the ocean-bed, with a fringe of coral at its base. The -cliffs were unbroken save in one place, where some old earthquake had -split a jagged fissure in the rock almost down to the sea-level. This -little gorge, choked with vegetation, would have contained water had -the island been larger; but as it was, they could only find a little -moisture oozing from the cliff-face. Some of them climbed the gorge to -the plateau above, and saw the narrow light-green circle of the reef -edged with foam: saw an island near them, and two or three others so -far away that they blended with the clouds, but saw no sign of man, nor -any hope of rescue but by their own efforts. - -As soon as Benion was brought in, Allen was possessed with a fear -of being left alone with him. When the raft was launched, he joined -the two men told off to go to the wreck. It was evening before they -returned, with scarcely any stores, towing the largest of the ship’s -boats, staved and broken, but not beyond repair. At night over the -fire they took counsel. To stay for more than a week at this place -would mean starvation. The island must be one of the Fiji group, which -the captain had supposed to be two hundred miles to the southward. Some -of them had heard that there were white men there; and the party that -had climbed the cliff had seen the outline of a large island down the -wind. There was only one course open to them--to repair the broken boat -and set sail. Benion beckoned to Allen from the ivi-tree under which he -was lying. The men were some feet away, and they could talk undisturbed. - -“Did you bring off the box on the raft?” he asked, eagerly. - -“No,” replied Allen; “the cabin was full of water.” Benion started -up, forgetting his injury until the pain reminded him. “Good God!” he -cried, “it must be there--under my bunk. No one in the ship knew of it -but you, and it couldn’t float away. I’ll find it myself to-morrow, -even if I smash my ankle looking for it. You seem to take it very -calmly,” he added, fiercely; “have you forgotten that your share is in -it as well as mine?” - -“Forgotten! No; but I am too pleased at having saved my skin to think -about it yet.” - -“Your skin!” retorted Benion, contemptuously. “What good will your -_skin_ be to you if you have nothing to put on or into it? If that box -is lost, I would to God I might lie where it lies!” - -His distress was so great that Allen felt an almost invincible desire -to tell him the truth. But why should he tell him now, in his present -state of excitement? How could he explain away the lie that had come -so readily to his lips? In his excitement Benion would suspect that -he meant to steal the money, and then good-bye to any future hope of -assistance. Why, Benion might repudiate all his verbal promises of -partnership, and he had no writing to show. And had he not worked -harder than Benion at the diggings?--been a hewer of wood and a drawer -of water while his partner sat at ease? How was he to be recompensed -for all this? And his share was to be so little, while with both shares -he might live a new life in some country where they would never meet. - -“Was the box fixed under your bunk?” he asked quickly, seeing the -other’s eyes fixed inquiringly upon him. - -“Lashed, do you mean? No. I had it out yesterday, and forgot to lash it -again.” - -“Then it must have slid out,” replied Allen. “The schooner is lying on -her side, and your bunk is now where the ceiling used to be. Don’t be -afraid. I’ll go off to-morrow and have another hunt for it.” - -But during the night the wind rose again, and at high tide a heavy sea -was thundering on the reef where the poor schooner lay in the darkness. -The dawn showed a flying scud from the south-east, and a grey ocean -streaked with foam. Spray was driving over the wreck, blurring her -outline, but it could be seen that she lay lower in the water. The -men busied themselves in repairing the boat, and collecting firewood. -Some of them scoured the reef at low water, catching small fish and -sea-slugs from the pools. Benion dragged himself to a spot whence he -could see the wreck, and lay there gazing at her with fierce anxiety, -and shuddering as each great sea struck and enveloped her in white -foam, as if he felt the blows on his own body. He would not touch food, -nor answer any one that spoke to him, and the men left him alone at -last, significantly touching their foreheads. “Left ’is wits aboard by -the looks of ’im, and wants to hail them to come ashore,” was their -diagnosis of the case. Allen came in late from fishing on the lee side -of the island, and busied himself at the fire that was farthest from -his partner. - -The gale lasted all the next day, and brought up drenching -rain-squalls; but at midnight it suddenly died away, the stars came -out, and from every branch above the sleeping men the crickets burst -into song, to the tenor of the little wavelets sucking back the -shingle, and the bass of the great ocean-rollers breaking on the outer -reef. - -The men were astir before daylight to get the raft afloat at high -tide. But when the sun rose, and they looked for the dark outline -of the stranded schooner, they saw nothing to interrupt the broad -golden pathway but a strong eddy in the breaking swell, as if a rock -lay beneath the surface. The schooner was gone. Torn, battered, and -smashed into match-wood--only her bones lay jammed on the reef; the -rest of her was strewn broadcast along the beach where the tide had -left it,--broken planks, spars, blocks, casks, chests, and rope half -buried in the sand. Benion had one last hope--his box might be among -the wreckage in spite of its weight. In his despair he forgot the pain -of his sprained ankle, and half hobbled, half crawled after the men who -had gone out to collect the stores worth saving. Kneeling on the sand -at high-water mark, he eagerly scanned each man’s burden as he passed, -asking them whether they had seen an iron-bound box. - -“You’ll have to go to the reef for that,” said one; “iron don’t float.” - -With the few tools they had saved from the wreck the repairs of the -boat made rapid progress. Three days passed, and though they had -been on half rations, their little stock of bread unspoilt by the -salt water was running short. At the most it would last them five -days, and they must allow three for the voyage to the westward. On -the third day, therefore, the last plank was roughly nailed into its -place, and caulked with strips torn from their clothing, a rough sail -was contrived from the schooner’s jib, and provisions and water were -prepared for their start upon the morrow. - -Benion had had alternate fits of deep dejection and impotent fury since -the destruction of the schooner. He spoke to no one, and would not eat -his ration of biscuit though he drank his water greedily. At times he -would start up, kneeling on the sand and shaking his fist at the sky -and sea, shouting blasphemies learned at the diggings but forgotten -till now; at others he lay for hours, face downwards, on the sand, -pillowing his head upon his arm. The men thought him mad and avoided -him, and Allen was glad of any excuse for keeping away from him. But on -the day before the projected start he had shown no violence, but had -lain motionless on the ground hour after hour. They discussed him over -the fire at night. - -“A chap as won’t eat, and has the jimmies, ain’t long for this world,” -said the boatswain, summing up. - -“Wish he’d look sharp about it,” growled another; “we don’t want chaps -seein’ snakes aboard _that_ craft.” And he pointed to the boat. Allen -had been the first to notice Benion’s change of manner, and it filled -him with something like remorse. But it was too late to turn back now. -After all, if the box had been really lost, as it well might have been, -Benion would have had to bear his loss, and he must learn to bear it -now. Besides, perhaps he would tell him if they got safe out of the -island. Yes; he would tell him, but not now while he was in this state. -But however he tried to comfort himself, he was too uneasy to lie down -with the other men, who were laying in a stock of sleep for their -journey on the morrow. In the dim light of the stars he could see, just -beyond the shadow of the trees, a figure sitting on the sand looking -seaward, and could hear a few broken words brought to him by the night -breeze. He could feel, though he could not see, the fierce eyes with -a life’s longing written in them. He got up once intending to go and -speak to Benion, but abandoned the idea before he reached him, so -terrible did he seem in his despair; so he lay down watching him, and -trying to drive back his better feelings. About midnight he was almost -dozing when he sprang into wakefulness at the sound of his own name -coupled with a horrible blasphemy. Benion was kneeling erect, his right -arm extended seawards and clutching the back of his neck with his left, -declaiming passionately. Suddenly he turned, and falling on his hands -and knees, began to crawl towards the tree under which the captain -and officers of the ship were asleep. He passed into the shadow of -the trees, and for a moment was lost to sight. A horrible fear seized -Allen that he was mad and intended to kill some one, but uncertainty -prevented him from moving. A ray of light from one of the fires faintly -illumined the tree-trunk, and into this the crawling figure emerged -from the darkness. Yes; it must be murder that he intended, for now -he saw him grasp the captain’s gun that was leaning against the tree, -but before he could start forward he was crawling away as swiftly and -noiselessly as he had come, dragging the gun after him. Then it was not -murder of another but of himself. Now he was out again on the sand, and -scuffling along the beach upon his left foot and his right knee, nearly -as fast as a man could walk. Allen was too horrified to act--he could -only watch the receding figure with terror and bewilderment; and with -that strange perversity of humour it crossed his mind how funny Benion -looked scuffling along with his gun over his shoulder. But when the -figure disappeared behind a protruding tree, he yielded to the impulse -to follow and watch him. Perhaps he did not mean to kill himself after -all. He came out upon the sands, keeping in the shadow of the trees, -and near enough to Benion to distinguish his figure in the dim light. -After going a couple of hundred yards the hobbling figure became more -distinct, and Allen saw that he had stopped. There was not more than -twenty yards between them, and he sought for a deeper shadow in which -to stand. Just before him was a tree with low widespreading branches, -that threw the trunk into profound darkness. He crept towards it, -lifting his feet high and planting them softly on the sand. Something -struck him as familiar in the trunk as he neared it. Yes. Surely it -was the tree under which the box was buried! Had Benion halted there -by chance, or because he knew the spot? He turned to look for him, and -saw that he was creeping towards the tree on the other side of the -trunk. Then he must know the spot, and he had brought the gun to defend -him from interference. Allen would have run away but for the fear of -being overheard. Benion was on his knees now not five yards from him. -He could hear his labouring breath, and the rustle of the sand as he -dragged his wounded leg over it. As he came up Allen moved so as to -keep the tree between them. He stopped at the very edge of the pile -of sand and vines that hid the box, and sat down. How did he know so -well that it was there without feeling for it? He was going to dig it -up with his hands! He must get his breath first, though. Was this the -time to rest when any of the men might interrupt him? But no, he was -not resting, he was doing something. He was measuring the distance -with his gun, pushing the butt forward in the sand, so; or was he -going to dig with it that he leaned forward and put his foot against -the trigger-guard as a fulcrum? Good God! No; his head is against the -muzzle! “Benion!” - -Before the blinding flash had left his eyes, or the report ceased -echoing along the cliff, Allen was kneeling beside his partner, whose -head--as much as was left of it--was pillowed on the box for which he -had died. But only for a moment. The awful shock, while it numbed his -senses, brought him realisation of his own danger. The report must have -aroused the men by the fire, and if they found him there they might -suspect foul play. What mattered the treasure beside such a danger? -Leaving the body as it was, he tore through the undergrowth straight -inland to the base of the cliff, and groped his way along the rocks -so as to pass to the rear of the camp. His naked feet were torn and -bleeding from his headlong rush through the bush, but his mind was -too intent upon the sounds from the beach to heed the pain. He heard -the voices of men in motion, and a loud shout from the direction of -the _ivi_-tree. Then they had found the body! They would bring it -back to the camp, and he would be missed; perhaps they had even seen -his footsteps! If he would escape suspicion he must mix with the men -before they had time to notice his absence. He began to run again and -burst out of the bush, heated and breathless, at a spot beyond the -camp. He slackened his pace when he saw the fire, but a glance told him -that it was deserted. There was a confused murmur from the direction of -the _dilo_-tree, and he pressed on in the hope of joining the others -unnoticed in the darkness. A few of the men were waving smouldering -brands snatched from the fire to fan them into flame, the rest were -stooping and craning over each other’s shoulders to look at something -in the middle of the circle. Allen, striving to suppress his panting -breath, pressed forward like the others, but his labouring lungs would -not obey him. - -“Why, mate, who the ---- been chasing you? You’re blowing like a -black-fish.” - -“What is it?” asked Allen between his gasps. - -“Your mate, Benion, with a hole in his head that you can put your foot -into. Why, where have you been?” - -Some of the men turned round to look at him, and in the faint light he -was not a prepossessing object. His face and hair were dripping with -sweat, though the skin was ghastly white, and his distended nostril -and heaving chest showed how fear and physical effort had told upon him. - -“Looks as if he could tell us something about it,” muttered one of them. - -But Allen roughly forced his way through them, and fell on his knees -beside the captain, who was giving directions for lifting the body. - -“Benion!” he cried. “Good God! Why could he have done it?” - -His distress was so evident that his words turned their thoughts in a -new direction. - -“After all, the pore devil had the jimmies,” said the boatswain, “and -like as not he kicked the trigger off with his foot: must have got a -clip on the head as we went ashore.” - -The gun was still lying where it fell--the muzzle resting on the dead -man’s shoulder, and the butt on the sand beside his right knee. The -position was so consistent with the idea of suicide, that they at once -adopted it. - -“Well, it’s no good moving him till daylight,” said the captain. “Some -of you get a bit of sailcloth to cover him with, and let’s leave him -as he is until the morning. Now, my lads, turn in and get what sleep -you can, for we must be away at sun-up;” and he led the way back to the -camp, followed by most of the men. Allen went with them and lay down, -pretending to sleep rather than undergo the questions he thought might -follow. - -They were all astir before daybreak. The captain called Allen, as being -Benion’s fellow-passenger, and asked him whether he knew of anything -that would account for the suicide. - -“He had a box,” replied Allen, “in which he kept all our money. It was -lost in the schooner, and when he found that it was gone he lost his -head, as you saw.” - -“Where were you when the thing happened?” - -“I had left the camp on the other side. When I heard the gun go off I -ran in and found you round the body. When I left, Benion was sitting -here on the beach as he had been all day.” - -“H’m! You must have been a long time away,” said the captain, turning -to give orders about stowing the stores in the boat. Then taking with -him the mate and such of the sailors as were not employed, he walked to -the _dilo_-tree followed by Allen. At its foot a sailcloth was spread, -which had roughly taken the shape of the body it covered. In the grey -light Allen could see that one end of it was stained red and caked -hard. The captain saw it too, and said, “Don’t uncover the poor devil; -dig the hole here, and we’ll lift him into it just as he is.” - -Four sailors armed with bits of broken plank began to scrape up the -sand so as to form a hollow trench, and as the mound at the back grew -higher, the sand slipped down and met the pile Allen had made round -the buried chest. In a few moments a shallow trench had been dug, and -they lifted the stiff body still covered and lowered it gently into the -rough grave. - -“Hats off!” said the captain, gruffly, as he stepped to the side of the -grave. “Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. We commit his -body to the earth, in sure and certain hope that at the last day he -will rise again.” - -It was all that he could remember of the Burial Service, and he said it -defiantly as a man who does his duty regardless of the ridicule he may -provoke, and dropped a handful of the coral sand upon the canvas. - -“Now shovel in the sand,” he said, roughly; “we’ve done all we can for -the poor chap.” - -Allen was staring on the box. The creepers and sand he had thrown -upon it had taken the square form of the lid, and he could scarcely -believe that they had not seen it. But there were blood-stains on it. -He ran forward and shovelled the loose sand over them with his hands -so quickly that the work was done before another could come to his -assistance. - -Two hours later the crowded boat was running free, and the island, with -its fellow to the northward, had taken definite shape. - -“We must give it a name,” said the mate. “What’s it to be?” - -“It looks mighty like a boot from this side,” said the boatswain; “and -the island to the nor’ward’s like a shoe. Let’s call it Boot Island.” - -So Boot Island it was called. - - -III. - -How they reached Levuka at last, and parted company in that budding -centre of idleness and cheap liquor--some to work their passages to -Sydney, and others to scatter over the group--need not be related -here. To get away from something that lay on the beach at Boot Island -was Allen’s one desire. Drink is said to drown memories, so he tried -drinking; but it would not wash away certain dull red stains on a -background of white sand. And on the morning after the debauch the body -and mind are too weak to resist an angry past: besides, what might not -a man say when he was drunk? To move anyhow, anywhere, were better -than this. So he became a wanderer. But the human mind is fashioned -mercifully, and blunts with use. If the body be healthy, there is no -impression, however strong, that will not wear away with time. He -shipped in a whaler, but almost before the high land had melted into -the clouds he wished himself back again. He found so many excuses for -himself, and as poor Benion had killed himself, what good could the -box do him lying on the beach in Boot Island? The first man who landed -would find it and take it away, whereas, if he had it, he would keep -only his own share, and send the rest to Benion’s widow. He left the -ship at the first island they touched. It chanced to be Apemama in the -Line Islands, whose king, having vanquished most of the neighbouring -atolls, and sighing for other worlds to conquer, eagerly welcomed a -white man who could mend his three “Tower” muskets. - -[Illustration: LEVUKA.] - -He would stay there, he thought, until a vessel bound for Levuka put -in; but month followed month and no such ship came. He rose rapidly -from the post of chief armourer to be the king’s first minister, and -took to himself a woman of the place to be his wife. Ships put in -for provisions or to recruit labourers for the South American guano -islands; and as the king’s adviser, his services to the captains were -paid for, and the money hoarded. So three years slipped over his head, -and a ship put in at last wanting provisions, and bound to Levuka to -fill up with oil. Allen helped the captain to get his provisions, and -sold him his stock of pearl-shell, taking in part payment a passage for -himself, his native wife, and her niece. The ship got under weigh, and -stood on and off the island till nightfall, and Allen, guided by the -riding light, paddled off under cover of the darkness, and cast his -canoe adrift; for his royal patron had found him useful, and was prone -to secure his own comfort without due regard to the inclination of his -dependents. At Levuka he found that his countrymen were busy developing -the country with muskets and gunpowder. If a tribe would live it must -have as many firearms as its neighbours, and to obtain them it would -sell as much land as the foreigner wanted. And so, for ten muskets and -a keg of powder, Allen became the possessor of Boot Island, and the -vendor, pitying his simplicity, was ready to sell him two other rocky -islands on the same terms. - -He stood at last, as he had often dreamed, upon the beach where his -treasure was buried, and watched the little dinghy labouring out -towards the cutter, which presently swooped down upon it and bore it -away, running free towards the west. Then he turned to the two women, -who sat patiently by the pile of cases on the beach, and pointed to -the spot where they had made their camp-fires more than three years -ago. They left him to gather sticks, and he passed quickly round the -point that hid the _dilo_-tree under which he had buried the box. It -was just as he remembered it, save that the ground bore no sign of -ever having been disturbed. The creeping vine that lives between soil -and sand covered the place with a thick carpet of shiny leaves, and no -mound could now be traced. He tried to picture the spot as he had last -seen it--the flickering torchlight, the scared faces of the shipwrecked -sailors, and the blood-stained sand--but the bright sun threw a -checker-work of shade through the branches, and a fresh trade-wind bore -the smell of the sea to his nostrils, so that the picture would not fit -the frame, and the memory seemed less real to him than a nightmare. -Surely he had dreamed that Benion’s shattered body was buried here! If -it was true, where was the grave? and how could the whole place look -so bright and peaceful? But the box--that could have been no dream! It -was for that that he had come, and he must find it. He went resolutely -and stood against the gnarled trunk. Standing thus, as he had stood on -the night of the wreck, the box must be buried at his feet, but there -was nothing to show that the treasure and its silent guardian lay there -together. He stooped and tore away the matted vine, and the coral sand, -dulled with vegetable mould, lay bare. Yes, there was a slight swelling -of the sand here, but so slight that he could scarcely believe that -anything lay beneath it. Some one must have found and stolen it! With a -terrible sinking of the heart, that drove out all power of reasoning, -he fell on his knees and tore away the yielding sand with his fingers. -At the fourth plunge his heart stopped, for his hand struck against -something hard. He plunged it lower, hoping to feel the square corner, -but the thing was round and unfamiliar to the touch. A little lower, -and his fingers were beneath it, and with a fierce curiosity he tore it -upwards from its sandy bed. It threw the coarse sand from its slippery -sides, and lay inert--a shattered skull, with a patch of hair still -adhering to it! Allen sat staring with wide eyes at the grinning face -as it perched knowingly on a hillock of sand, and then, as it slid -over and rolled down towards him, he shrieked yell after yell of mad -laughter, and the women, running in the direction of the sound, found -him so. - - - - -THE HERMIT OF BOOT ISLAND. - - -It was past three o’clock when we cast off the buoy at Mango, and let -the schooner go free before the “trade.” It was blowing fresh, but she -was travelling faster than the seas themselves, and was as steady as a -rock. At dusk we were abreast of a precipitous island, steep, too, on -all sides but one, which ran off to a sloping point like the toe of a -boot. The skipper was gazing earnestly at the dark line of shore. - -“That’s Boot Island,” he said, in answer to my question; “and the other -you can just make out to the nor’ward they call Shoe Island. If there -was a light on that point I’d have to go in. The old devil that lives -there’s as crank as a March hatter, and I promised I’d go in if he -made a fire on the beach as I was passing. You see he might be sick or -something, and no one’d ever know. Nothing but a bird could land on -this side in weather like this. You’ve got to lie on and off on the -lee side and send a boat ashore. There’s no anchorage. He’s getting -very crank. Bickaway, the storekeeper, sent a boat last week for his -_copra_, but he wouldn’t let him land because it was Saturday. Said he -was getting ready for Sunday. The old beggar knew well enough that the -boat was chokeful of trade, and he and his women hadn’t enough clothes -to cover themselves decently. Bickaway yelled to him that his _copra_ -would be rotten before another boat came, but he stood on the beach -and waved him off. Said that he couldn’t land before Tuesday, because -on Monday he’d be meditating. No, he can’t starve. The women take good -care of that. Bickaway saw a fine patch of pumpkins and _kumalas_, -besides cocoa-nuts. He won’t catch fish, because he says it’s wicked -to take life. There’s only the two women on the place besides him--his -woman and her niece; and he must be pretty rough on them at times, or -the girl wouldn’t have swum all the way to Shoe Island, and got picked -up by the niggers. They brought her back, too, in their boat, and the -old chap let them land, and gave them half his _kumala_ crop--he, that -don’t like niggers, least of all the Yathata niggers! They say he’s a -Yankee, but no one knows for certain. I suppose I’m the only white -man as ever got into his house, and that was five years ago. Oh! it’s -a long yarn, and not worth telling. I was ‘_beech-de-mar-ing_’ at the -back of Taveuni. Hadn’t had any luck, and one of the niggers belonging -to Yathata--that’s Shoe Island yonder--says, ‘Why don’t you try -Yathata, and the white man’s island?’ So I went over there in a boat I -had, and worked her over the reef at spring-tide in very calm weather. -I’d heard a lot about old Simpson, that he wouldn’t let any one fish -his reefs, because the island was his; but I meant to fish whether or -no, as the nigger told me that the reef swarmed with teat-fish, and -the Chinamen in Levuka were giving fifty-five pounds a ton. As soon as -we let go the anchor, the old devil came out of a lean-to he’d knocked -together of packing-cases and rusty iron. He was the damnedest old -scarecrow you ever see, with a white beard down to his belt, a filthy -old shirt, and blue dungaree pants. I made the boys haul the anchor -short and keep lifting it, so as she dragged in, and I stood up in the -stern pretending to read a book I had.” - -The crest of a big sea surging past us lopped on deck, drenching us to -the knees. - -“_Uli!_” shouted the skipper to the native steersman. “Here! _Soro na -sila_, some of you!” and as they slacked off the sheet he drew me aft -out of the waist, and continued. - -“Well, as soon as we touched, I jumped out and waited for him. - -“‘What have you come for?’ says he. - -“‘Stress of weather and short provisions,’ I says. Then he stood -looking at me for about a minute, while I opened my book again. After -a bit he turned round, and went into his lean-to. When he’d gone in I -come up to the door. There was a mat or two on the bed-place, but the -floor was bare gravel, and the table an old packing-case nailed on two -sticks stuck in the ground. - -“‘What d’yer want?’ he says, when I looked in. - -“‘Nothing,’ says I, and sat down in the doorway. After a bit he says, -‘To-day’s the third of June, and a Thursday, else you couldn’t have -landed. Who’s Governor now?’ - -“‘Des Vœux,’ I says. - -“‘Never heard of him,’ says he; ‘thought Gordon was. What’s _copra_?’ - -“‘Ten pound five in Levuka.’ - -“‘Then I’ll get eight pound here,’ says he. ‘I see boats and steamers -go past most weeks, but I don’t hear much news. When are you going?’ - -“I wasn’t going to let on about the _beech-de-mar_ racket, so I opens -my book and sings ‘Rock of Ages cleft for me.’ Soon as I begun he comes -out and stands looking at me. I only knew one verse, but I kep’ on -and sung it three times over, keeping as near as I could to the tune, -and he kep’ looking at me all the time as solemn as a cockroach. When -I done it three times I sang Amen, and he went back into the shanty. -Then I took off my hat and knelt up with my hands clasped as if I -was praying to myself. Soon as I got up he says, ‘Come in, will yer, -and sit down a bit?’ and then he calls his woman and begins talking -Tokelau to her, and she fetched in a dish of hot _kumalas_ the old -devil had been keeping back till he thought I’d go. Then she got some -eggs and took ’em off to the cook-house, and the old beggar sat on the -bed all the time and said he’d wait till I’d done. But just as I’d -got hold of a _kumala_ he says, ‘Aren’t you going to say grace?’ a -bit suspicious-like, and I says, ‘Of course I am, but I always takes -hold of the food first;’ so I holds up the _kumalas_ over my head, and -says, ‘For what we’re going to receive, Amen.’ But when we’d done -dinner we were good friends, and he’d told me all about his soul, and -asked after mine; and he sends the girls off with _kumalas_ for my -boys. Then I says that idleness is a bad thing, and I’d like ’em to -do a little fishing on the reef at low tide, and he says, ‘But you -wouldn’t have them take life?’ - -“‘Certainly not,’ I says. ‘I wouldn’t kill a fish, not if it jumped -into my pocket and I was starving, but with _beech-de-mar_ it’s -different, for being a slug he ain’t got feelings, and even Darwin -ain’t sure that he ain’t a vegetable.’ - -“‘That’s so,’ says the old beggar. ‘Well, as long as they don’t fish on -Saturday or Sunday or Monday I don’t mind.’ - -“Well, by Friday night we’d got all the fish worth picking up on the -lee side, and I got away on the Saturday, and promised I’d call in if I -was passing, and there was a fire on the beach,--‘You might be wanting -something, or be sick,’ I says. - -“‘If I’m sick,’ he says, ‘I shan’t light a fire, for the Lord ’ll -provide.’ - -“Barring religion, the old devil wasn’t so very cranky, except about a -sort of fence he’d got under a _dilo_-tree. I thought it was a grave, -and went to look at it, but he come running after me with his eyes half -out of his head, and pulled me away by the arm. I suppose his woman had -had a kid that had died, and he’d got it buried there. Perhaps it’s -that that made him cranky. Well, there’s no fire on the beach, so if -he’s alive he don’t want anything.” - - - - -THE WARS OF THE FISHING-ROD. - - -Far up the great river there once dwelt three clans in brotherly love, -planting on the same lands, and giving their women to one another in -marriage. Brothers in arms they were, and staunch allies whenever the -hordes of Tholo made a descent upon them; nor could the elders remember -any interruption in their friendship except once, when the pigs of -Valekau destroyed the yam-gardens of Rara, and their owners would make -no reparation. But this was long ago, and the tradition had become -misty. - -Rara stood upon a high bluff on a bend of the river, precipitous -on three sides, and protected on the fourth by two ditches and an -earthwork. Valekau, sprung from the same ancestors and worshipping -the same gods, was built upon a lower hill a mile away, and set back -from the river-bank. It needed no protection but a war-fence on the -crest of the hill, and the gate was an arch formed by the roots of a -great banian-tree, so narrow that one warrior only could pass it at a -time. Tovutovu lay in the plain on the other side of the river. Five -ditches encircled it, having war-fences between each, and the gates -were cunningly devised, so that he who would enter must encompass the -town three times between the palisades before he could pass all the -gates, for none was opposite to the other. Tovutovu had not the same -gods as Rara, having descended later from the mountains to the plain. -But in peace-time they planted together, and the women fished _kais_ in -the common fishing-ground; and when the _lali_ beat for war, the young -men painted their faces and lay in ambush together, and the women and -children hid together in the forest behind Rara. - -Now strange things began to be brought up the river. First there -were rumours of foreigners who came up from the ocean in canoes like -islands for bigness. This, they thought, was but another lie of their -enemies, the coast-people. Next Seru of Rara brought a thing more solid -than rumour--an adze made of a hard substance that cut deep into the -toughest wood which the stone adze only chipped. The man who gave it -in Kasava told him that it was the least of the strange things the -foreigners had brought, and that the foreigners had white skins like -lepers, and covered them up with bark-cloth, being ashamed to show -aught but their faces because of the colour. Also their noses were as -long as bananas, and they spoke with women’s voices. - -Thenceforward the young men made many journeys down the river as far as -they dared, and brought back with them other strange things--cloth not -made from bark, but of a substance that could be washed without injury, -and iron of many shapes that could be beaten out between two stones -into adze-blades; and one of them brought back a tale of a devil the -foreigners had which thundered, and every time it thundered a man fell -dead, pierced through the body with an unseen spear. There was much -striving between the clans to possess these strange things, and they -were begged of the young men, and begged again of him to whom they were -given, so that they passed from one to another until each of the elders -had called them his. But they all yearned to possess the devil of the -foreigners that thundered, and the young men made many journeys hoping -to possess one, and returned with many things, but always without this -devil that they wanted. And one day when the youths of Rara returned -from down the river, the young man Bativundi came running to the elders -of Valekau as they sat at sunset in the great _bure_. - -“The youths of Rara have returned from below, and it is said that they -have brought with them a wonderful thing with which the foreigners take -fish. It is a stick that grows long at will, as a bamboo shoots up from -the ground; and from the top there comes a string, having at the end a -fly with a hook hidden in its belly. This is the way of it. A man holds -the stick in his hand and waves it, and the stick, being pliable, makes -the fly dance upon the water; and whether it be magic, or whether the -fish be befooled, I know not, yet they bite the fly and are pierced -with the hook, and so drawn to land. No such thing has been seen in our -land, for one man between sunrise and mid-day can take more fish than -all Valekau can eat.” - -“_Kombo!_” cried the elders. “Let us send an embassy to Rara to beg -this stick that we may eat fish and live.” - -So on the morrow Nkio took a root of _yangona_ in his hand and went to -Rara, saying, “I am come to beg the stick with which fish are taken. -It is the word of the chiefs of Valekau, your relations, that I beg -this stick.” - -Now the men of Rara had touched the _yangona_-root, and clapped their -hands, and they sat silent as if not knowing what answer to make. -But at last one of them said, “Be not angry, Nkio, but return to -Valekau, saying, ‘We are a poor land, and it is difficult to grant your -request.’” So Nkio returned and spoke as he had been bidden. - -Valekau sat in council, and their hearts were grieved. Did Rara weigh -their friendship so lightly that they wantonly refused a gift begged -with the proper ceremonies? It was a gross insult. Rara esteemed them -as slaves, things of no account, to be flouted at will; but they should -know that a long peace does not blunt the spears nor paralyse the arms -of Valekau. The bodies of their youths were not gross with slothful -ease, nor the limbs of their elders stiff with wallowing on the mats. -This insult must be paid for! But how? Then spoke Bonawai, the Odysseus -of the tribe, versed in all the wiles and craft that bring a people to -greatness--_Bonawai na dau vere_, Bonawai the schemer. - -“Hearken!” he said, contracting his brows until his wicked eyes gleamed -like fire-sticks. “Rara is a stronghold set upon a hill, and the young -men within it are as the _kai_-shells about the cooking-places for -multitude, and they have Wanganivanua and Tumbanasolo, both terrible in -war. If a man would climb the hill on this side, surely his body would -be like a _balawa_-tree at the cross-roads, at which the boys throw -their reeds, so thick would it be stuck with spears; and if we lie in -ambush for their women when they dig the yams, and bring the bodies -home to be baked, we should not triumph long, for they would come upon -us at first cock-crow, and if they feared to scale the war-fence, they -would bind balls of lighted _masi_ to their spear-heads and throw -them into the thatch to windward, and while we were scurrying about -foolishly, like ants whose nest the digging-stick has probed, striving -to extinguish the fire, they would leap the fence and club us in the -darkness from behind. For I know the men of Rara how crafty and subtle -they are in wiles of war; yet there is none among them so crafty as -I. Now listen! Across the river are the men of Tovutovu. Let us send -to them, saying, ‘Come! You are our brothers. In Rara there is much -plunder, and women fair to look upon, and the men are puffed up with -pride,--living as they do in so strong a fortress,--and call you and us -their slaves. They have, besides, a certain stick--a magic contrivance -of the foreigners--that takes fish until a man wearies of holding it. -This we begged of them that we might give it to you, but they, knowing -our intention, refused. Therefore, come! Let us wipe them out, and -we will divide the spoil and the dead bodies and the slave-women as -becomes chiefs.’ And if it happen that Rara be too strong for us, and -we be repulsed, then we will send whales’ teeth to them, saying, ‘The -men of Tovutovu seduced us, but if ye will, we will join you and cross -the river and club these strangers of Tovutovu, dividing the spoil and -the dead bodies as becomes chiefs.’ These are my words to you!” - -And the elders cried, “_Vinaka, Vinaka!_” and clapped their hands. - -Then an embassy was chosen,--Mawi, the left-handed, and Waleka, the -orator,--and they took a whale’s tooth and crossed over to Tovutovu in -the night, and spoke the words of Bonawai as they had been bidden. And -the elders of Tovutovu took the whale’s tooth in token that they would -do the behest of which it was an emblem; and the young men prepared -black paint for their faces, and streamers of smoked _masi_ for their -elbows, and turbans, and dyed rushes for leg-ornaments, and arrayed -themselves for war. And they came out into the square in the evening -before the elders and the women, and boasted, looking very terrible -with their weapons. And one ran forward and smote the earth thrice -with his club, so that it trembled, and he cried, “Fear not, aged men, -this club is your shield!” And another took his place, and gnashed his -teeth, crying, “My name is ‘Man-eater.’ The corpses of Rara are my -food!” And another cried, “My arms rest only when I am clubbing!” And -another, “Lead me on, for I bark for human flesh!” - -So they became exceeding bold with their boasting, each vying with -the other, and the maidens saw their valour and admired them, and the -elders laughed, crying, “Well done!” And towards evening the words of -Bonawai came to them, bidding them cross over under cover of the night -and attack Rara from the front at first cock-crow, for Valekau would -yield them the place of honour, and themselves attack from the forest. -So when evening was come they crossed the river at the bend where the -bananas are, and came out into the yam-gardens. Here two old women -of Rara were carrying home loads of firewood on their backs, fearing -nothing, for it was peace-time; but when they saw the blackened faces -of the warriors and the weapons they shrieked loudly, and threw down -their burdens to run towards Rara. But the army of Tovutovu set upon -them, and Rasolo, being swiftest of foot, reached them first, and -slew them with his throwing-club as they lay upon the ground crying -for mercy, and shielding their heads with their hands. Then they went -to Valekau to wait until the moon set. And about midnight the men of -Valekau left them and climbed into the forest, so as to descend upon -Rara from behind, and intercept the fugitives, saying, “Let us attack -just before the birds awake, for then is sleep heaviest upon men.” - -[Illustration: “_Rasolo, being swiftest of foot, reached them first, -and slew them with his throwing-club._”] - -So before the first cock crowed the men of Tovutovu crept up the hill -from all sides, and the army of Valekau crawled down the ridge in the -forest to attack the war-fence at the back of the fortress; but ere -they reached it a green parrot heard them, and flew shrieking to its -mates, “Awake, awake!” and a man of Rara, who chanced to be without, -said within himself, “A green parrot never cries save when alarmed by -men, and men are not abroad at this hour save for some evil,” so he -cried to his fellows in the great _bure_, “There is war! Make ready!” -And they, suddenly awakened, snatched every man a weapon, and ran -hither and thither in the darkness, not knowing what they did. And the -women shrieked, and the children wailed, and there was a great uproar. -And when the men of Valekau heard it they leapt into the ditch, caring -nothing for the sharp stakes, and tore down the war-fence, and thrust -fire-sticks into the thatch of the houses, and the wind from the forest -fanned the glow into a flame, and the thatch was ignited so that it -became as light as day. The men of Rara stopped not to strike at them, -but fled down the hill towards the river like a mountain torrent after -rain; and as the torrent sweeps away the dead wood that has choked its -bed, so they bore down the army of Tovutovu before them, who, thinking -themselves attacked, struck at them and fled, leaving the way clear. -And so eager were the men of Valekau for plunder, that not one pursued, -and all escaped but some women and children who knew not whither to -flee. So Rara was burned, and their yam-gardens destroyed, and the -army of Valekau carried away the plunder and the dead bodies, and -shared them with Tovutovu as became chiefs. But though they searched -diligently, yet they did not find the cause of the war--the stick -with which fish are taken; and they sent to Tovotovu, saying, “If we -had found it, it should have been your portion; but the Kai Rara are -crafty, and must have buried it. Yet we send you bodies for the oven.” -Thus was Rara wiped out, and Valekau and Tovutovu divided the spoil. - -Now the people of Rara fled into the forest and dwelt there many -days, eating wild yams, and seeking a place to flee to. And they -sent messengers down the river to the chiefs of Korokula asking for -protection, and leave to settle on their lands. And when the messengers -returned they removed thither and built houses at Lawai, a little below -Korokula, and their young men worked for Korokula, planting yams and -bananas, and taking food in return until their own should be ripe. But -the chiefs of Korokula oppressed them, saying, “These are fugitives. -Are they not our slaves to do as we will with?” And they killed their -pigs, and took their women as it pleased them. And the men of Rara -murmured, but endured, not knowing whither to flee. But at last, on a -certain day, a chief of Korokula was thirsty, and had no _yangona_, -and he said to his young men, “I have seen a great root growing on -the house foundation of Dongai of Rara. Go and tear it up, and chew -it here before me that we may drink.” And the men of Rara said among -themselves, “They have killed our pigs, and taken our women, and we -bore it. Now they tear up our _yangona_. How can this be endured? Yet -we are not strong enough to set upon them, for they are more numerous -than we. Let us now send an atonement to Valekau, and ask for peace to -rebuild our houses upon our own earth and upon the foundations of our -ancestors.” So they took whales’ teeth, and sent them by the hand of -a herald to Valekau. And when the elders of Valekau doubted whether -they should take them, the crafty Bonawai counselled them, saying, -“There is now peace, but we are few in number. What if the tribes above -descend upon us? How shall we alone resist them? Let Rara return, for -in war they will help us against our enemies, and in peace they will -fear us and do our bidding. Of this the whales’ teeth are a token.” So -they accepted the atonement, and the fugitives returned, and rebuilt -their houses upon their own earth and upon the foundations of their -ancestors. And Valekau made a great feast for them, and presented it -with all the proper ceremonies in token that the past was forgotten. - -Now, after many months, when the yams were ripe again, the men of Rara -began to speak among themselves of how they might best repay the debt -they owed to Valekau; and the elder, Dongai, counselled them, saying, -“This Valekau is puffed up with pride, and all men hate them. It was -but yesterday that I heard Tabuanisoro of Tovutovu say that his people -were weary of their doings. Of ourselves we are too few to repay them, -but if Tovutovu were our allies---- Let us therefore make a feast for -them, and try them.” So they made a feast, and challenged Tovutovu to -play at _tinka_ with them. And the young men of Tovutovu brought their -_ulutoa_[3] to the _tinka_-ground and were victorious. And in the -evening, when the elders were drinking _yangona_ in the great _bure_, -Dongai spoke a parable to them. “The blue heron saw the rat eating fish -that the tide had left, and he asked for it; but the rat said, ‘The -gods sent this fish for me and mine, and they have given thee a long -beak wherewith to catch fish in the pools where I cannot go.’ Then the -blue heron was angry and spoke to the crab, saying, ‘This fellow is -become a fish-eater and takes our food. Come, let us drive him out, and -thy portion shall be the hole that he has made.’ So they came upon the -rat in the night-time, and the crab nipped his tail and he fled. But -the crab did not have his hole, for the blue heron took it. And he was -puffed up with pride, and flapped his wings, and said to the crab, ‘My -legs are longer than thine, therefore am I set a chief over thee. Bring -me thy fish.’ Is this a true story, chiefs of Tovutovu?” - -And they said, “Yes, it is true.” - -And he said, “Now hear what the crab did. The rat came back and spoke -to the crab, saying, ‘Why didst thou bite my tail? Did I refuse thee -fish? If thou hadst asked me I would have given thee all my fish. My -quarrel was with the blue heron, yet thou camest in the night and -nipped my tail; and now the blue heron oppresses us both. But he sleeps -at night. Now thou shalt go and seize him by the foot, and I will climb -upon his back, and bite his neck, and he shall not fly away because -thou shalt hold his foot between thy pincers. When he is dead we will -share the fish of all the coast between us, but thou shalt have the -greater share.’” - -And for a space all looked upon the ground and picked at the mats with -their fingers. Then Tambuanisoro said, “It is a good story, and also -true!” - -And on the morrow Rara and Tovutovu took the first-fruits of the yams -to Valekau as men take the first-fruits to a great chief. And they -said, “You are now our fortress and our head. These are the wretched -first-fruits of our barren gardens, for you know that we are a poor -people not meet to offer food to chiefs.” And then they piled the great -yams high in the square, and bound live pigs beside the pile, and the -men of Valekau accepted them, and their senses were dulled by the -flattery. And they made a feast for their guests, and the ovens were -opened about sunset, so they feasted until late in the night. - -Then Dongai said, “It is yet day. Have you no dance? The dance is -fitting when the men are filled with pig.” - -And the elders of Valekau called to their young men to make ready, and -Dongai said, “I will send our young men to the forest to get torches.” -And he sent them, saying, “Go and make torches of reeds, and bring in -secretly whatever the women have brought you from Rara.” And they went -out into the road and called softly, and the women came out of the -reeds and gave them clubs hidden in bunches of dry reeds like torches; -and the men cut reeds and made torches there and returned to the town, -having in the right hands a lighted torch, and in the left the torch -that hid their clubs. Then the men of Valekau danced before the chiefs -a war-dance with spears and clubs, the elders beating the ground with -the bamboo drums, and the chiefs of Rara and Tovutovu applauded, crying -“_Vinaka!_” many times; but Dongai said, “This is well done, but my men -know a stranger dance than this--a war-dance taught by the gods of the -old time, but now forgotten.” And Bonawai laughed and said, “_Veka._ -Do your young men know things that are forgotten, and can they surpass -ours in the dance?” And Dongai said, “Who knows? Let them be tried. -Only they have left their dresses and their weapons in Rara.” - -So Bonawai called to the youths of Valekau, who stood panting and -sweating behind the torches: “Take ye the torches, and give your clubs -to these gods of Rara who can dance better than ye.” And the men of -Rara took the clubs, and squatted four deep with the weapons poised, -while the elders beat the drums and chanted. And the men of Valekau -derided them, for their faces were not blacked for dancing. - -Now the men of Ram had given their spare torches to the men of -Tovutovu, and as they stood in the shadows behind the torches they -stripped the reeds from the clubs and held them behind their backs. And -suddenly the dancers rose with a great shout, and rushed forward with -brandished clubs, making the earth tremble. Then they retreated, and -again rushed forward, spreading in a line facing the elders of Valekau -as they sat under the cocoa-nut palms, and as they whirled their clubs -in the dance the leader cried “_Ravu!_” (strike), and they struck, but -not in the air, for every man struck the head of the man before him. -And the men of Tovutovu struck at the torchbearers from behind, and the -rest fled, crying, “Treachery!” But when they reached the upper gate -the men of Rara stood there, and cried, “Payment!” and when they would -escape by the lower gate they found the men of Tovutovu there also, -and in their madness they tore down the war-fence and leaped into the -ditch, where many were impaled on the sharp stakes they themselves had -set up. And the victors fired the houses, and ran hither and thither -clubbing all they met; and had it not been for the darkness surely -none would have escaped, for the men of Rara pitied none save a few -women they took alive for slaves, but ran about crying “Bring torches!” -and slaying. So that night was called _Mai-na-cina_ (bring torches), -because of the cry of Rara as they were slaying. Thus was Valekau wiped -out, and Rara and Tovutovu divided the spoil. - -Now the men of Valekau fled to the forest, and they counted those who -were missing, and mourned over them. And Bonawai said, “This has been a -grievous night, and there must be payment for it, but not now, for many -brave warriors are fallen, and many of our _katikati_,[4] therefore are -we become as helpless as the straws whirled onward by a swift current. -Let us flee to the caves, and dwell there until our way be plain.” So -they dwelt many months in the caves, eating wild yams and bush-pigs. - -And after many months the chiefs of Rara, whose mothers were Valekau -women, said, “Let our vasu return, for it is a shame to us that our -mothers’ folk should be rooting in the forest like wild boars. Also -they are few, and cannot harm us.” And the chiefs of Tovutovu agreed. -So messengers were sent to the caves, saying, “Your _vasu_ bid you -return and fear not.” - -So they returned and built houses upon their own earth and upon -the foundations of their ancestors, only they did not repair their -war-fences. And they planted yams, and dug them, and planted them -again, and still there was peace; but Bonawai pondered deeply in those -days how the payment might be accomplished. - -Now they took their first-fruits to Rara in token of submission, and -Bonawai presented them and said, “We are poor. All our chiefs are gone, -and only we, the low-born, remain to bring this poor offering to you, -our elder brothers. Payment has been made as is right; for between -brothers ill-will is buried when payment has been made, and alliances -are renewed for war against the stranger. But my words are too long -already--_Mana-e-dina!_” - -And the men of Rara answered, “_Va-arewa-ia-ē_,” and clapped their -hands. - -And that night Vasualevu of Rara, whose mother was a Valekau woman, -spoke to his _vasu_, and asked whether Bonawai’s words were double. -And they said, “Yes. We had a quarrel with you about a certain stick -with which fish are taken--a magic contrivance of the foreigners--and -we burned your fortress, and you in turn burned ours. Thus there was -payment as is fitting between brothers. But with these low-born of -Tovutovu we had no quarrel, neither had ye, yet they burned both your -town and ours, and baked the bodies of your relations, and even now -they feed the pigs they took from Rara and Valekau. All this they did -though they are not our brothers, but strangers. Shall not payment be -taken for all these things?” - -And Vasualevu told the elders of Rara that night as they lay in the -great _bure_, and Dongai said, “Are the words true or false? Surely -they are true! What root of quarrel had we with this Tovutovu that -they clubbed our women and burned our fortress? But for them we should -not have been fugitives, oppressed of Korokula, for Valekau dared not -to fight us alone. Even now, perhaps, they laugh at us in Tovutovu, -and grow fat upon our pigs. Shall not payment be taken for all these -things?” - -And the elders said, “It is true. Let us send to Bonawai, the crafty, -to devise a plan.” - -So they sent a messenger to Valekau, and he said, “Go, tell the chiefs -of Rara that I have seen their great _bure_. It is ruinous, for the -king-post is rotten. Let Tovutovu cut them a new post.” Now this was -true, for when the _bure_ was burned the king-post was not consumed, -and they rebuilt the house, using the old post. - -So the chiefs of Rara sent to Tovutovu, saying, “Help us to rebuild our -great _bure_, for the post is rotten. We have seen a _vesi_-tree seven -fathoms long, and of great girth, which two men with outstretched arms -cannot encompass. Let this be your work, for you are more numerous than -we.” - -And they said, “It is well.” - -And every day the young men cut reeds and bamboos for the house in the -plain across the river by Tovutovu, and cried to the people weeding -their yams, “Our task is near finished; only the king-post is wanting.” - -So the Tovutovu chiefs took the young men up the river to the great -_vesi_-tree, and lit a fire about it to burn up the sap, and cut it -down with their adzes. Then they lopped off the branches, and cut a -hole in the butt of the tree, and took vines as thick as a man’s thigh -and passed them through the hole, and dragged the tree inch by inch -on rollers till they got it into the river. And they made rafts of -bamboo, and bound them to the sides of the tree to make it lighter. -And when night came on they camped on the river-bank, where they could -hear the water swishing past the tree. And they sent a messenger to -Rara, saying, “The tree is fallen!” This was for a sign to them to make -ready for the feast, according to custom. And the messenger returned -and said, “Drag the post to Vatuloaloa, where the river widens, and no -farther; there we will make a feast, and bring the post to Rara on the -morrow.” - -So they toiled all the next day, dragging the post down the river, for -there had been no rain, and the water was very shallow. And when they -drew near Vatuloaloa they put on leaf girdles and blue conch-shells and -chanted-- - - - “E-mbia wanga é-mbi, - E-dua thombo, ié!” - - -and each time they cried _ié!_ they hauled on the vine-rope with all -their strength, and the great tree moved on a step. And now they had -come to a place where the river was hemmed in with high cliffs, and -the bed was obstructed by great boulders that had fallen from above. -They could see the black rocks of Vatuloaloa below them. And there was -a shout from the cliffs above, and when they looked up they saw the -men of Rara standing on the edge, but instead of food-baskets they -had spears and war-fans in their hands, and their faces were painted. -And there came a shout from the cliff toward Tovutovu, and they looked -and saw the men of Valekau standing prepared for battle. And one said, -“What does Valekau here prepared for battle? Surely this is treachery!” -So they threw down the Vine-rope and shouted, “How is it?” And the -men of Valekau answered, “You shall be repaid to-day!” And they threw -great stones down on them as they stood waist-deep in the angry water, -and the men of Tovutovu fled, some up-stream and some down, splashing -the water high above them; but when they reached the low bank there -were armed men guarding them. Thus were they like a wild boar at bay -encircled by barking dogs. And in their madness they took stones from -the river-bed, and ran at the men of Valekau; but many were slain, and -those who escaped lay all day in the thick rushes, and saw a great -smoke rising from the plain where Tovutovu was, and knew that the doom -of their wives and children was accomplished. And when night was come -they crept from their hiding-places, and fled into the forest until the -remnant of them was gathered together there. Thus was Tovutovu wiped -out, and Rara and Valekau divided the spoil. - -And the remnant of them went up the river to Uthadamu, and dwelt there -many months. But their hearts yearned after their own land. So when -the yams were ripe they sent an embassy to Rara saying, “We are few -in number and in pitiable plight. We pray you, let us return again -to our own earth and the foundations of our ancestors, that we may -breathe again.” And the messenger returned, and said, “They accepted -the whales’ teeth and said, ‘It is well. Return.’” So they went back, -and built houses on their old foundations, and sent to Rara saying, -“Appoint a day when we shall bring you offerings of atonement.” - -And the elders of Rara spoke to the chiefs of Valekau, “Are we not -weary of war? Our young men thirst only for battle, and neglect the -food-plantations, so there is scarcity. It was not so when we were -young. Now therefore let us lay war aside, and make peace.” - -So they appointed a day when they should all meet together and take -counsel. And on the appointed day the men of Tovutovu brought whales’ -teeth and rolls of bark-cloth, and presented them to the chiefs of -Rara and Valekau as an offering of atonement. And Dongai said, “We -are met to-day to make peace, for we are all weary of war. Many brave -warriors are dead, and the land is empty. As for us of Rara, the war -did not come from us. We only repaid that which was done to us. To what -end has it been, this fighting between brothers?” - -Then Bonawai of Valekau spoke. “It is true, O chiefs of Rara, that the -war has been an evil one, for all our fortresses have been burned, and -the land is empty. But neither did the war begin with us. True it is -that the tree grows from the root, but there would be no root unless a -seed had first been sown. Chiefly do I blame you, chiefs of Rara, for -you were the cause of these wars. Have you forgotten that stick with -which fish are taken--a magic contrivance of the foreigners--by which -a man could stand and take fish until his arms fell to his sides from -weariness? This we sent to beg of you, and you churlishly refused.” - -The men of Rara bowed their heads, and picked at the ground. Then -Dongai spoke: “O chiefs of Valekau, it is true that ye sent to beg this -stick, but we hungered for fish, and--how could we give it, not having -yet seen its magic?--and--and----” - -“And ye knew not how to use it,” said Vasualevu. - -“Then,” said Nkio, the herald, “if it be peace show us now this magic -stick, for we know that ye have it hidden.” - -“We cannot show it to you.” - -“Why?” - -“We dare not, lest the gods of the foreigners be angry.” - -“This is foolishness,” muttered the elders of Valekau. “What peace is -this when we ask and are refused? We pray you, show us the stick.” - -“Be not angry, O chiefs of Valekau, but in truth we know not where it -is.” - -Then the anger of Valekau was roused, and they said, “Ye are befooling -us! Have ye forgotten how ye refused us before?” And they began to go -out from the house. - -Then Koronumbu of Rara spoke. “Why do ye hide the truth in doubtful -sayings? Know then, chiefs of Valekau, that we never had this stick ye -speak of, but when ye sent to beg it of us shame came upon us that we -had it not, and we could not tell you, fearing that ye would despise -us.” - -There was silence for a space, and the elders of Rara sat with bowed -heads. Then Bonawai, the crafty, spoke, “See that ye tell no one, for -if the coast people hear this tale how shall we endure their ridicule -when they ask us, ‘Why went ye up against Rara? Did ye hunger for -fish?’ Therefore hide this thing, and let no one know it.” - -FOOTNOTES: - -[3] A reed-lance tipped with ironwood (_toa_) with which the game of -_tinka_ is played. - -[4] Women and children--non-combatants. - - - - -THE FIRST COLONIST. - - -This is a true story, or at least it is as true as any other that -depends for its details upon tradition. It is the story of a man who -had an opportunity and used it; who, being but a shipwrecked sailor, -knew how to make himself feared and respected by the arrogant chiefs -who had him at their mercy; who tasted the sweets of conquest and -political power; and who brought about, albeit indirectly, the cession -of Fiji to England. Many have the dry bones of the story--how the -Swede, Charles Savage, a shipwrecked sailor or runaway convict, armed -with the only musket in the islands, raised Bau from the position of -a second-rate native tribe to be mistress of the greater part of the -group; and how after a few years of violence and bloodshed he was -killed and eaten by the people of Wailea who thus avenged hundreds -of their countrymen whom Savage had helped to bring to the ovens of -Bau. To clothe these dry bones with living flesh we must turn to -native tradition,--those curious records, often silent as to great -events, while preserving the most trivial details--often indifferent to -sequence, always disdainful of chronology. - -Fiji is linked to the rest of the Pacific by that romantic history, -stranger and more absorbing than any fiction, which ended in the -tragedy and the pastoral comedy of Pitcairn Island; for Lieutenant -Hayward, who was despatched from Tonga in a native canoe by Captain -Edwardes of the Pandora to search for the missing mutineers of the -Bounty, was the first white man of whose landing in Fiji we have any -authentic record. His visit was forgotten by the natives in the horror -of the great pestilence, the _Lila balavu_, or wasting sickness, the -first-fruits of their intercourse with the superior race. “From that -time,” says an epic of the day, “our villages began to be empty of -men, but in the time before the coming of the sickness every village -was so crowded that there was no space to see the ground between the -men, so crowded were they.” From this pestilence dated the custom -of strangling those sick of a lingering illness lest they should, in -the malignity of misery, spit upon the food and lie upon the mats of -the healthy, and thus make them companions in their suffering. No -wasting sickness was like the great _Lila_, for men and women lay till -the bark-clothes rotted from their bodies, and their heads seemed in -comparison to be larger than food-baskets; and they were so feeble that -they lacked the strength to pull down a sugar-cane to moisten their -parched throats unless four crawled out to lend their strength to the -task. - -Twelve years passed. The places of the dead were filled. The crops and -animals wasted in the funeral feasts were again abundant, when the men -of the eastern isles saw white men for the second time. On a night -in the year 1803 there was a great storm from the east. When morning -broke and the men of Oneata looked towards the dawn, they saw a strange -sight. On the islet Loa, that marks the great reef Bukatatanoa, red -streamers were waving in the wind. Strange beings, too, were moving on -the islet--spirits without doubt. There were visitors in Oneata, men of -Levuka in the island of Lakeba, offshoots in past time from distant -Bau, holding special privileges as ambassadors who linked the eastern -with the western islands. Two of these, bolder and more sophisticated -than the natives of the place, launched a light canoe and paddled -cautiously towards Loa. They gazed from afar, resting on their paddles, -and returned with this report: “Though they resemble men, yet they -are spirits, for their ears are bound up with scarlet, and they bite -burning wood.” Then the elders of Oneata took much counsel together, -wishing yet fearing to approach the spirits that were on Loa; but at -last they bade the young men launch the twin canoe Taiwalata, and -sailed for Loa. And as they drew near, the strange spirits beckoned -to them, until at last they drifted to the shore and took them into -the canoe to carry them to Oneata. But one of them they proved to be -mortal as themselves, for he was buried on Loa, being dead, whether of -violence or disease will never now be known. Here the traditions become -confused. There were muskets and ammunition in the wrecked ship, but -the men of Oneata knew nothing of their uses, else had the history of -Fiji perhaps been different. They hid the casks of powder to be used as -pigment for the face, and the ramrods to be ornaments for the hair. -And one of them, says the tradition, smeared the wet pigment over -hair and all, and when it would not dry as charcoal did, but lay cold -and heavy in the hair, he made a great fire in the house and stooped -his head to the blaze to dry the matted locks! None knew what befell. -There was a sudden flash, very bright and hot, and a tongue of flame -leaped from the head and licked the wall, and the chief sprang into the -rara with a great cry, for his hair was gone, and the skull was more -naked than on the day when he was born. It was, they said, the work of -spirits; and they used the black powder no more. - -The strangers had scarce landed when a second great pestilence broke -out. There is pathos in the fragmentary saga of the time which has been -handed down to us-- - - - “The great sickness sits aloft, - Their voices sound hoarsely, - They fall and lie helpless and pitiable, - Our god Dengei is put to shame, - Our own sicknesses have been thrust aside, - The strangling-cord is a noble thing, - They fall prone; they fall with the sap still in them. - - * * * * * * * - - A lethargy has seized upon the chiefs, - How terrible is the sickness! - We do not live; we do not die, - Our bodies ache; our heads ache, - Many die, a few live on, - The strangling-cord brings death to many, - The _malo_ round their bellies rots away, - Our women groan in their despair, - The _liku_ knotted round them they do not loose, - Hark to the creak of the strangling-cords, - The spirits flow away like running water, _ra tau e_.” - - -Many of the foreigners never left Oneata alive. A doubtful tradition -ascribes their death to the pestilence; a more detailed says that they -were slain by the men of Levuka. As the natives believed them to be the -cause of the sickness, we may accept the more tragic of the two. - -It was a year of terror. Here is a fragment of another poem of the same -time:-- - - - “Sleeping in the night I suddenly awake, - The voice of the pestilence is borne to me, _uetau_, - I go out and wander abroad, _uetau_, - It is near the breaking of the dawn, _uetau_, - Behold a forked star, _uetau_, - We whistle with astonishment as we gaze at it, _uetau_, - What can it portend? _uetau_, - Does it presage the doom of the chiefs? _e e_.” - - -From contemporary traditions we gather that the comet had three tails, -the centre tail being coloured and the two outer white; that it rose -just before daybreak, and that it was visible for thirty-seven nights -in succession. Was this the comet of 1803, or Donati’s? Here, as in -all ages and countries, the comet was believed to be an omen of coming -evil--not the ravages of the unknown plague, but the death of some -great chief. In like manner the comet of 1843 presaged the fall of -Suva, and that of 1881 the death of King Cakobau. - -Bau was now rising into fame. Her people, like their neighbours of the -Rewa delta, had swept down from the sources of the Rewa, the cradle -of the race, had for a time held a precarious footing among the older -tribes by dint of constant fighting, and had at last fought and schemed -their way to independence. Opposite to their stronghold Kubuna lay -the tiny island of Bau, protected from a land attack by two miles of -shallow sea. - -Bau, or Butoni as it was then called, was occupied by the chiefs’ -fishermen, who bartered their fish for the produce of the plantations -on the mainland. But the security of their island made them insolent, -and, to punish them, the chiefs resolved to attack and occupy their -village. The incursion was made about the year 1760, and the fishermen -were banished from the place for a time. With the help of their -dependants the chiefs scarped away the side of the hills and reclaimed -land from the shallow sea, facing it with slabs of stone. Thenceforth -Butoni was known as Bau, the place of chiefs. - -Secure in their island stronghold, the chiefs of Bau soon forgot -their common origin with the poor relations they had left behind on -the mainland to cultivate the plantations. The pursuit of arms has in -every age conferred aristocracy, while the cultivation of the food on -which warriors and cultivators alike exist has ever tended to sink men -to serfdom. Under Banuve, the son of Durucoko, Bau had begun to make -her power felt. Banuve had a definite policy; he tolerated no rivals. -When the chief of Cautata presumed on his relationship to Bau by his -mother, no warning was given him. He was attacked in the night, and his -stronghold of Oloi burned. Yet this harsh discipline failed to satisfy -his jealous kinsman. Intrenchments could be rebuilt, and half-beaten -tribes are doubly dangerous. Eight times was Cautata rebuilt, and -eight times was it reduced to ashes; nor was there peace until earth -had been brought as a _soro_, and Cautata had acknowledged herself to -be a hewer of wood and a drawer of water for Bau. But Banuve did not -often risk open battle when there were so many who would fight for -fighting’s sake. In his day Bau was first known as the nest in which -plots were hatched, because Bau knew that the whale’s tooth proffered -to an ally in secret was a surer weapon than the club. When the comet -threw its glare over Bau, presaging evil, there were two States against -whom Banuve’s plots could not prevail. Seven miles north of the little -island was Verata, an intrenched fort in a deep bay that faces the -island of Viwa. Till Bau was colonised, Verata drew tribute from the -coast as far as Buretu, and the struggle for the mastery was ever -impending. To the southward was Dravo allied with Nakelo, too strong to -be yet attempted. - -Such was the position of Bau when the pestilence reached it, by means, -it is said, of a canoe from Ovalau. Cholera, dysentery, or whatever it -may have been, it struck chief and commoner alike. “Their limbs became -light, and when they would walk they reeled and fell, and where they -fell they lay; nor was there any to tend them, for all were stricken -alike. Then did war cease, for the strong warriors were stricken and -withered like the _daiga_ that droops in the evening. They were as -men bereft of sense, for those who had strength launched the canoes -and sailed away, and the sick died more swiftly when there was none -left to bring them food: their bodies rotted in the houses, or were -devoured by the hogs. Yet the living could not escape by flight, for -the pestilence, borne on the wind that filled their sails, overtook -them even in the place whither they fled.... None can tell the terror -and the pity of that time.” - -From Bau, however, they did not attempt to escape, for the sickness -was raging on the mainland opposite to them, and beyond the mountains -there were none but enemies. They stayed and sickened and died, and -the last to die was Banuve, surnamed Sevuniqele (“the first-fruits”), -their Vunivalu. And his spirit went and stood on the bank of the -swift stream at Lelele, and Cema answered his cry, and brought to him -the vesi canoe on which chiefs only may embark. And he crossed the -eel-bridge and made ready his stone to throw at the great pandanus -by which the love of wives is proved. And his stone went true to the -mark. So he rested, knowing that his wives must soon follow him to -bear him company in the world of spirits. Nor did he wait in vain, for -on that very day four of his wives were strangled and buried with him -in the same tomb. Henceforth he was not Banuve, but Bale-i-vavalagi -(“He-who-fell-by-the-foreign-pestilence”). The doom of the forked star -had fallen. - -Banuve’s eldest son, Ra Matenikutu (“The lice-killer”), succeeded -naturally to the office of Vunivalu; but the rites of confirmation -could not be performed until the arrival of the men of Levuka, whose -peculiar province it is to conduct the ceremony. The traditions of -Oneata say that they took with them to Bau on this occasion one of the -white men; but the historians of Bau affirm that they came bringing -with them no strangers, but a canvas house and the first foreign -possessions seen by the Bauans. - -We shall never know now what became of the red-capped sailors cast upon -the reef at the ends of the earth in that stormy night of 1803. Perhaps -they perished of the disease they brought with them; perhaps, like -Gordon in the New Hebrides, they were sacrificed to the Manes of those -whose death they had unwittingly brought about. Their fate is not even -one of the thousand mysteries of the sea which men would fain solve. - -On the day fixed for the rite there was another portent. The sky was -cloudless at high noon, when the sun suddenly paled and turned to the -colour of blood. The air grew dark, the birds settled on the trees -to roost, and the stars came out. There was silence among the people -sitting before the spirit _bure_, Vatanitawake--the silence of a great -fear. Then the god entered into one of the priests, and he screamed -prophecies in the red darkness, foretelling war and the greatness of -Matenikutu, the son of Bale-i-vavalagi, and crying that the face of the -sun was red with the blood that he should shed. - -This dramatic scene was no invention of the elders of Bau, for the -tradition of the eclipse is to be found in Rewa, in Nakelo, and -in Dawasamu, and in every case the day is fixed as the day of the -confirmation of Ra Matenikutu. He saw many strange sights during his -stormy reign, but assuredly none more weird and terrible than this -scene in the lurid twilight, when he was declared Vunivalu. - -In that year there were other strange omens, foretelling the change of -the old order. The heavens rained lumps of ice, that broke down the -yam-vines and the stalks of the taro; and the people, touching them, -said that burning stars had fallen from heaven. There followed a great -storm. For many days the rain fell without ceasing, and the waters -rose. The basin of the Rewa river, draining half the island, was swept -with a torrent greater than any that have been seen before or since, -and the waters rose over the housetops, sweeping seawards in a roaring -muddy flood. The strong fled to the hills and saved their lives; the -sick and the aged were swept out to sea. When the waters subsided, the -face of the country was changed, for the flood had covered the land and -the reefs with a great layer of black earth. Thus were the flats of -Burebasaga raised above the reach of the water, and thus was the land -purged of the pestilence. - -And now the new order was at hand. In 1808 the American brig Eliza, -with 40,000 dollars from the River Plate, was wrecked on the reef of -Nairai Island. The crew were allowed to live. Some of them made their -way in the ship’s boats to another American vessel that chanced to -be lying at Bua Bay, ninety miles distant; five others, two of them -Chinamen, were carried by the natives to Verata; one, named Charles -Savage, made his way to Bau in a canoe that chanced to be sailing -thither. The hull was looted by the natives, who used the silver -dollars--_lavo_ they call them still, from their resemblance to the -bean of that name--as playthings to be skimmed along the shallow water, -or buried with the posts of a new house. Eighty years have passed, -and though many sailors have deserted their ships with the purpose of -enriching themselves from this lost treasure, and the natives have long -ago learned the value of money, these records of the wreck are still -occasionally found. - -As soon as Savage reached Bau he besought Ra Matenikutu to send him to -Nairai to search for a thing he wanted from the wreck, and when this -was not granted he promised that if the thing were brought to him he -would make Bau pre-eminent above all her enemies, even over Rewa and -Verata. The thing they were to look for was like a _ngata_ club, but -heavier, and they must also find a black powder such as men use to -paint their faces for war. The messengers searched diligently. They -found the black powder, but none knew this thing of which the White man -spoke. But at the last, when they were wearied with the search, one -remembered that a _ngata_ club of a strange pattern had been built -into a yam-house set up to hold the crop that was but just dug. There -they found it, as the ridge-pole of the yam-shed, the weapon that -should enable Bau to crush her rivals, and should bring even her at -last under the dominion of a stronger than she. - -When they returned to Bau, Savage took the thing to his house, and shut -the doorway that no one might see. “And presently he bade Naulivou -summon all the elders of Bau to the _rara_ before the _bure_ of the -war-god Cagawalu--the same that was the untimely birth of the woman of -Batiki--and there on the seaward side he set on end the deck-plank of a -canoe; and he went with his weapon and stood before the foundation of -the _bure_. Then he cried to the elders to watch the deck-plank, and he -aimed and fired. And the people, knowing nothing of what would happen, -dashed their heads upon the ground so that the blood flowed, and they -were angry that the white man had not told them what he would do. He -did not listen to them, but only pointed to the plank that the lead -had pierced, saying that so would he slay the enemies of Bau. Then the -young men took their spears and clamoured to be led against Verata; but -Savage bade them be silent, saying that they could not prevail against -the place while there were white men like himself within the town. And -he took a piece of white _masi_, and mixed water with the powder so -as to make a black pigment, and with a reed split into many points he -painted words upon the _masi_, and put it in a gourd and fastened the -gourd to a stick. - -“Then a canoe was made ready to carry him to Verata, where the other -white men were. But they could go no farther than the point of the bay -where the beach is open, for this was the frontier of Verata, and they -were enemies. Here they set up the stick with the gourd hanging to it; -and afterwards they sailed near to the town, but out of bow-shot, and -shouted to the people to go and take the gourd. Now within the gourd -were words from Savage to the white men bidding them leave Verata and -come to Bau, which, he said, was the stronger, and a land of chiefs, -where they would live unharmed.” - -“On the next day these men fled to Bau in a canoe which they had taken, -and the forces were made ready to go against Verata. In the first canoe -went Savage with his musket. When they were near the town he made -them lower the sail and pole the canoe into the shallow water close -to the moat. And the warriors in the town ran up and down behind the -moat and taunted them, but their arrows fell short of the canoe. Then -Savage stood up and shot at a man standing on the bank of earth beating -the air with his club, and he fell forward into the moat. And all the -others ran to him to see his hurt, and there was silence for a moment -while they wondered, and fear gathered in their hearts. Then Savage -loaded his piece again and fired at the men as they stooped over him -that was wounded, and another fell; and panic seized the rest, and they -fled behind the war-fence. Then Savage fired many times at the fence, -and the lead passed through the banana-stumps that arrows could not -pierce, and wounded the men that stood behind; for it was not until -the bow gave place to the musket that the war-fence was made of earth. -Then the men of Verata began to flee, and Savage leaped from the canoe -and ran to tear down the fence. But as he broke through it a warrior of -Verata, who stood just within, stabbed him in the side with his spear. -The men of Bau who followed close upon him seized the man before he -could escape, and bound him, and took him to the canoes, and he was -afterwards slain at Bau and baked in the ovens. Meanwhile the warriors -from the other canoes were burning the houses and taking the spoil to -the canoes, and clubbing all who had not escaped except a few of the -women, who might serve as slaves for Bau. They took also a few of the -men as prisoners to be slain at the _bure_ of the war-god and cooked in -the ovens. Thus was the power of Verata broken. - -“They carried Savage to his own house. Here he had hung a hammock of -sail-cloth between the posts, and in this he was laid, for he had lost -much blood. But when the old men came with their _losi_-sticks and -other implements to perform _cokalosi_ on his body, they found him -swinging in his hammock and swearing strange oaths with the pain of his -wound. Nor would he let them touch him, but rather cursed them when he -understood what they would do, and called for water to pour upon his -wound. - -“Bau fought no more till Savage was recovered of his wound. None dared -touch his musket, for he had told them that there was magic in it that -would kill any that touched it except himself; nor did the other white -men dare to take it, for he had threatened them that if any disobeyed -him he would require his death at the hands of the chief, who would -refuse him nothing.” - -When his wound was healed and he could move about the town, they -prepared to make him _koroi_ for the number of the enemy that he had -killed. In Fiji, when a man had slain another in battle, he was led to -the _bure_ with great honour and dedicated to the god; his old name was -taken from him, and a new name, with the prefix of “Koroi” (signifying -“dwelling of”), was given to him in its place. A stone’s-throw from -Bau lies the little islet of Nailusi, on which Ra Matenikutu had -built a house for his wives after it had been enlarged with stones -carried from the reef. To this islet was Savage taken by several of -the elders. There they stripped off his shirt and painted his face and -breast with black paint and turmeric, though he mocked the while at -their mummeries, protesting that he was cold. When all was ready they -embarked again in the canoe with their spears, and landed opposite -to the war-god’s _bure_, where the priests and the old men were -sitting. Here the warriors that were to be made “koroi,” taught by the -elders, poised their spears and crept slowly on the temple, dancing -the _cibi_, the death-dance. And Savage, painted and festooned like -the rest, but wearing his trousers, went with them; but he would not -dance to the chant of the old men. They planted their spears hung with -streamers against the wall of the temple, and took new spears from the -attendants. At night the feast was apportioned, and there was a great -dance that lasted till the sun was high on the next morning. And when -the dance was ended the chosen warriors brought offerings and piled -them in the _rara_, and as each approached the priests called his new -title. And after them all came Savage, bringing nothing but his musket, -and the priest cried “Koroi-na-Vunivalu,” a more honourable title -than them all. But when they were taken into the _bure_ and forbidden -to bathe or eat with their hands for the space of four days, Savage -scoffed fiercely at the priests who besought him to comply with their -customs, and broke the _tabu_, leaving the _bure_, and going to his own -home. - -From this time they made Savage greater than any save the Vunivalu; -some say, indeed, that greater honours were paid to him than to Ra -Matenikutu himself. He was a chief of the tribe by adoption, not a -foreigner as the others were. Two ladies were given him to wife, the -daughters of the spiritual chief and of the Vunivalu himself, and -a great house was built for him at Muaidele, on the borders of the -fishermen’s town of Soso. We hear little of the other white men who -were living at Bau. They took wives, and ate and drank and slept, while -Savage sat in the councils of the tribe. Children were born to them, -but they were all destroyed except Maraia, the daughter of Savage by -a woman of Lomaloma--she who was afterwards married by force to the -master of the Manila ship before he was murdered by his crew. She died -in 1875. - -Verata had given her submission with the basket of earth, and her -enmity was no longer to be feared. The rival of Bau now lay to the -southward. Through the system of navigable creeks in the delta of the -Rewa river there was a water highway to Rewa, interrupted only by a -narrow isthmus, over which the canoes had to be dragged. Commanding -this isthmus stood Nakelo, whose strength no enemy had broken. Nakelo -had refused to the Bau canoes the right of passing their town, and had -compelled the messengers between Bau and Rewa to make the long and -tedious journey by sea. The conquest of Nakelo would therefore be the -first step towards the sovereignty of the fertile delta. Savage took -entire command of this expedition. He ordered them to plait a litter -of sinnet large enough to hold him, and dense enough to turn arrows. -On one side a slit was left as an embrasure for the musket, but the -rest of it was arrow-proof. Then poles were fixed to it as handles, -and Savage was carried round the town of Bau to test its strength. The -force went against Nakelo by water, taking the litter in the canoes. -When they were near to the place and could see the embankment crowned -with the war-fence, Savage chose from among his followers two of the -strongest and most fearless, and ordered them to set the litter down -within bow-shot of the walls, and then to run back to their comrades, -for he would engage the enemy alone. No sooner was the litter set -down than it was stuck as full of arrows as the spines of an echinus. -But when the garrison saw that there was but one man against them and -no ambush, they were bolder, and made as if they would leave their -defences and rush down upon him. For this Savage was waiting. As they -mounted on the fence to take the better aim with their bows he fired -through the embrasure of his litter, and a chief among them fell. The -rest stood, helpless with terror, until he had loaded and fired again. -Then, as at Verata, a panic seized them, and one among them took a mat -and held it up to ward off the lead from the wounded chief as if he -would ward off arrows; but the bullets pierced this also and wounded -him who held it. Then they fled. And the warriors of Bau, who had been -waiting out of bow-shot, leaped over the fence into the town, clubbing -all they met and shouting their death-cry. So Nakelo the invincible -was burned, and many prisoners were taken to Bau, to be dashed against -the temple-stone and baked in the ovens. Savage was given of the -captive women as many as he would take, and he gave them to the other -foreigners that were in Bau. And the chief of Nakelo fled to Rewa, and -sent from thence his submission by the hand of Matainakelo, craving -leave to rebuild his village. So Ra Matenikutu took the whale’s teeth, -but ordered the men of Nakelo to dig a canal through the isthmus that -obstructed the water-way, and henceforward to suffer canoes from Bau to -pass to Rewa without hindrance, for the Queen of Rewa was a Bauan lady. -And Nakelo dug a ditch into which the water could wash at high tide, -and the swift current did the rest, making the wide channel through -which we pass to-day. - -And now the power of Bau was swelled by the fame of these victories. -Broken tribes, fleeing from their enemies in Vugalei, came to Ra -Matenikutu, asking leave to settle on his waste lands in return for -the tribute they would pay him for protection. Thus did Namara become -_bati_ to Bau; for when they chanced to meet the chief at Kubuna where -they had come for salt, and he gave them a shark and a sting-ray -to eat, there was a friendly contest between two of them that were -brothers, as to which of them should be clubbed by the other as an -offering to the great chief in return for the fish; and their cousin -hearing the dispute cried, “You speak as if a man were as precious as a -banana. What is a man’s life? Let the elder be clubbed.” So the younger -clubbed him and presented his body to the chief. And when he knew what -they had done he was grieved, and bade them bury the body there and not -cook it; and he said, “I wanted no return for the fish, but ye have -shown that ye are true men. Return to your place, and bring your wives -and children, and come and settle on this land, and cultivate it, and -be my borderers, for I have need of true men.” - -There is no need to tell of how Buretu and Kiuva were subdued, and -Tokatoka was driven out, until there remained only Rewa that was not -subject to Bau. Against all these Bau prevailed through Savage, who -ever led her forces with his musket. Other ships called in the group -for sandal-wood, and left deserters and discharged seamen, attracted by -the news of the dollars stored at Nairai, to swell the foreign colony -at Bau--Graham from Sydney, Mike Maccabe and Atkins discharged from the -“City of Edinburgh.” These men, and three others whose names are lost, -lived together in a house between Soso and the chief’s town, practising -every native custom except cannibalism, and far surpassing them in one -form of licence. When a ship called for a cargo of sandal-wood, they -would hire themselves out to pull the boats at a wage of £4 a-month, -to be paid in knives, tools, and beads, which clothed them with a -brief importance among the natives of Bau when they returned; but, -for the rest, the natives looked on them with scorn and fear, as men -with the manners of beasts and as breakers of the _tabu_. There came a -day when one of the tributary tribes of Bau brought a great offering -of food to the chief, Savage being absent with the army. The yams and -turtle were piled in the _rara_ opposite the dwelling of the white -men. Here it was apportioned by the chief’s _mata_; but when he called -out the names of those who were to come and take a share, he did not -cry the names of the white men. These then became very angry, and -two of them, less prudent than the others, ran into the _rara_ with -their knives and slashed at the heap of yams, trampling the food under -foot. Now the Fijians will endure any insult before this, and when -the tidings reached the town every man caught up his weapon and ran -towards Soso. But the white men were armed and ready, and as they came -on three muskets flashed out from the dark doorways and three fell. And -when they rushed on again it was the same. Many fell that day by the -muskets; but the Bauans knew them to be but three, and their thirst for -the blood of the white men only grew the stronger. Then one of them ran -and took a firestick, and bound dry _masi_ round it, and flung it into -the thatch on the windward side, and the wind fanned it into flame. -Still, though the white men knew that the house was burning, they would -not leave it, for they saw the clubs brandished without, and knew that -there was no escape. At last, when they could bear the heat no longer, -they ran out, hoping to reach the water, and two of them leapt into -the sea and dived, swimming out to sea; but three were clubbed and -slain as they ran. And while the men were preparing to follow those -who were escaping by swimming, the words came from the chief to spare -them. Thus were Graham and Buschart spared--the first to perish more -miserably at Wailea, and the other to be the means of discovering the -fate of De la Pérouse. - -Savage had now the government of the group in his own hands. He had -raised Bau to the mastery of the surrounding tribes; he could determine -the future policy of the Bau chiefs; he had food, and man-servants, -and women as many as his soul could desire. Yet there was one thing -the lack of which poisoned all his existence. He had neither liquor -nor tobacco; and what earthly paradise could be complete to a sailor -of those days unless he had the power of getting drunk? It was this -want, together with the necessity of maintaining his influence by the -possession of the tools and muskets so eagerly coveted by the natives, -that led him to take his last journey from Bau. In May 1813 news -reached Bau that a large ship was anchored on the Bua coast, ninety -miles distant, to load sandal-wood. From the description of the vessel -the whites knew her to be the East Indian ship Hunter, for which some -of them had worked during the preceding year. It was arranged with -the chiefs that in three months an expedition should be despatched -to Bua to bring them back, so that they might not be left among the -treacherous natives of that coast. Taking their wives with them, they -reached the ship without accident, and were employed to pull the boats -at the usual wage. - -Maraia, Savage’s daughter, remembered his last night in Bau, though she -was then but four years old. She was alone in the house when her father -came in and opened the sea-chest, which he always kept locked. From -this he took a string of bright objects that glittered and flashed in -the light from the door. Her exclamation startled him, for he thought -that he was alone. He told her that he was going away for a long time, -and that he must therefore hide his property in a place of safety. Then -he kissed her and went out, taking a canoe to the mainland. She was -asleep when he returned, and the canoe sailed for Bua before she awoke. -She never saw him again. Perhaps his treasure was a string of silver -dollars that still lies buried somewhere on the land opposite Bau. - -The second mate of this ship was Peter Dillon, the lively Irishman -who was afterwards made a Chevalier of the Legion d’Honneur for his -services in finding the remains of De la Pérouse’s expedition. His -story of the death of Savage and of his own escape has become, as it -deserves, a classic in Polynesian literature. The sandal-wood had been -coming in too slowly to suit the captain of the Hunter, and a bargain -was at last struck between Captain Robson and the chief of Wailea, that -if he would help them against their enemies they for their part would -fill the ship within two months. On April 4 the crew, in three armed -boats, accompanied by about 4000 of the natives, laid siege to the town -of Nabakavu and took it, killing eleven of the enemy and destroying -several villages. The bodies were there and then jointed, cleaned, -baked in stone ovens, and eaten by the victorious natives, after which -the boats returned to the ship. Four months passed away and two-thirds -of the cargo were still wanting, when the chiefs sent a message to say -that they could get no more sandal-wood. Nor would they come near the -ship for fear of being taken as hostages. The captain now resolved to -punish his old allies. Accordingly he attacked a fleet of their canoes -and captured fourteen of them with a loss to the natives of one man. -At this juncture two canoes arrived from Bau with a force of about 220 -men under the command of Tabakaucoro and Matavutuvutua, the brothers -of the Vunivalu, and Namosimalua, the chief of Viwa, afterwards one of -the first Christian converts. Their ostensible object was to escort -the white men and their wives back to Bau, but they did not intend to -return with empty hands. The captain now determined to capture and -destroy the canoes that were left to the people of Wailea, lest they -might annoy him during the repairing of his tender. On September 6, -1813, the crew of the ship and about a hundred of the Bau warriors -landed armed near the village, and proceeded towards it without any -attempt to maintain order. They did not know that the few natives -who were retiring before them, using the most taunting and insulting -gestures, were “the bait for the net,” and a certain indication that -they were walking into an ambush. They reached a small village and set -it on fire, and as the flames shot up they heard a horrible uproar -from the path they had just traversed. The Bau chiefs knew the cries -for the _vakacaucau_ or death-cry of the Wailea, signifying that they -had killed an enemy. The ambush had fallen upon the straggling party -in the rear. Dillon and his companions now tried to fight their way -back to the boats; but after emptying their muskets into the crowd of -infuriated savages, they were driven to take refuge on the crest of -a little hill. Only six of them reached it: the Bau chiefs and two -of the white men from Bau were clubbed in the plain below. The party -on the hill were Dillon, Savage, Buschart, Luis, a Chinaman who was -wrecked with Savage in the Eliza, and two sailors from the Hunter. It -was not yet mid-day; their ammunition was nearly exhausted, and they -were hemmed in by many hundreds of infuriated natives, all sworn not -to let them escape. From the top of the little hill they could see -their boats at anchor, and the ship in the offing. Beneath them in -the plain they saw the enemy carrying the bodies of their comrades, -slung across poles, to the shade of some trees, where they were cut up -and wrapped in green banana-leaves, to be roasted with the taro. But -first they were set in a sitting posture, and insulted with unnameable -indignities, while musket-balls were fired into them. The natives made -several rushes at the hill, and were driven back by the steady fire -of the little party. But the position was so appalling that Savage -proposed an escape into the mangrove at the back of the hill, and was -only prevented from doing so by Dillon’s threat to shoot the first man -that left the hill. Most fortunately for Dillon’s party, there were -eight prisoners on board the Hunter who had been captured by Captain -Robson in his attack upon the canoes a few days before. As soon as the -natives became calm enough to listen to Savage, they were reminded that -these men were still alive, that one of them was the brother of the -priest of Wailea, and that as soon as the news of their death reached -the ship the prisoners would assuredly be sacrificed. The natives had -hitherto supposed these men to have met the usual fate of prisoners of -war. The priest now pressed forward, asking eagerly whether they were -speaking the truth, and Savage (the unblushing Dillon says that it was -he himself, but he also says that he could speak the language perfectly -in four months, and gives some curious specimens of his proficiency) -promised that if one of their number were taken to the ship the -prisoners would be released, and a large ransom be paid for the lives -of himself and his companions. These terms being agreed upon, Dafny, -the wounded sailor, was induced to trust himself to the protection of -the priest, and was seen to embark in a canoe and reach the ship in -safety. Soon after his departure a number of the chiefs came within a -few paces of the crest of the hill and spoke in the most friendly way -to Savage, promising him safe-conduct if he would go down among them. -So convinced was he of their sincerity that he urged Dillon to let him -go down, assuring him that by so doing he could obtain safe-conduct -for all. Having at last won his consent, he left his musket and went -down to a spot about two hundred yards from the base of the hill, -where the chief Vonasa was sitting. For a time they seemed to be on -friendly terms, and the natives tried their utmost to persuade Dillon -to follow Savage’s example, saying, “Come down, Peter, we will not hurt -you; you see we do not hurt Charlie.” At this moment the Chinaman, -Savage’s former shipmate, stole away from behind Dillon to claim the -protection of a chief to whom he had rendered former service in war. He -had scarcely reached the foot of the hill when the natives, seeing that -it was hopeless to persuade Dillon to come down, yelled their war-cry -and rushed up the hill to the attack. Savage was seized suddenly by -the legs and thrown down, and was then held by six men with his head -in a pool of water near to which he had been standing, until he was -suffocated, while at the same moment a powerful native came behind -the Chinaman and smashed his skull with his club. The two bodies were -immediately disembowelled, cut up, and wrapped in leaves to be baked in -the ovens. - -Meanwhile the chiefs furiously incited their men to capture the hill -with a rush. There were four muskets between the three defenders. -Wilson, being a bad shot, was kept loading while the other two fired. -Buschart, an old rifleman, shot twenty-seven men with twenty-eight -shots: Dillon seldom missed. In the face of these heavy losses the men -would not respond to their chiefs, but kept off, shouting defiance. -The ovens containing the bodies of the men killed in the morning were -now opened, and the roast joints of human flesh distributed among the -different chiefs, assembled from all parts of the coast, with the same -order and ceremony as is used in the apportionment of feasts on public -occasions. From time to time the chiefs shouted to Peter to come down -before it grew too dark to cook his body properly, and boasted of the -number of white men they each had killed. To his reply, that if they -killed him their countrymen on board the ship would suffer, they cried -that the captain might kill and eat his prisoners if he chose, but that -they meant to kill and eat him (Peter) as soon as it grew dark enough -to approach him without being shot. Dillon’s greatest fear was that -they would be tortured. He had heard from Savage stories of the flaying -and branding of prisoners, of eyelid-cutting and nail-drawing, and he -resolved to use the last cartridges upon himself and his companions. - -Late in the afternoon the little party were horrified to see the boat -returning from the ship with all the eight hostages. They believed that -the captain would take the precaution of releasing four only until -they were safe on board, but now they had no longer any lien upon the -mercy of their assailants. As soon as they landed, the hostages were -led unarmed up the hill by the priest, who delivered an imaginary -message from the captain, bidding them hand over the muskets to him -and return to the ship. While he was haranguing Buschart, the idea of -seizing him flashed across Dillon’s mind. It was a desperate expedient, -but they were in a desperate plight. He suddenly presented his musket -at the man’s head, swearing that he would shoot him dead unless he led -him safely to the boat. The priest was the only man among the natives -who possessed sufficient influence to keep the infuriated warriors -in check. He was taken by surprise, and did not attempt to escape. -Shouting to his people to sit down, he led the strange procession down -the hill, through the angry multitude, now silent under protest, and -on to the beach, walking slowly with a musket-muzzle at each ear, and -another between his shoulders. Arrived at the beach, he said that he -would rather be shot than move another step towards the boats. The -whites backed into the water, still covering him with their muskets, -until they reached the boats. Then, as they pushed off, the natives -rushed down and sent a shower of harmless arrows and stones after them. -Six of the crew and eight of the white men from Bau had perished. - -On the following morning Dillon made an unsuccessful attempt to -recover the bones of the Europeans. A native flourished the thigh bones -of the first mate, but refused to part with them, saying that they were -to be made into sail-needles. - -The canoes had set sail for Bau with some fifty of their company -wounded. They had not communicated with the ship, and had therefore -left behind two Europeans and a number of their women. The ship -sailed the same day, and being unable to land her native passengers -at Bau, carried them on to New South Wales. Buschart and a Lascar -were, however, landed at Tucopia, where they were found thirteen years -afterwards, and were instrumental in the discovery of the remains of De -la Pérouse’s ill-fated expedition. - -So gross an insult as the slaughter of two of the Vunivalu’s brothers -could not go unpunished. On the return of the canoes the indignation -in Bau was intense. A strong expedition was at once fitted out, and -before the end of the year Wailea was in ashes, and Vonasa and half his -tribe had followed their victims to Naicobocobo. Many were slain in the -sack of the town, but a few were carried captive to Bau to glut the -vengeance of Vunivalu himself. There, at the mercy of their captors, -they died such a death as amply avenged the chiefs who fell at Wailea. - -Thus did Charles Savage, the Swede, meet a death in harmony with his -stormy life, and with the fate that he had brought upon so many others. -His works followed him. Epic poems, now half-forgotten, were composed -in his honour. With the descendants of the people among whom he lived -he has almost attained the dignity of a legendary hero, and but for -their conversion to Christianity he would undoubtedly have been given -a place in their Pantheon. He is remembered while all that is left of -the gigantic and heroic Dillon is the name of the little hill that -saved his life in Wailea Bay. Though the tragedy itself is almost -forgotten, the knoll is still called Koroi-Pita (Peter’s Hill). Through -Savage, Bau rose to a rank among her sister tribes that she never -forfeited. When the growing intercourse with foreigners demanded the -recognition of Fiji as a people obeying acknowledged leaders, Bau fell -naturally into the place of sovereign over all her rival States, and as -possessing power to cede to England the territory of all for the common -good. Therefore in time to come, when some historian, weary of seeking -an untried field for his pen, turns to Fiji, he will, in valuing the -political forces that have led to this end, give a leading place to the -deeds of Charles Savage, the first colonist. - - -THE END. - - -PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS. - - - - -SELECTED WORKS. - - - THE RISE OF OUR EAST AFRICAN EMPIRE. EARLY EFFORTS IN NYASALAND - AND UGANDA. By CAPTAIN F. D. LUGARD, D.S.O. With 130 Illustrations - and 14 specially prepared Maps. 2 vols. large demy 8vo, 42s. - - LIFE AND TIMES OF THE RT. HON. W. H. SMITH, M.P. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: South Sea Yarns</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Basil Thomson</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 31, 2021 [eBook #66195]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTH SEA YARNS ***</div> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="front" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<h1>SOUTH SEA YARNS</h1> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center" id="frontis.jpg"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="While the men were digging the oven and lining it" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>While the men were digging the oven and lining it.</i>”</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">SOUTH SEA YARNS</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">BASIL THOMSON</p> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</i></p> - -<p class="bold space-above">WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS<br />EDINBURGH AND LONDON<br />MDCCCXCIV</p> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>All Rights reserved</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">TO<br /><br />MY WIFE</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>In the great <i>bure</i> of Raiyawa there was a story-telling. The -lying-places filled three sides of the house—mats spread upon grass -four feet wide,—and between each lying-place was a narrow strip of -bare earth sprinkled with wood-ashes, on which three logs, nose to -nose, were smouldering. A thin curl of blue smoke wreathed upwards -from each to the conical roof, where they met and filtered through -the blackened thatch; so that from outside the <i>bure</i> looked like a -disembowelled haystack smouldering, ready to burst into flame. On -the fourth side was a low doorway, stopped with a thick fringe of -dried rushes, through which ever and anon a grey-headed elder burst -head-foremost, after coughing and spitting outside to announce his -arrival. Beside the doorway<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> was a solitary couch, the seat of honour, -to which the foreigner, footsore and weary with his tramp across the -mountains, was directed, having in his turn dived trustingly through -the rushes like the rest. The couches were filling, and the elders were -settling down in twos to rest, slinging their legs over the fender-bar -that lay conveniently on its forked supports, and turning to the -grateful glow that part of his anatomy that man delights to roast—for -the night was falling, and a chilly mist was rising from the river. -Then one of them rose and made with his hand a tiny aperture in the -rush-screen, through which the dull twilight showed white. “Beat!” he -cried; and the rest beat the reed walls with their open palms, and -the house was filled with the angry hum of a myriad mosquitoes, that -flew into the smoke and out towards the king-post, and then, seeing -the twilight and the fresh air, sailed in a compact string through -the opening, so that in three minutes there was not one of them left. -Thereafter one might sleep in peace without slapping the back and the -bare thighs, for the rushes brushed them from the body of each incomer, -and their furious hum outside was impotent to hurt.</p> - -<p>At length every place was filled, and from the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>darkness Bongi began -and told of the mountain-paths—how the foreigner would rest before the -hill was climbed, gasping like a fish, and asked many foolish questions -of the old time and the present; and of the courts, how Bitukau had -had his hair cropped, having been taken in sin and judged; and of how -the foreigner had given him strange meats to eat that were enclosed in -iron, having first broken the iron and cooked the meats on a fire.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Bosoka, “such were the meats that a foreigner gave to the -men of Kualendraya, bidding them heat the meats on a fire and eat; -but when they did so, the meats blew up like a gun, and scalded them -grievously. Foreigners must be strong indeed to eat such meats.”</p> - -<p>“And the foreigner told me tales,” continued Bongi—“wonderful tales, -hard to believe: of stone houses larger than this whole village; of -strings going under the sea to other lands by which men talk, sending -no ship to bear the tale; of steamers that go on land faster than a -horse can run.”</p> - -<p>“Foreigners are great liars,” said old Natuyalewa, sententiously. “But -the land steamers may be true, for at Nansori it is said the sugar-cane -is carried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> by steamers on the land. Tomase, who worked there, told me -of this; and it may be true that they talk with strings, for a man may -make many signs by jerking a sinnet cord which another holds, pulling -harder at times and then softly. But the stone house—such tales as -these they tell to increase their honour in our eyes, but they are -lies, for there is no land so great as Great Viti.”</p> - -<p>Now the foreigner feigned sleep and listened.</p> - -<p>“Well,” cried Ngutu from the corner, “the teacher says that our fathers -lied about Rokola’s canoe—that the mast fell at Malake and dented the -mountains of Kauvandra. He says that a canoe cannot sail so far in a -day, even with the wind on the outrigger.”</p> - -<p>“The teachers are the foreigners’ mouths, and bark at all our ancient -customs, seeking to dishonour them,” growled Natuyalewa. “I am growing -old, and the land is changed. When I was young we listened to the words -of our elders, but now the young men——”</p> - -<p>“Ië! Tell us tales of the old time,” interrupted Bongi: “we will each -bring <i>nambu</i>: mine shall be the <i>sevu</i> of my yams.”</p> - -<p>The elders grunted approval from the darkness.</p> - -<p>“My <i>nambu</i> shall be fish.” “A bunch of white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> plantains.” “Mine shall -be prawns from the stream,” cried several.</p> - -<p>“I want no <i>nambu</i>,” replied Natuyalewa, with dignity; “the <i>nambu</i> -should be given to those who tell tales for gain, seeking to entertain -the chiefs, that mats, and fine <i>masi</i>, and other property, may be -given to them. These will tell of gods and giants, and canoes greater -than these mountains, and of women fairer than the women of these days, -and of doings so strange that the jaws of the listener fall apart. -Such a one gains great honour, and the chiefs will promise him <i>nambu</i> -before they even hear his tale, remembering the wonders of the last. -And he, being known for a teller of strange tales, must ever lie more -and more, lest, if he turn back to the truth, the chiefs hearing him -may say, ‘This fellow’s tales were once like running water, but now -they are like the village pool: why give him <i>nambu</i>?’ But I will ask -no <i>nambu</i>, for I can only tell of that I have seen with my own eyes or -heard with my ears; and though I tell you tales of the old time or of -distant lands, yet can I tell only of the doings of men and women like -to yourselves, who did deeds such as you yourselves do; and when all -is told,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> you will call the tale emptier than the shell of the Wa-Timo -fruit.”</p> - -<p>Then Natuyalewa began to tell of Rusa, the fisherman of Malomalo, and -the foreigner, himself a story-teller in Natuyalewa’s line of business, -thought ruefully of the wonder-mongers of his own land, and the <i>nambu</i> -they won, and so pondering, fell asleep.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A COURT-DAY IN FIJI,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE LAST OF THE CANNIBAL CHIEFS,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">TAUYASA OF NASELAI, REFORMER,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A COOLIE PRINCESS,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">LEONE OF NOTHO,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">RALUVE,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE RAIN-MAKERS,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">MAKERETA,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">ROMEO AND JULIET,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE WOMAN FINAU,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">IN THE OLD WHALING DAYS,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE FIERY FURNACE,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">FRIENDSHIP,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE HERMIT OF BOOT ISLAND,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE WARS OF THE FISHING-ROD,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">THE FIRST COLONIST,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“WHILE THE MEN WERE DIGGING THE OVEN AND LINING IT,”</td> - <td><a href="#frontis.jpg"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“ON THE NIGHT OF EACH RETURN FROM THE CAPITAL,”</td> - <td><a href="#i038.jpg">38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“AND THEN RALUVE CAME IN, SHYLY FOLLOWED BY TWO<br /> -ATTENDANTS OF DISCREET AGE AND MATURE CHARMS,”</td> - <td><a href="#i076.jpg">76</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“THE CANOE WAS AFLOAT, AND LADEN WITH SUCH OF THE<br /> -LOW-BORNS’ HOUSEHOLD GODS AS THEIR ARISTOCRATIC<br /> -VISITORS THOUGHT WORTH TAKING AWAY,”</td> - <td><a href="#i084.jpg">84</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">MAKERETA,</td> - <td><a href="#i126.jpg">126</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">FRIAR LAURENCE’S HOUSE,</td> - <td><a href="#i134.jpg">134</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“NOTHING NOW REMAINS OF KOROLAMALAMA BUT THE NAME<br /> -AND A FEW MOUNDS,”</td> - <td><a href="#i178.jpg">178</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“WHEN THE WOOD WAS ALL OUT THERE REMAINED A CONICAL<br /> -PILE OF GLOWING STONES,”</td> - <td><a href="#i202.jpg">202</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">LEVUKA,</td> - <td><a href="#i248.jpg">248</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">“RASOLO, BEING SWIFTEST OF FOOT, REACHED THEM FIRST,<br /> -AND SLEW THEM WITH HIS THROWING-CLUB,”</td> - <td><a href="#i268.jpg">268</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">SOUTH SEA YARNS.</p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/decobar.jpg" alt="line" /></div> - -<h2>A COURT-DAY IN FIJI.</h2> - -<p>A bright sky vying with the sea for blueness, a sun whose rays are not -too hot to be cooled by the sea-breeze, the distant roar of the great -Pacific rollers as they break in foam on the coral-reef, the whisper -of the feathery palms as they wave their giant leaves above yonder -cluster of brown native huts,—all these form a picture whose poetry -is not easily reconciled with the stern prose of an English court of -law. It is perhaps as well that the legal forms we are accustomed to -have been modified to meet the wants of this remote province of the -Queen’s dominions, for the spot we are describing is accounted remote -even in remote Fiji, and the people are proportionately <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>primitive. The -natives of Fiji are amenable to a criminal code known as the Native -Regulations. These are administered by two courts—the District Court, -which sits monthly and is presided over by a native magistrate; and -the Provincial Court, which assembles every three months before the -English and native magistrates sitting together. From the latter there -is no appeal except by petition to the governor, and it has now become -the resort of all Fijians who are in trouble or consider themselves -aggrieved.</p> - -<p>For several days witnesses and accused have been coming in from the -neighbouring islands, and last night the village-crier proclaimed the -share of the feast which each family was called upon to provide. The -women have been busy since daylight bringing in yams, plantains, and -taro from the plantations, while the men were digging the oven and -lining it with the stones that, when heated, will cook the pigs to a -turn.</p> - -<p>But already the height of the sun shows it to be past ten, and -the District Court has to inquire into several charges before the -Provincial Court can sit. The order is given to the native police -sergeant to beat the <i>lali</i>, and straightway two huge wooden drums boom -out their summons to whomsoever it may concern. As the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> drum-beats -become more agitated and pressing, a long file of aged natives, clad in -shirt and <i>sulu</i> of more or less irreproachable white, is seen emerging -from the grove of cocoa-nut palms which conceal the village. We have -but just time to shake hands with our dusky colleague, a shrewd-looking -old man with grizzled hair and beard carefully trimmed for the -occasion, when the crowd begins to pour into the court-house.</p> - -<p>The gala dresses are not a little startling. Here is a dignified old -gentleman arrayed in a second-hand tunic of a marine, in much the same -plight as to buttons as its owner as to teeth; near him stands a fine -young village policeman, whose official gravity is not enhanced by the -swallow-tailed coat of a nigger minstrel; while the background is taken -up by a bevy of village maidens clad in gorgeous velvet pinafores, -who are giggling after the manner of their white sisters until they -are fixed by the stern grey eye of the chief policeman, which turns -their expression into one of that preternatural solemnity they wear -in church. The court-house, a native building carpeted with mats, is -now packed with natives, sitting cross-legged, only a small place -being reserved in front of the table for the accused and witnesses. -The magistrate takes his seat, and his scribe, sitting on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> floor -at his side, prepares his writing materials to record the sentences. -The dignity with which the old gentleman adjusts his shirt-collar and -clears his throat is a little marred when he produces from his bosom -what should have been a pair of <i>pince-nez</i>, seeing that it was secured -by a string round his neck, but is in fact a Jew’s-harp. With the soft -notes of this instrument the man of law is wont to beguile the tedium -of a dull case. But although the spectacle of Lord Coleridge gravely -performing on the Jew’s-harp in court would at least excite surprise -in England, it provokes no smile here. The first case is called on. -Reiterated calls for Samuela and Timothe produce two meek-faced youths -of eighteen and nineteen, who, sitting tailor-fashion before the table, -are charged with fowl-stealing. They plead “Not guilty,” and the owner -of the fowls being sworn, deposes that, having been awakened at night -by the voice of a favourite hen in angry remonstrance, he ran out of -his house, and after a hot chase captured the accused red-handed in two -senses, for they were plucking his hen while still alive. Quite unmoved -by this tragic tale, Vatureba seems to listen only to the melancholy -notes of his Jew’s-harp; but the witness is a chief and a man of -influence withal, and a period<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> of awed silence follows his accusation, -broken only by a subdued twanging from the bench. But Vatureba’s eyes -are bright and piercing, and they have been fixed for some minutes on -the wretched prisoners. He has not yet opened his lips during the case, -and as the Jew’s-harp is not capable of much expression, it is with -some interest we await the sentence. Suddenly the music ceases, the -instrument is withdrawn from the mouth, the oracle is about to speak. -Alas! he utters but two words, “<i>Vula tolu</i>” (three months), and there -peals out a malignantly triumphant strain from the Jew’s-harp. But the -prosecutor starts up with a protest. One of the accused is his nephew, -he explains, and he only wished a light sentence to be imposed. Three -months for one fowl is so severe; besides, if he has three months, he -must go to the central jail and not work out his sentence in his own -district. Again there is silence, and the Jew’s-harp has changed from -triumph into thoughtful melancholy. At length it is withdrawn, and the -oracle speaks again, “<i>Bogi tolu</i>” (three days).</p> - -<p>The prisoners are pounced upon and dragged out by the hungry police, -and after a few more cases the District Court is adjourned to make -way for the Provincial.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> The rural police—a fine body of men dressed -in uniform—take up positions at the court-house doors, and we take -our seats beside our sable colleague at the table. A number of men -of lighter colour and different appearance are brought in and placed -in a row before the table. These are the leading men of the island -of Nathula, who are charged with slandering their Buli (chief of -district). They have, in fact, been ruined by a defective knowledge -of arithmetic, as we learn from the story of the poor old Buli, whose -pathetic and careworn face shows that he at least has not seen the -humorous side of the situation. It appears that a sum of £70, due to -the natives as a refund on overpaid taxes, was given to the Buli for -distribution among the various heads of families. For this purpose he -summoned a meeting, and the amount in small silver was turned out on -the floor to be counted. Now as not a few Fijians are hazy as to how -many shillings go to the pound, it is not surprising that the fourteen -or fifteen people who counted the money made totals varying from £50 to -£100. They at once jumped to the conclusion that the Buli, who was by -this time so bored with the whole thing that he was quite willing to -forego his own share, had embezzled the money; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> to make suspicion -certainty they started off in a canoe to the mainland to consult a -wizard. This oracle, being presented with a whale’s tooth, intimated -that if he heard the name of the defaulter who had embezzled the -money, his little finger, and perhaps other portions of his anatomy, -would tingle (<i>kida</i>). They accordingly went through the names of all -their fellow-villagers, naming the Buli last. On hearing this name the -oracle, whose little finger had hitherto remained normal, “regardless -of grammar, cried out, ‘That’s him!’”</p> - -<p>On their return to Nathula, they triumphantly quoted the oracle as -their authority for accusing their Buli of embezzlement. The poor old -gentleman, wounded in his tenderest feelings, had but one resort. He -knew <i>he</i> hadn’t stolen the money, because the money hadn’t been stolen -at all, but then who would believe his word against that of a wizard? -and was not arithmetic itself a supernatural science? There was but -one way to re-establish his shattered reputation, and this he took. -His canoe was made ready, and he repaired to the mainland to consult -a rival oracle named <i>Na ivi</i> (the ivi-tree). The little finger of -this seer was positive of the Buli’s innocence, so that, fortified by -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> support of so weighty an authority, he no longer feared to meet -his enemies face to face, and even to prosecute them for slander. As -the Buli was undoubtedly innocent, and had certainly been slandered, -the delinquents are reminded that ever since the days of Delphi seers -and oracles have met with a very limited success, and are sentenced -to three months’ imprisonment. And now follows a real tragedy. The -consideration enjoyed by the young Fijian is in proportion to the -length and cut of his hair. Now these are evidently dandies to the -verge of foppishness. Two of them have hair frizzed out so as to make a -halo four inches deep round the face, and bleached by lime until it is -gradated from deep auburn to a golden yellow at the points. Pounced on -and dragged out of court by ruthless policemen, they are handed over to -the tender mercies of a pitiless barber, and in a few moments they are -as crestfallen and ridiculous as that cockatoo who was plucked by the -monkey. The self-assurance of a Fijian is as dependent on the length of -his hair as was the strength of Samson.</p> - -<p>But now there is a shrill call for Natombe, and a middle-aged man of -rather remarkable appearance is brought before the table. He is a -mountaineer, and is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> dressed in a rather dirty <i>sulu</i> of blue calico, -secured round the waist by a few turns of native bark-cloth. He is -naked from the waist upward. The charge is practising witchcraft (<i>drau -ni kau</i>), a crime which is punishable with twelve months’ imprisonment -and forty lashes; for the Fijians are so persuaded that a bewitched -person will die, that it is only necessary to tell a person he is -bewitched to ensure his death within a few days from pure fright. -The son of the late Buli of Bemana comes forward to prosecute. The -substance of his evidence is as follows: Buli Bemana, who was quite -well on a certain Saturday, was taken ill on the Sunday, and expired -in great agony on the Monday morning. The portion of his people to -whom the accused belongs had complained more than once of the Buli’s -oppression, and desired his removal. It is the custom for a wizard -who has compassed the death of a man to appear at the funeral with -blackened face as a sign to his employers that he has earned his -reward and expects it. The accused attended Buli Bemana’s funeral -with blackened face. Moreover, an old woman of Bemana had dreamed -that she had seen Natombe bewitching the Buli, and the little fingers -of several Bemanas had itched unaccountably. These<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> last the witness -considered were convincing proofs. The accused, in reply, stated that -he was excessively grieved at the Buli’s death, and that his face at -the funeral was no blacker than usual. Several witnesses followed, who -deposed that the accused is celebrated throughout the district for his -skill in witchcraft, and that he had boasted openly in days gone by -that he had caused the death of a man who died suddenly.</p> - -<p>Now, as stated above, the belief in witchcraft among Fijians is -so thorough, and the effects of a spell upon the imagination of a -bewitched person so fatal, that the English Government has found it -necessary to recognise the existence of the practice by law. It is, -however, none the less wise for the Government officials, without -pooh-poohing the existence of witchcraft, to attempt to discourage -the belief in its efficacy. Accordingly we call for evidence as to -the particular manner in which the alleged spell was cast. There was -no caldron nor blasted heath in this case; indeed the whole ceremony -was a decidedly tame affair. It was only necessary to procure some of -the Buli’s hair or the portions of his food left untasted, and bury -them with certain herbs enclosed in a bamboo, and death would ensue -in a few days. To our question<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> whether the Buli himself thought he -was bewitched we receive a decided negative; indeed, we happen to know -that the poor old man died of acute dysentery, brought on by cold, and -that in this case, if witchcraft had been really practised, the death -was a most unfortunate coincidence. As no evidence more incriminating -than dreams and the finger-tingling is forthcoming, the accused is -acquitted, to be condemned by the other tribunal of public opinion, -which evidently runs high. When he has left the court we address the -chiefs of Bemana upon the subject of witchcraft generally, as if -seeking information. Upon this a number of white-haired old gentlemen, -whose boredom has been for some time exchanged for somnolence, wake -up and hold forth upon the relative value of hair and nail-parings as -instruments for casting spells. While the discussion becomes animated -and the consensus of opinion appears to be gathering in favour of -toe-nails, we electrify the assembly by suggesting an experiment. -They are to select two of their wisest wizards, we are to supply the -necessary means, and they are to forthwith cast their most potent spell -over us. On the result is to rest their future belief in witchcraft. -If we have not succumbed in a month’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> time there is no truth in the -practice. If we do die, they may not only believe in it, but they will, -of course, be held guiltless of our death. A dead silence ensues. Then, -after much whispered conversation, an old man addresses the court, -pointing out that white men eat different food from Fijians, for do -they not live upon flour, tinned meat, rice, and other abominations? -And do they not despise the succulent yam, and turn up their noses at -pork, dried lizard, and tender snake? Therefore is it not obvious that -the powers of witchcraft will be lost upon such beings? Now we have -with us a Tongan servant, by name Lijiate (being the nearest Tongans -can get to Richard). This man, being half-educated, and above all a -Tongan, is full of contempt for Fijians and their barbarous customs. He -has long talked contemptuously of witchcraft, which he considers fit -only for the credence of heathens, not of good Christians like himself. -Here is a chance for Richard to distinguish himself and us. We make the -offer. Richard is to be bewitched on the same terms as ourselves. He at -least does eat yams and pork, and though he has not yet taken kindly -to snake, the difference is trifling. But we have counted without our -host. “<i>Fakamolemole</i>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> (pardon), says Richard, “I almost believe in it -myself. I pray you have me excused.” This spikes our gun, for though, -doubtless, some of our Fijian servants would consent to be experimented -on, they would probably pine away and die from pure fright, and -re-establish the belief in witchcraft for ever.</p> - -<p>Our discomfiture is best covered by attention to business. Two more -cases of larceny are heard and disposed of, and now two ancient -dames, clad in borrowed plumes, consisting of calico petticoat and -pinafore, are led before the table. Grey-headed and toothless, dim -as to sight and shapeless as to features, they look singularly out -of place in a court of law. Time was (and not so very long ago) when -women so decrepit as these would have had to make way for a more -vigorous generation by the simple and expeditious means of being -buried alive, but now they no longer fear the consequences of their -eccentricities. One of these old women is the prosecutrix, and the -charge is assault. We ask which is the prosecutrix, and immediately -one holds out and brandishes a hand from which one of the fingers has -been almost severed by a bite. She has altogether the most lugubrious -expression that features such as hers can assume, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> with the bitten -finger now permanently hung out like a signboard, words of complaint -are superfluous. The other has a truculent and forbidding expression. -She snaps out her answers as if she had bitten off the ends like the -prosecutrix’ finger, and shuts her mouth like a steel trap. The quarrel -which led to their appearance in court might have taken place in -Seven Dials. Defendant said something disparaging about prosecutrix’ -daughter. Prosecutrix retaliated by damaging references to defendant’s -son, and left the house hurriedly to enjoy the luxury of having had -last word. Defendant followed and searched the village for her, with -the avowed intention of skinning her alive. They met at last, and -having each called the other “a-roasted-corpse-fit-for-the-oven,” they -fell to with the result to the prosecutrix’ finger already described. -The mountain dialect used in evidence is almost unintelligible to us, -so that our admonition, couched in the Bauan, has to be translated -(with additions) by our native colleague. But our eloquence was all -wasted. Defendant utterly declines to express contrition. Our last -resource must be employed, and we inform her that if she does not -complete the task imposed on her as a fine she will be sent to Suva -jail, there to be confined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> with the Indian women. This awful threat -has its effect; and the dread powers of our court having thus been -vindicated, the crier proclaims its adjournment for three months. The -spectators troop out to spend the rest of the day in gossiping about -the delinquents and their cases. The men who have been sentenced -are already at work weeding round the court-house, subjects for the -breathless interest and pity of the bevy of girls who have just emerged -from court and are exchanging whispered comments upon the alteration -in a good-looking man when his hair is cut off. None are left in the -court-house but ourselves, the chiefs, and the older men. The table is -removed, and the room cleared of the paraphernalia of civilisation. -Enter two men bearing a large carved wooden bowl, a bucket of water, -and a root of <i>yangona</i>, which is presented to us ceremoniously, and -handed back to some young men at the bottom of the room to chew. -Meanwhile conversation becomes general, witchcraft is discussed in all -its branches, and compassion is expressed for the poor sceptical white -man; <i>sulukas</i> (cigarettes rolled in banana leaves) are lighted; the -chewed masses of <i>yangona</i> root are thrown into the bowl, mixed with -water, kneaded, strained, and handed to each person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> according to his -rank to drink; tongues are loosened, and it is time to draw the meeting -to a close. The sun is fast dipping into the western sea when the -last of our guests leave us, and we have a long moonlight ride before -us. There is but just time to pack up our traps and have a hasty meal -before we are left in darkness, but the moon will rise in an hour, so -we may start in safety in pursuit of the train of police and convicts -who are carrying the baggage.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE LAST OF THE CANNIBAL CHIEFS.</h2> - -<p>When Swift wrote his “Modest Proposal,” and argued with logical -seriousness that the want and over-population in Ireland should be -remedied by the simple expedient of eating babies, the satire was -not likely to be lost upon a people who regarded cannibalism with -such horror and loathing as do the European nations. The horror must -of course be instinctive, because we find it existing in the lowest -grades of society; but the instinct is confined to civilised man. -The word cannibal is associated in our minds with scenes of the most -debased savagery that the imagination can picture; of men in habits -and appearance a little lower than the brute; of orgies the result of -the most degrading religious superstition. It is not until one has -lived on terms of friendship with cannibals that one realises that the -practice is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> incompatible with an intelligence and moral qualities -which command respect. And after all, if one can for a moment lay aside -the instinctive horror which the idea calls up, and dispassionately -consider the nature of cannibalism, our repugnance to it seems less -logically grounded. It is true that it must generally entail murder, -but that is certainly not the reason for our loathing of it. It is -something deeper than this; and the distinction we draw between the -flesh of men and of animals is at first sight a little curious. -One can imagine the inhabitants of another planet, whose physical -necessities did not force them to eat flesh,—to take life in order to -live,—regarding us with much the same kind of abhorrence with which we -look on cannibals. Most of our natural instincts are based upon natural -laws, which, when broken, are sure to visit the breaker with their -penalties. The eating of unripe fruit, of putrid meat, or poisonous -matter, are some of these. But no penalty in the shape of disease seems -to be attached to cannibalism.</p> - -<p>What, then, are the motives that lead men, apart from the pressure -of famine, to practise cannibalism? Among certain African tribes, -and lately in Hayti, it has been the outcome of a debased religious -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>superstition, or that extraordinary instinct common to all races -which leads men to connect the highest religious enthusiasm with the -most horrible orgies that their diseased imagination can conceive. The -feeling that leads members of sects to bind themselves together by the -celebration of some unspeakable rite perhaps led to the accusations -laid against the Christians of the second century and the Hungarian -Jews of the nineteenth. But in the South Seas, although the motive has -been falsely attributed to a craving for animal food, it was generally -the last act of triumph over a fallen enemy. Thus Homer makes Achilles, -triumphing over the dying Hector, wish he could make mince-meat of his -body and devour it. Triumph could go no further than to slay and then -to assimilate the body of your foe; and the belief that, by thus making -him a part of you, you acquired his courage in battle, is said to have -led a chief of old Fiji to actually consume himself the entire body of -the man he had killed, by daily roasting what remained of it to prevent -decomposition.</p> - -<p>This is not a very promising introduction to a paper intended to -show that some cannibals at least may be very respectable members of -society. But it must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> clearly understood that the eccentricity which -seems so revolting to us is not incompatible with a strong sense of -duty, great kindness of heart, and warm domestic affection.</p> - -<p>Out of the many cannibals and ex-cannibals I have known, I will choose -the most striking figure as the subject of this sketch. I first met -the Buli of Nandrau in the autumn of 1886, when I took over the -Resident Commissionership of part of the mountain district of Fiji. -His history had been an eventful one, and while he had displayed those -qualities that would most win the admiration of Fijians, to us he -could not be otherwise than a remarkable character. Far away, in the -wild and rugged country in which the great rivers Rewa and Singatoka -take their rise, he was born to be chief of a fierce and aggressive -tribe of mountaineers. Constantly engaged in petty intertribal wars, -while still a young man he had led them from victory to victory, until -they had fought their way into perhaps the most picturesque valley in -all picturesque Fiji. Here, perched above the rushing Singatoka, and -overshadowed by two tremendous precipices which allowed the sun to -shine upon them for barely three hours a-day, they built their village, -and here they became a name and a terror to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> all the surrounding -tribes. A few miles lower down the river stood the almost impregnable -rock-fortress of the Vatusila tribe, and these became the stanch allies -of Nandrau. Together they broke up the powerful Noikoro, exacted -tribute from them, and made the river theirs as far as Korolevu; -together they blotted out the Naloto, who held the passes to the -northern coast, killing in one day more than four hundred of them, and -driving the remnant as outcasts into the plain. Long after the white -men had made their influence felt throughout Fiji,—long after the -chief of Bau was courted as King of Fiji,—these two tribes, secure -in their mountain fastnesses, lived their own life, and none, whether -Fijian or white man, dared pass over their borders.</p> - -<p>But their time was come. The despised white man, whom they had first -known in the humble guise of a shipwrecked sailor or an escaped -convict, was soon to overrun the whole Pacific, and before him the -most dreaded of the Fijian gods and chiefs, the most honoured of their -traditions, were to pass away and be forgotten.</p> - -<p>In the year 1867 a Wesleyan missionary named Baker, against the advice -of all the most experienced of the European settlers and the native -chiefs, announced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> his intention of exploring the mountain districts -alone. He said that he would take the Bible through Vitilevu. What -good to the missionary cause he hoped for from his hazardous journey -it is difficult to imagine. The harm that would certainly result to -his fellow-missionaries if he were killed, and the loss of life that -must ensue, must have been apparent to him and to every one else. But -in spite of every warning, he persisted in his foolhardy enterprise, -and he paid for it with his life and with the lives of several hundred -others. He ascended the river Rewa with a small party of native -teachers, but when he passed into the mountain district a whale’s tooth -followed him: for the power of the whale’s tooth is this—that he who -accepts it cannot refuse the request it carries with it, whether it -be for a mere gift, or for an alliance, or for a human life. So he -went on, while tribe after tribe refused to accept the fatal piece of -ivory; but none the less surely did it follow him. At length one night, -while he slept in a village of the Vatusila, the whale’s tooth passed -on before him to the rock fortress of Nambutautau, and their chief, -Nawawambalavu, took it. When, next morning, Baker resumed his march, -this chief met him in the road, and together they crossed the Singatoka -river. As they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> climbed the steep cliff which leads to Nambutautau, it -is recorded in a popular song of that time that the chief warned him -ironically of his impending fate. “We want none of your Christianity, -Mr Baker. I think that to-day you and I shall be clubbed.” Suddenly, -at a spot where the path lies between high reeds, on the edge of a -precipice, an attack was made upon them, and they were all struck down -except two native teachers who crawled into the thickest of the reeds -and made their way, the one to Rewa and the other to Bau, hiding during -the day-time and travelling under cover of the darkness. Baker’s body -was flung over the precipice, and the great wooden drum boomed out -its death-beat to the villages far down the valley. That night the -stone-ovens were heated for their work, and the feast was portioned out -to the various allies. But the most honourable portion—the head—was -sent to Nandrau, the subject of my sketch. At first he refused it, -disapproving of the murder, which his foresight warned him would bring -trouble upon them. But as his refusal threatened to sever the alliance, -he afterwards accepted it. It is recorded that the feet, from which the -long boots had not been removed, were sent to Mongondro, whose chief, a -melancholy, gentle-mannered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> old man, was much disappointed at finding -the skin of white men so tough.</p> - -<p>After terrible hardship and danger, the wounded teacher made his way to -the coast, and carried the news to Bau. A strong alliance was at once -formed among the coast tribes to avenge the murder, and to crush the -power of the mountaineers. There is in this part of Fiji no gradation -between the plains that fringe the coast and the mountains. A sheer -barrier of rock, looking like the ruins of a gigantic fortification, -rises boldly from the plain, broken only by the valleys which form the -river-beds. Behind this wall lay a land of mystery, whose inhabitants -were invested with superstitious terrors, to which their ferocity and -the extraordinary appearance of their huge mops of hair had doubtless -contributed.</p> - -<p>The attacking party was divided into three forces. One of them was to -advance up the Singatoka from the south, a second to enter the “Devil” -country by way of the Rewa from the east, and the third, commanded -by the King of Fiji in person, was to surprise the valley of Nandrau -from the northern coast. With the two first we have nothing to do, -because they were defeated by the intervening tribes and turned back -long before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> they reached their destination. The third, hoping to form -a junction with their allies, advanced boldly through the mountain -passes. The country seemed deserted. They burned two or three abandoned -villages, and emboldened by their success, they pressed on, more -like an eager rabble than a military force, each man hoping to be -the first to secure plunder. As they straggled over the grassy hills -that surround Nandrau, suddenly from every clump of reeds big-headed -warriors sprang up; they found themselves hemmed in, and Nandrau, -headed by their chief, spent the day in slaughtering the flower of -the Bau army. A remnant fled to the coast, hotly pursued by the -mountaineers; and so crushing was the defeat that the king, Thakombau, -narrowly escaped death at the hands of his vassals of Tavua.</p> - -<p>Not long after this victory, which had so firmly established his -prestige in the mountains, Buli Nandrau seems to have become favourably -inclined towards the Europeans; and when a joint expedition of whites -and natives was despatched to reduce Nambutautau, he seems to have -been permitted to remain neutral. Nambutautau was burnt, and the -Vatusila and Noikoro tribes compelled to sue for peace. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> 1874 Buli -Nandrau met Consul Layard, and promised his allegiance to the British -Government. Teachers were allowed to enter the principal mountain -villages, and until the year 1875 the mountaineers became nominal -Christians. In that year an event occurred which severely tried the -firmness and good sense of Buli Nandrau. The islands had been annexed -to Great Britain, and the mountain chiefs were invited to meet the -first Governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, at Navola on the southern coast. -Some of them accepted the invitation, among whom was Buli Nandrau, who -was anxious to judge for himself what the new order of things really -was. He frankly gave his allegiance to the Government, and in spite -of the strongest temptation he never wavered afterwards. For in the -same year a terrible epidemic of measles, introduced accidentally from -Sydney, carried off 40,000—nearly one-third of the whole population -of the islands. It was natural that the mountaineers, perishing under -this relentless and unknown disease, should have regarded it as the -vengeance of the gods they had so lately deserted. If Christianity were -a good thing, they said, why could it not save their children from -death? </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<p>And so, early in 1875, most of the mountain tribes threw off the <i>sulu</i> -(the Christian dress), and returned to the worship of their heathen -gods. Only Buli Nandrau, seeing what the end must be, remained stanch, -and by forming a barrier between the revolted tribes and those still -wavering in their loyalty, prevented the disaffection from spreading. -An expedition was despatched under Captain, now Major, Knollys, and, -with the assistance of the native allies, soon reduced the rebels to -submission. They all nominally again embraced Christianity, and an -entrenched camp, garrisoned by an armed native force, and commanded by -a Resident Commissioner, was established to ensure the future peace of -the district.</p> - -<p>Protected by their isolation from the vices of civilisation, and -enjoying a large share of self-government, these reformed cannibals are -to-day the most contented and prosperous of all the Queen’s subjects -in Fiji; and if ever it has been necessary to adopt measures for their -good which they could not understand at the time, the Commissioner has -been always sure of the support and influence of Buli Nandrau.</p> - -<p>I first saw him at the Provincial Council at Navola<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> in 1886. He had -no sooner arrived with his retinue than he sent his <i>mata</i> (herald) to -announce him, and in a few minutes entered my house alone. He was a -very tall, erect old man of about sixty-five or seventy—grey-haired, -keen-eyed, and intelligent-looking. After the usual ceremonies -inseparable from Fijian etiquette, he sat down and spoke of the -politics of the district. It appeared to me remarkable that a man who -had only left his native mountains two or three times, to take part -in the great Council of Chiefs, should be so well acquainted with the -history and political situation of the coast tribes of Fiji. He spoke -with great affection of Sir Arthur Gordon and of the ex-Commissioner, -and bewailed the death of the great mountain chiefs whose places were -now inadequately filled by their sons.</p> - -<p>He was never absent from his place for a moment during the three days -the council lasted, and his interest in the trivial affairs of other -districts never flagged. It was curious to observe the great deference -paid to his opinion by the other chiefs. When one of them, Buli Naloto, -was found to have failed in his duties, Nandrau was appointed to -reprove and caution him. His speech, which was short and to the point,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -was a model of that kind of eloquence. “Art thou,” he said, “a chief -in thine own right, to make war and to make peace as it pleases thee? -Where was thy tribe before the Government came? A scattered remnant, -seeking refuge on the plains from the vengeance of Nandrau! But the -Government has taken pity on thee, and the land is at peace. Why art -thou then disobedient to the Government, who has made thee a chief, -and re-established thee in the lands of thy fathers?” This reproof was -received by Buli Naloto with the most abject humility.</p> - -<p>Not long after this, Buli Nandrau consulted me about the projected -marriage of his daughter with the provincial scribe, who lived with me. -He wished, he said, to cement by this marriage the ancient ties between -Nandrau and Noikoro, but the day had passed for marrying girls against -their will. His elder daughter had been a great grief to him. She had -been so married, and had not long ago put an end to her life. Did I, -he asked, from what I knew of Durutalo, think that Janeti would be -happy with him?<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" >[1]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>This was not the only example I had of his strong -domestic affection.</p> - -<p>In the spring of the following year he wrote to me, asking for medicine -to relieve a pain in his jaw, and from this time he was unable to -leave his village. At length, one day early in July 1887, I received a -pathetic letter from him, asking me to lose no time in coming to him. -“I am very ill,” he wrote, “and I would have you see my face before I -die.”</p> - -<p>As the messenger, when questioned, made light of his illness, and I was -myself not well enough to undertake so tiring a journey, I determined -to wait until I was sure that his urgency was not merely the result of -low spirits. But late on the following Sunday night I was awakened by -the challenge of the sentry, and immediately afterwards the deep cry -of respect, known as the <i>tama</i>, sounded outside my sleeping-house. -Lights were brought, and on the doorstep crouched a man, muddy, -travel-stained, and exhausted by a long journey. I recognised him as -a native of Nandrau, who was selected for his fleetness as district -messenger, and when I saw that his hair and beard were cut short, I -knew the nature of his errand. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The chief is dead,” he said; “and he told Tione not to bury him till -you, sir, had seen his face. Tione sends you this message.”</p> - -<p>There was another reason that required my presence at Nandrau: Tione -was not the only claimant to the succession, and I must be there to -prevent a disturbance. The messenger would not even wait for food, but -returned at once to announce my coming.</p> - -<p>In a moment the camp was all awake, and the men turned out to prepare -for the journey. The horses were brought in and saddled, and the -baggage rolled up in parcels to be carried over the mountain roads. -Before daybreak we were fording the river with an escort of some -thirty armed constabulary and baggage-carriers. The road lay for some -miles along the crest of a forest-clad ridge more than three thousand -feet above the sea-level, and when it emerged near the old site of -Nambutautau into open country, nothing could exceed the grandeur of the -scenery. Two thousand feet below us on the right rushed the Singatoka, -foaming among great boulders of rock, and still towering above us was -the great wooded range that formed the watershed of the island; while -far away before us rose the mountain-wall which separated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> Tholo from -the plains, seeming with its bare masses of castellated rock like a -great ruined fortification. And now the road began to descend, and -following a precipitous path, which momentarily endangered the legs -of our horses, we plunged into the cool shadow of the precipices -that overhung Nandrau. At a turn in the road we saw below us the now -historical village, jutting out over the river upon a broad ledge of -rock. The <i>rara</i>, or village square, was crowded with people, and I -noticed a train of women descending the sheer face of the opposite -cliff, with loaded baskets on their backs, holding on to stout vines -to steady themselves. Here we halted to give time to a messenger to -announce our arrival, according to native custom. We watched him -enter the village, and saw the people vanish as if by magic into the -houses, or sit in groups at the foot of the cocoa-nut palms, and then, -in perfect silence, we passed through the village. At the fence that -separated the dead chief’s enclosure from the square we dismounted, and -were conducted by his eldest son, Tione, to the clean matted house in -which we were to lodge.</p> - -<p>All through the night there was an incongruous mixture of the sounds -of merriment and sorrow. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> the river-bank behind our house the five -widows of the dead chief, with their women, howled and wailed till -morning, like animals in pain. Sometimes the wails would die away into -faint moans, and then a wild shriek from one of them would set them all -going again. But on the other side stood the great <i>bure</i>, where all -the funeral guests were feasting and drinking <i>yangona</i> in honour of -the departed spirit.</p> - -<p>Early next morning a messenger came to the door of our hut to ask if -we would see the Buli’s face. Followed by several of my men carrying -the funeral gifts, I climbed to a small house built upon a high stone -foundation. The inside was crowded with the neighbouring chiefs, -and I took my seat in silence. At the far end, wrapped in folds of -native cloth and the finest mats, lay the body. The whale’s tooth -and funeral gifts were now brought in and formally presented by the -<i>Mata-ni-vanua</i>, and accepted by an old man in the ancient Nandrau -dialect, of which I could scarcely understand one word. And then, when -a costly <i>Rotuma</i> mat had been given for the body to lie upon in the -grave, I made a short speech in the Bau dialect, and was conducted to -see the face uncovered.</p> - -<p>At mid-day the great wooden drum was tolled, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> the armed -constabulary, looking very neat in their white <i>sulus</i> and blue tunics, -were drawn up as a guard of honour near the cairn which was to form the -grave. At length the body, wrapped in mats, and followed by the wives -and relations of the dead chief, passed slowly to the grave. Among all -the mourners, I only noticed one case of genuine grief—the chief’s -daughter, Janeti; all the others, as is usual in Fijian funerals, -appeared to wail in a prescribed form. Indeed one of the widows, having -probably seldom seen a white man before, stopped wailing for a moment -to point me out eagerly to the other mourners. Then the body was -carried into the little hut that surmounted the cairn, and we stood in -the broiling sun until a native teacher had delivered a sort of funeral -sermon.</p> - -<p>When all was finished, every one acted according to the old proverb, -“Le roi est mort!—Vive le roi!” and the question of whom I would -appoint as his successor became the subject of discussion. When I -returned to my house, I saw the widows at the water’s edge breaking up -a number of carved wooden utensils with stones. These were the cups -and dishes of their dead husband, which no man must henceforth touch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -lest their teeth drop out or they be bewitched. For if a man should -drink from the cup of one who has eaten his relation, such evil will -certainly befall him. But as I was exempt from this danger, the cup and -the platter and fork, used by the Buli in old days for human flesh, -were presented to me.</p> - -<p>At three o’clock I summoned a great meeting of all the natives, at -which speeches in honour of the late chief were made, and I there -provisionally appointed Tione—a rather unintelligent man of about -thirty-five—to succeed his father, having first ascertained that this -appointment would be acceptable to the majority. In the evening the -people of Nandrau made a great feast to their visitors, and gave them -return presents—a polite intimation that they were expected to leave -on the following morning. These having been divided among the various -tribes who were represented, feasting was continued until a late hour. -But about nine o’clock, before the moon rose, an old man went out into -the bush to call the dead Buli’s spirit. We heard his voice calling -in the distance for several minutes, and then, amid the breathless -silence of the assembled people, we heard the footsteps of some one -running. “He has the spirit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> on his shoulders,” said a man near me, as -the old man rushed past me to the tomb. Apparently he must have thrown -the spirit into it, for after crying out, “It is all well,” every one -retired quietly to their huts for the night.</p> - -<p>Before daybreak the next morning, Buli Nandrau was forgotten in the -bustle of speeding parting guests, and as the sun rose our bugle -sounded the “fall-in.” Passing out of the sombre shadow of the great -cliff, we rode into bright sunlight, and we felt that just so had the -shadows of the past given place to the light of a clearer knowledge, -and that with this old warrior the old order had passed away, and a new -had come.</p> - -<h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1">[1]</a> This marriage afterwards took place, and, less than a year -later, Janeti, too, attempted her own life. This was after her father’s -death.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<h2>TAUYASA OF NASELAI, REFORMER.</h2> - -<p>Tauyasa, commoner, of Naselai village, of the tribe Kai Nuku, lived -years before his time. It was his misfortune that he was born a savage -with a brown skin: it should not be his fault if he did not enjoy the -sweets of civilisation. White men owned land on the banks of the great -river: so did he. White men wore trousers and ate with a knife and -fork: so would he. White men owned cutters and paid his countrymen -to work for them: and so he bought a cutter of his own and paid his -fellow-villagers to plant his bananas. White men had chairs and tables, -glass windows and wooden floors, horses and saddles, and an account -at the bank: Tauyasa persevered until at last he possessed all these. -And so Tauyasa came to be well thought of and patronised by his white -neighbours, and the more he rose in their estimation the deadlier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> grew -the envy of his own people. For Tauyasa was no chief, and among his -people to attempt to rise above the station to which one is born, and -to refuse to give to him who asks, are social crimes beside which all -other sins are mere errors of judgment. But Tauyasa cared for nothing -but that his bananas should have fifteen “hands” to the bunch, and that -his cutter should not be too late for the steamer. When the commission -agent showed him his account sales, he took the cheque straight to the -bank, and received from the teller a slip on which his total balance -was written, which he would compare with some cabalistic signs he -had in a soiled copy-book at home. For Tauyasa applied his knowledge -of human nature wherever his financial reasoning failed him. “The -foreigner,” he argued, “who owns this bank does not guard my money and -make it multiply because he loves me, but because he hopes some day to -steal some of it. Therefore will I ask him every two weeks to confess -how much he has. Then, although I am black, he will not rob me unless -he robs the other foreigners whose money he keeps, and this he will not -dare to do.”</p> - -<div class="center" id="i038.jpg"><img src="images/i038.jpg" alt="On the night of each return from the capital" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>On the night of each return from the capital.</i>”</p> - -<p>But on the night of each return from the capital he could not escape -from the ties of kindred. First, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> came his uncle, a plaintive -old man, who carefully bolted the door before unburdening himself of -his troubles. He had no lamp, for the kerosene was dry, and there was -no sugar to drink with his tea, so he drank no tea, and his stomach -felt so bad that he thought some foreign drink was the only medicine -that would cure him. Then a peremptory voice from without summoned him -to open the door, and Alivate, the chief’s henchman, was admitted. He -had all the self-confidence that distinguishes those who bask in the -smiles of royalty. “Greeting!” he said. “The chief has sent me to you -to borrow your horse for to-morrow. I will take it now with the saddle. -Also he wants a root of <i>yangona</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Will the chief send the horse back? The last time he left the horse at -Namata, and the saddle was lost.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he will send it back. Give me the saddle.”</p> - -<p>He gave place to a man in a white shirt, with a book and pencil, all -deprecating piety and smiles, who called Tauyasa “sir,” and seemed -in his way of speaking to be perpetrating a cruel caricature of the -neighbouring Wesleyan missionary. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have come, sir,” he said at last, with a little chuckle, “about the -<i>vaka-misonari</i>. Paula has promised to give one pound, the same as you -gave last year. It is written in the book that Paula will give this. -You, sir, will doubtless give two pounds this year. Your name will then -be printed so that all will know. I will write down two pounds, sir. Is -it not so?”</p> - -<p>After him came Savuke, Tauyasa’s second cousin, with a pitiful tale -about her husband, sentenced that day by the courts to pay five pounds -for beating an Indian with a stick. “If he does not pay to-morrow,” she -said tearfully, “they will crop his hair, and he will work, and then -who will feed me and the child? The Indian was a bad Indian, as they -all are, nor did he beat him hard, but only twice—on the head. And I, -knowing your pitiful nature, have come to you, Tauyasa, because you are -my relation and have much money, and afterwards Joseva will pay you -back.”</p> - -<p>“Joseva owes me seven pounds already.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he knows that, and the remembrance is heavy with him. He is still -seeking money with which to pay you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, I will release him from the debt that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> his mind may be at -rest, but this money that you ask I cannot give.”</p> - -<p>Then Tauyasa’s wife, who had been visiting a neighbour, came to greet -her lord. Their child was lately dead, though Tauyasa had bought two -cows and fed it upon milk, and otherwise followed all the directions -for rearing infants that were printed in ‘Na Mata.’ She, too, was the -bearer of bad news. Some one—presumably an enemy—had stolen the cows’ -tether-ropes, and one of them, the spotted one, had been found in the -Company’s cane-field, having damaged many stools of cane, and the white -one could not be found at all. “I think it is the Indians,” she said; -but Tauyasa thought otherwise, and said nothing.</p> - -<p>The man with the book had accomplished his devastating raid, and had -set down the names of half the village to give “to the Lord” more than -they possessed. Therefore, rather than break faith so pledged, they -must beg, borrow, or steal enough to meet their obligations. First, of -course, they tried Tauyasa, but he had heard a friend of his, a white -storekeeper, assailed in the same way, and he knew the logical answer. -“If you must owe money at all, it is better to owe it ‘to the Lord,’ -who can afford it, than to me who cannot. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>Besides, you would be giving -my money and calling it yours, which is a lie, for which you would -certainly be punished in hell.” But that night several of Tauyasa’s -imported hens were missing.</p> - -<p>At last they all went and left him alone to take the cure for all -the cares of civilised life; and, a little less than half drunk, he -went off to the store to associate with his equals. There his voice -might have been heard haranguing the knot of grinning colonists who -frequented the store, and his peroration ran thus: “God made a mistake -when He made me black. Um [tapping his chest], black man! Um [tapping -his forehead], white man!”</p> - -<p>But though Tauyasa increased in wealth and substance, his life was -not happy. It is true that his people had given up <i>kerekere</i>, and -no longer begged his money from him; but they took no pains to hide -their hatred and contempt. It was in vain for him to show them that -so long as they held their goods in common they must remain savages. -They preferred to live from day to day, as their fathers did, leaving -the morrow to take care of itself. It was well enough for a foreigner, -who knew no better, to work all day, and to hoard money, and to give -nothing for nothing; but here was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> one of themselves aping the ways -of foreigners as an excuse to cover his natural churlishness and -inhospitality. “To do like Tauyasa” became a by-word in the village. -Truly, he was born before his time: he was of the stuff of which -reformers are made, and he met the reformer’s fate. He had quarrelled -with his wife because she gave away his things in his absence; his own -people would have nothing to do with him, and the foreigners whom he -imitated despised him.</p> - -<p>So Tauyasa began to worry, and the native who does that is doomed, -because he was born to a life free from care, and has had no training -in the curse of Adam. He grew thin and irritable, and no longer joined -the nightly meetings at the store. But the more he worried the bitterer -were the taunts of his people, and a kind friend, of course, repeated -them to him. Then a day came when the cutter’s sails were stripped, and -the bananas hung uncut, although a steamer had come in these two days; -for Tauyasa would ship no more bananas, having taken to his mat, and -given out that he would die that day week. It was in vain for those of -his white friends that had heard of his illness to send him soup, and -medicines, and milk-puddings cunningly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> devised, for Tauyasa would eat -none of them, knowing that he must die, and caring not to live—for -there was bitterness in his heart against the world and all men in it. -And upon the day appointed Tauyasa died as he had said, and his body -was wrapped in rolls of white <i>masi</i> and mats, and buried, and his -spirit went to its own place.</p> - -<p>Then it was found how many brothers Tauyasa had, and how many brothers -his father and mother had. They all came to his house after the funeral -to transact some little matters of business. There was a want of -brotherly love at this meeting, for Tauyasa had owned a cutter worth -£200, and a cutter cannot be satisfactorily divided among several -eldest brothers. There was a horse, too, and a table, and cupboards, -and many camphor-wood boxes made in China, and in one of the boxes -there were many bottles that would each have cost the vendor fifty -pounds in fines had the police known. There was not much said about -Tauyasa. It was a sad thing, no doubt, that he was dead, but did not -his possessions remain? At evening it was all settled. The eldest uncle -had the house with the glass windows, and the brothers had all the -rest: only Tauyasa’s wife got nothing because she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> was a bad woman, and -did not love Tauyasa; and besides, she belonged to a different tribe.</p> - -<p>And on the Sabbath the <i>lali</i> beat for service, and the same teacher -took the pulpit that had come to Tauyasa about his contribution to -the <i>vaka-misonari</i>. It was a powerful sermon—all about the wicked -and hell, and such things, and it was none the less powerful that -the preacher was mimicking the ravings and the whispers, and the -cushion-thumping denunciations, of the district missionary who had -taught him. They were all sinners, he summed up—they broke the -Commandments every day: but there was forgiveness for all there -present. Yet, he added in a hoarse whisper, there were some who could -never be forgiven. Then with the roar of an angry bull he shouted, -“Who shipped China bananas on the Sabbath?” “On the Sabbath,” repeated -the echo from the other side of the river. “Who shipped China bananas -on the Sabbath?” Then in the hushed pause that followed he whispered -hoarsely, “Tauyasa! Tauyasa!”</p> - -<p>Again he roared, banging the table with his fist, “Where is Tauyasa -now? Where is Tauyasa now?”—“yasa now” cried the echo. He glared at -the village policeman as if expecting him to answer, and lifted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> his -clenched fist before him, twisting it slowly from side to side, and -hissing from behind his teeth, “<i>Sa mongimongi tiko e na mbuka wanga</i>. -He is squirming in the everlasting fire.”</p> - -<p>Thus ended Tauyasa, Reformer,—condemned in this world and the next, -like his prototypes.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A COOLIE PRINCESS.</h2> - -<p>“We’re to have about nine hundred of the Jumna lot on this plantation. -They seem to be an average lot of coolies, seeing that Mauritius -and Demarara get first pick—sweepings of the Calcutta jails, with -a sprinkling of hillmen from Nepaul. They cost a trifle over twenty -pounds a-head to introduce; but I ought not to grumble, as they’ve -thrown the Princess into my batch. Not heard of the Princess? She’s -a howling swell from Nepaul—nose-rings and bangles from head to -foot—husband pretender to the throne of those parts—beheaded, -drawn, and quartered for high treason—Princess saved by faithful -retainer—just time to clap the contents of the family jewel-case on -her body before the lord high executioner called—weeks in the saddle -disguised as a man—flung herself upon the mercy of the recruiting -agent, and breathlessly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> pledged herself to work for ninepence a-day -for five years trashing cane beyond the black water. That’s <i>her</i> -story, and she can show you the jewels and the faithful retainer to -prove it.”</p> - -<p>“And do you think she’ll work?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say, not knowing much of the ways of princesses; but if she -don’t, you’ll see her in your court under section thirty-four of the -Principal Ordinance, which has no proviso for princesses, and then it -will be your pleasing duty to make her work.”</p> - -<p>Then Onslow, the manager, rode off, leaving me to sign warrants for the -batch of refractory coolies just sentenced.</p> - -<p>In due course the “Jumna” batch were towed up the river in a -sugar-punt, and turned loose into the new coolie lines. We could hear -them at night settling down—a babel of strident voices, dominated at -moments by a howling chant, with tom-tom accompaniment. A week later -they had built in the verandah of the long building with partitions -of empty kerosene and biscuit tins beaten flat. Filthy rags obscured -every doorway; naked children were rolling in the sun-baked dust, -and besmearing themselves with the fetid mud from the puddles of -waste-water thrown <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>outside the doors. There a wild-looking mother -squatted in the shade, performing the last offices to the head of her -youngest, while two older children leaned against her back playing with -her lank greasy hair. A girl of five, with tiny silver bangles on arms -and ankles, was gravely marching the length of the building, supporting -on her head with one hand a brass bowl of smoking rice, while with -the other she held up her long petticoat; and over all there were -flies, and noise, and stench, and happiness enough for a twelvemonth’s -occupation. The new coolies were settling down. Somewhere in the -building the Princess must have held her court, or perhaps she was in -solitude learning “the sorrow’s crown of sorrow.”</p> - -<p>Then the first tasks were set, and the trouble began. Friday’s -informations for absence from work rose from twenty-three to -sixty-seven, and on Tuesday at ten o’clock a vast crowd of the -accused and their sympathisers, curious and bewildered, disfigured -the grass-plot at the court-house door. A burly Fijian constable was -surveying them with a disgusted curl of the nostril, such as may be -seen any Friday afternoon at the reptile-house of the Zoological -Gardens. The luckless overseer had but one story to tell—of tasks -set but not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> attempted—light tasks, suitable for the new and -inexperienced—five chains trashing Honolulu cane—no more. The pleas -for the defence would have melted the heart of a wheel-barrow. “You -are my father and my mother, but I am a stone-mason. The white sahib -told me that I should work at my trade. I can build houses, but I -cannot cut cane.”—“I am a goldsmith. I never said I would work in the -fields.”—“What can I say? You are my judge. My belly is empty, and I -cannot work,”—and so forth. They were discharged with a caution.</p> - -<p>“That is all the men,” said the overseer; “the rest are women.”</p> - -<p>“Arjuna!” cried the clerk.</p> - -<p>“Arjuna!” repeated the Indian constable outside.</p> - -<p>There was a pause.</p> - -<p>“Is the woman here?” asked the interpreter impatiently.</p> - -<p>“She is here,” returned the officer from without.</p> - -<p>There followed sounds of persuasion, amounting almost to entreaty, -such as are unusual from the mouths of minions of the law. Then when -expectation had been wrought to the highest dramatic pitch, the -sunlight from the door was darkened, and there burst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> upon our dazzled -gaze a vision of gold ornaments and gauzy draperies.</p> - -<p>“The Princess,” whispered the overseer, with a deprecating smile.</p> - -<p>She was tall and willowy, and her slender limbs seemed to be weighed -down with the burden of the bangles that almost hid them. Heavy gold -circlets seemed to crush the tiny ankle-bones, and every slender toe -was be-ringed. Besides earrings and the gold stud that emphasises the -curve of the nostril, she wore no head ornaments, but the shawl that -fell from her hair was of the finest striped gauze. She must have -been fully twenty, but the brightness of her eyes was still undimmed -by time. She surveyed the thatched court-house with a glance of cool -contempt, and walked proudly to the reed fence that did duty for a dock.</p> - -<p>“You are charged with absence from work.”</p> - -<p>The Princess glanced sideways at the interpreter, and then stared -straight at the beam over my head.</p> - -<p>“She told the sirdar she didn’t mean to do any work.”</p> - -<p>The evidence is interpreted to the accused.</p> - -<p>“Has she anything to say?”</p> - -<p>The interpreter might have put the question to the wall with as much -result. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then tell her that she has come from India to work for five years, and -work she must; if she does not, she will be punished, and eventually -sent to jail, where she will be made to work.”</p> - -<p>The accused slightly raises her royal eyebrows.</p> - -<p>“She is fined three shillings, or seven days’ imprisonment.”</p> - -<p>At these words she turned round and beckoned to the bank of heads -that had gradually filled the doorway. Four men broke from the -group—Nepaulese by their looks—and came in. One of them, evidently -the Keeper of the Privy Purse, making deep salaam, advanced to the -clerk’s table and dropped twelve threepenny bits upon it. The feelings -of the interpreter at the coolness of the whole proceeding were too -deep for words, and before he could translate his explosive English -into the vernacular, the Princess had left the court with her suite. -Then followed comments in Hindustani from without that filled Ramdas, -the wizened Indian constable, with righteous indignation. Translated -they were, “Call this a court-house? Why, it is made of grass! They -should see the court-houses in India!”</p> - -<p>For the next two weeks the Princess was known to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> the outer world -by rumour only, which had it that she was scarcely behaving as a -widowed Princess should behave. The Keeper of the Privy Purse had, it -was said, been encouraged to aspire to the consort’s chair, and the -other Ministers were becoming jealous. Nor was this all. There were -aspirants for royal favour outside the Ministry, who threatened to -disorganise the household. Within the month her name reappeared in -the charge-sheet. It was a second offence, and the fine was therefore -heavier; but again her almoner satisfied the demands of the law. -After that there was quiet for a space, because the suite took it in -rotation to perform their mistress’s task besides their own. There -were even rumours of subscriptions among her sympathisers to buy out -her indentures from the manager. But there came a change. Competition -for royal favour must have become so keen, or the Princess herself -must have behaved in so unroyal a manner, that a day came when the -smouldering feuds in the household burst into flame, and there was -something very like a riot. In the actions and counter-actions for -assault brought by the men of Nepaul against one another, the royal -name was bandied about very freely, and it became evident that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> a part -at least of her vassals had thrown off the yoke. Money, moreover, had -been lent, and the borrower denied the debt, and brought four witnesses -at a shilling a-head to counterbalance the plaintiff’s four engaged -at the same rate. Between the eight witnesses swearing irreconcilable -opposites, the court had to decide whether money had passed or not. -Then the wily old Ramdas, constable and priest, came softly to the -bench and whispered into its ear, “S’pose me fetchum Kurân, dis feller -no tellum lie; he too much ’fraid.” Armed with authority, he left the -court, going delicately, and presently returned on tiptoe, carrying on -his extended hands a massive volume as if it was an overheated dish. -Pausing before the table he said with due solemnity, “By an’ by he -kissum, dis feller he plenty ’fraid. Dis Kurân belonger me. Abdul Khan -he sabe readim, me no sabe, on’y little bit, other feller he no sabe! -On’y Abdul Khan sabe!” Then bending forward with bated breath he said, -“He cost three pound twelve shillin’ along Calcutta.” His own reverence -seemed doubled as he recalled the stupendous cost of the volume. Then -with great ceremony he gave Joynauth the book and made him swear, -laying it upon his head. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Joynauth, did Benain give you this money?”</p> - -<p>“Sahib, he did; with my eyes I saw him!”</p> - -<p>Ramdas’s excitement was great. He was going about the court-house on -tiptoe, holding his sides with both hands, and blowing softly from his -mouth.</p> - -<p>“Dis feller no lie. He makim swear along Kurân, he too much ’fraid;” -and he glared at the defendant triumphantly as who should say, “You are -convicted, and mine is the hand that did it!”</p> - -<p>The defendant was recalled. “Swear him too, Ramdas.”</p> - -<p>He paused in holy horror at carrying the awful test further.</p> - -<p>“What for dis feller makim swear, sahib? Joynauth, he no lie, he -<i>plenty</i> too much ’fraid.”</p> - -<p>“Swear him, Ramdas.”</p> - -<p>Threateningly he gave Benain the book, and the dread oath was -administered.</p> - -<p>“Benain, did you give Joynauth this money?”</p> - -<p>“Sahib, he lies; I did not.”</p> - -<p>The shock to poor Ramdas’s feelings was too great for words. He could -only gasp, and dance from one foot to the other. “Oh,” he cried at -last, “one man he die very soon, one week, I think!” For it was -evident<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> that to one at least of the parties a Kurân that had cost -three pound twelve in Calcutta was no more sacred than the book the -Kafirs kissed. It mattered nothing to him what decision the court -came to. He had simply to watch the stroke of doom fall, as fall it -must, upon the perjurer. But two years have passed since that day, -and both the witnesses survive, while a stroke of doom, if dismissal -from the police force can be so called, has fallen upon Ramdas himself -in connection with an adventure in which a bottle of spirits took a -leading part. But Ramdas now touts for cases for a solicitor in coolie -practice, and is a light and an expounder of the Scriptures to the -faithful; and since both these occupations pay better than the police, -perhaps he discerns the hand of Allah in his dismissal, and still -awaits his vengeance upon the perjurer.</p> - -<p>Since open feuds had weakened the ties of loyalty, the poor Princess -found that she must either wound her slender hands with the sharp-edged -leaves of the Honolulu cane for a slender pittance of ninepence a-day, -or again figure in the charge-sheet. She chose the latter as being -more in consonance with her dignity. In due course the blue paper -that she refused to take was flung at her feet by a policeman, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> -for the third time she underwent the ordeal of prosecution with a -self-possession born of practice. This time—her third offence—no -almoner would avail, for she was sentenced to fourteen days’ hard -labour without the option of a fine.</p> - -<p>Ramdas would have pounced upon her and haled her forth as soon as the -sentence was pronounced if he had not been restrained. The indignity of -being herded with the other dirty and dishevelled female prisoners was -enough without that. At daybreak the wooden station drums sounded for -work, and the Princess’s troubles began. It was Meli’s daily triumph to -muster the Indian prisoners in a row, and bring up the stragglers into -their places with a jerk that audibly clashed their teeth together. -These spindle-shanked, stinking coolies called him a bushman!—him, -Meli, versed in all chiefly ceremonial, a bushman! Therefore should -they know the strength of his arm. The women had sulkily taken their -places in obedience to the peremptory command of their tormentor; but -the Princess, herself accustomed to command, stood afar off under a -clump of feathery bamboos, indifferently watching the scene.</p> - -<p>“<i>Lako sara mai koiko.</i> You there! What are you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> doing? You female -roasted corpse! Come here. <i>Kotemiu!</i> (G—d d—n.) Come here, <i>vulari -vulu</i>” (—— fool).</p> - -<p>The Princess regarded him with lazy curiosity. Then there was the sound -of swift running, and as a falcon stoops to the trembling rabbit, so -did Meli swoop down upon the now frightened Princess. There was the -hurtling of a body through the air, a misty vision of flying draperies -and shining gold, a chinking together of many metals, and the Princess -was in her place in the line, dishevelled and bewildered, but in the -finest rage that it had ever been Meli’s fate to call down upon his -woolly head. The storm burst, and all discipline was at an end. He -succumbed without a murmur, knowing instinctively that to attempt to -check such a torrent would bring down upon him the angry flood of -thirteen other female tongues. His colleague left his gang in the -bananas to look on, and the male prisoners threw down their hoes and -peered, grinning, from among the broad shining leaves, to see his -discomfiture. It is not necessary to repeat all the Princess said. Her -past history, her present wrongs, her opinion of bushmen in general -and Meli in particular, the glories of the Government of India, and -the infamy of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> Government of the colony, were all exhaustively -discussed in language more forcible than elegant. Long after Meli had -hustled her companions off to their work, she was still declaiming in -a voice that cut the ear like a knife. But when she became conscious -that her audience had dwindled to five grinning native prisoners who -did not understand her, the outbursts of eloquence became spasmodic, -and at last she fell back upon the jail to brood over her wrongs. Then -Meli’s courage returned to him, and, armed with a murderous-looking -weeding-knife, he followed her to her lair. In two minutes, loudly -protesting, she found herself sitting on the grass path with her -fingers forcibly closed upon the handle of the knife, which, resist -as she would, cut the grass before her with the superior force of -Meli’s arm. When left to herself she furiously flung the knife into the -bananas, and wept tears of impotent rage. But the native warder, who -sat perched on the fork of a dead tree watching the male prisoners as -they weeded the bananas, took no notice of her, and so she dried her -tears and fell to watching him as he threw stone after stone from the -pile in his lap with unerring aim at the prisoners guilty of shirking -their work. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> - -<p>But later in the day two Nepaulese, aspirants for court favour, -appeared on the scene and energetically cut the grass set for -their liege-lady’s task, while she sat listless and indifferent, -condescending now and again to pluck with her slender fingers a -single blade of grass, with an insolent affectation of satisfying the -requirements of the law, whenever the official eye fell upon her. She -may have plucked thirty blades of grass in the working day, perhaps not -quite so many; but it was much to have vindicated the discipline of the -jail, and more to have made the Princess do any work at all. Her spirit -was so far broken, and the romance of her story may be said to have -ended here.</p> - -<p>Coolies may buy out their indentures for a round sum, and by some means -this sum was raised among her admirers. There were burglaries in the -neighbourhood about that time; and one indeed of the suite was arrested -on suspicion by the European sergeant of police, who said as usual, -when called upon to produce evidence, “It’s a well-known fact that he’s -a noted scoundrel, and I submit to your worship that that’s evidence.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LEONE OF NOTHO.</h2> - -<p>“Ië, Setariki, how long did the foreigner say that I must stay bound? -Until the month January? That is, after the day of the New Year, and -there are four moons to set till then. It is always the way of the -Government—wait, wait—till the bones of those who wait crumble away. -If I <i>must</i> die, let me die now, Setariki. I told the foreigner in the -court that I slew the woman, and the payment is death; therefore, where -is the use of waiting? You are a policeman and know the law?”</p> - -<p>“The law is this—that you be judged in the Great Court that is held -but four times every year. Na-vosa-vakadua [He-who-speaks-once] will -judge you, and the foreigners in turbans of sheepskin will dispute and -quarrel about you in their own tongue, so that you cannot understand, -and the witnesses will swear to speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> the truth, and will make all -things plain; but one of the foreigners with sheepskin on their heads -will ask them many questions to entrap them, and speak angrily to them, -seeking to hide the truth, so that their senses will fly from them for -fear, and they will lie, and the truth be darkened. Thus did Manoa -escape, and that other woman who drowned the white man, although they -themselves bore witness that they had done the thing of which they were -accused. But they were women, and you, being a man, I greatly fear that -you will not escape. The ways of the foreigners are strange, and you -cannot understand them; but I, being a policeman in the service of the -Government, understand them all; and this I know, Leone, that it is -better to be judged in the Great Court, where the judge knows nothing -of our tongue, than in the court of the province; for in the Great -Court there is much disputing and much darkening of the truth, so that -many of the guilty escape.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, Setariki; even though they darken the truth until none shall know -it from the false, yet cannot I escape, for I have told the bald-headed -magistrate that I slew Lusiana.”</p> - -<p>“The foreigners I have told you of, whose business it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> is to twist the -truth—<i>loya</i> they are called—will come to you in the prison, and -teach you how to lie before the court, and will even lie themselves -on your behalf if you will first give them money. The Indians do this -every day, feeding these <i>loya</i> with money, and they in return save the -Indians from the law. Therefore send to your relations to gather money -together for the <i>loya</i>. Send to Vita, who has the rent of your land -where the store is; tell him not to spend that money, but to sell copra -to add to it. Now tell me the manner of the accusation.”</p> - -<p>“What is there to tell? I am Leone of Notho, of the fishermen clan. I -did in truth slay the woman Lusiana my wife. It fell thus. I gave the -marriage gifts, and my house was built as the law requires; then I took -her and we were married. This was ten Sabbaths ago. She was of good -report, and none knew aught to her dishonour, so that I feared no other -man when I took her to be my wife. She was a woman of a mild spirit and -obedient, and I rejoiced greatly in her. Then, one night as we lay upon -the one mat under the screen, I, being nearly asleep, heard a tapping -upon the bread-fruit tree that grew near the door—such as a <i>sese</i> -makes with its beak upon a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> branch when it eats grasshoppers, only -louder; and as I lay wondering what it might be, the sound came again, -and from the mat where Lusiana lay there was the sound of tapping as if -in answer, but very softly; and I, feigning sleep, breathed heavily, -but turned my eyes towards her. Now a lamp was burning in the house, -but it was turned low, for the kerosene was nearly dry, and I had no -shillings. She seemed to be asleep, but when the tapping sounded again -I saw the screen shake, for she had her left arm extended beneath it, -and was tapping on the mat with the ends of her fingers. Then I lay -very still to see what would happen, and presently she rose softly and -crawled out of the screen to the fireplace as if to light her <i>suluka</i> -from the embers. After a little she went softly to the door and out; -and I, fearing some evil, rose and went swiftly out by another door, -taking my clearing-knife from the leaves as I passed. The moon shone -brightly. And as I looked from the corner of the house I saw Lusiana, -my wife, standing in the shadow of the bread-fruit with a man, who -spoke earnestly to her as if to draw her away. Then my blood flowed -down in my body, and I came upon them suddenly, and the man fled, but -I knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> him in the moonlight for Airsai the village constable. But the -woman stood and looked at the ground. And I said, ‘Who is that man? -Is this your habit when I am lying asleep?’ But she looked always at -the ground, and would not answer. Then my anger increased, and I said, -‘Answer me, answer, you light woman!’ But she still was silent. Then I -took her by the hand to lead her to the house—I swear to you that I -only meant to lead her to the house,—but she resisted me, and tried -to draw away her hand from mine. Then I let her go, and great rage -entered into me. ‘Will you neither speak nor come with me?’ I shouted. -But the woman stood with her back to me, still looking at the ground. -And a great strength came upon me, and the knife in my hand became -lighter than a reed, and I swung it once in the air, making it hiss, -and crying, ‘Speak, woman!’ Then I struck—and her head being bowed, -I struck the neck at the back where it looked red in the moonlight -that shone between the bread-fruit leaves. The knife paused not, but -shore through all, for it was a mighty blow; and the head rolled to -the foot of the tree, turning the sand black, and the body sank down -where it stood, and struck my knees, spurting blood. Thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> my <i>sulu</i> -and my legs and feet were all wet. Then I cried for the others to come -and see what I had done, and they all came running: first the women, -chattering like parrots at sunset, then the men and children, and last -of all the village policeman, Airsai. And they took the knife from me, -and one brought a clean sulu and put it on me, taking mine to show to -the courts; and they went with me to the river to wash the blood from -my legs. But when they would ask me questions, I said, ‘Peace! I slew -Lusiana. Bind me.’ So they bound my hands with sinnet, and brought me -hither, not resisting, for the woman deserved to die.”</p> - -<p>“Is that all, Leone?”</p> - -<p>“That is all. But one thing is clear, that I cannot escape the law.”</p> - -<p>“Nay! Take rest for your mind, Leone. I know a foreigner in the town—a -<i>loya</i>—who is skilled in the law, being wont to dispute in the -courts. Of late few have paid him money to dispute, and he is hungry -for money—for foreigners eat money as we eat yams. For him, skilled -as I have said, it will be easy to darken the truth of this thing so -that the judge cannot find it, and will doubt whether it was Airsai<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> -who slew the woman, or you, or whether she slew herself, or whether, -indeed, she was slain at all. Such things has he done for others, and -this he will do for you too, if you but pay him sufficient money before -the trial.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> - -<h2>RALUVE.</h2> - -<p>Vere did not tell me the story himself. He does not talk about his -past; but squalid as his life is, he cannot help looking like a man -with a history, albeit unkempt and half-starved in the struggle to -keep his half-caste brats from want. Hoskins, the father of district -magistrates, is my authority. He saw no pathos in it, only thought it -“an awful pity”; but years of tinned provisions are apt to dull the -sense of poetry in any man.</p> - -<p>Vere was the usual kind of younger son who leaves a public school with -more knowledge of field-sports than Latin, and having passed the limit -of age for the army, straightway joins the hosts of unemployed whose -ultimate refuge is the States or the Colonies. Unlike most of the young -gentlemen who graduate at an army crammer’s, Vere had no vices, and -when his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> turn came to tackle station-life in Australia, he found no -temptation to take the usual downward plunge, but hated the life with -all his heart. His letters home brought him unexpected relief. The -Colonial Office was asked to find a few young men to recruit the Civil -Service of a South Sea colony, and Vere, in common with half-a-dozen -others, was appointed, through the medium of a friendly chief clerk.</p> - -<p>He was kept at headquarters just long enough to wear off the novelty, -and to wonder why English-speaking mankind, especially when they -hail from Australia, succeed so wonderfully in stamping out all that -is picturesque from their surroundings; and then he was sent to -Commissioner Austin to be instructed in the mysteries of the native -language and customs, until such time as he should be fit for the -responsibilities of a Commissioner himself. Now Mr Commissioner Austin -was not a gentleman to be entrusted with the care of youth, and to -do him justice, he was the last person in the world to desire such -a responsibility. The Government had taken him over with the other -fixtures of a former <i>régime</i>, and if he had any belongings for whom -he ever cared, he had long ago forgotten them. In his own province the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>Commissioner was a very great man indeed—that is to say, the natives -grunted at him when he passed, clapped their hands after touching -his, and generally left his presence smacking that part of the human -frame that is held in least esteem. But the law of the honour paid to -prophets is reversed in the islands, and the Commissioner found that -his importance in the social scheme sensibly diminished with every mile -from the boundaries of his district, and had therefore allowed his -visits to the capital to become very rare. Vere found the great man -affable and not inhospitable. “You will stay with me until you can make -your own arrangements,” he said; and Vere, not caring to prolong his -visit upon such terms, though he had nothing with him but his clothes, -lost no time in invoking the good offices of a friendly storekeeper. -With his help he found himself in a few days established in a small -native house, belonging to a petty chief, without a stick of furniture -but the mats that belonged to his landlord, and a mosquito-screen. He -wanted nothing more. The mats, with dried grass under them, were soft -enough to sleep on, and the floor was cooler and more comfortable than -any chair. For the first few days he attended the office regularly in -the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>hope of finding work to do, but his chief never seemed to want -him. “No, thanks, Mr Vere, not to-day. This work would be a little -beyond you. Perhaps you could not do better than work at the language.” -Vere realised later on that the Commissioner had the best of reasons -for not finding work for him. He had not enough for himself. There were -no coolies in his district, and the native magistrates disposed of -the court work. So Vere worked at the language in the only effective -way—that is, he spent day after day with his landlord’s family fishing -from a canoe, diving for <i>figota</i>, and drinking <i>yangona</i>. He bathed in -a stream a few yards from his hut, and had his meals with his native -landlord or with a neighbouring storekeeper. The life was too new to be -monotonous.</p> - -<p>One night as he was dropping off to sleep on his mats, tired out with -doing nothing all day, he heard the distant note of a conch-shell -mingled with the eternal murmur of the reef. “Turtle-fishers returning -with a big bag,” he thought, trying to remember what natives blow -conch-shells for, and turned over on the other side. But presently -distant voices, as of people aroused and hurrying, awoke the lazy -curiosity of one bound to study native customs. A light breeze from -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>the sea was rustling the great palm-leaves like heavy curtains, and -though the moon had set, the stars gave light enough to show the dim -outline of the rocky island near the anchorage. A light was creeping -in towards the beach, and he could just make out the huge triangular -sail of a double canoe. Then a hoarse voice from the canoe shouted to -the people who were assembling on the beach. Immediately, with a deep -exclamation, the babble of voices ceased, and every figure squatted as -if by word of command. Two or three men ran off into the village, and -Vere drew near the group in the hope of finding some one to explain the -situation. He soon found his landlord, who, in pidgin English, told -him that the dusky potentate who had despoiled the district for many -years had gone to his own place, and that his son reigned in his stead, -and had come to receive their homage. The men who had run to the town -came back with whale’s teeth, and as the canoe grated on the coral sand -the grey-headed village chief squatted with his feet in the sea, and -gave the deep grunt of respect, and delivered in low voice a rapid and -unintelligible harangue. The crew sprang into the water, and standing -waist-deep, dragged the canoe through the yielding sand until her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>prow -rested above the dry beach, and the old man, still squatting, gave -the whale’s teeth, hanging in a bunch, to the new-comers. A fire of -dead palm-leaves threw a red glare upon the brown faces and glistening -bodies of the strangers as they disembarked. A tall young man, -evidently the new chief, was the first. He was followed by a number -of men and women, who stood aside to wait for another woman who now -rose from the little thatched house on the deck. From her bearing, and -the respect paid to her, Vere saw she was to be classed far above any -he had yet seen. The chief seemed to ask in a whisper who the strange -white man was, and learning probably that he was a Government officer, -stopped to shake hands with him. The girl stopped too, and looked at -Vere as if expecting to be spoken to; but before he could take her -hand, she hurried off after the others. They were followed by the whole -village into the deep shadow of the palms, and Vere was left alone with -the dying fire to watch the crew of the canoe making her snug for the -night.</p> - -<p>Vere heard all about the new arrivals next day. Of Nambuto he had heard -before, a good deal that was discreditable, as is natural and proper -to a young leader <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>of the people. The girl was all that an epidemic of -measles had left of a line of chiefs beside whom the present rulers of -the district were <i>parvenus</i>. Weakened by the ravages of the disease -that had thinned out his fighting men, her father had succumbed to the -chief who was just dead, and both conquerors and conquered had agreed -that <i>Andi</i> Raluve should heal the hereditary quarrel by marrying -Nambuto, the eldest son of the victor. It was a tribal matter, and in -tribal matters women have no voice, least of all when they are of rank.</p> - -<p>The villagers seemed to take their loss with much philosophy. They -cut their hair and beards, it is true, and there was a run on black -cashmere in the nearest store, but they wasted no time in vain regrets -for one whose lightest word a week ago they would have tremblingly -obeyed. They devoted all their energies instead to the entertainment of -the living. Long-nosed slab-sided pigs were dragged by the hind-legs -to the ovens, protesting indignantly, until a few dull thuds clearly -explained the situation to them; and Vere’s friends chopped wood, -butchered, and cooked under a dense cloud of flies as if their lives -depended on their activity. Vere, driven to walk by himself, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>was -idling about near the sea, thinking how a native canoe, improved on, -would be an ideal sailing craft, when he came suddenly upon a figure -sitting under a great <i>dilo</i>-tree, bent almost double, and shaking -with convulsive sobs. Now the natives of these islands are not given -to displaying whatever emotions they have, and seeing that the figure -was a woman’s, all his English chivalry was startled into life; so, -forgetting that she could not understand him, he stooped down, saying, -“What is the matter? Can’t I do anything for you?” In the tear-stained -face that looked up he recognised Raluve, the lady of the previous -night, her big black eyes round with surprise. Reassured by his evident -concern, she gave him rapidly and in a low voice what might have been -an explanation of her distress, but as it was in her own dialect, he -understood not one word of it. With a desperate effort he plunged into -Fijian. “If you are in trouble I will help you,” is not a difficult nor -complicated sentence in any language. He attempted it, and the result -exceeded his expectations, for the girl struggled a moment, and then -burst into ringing peals of laughter. Evidently he had used the wrong -word, and this girl’s manners were no better than any other savage’s. -But she got up as he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>began to move off, and before they reached the -village she had promised to teach him her language.</p> - -<p>Next morning he received a visit of ceremony. His door was darkened, -there was a whispering and a rustling outside, and then Raluve came in, -shyly followed by two attendants of discreet age and mature charms. -She sank gracefully on the mats, doubling her feet under her, and the -matrons giggled. There was a constrained pause. Clearly this girl could -not be amused by the exhibition of a cunningly devised knife or an -alarum-clock. Desperately he fell back on photographs. Raluve took each -one, looked at it indifferently, and handed it to the nearest duenna, -who, being skittish, gazed at it upside down, and poked her companion -in the ribs, chuckling immoderately. But the photographs required -explanations, and then the lesson began in earnest; for every remark -Vere hazarded was first severely corrected, and then criticised by the -two frolicsome dames, with vast amusement to themselves. The system of -education was primitive, but it satisfied both pupil and mistresses.</p> - -<div class="center" id="i076.jpg"><img src="images/i076.jpg" alt="And then Raluve came in" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>And then Raluve came in, shyly followed by two -attendants of discreet age and mature charms.</i>”</p> - -<p>If her chaperones were flighty, Raluve showed by contrast a deportment -austerely correct. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> by nature and training an aristocrat—well -versed in the traditions of her race, which included the belief in -a natural gulf fixed between her own and the lower orders, and a -vast contempt for the vulgarity of gush. She had been educated on a -mission station, where she learned to take an intelligent interest in -something beyond getting up linen, and the latest scandal. Now reserve, -intelligence, and the manners of a lady are so rare a combination in -a native, that the callow Vere began to fill up the blanks in her -character in his own way, and to miss the lessons on the days she -failed to come, more than he cared to confess to himself. Not many -men can use the eyes God gave them without enlarging or belittling, -unless they have the loan of others’ eyes to correct their vision by. -Some do indeed succeed in viewing life through the wrong end of the -telescope, and in enjoying it hugely; but the majority unscrew the lens -and gaze on a new world—rocky mountains made of dust-specks, trodden -by ants as elephants. Vere, the solitary, was beginning to idealise the -natives, and it is all up with the man who does that, since, for some -occult reason, it is in the feminine side of the race that the finer -qualities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> are discovered. He was startled to find out for himself -that this brown-skinned girl thought and spoke much in the same way as -did girls with white skins, with the only difference that she was more -natural and <i>naïve</i>. He found himself confiding his worries past and -present to her, and asking her advice. He liked her ready sympathy, and -her healthy good sense, and her sense of humour amused him; and when, -after three weeks of almost daily companionship, he heard it hinted -that she would soon leave the island, he knew that she had become a -companion whom he would miss very much indeed.</p> - -<p>During these three weeks Nambuto, after the manner of his kind, had -been eating up the land, and he was in no hurry to go away. But a time -comes when the slaughter of pigs and fowls has an end, and at the -village meeting the <i>mata-ni-vanua</i>, whose duty it was to apportion -each man’s contribution to the daily feast, pointed out that that time -had arrived. Besides a couple of elderly sows, on whom their hopes of -a future herd were centred, nothing remained to kill. An intimation -must be conveyed to their haughty guest. Now it is a fine thing to be a -chief in these happy isles. Rank and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> riches in civilised communities -entail responsibilities. We are even told on high authority that the -rich are as unlikely to enjoy happiness in this life, as they are -certain to lose it in the next, which, to say the least of it, would be -rather hard upon the well-to-do if they had not the remedy in their own -hands. But a chief in these islands enjoys not only his own wealth, but -his subjects’ besides, and has neither responsibility nor that product -of civilisation called a conscience to trouble him. He does not sleep -less soundly for fear the crushed worm may turn. The crushing was done -too effectually for that some generations ago.</p> - -<p>Nambuto wore his new responsibilities lightly. They seemed to consist -chiefly in consuming the food brought to him by his uncomplaining and -despised hosts, who, if they ever came as visitors to his island, -would be kept from starvation by his vassals. But comfortable though -he was, his visit had to be curtailed owing to the natural difficulty -in reanimating pigs and fowls that have been cooked and eaten. The -morning’s presentation of food had been meagre, and the excuse that the -land was in famine was conveyed to Nambuto’s household. There was no -help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> for it. The great canoe was unburied from the pile of leaves that -had sheltered it from the burning sun, and hauled down to the water’s -edge; the great mat sail was spread upon the sand, while deft fingers -replaced the broken threads with new sinnet; and the word went forth -that she would put to sea when next the wind was fair.</p> - -<p>Raluve came earlier than usual that morning, and, to Vere’s surprise, -alone. She walked straight up to the chair where he was sitting, and -said, “I have come to take leave.”</p> - -<p>“Why, where are you going to?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“To our land. And I must take leave quickly, lest they be angry with me -for coming.”</p> - -<p>She spoke hurriedly—almost roughly—and held out her hand with averted -face. Vere sprang to his feet, and slammed the door of his hut.</p> - -<p>“You can’t go like this, Raluve, until I know all about it. Why didn’t -you tell me yesterday?”</p> - -<p>“It is Nambuto’s decision. I have only just been told. But the canoe is -all prepared, and they will sail to-day, for the wind is fair.”</p> - -<p>Vere felt bitterly disappointed. He had almost forgotten that her -mind, like the colour of her skin, must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> be different from his. He had -taken her seriously, and made a chum of her, and here she was going -back to her own people without a word of regret. He now remembered how -one-sided their intimacy had been. She had listened patiently to all -his confidences, but had told him nothing about herself in return. -Well, it had been a pleasant dream, and of course it was common-sense -that the awakening must come. What could he, an educated Englishman, -have to do with her, the future wife of a savage? This was not even to -be his adopted country. Of course he must say good-bye to her, and let -his dream fade into the squalid reality of his life. But he felt angry -with himself and her.</p> - -<p>“Why should they be angry with you?” he asked indifferently, as he put -out his hand.</p> - -<p>“Because my people are like beasts,” she answered indignantly, “and -there have been many words about us, and Nambuto is angry, and has -spoken evil to me. Look! I will hide nothing from you.” And then -she told him her whole story, lapsing into her own dialect in her -excitement, so that he could not follow her: how she had been betrothed -to Nambuto against her will; how Vere was the only friend she had ever -had, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> men of her nation knew not what friendship with a woman -could be; how she would now have to go with them, and be insulted by -them all, with none to protect her, or be her friend.</p> - -<p>“<i>Isa</i>,” she cried, “you are a white man, and know everything, and I am -a black woman and ignorant: tell me of some medicine, that I may drink -and die! I cannot bear my life.”</p> - -<p>Then all Vere’s better qualities rose to drag him down. All the -chivalry in him was stirred. He was not going to see this girl bullied, -and on his account. Whatever the consequences might be, he must protect -her. A worse man would have wisely reflected that native customs are -best left alone, and that, after all, the prospect painted by Raluve -was not so very terrible—for a native woman. But prudence does not -wed with youth, and to Vere, who had already begun to lose the sense -of proportion, her fate seemed horrible. The average man needs one -month in the great world for every five in the islands to correct his -perspective, and to realise the utter insignificance of himself and -his surroundings, otherwise he will infallibly come to believe that it -matters whether or not the coral foundations of the islands crumble -away, and the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> colony, executive machinery and all, go to the -bottom of the Pacific in the next hurricane.</p> - -<p>Vere’s fluency astonished himself. He found the words without looking -for them. The figure at his feet on the mats was so limp and helpless, -so hard to reassure by comforting words, that he threw aside all -caution in his promises. So they sat on till the pattern of the -sunlight through the reed walls crept across the floor-mats, and began -to climb the opposite wall, dyeing Raluve’s bowed head with red gold -streaks. Suddenly they heard a woman’s voice in the road calling her -name, and in another moment one of her women looked in at the door -breathless, saying, “I am dead of looking for you. The chief sent me. -We sail to-morrow, and it is his word that you come at once.”</p> - -<p>Raluve looked at Vere appealingly. “There will be much anger shown to -me,” she said; “how shall it be? Am I to go?”</p> - -<p>We never know the turning-points in our lives at the time; and so Vere, -following that which supplies healthy-minded men with a substitute for -a conscience, his own inclination—said, “Do not go. If they are angry -come to me.”</p> - -<p>When she had gone and the light had faded, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> began to feel very -uncomfortable. He had encouraged her in resisting her own people, and -he was, after all, quite powerless to prevent them from ill-treating -her. Ugly stories crossed his mind of the doings of the old heathen -days, of the outrage and torture inflicted even on women when they -resisted the chiefs. Perhaps even at that very moment the storm was -breaking on her. The suspense was becoming unbearable when he heard a -smothered cough at the door. In the dim light a woman pushed a crumpled -note into his hand and vanished into the darkness. It was Raluve’s -first letter to him. The writing was in pencil, childish but clear, for -Raluve had been taught by the missionary’s wife.</p> - -<p>“I am most pitiable,” she wrote. “Nambuto has spoken evil of me before -our people and the people of this place, and I am despised. But this is -nothing, for they sail to-morrow. Only I fear lest they do something to -me by force, and I go to hide in the forest. I will come back when they -return. And another thing, Nambuto spoke evil of you also. I send my -love to you.—R.”</p> - -<div class="center" id="i084.jpg"><img src="images/i084.jpg" alt="The canoe was afloat" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>The canoe was afloat, and laden with such of the -low-borns’ household gods as their aristocratic visitors thought worth -taking away.</i>”</p> - -<p>Next morning there was a hue and cry. The canoe was afloat, and laden -with such of the low-borns’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> household gods as their aristocratic -visitors thought worth taking away. The mat-sail was bent, and ready -to be hoisted, but Raluve was nowhere to be found. The palm-groves -around the village resounded with her name, and four of the crew of -the canoe even went so far as to stand shouting her name in front of -Vere’s house. This was hard to bear. Then one of them struck up in -a sing-song tone an extempore verse, which the rest received with a -burst of coarse laughter. This too was very hard to bear. Then another -cried, “Lady Raluve, are there not white men in our own land?” And this -being too hard to be borne, the wit saw the flash of white clothes, and -found himself dazed upon his back in the grass, with the sensation of -having had his face crushed in, while his three companions were in full -flight up the read. And Vere returned to his hut relieved in feelings, -but with a curious sense of having been degraded to a lower rank of -humanity where he stood upon the same level with half-naked savages -who wrangle and fight over their women. Two hours later, his fat -good-natured landlord, passing his door, volunteered the information -that the canoe had sailed. Being a wise man, he said nothing about the -missing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> girl, the great topic of village scandal, and thereby earned -Vere’s confidence.</p> - -<p>Now it is not to be supposed that Raluve could escape from annoyance -with the departure of her people. These happy isles are no more free -from the love of scandal than is civilised Europe. A people endowed -with the love of social converse, and without any legitimate object -for discussion, naturally falls back upon the topics most dear to the -frequenters of small European watering-places. Such a prize as the -reputation of a chief woman, hitherto unsmutched, to tear to pieces, -would not glut the carrion-crows of this small district for many weeks. -And with the knowledge that Raluve had earned her chief’s displeasure, -all respect for her rank vanished; for they shared with a certain class -of society journal the gloating triumph that only rank and character -tottering from its pedestal can properly awaken. So when Raluve quietly -returned to the village to take up her abode with the chief’s wife, she -found that it would need all her strength to live the scandal down. -Deeply wounded as she was to find that by her own act she had earned -the scorn of a people she had been trained to despise, her courage soon -returned to her, and she gave back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> scorn for scorn. But she lived -on with her one friend, the village chief’s wife, a woman of her own -island and her own clan; and as the days passed, and the scandal became -stale, she began to take her proper place among them.</p> - -<p>Vere was not allowed to escape scathless. The village scandal had -of course leaked out among the few Europeans of the place, and as -they were precluded from comparing notes with one another, not being -on speaking terms for the most part, each one supplied the details -according to the richness of his individual fancy. The principal -storekeeper’s wife told her daughter that he was an unprincipled young -man; and the damsel, having heard all the details from her native -<i>confidante</i>, who did the family washing, examined Vere as he passed -with redoubled interest. The missionary bowed coldly, and his wife -cut him dead. But, worst of all, Commissioner Austin felt it his duty -to have his say in a stammering speech, which began, “I don’t pretend -to be a particularly moral man myself, but——” and got no further, -because Vere, who knew very well what was coming, was short in the -temper, and replied with heat, “Mr Austin, I am a <i>very</i> moral man, and -I always mind my own business,” which, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> a rejoinder, was coarse and -unwarrantable, and offended his well-meaning chief past redemption. He -felt very sore and angry with the world that chose to regard what he -felt to be the fruit of his nobler self as a mere boyish escapade, and -he hardened his heart into a defiant resolve to keep his promise to -Raluve, and let the world say what it pleased. Probably if the world -had left them alone, or if either of them had been a coward, Vere would -not have become—well, what he now is.</p> - -<p>The next six weeks taught Vere some new things. He learned, for -instance, that a brown-skinned girl has much the same kind of heart -inside her as her white sisters; that, when in love, she will say -and do all that has been said or done by a highly civilised woman, -save only that she is more simple, and less tamed by conventionality; -that love counts no cost, and asks only to be free from artificial -restraint, and utterly careless of the future. His life for the past -six weeks had been like some perfect dream that fears no awakening. -Memories of home, the throb of the great world, the ambitions of his -boyhood, touched him like the murmur in the ears of one who, standing -in some silent wood, seems to hear the roar of the city he has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> just -left. How often in a lifetime can any of us pause and say, “This -is perfect; I ask for nothing more”? We can no doubt remember many -perfect moments in our lives, because we have forgotten the little -vexations,—that we had the toothache, and our account was overdrawn; -for it is the petty worries and the cares of civilised life that -prevent our happy moments from being quite perfect. The <i>tempo felice</i> -was never quite so happy as we think, nor the <i>miseria</i> quite so -wretched. But Vere’s life was happy enough to be worth paying for. -He had met Raluve every day, and had come to look on life as quite -impossible without her. Sometimes they had met at a trysting-place of -Raluve’s choosing in the forest, where a great <i>tavola</i>-tree barred -the entrance into a narrow gorge in the hills. Sometimes they had -wandered on moonlight nights along the sandy beach; and once Raluve had -plunged, laughing, into the warm sea, daring him to follow her, and had -swam to the little islet that lay a few hundred yards from the shore. -But once, as they sat talking beneath the <i>tavola</i>-tree, Raluve had -clutched his arm, listening to some distant sound, and a few moments -later a man had crashed through the underwood and stopped a few yards -from the tree, hidden from them by the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> trunk. Then Vere prepared -himself for battle, but the intruder crashed off again in another -direction. Thereafter Raluve declared their trysting-tree unsafe, and -the island became their regular place of meeting. There had once been -a house on the point, but nothing was left to mark the spot but a -number of oleander-trees, and a patch of couch-grass which the sheep -had trimmed down. Here at least they were safe from intrusion, for they -could see any boat upon the starlit strait that divided them from the -shore long before it could land. And to make their safety surer, they -swam off independently after night had fallen. Vere told the girl the -story of Hero and Leander, and she thereafter would laughingly wave a -smouldering branch among the oleanders as a signal to Vere to bind his -clothes on his head and swim across to her.</p> - -<p>But the awakening came at last. One morning a cutter anchored bringing -the mails from headquarters. Besides his usual home letters, there was -an oblong official envelope addressed to him. The letter was short. -Somebody had the honour to request that he would report himself at -headquarters at his earliest convenience, with the view of taking -up an appointment as magistrate of another district. So here was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -his promotion before he expected it. Three months ago it would have -delighted him, now it seemed the worst misfortune that could befall -him. To leave this place meant giving up Raluve, for it was out of the -question that she could go with him, unless he caused a scandal that -would cost him his appointment. And yet what prevented him from shaping -his life as he chose? He had only desired promotion to shorten the time -of his exile, and life with Raluve was no longer like exile, for he had -eaten of the lotus, and the smell of the reef had entered into his soul.</p> - -<p>Never did the sea seem so cold, nor the island so distant, as on that -night. A light rain was falling, and the smell of the oleander-flowers -was carried to Vere by the light wind as he swam; and while he waded -ashore shivering, Raluve came out from the shadows to meet him.</p> - -<p>“E Kalokalo, I am dead with waiting. I waved my brand, but you did not -see it, and now it has gone out. And I began to fear, thinking of the -woman you told me of, who saw her lover’s dead body washed up at her -feet.”</p> - -<p>“Am I late? I was reading letters that the cutter brought—letters from -<i>papalangi</i>.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - -<p>“From your own people? E Kalokalo, you have never told me of them. Some -day they will make you throw me aside, and you will take a <i>marama</i> of -your own land to wife.”</p> - -<p>“What is this foolishness, Raluve? Who has put foolish words into your -mouth?”</p> - -<p>“I thought they were foolish words, but now I know they are true. -Alika——”</p> - -<p>“Alika is a foolish old woman. What did she tell you?”</p> - -<p>“She said, ‘Raluve, this white man loves you. You are fortunate, for -the white men love better than our men; but for all that he will leave -you, and return to his own people, taking one of them in marriage.’ And -when I grew angry she said, ‘Did Kaiatia keep Lui, the German, though -she bore him two children? And why does Alisi go about Lakeba like a -hen with half her feathers plucked out?’ Then I knew that her words -were true; for Lui has a white woman for wife now, and Alisi was beaten -by her people because of Tomu, the trader, and he left her, saying he -would return, and did not. And one day you will leave <i>me</i>, Kalokalo.”</p> - -<p>Vere said nothing, feeling her eyes upon him in the dim light. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But I will know whether it shall be so,” she went on. “Sit down: no, -not there on the grass, but on the sand. Now see,” she said, taking up -an empty cocoa-nut shell, “when I spin this cup it shall fall toward -one of us. If it falls toward you, then you will leave me, and marry -one of your people; and if it fall toward me—— See, it spins. <i>Mana -dina!</i> Ah, faithless one, it topples like Kata, the kava-drinker!”</p> - -<p>The shell reeled, lurched, and fell toward the girl, rolling away on -its side from between them. Raluve’s hands fell to her side.</p> - -<p>“Nay; but the shell spoke the truth,” said Vere, laughing.</p> - -<p>But the girl had become serious.</p> - -<p>“It is a heathen game, and we ought not to have done it, therefore it -lied. And if you doubt that it lied, I will take a Bible to-morrow, and -swear that I will never leave you. Then if I swear falsely, I shall die -as Ana did, when she swore she did not burn down Finau’s house. But you -will leave me, and it is right; for you are my chief, and I am a black -woman, and I could not bear that you should be despised by your people -because of me. What is she like, Kalokalo?”</p> - -<p>“Who?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The woman you will marry. She must be a great lady like the Governor’s -wife, not like the <i>maramas</i> of Levuka, who are angry, and have harsh -voices. I hate them: but you would never take one of them?”</p> - -<p>“And what would you do if I married, Raluve?”</p> - -<p>“I would be your wife’s servant if she would let me; but if you left me -for one of my own people——” She caught her breath, and half-started -up. He thought she was excited by her own speech, but her face was -set, and her body tense. She was listening. “Somebody is coming,” she -whispered. Vere strained his ears, but could hear nothing but the faint -hiss of the sand as the tiny waves sucked it back.</p> - -<p>“I hear nothing,” he said.</p> - -<p>She put her hand on his mouth, and rose upon her knees, looking -seawards. After some seconds she stooped.</p> - -<p>“There are no other double canoes but Nambuto’s. I can hear the <i>sua</i>, -four of them, therefore it is a double canoe. They are sculling against -the wind, and may land here. Come, let us swim across.”</p> - -<p>But while Vere still hesitated, scarcely believing her, the quiet air -was pierced by the deep note of a conch-shell from the sea. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is Nambuto,” she said, excitedly. “<i>Vonu?</i> No, they do not blow -like that for <i>vonu</i>” (turtle).</p> - -<p>It was too late to think of swimming ashore. In another moment the -beach would be alive with men. Raluve drew Vere back into the shadow -of the oleanders, and made him lie down lest his white face should be -seen. He could see her crouching at the edge of the sand. Gradually -he began to distinguish a dull rhythmical beat, and the girl drew -back into the shadow. The sound grew louder, and then he saw a dark -mass emerging from the night, which took the shape of a great canoe, -creeping inshore against the light land-breeze which had just sprung -up. It glided on noiselessly, save for the rhythmical blow of the <i>sua</i> -as they rocked from side to side in the sockets, while the figures of -the four scullers stood out in sharp <i>silhouette</i> against the sky-line. -It passed so close to the point of the island that Vere could have -thrown a biscuit on to the deck, and could hear every word spoken by -those on board. When it had passed on to the beach, Vere realised how -great had been the strain to Raluve.</p> - -<p>“Nambuto is there; I heard his voice. What shall I do?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>It seemed a small matter to Vere whether Nambuto came back or not. He -could not realise that this girl by his side, who thought and spoke so -rationally, was still one of her own people, bound to fear what they -feared, and to respect the customs that had become stronger than law to -them. That she, an affianced chief woman, should prefer a white man to -a man of her own race, was as great a social crime as it would be were -a countrywoman of ours to tolerate an Indian rajah.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the party had landed from the canoe, and the voices on the -beach were silent. Raluve thought she had heard her name called in -the direction of Vere’s house; but they waited until the cocks had -crowed in the village, and a few sleepy birds had begun twittering in -the trees on the island. It was the safest hour for their return: the -natives, roused in the night, would sleep late that morning. Still -Raluve feared to take a direct course to the shore, and, calling to -Vere to follow her, waded through the shallow water and struck out, -steering a diagonal course towards the shore opposite Vere’s house. -The water was brilliantly phosphorescent, and her body seemed to be -clothed in polished silver as she swam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> Every stroke of her arms and -feet scattered a shower of diamonds that flashed a moment and vanished -in the black water; and from before her hundreds of fish, taking her -for an enemy, shot away, leaving a dull train of fire behind them like -shooting-stars in a dark sky. It was a long swim, for it was high tide; -but as they waded ashore, tired and out of breath, the beach seemed -deserted. There was only the dark shelter of the trees to be gained, -and they were safe. They stopped a moment on the sand to put on the -clothes they had tied round their heads, and then hurried up towards -the trees. But before they reached them there was a shout from the bush -just in front of them, answered by two voices further off in different -directions.</p> - -<p>“They have seen us,” said Raluve, hurriedly. “Run away, Kalokalo. I -will wait for them here.”</p> - -<p>But Vere had no idea of running away, and stood his ground by her side. -There was the sound of a man crashing through the bushes, and a native -ran into the open and stood before them. It was Nambuto.</p> - -<p>There was silence for some moments. Raluve stood facing him with -heaving breast, while Vere clenched his fists, and drew nearer to -her. The chief broke the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> silence with the most insulting word in his -language. Vere did not understand the word, but the man’s tone and -Raluve’s passionate indignation were enough for him.</p> - -<p>“You scoundrel!” he cried in English from between his set teeth; “how -dare you speak to her like that?”</p> - -<p>Nambuto, expecting a blow, put up both hands to defend his face, and -Vere, mistaking the gesture in the dim light, thought he was about to -strike him. In a moment Nambuto was reeling backwards, stunned with a -heavy blow between the eyes, and as he fell he shouted a few words at -the top of his voice.</p> - -<p>“Run, Raluve, and hide yourself,” cried Vere.</p> - -<p>“Come with me,” she answered; “he has called his men, and they will -kill you.”</p> - -<p>She tried to drag him into the trees, for they could hear voices and -the crashing of the undergrowth, as Nambuto’s men ran in the direction -of their chief’s voice.</p> - -<p>“Run and hide yourself,” cried Vere again, excitedly pushing her into -the shadow of the trees. He had just time to reach the trunk of a great -<i>dilo</i>-tree, and put his back against it, when five men ran out on to -the beach where Nambuto sat rubbing his eyes as if stupefied. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Seize the white man!—he has struck me,” he cried.</p> - -<p>They came upon Vere cautiously, for he was a formidable object for -unarmed natives to tackle. “Quick, a stick,” cried one, and ran to pick -up a rough worm-eaten piece of drift-wood. He dodged the first blow -and knocked down one of them, who tried to run in under his guard, but -the second blow struck his shoulder, and he fell. Before he could rise -they were upon him, trampling and stamping the breath out of his body. -But help was near. Raluve had run to the nearest house, and it was that -of Vere’s landlord and particular friend. But she outstripped him, and -was among Vere’s assailants, raging like a tigress, long before he came -up. It is no easy matter to quiet savages when their blood is once up; -but her prestige among them was still great, and one after another -they slunk off before her indignant flow of invective. She was almost -terrible in her anger, as a woman can only be when she is defending -some one she loves.</p> - -<p>I once saw a woman, meek, cowed, and dispirited with the years of -slavery called marriage among these people, divorced from her husband, -who beat her. She did not seem to have a soul above her yam-patch, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> -could she be stirred to a show of interest by the announcement of her -freedom. Her child, an ill-favoured brat, eruptive with sores, sat by -her side, and when she heard that it was to be taken from her, even -that woman became terrible in her indignation.</p> - -<p>Raluve’s anger all changed to the most perfect tenderness as she -helped her companion to lift Vere, all bruised and stunned, and carry -him to his own house. Once there she would not leave him, but sat -fanning him far into the day, without thinking of hunger or thirst, -until a friendly storekeeper, who had heard of the disturbance, came -to see him. No bones were broken. There were some bad bruises, and an -unsightly black eye. But as any movement gave him intense pain, he -wisely lay still, and slept away the greater part of the day, while -Raluve sat fanning him. Late in the afternoon a burly form filled the -doorway. Mr Commissioner Austin was, sorely against his will, come -to do his duty. He began by suggesting that Raluve should withdraw, -but she would not go farther than the end of the house. Was Vere much -hurt? No. Well, he was glad to hear it. He was awfully sorry about the -whole business. These wretched connections always ended alike, because -they brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Europeans down to the level of natives. But it would be -a lesson to Vere, who would take what he had to say in good part. But -Vere did not take it in good part at all, and told him so. He had some -news, however. The vessel in which Vere was to leave for headquarters -was to sail in a day or two, and Nambuto had been ordered to go before -the end of the week.</p> - -<p>Left to himself, Vere had ample time to consider his position. This -girl loved him,—there was no doubt in his mind about that. What did -he feel for her in return—gratitude, the vanity kindled by unsought -love, or something stronger than either? And if he could drop back into -the life she lived, the life man was intended to live, free from all -the vulgar struggle and squalor of civilisation, in some island to the -eastward, far from his own kind, where the smell of the reef and the -warm wind would possess his senses, he would surely ask for nothing -more. But there was a reverse to the picture. If it were to mean the -life that some white men, who had abjured civilisation, lived, despised -alike by their fellows and the people they consorted with, he could -see nothing but misery before them both. He tried to remember a single -case where the marriage of a white man to a native woman had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> turned -out happily. There was Bonson, an educated man like himself. One could -read the man’s history in his face. All self-respect was crushed out of -him now, but how he must have suffered for his mistake when it was too -late! No; a curse seemed to follow the union of opposite races: they -must put this folly out of their hearts, and each follow the destiny to -which they were born. But as he turned to speak to Raluve he met her -eyes fixed upon his face. She had crept up to his bed as he lay with -his face to the wall.</p> - -<p>“What is in your mind, Kalokalo, my star? I cannot bear your face to be -hidden from me, for then evil thoughts enter your mind, and your face -is changed towards me. Are you in pain?” she asked, laying her hand -gently on his forehead.</p> - -<p>“Raluve,” he said, taking her hand, “I was wondering how I shall fare -without you.”</p> - -<p>“But you are not going to leave me?” she said, catching her breath. “If -you go, I must go with you to take care of you.”</p> - -<p>“We do not plan our lives,” he answered; “it is ordered that I go from -here in three days.”</p> - -<p>Her hand dropped from his, and she sat quite still. He could hear her -breathing, but cowardice kept him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> from looking at her. The light waned -and the house became dark, but still she made no sign. At last he could -bear the silence no longer.</p> - -<p>“Speak, Raluve,” he said; “is it not better for us both that I should -go?”</p> - -<p>“For you it is better,” she answered in a low voice, “and therefore it -must be. But for me the darkness has fallen, and is eating me up.”</p> - -<p>What could he say more? The pain had to be borne, and he would only -make it worse by speaking. Then as he made no reply, she got up and -left the house without another word.</p> - -<p>Vere’s bruises did not trouble him long. In two days he was busied -about his packing, and on the morning the steamer was expected he was -ready for the voyage. He had not seen Raluve since he had told her -of his determination, and he had felt his courage too weak to risk -another interview like the last. But he could not leave her without -saying good-bye, and he had just made up his mind to find her when she -herself came in. She had brought a beautiful mat as a parting gift. -Disregarding all native ceremonial, she laid it down at his feet, -saying, “This is to be your sleeping-mat, and it will be my shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -with you, so that you may not forget me.” When he had thanked her, she -put out her hand abruptly, saying, “You are going: let us take leave of -one another here.”</p> - -<p>Vere had only to take the hand and let her go, but he had pictured to -himself quite another sort of leave-taking, and his vanity was wounded.</p> - -<p>“Are we to part as if we were at enmity, Raluve? Every one shakes -hands, therefore we must kiss each other: besides, I want to know what -you will do when I am gone.”</p> - -<p>The girl looked at him angrily. “It is nothing to you where I go when -you are gone. You are a white man, and I am a black woman. I amused -you, my chief, while you were here, and you will find another to amuse -you in the place to which you go.”</p> - -<p>“Raluve, are you angry with me?”</p> - -<p>“No. You are a white man, and white men always treat my people so.”</p> - -<p>“But think——”</p> - -<p>“Give me no more reasons. It is enough that I myself would not make you -despised of your own people. It is best that you should go.”</p> - -<p>“But what will you do?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I also will go away. The steamer will carry you far, but my canoe -shall bear me farther still,” and she laughed a hard little laugh. Then -she got up to go, and Vere dared not detain her. She did not respond -to his parting kiss, but left the house with averted face. What could -she have meant by her last words? He remembered with sickening dread -that he had heard of natives killing themselves for the most trivial -reasons. Men and women had climbed cocoa-nut-trees and flung themselves -down because their townsfolk ridiculed them, and Raluve, refined as -she was, had a native’s feelings underneath the surface. If she meant -this, the rest of his life would not be pleasant to him. And as he sat -pondering a sound caught his ear, and he ran to the door. There sat -Raluve trying in vain to stifle her passionate sobs. He tried to raise -her, and draw her back into the house, but she resisted, crying, “O -Kalokalo, I cannot leave you in anger, therefore kiss me, and let me -go; my love for you is hurting me.”</p> - -<p>She returned his kiss this time, and in a moment she had passed behind -the palm-stems.</p> - -<p>Two hours later Vere was shaking hands with his native friends on the -beach, hardly daring to look along the line of faces for fear that -Raluve might be among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> them. But she was not. He strained his eyes -from the steamer as she moved slowly out to distinguish the tall lithe -figure he knew so well. On the hill above the village was a great -boulder of black limestone, hurled from the topmost pinnacle of the -island in some old earthquake. As they steamed away he saw a movement -on the top of the rock. With his glasses he made out the figure of a -woman dressed in white, as Raluve had been that morning. She took off -her upper garment, waved it once above her head, and then flung it far -out towards the steamer. The wind caught and bore it sideways, but -before it had fluttered down among the tops of the palms the figure was -gone. It was Raluve’s farewell.</p> - -<p>Vere had plenty of leisure during the two days’ voyage to think -over the past. Till now he had been buoyed up by the sense of doing -that which was difficult and disagreeable, and therefore probably -right,—for his early training had imbued him with the idea that the -pleasant ways of life lead into the “broad road”; but now he began -to feel unaccountably ashamed of himself. If he had been to blame -for accepting the girl’s love, still, he thought complacently, the -wrench had been as great for him as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> for her. But argue as he would, -he felt that he was running away from a situation he did not dare to -face,—that he was betraying and deserting a woman. What was it that -she had said? “The steamer will carry you far, but my canoe shall -bear me farther still.” Why, if she had that sort of temptation in -her present state of nervous excitement, she would yield, of course. -What might she not be doing at this very moment while the engines -trampled on and put mile after mile between them? And he might save -her if he were there. Pulses began to beat in his brain, and he got up -and raced along the empty deck. Only a blue wavy line on the eastern -horizon remained of the island. As he looked at it, trying to picture -the village that lay beneath it, the memories of the last three weeks -rushed over him, with Raluve as the centre of each picture,—her -tenderness, her soft words, even the proud little pose of the head that -he had so often teased her about. It was a very perfect life while it -lasted. Then he began to remember words that he had said but forgotten -till now,—words that she must have taken as promises. Nay, but they -were promises, and he, an English gentleman, bound by <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>promises, was -coolly breaking them. With every throb of the propeller this feeling -became stronger, until he had persuaded himself that he was already -bound by the past, and was no longer master of his own actions. There -was a feeling of rest in having come to a determination, and his mind -recoiled from the idea of again reviewing the arguments that had led to -it step by step.</p> - -<p>The first action on landing was to write the best and most foolish -letter he had ever written, resigning his appointment, without offering -any explanation. Then he made terms with the skipper of a cutter that -sailed the same afternoon to carry him back. He went on board at once, -not daring to meet any one he knew lest awkward questions might be -asked.</p> - -<p>They had a head-wind all the way back, and Vere became ill with anxiety -and excitement during the four days’ voyage. At last the palm-groves -he had left a week ago were in sight, and he was straining his eyes in -trying to recognise Raluve’s figure among the crowd on the beach. She -was not there. He landed with a sense of sickening fear. Two or three -natives shook hands with him, but he dared not ask them the question he -longed to have answered. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> couple of storekeepers’ assistants were the -only white men on the beach. They stared at him in open astonishment, -and then explained his return in their own way with many grins and -nudges of the elbow. He hurried to his landlord’s house, knowing that -he would tell him the unvarnished truth without gloating over the -scandal. The daughter of the house was alone in the house mending a -net. Without waiting to account for his sudden appearance, he said, -“Where is Raluve?” The girl knew the story, and hesitated. “Tell me,” -he cried, angrily, “Am I a sick man that you fear to say the truth? -Where is she?”</p> - -<p>“She has gone,” answered the girl.</p> - -<p>“Gone whither?”</p> - -<p>“With Nambuto,” she said, falteringly.</p> - -<p>“Say on.”</p> - -<p>The story was short. On the day he had left there had been a great -meeting, and Raluve had been admonished before all the chiefs. Nambuto -had spoken kindly to her, and day after day they had waited till she -should make up her mind. Then gradually the old feeling of her race -must have gained upon her, and the memory of the dream that had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> passed -waxed fainter. Her people would take her back, and her lover had -deserted her, and as for death by her own hand—it was most terrible.</p> - -<p>“But why do you say she has gone with Nambuto?” asked Vere, fiercely. -“They are not married? Speak plainly all that you know.”</p> - -<p>“They are not yet married, but this I know, that they sailed in -Nambuto’s canoe this morning, and before they sailed Raluve’s -<i>tombe</i><a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" >[2]</a> was cut off.”</p> - -<h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The <i>tombe</i> is a long lock of hair worn by Fijian girls -until they marry, as a sign of maidenhood, the rest of the hair being -short.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE RAIN-MAKERS.</h2> - -<p>In Ambrym there is foolishness upon the coast, and wisdom among the -hills. For two whole months there had been peace: the clubs lay idle -in the eaves; the digging-stick replaced the spear; bold warriors -ingloriously tilled the soil; and yet there was scarcity. Peace, and -yet famine! December had come, but the yam-vines, already twining on -the sticks, had sickened and withered; the taro swamp was hard and -fissured, like old Turo’s face, and a stalk or two, blackened as by -fire, was all that was left of the taro; the plantain-leaves were -yellow and wrinkled; and still the earth was as iron and the heaven was -as brass. Not even Turo remembered such a season.</p> - -<p>It was useless to wait longer for rain: a few weeks longer and there -would be no one left to wait. Something must be done, and done at once. -But what?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> The ancient arts were forgotten. What is the use of being -able to creep unheard upon an unsuspecting foe, if one has forgotten -how to control the unseen powers? What profits it that one can strike -one’s foe with the club, if one no longer knows how to slay him with -magic leaves as the hillmen do? For there is foolishness upon the -coast, and wisdom dwells only among the hills.</p> - -<p>But to go to the hills for wisdom can only be resorted to under the -direst necessity. It is true that brains have often been brought from -the hills, but that was in a material form, for purposes of decoration, -as the grinning row of skulls under the eaves, that form Turo’s patent -of nobility, bear witness; and as the end one, added only eight weeks -ago, has not yet been paid for in the usual way, there is a natural -delicacy in applying for the loan of the wisdom seated in the crania of -the survivors. If only the hillmen’s heads, when sundered from their -wretched carcases, were not useless for purposes of consultation, the -difficulty would be solved.</p> - -<p>But any death is better than starvation. An ambassador must be sent. If -he does not come back, he will be no worse off than if he starved at -home, save that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> his body will play an important <i>rôle</i> at a mountain -feast, and his head will grin derisively at the mountain children -playing before the chief’s house. But even so the hillmen will be one -head to the bad, and what is the use of a big score if there be no one -left to glory in it? In a week the warriors will be so famine-weakened -that the hillmen could hold them by the hair while the boys beat them -to death, as Turo used to do when he was younger. Yes, some one must -go, and who better than Erirala the orator?</p> - -<p>The matter is put before Erirala at the evening conclave. Erirala -approves of the principle, but thinks that Malata would make a better -envoy, seeing that his brother married a hillman’s third cousin. Malata -is diffident about his powers of persuasion, and the point is submitted -to old Turo as he squats in his doorway, still trying with palsied -hands to carve the club he began two years ago.</p> - -<p>“Let Erirala go,” he pipes, and there is nothing more to be said.</p> - -<p>That night the limestone ring, the handiwork of the gods, is unburied -from its hiding-place. It is beyond all price but that of rain. Ten -barbed spears—not the shin-bone ones, because to present <i>them</i> -to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> relations of the shin-bones would be indelicate, but good -spears, inlaid with mother-of-pearl—and eight strings of shell money, -are the price with which the precious rain is to be bought. Erirala -leaves at daybreak, after being wept over by his three wives and the -sister-in-law who digs his plantation. There is nothing to do but to -wait till he either comes back or—till bad news comes. The pitiless -sun rides through the burning sky, and sinks at last behind the western -hills, leaving the air hazy and tremulous. The tide goes out, and the -mud hardens and cracks behind it as it goes. The very crickets are -silent—dead, probably, of thirst—and the people still sit, spear in -hand, beneath the palm-trees waiting. It grows dark, and still he fails -to come. Surely the worst has happened.</p> - -<p>A cry at last from the forest. A hundred voices answer, a hundred -wasted bodies spring up to welcome Erirala returned from the dead. -The silent village has found its voice at last, and every inhabitant, -down to the dingo dogs, has something to say, and says it at the top -of his voice. Brands are snatched from the fire, and then Erirala is -seen standing on the bush-path imploring silence in dumb show.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> At -last he gets it, and tells his news. The wise have taken pity and come -to the foolish; but unless the foolish keep silence, the wise will -be frightened and take to their heels, if they have not already done -so. The wise know that better men than they have been enticed by fair -words and gifts, and fallen into an ambush from which not even their -gods could save them, and never came back to tell their friends how it -happened.</p> - -<p>There is silence, and Erirala retires into the bush and calls. No -answer. He shouts again with long-drawn mountain vowels. From far up -the hillside comes a faint answer. The wise have run fast and far, -and must be reassured, and Erirala bawls comforting words into the -darkness. In twenty minutes the two wary old birds emerge into the -village square, and stand blinking in the circle of flickering light -cast by the fire. The children crowd wonderingly round them, and their -elders scan them from the dense shadow of the huts. Will the wise stay -the night? No; the wise have a particular engagement at home before -morning. Won’t they at least wait till a meal can be cooked? No; the -wise have come on business, and that done, they must needs return.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> -Well, then, since they won’t, let Erirala go with them to fetch rain.</p> - -<p>The chief magician leads the way to the river, now nearly dry. He is -elderly and wizened, with no clothes but a shell and a stick thrust -through the cartilage of his nose. His familiar is a trifle younger, -attired in the same cool garb, but dignified with an ear-lobe pierced -and distended enough to carry an empty <i>caviare</i> tin whole. The left -lobe, following a natural law, had broken under the strain, and after -dangling for months on the shoulder, has lately been excoriated and -tastefully spliced with grass bandages. The familiar carries a roll -of bark-cloth under his arm. Equipped with this only and wisdom, the -magicians would force the heavens to give rain. How wonderful is human -intellect, and how high above the beasts is man!</p> - -<p>Arrived on the river-bank, Erirala is commanded to advance no farther, -for it is not permitted the common mortal to witness the mysteries of -the intercourse between the gods and their chosen ones. Together they -pick their way among the round boulders that form the dry river-bed, -till they come to the inch-deep stream that is all that is left of -the river. Together they grope to a certain boulder, with a flat top, -whose base is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> washed by the trickling stream. “This is the place,” -says the magician. The familiar grasps it, strains at it, and raises -one end a few inches from the water. The wise one snatches the cloth -from under the familiar’s arm and thrusts it under the stone, which -falls on it with a heavy thud. Then in the pitchy darkness, with no -sound but the faint gurgle of the shallow stream, he chants magic words -in a quavering treble—words whose meaning is hidden from degenerate -man, but which were handed down by the wise men of old, in the days -when gods came up from the sea with white faces, strange head-gear, and -turtles’ shells on their backs, and slew their forefathers, and sailed -away in a magic canoe to the heavens whence they came. Whatever the -words meant, the gods always obeyed them, provided that the right kind -of cloth had been put under the right kind of stone. Would they disobey -now?</p> - -<p>When they came back Erirala was sitting on the bank, slapping his bare -limbs to kill the mosquitoes and keep his spirits up. “Erirala, there -will be rain,” said the sage; and without another word he plunged with -his companion into the bush, and was gone. The envoy returned to the -village. In answer to his anxious questioners, he could only say that -he had seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> nothing and knew nothing, except that the rain was coming.</p> - -<p>Next morning the brazen sun climbed into a copper sky. Not a breath -of air rippled the oily sea; even the distant reef was silent. It was -just such a morning as the rest, and the rain-god laughed at spells. -Nevertheless, the women were sent to cut firewood to store in the huts, -and to gather a store of bush-nuts against the time when the bush would -be impassable. The canoes at the river-mouth were hauled up lest the -flood should carry them away, and old Turo sat on the beach looking -eastwards, and chuckling to himself.</p> - -<p>But at noon the day is not like other days. The cockatoos are -screaming, which they never do at noon on other days. Insect life is -awake. The whole bush is singing, and only dull-witted man awaits a -clearer sign. And now even that is given. A purple haze has gathered in -the south-west. It resolves into a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand; -there is a muttering in the heavens, the clouds rush up the sky, though -not a breath as yet cools the simmering air or stirs the palm-leaves. -The muttering grows to a murmur, the murmur to a distant roar. The air -becomes dark; the roar gathers volume. There! there! to the south a -great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> grey pillar rolls towards us, lashing the forest beneath it: the -air grows cold. To your huts! it is upon us! and with a savage roar the -rain-storm bursts. It does not break up into paltry drops, but gushes -down upon the thirsty earth in one broad torrent, and the parched soil -drinks it greedily, and sends up a sweet fresh smell in gratitude. -Did the windows of heaven open so wide as this when Noah launched his -clumsy craft upon the waters? Surely the ocean will overflow and engulf -Ambrym.</p> - -<p>Rain, rain, rain! The sodden thatch has long since ceased to turn the -flood. The water beats down the tree-tops, bowing beneath its weight. A -raging torrent has been formed through the village square. The soil is -crumbling away to the house-foundations, and fast pouring out seawards. -There are six inches of water in every house. The crazy rafters of -Turo’s house have given way, and the last trophy has fallen and been -whirled out to sea, grinning at its enemies’ new misfortunes. Voices -are drowned in the never-ceasing roar of rushing water. It grows dark -and light again, and again dark, and the people, hearing, seeing, and -breathing nothing but water, cling helpless and dismayed to their -house-posts, and wish for the day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> The third morning dawns, and the -men gather round the wreck of Turo’s house. Their voices are drowned -by the rain and the river, whose trickling stream has long burst its -banks and become a furious torrent. They shout to one another that the -rain must be stopped. But who can stop it but the rain-makers? Erirala -must again go to the wise with greater presents than those that brought -the rain. The treasures of the village are collected, and Erirala, -half drowned, is laden for his second embassy. Knee-deep in the swift -muddy stream that has torn its way through the village, he toils step -by step up what was once the path, and disappears. It is night when he -reaches the rocky spur on which are perched the dwellings of the wise. -He gropes his way to a hut, and shouts greetings through the blinding -rain. A voice from within replies. The leaf door slides to one side, -and a skinny arm is thrust out for the presents, yet is the envoy not -invited in. He proffers his request. The foolish have had the rain. It -was good. But there was a little too much of it. Will the wise be of a -good mind and turn it off? The wise will do their best: and with this -slender comfort Erirala is left to find his way back in the dark, half -swimming and half sliding down the slippery path. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<p>But with the dawn the rain has not ceased—nay, it has gathered double -volume. What do these crafty hillmen mean? Will they kill us with water -since they failed with drought? Or are they too lazy to raise a finger -to save us?</p> - -<p>Another night passes, and with the morning comes stern resolve. There -is no doubt now what are the hillmen’s motives, and if we needs must -die of water, let us at least redden it with our enemies’ blood. There -shall be one last embassy to them, and they shall understand that -the coast warriors will be trifled with no more. An ultimatum shall -be sent to these crafty foes, and the rain shall either cease or be -dyed with the blood of the rain-makers. Angry and defiant words are -spoken at the meeting on the spur overlooking the village whither the -foolish have removed from their inundated dwellings. Hungry and cold, -they cower in the driving rain, without any shelter but the dripping -trees,—men, women, and crying children huddled together, the victims -of a cruel conspiracy between the malignant spirits and their mountain -foes. Wearily Erirala leaves them, bound upon his last embassy, without -presents this time, but with a stern message instead. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hour after hour passes, and it is near nightfall when they hear his -cry from the forest above them on the hillside. The men seize their -weapons, and spring forward to meet him. “I told them that there would -be evil unless the rain stopped to-night,” he answers; “and they said, -‘Draw out the cloth from under the stone and the rain will cease: it is -a flat-topped stone.’”</p> - -<p>What stone? Why, the river-bed, of course. Not a man is left to guard -the women and children, for the whole of the warriors follow Erirala -towards the river-bank. The roar gets louder as they rush on. It is the -river—a broad foaming cataract by this time. What hope of finding the -stone in such a hell of waters as this? But Erirala knows the place. -A party is told off to cut stout vines from the forest, and in ten -minutes a rope, to which a ship might swing, is made and fastened to a -tree in the bend of the river, round which the flood-water swirls and -eddies. Clinging to the other end, Erirala and the boy Narau are paid -out into the stream, and as the current strikes their bodies they are -whirled from side to side like a pendulum girt with a belt of foam, -and followed by a foamy wake, like the track of a fast steamer. Near -the middle of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> the stream there is a deep eddy. As Erirala reaches -this he stretches up his arm, and perhaps shouts, though no sound is -heard by those on shore. Both he and his companion disappear for a -moment, come up for breath, dive again, and then emerge, waving their -arms. The people on shore strain at the vine-rope. It does not yield -an inch. Now, all together—pull! The rope stretches, yields an inch, -another, and suddenly gives some six feet with a jerk. Narau disappears -for a moment, and is then seen whirling downstream on the swift -current, waving a dripping, sodden, greyish-looking rag. Poor Erirala -is forgotten as the whole party rush for the point for which Narau is -swimming. A dozen hands are stretched out to pull him ashore. Erirala, -leaving the rope tied to the flat-topped stone, strikes out, and in a -moment lands at the same place. Yes. Narau has the cloth, sodden though -it be to a pulp of bark-fibre, scarce adhering together.</p> - -<p>Surely already the rain is abating! Yes; there is no doubt of it! Why, -there to the north-west, it is lighter! There is a break in the clouds. -One can almost see where the sun is setting. It is little more than a -drizzle now—not even that, for we are under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> dripping trees. Two -hours later one can see the stars, and the clouds are sweeping away in -heavy masses to the southward.</p> - -<p>But just think what would have happened if Erirala had not found the -cloth under the flat-topped stone!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> - -<h2>MAKERETA.</h2> - -<p>Makereta was not beautiful. Her mouth was wide, even for a Fijian girl; -and although she was on the shady side of nineteen, she had not yet -adopted the staid demeanour suited to her decaying youth. She was a -born coquette, and being quick-witted, and with a character hitherto -irreproachable, she had captivated the hearts of all the middle-aged -widowers in her neighbourhood. Why, had it not even been reported that -she had refused the honourable offer of Jenkins, the white trader, and -sent away the haughty Buli Yasawa, broken in heart and purse, after -gracefully accepting from him five pounds’ worth of printed calico -and cheap scent! Yes; Makereta had a certain charm about her quite -apart from her skill in ironing and the use of the sewing-machine, or -her being the niece of Roko Tui Ba. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> amusing to chaff; her -repartees were witty, if not refined; and she had an inexhaustible fund -of gossip about all the ladies of her acquaintance. But what a voice -she had! Its gentlest tones struck the drum of the ear like a tap with -the teeth of a saw; and when she laughed, which was generally after -some remark of her own, the old women in the next village would grumble -to each other about “that woman’s” deficiency in chief-like behaviour. -It was Makereta’s laugh that brought her into trouble.</p> - -<p>Her sister had been for some years married to a steady old native -preacher, who was chaplain to the small native force stationed in the -mountains. This good lady was the very antipodes of the dusky Makereta. -She had never been known to flirt, but then that may have been due to -other causes than disposition, and she led her good-natured husband a -life of it by making him ferret out real or fancied scandals, very much -against his will.</p> - -<div class="center" id="i126.jpg"><img src="images/i126.jpg" alt="MAKERETA" /></div> - -<p class="bold">MAKERETA.</p> - -<p>In an evil hour Makereta and three other maidens, having caught a -miraculous haul of crabs in Nandi Bay, shouldered their baskets with -the double intention of presenting them to her sister and flirting with -the gay and licentious soldiery. They climbed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> mountain-barrier, -and in due time reached the camp. For the next few days I heard nothing -of Makereta except her laugh, which triumphed over the half-mile of -bush that lay between us. She was staying with her sister, and on some -excuse or other the men found it necessary to consult their spiritual -adviser several times daily. It was at these times that the higher -tones of the laugh floated on the breeze like the cry of some animal in -pain.</p> - -<p>At length, as the novelist of the marvellous would say, “a strange -thing happened.” An excited and dishevelled minister of religion came -panting into my house, and this is what he said:—</p> - -<p>“Sir, a terrible thing! Litiana and Makereta have been angry, and -Litiana is much hurt. This was the way of it. Makereta was in the -cook-house with some of the soldiers; they were joking, and Makereta -laughed very loud. Then Litiana called to her, saying, ‘We are ashamed -before the chiefs to-day;’ and Makereta replied with a very bad word, -and Litiana went in to chastise her, and they fought, and Makereta bit -Litiana, and her ear is gone, and——”</p> - -<p>“And what?” I asked, as he hesitated.</p> - -<p>“And, sir,” he said, solemnly, “<i>we cannot find the ear</i>.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> - -<p>I went with him. It was too true. Litiana was sobbing in a corner, -trying to stanch the blood from the site of her ear, and Makereta was -panting between two restraining soldiers. Two others were carefully -turning over the mats on what had been the battlefield. We searched -everywhere but without success, and then I turned to Makereta.</p> - -<p>“Where is your sister’s ear?” I asked.</p> - -<p>She half smiled, and said she did not know.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember biting her?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Did you bite her ear off?”</p> - -<p>“I think it came off.”</p> - -<p>“Did you <i>swallow</i> it?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Iss?</i>” (who knows?)</p> - -<p>A further ineffectual search left no doubt as to what had become of the -ear. Litiana, smarting under her injuries, haled her sister before the -native court, presided over by that magistrate who, in happier days, -used to beguile the tedium of the bench with music on the Jew’s-harp. -The damages were assessed at five shillings, and the little rift made -the music between the sisters dumb. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Was my ear only worth five shillings?” complained the elder.</p> - -<p>“Is it sisterly to drag one’s sister to court like an Indian -coolie-woman?” asked Makereta.</p> - -<p>I don’t know whether they have ever met since. Makereta soon after this -fell in love with a mild-mannered policeman, married him in defiance -of her relations, and now rules him with an iron rod somewhere down -Nadroga way. They both asked me to help them to bring it about, I -being their father, which meant that I was to supply the pigs for the -wedding-breakfast.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<h2>ROMEO AND JULIET.</h2> - -<p>Romeo loved Juliet, there was not the slightest doubt about that; for -although Juliet had been tattooed round the mouth, and had already -married Tybalt, and had dug Tybalt’s yams and cut Tybalt’s firewood for -the last two years, yet was Romeo ready to die for her. Verona slept -peacefully in the bosom of a tiny green valley, shut in by great jagged -mountains, and soothed by the lazy music of a tiny river whose water -must travel many days before it mixed with the great salt ocean. The -hot air quivered in the burning sun, which no breeze ever came to cool, -and at night not even a mosquito broke the utter silence. No street -brawls here in this Verona of Southern seas, for the humpbacked pig -and half-clothed chicken were past getting up a brawl, and they were -the only occupants of Verona’s single street. Old Capulet could tell -you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> of brawls enough, in which club took the place of rapier, and the -bodies of the slain were disposed of in a peculiar way; but that was -before the white man and the measles arrived, when Mongondro still made -the earth tremble, and before these white lunatics came and made him -wrap calico round his loins, and practise incantations with a hymn-book -(which were a waste of time, because nobody died of them as they do -of the real incantations), and taught him, in outlandish Bauan, that -when he was dead he would be made alive again to be burnt, and asked -him to give a shilling every now and again to the Great Spirit not to -burn him, and then took the shilling away with them. But old Capulet -doesn’t talk about these things any more, because last year the teacher -overheard him telling stories to the young men, and threatened to burn -him up with a flash of lightning if he ever did it again.</p> - -<p>Decidedly Verona was not an exciting place to live in; and so long as -the yam-crop was good, and the missionary left them alone, and that -other white man who came sometimes on a horse, and told them to hoe -their roads, life was easy and monotonous.</p> - -<p>Old Capulet had never heard of a romance. There wasn’t a word for it in -his vocabulary, and so he, at any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> rate, may be excused for what he did -when Tybalt came and told him what had happened. Why, in Capulet’s day, -women were not worth more than a whale’s tooth, however well they could -dig! and as for a girl refusing to marry the man who had paid for her, -or being untrue to the man she married—why, the thing was unheard of; -or at least, if it ever had happened, the case had always been dealt -with in the same way—the club, with sometimes the oven to follow.</p> - -<p>So when Tybalt came that evening with the story about Romeo and -Juliet his wife—Romeo, a man of the hated Noikoro clan,—it was not -surprising that old Capulet repaired to Tybalt’s house with his long -walking-staff, and, with Tybalt’s active co-operation, gave Juliet a -rather severe thrashing. Nor did the old women see any more romance in -the affair than did Capulet; and from the day when Tybalt’s suspicions -became certainties, the course of true love ran very roughly indeed. -Did poor Juliet don her newest <i>liku</i>, with a fringe nearly ten inches -long, to go wood-cutting in the hope of a stolen meeting with her -adorer, she was sure to find some old village hag dogging her steps. -Did she put on Koroisau’s old pinafore to impress Romeo on Sunday with -her superior sense of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> decencies, her most sacred feelings were -sure to be harrowed in the evening by injurious remarks about her -figure, and the folly of old women trying to pass for young girls.</p> - -<p>Romeo, poor fellow, fared no better. He was no longer welcome in the -village of his adoption. When the yams were boiled he was not even -asked to partake of them. Some one trampled his yam-vines in the night, -and, last insult of all, Capulet’s nephew threw a stone at his pig. He -loved Juliet with a great and overwhelming passion. He did not know -why. She was not beautiful, though her mouth, it is true, was a triumph -of the tattooer’s skill; but time had over-ripened her charms, and the -lines of her youthful figure were a trifle blurred and indistinct. Yet -Romeo was quite sure in his own mind that nobody had ever loved as he -did in the world before, and Juliet returned his passion—at least she -said she did.</p> - -<p>Life was becoming unbearable for both of them. They could not fly -together, for whither could they fly? Romeo had once seen the sea from -the mountain-pass at Naloto, and he had heard that the water closed -in his land all round. He knew well enough that if he fled with her -to any village he had heard of, in two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> weeks they would be brought -back; and as for the bush, the idea of living there alone was not to be -thought of for a moment. There was one refuge. He did not know where -it was, but he knew the path that led to it, which many another had -trod before him. The white men said it was a very pleasant place if -you were a missionary, but a very hot and uncomfortable place if you -were only a mountaineer. But Romeo didn’t believe that. The spirits of -the coast natives jumped from the north-west cliffs into the sea, and -the wraiths of the old mountain chiefs lived in the thick forest—at -least so the old men said; but as no one had ever been there and come -back, how could any one know? True, the teacher said that a white man -had been there and come back, but then white men eat biscuits and -things out of tins, and have other gods, and so they probably go to a -different place. For the place Romeo was thinking of, with bitterness -gnawing at his savage heart, was Death, and the path that led to it was -<i>Langaingai</i>.</p> - -<p>Romeo knew all about <i>Langaingai</i>, for had not Gavindi drunk of it last -year and died, and those two Naloto girls, who smoked after drinking -it to make it doubly sure, and Janeti, Buli Nandrau’s daughter,—only -her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> relations poured cocoa-nut milk down her throat when she had only -traversed the path half-way? He knew not who had discovered it, for the -old men did not know it. In their day the path was always open to him -who would travel it—by an enemy’s club. Perhaps some wise woman taught -Gavindi, and showed him how to mix orange-bark with it, and smoke away -his life when he had drunk.</p> - -<div class="center" id="i134.jpg"><img src="images/i134.jpg" alt="FRIAR LAURENCES HOUSE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">FRIAR LAURENCE’S HOUSE.</p> - -<p>Now Friar Laurence, though unconnected with the cloth, had in his -time performed the last offices to a larger number of people than any -other practitioner in the mountains. In his own person he had not -unfrequently united the offices of both sexton and grave. But that -side of his business was recreation rather than solid work. His real -calling might rank as one of the fine arts. Like the painter and the -author, his stock-in-trade was small, and easily obtained. The art lay -in employing his properties with skill. They consisted in a bamboo, a -banana-leaf, a bit of bark, a leaf or two, and a little human hair. -Furnished with these simple tools, Friar Laurence would, for the -trifling sum of a whale’s tooth, or a bolt of bark-cloth, lay low -the head on which the hair had grown. So widespread was the Friar’s -reputation that, when the mad white men had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> come and forbidden the -noble art of war, he had found it convenient to reside for some months -in an inaccessible mountain-cave, and had returned to Verona with his -occupation gone, and a head crammed with the wisdom born of solitary -meditation.</p> - -<p>To Friar Laurence then did Romeo repair one dark still night. The -wise man sat on a log at his threshold airing his shrunken legs. He -eyed Romeo’s whale’s tooth with bleared and watery eyes, and asked -enigmatically what tree he wanted felled. When he understood the -situation he seemed disappointed, and only told Romeo to return the -following night with a white man’s bottle full of the stuff they call -kerosene. This entailed a journey of thirty miles the following day to -fetch the precious liquid from the nearest store; but Romeo was ready -to do more than this, and at sunset the Friar received the bottle, a -square black one. He emptied into a cocoa-nut shell all the oil except -a wine-glassful, and filled up the bottle with an opaque muddy-looking -fluid.</p> - -<p>That night beneath the <i>tavola</i>-tree, where they had their tryst, did -Romeo tell Juliet that the moment for carrying out their sorrowful plan -had come. She had just been telling him that her misery was so great -that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> she could not bear to live longer. But when Romeo showed her in -the dim light the ominous gin-bottle, two huge cigarettes, and a box of -matches, and further whispered the dread name <i>Langaingai</i>, life seemed -suddenly to have become less unbearable than before. But Romeo was -terribly in earnest, and she, half consenting, followed him. Silently -they trod the narrow path that led to Romeo’s yam-patch. A babbling -stream bordered it, and on the bank beneath a huge banyan-tree they sat -down side by side. Juliet was weeping, but Romeo, with set face, stared -at the bottle tight clenched in his hand. Sadly he lighted one of the -cigarettes, and, handing it to Juliet, said, “You shall drink first, -and when you are dead I will drink too, and follow you. You must smoke -this as soon as you have drunk down to there,” and he indicated the -place half-way down the bottle with his thumb-nail.</p> - -<p>Juliet’s blood ran cold. With a little shiver she pushed the bottle -away, saying, “Be of a good mind, Aisala, and drink first, for you are -the stronger; and when you are dead it will be easy for me to die after -you.”</p> - -<p>But Romeo saw that she was dissembling, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> black fear filled her -heart. He gloomily drew the cork, and put the neck of the bottle to his -nose. It smelt horrible, for the kerosene was floating on the top. He -turned fiercely upon Juliet.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to fool me?” he cried. “Know now that you shall drink -first, that we may die together.”</p> - -<p>He seized her roughly by the wrist and tried to force the foul-smelling -bottle between her lips. Life had never seemed so sweet to Juliet as -at that moment. If Romeo chose to die—well, that was his affair; but -as for her—she preferred life. She struggled and screamed, and with a -bitter cry Romeo released her, and putting the bottle to his own lips -drank greedily. Seeing this, and beside herself with fear, Juliet fled -shrieking down the path to Verona, and roused the whole village with -her cries.</p> - -<p>“In his yam-patch,” she cried—“he is dead! He has drunk <i>Langaingai</i>.”</p> - -<p>All Verona was soon beneath the banyan-tree—all Verona except -Friar Laurence, who was accustomed to this kind of thing. There lay -Romeo unconscious, his head pillowed on an empty gin-bottle, with a -half-smoked <i>suluka</i> between his nerveless fingers. Gently they lifted -him, and bore him to Capulet’s house, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> lit torches, and drove out -the women, and brought young cocoa-nuts, and prised open Romeo’s jaws -with a digging-stick, and forced the milk down his throat; and all the -while the teacher sat by in a clean white shirt, bursting to question -the reviving Romeo about the details of his love affair, to draw a -moral therefrom for his next Sunday’s sermon.</p> - -<p>At last Romeo, half drowned in cocoa-nut milk, spluttered, coughed, -and opened his eyes. He thought perhaps for a moment that he was in -another world; but this was no time for vain regrets, for the teacher -had them in his grip, and was cross-examining the frightened Juliet as -to how many months their <i>liaison</i> had continued. Meanwhile the village -officer arrived with a rusty pair of handcuffs, and before daylight -Romeo, but half recovered from his journey to “that bourne,” found -himself embarked on that rougher journey over the rocky path that leads -to the Tuatuacoko court-house.</p> - -<p>Why could not the story have ended here, with the romance all unspoilt, -with the old story of love till death, and faithless timorous beauty? -But I must tell the story to the end as it really happened, and not as -I would fain tell it. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Commissioner’s court sat, the assessors were sworn, the charge was -attempted suicide, the chief witness for the prosecution was Juliet, -and poor Romeo was in the dock. He was quite the ugliest man I have -ever seen—deeply pitted with smallpox, and with a mouth which, seen -full face, might have extended completely round his head for all one -could see to the contrary. The defence was ingenious. Romeo pleaded -that the people of Verona had treated him so badly that they deserved a -fright and a warning, and the alleged poison was nothing more noxious -than a decoction of orange-bark mixed in an old kerosene-bottle; -that he had drunk this off and shammed being dead until he saw the -joke had gone far enough, and that then he came to life again. The -empty gin-bottle was brought, the dregs poured into a saucer, and a -policeman was sent into the bush to bring some real <i>Langaingai</i>. It -was a slender, small-leafed plant, about eighteen inches in height, -with a fibrous woody bark. The bark was scraped in court, and kneaded -up with a little water, and strained. The result was a muddy-looking -yellow fluid. The alleged poison smelt abominably of kerosene; but the -liquids had to be compared somehow, and the assessors, one English and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> -one native, volunteered to furnish the vile body. The court also tried -half a teaspoonful of each. After imbibing the kerosene, one became -conscious of an acrid biting flavour, unlike any known taste. There was -no doubt that the liquids were identical. Of the after effects, I need -only say that the court adjourned, and no more evidence was taken that -day, both court and assessors spending their time in drinking cocoa-nut -milk, and trying to resume control over their interior mechanism. When -they did recover, Romeo was convicted.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE WOMAN FINAU.</h2> - -<p>“The woman knows no shame, she defies the law, she despises your -orders, and she says she will never leave the white man.”</p> - -<p>“Then let them marry.”</p> - -<p>“I told her that, and she said it was not the foreigner’s wish to marry -her. But you are the Governor. It is for you to punish evil-doers. All -Vavau is ashamed because of this woman.”</p> - -<p>“Arrest her, then, and bring her here.”</p> - -<p>At sunset the chiefs had met at the ruinous wooden villa that is -the Government House. In the central hall, once gay with paint and -gilding, they sat cross-legged before the <i>kava</i>-bowl, young Laifone -the Governor in the seat of honour. And into this august assembly Ana -Finau, the abandoned contemner of public opinion and the law of the -land, was led <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>trembling, the only woman in the room. The men stopped -talking and looked at her with hard unsympathetic faces. What pity -should they have for a countrywoman of theirs who could stoop to one -of these vile foreigners, and leave her own kind for the society of a -trader—a white man?</p> - -<p>The policeman who brought her told her roughly to sit down before the -Governor, who glanced at her and bade his companion continue the story -the girl’s entrance had interrupted. The chiefs who had come from a -distance asked their neighbours who the girl was, and why she had been -brought. She meanwhile sat on the floor, her feet doubled under her, -as the manner is, her eyes cast down, but with a certain dogged air of -resistance about her, as if she was prepared for the worst.</p> - -<p>The story was finished. From Laifone’s hearty laugh it might be guessed -that it was not over-refined, and the policeman called his attention -to Ana Finau. It was no time for business, for the <i>kava</i> was nearly -pounded, the two kerosene-lamps were lighted, and Laifone was bored -with the cares of office. He held up his hand, and the ringing thud of -the pounding <i>kava</i>-stones ceased. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ana,” he said, “they say you are living with the white man. You were -punished and told to leave him, and you have gone back.”</p> - -<p>The girl reached for a straw on the dirty floor, and began to dissect -it with her fingers, examining it intently.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you answer?” asked the policeman, roughly. She glanced up -for a moment, and resumed her dissection of the straw.</p> - -<p>“It is true,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Why do you not marry him?”</p> - -<p>“That is Falani’s affair. I suppose he is not willing that we should -marry.”</p> - -<p>“Then you must leave him at once,” said Laifone, with the air of having -dismissed the subject, and turned to the story-teller with a question.</p> - -<p>The girl did not move. She had pulled her straw to pieces, and now -deliberately reached for another. She looked comely in the lamplight -which touched the clear red skin, threw deep shadows into the eyes, and -glinted through her glistening auburn curls. The <i>kava</i>-stones rang -out again, and conversation became general. The policeman touched her -arm. She shook him off impatiently, threw her head back, and looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> -Laifone full in the face, said, “I shall not leave Falani.”</p> - -<p>There was a dead silence. The <i>kava</i>-pounder paused with stone -uplifted. Laifone stared at her, half amused and half angry.</p> - -<p>“You must leave him, or be punished,” he said, and muttered something -about a beautiful girl wasted.</p> - -<p>But the policeman was scandalised and indignant. “You impudent woman,” -he cried, “you have insulted the Governor and the chiefs. You have -no shame, and you are impudent.” Then turning to Laifone he cried, -“Is Vavau to become heathen because of this evil-minded woman? It has -become a by-word. Religion is despised because of her. We look to you, -Laifone. I pray you leave her to us, the police, to deal with her. We -will bring her to obedience.”</p> - -<p>“Take her away then.”</p> - -<p>He sprang up, seized her roughly by the arm, lifted her to her feet, -dragged her to the door, and, with a sudden jerk, pulled her whimpering -out into the darkness. A man at the back of the room followed them out.</p> - -<p>“A strong-minded woman,” said Laifone. “Pound the <i>kava</i>.”</p> - -<p>The root is pounded, kneaded in the bowl, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> strained. “<i>Fakatau</i>,” -cries the presiding Matabule. Then as the cocoa-nut is filled, the man -at the bowl gives the piercing long-drawn cry, “<i>Kava kuo heka</i>,” and -as he ceases, the cry is taken up from the darkness outside—a wail of -agony.</p> - -<p>“Hark! what is that?” says Laifone. It comes again and ceases in -choking sobs—a woman’s voice.</p> - -<p>A man runs out, and in a moment returns. “It is Ana Finau,” he says; -“the police are doing something to her.”</p> - -<p>The wail of agony comes again, mixed with the accents of a man’s voice -in anger, and a dull sound like a blow.</p> - -<p>“Go and tell them to be quieter,” says the presiding Matabule; “or -stay,” he adds, “tell them to take her farther off. Don’t they know we -are drinking <i>kava</i>?”</p> - -<p>Franz Kraft is entertaining to-night. It is a fact to be remembered -in Vavau when one <i>copra</i>-trader spends the evening with another, -for competition is strong and the milk of human kindness watery. -There, in the mean little room at the back of the store, they sit -at the only table, which is furnished with glasses, a cracked jug, -and the inevitable square black bottle. Round the room are ranged a -number of half-emptied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> cases of cheap German prints and cutlery, -whose contents are piled about, to be within reach if any of the -shelves in the store should need replenishing. Franz Kraft, in a dirty -flannel shirt and trousers, unkempt, perspiring, and bibulous, is not -a fascinating-looking person, but he is prosperous and refined as -compared with his companion. They have reached the quarrelsome stage of -the evening,—anon they will be vowing eternal friendship,—and Franz -is accusing his boon companion of the heinous crime of underselling -him, and emphasising his forcible remarks with heavy blows with his -fist upon the table. It is hard to realise that this squalid ruffian, -who is content to live on fare that the forecastle of a whaler would -reject, is worth ten or twelve thousand pounds, made by his own thrift -and hard work.</p> - -<p>“You haf for dwenty bounds of kreen <i>cobra</i> one shilling given, I say. -Finau, she tell me,” he cries, with emphasis born of gin.</p> - -<p>The door behind him opens, and a gust of wind extinguishes the -kerosene-lamp. Franz swears as he gropes for the matches. But when they -are found the lamp-funnel is too hot to hold, and the match goes out. -The boon companion slams the door to with his foot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> and in doing so -stumbles against a soft body on the floor.</p> - -<p>“Who the h—ll is it?” he cries; “some d—d nigger. A woman, by G—d!” -he adds, as the body groans in answer to his kick.</p> - -<p>Franz having succeeded in lighting the lamp, turns to look at the -intruder. A woman lies face downwards on the floor sobbing. The -Englishman takes her roughly by the arm, and turns her over.</p> - -<p>“By G—d! Kraft, it’s Finau, and badly knocked about too! Here, you’d -better see to her. I’m off home.”</p> - -<p>Kraft stooped, lamp in hand, saw the torn <i>vala</i> and the poor bruised -face, and knew who had done this, and why. But as he raised her, he -asked all the same.</p> - -<p>“The police,” she answered, “because I would not leave you.”</p> - -<p>Long after she has sobbed herself to sleep Kraft was muttering his -opinions of the police and the authorities generally in forcible -German. To-morrow he will beard the Governor Laifone, and tell him what -he thinks of him. He will take Finau away to Samoa or Fiji, where the -moral code is less strict, and she will be left in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> peace; for the girl -is a good girl, can cook well, can even be trusted to mind the store, -will spy on the doings of the neighbouring traders—is, in short, -necessary to him. And she is better than Hinz’s and Schulze’s women, -who have children to squall and get in the way. Besides, she will stay -with him till he takes his long-projected trip to Hamburg. When that -time comes she can go back to her relations, and the police will leave -her alone.</p> - -<p>But when the morrow came Kraft heard that the Government oranges were -to be sold to the highest bidder—a whole season’s crop. There is money -in it, and it will never do to quarrel with the Governor; and as for -going to Fiji or Samoa in the middle of the <i>copra</i> season—of course -that is out of the question. Finau had told him the details of her -trial overnight, and the outrage, and she dared to hint that marriage -would shield her for the future; but Kraft was too old a bird to be -caught in such a trap as young Elliston was, for the chief object of -the coming trip to Hamburg was the carrying out of a long-cherished -scheme. He would figure in his native town as a wealthy planter, with -vast estates in the Pacific, and dazzle the eyes of some young girl -with a <i>dot</i>, then settle down as an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> altogether respectable character. -Of this part of the scheme Finau knew nothing.</p> - -<p>Christmas, with its feasting and church-going, with its stifling heat -and drowning showers, has come and gone. The oranges have turned -to gold on the trees as they were in Hesperus’s garden of old, and -are falling in thousands among the long grass, because there are -not thirsty mouths enough to suck them. The traders have bickered -and wrangled all the long season through, till they are scarcely on -drinking terms. The monthly steamer is here for her last cargo of -oranges. From dawn till sunset carts laden with the golden fruit -plough the miry roads, and the tap of the hammer nailing down the -fruit-cases is never silent. Once a-month this “sleepy hollow” of -the Pacific assumes an air of energy and bustle, and then sinks into -coma, exhausted by the effort, as the steamer glides round the point. -The fit is upon it now. The whole population is either at work or -encouraging the workers,—the girls and children pelting the men with -oranges as they sweat under the heavy cases on the wharf. All save -one. Up there in Kraft’s store, where the laughter and shouts from the -wharf are faintly echoed, a woman, half blinded by her tears, is on -her knees before an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> iron trunk. It is Finau learning the lesson that -men teach women,—sometimes when the skin of both is white, generally -when one is brown. She only heard last night that Falani was called -away to <i>papalagi</i>, and that one of those strange necessities that -govern the lives of white men forced him to leave her. But who knows? -All her friends prophesied that this would happen when she first came -to Falani. And there was Maata, who went to William, the white man, -because he said he would marry her; and he kept putting it off, and -then, when she had had her first child, he went to <i>papalagi</i>, saying -he would return in a month. That was six years ago. And now Falani was -going.</p> - -<p>If she had had a white skin, and the man did this to her, she would -perhaps have been strengthened by the sense of bitter wrong that he -could take her all, let her slave for him, and suffer for him, and -then lightly cast her aside without even the grace to take her into -his confidence till the last morning; or she would have been cast into -the black depths of despair by her utter desolation: but being only a -native woman with a brown skin, she felt neither of these, and helped -him to pack his trunk.</p> - -<p>Kraft himself, returning from the steamer, breaks in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> upon her reverie, -bustling and eager. She sees the half-concealed delight in his face, -and even that does not repel her, being, as I have said, a native with -none of the finer feelings.</p> - -<p>“Falani,” she says solemnly, “tell me truly why you are going. Is it -because you are weary of me, or because I have borne you no children?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Finau, do not worry, or say foolish things. You know it is because -I cannot help myself, and in six months I shall be back with you, and I -shall write to you often. Do not be foolish.”</p> - -<p>“Falani, you will forget me,” she persists, “and marry some white -woman, as Mr Leason did. And you swore so often you would never leave -me. Only a week ago you swore it.”</p> - -<p>This being true is too much for his patience.</p> - -<p>“You will make me tire of you, Finau, if you talk foolishly, and get -angry. I have told you the truth. In six months I shall be back, and -then we will be married by the missionary—that is, if you are good, -and do not talk foolishly.”</p> - -<p>This has the desired effect of making Finau cry; and as even a German -<i>copra</i>-trader has a soft spot in his composition, a sudden impulse of -tenderness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and remorse makes the man take her in his arms and try to -soothe away her trouble. For the moment he almost realises that this -woman has loved him as he never deserved to be loved,—that she has not -even shrunk from death itself for his sake, and that in return she only -asks him to let her go on serving him; and for all this he is about to -stab her in the back, to lie to her, to desert her. Is it too late?</p> - -<p>So they sit in the steamy air, laden with the hot smell of rotting -fruit, while the laughter and shouts float up to them from the wharf, -and he, half wavering, caresses her, and whispers comforting promises -into her ear.</p> - -<p>But the shrill whistle of the steamer pierces the air, drowning all -other sounds in its own vulgar yell. The spell is broken. Kraft has -paid his passage, and the steamer is going. All the rest is folly, born -of an over-tender heart.</p> - -<p>“Finau, I must go!” he cries; “give me the box, and say good-bye, or I -shall be late.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Oua leva</i>” (wait), she says, and running to the box under pretence -of rearranging its contents, she strips off her scented neckerchief, -and buries it among the clothes. “He shall take my shadow with him,” -she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> murmurs; and then turning to him, she asks him to throw his -handkerchief into the sea when the steamer sails, “to be your shadow -with me.” She is so earnest about this little superstition that, half -laughing, he promises.</p> - -<p>The whistle blows again, a hurried kiss, and he goes off, box on -shoulder, while she, stifling her sobs, walks wearily to the hill above -the harbour and sits down, covering her head with her <i>vala</i>.</p> - -<p>She sees the mate drive the crowd of natives over the gangway on to the -wharf, the hawser cast off, and she sees Falani distinctly leaning over -the rail and laughing with the other white men with whom he has just -parted. She watches him as the steamer glides down the harbour. Now he -will throw his handkerchief, and be bound irrevocably to come back to -her. Now, surely, he will throw it. What, not yet? Ah! he is waiting -till the vessel nears the point. She stands up in her eagerness. “He -must throw it,—he promised!” she cries aloud in her agony. But the -vessel is half behind the point now—a moment more and she is out of -sight—and he never threw it: so he is gone for ever, and will never -return to Finau as long as they both shall live. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - -<p>Kraft had forgotten his promise until, looking up, he saw and -recognised a lonely figure, with arms outstretched, upon the hill; -but feeling in his pocket, he found he had only one handkerchief, and -it was not worth sacrificing a good handkerchief for a silly native -superstition.</p> - -<p>Under the first sense of utter loneliness the sneers of her own people -were easy enough to bear. <i>They</i> did not understand. And then, when -she had returned to the old life at Latu’s house with her own people, -living their life, sharing their interests, the sorrow faded (as sorrow -always does fade, thank heaven!), and the past became a little hazy and -unreal. It is good to be a child, or to have a brown skin, which is the -same thing, for with them time will heal in days wounds that cripple -us for years, and leave scars behind them: and so the sun shines again -as brightly as before, and the growth is not stunted. Only sometimes -at the <i>gatu</i>-board Finau’s mallet would stop beating, and her eyes -would wander away there to the point in the harbour that shuts out -the channel, with a wistful far-off look, until the woman next her, -indignant at being left to beat for both, would cry out, “The <i>gatu</i> -[bark-cloth] is hardening while Finau is looking for Falani;”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> and -during the coarse laugh that followed Finau would beat the yielding -bark with ringing blows, changing her mallet from hand to hand as each -tired.</p> - -<p>So six months passed away. Finau had long given up asking at the -post-office for a letter when the steamer came in; and when young Beni, -the post-office clerk, threw her one at the <i>kava</i>-drinking in Latu’s -house two days after the steamer had left, she thought for a moment -there had been some mistake. Beni, with the privilege appertaining -to his office, had as usual opened it and circulated it among his -acquaintances for the two days that had intervened since the arrival -of the mail; but being in some white man’s language, his curiosity was -still ungratified. Finau thrust it into the bosom of her <i>kofu</i>, and -contained her soul in patience until the morning. She was at Müller’s -door before he was up next morning. After he had promised inviolable -secrecy the German letter was produced, read, and translated into -dog-Tongan, while Finau sat on the floor with glistening eyes. The joke -was altogether too good for Müller to keep to himself, promise or no -promise, and before evening all in Vavau who cared to know, whether -white or brown, were duly made aware that Franz Kraft could not live<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -without Finau,—that though his body was in Germany his heart was in -Vavau,—and that though the German ladies of high degree all made love -to him, yet none was so beautiful as Finau, and he was adamant to them. -The whole effusion did great credit to Kraft’s wit; and the best of the -joke was that Finau swallowed it all, including the paragraph about -his tearing himself away from Hamburg because he could not bear the -separation any longer, only the chiefs in Hamburg would not let him -go for some inscrutable reason of their own. Truly Franz Kraft was a -most humorous fellow. The one sentence Müller did not translate was a -heading, in execrable Tongan, that she was to get the drunken Wilhelm -Kraft, Franz’s brother, to read the letter, and on no account to take -it to Müller or any one else.</p> - -<p>But what cared Finau that the contents of her letter were public? They -might laugh as they would—her husband had not forgotten her: he was -coming back to marry her, and she would toil for him all her days, and -be happy. Next month would come another letter to say he was starting, -and in three months more he would be here. Ah, those months would be so -easy to live through now! She gravely dictated to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> delighted Müller -an answering love-letter. She never ceased to think of him; and she -had had no rest since he went; and would the good God guard him, and -bring him safely back to her,—a very tame composition beside Kraft’s -love-letter, but as Müller never sent it, the lack of style was of no -consequence.</p> - -<p>But the letter that should have come by the next steamer must doubtless -have been lost in the post; or perhaps Kraft was starting, and did not -think it worth while to write. Another mail, and still no letter. Ah! -it is now clear. Poor Falani must be ill. The old letter was getting -quite worn out now, from being carried in the bosom and slept on at -night, but the writing was still visible through the oil-stains. It -certainly did look shaky,—yes, decidedly Falani must be ill.</p> - -<p>And then the third steamer came, and Beni said there was no letter. -That evening brother Wilhelm paid Latu a visit, three sheets in the -wind, as was usual with him at that time of night. He wanted Finau; -he was labouring with a message for Finau. She is fetched from the -cook-house. The difficulty is to find words for the message to Finau, -for the message requires “breaking gently,” and it is difficult to -break news gently under the influence of gin. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Finau,” hiccoughs brother Wilhelm, “Falani has written. He told me -to tell you—he is married.” The instructions were to break the news -gently, and having carried them out to the satisfaction of his own -conscience, brother Wilhelm takes himself to where the bottles are -square and black, and the night may be profitably spent.</p> - -<p>Far from the haunts of men there is a place where none dare to come -alone. The land sloping up from Neiafu is broken here in a great -precipice, against whose feet the mighty ocean-rollers, unchecked by -any reef, break ceaselessly with a dull roar, making the overhanging -rocks tremble a thousand feet above them. Landwards Haafulu Hao, with -its myriad islets, is spread out like a map; seawards is nothing but -the sleepless ocean meeting the blue sky. Thither the dead are brought -to sleep in their white graves, untroubled by the living; thither go -the poets of the <i>lakalaka</i> for inspiration; thither go the girls of -Halaufuli for flower-garlands, but not alone, for the spirits of the -dead roam among the rocks of Liku, and must be scared away by numbers. -Jutting out from the precipice is a single shaft of rock round which, -even in calm weather, a furious wind eddies. With a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> head one may -climb out to this pinnacle, and, holding on firmly, see nothing between -his feet and the foaming surf a thousand feet below.</p> - -<p>There was a faint light in the western horizon where the moon had set. -The stars were veiled by fleecy clouds—only where Venus hung low in -the sky, casting a silver trail over the sea, was the night clear. -The strong south-east trade-wind was turning cold, as it does before -dawn, and Finau, breathless from her unconscious journey, instinctively -wrapped her <i>vala</i> round her shoulders. As she ran from the shelter -of the roaring palms on to the cliff’s edge, the thunder of the surf -made the rock on which she stood tremble, and the south wind, wet -with spray, drenched her with tiny particles of water. The path ended -here: it was only used for the last journey of the dead, who slept -all around her in their shrouds of white sand glistening in the dim -starlight. The sight of the precipice before her brought reflection to -her maddened brain. She was on the Liku where the spirits are, and at -night, when the spirits oftenest are abroad. But she felt no fear now, -for a sudden thought had taken possession of her. She remembered how, -not many months since, Laubasi, the beauty of Neiafu, had disappeared; -how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> they had searched for her, following the girlish footprints in -the muddy path; how Palu the fisherman had crept down the cliff-face -at Anamatangi, and seen far below him a body lying on a rocky ledge; -how at first it was thought that she had been swept down by the furious -wind that roars across the cave’s mouth in all weathers, boisterous or -calm, until the body was brought back, and then the women gave another -reason—for Laubasi was a Wesleyan class-leader, much regarded for her -character, and in a month or two that would have been gone had she -lived. The Anamatangi was scarce half a mile from where Finau stood. -With set purpose in her dark face she walked quickly along the narrow -path, hedged in by overhanging trees that led along the edge of the -cliff. In half a mile she emerged upon a grassy plain sloping down -towards Neiafu, whence in the daytime the thousand isles of Haafulu -Hao could be seen as in a map. Here she turned seawards, and passed -down a stony narrow path among the trees. The path became narrower and -steeper, then rose a little, and suddenly Finau found herself standing -upon a razor edge of rock, the apex of a buttress jutting many feet -beyond the main cliff, whose base had been worn away by the surf of -ages. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was too dark to see below, but as every long roller crashed into -the caves at the cliff’s base the pinnacle trembled, and she knelt, -grasping the rugged moss with her fingers. Only not to think—not -to think of what she had come here to do,—not to think of what lay -below her in the darkness,—not to think of what was beyond if she -passed the gate! She remembered Paula’s sermon when Laubasi’s fate -was known,—how he described her burning in the flames, as if he had -been there to see; but he had said that of so many people, and Falani -said it was all an invention of the missionaries to make the people -give them money. How white, how still and restful, those graves had -seemed, in one of which Laubasi lay; but how the sharp-pointed rocks -must have torn her flesh when she fell! It must have been a worse agony -than the police inflicted, and that was too much to bear! So she lay -face downward on the rocky pinnacle, her courage waning, filled with -despair, and with a terror that was worse than despair. The east turned -grey, and the morning star was quenched by the growing light which -flecked the sea with foaming wave-tops, unseen till now. And with the -dawn the wind grew stronger, till it would have been unsafe for Finau -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> stand up, even if she would. The face of the cliff, too, behind her -became visible, and she saw with terror the dangers of the path she had -traversed by the dim light of the stars. One false step and her body -would have fallen down there, where ledge upon ledge and pinnacle upon -pinnacle of grey limestone-rock are half hidden by ferns and creepers, -as the thorns of the <i>matolu</i> are hidden by its velvet leaves, and -beneath all a white hell of roaring waters.</p> - -<p>As the light grew, she saw in the face of the precipice behind her a -black hole large enough to admit the body of a man. To reach it one -must creep along a ledge, slanting from the place where she lay. This -was the cave of the winds, into which only Tubou the fleet-footed had -penetrated, and Lolohea, who, tradition said, had fled when Feletoa -was taken, and who, after peace was made, still dwelt in the wild -Liku, communing with the spirits, and accumulating wisdom. It was on -this very spot he stood when King Finau’s men brought him to bay till -their chief should speak with him; and it was here that he was offered -lands, slaves, and the choice of the fairest maidens of Vavau, only -to refuse them for the solitude of this awful place. The wind was -increasing in force, and it boomed across the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> mouth of the cave like -a great organ-pipe. In the lulls a hollow roar seemed to come from the -very bowels of the island. Somewhere far below the great ocean-rollers -poured in, driving the imprisoned air through the mouth with terrific -force. Surely no living man could dare the feats of those old heroes of -tradition?</p> - -<p>No! Death in such a place, and in such a way, were too horrible, and -Finau, trembling and weak, looked round for a way of escape. The ridge -she had crossed was now vibrating like a tense wire. She tried to rise, -clinging to the rotten fern with her hands, and nearly lost her balance -in a sharp gust of wind. It was hopeless. So she must die after all! -And she lay there, dazed and bewildered, with all other desire gone but -that of living.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>“Here is the woman Finau. Her mind is foolish, but I have brought her -back alive. Take better care of her, lest we of the Liku be again -obliged to save her and carry her these four miles. Next time she goes -to the cave of the winds she will fall perhaps where Laubasi did, and -then we shall have to bury your dead.”</p> - -<p>Finau’s uncle is awakened by a pinch on the leg, and goes out sulkily -into the darkness with the man to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> where his cart stands. The jolting -over the stony roads from Halaufuli has wakened Finau from her stupor, -and she talks wildly and incoherently as her helpless body is lifted -from the cart and laid on the mats near the lamp.</p> - -<p>“The police will come to ask questions, for they stopped me as I was -coming. I don’t want to get into trouble, so I shall go.” The cart -rumbles away into the night.</p> - -<p>It is weary work tending Finau week after week, for there are limits -even to the claims of kinship. A relation may be ill and helpless for -a week, or even two, and who would complain? But when it passes into -months, and the relation has fits of blind anger, and talks foolishly, -and is ungrateful, who can be blamed for wishing to get rid of her? -Thus reasoned Ana, Finau’s aunt by marriage, after the manner of her -kind, and not being ashamed of her opinions, she gave them to all -Neiafu, including John Mason, the drunken carpenter, a grass-widower -three times deep. And when Ana understood that there was a vacancy in -the Mason household, and that the householder himself had had great -difficulty in supplying the vacancy, she enlarged upon the charms and -attractions of Finau,—her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>washing and ironing, her cooking, and her -undoubted experience in providing for the comfort of a husband overcome -with nocturnal convivialities. To Finau, in Mason’s absence, she made -returning life a burden. It is better to die than to lie weak and -helpless, eating food grudgingly given, and sheltered by an unfriendly -roof. And after each of Mason’s friendly visits Ana would say, “Why -does he come here? Why? because he desires you, of course! I heard him -say that your face was beautiful, and that he wanted you to live with -him. Drunken? Not more than Falani or the other white men, and when he -is drunk he would not ill-treat you. Used to beat Mele, did he? Ah, -that was another of Mele’s lies! She was always seeking an excuse to -leave him, because she liked Lavuso better. No. Jone Mesoni was not the -man to beat his wife unless she deserved it, and even then not hard -with a stick, but with his hand!”</p> - -<p>And so at last, when one evening Mason came with a bigger <i>kava</i>-root -than usual, and took his bowl from Finau’s hands, and stayed after the -others had gone, she, feeling bitter anger in her heart towards the -man, but a greater bitterness towards the relations who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> drove her from -their door, would resist no more. Mason wasted no time over courtship. -He crawled over to where she sat, and roughly threw his arm round her -in the presence of them all. She pushed him away with a gesture of -disgust.</p> - -<p>“Finau,” he said, in a voice broken with vinous emotion, “it is well -that we should live together. You will come to my <i>abi</i> to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>Finau sat with her face hidden in her hands, but Ana, the matchmaker, -answered for her.</p> - -<p>“Yes. I will bring her before mid-day, so that she may prepare dinner.”</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>The steamer is in again from New Zealand. After the miscellaneous crowd -of natives from the southern islands have disembarked, and sniffed and -wept over their friends of Vavau, there is a flutter of excitement -among the onlookers.</p> - -<p>“<i>Dies kann doch nicht Franz Kraft sein, Pots Tausend! was für -ein eleganter Herr!</i>” cries Karl Müller; for lo! Franz Kraft, the -dishevelled, the disreputable, shaved, transfigured, and glorified in -a black coat and billycock hat, silver-mounted walking-stick in hand, -is there. And more than this, Franz Kraft is leading a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> lady over the -gangway, for all the world as if he were handing her out of a tram-car -at the Thiergarten-gate His old boon companions whisper together in -derisive curiosity as Franz, affecting not to see them, paces the -wharf with dignity, his companion on his arm. She, poor thing, makes a -curious figure against the palm-trees and white sand—for black satin, -white cotton stockings, and German hats do not go well with palm-trees.</p> - -<p>She was looking timidly and wonderingly at the mean iron-roofed houses -that line the beach, for the cunning Franz had crammed her flaxen head -with pictures of South Sea splendour, in which Neiafu appeared as a -city, and Franz himself as a benevolent planter of great possessions. -Of her future home Franz had been reticent, but she had formed a -mental picture of a mansion she had seen in a printseller’s window in -the <i>Unter den Linden</i>, all colonnades, and cool palms, and haunted -by numbers of dusky servants. The city must be farther inland, she -thought, as they passed up the beach. They were opposite a tumble-down -wooden house, larger than the rest. It might be, she thought, a small -<i>wirthhaus</i>, where they drank beer in the back garden. She timidly -asked Franz. “It’s the king’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> house,” he answered roughly. Surely he -must be joking, for he had told her so much about the king’s palace, -and the soldiers, and the rest of it. Yes; certainly Franz must be -joking, for her great strong Franz could make jokes sometimes.</p> - -<p>A few steps more, and Franz stopped—stopped at the meanest hovel of -them all,—a rickety wooden cottage, with iron roof, perched above the -sea, without even a tree to give shade or a fence to hide its ugly -squalor from the road. Telling her to wait, he went to the next cottage -and returned with a key. She was speechless with astonishment and a -vague fear. The door swung back, and he beckoned her to follow. Within -was a damp, ill-smelling, little shop, with dirty stained counter, -and shelves tenanted only by a few rusty tins of meat. Beyond this a -small unceiled room, furnished with a bare deal-table, and dirty like -the shop; and beyond this again a room containing a canvas stretcher, -overhung by a rotting mosquito-screen. That was all, and the all was -pervaded by the sickening rancid smell of <i>copra</i>, and unspeakably -dirty. The windows showed a large iron shed in which <i>copra</i>, the -currency of the country, was stored. This was the home he had brought -her to!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> And away there in Berlin her father, the stationer, was still -boasting of the brilliant marriage she had made.</p> - -<p>It took two days for Franz to appear in his usual oily shirt-sleeves at -the counter, and he did not respond to the inquiries about his wife. -Thenceforth she became a person of mystery, for she was not seen at -all for two months; and when she did leave the house, there were lines -about the meaningless mouth, and the blue eyes were dull and red. Franz -now ventured on his first social entertainment. The guests were bidden, -and Franz, in a clean shirt, received them in the sitting-room,—nine -in all, including the two ladies of the place. There was an awkward -pause, for Frau Kraft had not appeared. Then Franz went into the -bedroom to bring their hostess. There was a whispered altercation, then -silence, then a burst of sobbing—and before he returned his guests had -all fled. Not even the faithful Müller stayed to break the square black -bottle that was to have been the gist of the entertainment. Scandal was -now satisfied, for it was evident that Franz did not get on with his -wife, and was not above striking her.</p> - -<p>But the <i>copra</i> season had begun, and Kraft, if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> would live, must -buy <i>copra</i> like the rest. Early one morning he started with his -wife for Halaufuli, where Fisher, a friendly rival, had a station. -Fisher’s house adjoined John Mason’s modest establishment. The Krafts -were given the only bedroom in the house—a long low room, in which -a platform filling up the end and covered with a pile of mats and a -mosquito-screen formed the bed.</p> - -<p>When Mason, the man who could not beat his wife, steered an oblique -course towards his door, stumbled in, and, being a little less drunk -than usual, succeeded in finding his walking-stick, he was at that -stage of inebriation when the punishment of somebody for something -seems to a man a solemn and sacred duty. Unluckily poor Finau had -heard him coming, and ran to his rescue. He fell upon her savagely. -Her shrieks broke through the wooden walls, and interwove themselves -with Kraft’s dreams. Suddenly he hears his own name, and starts from -his sleep to listen to a voice he knows crying in an agony of need. It -is Finau calling to him, and without thinking where he is, he springs -up to go to her rescue. A blow or two directed by the dim light of the -kerosene lamp disposes effectually of Mason,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> and Franz, furious with -anger, yet not knowing what to do, creeps back to his room. His wife -is still asleep, as he can hear by her regular breathing; but Finau -has followed him, and whimpering she creeps into the room, and leans -sobbing against the wall. What could he do—this man who has so injured -her? She had loved him and suffered for him. Was he to cast her out -when she came to him in her need? And what harm was there in protecting -her? He whispers to her not to be afraid and to stop crying, but she -only sinks to the ground and sobs the louder. When he speaks again she -creeps towards him, as if in bodily fear of the man who has been left -outside the door. Franz looks at the screen: his wife still sleeps. And -so he speaks to her in a low voice, and strokes her bowed head, and -she, in the abandonment of her wretchedness, puts her arm round him. -And as he murmurs comforting words to her in her own tongue, he chances -to look towards the bed where the dim light is burning, and as he looks -there is a movement, a hand from within lifts up the screen, and eyes -with a life’s tragedy written in them look out at him.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> - -<h2>IN THE OLD WHALING DAYS.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>In those days, sir, there were no white men, living on Kandavu, but -many whaling-ships used to come and lie at anchor for months at a time. -Run away? Why, the crews always ran away. We used to persuade them -to run away by means of our women, and then we caught them, and tied -their hands, and hid them in the forest until a reward was paid by -the captain—a musket sometimes, and many knives and axes. They were -not white men like you, sir, but they had dark skins like the Indian -interpreter, and came from a land called “Portugee.” These men were -very wicked; but there were others with them with blacker skins who -were less wicked: their place was only to serve the rest and prepare -food. Yes, some of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> us used to sail away with them—some from curiosity -because they wished to see other lands, and others because the chiefs -sent them, being persuaded with great rewards.</p> - -<p>It was with Captain Aneli that I first sailed. We went hence to -Vatulele, my mother’s island, and lay there several weeks, helping the -Vunisalevu against Korolamalama, by lending him muskets and powder, -and by sailing round to the rocky point, where we shot many as they -fled from their enemies on the land. Ah, the captain was a good man, -and the Vunisalevu loved him well! No; he asked for no reward, but -did this out of his great love for the Vunisalevu, whose brother the -people of Korolamalama had killed. You may see the site of the town -away here among the caves at the western point; but do not go there, -sir, at night or alone, for the spirits that dwell there hate white men -as they hate us. The people are all gone, except the women, of whom my -mother was one, for they were more numerous than we; and when Captain -Aneli would go, the Vunisalevu strove to detain him, lest, when he was -gone, they should take their revenge. But the white man was wise, and -imparted to us his Wisdom, saying, “Invite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> them to a feast and slay -them;” and the Vunisalevu, knowing that conquerors do not make feasts -for the conquered, sent a messenger bidding them plant bananas for -him. But they were afraid, and answered that they would send all their -bananas and yams rather than come themselves, and with their answer was -brought a whale’s-tooth to turn the chief’s heart. But he refused the -tooth, and sent again, saying that it was not meet to suspect plots in -time of peace, and that he would pledge their safety, for they might -come armed while he and his people would be without weapons, but would -peacefully bring up the feast as hosts should do to guests.</p> - -<p>And when the appointed day came, the captain pitied him, and landed -thirty men, who hid among the bushes where you see those <i>ivi</i>-trees, -and the Korolamalama men came, two hundred strong, each with his -bundle of young banana-shoots, his spear in his left hand, and his -throwing-club in his girdle. None were left behind, for they feared -lest, if they were divided, we might attack them. As for us, we were -hidden in the undergrowth along the path, our arms hidden near us where -we could find them; and for the feast we had brought a rotten <i>taro</i> -each in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> derision of our enemies, who were to die that day. We would -have set on them at once, but the white men said, “Not so, let them -first plant your bananas, so that they be wearied, and you will have -made use of them as long as they can be useful.” This wise counsel -pleased us; so we waited, and even came unarmed to look at the men -as they sweated beneath the sun, digging the holes and stamping the -earth round the shoots, each man with his spear stuck in the ground -behind him: and as we watched we saw that, when a man moved on to dig a -fresh hole, he first moved his weapon to the new place. And as the sun -dipped towards the west, slanting the black shadows of the <i>ivi</i>-trees -across the clearing, we went for our <i>taro</i> and heaped it ceremoniously -beneath the shade of the trees, and sat down to present it to them. And -they, seeing us unarmed, were ashamed to bring their spears with them, -for it is forbidden by our customs to receive the feast with arms. So -they left their spears, each man where he had been digging, and came -and sat before us. And while they sat with their backs to the clearing, -the boys crept among the newly planted bananas as if playing, and took -their spears, heaping dead grass upon them so that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> could not be -seen. Then Mavua the herald took a decayed root of <i>yangona</i>, and going -forward, presented it and the feast in the customary words, and their -herald came forward to touch the feast. But when he took the root and -saw that it was rotten, and touched the <i>taro</i> and knew that it was -decayed, he was speechless a moment in fear and anger, for the insult -was very gross. Then he leapt to his feet, crying, “A plot! a plot! we -are undone to-day.” And they sprang up to go for their spears. But we -had snatched up ours already, and were upon them, stabbing and spearing -them as they dodged among the bananas looking for their spears.</p> - -<p>But when they saw that they were gone, the herald uttered a great and -bitter cry, cursing us and bidding them follow him, and he ran for the -forest towards the west where Korolamalama lies; but there he met the -white men, and from the tree came the thunder of the muskets and the -bark of the little guns, and cries, and evil words, and a thick smoke, -while we lay on our faces in the clearing hearing the bullets scream -over our heads. And when some of them ran back to escape the guns, we -stabbed at them, smiting some, and driving some back again to the white -men,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> so that when all was done, only one was left alive of them all, -and he, being found hiding in a water-hole, was dragged out and led to -the beach among the boys, and Uluisau held his arms while the boys beat -him to death with their toy clubs.</p> - -<p>Then the bodies were dragged to the town. To be eaten? How should I -know, when I was sent with the others to Korolamalama to fetch the -women and children? And when we neared the place they thought that we -were their own men returning from the banana-planting, and they came -out to meet us. But the two who saw us first ran shrieking to the -others, and Butho, he who held the basin at the missionary collection -last Sunday, followed close after them, making signs to us to keep -unseen. And he deceived the women, saying that their chief had sent -him to bid them bring crabs and yams to him in the plantation (for -they had just come from fishing on the reef). But they, still doubting -him, half followed and half held back, until they reached the thicket -where we lay. Then Amori, whose husband we had slain, raised a great -uproar, crying to the others to flee, for there was treachery; and -they scattered into the bush, screaming like a flock of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> paroquets. -But Butho, who feared nothing, flung his <i>ula</i> at the woman Amori and -struck her on the back so that she fell on her face, and he slew her -with his club where she lay, and we others pursued the women, striking -down the elderly, who made the greatest uproar, and saving the young -girls alive. These we led with the children to the Vunisalevu.</p> - -<p>Did they weep? No; they dared not weep, for Butho, the fearless, -who led us, told them that she who first wept aloud should die; and -thereafter, when Ina, the daughter of Naikele, lifted up her voice, he -struck her on the mouth with his short throwing-club. Ah! she was never -called “Ina the beautiful” more, for her teeth were all broken, and -her nose crushed, so that no man desired her as before, and she became -a kitchen-woman, and carried firewood for the chief’s kitchen all her -days. So the women feared to weep aloud lest Ina’s fate should befall -them.</p> - -<div class="center" id="i178.jpg"><img src="images/i178.jpg" alt="Nothing now remains of Korolamalama" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>Nothing now remains of Korolamalama but the name and a -few mounds.</i>”</p> - -<p>Ah, it was a great victory! Nothing now remains of Korolamalama but -the name and a few mounds. Therefore the Vunisalevu was very glad, -knowing that the right was triumphant, and that vengeance could -never come again from Korolamalama. The white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> man? Oh, he was very -grateful to them of course, for they had helped him out of their great -love for him, and they asked for no reward, nor would they take one -when it was offered to them—neither oil, nor mats, nor timber, nor -anything of value. The captain was a good man, not like the white men -of this day, who will cheat their own fathers for the sake of gain, -but a generous man and a right-doer. His crew, perhaps, were wicked -men, for they swore much and fought among themselves, so that we all -feared them. What? How many times must I tell you that the captain -wanted no reward? Nay, more, for as the women of Korolamalama were -many, and food was scarce at the time, he offered to take some away; -and the chief bade him come and choose from among them, and he came -at night with four of his sailors. And all the women were brought to -the chief’s house trembling, for they thought that evil was to befall -them as the others. And the captain took a lantern and held it in the -face of each in turn, taking hold of any that shrank back. And when he -had seen all, he pointed to Sili and to Manana and to Latia, as the -three whom he had chosen. And we were all surprised, for we thought -that he would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> chosen strong women who would work; but those he -had pointed to were young maidens, children, and useless for work. The -first two were the daughters of the woman Kurulawa, who stood by, and -of low rank, but Latia was a chief’s daughter, and beautiful. But when -the Vunisalevu told them they were to go with the white man, and the -sailors came to take them, they cried aloud to the men to save them, -and the other women caught them in their arms and wept, so that there -was a very great uproar. But the sailors shook them all off except the -woman Kurulawa, and her they struck, so that she fell upon the mats. -Then they bound the hands of the three girls with ropes, and put pieces -of wood in their mouths, and so stopped their cries—for one could not -hear the other speak for the noise they made when they knew that the -white men would take them.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>I wonder where those women are now, if they be still alive! They were -not on board when Captain Aneli came back the next year, and I forgot -to ask him about them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>Ah, the white men of that day were braver than the white men who live -among us now—be not angry, sir, if I say this—and Captain Aneli was -the bravest of them all! Many great deeds he did in these seas besides -the burning of Korolamalama and the slaughter of its people. I sailed -eighteen months with him, and saw much fighting, not only upon the land -but upon the sea also—among ourselves who sailed together. But Captain -Aneli was fearless, and we all dreaded him after he slew the big white -man and the Portugee who rebelled against him, and had flogged the -Indian who prepared the food until he died. He loved me well, and gave -me great gifts, teaching me to shoot with the little gun, and bidding -me be always near him lest the evil-minded among the crew should again -rebel against him. But when we reached New Zealand, and had been at -anchor but two days, a man came from the shore and seized my captain, -binding his wrists with iron fastenings that snapped to like the lock -of a musket; and he was led away, shouting many evil words, and I saw -him no more. I know not why this was done, but the man must have been -one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> captain’s enemies and evil-minded, for he was a just man -and brave.</p> - -<p>And yet not all the captains of those days were like him, for there -were some who were faint-hearted, like the white men of to-day, who -think more of the love of women than of war, and whose hearts are -weakened like a missionary’s. With such a one did I sail as I will -relate.</p> - -<p>After the captain was taken away we left the ship and dispersed, each -going his own way; and I, with Tom the Manila man and others, drank -white men’s <i>yangona</i> in a house by the shore till we were intoxicated, -and there was fighting and much anger. I do not know what we did until -I awoke in the prison-house. Then I was taken before a chief, who -judged me and awarded my punishment. But a man who stood by asked me -whether I would sail with him if he released me from punishment, and -I, not knowing what would be my punishment by the laws of these white -men, and fearing to be flogged, besought him to set me free. So he -paid money to the judge, who thereupon looked with favour on him and -ordered me to be set at liberty. He was the captain of a two-masted -ship, about to sail to the lands of these seas to exchange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> cloth and -knives and axes for oil and the weapons of the place. And on the day -we hove the anchor a white woman came on board, who was his wife, and -sailed with him. He was a good man, this captain, but his mind was -like a missionary’s, and he was not skilled in the ways of the sea. He -had a large Bible which he was always reading in the cabin, while the -woman lay sick in her bunk; and he often said to me—for by this time I -had begun to understand his talk—“This is my compass and my anchor.” -And once when he said this the mate was near, who, being a godless man -but a good sailor, said, so that the captain might hear, “It would be -better for the ship if he steered by the compass on board.”</p> - -<p>Now the crew were like other white sailors, evil-minded, and lovers -of forbidden words and strong drink. And even when there was no drink -they would fight among themselves, but they all feared the mate, who, -when giving orders, spoke but once, and instead of a second word -smote, sometimes with a belaying-pin but oftenest with his naked fist, -and that was the worst, for his arm was thick and knotted as yon -<i>dilo</i>-tree, and with his fist he could have split this rock. But me he -did not smite, because I honoured him and did his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>bidding cheerfully; -nay, he even loved me, both for this and because my skin was black and -I was a stranger, helpless, and without friends. He was a good sailor -this mate, and often in the night when I was in his watch he would -tell me stories of his cruises in the whale-ships, and I would tell -him tales of blood from my own land. But he never spoke of the sea -without contemptuous words towards the captain, whom he held to be no -sailor but a missionary, accursed among sailors, and less than a man. -He despised him, too, that he sailed with a woman, not being like the -mate and other good sailors, who held women as fit only for the shore, -and had a wife at every port to which they sailed. And I, too, hearing -this, despised the captain in my heart, most of all when I saw how he -subjected himself to the woman, as no man should do, and tended her as -only slaves and low-born do, and they unwillingly. But for all this he -was kind to me and did me many services, giving me from the cabin food -in tin boxes, such as none other in the ship might taste but he and the -woman.</p> - -<p>All this time we were sailing northwards, the wind being south-east but -light. And the air grew warm, and the spirit-light flashed in our wake -at night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> and the flying-fish, the birds of Nukuloa, took wing under -our bows, and my heart grew light in the warm air, for I knew we were -approaching my own land where only it is fit for man to live. We had -left behind us the bitter winds that chill the marrow, and the sterile -palmless shores, where men hurry ceaselessly to and fro, never resting -but toiling ever, and the heart is filled with darkness and disgust of -life and a great longing for rest. But though my heart was glad because -I should soon be in that sweet land and see the green yam-vines, -graceful as fair women in the dance, the captain became sorrowful, for -the woman whom he tended was now sick, and for many days we had not -seen her face, though we knew by his looks day by day that she grew -worse.</p> - -<p>And on the day when the sea-birds first circled the ship, the wind -being still fair but falling light, the mate ordered the sailor they -called Bill—him with the red beard—to go aloft and shake out the -topsail, which was furled; but he not moving quickly, but with murmurs -and unwillingly, the mate spoke angrily to him, saying, “Goddam!” -many times, and other evil words. Then the sailor turned back and -struck the mate, calling upon the others to come and help him;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> for he -was a sort of leader among them, through his quarrelsome nature and -unwillingness to render due obedience to his chiefs. But the others -stood as if uncertain, wishing to slay the mate, and yet afraid. And -as he continued calling upon them, two of the crew joined him, and -drove the mate against the cook-house, where he stood striking at them, -for he was very strong. Then Bill took the cook’s axe that stood near -and lifted it to strike, and I ran to help the mate, whom I loved. -But before I could reach him another passed me very swiftly and flung -himself upon Bill, as a falcon seizes a <i>sese</i>, and strove with him -a moment till both fell heavily upon the deck and rolled, so that -Bill was underneath straining for breath, as the other had him by the -throat. Then I wondered greatly, for I saw that he who had done this -was the captain, whose body was thin and light like the body of a cat, -and Bill was like a <i>bulumokau</i> for bulk. And when the two others saw -what had befallen Bill they retreated towards the forecastle; but the -mate followed them, striking them with his fists so that they went -down the hatchway as a man who dives for turtle, their feet following -them. But when we turned back the captain was gone to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> cabin, and -Bill was still lying on the deck gasping for breath. And that night -when it was my watch the mate came and sat with me near the wheel, for -the night was clear and calm, and I was steering. He did not speak -contemptuously of the captain, but wonderingly, as if he had suddenly -become another whom he did not know. And while we still talked a sound -came through the cabin skylight near us as of a woman’s voice, and of a -man weeping. And then the weeping of the man drowned the voice of the -woman, which was weak, and we both knew it for the captain’s voice, -and the mate got up and went forward saying no word. But my heart was -filled with a great contempt for the captain, since I hold it great -shame for a man to weep. And a little later the wind died away, and the -sails struck the mast with a noise like musketry, and then filled and -struck again with the breath of the dying wind, and then hung loose -from the yards as dead vines hang from the limbs of the <i>damanu</i>-tree; -for even the swell was calm, so that both the air and the restless sea -were dead, and the ship lay under the stars as still as a canoe left -on the sands by the ebbing tide. And when the bell had struck one, and -the dawn was near, I lay upon the hatchway wishing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> for sleep. And -suddenly there was a terrible cry, so that we all started up asking -ourselves whence it came and what it meant, for it was not the voice -of a man but of some fierce animal. Then it came again, and we knew -that it came from the cabin, and was the captain’s voice, but changed -as the voice of a man whose senses have left him. And when it came a -third time the mate said that the woman must be dead, for the captain’s -voice was changed by grief, and he was calling the name of the woman, -who would never answer him more. But after the third time the cry did -not come again, but only a low moaning, continuously, as I have heard a -man make after the battle when he has been clubbed, but his senses have -returned to him, and he knows that they who are taking him are heating -the oven for his body. And when the sun rose no wind came to fill the -sails and cool the air. And beside the ship lay her image, complete to -the last rope, as clear as in those glasses the traders sell to the -women. And as the sun rose higher the sky turned to iron, and the sea -threw back the brightness so that it burned the eyes; and the pitch -grew wet in the seams and scorched the bare feet, gluing them to the -deck. And we lay under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> shadow of the masts and sails panting for -breath. Only the sailmaker worked, making a hammock for the body of the -woman. And all the while the moaning in the cabin never ceased, even -for a moment. And when the sun was overhead, all things being prepared, -the mate went to the cabin with the sailmaker. And we heard blows upon -the cabin-door, and the captain was loudly called; but however loudly -they knocked or called, when they ceased they still heard the moaning, -mingled with broken words. So the mate came to us again, saying that he -would wait until eight bells, and then force the door, for the weather -was hot and the matter could not be delayed. But when eight bells were -struck, the moaning still continuing, the mate called me, and I took -the hammock and followed him down the companion. And the mate called -loudly and struck upon the door. Then we listened and heard the voice -as of one who sleeps and dreams evil dreams. Then stepping back, the -mate ran upon the door, striking it heavily with his shoulder, and the -door burst in, and the mate fell forward with the door into the cabin. -And I, looking in, saw a foolish sight, for the captain was sitting -on the floor of the cabin and had the body<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> of the woman clasped in -his arms as a mother holds her suckling child. And the woman was an -ill sight, for she was axe-faced, like all the white women, and the -flesh had left her face in her sickness, and being dead the eyes stared -upward and the jaw had fallen. Yet for all this the captain, not seeing -us, kissed the dead face as is the white man’s fashion with the lips, -and moaned unceasingly. Then the mate touched him and spoke, but he -seemed not to know him, and his eyes became fierce, and he cried to -us to leave him. Seeing that we could do nothing without using force, -we left him for that night. But when the morning came and there was -still no wind, the mate again bade me follow him, and called to him -also the carpenter and the boatswain, and we four entered the cabin and -found him sitting as before, only quieter, but the woman’s face was -much changed. And the mate spoke brave words to the captain, bidding -him have courage and allow the woman’s body to be buried. And when he -understood why we had come, and saw the hammock, he became like a wild -sow who is wounded with a spear and turns to protect her young ones. -Even so he turned to defend the body of the woman. But the mate seized -him, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> with the help of the carpenter, held him fast, while we -dragged the body from him. But so changed was it that it would not go -into the hammock. So we carried it on deck out of his sight, while he -struggled with the others, and the sailmaker ripped the hammock and -sewed it up in haste, enclosing a shot at the feet. And when all was -ready we carried it amidships and laid it on a grating, with a flag -over it, and the mate nailed up the captain’s door lest he should do -some fearful thing. Then the mate said some sacred words,—not many, -for he could remember only a few,—and the men, being impatient lest -ill-luck should befall the ship, threw up the grating and the body -splashed into the sea, breaking the image of the ship into a thousand -pieces. But scarcely had it sunk when it sprang up again as if alive, -and most of the sailors fled in fear thinking it to be alive. But the -mate, knowing the cause, cried that the shot was not heavy enough -seeing that the body was much swollen. He shouted to us to pierce the -hammock quickly to make the body sink. So a boat was lowered, and as -no other would do it, I was sent with a sharp boat-hook to pierce the -hammock. Now the body had drifted a few fathoms from the ship,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> and -still danced up and down upright and immersed from the waist downwards. -And as the boat drew near, and I stood up in the bows, I thought I saw -the axe-face grinning at me through the canvas, and drawing away from -me, so that I almost feared to strike lest it still lived. Then one of -the sailors in the boat cried, “It is alive and will drown us!” and -I held my hand in terror lest I should strike a live woman. But the -mate cried from the ship, “Strike!” and I turned and saw that the ship -was turning so that we were nearly opposite the cabin window, and the -mate and all the sailors were beckoning to me to strike quickly. Then -courage came to me, and standing up in the boat I struck at the woman -with the boat-hook as a man strikes at his enemy with a spear, but as -I struck, the woman only danced up and down the more, rocking to and -fro, so that I could not strike hard to pierce the canvas. Then one of -the men in the boat laughed to see the woman dance up and down so, and -I laughed too, so that my arm became weak. But the mate cried to me -again, and I balanced myself as a harpooner does before he strikes the -whale, and as I balanced the boat-hook I turned and saw that the ship -had swung so that we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> opposite the cabin windows. Then with all my -force I threw the boat-hook into the soft body and drew it out again....</p> - -<p>But as I struck there came a great and terrible cry from the ship, -and I turned and saw the captain’s face at the window waving bleeding -hands to me; for with his hands he had beaten out the thick glass, and -he strove to force his body through but could not. Then he cried aloud -again, such a cry as once I heard a man utter at Serua whom we had -trapped in a cave whence there was no escape, and then his head fell -forward and he was still. And the woman’s body which I had pierced sank -slowly beneath the sea. But when they lifted the captain they found -that he was dead, though his body had sustained no hurt.</p> - -<p>Now I think that this white man was the most foolish of all the white -men in the world, for though white men commit great foolishness for the -sake of women, because of their beauty, yet none are so foolish as to -desire their dead bodies, and this woman was not beautiful even when -she lived, for she was axe-faced.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE FIERY FURNACE.</h2> - -<p>Of the ancient Fijian ceremonies few now survive. The early -missionaries are unjustly charged with bigotry and Philistinism, in -having waged war on all native ceremonial connected, however remotely, -with their heathen creeds. But the Wesleyan missionaries were before -all things practical, and knew that if Christianity was to take root at -all it must have bare soil, from which every weed had been carefully -torn up; for savage converts have an easy-going tendency towards -engrafting Christianity upon their old beliefs,—in discovering that -Jehovah is only another name for Krishna or Ndengei, and that the -ritual that pleased the one cannot be unacceptable to the other.</p> - -<p>But in one corner of Fiji, the island of Mbengga, a curious observance -of mythological origin has escaped the general destruction, probably -because the worthy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> iconoclasts had never heard of it. Once every year -the <i>masáwe</i>, a dracæna that grows in profusion on the grassy hillsides -of the island, becomes fit to yield the sugar of which its fibrous root -is full. To render it fit to eat, the roots must be baked among hot -stones for four days. A great pit is dug, and filled with large stones -and blazing logs, and when these have burned down, and the stones are -at white heat, the oven is ready for the <i>masáwe</i>. It is at this stage -that the clan Na Ivilankata, favoured of the gods, is called on to -“leap into the oven” (<i>rikata na lovo</i>), and walk unharmed upon the hot -stones that would scorch and wither the feet of any but the descendants -of the dauntless Tui Nkualita. Twice only had Europeans been fortunate -enough to see the <i>masáwe</i> cooked, and so marvellous had been the tales -they told, and so cynical the scepticism with which they had been -received, that nothing short of another performance before witnesses -and the photographic camera would have satisfied the average “old hand.”</p> - -<p>As we steamed up to the chief’s village of Waisoma, a cloud of blue -smoke rolling up among the palms told us that the fire was newly -lighted. We found a shallow pit, nineteen feet wide, dug in the sandy -soil, a stone’s throw from high-water mark, in a small clearing among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> -the cocoa-nuts between the beach and the dense forest. The pit was -piled high with great blazing logs and round stones the size of a -man’s head. Mingled with the crackling roar of the fire were loud -reports as splinters flew off from the stones, warning us to guard -our eyes. A number of men were dragging up more logs and rolling them -into the blaze, while, above all, on the very brink of the fiery pit, -stood Jonathan Dambea, directing the proceedings with an air of noble -calm. As the stones would not be hot enough for four hours, there was -ample time to hear the tradition that warrants the observance of the -strange ceremony we were to see; and so seated on the spotless mats -in Jonathan’s house, I listened while a grey-headed elder told me the -story, pausing only to ask his fellows to corroborate, or to supply -some incident that had slipped his memory.</p> - -<p>“On an evening,” he said, “very long ago, the men of Navakaisese had -collected in their sleeping-house for the night. Now the name of that -house was Nakauyema. And they were telling stories, each trying to -surpass the other in the story that he told. And one of them, whose -name I have forgotten, called upon each to name the reward (<i>nambu</i>) -he would give him for the story he was about to tell; for it is our -custom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> thus to encourage a good story-teller, each one bringing to -him on the morrow the <i>nambu</i> he has promised. And some promised one -thing and some another. But Tui Nkualita, a chief and warrior of the Na -Ivilankata clan, cried ‘My <i>nambu</i> shall be an eel!’ Then the story was -told, and the night passed. And on the morrow Tui Nkualita remembered -the spring called Namoliwai, that he had seen a large eel in it. And -when he came to it, and, kneeling on the brink, plunged his hand into -it, he could not feel the bottom though the water reached his shoulder, -for the pool was deeper than formerly; and he reached yet farther down, -following the rocky hole with his hand, and he touched something. He -drew it out, and saw that it was a child’s cradle-mat. Then, wondering -greatly, he plunged his arm into the pool, and reached yet farther -down, and touched something. And as he felt it, he knew it for the -fingers of a man. ‘Whoever this may be,’ he said within himself, ‘he -shall be my <i>nambu</i>.’ And he plunged half his body into the water, -feeling with his hand until he touched a man’s head. Then grasping the -hair he dragged it upwards, and planting his feet firmly, he drew forth -the body of a man, and held it fast on the brink of the spring. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘Whoever you are,’ he cried, ‘you shall be my <i>nambu</i>.’</p> - -<p>“‘You must save me,’ answered the man, ‘for I am a chief, and have a -village of my own, and many others who pay tribute to me.’</p> - -<p>“‘What is your name?’</p> - -<p>“‘Tui na Moliwai (chief of Moliwai).’</p> - -<p>“‘I know all the chiefs of Mbengga, and many also on the mainland, but -I never heard of Tui na Moliwai. I only know that you must come with me -and be my <i>nambu</i>.’</p> - -<p>“‘Have pity on me, and let me live.’</p> - -<p>“‘Let you live? Why, of what use will you be to me alive?’</p> - -<p>“‘I will be your guardian spirit in war.’</p> - -<p>“‘No. Mbengga is small, and I am mightier than all others in war.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then I will be your god of safe voyages.’</p> - -<p>“‘I am no sailor. My home is the land, and I hate the sea.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then let me help you on the <i>tinka</i>-ground.’</p> - -<p>“‘When the game is played my lance flies truer and stronger than them -all.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then I will make you beloved of women.’ </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘I have a wife who loves me, and I want no other. What else?’</p> - -<p>“‘Then I will do more than all these. You shall pass unharmed through -fire.’</p> - -<p>“‘If you can do that I may spare you; but if you fail you shall be my -<i>nambu</i>.’</p> - -<p>“Then the god gathered brushwood together, and piled it with stones in -a little hollow, and made fire, and lighted it, and they sat down to -wait until the stones grew hot. And when the wood had burned to ashes, -and the stones were red with heat, the god rose and took Tui Nkualita -by the hand, saying, ‘Come, let us go into the oven.’</p> - -<p>“‘What! And be roasted while living?’</p> - -<p>“‘Nay,’ returned the god, ‘I would not return evil for good. It shall -not burn you.’</p> - -<p>“Then Tui Nkualita took his hand, and lay on the hot stones, finding -them cool and pleasant to his body.</p> - -<p>“And Tui na Moliwai said, ‘You shall stay four days in the oven, and be -unhurt.’</p> - -<p>“‘Four days! And who shall find food for my wife and children while I -am there? No! Let me only pass through the fire as I have done, and -come out unharmed. I ask no more than this.’ </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘It is well. This gift shall be yours and your descendants’ for ever. -Whether you stay here or go to other countries, this power shall remain -with you.’</p> - -<p>“So Tui Nkualita let Tui na Moliwai go alive, and returned to his home -at Navakaisese, telling no one what had befallen him. But on the day -when masáwe was cooked at Wakanisalato, and the oven was heated, Tui -Nkualita rose and sprang into the great pit, trampling the burning -stones unharmed, and treading down the green leaves as they were thrown -to line the oven, so that he was hidden in the steam. And the people -raised a great shout, wondering much when they saw him come out alive -and unharmed. Thus it came about that whenever <i>masáwe</i> is cooked in -Mbengga, the people of Rukua and Sawau must first leap into the oven -to make the baking good; and if yams or other food were put into the -oven with the <i>masáwe</i>, they would be taken out at the end of four days -still raw.</p> - -<p>“Last year we went to a great feast at Rewa, and one of the Rewa chiefs -jested with us as we stood by the ovens, saying, ‘Come, leap into our -ovens, as you do into your own.’ And we told them that it is <i>tabu</i> to -say this of any oven but the <i>masáwe</i> oven, and that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> food in the -smoking-pits would not be cooked. And our words came true, for when the -ovens were dug they found the pig and the yams raw as they were put in.”</p> - -<div class="center" id="i202.jpg"><img src="images/i202.jpg" alt="When the wood was all out" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>When the wood was all out there remained a conical -pile of glowing stones.</i>”</p> - -<p>When we were at last summoned, the fire had been burning for more than -four hours. The pit was filled with a white-hot mass shooting out -little tongues of white flame, and throwing out a heat beside which the -scorching sun was a pleasant relief. A number of men were engaged with -long poles, to which a loop of thick vine had been attached, in noosing -the pieces of unburnt wood by twisting the pole, like a horse’s twitch, -until the loop was tight, and dragging the log out by main force. When -the wood was all out there remained a conical pile of glowing stones in -the middle of the pit. Ten men now drove the butts of green saplings -into the base of the pile, and held the upper end while a stout vine -was passed behind the row of saplings. A dozen men grasped each end -of the vine, and with loud shouts hauled with all their might. The -saplings, like the teeth of an enormous rake, tore through the pile of -stones, flattening them out towards the opposite edge of the pit. The -saplings were then driven in on the other side, and the stones raked -in the opposite direction, then sideways, until the bottom of the pit -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> covered with an even layer of hot stones. This process had taken -fully half an hour, but any doubt as to the heat of the stones at the -end was set at rest by the tongues of flame that played continually -among them. The cameras were hard at work, and a large crowd of people -pressed inwards towards the pit as the moment drew near. A Zanzibar -negro and his wife, drifted from heaven knows where, half-castes with -Samoan mothers, with Fijian mothers and unknown fathers, mingled with -the crowd of natives from the neighbouring mainland. They were all -excited except Jonathan, who preserved, even in the supreme moment, -the air of holy calm that never leaves his face. All eyes are fixed -expectant on the dense bush behind the clearing, whence the Shadrachs, -Meshachs, and Abednegos of the Pacific are to emerge. There is a cry -of “<i>Vutu! Vutu!</i>” and forth from the bush, two and two, march fifteen -men, dressed in garlands and fringes. They tramp straight to the brink -of the pit. The leading pair show something like fear in their faces, -but do not pause, perhaps because the rest would force them to move -forward. They step down upon the stones and continue their march round -the pit, planting their feet squarely and firmly on each stone. The -cameras snap,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> the crowd surges forward, the bystanders fling in great -bundles of green leaves. But the bundles strike the last man of the -procession and cut him off from his fellows; so he stays where he is, -trampling down the leaves as they are thrown to line the pit, in a -dense cloud of steam from the boiling sap. The rest leap back to his -assistance, shouting and trampling, and the pit turns into the mouth of -an Inferno, filled with dusky frenzied fiends, half seen through the -dense volume that rolls up to heaven and darkens the sunlight. After -the leaves, palm-leaf baskets of the dracæna root are flung to them, -more leaves, and then bystanders and every one joins in shovelling -earth over all till the pit is gone, and a smoking mound of fresh -earth takes its place. This will keep hot for four days, and then the -<i>masáwe</i> will be cooked.</p> - -<p>As the procession had filed up to the pit, by a preconcerted -arrangement with the noble Jonathan, a large stone had been hooked -out of the pit to the feet of one of the party, who poised a -pocket-handkerchief over it, and dropped it lightly upon the stone when -the first man leaped into the oven, and snatched what remained of it -up as the last left the stones. During the fifteen or twenty seconds -it lay there every fold that touched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the stone was charred, and the -rest of it scorched yellow. So the stones were not cool. We caught four -or five of the performers as they came out, and closely examined their -feet. They were cool, and showed no trace of scorching, nor were their -anklets of dried tree-fern leaf burnt. This, Jonathan explained, is -part of the miracle; for dried tree-fern is as combustible as tinder, -and there were flames shooting out among the stones. Sceptics had -affirmed that the skin of a Fijian’s foot being a quarter of an inch -thick, he would not feel a burn. Whether this be true or not of the -ball and heel, the instep is covered with skin no thicker than our own, -and we saw the men plant their insteps fairly on the stone. Clearly -eternity can have no terrors for these simple natives.</p> - -<p>I think that most of the sceptics were impressed. Even the skipper -of the steamer, who was once a conjurer, and ate fire at a variety -entertainment, said it was “very fair for niggers,” but darkly hinted -that he could improve upon it.</p> - -<p>Seated by a bowl of <i>kava</i> and a candle stuck in a bottle-neck, -Jonathan underwent my cross-examination with calm good-humour. Why were -the young men afraid? Because only five of the fifteen had ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> passed -through the fire before. The regular performers were elderly men, and -they had reflected upon our distinguished rank, and the rumour that -picture-machines would be brought, and selected good-looking youths -rather than ugly old men. The handkerchief was burned? Well, if it had -been thrown into the middle of the pit, instead of upon an isolated -stone, it would not have been even singed, for the linen being of -human manufacture would share the god’s gift to men. Would a strange -man share the gift? Certainly, if he went with one of the tribe. If I -had told him my wishes sooner he would have taken me in barefooted, -and I should have found the stones cool and pleasant. Yes, it was true -that one of the men had nearly fallen, but the others ran to hold him -up. Would he have been burnt if he had fallen? He thought not. Then -why were the people so anxious to save him from falling? Well—they -remembered a man who fell many years ago, and yes—he certainly was -burnt on the shoulders and side, but a wise man patted the burns, -and they dried up and ceased paining him. Any trick? Here Jonathan’s -ample face shrunk smaller, and a shadow passed over his candid eye. -“If there had been any trick it would have come to light long ago. The -whole world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> would know. Perhaps I do not believe the story of Tui na -Moliwai, but I do believe that my tribe has been given to pass unharmed -through the fire.” Oh, wily Jonathan!</p> - -<p>Perhaps the Na Ivilankata clan have no secret, and there is nothing -wonderful in their performance, but, miracle or not, I am very glad I -saw it.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<h2>FRIENDSHIP.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>“Allen, come out! Hang it, man, it’s not before your time! Why, it’s -five o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“But the boss——”</p> - -<p>“Blow the boss! He didn’t buy your body and soul for eight-six-eight -a-month?”</p> - -<p>“But suppose I lose my billet——”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I want you for. Look here! Life’s not worth living at this -rate. If it wasn’t for my wife I’d have chucked it long ago, for I’m -sick to death of stocks and shares: there’s no excitement when you make -a hit, because you don’t win enough, and it’s no fun losing, because -you always lose too much.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. It’s all very well for you, Benion,—you can afford it; but if I -had half your money, I’d steer clear of specs. altogether.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No, you wouldn’t, my boy! The only fun of having money left one is to -try to make it grow. I expect you chuck some of your wretched screw -away betting on these beggarly races where every horse is run crooked.”</p> - -<p>“Why, how much do you suppose I have over after paying for my living?” -asked the younger man, indignantly.</p> - -<p>“I know, old chap. Can’t think how you manage to live on it as it is. -Now, look here! Can you keep your mouth shut?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t play the fool. I think you can,” said Benion, examining him -doubtfully. “I always liked your looks, or I shouldn’t want now to make -your fortune. I suppose you’d stick to me if I made your fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Better try!” laughed Allen.</p> - -<p>Benion, with a great air of mystery, drew him out of Macquarie Street -among the trees that grew in that part of Sydney which is now called -Hyde Park. When they were a hundred yards from any possible listener -he unburdened his soul in a hoarse whisper. “There will never be a -chance like this again. A schooner came in last night from Honolulu in -ballast, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> two chaps that own her talk of fitting her out for -a trading voyage in the islands—in a devil of a hurry too. There was -a lot of talk about it, and all sorts of yarns flying about, because -people going to the islands aren’t, as a rule, in a hurry, and don’t -mind being asked questions.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of looking chaps are they?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Yankees, I expect; but they are burnt as dark as niggers, and wear -red sashes round their waists with belts over them,—the rig they wear -in the islands, they say. Anyhow, when men want a shipload of goods -in a hurry, and do the mystery-man about where they’re going to, it’s -pretty clear that there’s money in it, and that they don’t want any one -else to get before them. But I mean to be before them.”</p> - -<p>“What——”</p> - -<p>“You’ve come here to listen and not to ask questions. If I let you into -this thing, which will be worked, mind, with my capital, what will you -give in return?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t give anything but my work.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly. Well, then, it’s this way. I’ll make you my partner on a -quarter share of all that’s made out of it; you on your side promise -to work all you know until we break partnership by mutual consent. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> -quarter share ought to make your fortune if we have luck; but when I -want a man to work I don’t believe in starving him. Now <i>will</i> you -work, and <i>will</i> you keep your mouth shut, and <i>will</i> you stick to me? -I don’t want any paper—your word will do.”</p> - -<p>“Of course I will, Benion. I’ll swear if you like.”</p> - -<p>“No. A man’s word is as good as his oath. If he breaks the one he’s -bound to break the other.”</p> - -<p>The two had come to a stand-still facing each other, but now Benion -took his companion’s arm, and began to walk rapidly away from the -houses.</p> - -<p>“This morning,” he went on, “I made friends with one of the schooner’s -crew. He was just going aboard, but when I talked of drinks he turned -back with me. The poor devil had been kept pretty short on board. He -wouldn’t talk at first, but put the liquor away until at last he got to -think I was his oldest friend. He’d deserted from a whaler in Honolulu, -and the owners of this schooner got him to sail on double wages at two -hours’ notice. ‘And all to trade in the islands?’ I said. ‘Islands, -be blowed!’ he said; ‘it’s something better than that!’ ‘Ah, well, I -wish you luck,’ I said, getting up as if to go; but he didn’t want to -move, and said, ‘And suppose it <i>was</i> trading—what then?’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> ‘Nothing,’ -I said. ‘Wal, do yer call <i>gold</i> nothing?’ he said, winking with one -of his wicked eyes. ‘Don’t come one of your sailor’s yarns over me,’ I -said. ‘It’s true, so help me,’ he answered; and then he looked round to -see that no one was listening, and leaned forward till I could scarcely -bear the smell of gin and tobacco-quid, and whispered, ‘They’ve found -gold in Californy, and they’re stuck up for all kinds of trade. The -ship that brought the news was leaking like a sieve, and my owners, as -keeps a store in Honolulu, bought this schooner and got a crew together -in less than a day, and we’re to fill up and get away to-day so as to -be the first in the field. If they gets a week’s start <i>they</i> won’t -have to keep store any more, ’cos bloomin’ nuggets of gold is the only -money they use over in Californy, and they can stick it on ’cos the -diggers is starving.’ ‘They’ll be getting stuff round from New York,’ I -said. ‘That’s what they’re scared of,’ he said, ‘only they think that -ships from New York are likelier to bring more diggers than stores.’</p> - -<p>“So then I made my friend as drunk as he could carry, and saw him down -to the quay, and I went off to find out what the owners had been up -to. I found out that they’d been to some of the wholesale houses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> -buying up tools and clothing and provisions, and I heard from Jakes -that they’d been inquiring for a timber-yard. Well, you know Hathaway’s -a friend of mine, and when I got to him I found sure enough that my -friends had been ordering timber, for a frame-house in the islands, -they said, but old Hathaway said there were doors and locks enough -for a prison. So I gave the old man the tip not to deliver the order -before the end of the week. Didn’t give any reasons, and he didn’t ask -any,—said it would be the devil’s own job anyway to get the stuff off -to-morrow as the island chaps wanted.”</p> - -<p>“Then are we going with them?” asked Allen.</p> - -<p>“Not much, my boy; we’re going without ’em.”</p> - -<p>“What! Take their vessel, d’you mean?” said the younger man, with open -mouth.</p> - -<p>“No. There are better vessels than theirs: just listen, and don’t -ask questions. After I’d seen Hathaway I went to Thorne. I’ve done a -goodish bit of business with him lately. Got him to give me a list -of vessels he has lying idle,—seven of them, a bark, two brigs, and -the rest schooners: told him a friend of mine wanted a fast boat for -the island trade, but the old chap ’d got wind o’ something and asked -me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> whether my friend was Mr Wilson of Honolulu. When he saw that I -wouldn’t be pumped he doubled the charter. But we came to terms. He -will let me have the Amaranth, the smartest thing in port, bark-rigged, -seven hundred tons register. She’s just discharged, and will be ready -for sea as soon as her cargo’s aboard. After that I went the round of -the wholesale houses. I know some one in each of them, and by a little -manœuvring I squared it to have my stuff delivered before Wilson’s. -Then I saw Hathaway again, and doubled Wilson’s order,—mine, of -course, to have preference. And, last of all, I engaged the Amaranth’s -skipper, and got him to pick up a crew to sign indentures this -afternoon,—not a bad day’s work!”</p> - -<p>Allen’s bewilderment had been growing at each sentence of his -companion’s story. “But what will it all cost?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Never you mind about that, my boy. You haven’t got to pay for it. If -we’re quick enough and keep our mouths shut your share ought to be more -than all this racket will cost me. Our only danger is a slow passage. -The whole town’s talking about the business, and even if we get away -before the Reindeer—Wilson’s schooner—the chances are that the thing -will leak out and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> whole town be after us. Now you go home and give -your boss notice, and come and breakfast with me to-morrow. We’ll go -on board in the morning and out with the afternoon ebb-tide, cleared -at the Customs for a trading voyage in the islands. Once outside the -Heads we can laugh at the Customs and everybody else, for nothing but a -steamer could catch us.”</p> - -<p>Allen found the Benion establishment in a state of disruption. A cart -was at the door, and his friend in his shirt-sleeves, none too clean, -was sitting on the lid of a box in the hall trying to snap the hasp.</p> - -<p>“Just in time, my boy,” he shouted; “just sit down here and save me -from breaking the Third Commandment again.”</p> - -<p>Mrs Benion, harassed and red-eyed, was bustling about breakfast. When -she had left them her husband whispered, “Talk as if we were coming -back in a couple of months. She don’t half like my going. Says she -dreamt she saw me in the water swimming for my life, and thinks she -won’t see me again, so we must let her down easy.”</p> - -<p>It was a miserable breakfast. The poor wife pretended that she had -a cold to disguise her tears, and Benion poured forth a flood of -artificial and forced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> gaiety that deceived no one. But it was over at -last, and Allen went out to the street-door to leave the man and wife -together. At last Benion pushed past him with his head down, saying, -“She wants to say good-bye to you, Allen; go in, like a good fellow, -and then follow me down.”</p> - -<p>He found the dining-room door open. She was standing near the table -repressing her sobs with evident effort. She looked him full in the -eyes. “You <i>will</i> take care of him,” she said passionately, “and not -let him run into danger,—he is so rash. I can trust you, for he has -been so good to you, hasn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I will, Mrs Benion; don’t be afraid. We’ll be back safe -enough with our fortunes made before you’ve had time to miss us.” And -he left her, hearing her first sob as he reached the door. Inwardly he -thanked the fates that he was not married, for he felt vaguely that -Benion was doing wrong in going. But of course he would come back -safely, or, if anything were to happen, he himself would never return -to Sydney to face the sorrow in that woman’s eyes.</p> - -<p>The Amaranth was taking in the last of her cargo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> when they boarded -her. She was full to the hatches, but a small deck-load of timber had -to be stowed before they weighed anchor. About three o’clock she ran -down to the Heads with the ebb-tide, and dropped her pilot before dark. -Once clear of the land, Benion was in the wildest spirits; for they -had at least a day’s start of the Reindeer, and they were a faster -vessel and a bigger one. After dinner the captain was taken into their -confidence; but the vision of gold-fields failed to tempt him, and -he became restive. He not unnaturally wanted to know why he had not -been told before. It was ten to one, he said, that his crew would -desert, and where was he to get another? But Benion was prepared for -this argument. If the gold-fields were good enough to make the crew -desert, they were probably better than captain’s wages. Besides, <i>he</i> -would be answerable to the owners. The crew had been got together -in a hurry, and as there had been no selection, there was more than -the usual proportion of grumblers. The wages were high, for it would -have taken more than a day to get a complement for a cruise among the -islands at the ordinary wages; but the islands were unpopular, and -the men were half-hearted. When Benion had argued the captain into -tacit acquiescence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> he suggested that the crew should be let into the -secret. “They’ve got to know it some time,” he said, “and why not now? -When they know about the gold they’ll be as keen about the voyage as we -are.”</p> - -<p>He was right. From the time the announcement was made the work of the -ship went like clockwork, and the voyage ended happily, and without any -more grumbling: for since the days of the Argonauts, gold, whether in -fleece or nugget, has ever had a powerful hold upon the imagination of -sailors.</p> - -<p>They made the land at sunrise. It was a perfect morning, fresh, but not -cold. Before them were two mountain-ranges separated by a valley which, -together with all the low-lying land, was filled with woolly vapour, -absolutely motionless, and so level that it looked like the waters of -a lake from which the mountain-tops emerged distinct in the clear air -like islands. Then the rising sun struck them and crept down their -sides in a flood of light till it touched the surface of the lake of -vapour, tinging it with gold; and, as if by magic, the whole lake was -set in motion, and rolled up the valley, where it was caught by the -sea-breeze and whirled in great convolutions into the higher air, where -it vanished. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> - -<p>They steered for two low promontories, upon one of which stood a -ruinous fort bearing the Mexican flag. As they neared it the swell -increased, for they were approaching the bar. The sea, so calm outside, -broke angrily upon a sunken reef on their left, but the flood-tide -helped them, and in a moment they were floating in calm water beyond -the fort, with a magnificent view before them,—a broad sheet of -water indented with coves and backed with pasture and woodland of the -brightest green. The foreshore was less beautiful, for the tide was -still low, and the beach was a waste of mud, from which a fetid steam -had begun to rise that set the landscape a-dance. They dropped anchor -between two barks that had every appearance of being deserted. Their -running-gear was hanging loose, their yards were braced all ways as for -a funeral, and their decks were littered with stores and rubbish as if -the crew had left them in haste. Stranded on the mud was the hull of a -schooner, her top-hamper touching the ground as she lay careened over. -On shore the only dwellings to be seen were some ruined walls, round -which a number of rough shanties of packing-cases, wreckage, and ships’ -copper were clustered, and beyond these some hundreds of tents gleamed -white in the morning sunlight from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> the fringe of forest trees. Such -was the city of San Francisco in 1849.</p> - -<p>Benion and Allen lost no time in going on shore. They stepped from -the boat into a crowd of the hangers-on of the gold-field,—surely -the strangest seething of humanity that the modern world can show! -There were men of every nation and shade of colour, of every grade -of society, of every creed and occupation, all flung together with -the burning fever of gold-hunting hot upon them. And there were -besides the ministers to their pleasures, their necessities, and -their vices: storekeepers, without stores to sell; faro-bank keepers; -saloon-keepers, cleared of their stock-in-trade; and the ministers to -yet lower vices. Hundreds of new arrivals, unprovided with the few -stores necessary to support life, and unable to buy at the famine -prices of the place, were still awaiting the arrival of a ship.</p> - -<p>As soon as it became known that Benion had brought stores he was set -upon by the storekeepers and liquor-sellers, but he had made a stern -resolve to retail everything himself and let no middleman profit from -him. But the Reindeer might be in at any moment to compete with him, so -that, after fixing upon a site for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> tent, he sent part of his cargo -ashore that very afternoon, and ensconced Allen as storeman.</p> - -<p>So Allen bartered goods for gold-dust; and as their hoard increased, -the friendship that is born of hardships endured in common grew between -them.</p> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>The wind that had been blowing fresh all day from the south-east had by -evening freshened into a gale, and the schooner was running before it -with reefed mainsail. As the sun sank red among the storm-clouds, and -lit the western horizon with a lurid glare, something more solid than a -cloud interrupted the unbroken line. The man at the wheel saw it, and -called the attention of the mate whose watch it was.</p> - -<p>“Land ahead, sir!”</p> - -<p>“That be hanged for a yarn! There’s no land within two hundred miles of -us, and what there is ain’t in that quarter.”</p> - -<p>“What is the nearest land?” asked Benion.</p> - -<p>“The Fijis. The old man took sights this morning and reckoned we’d pass -to the nor’rard of the Fijis some time to-morrow if the wind held. -They’re marked in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> the charts as high land, and we ought to see them -thirty miles off or more.” Then shading his eyes with his hand, he -gazed at the spot on the fast darkening horizon that looked now more -than ever like a cloud.</p> - -<p>“Why, you must have the jimmies if you call that land!” he said -over his shoulder. “Keep her up half a point.” He glanced at the -compass-card, spat over the lee-rail, and went forward.</p> - -<p>In a few moments the white foam-flakes turned to grey, faded and -vanished, and night fell like a great black cloth flung over the -troubled sea. With the darkness the wind seemed to get stronger, the -seas bigger, and the vessel more frail and helpless. She was advancing -by a series of bounds as each great roller overtook and lifted her -stern, poised and flung her forward, and then surged roaring past her, -leaving her as it were stranded in the gulf between it and the next, -whose swelling base the stern began again to climb.</p> - -<p>At eight o’clock the captain came on deck, glanced aloft and to -windward, and ordered the look-out to be doubled. Benion was sitting on -the main-hatch smoking, and emitting a shower of sparks from his pipe -with each gust of wind. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Anywhere near land, cap?” he shouted.</p> - -<p>“No; but we ought to sight it to-morrow, and in these coral waters one -likes to keep a good look-out. You never know when you may hit upon a -new reef.”</p> - -<p>The ship tore through the seas for half-an-hour, when there was a shout -from the look-out, “Breakers ahead!”</p> - -<p>The captain dashed to the wheel and put the helm down, and the schooner -came up into the wind, shivering with the shock of the great seas as -they struck her and washed the decks from stem to stern. The wind was -howling through the rigging, cracking the sails like whip-lashes, now -that the ship was no longer running before it, but a practised ear -could hear a distant roar, distinct from that of the wind and seas, -that broke on the ship. Both watches were hauling in the sheets and -reefing, and then the schooner’s head was payed off a little so as -to clear the shore, if shore it was. Benion and Allen were straining -their eyes to leeward in the hope of seeing the danger, but they could -distinguish nothing from the dark waste of grey water.</p> - -<p>“This sort of thing makes me wish that we hadn’t put all our eggs in -one basket,” said Benion. “If we had fetched up on that reef and got -off it alive, we shouldn’t have a penny in the world.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We ought to have insured the box and shipped it to New York in one of -the steamers,” replied Allen.</p> - -<p>“It seemed such sheer folly to pay the insurance rates that Carter -asked, I thought it was better to take the risk of shipwreck. If the -gold is lost we shall probably go to the bottom with it. If we get home -with it safe we can take it easy all our days. It’s a fair risk.”</p> - -<p>The mate meanwhile had climbed into the top and presently reported -that he could see breakers, but that they had cleared the corner of -the reef, and might now stand away a little. The ship’s head fell off -until the wind was again on the quarter, and she was running free. The -two men were soaked to the skin with the spray when the vessel was -close-hauled, but Benion would not go below to change, feeling that if -this were land the captain was at least two hundred miles out of his -reckoning, and they might go ashore at any moment. But several hours -passed without more alarms, and he at last fell asleep on the hatch in -his wet clothes. It was a troubled half sleep, in which every sound -entered into his dreams mingled with the monotonous roar of the seas. -Suddenly some one in his dream shouted “Land ahead!” There was a rush -of booted feet past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> him; he started up, and saw a dark mass looming -above the ship.</p> - -<p>As she came up into the wind a sea struck her forward and stopped her -dead, the next seemed to hurl her sideways, and before she could get -way on she fell with a reeling shock upon the reef, rolled sideways -amid the boiling surf, and each successive wave fell upon her with a -hungry yell and swept her from stem to stern, hammering and grinding -the wounded hull upon the sharp coral.</p> - -<p>At the first shock Benion fell against the starboard bulwarks, and -before he could grasp the slippery rail a great sea swept the deck and -washed him to leeward into the darkness. Dazed and without power of -reasoning, he allowed himself to drift, instinctively keeping his body -upright in the water.</p> - -<p>Allen meanwhile was still on the doomed ship. He was asleep when -she struck, and the shock flung him out of his bunk against the -opposite bulk-head. Bruised and stunned as he was, he realised what -had happened. The floor of the cabin was at a sharp angle, and the -bilge timbers groaned and cracked as each pitiless sea lifted the ship -and dashed her on the reef with a grinding crash. To steady himself -against the shocks he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> planted his foot against a box over which the -water was washing. It was Benion’s strong box, that had slid from its -lashings under the bunk. What were life worth, he thought, to either -of them if this were lost? It were better to die trying to save their -fortune than to battle for life, leaving this to certain destruction -in the wreck. He grasped it by the iron handle and dragged it up the -companion, using all his strength, for it was heavy, and the ladder -slanted at a sharp angle. Holding on by the brass rail, he looked out -upon the slippery decks. The top-mast, with all its ruin of yards, -ropes, and blocks, swung heavily by the wire-rigging and thrashed the -deck at every heave of the hull, and several of the crew were hacking -at the foremast with an axe. Nearer to him, in the waist of the ship, -three men seemed to be making a raft by lashing some spare planks and -spars together. Suddenly, with a splitting noise, the foremast with all -its wreckage went overboard, and the schooner partly righted herself. -As each sea lifted her she gradually came up head to wind, for both -anchors had been let go; and she lay there for a space without lifting -to the seas, for she was now waterlogged. The crest of every sea swept -the decks; but Allen, though blinded and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>suffocated by the spray, -still held firmly to the cabin-trunk, which protected him from the -waves. But a huge sea, gathering volume in the shallow water, swept -roaring down upon them, and trembling over the bows, carried everything -before it. The whole cabin-trunk gave way with the wrench, and Allen -suddenly found himself up to his neck in the water, away from the ship, -but still clinging to the brass rail of the cabin-trunk, and still -holding the iron handle of Benion’s box in his right hand. The water -splashing in his face impeded both breath and vision, but he thought -he could see the dim outline of the ship to windward. The water was -almost calm around him, for he was floating inside the reef, but there -was sufficient “send” in the waves to set him steadily inshore. At last -the cabin-trunk grounded, rose again for the next wave, struck more -heavily, and remained immovable, while the waves surged powerlessly -round it. The water was only waist-deep, and Allen, still grasping the -precious box, stumbled over the rough coral until he found himself on -dry sand, dripping and chilled to the bone by the wind, warm though it -was. A dark wall of bush close to him recalled grim stories of cannibal -natives. If he was in danger, the first thing to be done was to hide<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> -the box. Full of this one thought, he dragged it by the handle through -the soft sand into the shadow of the trees. The ground was carpeted -with the leaves of some trailing vine, that caught his feet and would -have thrown him had he not recovered himself against the trunk of a -tree. He felt it with his hands. It was gnarled and knotted, and of so -great a girth that his extended arms would not reach the half of its -circumference. This would be a landmark, he thought, for it must be -larger than its fellows. He knelt down and plunged his hands into the -sand at the root, tearing up the vines, and scooping out a hole large -enough to hold the box; but when he began to lower it into the hole the -corners caught the loose sand and half-filled the hole. A third of the -box remained above ground, but he dared not delay, for a nervous terror -of interruption had seized him. Through the roar of the wind he fancied -that he heard other sounds. He shovelled the loose sand against the -sides of the box, and, tearing up the vines within his reach, he piled -them above it. Then he stood up with a strange feeling of safety and -self-reliance. Come what might, if he and Benion escaped, their money -was safe. But where was Benion? He remembered for the first time that -he had not seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> him since the evening. What if he was the only man -left alive? It was a new thought, terrible at first until he remembered -the box buried at his feet. If Benion were dead, then all would be his -lawfully and without blame. What possibilities would life then have? -He had often dreamed on the diggings of what it would be to be rich, -but the possibility of riches for him had never seemed near until this -moment. He knew the disloyalty of the thought, for close upon its heels -came a half-formed wish that Benion might be dead. Gratitude had not -died out before this great temptation, for he could be grateful to his -benefactor’s memory if he could no longer show gratitude to him in the -flesh.</p> - -<p>While he stood irresolute he heard a distant shout. Not doubting that -it came from one of his comrades, he started along the shore in the -direction of the sound. In two hundred yards he came to a rocky bluff -from which great boulders had fallen upon the sand, forming a barrier -right down to the sea at low tide. Through these the sea was dashing -furiously, and it was so dark that he dared go no farther. He sat down -in a recess hollowed out of the cliff-foot by the sea at high tide, and -sheltered from the wind:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> his exhaustion conquered, and he fell asleep -in his wet clothes as he was.</p> - -<p>When he awoke the eastern sky was grey, and broad golden streaks shot -up from the horizon. The wind had moderated, but great masses of flying -scud told what the night had been. He was stiff and chilled from his -wet clothes, but he crawled out from his shelter, and found himself -face to face with a man, dripping, cold, and miserable as himself. It -was Jansen, one of the sailors, a Norwegian, one of those Allen had -seen trying to make a raft. He too had spent the night lying on the -shore, and he believed that besides themselves none were left alive. -While they were talking the sun rose, and straightway their prospects -assumed a less gloomy hue. The wreck was hidden from them by a curve -of the shore heavily timbered. They ran to this and saw the schooner -dismasted, lying helpless on her side. Every sea washed over her, and -she seemed to be breaking up. Landwards the forest was a mere fringe, -clothing the foot of great basaltic cliffs that rose sheer to a plateau -which they could not see. Every crevice of the limestone had been -seized upon by enterprising tree-ferns and banian-trees, and only where -the face was so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> smooth as to afford no clinging-place was the rock -naked.</p> - -<p>The two men wandered aimlessly along the narrow strip of sand left -between the high tide and the trees, and upon rounding a projecting -tree, came suddenly upon a thin column of smoke rising from the outer -edge of the bush. Their first instinct was to take cover behind a tree, -for they had the fear of cannibals ever before their eyes, but Allen -caught sight of a figure crouching among the undergrowth. Cannibal -savages do not wear blouses and trousers, nor even red beards, and to -whom could such a beard belong but Macevoy, A.B.? They found a group -of their shipmates crouching half-naked round a fire of drift-wood, -destined, when the smoke should subside, to dry their clothes.</p> - -<p>“Jansen and Allen! That makes fourteen. There are only five missing -now. Could Castles swim, do any of you know?” asked the boatswain.</p> - -<p>“Castles went to the bottom, if he had any swimming to do,” growled -Macevoy.</p> - -<p>The men had got ashore at different times during the night,—some -clinging to spars and oars, and others, washed off before they could -seize anything, had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> swum until they drifted into shallow water. Five -only were missing—Benion, the cook, and three seamen; but they might -have landed on a different part of the beach. The captain now proposed -that two parties should follow the beach in opposite directions, to -look for the missing men and to find fresh water, while the rest -collected wood for a raft on which to bring off provisions from the -wreck before she broke up, for they were desperately hungry. Allen -chose to stay with the main body, who soon collected enough fallen -timber for a raft, and lashed the logs together with the thick creepers -that hung in festoons from every tree. When it was finished the tide -had ebbed too far for launching it, and they could therefore do nothing -more until the afternoon. They were about to disperse in search of food -when one of the search-parties returned carrying a body between them.</p> - -<p>“Who is it?” shouted the captain.</p> - -<p>“Benion,” answered the leading man.</p> - -<p>Allen felt a thrill of guilty anticipation. Then he was dead after all, -and the gold would be his! The party came up and laid their burden -gently down. He was still alive. They had found him lying, helpless and -half-stunned, on the beach with a sprained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> ankle, and only strength -enough to crawl out of reach of the high tide.</p> - -<p>By mid-day they knew all there was to know about their island. It was -pear-shaped, and barely a mile in diameter,—a mere lump of limestone -pushed up from the ocean-bed, with a fringe of coral at its base. The -cliffs were unbroken save in one place, where some old earthquake had -split a jagged fissure in the rock almost down to the sea-level. This -little gorge, choked with vegetation, would have contained water had -the island been larger; but as it was, they could only find a little -moisture oozing from the cliff-face. Some of them climbed the gorge to -the plateau above, and saw the narrow light-green circle of the reef -edged with foam: saw an island near them, and two or three others so -far away that they blended with the clouds, but saw no sign of man, nor -any hope of rescue but by their own efforts.</p> - -<p>As soon as Benion was brought in, Allen was possessed with a fear -of being left alone with him. When the raft was launched, he joined -the two men told off to go to the wreck. It was evening before they -returned, with scarcely any stores, towing the largest of the ship’s -boats, staved and broken, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> not beyond repair. At night over the -fire they took counsel. To stay for more than a week at this place -would mean starvation. The island must be one of the Fiji group, which -the captain had supposed to be two hundred miles to the southward. Some -of them had heard that there were white men there; and the party that -had climbed the cliff had seen the outline of a large island down the -wind. There was only one course open to them—to repair the broken boat -and set sail. Benion beckoned to Allen from the ivi-tree under which he -was lying. The men were some feet away, and they could talk undisturbed.</p> - -<p>“Did you bring off the box on the raft?” he asked, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Allen; “the cabin was full of water.” Benion started -up, forgetting his injury until the pain reminded him. “Good God!” he -cried, “it must be there—under my bunk. No one in the ship knew of it -but you, and it couldn’t float away. I’ll find it myself to-morrow, -even if I smash my ankle looking for it. You seem to take it very -calmly,” he added, fiercely; “have you forgotten that your share is in -it as well as mine?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Forgotten! No; but I am too pleased at having saved my skin to think -about it yet.”</p> - -<p>“Your skin!” retorted Benion, contemptuously. “What good will your -<i>skin</i> be to you if you have nothing to put on or into it? If that box -is lost, I would to God I might lie where it lies!”</p> - -<p>His distress was so great that Allen felt an almost invincible desire -to tell him the truth. But why should he tell him now, in his present -state of excitement? How could he explain away the lie that had come -so readily to his lips? In his excitement Benion would suspect that -he meant to steal the money, and then good-bye to any future hope of -assistance. Why, Benion might repudiate all his verbal promises of -partnership, and he had no writing to show. And had he not worked -harder than Benion at the diggings?—been a hewer of wood and a drawer -of water while his partner sat at ease? How was he to be recompensed -for all this? And his share was to be so little, while with both shares -he might live a new life in some country where they would never meet.</p> - -<p>“Was the box fixed under your bunk?” he asked quickly, seeing the -other’s eyes fixed inquiringly upon him. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Lashed, do you mean? No. I had it out yesterday, and forgot to lash it -again.”</p> - -<p>“Then it must have slid out,” replied Allen. “The schooner is lying on -her side, and your bunk is now where the ceiling used to be. Don’t be -afraid. I’ll go off to-morrow and have another hunt for it.”</p> - -<p>But during the night the wind rose again, and at high tide a heavy sea -was thundering on the reef where the poor schooner lay in the darkness. -The dawn showed a flying scud from the south-east, and a grey ocean -streaked with foam. Spray was driving over the wreck, blurring her -outline, but it could be seen that she lay lower in the water. The -men busied themselves in repairing the boat, and collecting firewood. -Some of them scoured the reef at low water, catching small fish and -sea-slugs from the pools. Benion dragged himself to a spot whence he -could see the wreck, and lay there gazing at her with fierce anxiety, -and shuddering as each great sea struck and enveloped her in white -foam, as if he felt the blows on his own body. He would not touch food, -nor answer any one that spoke to him, and the men left him alone at -last, significantly touching their foreheads. “Left ’is wits aboard by -the looks of ’im, and wants to hail<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> them to come ashore,” was their -diagnosis of the case. Allen came in late from fishing on the lee side -of the island, and busied himself at the fire that was farthest from -his partner.</p> - -<p>The gale lasted all the next day, and brought up drenching -rain-squalls; but at midnight it suddenly died away, the stars came -out, and from every branch above the sleeping men the crickets burst -into song, to the tenor of the little wavelets sucking back the -shingle, and the bass of the great ocean-rollers breaking on the outer -reef.</p> - -<p>The men were astir before daylight to get the raft afloat at high -tide. But when the sun rose, and they looked for the dark outline -of the stranded schooner, they saw nothing to interrupt the broad -golden pathway but a strong eddy in the breaking swell, as if a rock -lay beneath the surface. The schooner was gone. Torn, battered, and -smashed into match-wood—only her bones lay jammed on the reef; the -rest of her was strewn broadcast along the beach where the tide had -left it,—broken planks, spars, blocks, casks, chests, and rope half -buried in the sand. Benion had one last hope—his box might be among -the wreckage in spite of its weight. In his despair he forgot the pain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> -of his sprained ankle, and half hobbled, half crawled after the men who -had gone out to collect the stores worth saving. Kneeling on the sand -at high-water mark, he eagerly scanned each man’s burden as he passed, -asking them whether they had seen an iron-bound box.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to go to the reef for that,” said one; “iron don’t float.”</p> - -<p>With the few tools they had saved from the wreck the repairs of the -boat made rapid progress. Three days passed, and though they had -been on half rations, their little stock of bread unspoilt by the -salt water was running short. At the most it would last them five -days, and they must allow three for the voyage to the westward. On -the third day, therefore, the last plank was roughly nailed into its -place, and caulked with strips torn from their clothing, a rough sail -was contrived from the schooner’s jib, and provisions and water were -prepared for their start upon the morrow.</p> - -<p>Benion had had alternate fits of deep dejection and impotent fury since -the destruction of the schooner. He spoke to no one, and would not eat -his ration of biscuit though he drank his water greedily. At times he -would start up, kneeling on the sand and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> shaking his fist at the sky -and sea, shouting blasphemies learned at the diggings but forgotten -till now; at others he lay for hours, face downwards, on the sand, -pillowing his head upon his arm. The men thought him mad and avoided -him, and Allen was glad of any excuse for keeping away from him. But on -the day before the projected start he had shown no violence, but had -lain motionless on the ground hour after hour. They discussed him over -the fire at night.</p> - -<p>“A chap as won’t eat, and has the jimmies, ain’t long for this world,” -said the boatswain, summing up.</p> - -<p>“Wish he’d look sharp about it,” growled another; “we don’t want chaps -seein’ snakes aboard <i>that</i> craft.” And he pointed to the boat. Allen -had been the first to notice Benion’s change of manner, and it filled -him with something like remorse. But it was too late to turn back now. -After all, if the box had been really lost, as it well might have been, -Benion would have had to bear his loss, and he must learn to bear it -now. Besides, perhaps he would tell him if they got safe out of the -island. Yes; he would tell him, but not now while he was in this state. -But however he tried to comfort himself, he was too uneasy to lie down -with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> the other men, who were laying in a stock of sleep for their -journey on the morrow. In the dim light of the stars he could see, just -beyond the shadow of the trees, a figure sitting on the sand looking -seaward, and could hear a few broken words brought to him by the night -breeze. He could feel, though he could not see, the fierce eyes with -a life’s longing written in them. He got up once intending to go and -speak to Benion, but abandoned the idea before he reached him, so -terrible did he seem in his despair; so he lay down watching him, and -trying to drive back his better feelings. About midnight he was almost -dozing when he sprang into wakefulness at the sound of his own name -coupled with a horrible blasphemy. Benion was kneeling erect, his right -arm extended seawards and clutching the back of his neck with his left, -declaiming passionately. Suddenly he turned, and falling on his hands -and knees, began to crawl towards the tree under which the captain -and officers of the ship were asleep. He passed into the shadow of -the trees, and for a moment was lost to sight. A horrible fear seized -Allen that he was mad and intended to kill some one, but uncertainty -prevented him from moving. A ray of light from one of the fires faintly -illumined the tree-trunk, and into this the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> crawling figure emerged -from the darkness. Yes; it must be murder that he intended, for now -he saw him grasp the captain’s gun that was leaning against the tree, -but before he could start forward he was crawling away as swiftly and -noiselessly as he had come, dragging the gun after him. Then it was not -murder of another but of himself. Now he was out again on the sand, and -scuffling along the beach upon his left foot and his right knee, nearly -as fast as a man could walk. Allen was too horrified to act—he could -only watch the receding figure with terror and bewilderment; and with -that strange perversity of humour it crossed his mind how funny Benion -looked scuffling along with his gun over his shoulder. But when the -figure disappeared behind a protruding tree, he yielded to the impulse -to follow and watch him. Perhaps he did not mean to kill himself after -all. He came out upon the sands, keeping in the shadow of the trees, -and near enough to Benion to distinguish his figure in the dim light. -After going a couple of hundred yards the hobbling figure became more -distinct, and Allen saw that he had stopped. There was not more than -twenty yards between them, and he sought for a deeper shadow in which -to stand. Just before him was a tree with low widespreading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> branches, -that threw the trunk into profound darkness. He crept towards it, -lifting his feet high and planting them softly on the sand. Something -struck him as familiar in the trunk as he neared it. Yes. Surely it -was the tree under which the box was buried! Had Benion halted there -by chance, or because he knew the spot? He turned to look for him, and -saw that he was creeping towards the tree on the other side of the -trunk. Then he must know the spot, and he had brought the gun to defend -him from interference. Allen would have run away but for the fear of -being overheard. Benion was on his knees now not five yards from him. -He could hear his labouring breath, and the rustle of the sand as he -dragged his wounded leg over it. As he came up Allen moved so as to -keep the tree between them. He stopped at the very edge of the pile -of sand and vines that hid the box, and sat down. How did he know so -well that it was there without feeling for it? He was going to dig it -up with his hands! He must get his breath first, though. Was this the -time to rest when any of the men might interrupt him? But no, he was -not resting, he was doing something. He was measuring the distance -with his gun, pushing the butt forward in the sand, so; or was he -going to dig with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> it that he leaned forward and put his foot against -the trigger-guard as a fulcrum? Good God! No; his head is against the -muzzle! “Benion!”</p> - -<p>Before the blinding flash had left his eyes, or the report ceased -echoing along the cliff, Allen was kneeling beside his partner, whose -head—as much as was left of it—was pillowed on the box for which he -had died. But only for a moment. The awful shock, while it numbed his -senses, brought him realisation of his own danger. The report must have -aroused the men by the fire, and if they found him there they might -suspect foul play. What mattered the treasure beside such a danger? -Leaving the body as it was, he tore through the undergrowth straight -inland to the base of the cliff, and groped his way along the rocks -so as to pass to the rear of the camp. His naked feet were torn and -bleeding from his headlong rush through the bush, but his mind was -too intent upon the sounds from the beach to heed the pain. He heard -the voices of men in motion, and a loud shout from the direction of -the <i>ivi</i>-tree. Then they had found the body! They would bring it -back to the camp, and he would be missed; perhaps they had even seen -his footsteps! If he would escape<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> suspicion he must mix with the men -before they had time to notice his absence. He began to run again and -burst out of the bush, heated and breathless, at a spot beyond the -camp. He slackened his pace when he saw the fire, but a glance told him -that it was deserted. There was a confused murmur from the direction of -the <i>dilo</i>-tree, and he pressed on in the hope of joining the others -unnoticed in the darkness. A few of the men were waving smouldering -brands snatched from the fire to fan them into flame, the rest were -stooping and craning over each other’s shoulders to look at something -in the middle of the circle. Allen, striving to suppress his panting -breath, pressed forward like the others, but his labouring lungs would -not obey him.</p> - -<p>“Why, mate, who the —— been chasing you? You’re blowing like a -black-fish.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?” asked Allen between his gasps.</p> - -<p>“Your mate, Benion, with a hole in his head that you can put your foot -into. Why, where have you been?”</p> - -<p>Some of the men turned round to look at him, and in the faint light he -was not a prepossessing object. His face and hair were dripping with -sweat, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> the skin was ghastly white, and his distended nostril -and heaving chest showed how fear and physical effort had told upon him.</p> - -<p>“Looks as if he could tell us something about it,” muttered one of them.</p> - -<p>But Allen roughly forced his way through them, and fell on his knees -beside the captain, who was giving directions for lifting the body.</p> - -<p>“Benion!” he cried. “Good God! Why could he have done it?”</p> - -<p>His distress was so evident that his words turned their thoughts in a -new direction.</p> - -<p>“After all, the pore devil had the jimmies,” said the boatswain, “and -like as not he kicked the trigger off with his foot: must have got a -clip on the head as we went ashore.”</p> - -<p>The gun was still lying where it fell—the muzzle resting on the dead -man’s shoulder, and the butt on the sand beside his right knee. The -position was so consistent with the idea of suicide, that they at once -adopted it.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s no good moving him till daylight,” said the captain. “Some -of you get a bit of sailcloth to cover him with, and let’s leave him -as he is until<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> the morning. Now, my lads, turn in and get what sleep -you can, for we must be away at sun-up;” and he led the way back to the -camp, followed by most of the men. Allen went with them and lay down, -pretending to sleep rather than undergo the questions he thought might -follow.</p> - -<p>They were all astir before daybreak. The captain called Allen, as being -Benion’s fellow-passenger, and asked him whether he knew of anything -that would account for the suicide.</p> - -<p>“He had a box,” replied Allen, “in which he kept all our money. It was -lost in the schooner, and when he found that it was gone he lost his -head, as you saw.”</p> - -<p>“Where were you when the thing happened?”</p> - -<p>“I had left the camp on the other side. When I heard the gun go off I -ran in and found you round the body. When I left, Benion was sitting -here on the beach as he had been all day.”</p> - -<p>“H’m! You must have been a long time away,” said the captain, turning -to give orders about stowing the stores in the boat. Then taking with -him the mate and such of the sailors as were not employed, he walked to -the <i>dilo</i>-tree followed by Allen. At its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> foot a sailcloth was spread, -which had roughly taken the shape of the body it covered. In the grey -light Allen could see that one end of it was stained red and caked -hard. The captain saw it too, and said, “Don’t uncover the poor devil; -dig the hole here, and we’ll lift him into it just as he is.”</p> - -<p>Four sailors armed with bits of broken plank began to scrape up the -sand so as to form a hollow trench, and as the mound at the back grew -higher, the sand slipped down and met the pile Allen had made round -the buried chest. In a few moments a shallow trench had been dug, and -they lifted the stiff body still covered and lowered it gently into the -rough grave.</p> - -<p>“Hats off!” said the captain, gruffly, as he stepped to the side of the -grave. “Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. We commit his -body to the earth, in sure and certain hope that at the last day he -will rise again.”</p> - -<p>It was all that he could remember of the Burial Service, and he said it -defiantly as a man who does his duty regardless of the ridicule he may -provoke, and dropped a handful of the coral sand upon the canvas.</p> - -<p>“Now shovel in the sand,” he said, roughly; “we’ve done all we can for -the poor chap.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> - -<p>Allen was staring on the box. The creepers and sand he had thrown -upon it had taken the square form of the lid, and he could scarcely -believe that they had not seen it. But there were blood-stains on it. -He ran forward and shovelled the loose sand over them with his hands -so quickly that the work was done before another could come to his -assistance.</p> - -<p>Two hours later the crowded boat was running free, and the island, with -its fellow to the northward, had taken definite shape.</p> - -<p>“We must give it a name,” said the mate. “What’s it to be?”</p> - -<p>“It looks mighty like a boot from this side,” said the boatswain; “and -the island to the nor’ward’s like a shoe. Let’s call it Boot Island.”</p> - -<p>So Boot Island it was called.</p> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p>How they reached Levuka at last, and parted company in that budding -centre of idleness and cheap liquor—some to work their passages to -Sydney, and others to scatter over the group—need not be related<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> -here. To get away from something that lay on the beach at Boot Island -was Allen’s one desire. Drink is said to drown memories, so he tried -drinking; but it would not wash away certain dull red stains on a -background of white sand. And on the morning after the debauch the body -and mind are too weak to resist an angry past: besides, what might not -a man say when he was drunk? To move anyhow, anywhere, were better -than this. So he became a wanderer. But the human mind is fashioned -mercifully, and blunts with use. If the body be healthy, there is no -impression, however strong, that will not wear away with time. He -shipped in a whaler, but almost before the high land had melted into -the clouds he wished himself back again. He found so many excuses for -himself, and as poor Benion had killed himself, what good could the -box do him lying on the beach in Boot Island? The first man who landed -would find it and take it away, whereas, if he had it, he would keep -only his own share, and send the rest to Benion’s widow. He left the -ship at the first island they touched. It chanced to be Apemama in the -Line Islands, whose king, having vanquished most of the neighbouring -atolls, and sighing for other worlds to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> conquer, eagerly welcomed a -white man who could mend his three “Tower” muskets.</p> - -<div class="center" id="i248.jpg"><img src="images/i248.jpg" alt="LEVUKA" /></div> - -<p class="bold">LEVUKA.</p> - -<p>He would stay there, he thought, until a vessel bound for Levuka put -in; but month followed month and no such ship came. He rose rapidly -from the post of chief armourer to be the king’s first minister, and -took to himself a woman of the place to be his wife. Ships put in -for provisions or to recruit labourers for the South American guano -islands; and as the king’s adviser, his services to the captains were -paid for, and the money hoarded. So three years slipped over his head, -and a ship put in at last wanting provisions, and bound to Levuka to -fill up with oil. Allen helped the captain to get his provisions, and -sold him his stock of pearl-shell, taking in part payment a passage for -himself, his native wife, and her niece. The ship got under weigh, and -stood on and off the island till nightfall, and Allen, guided by the -riding light, paddled off under cover of the darkness, and cast his -canoe adrift; for his royal patron had found him useful, and was prone -to secure his own comfort without due regard to the inclination of his -dependents. At Levuka he found that his countrymen were busy developing -the country with muskets and gunpowder. If a tribe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> would live it must -have as many firearms as its neighbours, and to obtain them it would -sell as much land as the foreigner wanted. And so, for ten muskets and -a keg of powder, Allen became the possessor of Boot Island, and the -vendor, pitying his simplicity, was ready to sell him two other rocky -islands on the same terms.</p> - -<p>He stood at last, as he had often dreamed, upon the beach where his -treasure was buried, and watched the little dinghy labouring out -towards the cutter, which presently swooped down upon it and bore it -away, running free towards the west. Then he turned to the two women, -who sat patiently by the pile of cases on the beach, and pointed to -the spot where they had made their camp-fires more than three years -ago. They left him to gather sticks, and he passed quickly round the -point that hid the <i>dilo</i>-tree under which he had buried the box. It -was just as he remembered it, save that the ground bore no sign of -ever having been disturbed. The creeping vine that lives between soil -and sand covered the place with a thick carpet of shiny leaves, and no -mound could now be traced. He tried to picture the spot as he had last -seen it—the flickering torchlight, the scared faces of the shipwrecked -sailors, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> blood-stained sand—but the bright sun threw a -checker-work of shade through the branches, and a fresh trade-wind bore -the smell of the sea to his nostrils, so that the picture would not fit -the frame, and the memory seemed less real to him than a nightmare. -Surely he had dreamed that Benion’s shattered body was buried here! If -it was true, where was the grave? and how could the whole place look -so bright and peaceful? But the box—that could have been no dream! It -was for that that he had come, and he must find it. He went resolutely -and stood against the gnarled trunk. Standing thus, as he had stood on -the night of the wreck, the box must be buried at his feet, but there -was nothing to show that the treasure and its silent guardian lay there -together. He stooped and tore away the matted vine, and the coral sand, -dulled with vegetable mould, lay bare. Yes, there was a slight swelling -of the sand here, but so slight that he could scarcely believe that -anything lay beneath it. Some one must have found and stolen it! With a -terrible sinking of the heart, that drove out all power of reasoning, -he fell on his knees and tore away the yielding sand with his fingers. -At the fourth plunge his heart stopped, for his hand struck against -something hard. He plunged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> it lower, hoping to feel the square corner, -but the thing was round and unfamiliar to the touch. A little lower, -and his fingers were beneath it, and with a fierce curiosity he tore it -upwards from its sandy bed. It threw the coarse sand from its slippery -sides, and lay inert—a shattered skull, with a patch of hair still -adhering to it! Allen sat staring with wide eyes at the grinning face -as it perched knowingly on a hillock of sand, and then, as it slid -over and rolled down towards him, he shrieked yell after yell of mad -laughter, and the women, running in the direction of the sound, found -him so.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE HERMIT OF BOOT ISLAND.</h2> - -<p>It was past three o’clock when we cast off the buoy at Mango, and let -the schooner go free before the “trade.” It was blowing fresh, but she -was travelling faster than the seas themselves, and was as steady as a -rock. At dusk we were abreast of a precipitous island, steep, too, on -all sides but one, which ran off to a sloping point like the toe of a -boot. The skipper was gazing earnestly at the dark line of shore.</p> - -<p>“That’s Boot Island,” he said, in answer to my question; “and the other -you can just make out to the nor’ward they call Shoe Island. If there -was a light on that point I’d have to go in. The old devil that lives -there’s as crank as a March hatter, and I promised I’d go in if he -made a fire on the beach as I was passing. You see he might be sick or -something, and no one’d ever know. Nothing but a bird could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> land on -this side in weather like this. You’ve got to lie on and off on the -lee side and send a boat ashore. There’s no anchorage. He’s getting -very crank. Bickaway, the storekeeper, sent a boat last week for his -<i>copra</i>, but he wouldn’t let him land because it was Saturday. Said he -was getting ready for Sunday. The old beggar knew well enough that the -boat was chokeful of trade, and he and his women hadn’t enough clothes -to cover themselves decently. Bickaway yelled to him that his <i>copra</i> -would be rotten before another boat came, but he stood on the beach -and waved him off. Said that he couldn’t land before Tuesday, because -on Monday he’d be meditating. No, he can’t starve. The women take good -care of that. Bickaway saw a fine patch of pumpkins and <i>kumalas</i>, -besides cocoa-nuts. He won’t catch fish, because he says it’s wicked -to take life. There’s only the two women on the place besides him—his -woman and her niece; and he must be pretty rough on them at times, or -the girl wouldn’t have swum all the way to Shoe Island, and got picked -up by the niggers. They brought her back, too, in their boat, and the -old chap let them land, and gave them half his <i>kumala</i> crop—he, that -don’t like niggers, least of all the Yathata niggers! They say he’s a -Yankee, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> no one knows for certain. I suppose I’m the only white -man as ever got into his house, and that was five years ago. Oh! it’s -a long yarn, and not worth telling. I was ‘<i>beech-de-mar-ing</i>’ at the -back of Taveuni. Hadn’t had any luck, and one of the niggers belonging -to Yathata—that’s Shoe Island yonder—says, ‘Why don’t you try -Yathata, and the white man’s island?’ So I went over there in a boat I -had, and worked her over the reef at spring-tide in very calm weather. -I’d heard a lot about old Simpson, that he wouldn’t let any one fish -his reefs, because the island was his; but I meant to fish whether or -no, as the nigger told me that the reef swarmed with teat-fish, and -the Chinamen in Levuka were giving fifty-five pounds a ton. As soon as -we let go the anchor, the old devil came out of a lean-to he’d knocked -together of packing-cases and rusty iron. He was the damnedest old -scarecrow you ever see, with a white beard down to his belt, a filthy -old shirt, and blue dungaree pants. I made the boys haul the anchor -short and keep lifting it, so as she dragged in, and I stood up in the -stern pretending to read a book I had.”</p> - -<p>The crest of a big sea surging past us lopped on deck, drenching us to -the knees. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> - -<p>“<i>Uli!</i>” shouted the skipper to the native steersman. “Here! <i>Soro na -sila</i>, some of you!” and as they slacked off the sheet he drew me aft -out of the waist, and continued.</p> - -<p>“Well, as soon as we touched, I jumped out and waited for him.</p> - -<p>“‘What have you come for?’ says he.</p> - -<p>“‘Stress of weather and short provisions,’ I says. Then he stood -looking at me for about a minute, while I opened my book again. After -a bit he turned round, and went into his lean-to. When he’d gone in I -come up to the door. There was a mat or two on the bed-place, but the -floor was bare gravel, and the table an old packing-case nailed on two -sticks stuck in the ground.</p> - -<p>“‘What d’yer want?’ he says, when I looked in.</p> - -<p>“‘Nothing,’ says I, and sat down in the doorway. After a bit he says, -‘To-day’s the third of June, and a Thursday, else you couldn’t have -landed. Who’s Governor now?’</p> - -<p>“‘Des Vœux,’ I says.</p> - -<p>“‘Never heard of him,’ says he; ‘thought Gordon was. What’s <i>copra</i>?’</p> - -<p>“‘Ten pound five in Levuka.’ </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘Then I’ll get eight pound here,’ says he. ‘I see boats and steamers -go past most weeks, but I don’t hear much news. When are you going?’</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t going to let on about the <i>beech-de-mar</i> racket, so I opens -my book and sings ‘Rock of Ages cleft for me.’ Soon as I begun he comes -out and stands looking at me. I only knew one verse, but I kep’ on -and sung it three times over, keeping as near as I could to the tune, -and he kep’ looking at me all the time as solemn as a cockroach. When -I done it three times I sang Amen, and he went back into the shanty. -Then I took off my hat and knelt up with my hands clasped as if I -was praying to myself. Soon as I got up he says, ‘Come in, will yer, -and sit down a bit?’ and then he calls his woman and begins talking -Tokelau to her, and she fetched in a dish of hot <i>kumalas</i> the old -devil had been keeping back till he thought I’d go. Then she got some -eggs and took ’em off to the cook-house, and the old beggar sat on the -bed all the time and said he’d wait till I’d done. But just as I’d -got hold of a <i>kumala</i> he says, ‘Aren’t you going to say grace?’ a -bit suspicious-like, and I says, ‘Of course I am, but I always takes -hold of the food first;’ so I holds up the <i>kumalas</i> over my head, and -says,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> ‘For what we’re going to receive, Amen.’ But when we’d done -dinner we were good friends, and he’d told me all about his soul, and -asked after mine; and he sends the girls off with <i>kumalas</i> for my -boys. Then I says that idleness is a bad thing, and I’d like ’em to -do a little fishing on the reef at low tide, and he says, ‘But you -wouldn’t have them take life?’</p> - -<p>“‘Certainly not,’ I says. ‘I wouldn’t kill a fish, not if it jumped -into my pocket and I was starving, but with <i>beech-de-mar</i> it’s -different, for being a slug he ain’t got feelings, and even Darwin -ain’t sure that he ain’t a vegetable.’</p> - -<p>“‘That’s so,’ says the old beggar. ‘Well, as long as they don’t fish on -Saturday or Sunday or Monday I don’t mind.’</p> - -<p>“Well, by Friday night we’d got all the fish worth picking up on the -lee side, and I got away on the Saturday, and promised I’d call in if I -was passing, and there was a fire on the beach,—‘You might be wanting -something, or be sick,’ I says.</p> - -<p>“‘If I’m sick,’ he says, ‘I shan’t light a fire, for the Lord ’ll -provide.’</p> - -<p>“Barring religion, the old devil wasn’t so very cranky, except about a -sort of fence he’d got under a <i>dilo</i>-tree.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> I thought it was a grave, -and went to look at it, but he come running after me with his eyes half -out of his head, and pulled me away by the arm. I suppose his woman had -had a kid that had died, and he’d got it buried there. Perhaps it’s -that that made him cranky. Well, there’s no fire on the beach, so if -he’s alive he don’t want anything.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE WARS OF THE FISHING-ROD.</h2> - -<p>Far up the great river there once dwelt three clans in brotherly love, -planting on the same lands, and giving their women to one another in -marriage. Brothers in arms they were, and staunch allies whenever the -hordes of Tholo made a descent upon them; nor could the elders remember -any interruption in their friendship except once, when the pigs of -Valekau destroyed the yam-gardens of Rara, and their owners would make -no reparation. But this was long ago, and the tradition had become -misty.</p> - -<p>Rara stood upon a high bluff on a bend of the river, precipitous -on three sides, and protected on the fourth by two ditches and an -earthwork. Valekau, sprung from the same ancestors and worshipping -the same gods, was built upon a lower hill a mile away, and set back -from the river-bank. It needed no protection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> but a war-fence on the -crest of the hill, and the gate was an arch formed by the roots of a -great banian-tree, so narrow that one warrior only could pass it at a -time. Tovutovu lay in the plain on the other side of the river. Five -ditches encircled it, having war-fences between each, and the gates -were cunningly devised, so that he who would enter must encompass the -town three times between the palisades before he could pass all the -gates, for none was opposite to the other. Tovutovu had not the same -gods as Rara, having descended later from the mountains to the plain. -But in peace-time they planted together, and the women fished <i>kais</i> in -the common fishing-ground; and when the <i>lali</i> beat for war, the young -men painted their faces and lay in ambush together, and the women and -children hid together in the forest behind Rara.</p> - -<p>Now strange things began to be brought up the river. First there -were rumours of foreigners who came up from the ocean in canoes like -islands for bigness. This, they thought, was but another lie of their -enemies, the coast-people. Next Seru of Rara brought a thing more solid -than rumour—an adze made of a hard substance that cut deep into the -toughest wood which the stone adze only chipped. The man who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> gave it -in Kasava told him that it was the least of the strange things the -foreigners had brought, and that the foreigners had white skins like -lepers, and covered them up with bark-cloth, being ashamed to show -aught but their faces because of the colour. Also their noses were as -long as bananas, and they spoke with women’s voices.</p> - -<p>Thenceforward the young men made many journeys down the river as far as -they dared, and brought back with them other strange things—cloth not -made from bark, but of a substance that could be washed without injury, -and iron of many shapes that could be beaten out between two stones -into adze-blades; and one of them brought back a tale of a devil the -foreigners had which thundered, and every time it thundered a man fell -dead, pierced through the body with an unseen spear. There was much -striving between the clans to possess these strange things, and they -were begged of the young men, and begged again of him to whom they were -given, so that they passed from one to another until each of the elders -had called them his. But they all yearned to possess the devil of the -foreigners that thundered, and the young men made many journeys hoping -to possess one, and returned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> with many things, but always without this -devil that they wanted. And one day when the youths of Rara returned -from down the river, the young man Bativundi came running to the elders -of Valekau as they sat at sunset in the great <i>bure</i>.</p> - -<p>“The youths of Rara have returned from below, and it is said that they -have brought with them a wonderful thing with which the foreigners take -fish. It is a stick that grows long at will, as a bamboo shoots up from -the ground; and from the top there comes a string, having at the end a -fly with a hook hidden in its belly. This is the way of it. A man holds -the stick in his hand and waves it, and the stick, being pliable, makes -the fly dance upon the water; and whether it be magic, or whether the -fish be befooled, I know not, yet they bite the fly and are pierced -with the hook, and so drawn to land. No such thing has been seen in our -land, for one man between sunrise and mid-day can take more fish than -all Valekau can eat.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Kombo!</i>” cried the elders. “Let us send an embassy to Rara to beg -this stick that we may eat fish and live.”</p> - -<p>So on the morrow Nkio took a root of <i>yangona</i> in his hand and went to -Rara, saying, “I am come to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> beg the stick with which fish are taken. -It is the word of the chiefs of Valekau, your relations, that I beg -this stick.”</p> - -<p>Now the men of Rara had touched the <i>yangona</i>-root, and clapped their -hands, and they sat silent as if not knowing what answer to make. -But at last one of them said, “Be not angry, Nkio, but return to -Valekau, saying, ‘We are a poor land, and it is difficult to grant your -request.’” So Nkio returned and spoke as he had been bidden.</p> - -<p>Valekau sat in council, and their hearts were grieved. Did Rara weigh -their friendship so lightly that they wantonly refused a gift begged -with the proper ceremonies? It was a gross insult. Rara esteemed them -as slaves, things of no account, to be flouted at will; but they should -know that a long peace does not blunt the spears nor paralyse the arms -of Valekau. The bodies of their youths were not gross with slothful -ease, nor the limbs of their elders stiff with wallowing on the mats. -This insult must be paid for! But how? Then spoke Bonawai, the Odysseus -of the tribe, versed in all the wiles and craft that bring a people to -greatness—<i>Bonawai na dau vere</i>, Bonawai the schemer. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hearken!” he said, contracting his brows until his wicked eyes gleamed -like fire-sticks. “Rara is a stronghold set upon a hill, and the young -men within it are as the <i>kai</i>-shells about the cooking-places for -multitude, and they have Wanganivanua and Tumbanasolo, both terrible in -war. If a man would climb the hill on this side, surely his body would -be like a <i>balawa</i>-tree at the cross-roads, at which the boys throw -their reeds, so thick would it be stuck with spears; and if we lie in -ambush for their women when they dig the yams, and bring the bodies -home to be baked, we should not triumph long, for they would come upon -us at first cock-crow, and if they feared to scale the war-fence, they -would bind balls of lighted <i>masi</i> to their spear-heads and throw -them into the thatch to windward, and while we were scurrying about -foolishly, like ants whose nest the digging-stick has probed, striving -to extinguish the fire, they would leap the fence and club us in the -darkness from behind. For I know the men of Rara how crafty and subtle -they are in wiles of war; yet there is none among them so crafty as -I. Now listen! Across the river are the men of Tovutovu. Let us send -to them, saying, ‘Come! You are our brothers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> In Rara there is much -plunder, and women fair to look upon, and the men are puffed up with -pride,—living as they do in so strong a fortress,—and call you and us -their slaves. They have, besides, a certain stick—a magic contrivance -of the foreigners—that takes fish until a man wearies of holding it. -This we begged of them that we might give it to you, but they, knowing -our intention, refused. Therefore, come! Let us wipe them out, and -we will divide the spoil and the dead bodies and the slave-women as -becomes chiefs.’ And if it happen that Rara be too strong for us, and -we be repulsed, then we will send whales’ teeth to them, saying, ‘The -men of Tovutovu seduced us, but if ye will, we will join you and cross -the river and club these strangers of Tovutovu, dividing the spoil and -the dead bodies as becomes chiefs.’ These are my words to you!”</p> - -<p>And the elders cried, “<i>Vinaka, Vinaka!</i>” and clapped their hands.</p> - -<p>Then an embassy was chosen,—Mawi, the left-handed, and Waleka, the -orator,—and they took a whale’s tooth and crossed over to Tovutovu in -the night, and spoke the words of Bonawai as they had been bidden. And -the elders of Tovutovu took the whale’s tooth in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> token that they would -do the behest of which it was an emblem; and the young men prepared -black paint for their faces, and streamers of smoked <i>masi</i> for their -elbows, and turbans, and dyed rushes for leg-ornaments, and arrayed -themselves for war. And they came out into the square in the evening -before the elders and the women, and boasted, looking very terrible -with their weapons. And one ran forward and smote the earth thrice -with his club, so that it trembled, and he cried, “Fear not, aged men, -this club is your shield!” And another took his place, and gnashed his -teeth, crying, “My name is ‘Man-eater.’ The corpses of Rara are my -food!” And another cried, “My arms rest only when I am clubbing!” And -another, “Lead me on, for I bark for human flesh!”</p> - -<p>So they became exceeding bold with their boasting, each vying with -the other, and the maidens saw their valour and admired them, and the -elders laughed, crying, “Well done!” And towards evening the words of -Bonawai came to them, bidding them cross over under cover of the night -and attack Rara from the front at first cock-crow, for Valekau would -yield them the place of honour, and themselves attack from the forest. -So when evening was come they crossed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> river at the bend where the -bananas are, and came out into the yam-gardens. Here two old women -of Rara were carrying home loads of firewood on their backs, fearing -nothing, for it was peace-time; but when they saw the blackened faces -of the warriors and the weapons they shrieked loudly, and threw down -their burdens to run towards Rara. But the army of Tovutovu set upon -them, and Rasolo, being swiftest of foot, reached them first, and -slew them with his throwing-club as they lay upon the ground crying -for mercy, and shielding their heads with their hands. Then they went -to Valekau to wait until the moon set. And about midnight the men of -Valekau left them and climbed into the forest, so as to descend upon -Rara from behind, and intercept the fugitives, saying, “Let us attack -just before the birds awake, for then is sleep heaviest upon men.”</p> - -<div class="center" id="i268.jpg"><img src="images/i268.jpg" alt="Rasolo, being swiftest of foot, reached them first" /></div> - -<p class="bold">“<i>Rasolo, being swiftest of foot, reached them first, -and slew them with his throwing-club.</i>”</p> - -<p>So before the first cock crowed the men of Tovutovu crept up the hill -from all sides, and the army of Valekau crawled down the ridge in the -forest to attack the war-fence at the back of the fortress; but ere -they reached it a green parrot heard them, and flew shrieking to its -mates, “Awake, awake!” and a man of Rara, who chanced to be without, -said within himself, “A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> green parrot never cries save when alarmed by -men, and men are not abroad at this hour save for some evil,” so he -cried to his fellows in the great <i>bure</i>, “There is war! Make ready!” -And they, suddenly awakened, snatched every man a weapon, and ran -hither and thither in the darkness, not knowing what they did. And the -women shrieked, and the children wailed, and there was a great uproar. -And when the men of Valekau heard it they leapt into the ditch, caring -nothing for the sharp stakes, and tore down the war-fence, and thrust -fire-sticks into the thatch of the houses, and the wind from the forest -fanned the glow into a flame, and the thatch was ignited so that it -became as light as day. The men of Rara stopped not to strike at them, -but fled down the hill towards the river like a mountain torrent after -rain; and as the torrent sweeps away the dead wood that has choked its -bed, so they bore down the army of Tovutovu before them, who, thinking -themselves attacked, struck at them and fled, leaving the way clear. -And so eager were the men of Valekau for plunder, that not one pursued, -and all escaped but some women and children who knew not whither to -flee. So Rara was burned, and their yam-gardens destroyed, and the -army of Valekau carried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> away the plunder and the dead bodies, and -shared them with Tovutovu as became chiefs. But though they searched -diligently, yet they did not find the cause of the war—the stick -with which fish are taken; and they sent to Tovotovu, saying, “If we -had found it, it should have been your portion; but the Kai Rara are -crafty, and must have buried it. Yet we send you bodies for the oven.” -Thus was Rara wiped out, and Valekau and Tovutovu divided the spoil.</p> - -<p>Now the people of Rara fled into the forest and dwelt there many -days, eating wild yams, and seeking a place to flee to. And they -sent messengers down the river to the chiefs of Korokula asking for -protection, and leave to settle on their lands. And when the messengers -returned they removed thither and built houses at Lawai, a little below -Korokula, and their young men worked for Korokula, planting yams and -bananas, and taking food in return until their own should be ripe. But -the chiefs of Korokula oppressed them, saying, “These are fugitives. -Are they not our slaves to do as we will with?” And they killed their -pigs, and took their women as it pleased them. And the men of Rara -murmured, but endured, not knowing whither to flee. But at last, on a -certain day, a chief of Korokula<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> was thirsty, and had no <i>yangona</i>, -and he said to his young men, “I have seen a great root growing on -the house foundation of Dongai of Rara. Go and tear it up, and chew -it here before me that we may drink.” And the men of Rara said among -themselves, “They have killed our pigs, and taken our women, and we -bore it. Now they tear up our <i>yangona</i>. How can this be endured? Yet -we are not strong enough to set upon them, for they are more numerous -than we. Let us now send an atonement to Valekau, and ask for peace to -rebuild our houses upon our own earth and upon the foundations of our -ancestors.” So they took whales’ teeth, and sent them by the hand of -a herald to Valekau. And when the elders of Valekau doubted whether -they should take them, the crafty Bonawai counselled them, saying, -“There is now peace, but we are few in number. What if the tribes above -descend upon us? How shall we alone resist them? Let Rara return, for -in war they will help us against our enemies, and in peace they will -fear us and do our bidding. Of this the whales’ teeth are a token.” So -they accepted the atonement, and the fugitives returned, and rebuilt -their houses upon their own earth and upon the foundations of their -ancestors. And Valekau made a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> feast for them, and presented it -with all the proper ceremonies in token that the past was forgotten.</p> - -<p>Now, after many months, when the yams were ripe again, the men of Rara -began to speak among themselves of how they might best repay the debt -they owed to Valekau; and the elder, Dongai, counselled them, saying, -“This Valekau is puffed up with pride, and all men hate them. It was -but yesterday that I heard Tabuanisoro of Tovutovu say that his people -were weary of their doings. Of ourselves we are too few to repay them, -but if Tovutovu were our allies—— Let us therefore make a feast for -them, and try them.” So they made a feast, and challenged Tovutovu to -play at <i>tinka</i> with them. And the young men of Tovutovu brought their -<i>ulutoa</i><a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" >[3]</a> to the <i>tinka</i>-ground and were victorious. And in the -evening, when the elders were drinking <i>yangona</i> in the great <i>bure</i>, -Dongai spoke a parable to them. “The blue heron saw the rat eating fish -that the tide had left, and he asked for it; but the rat said, ‘The -gods sent this fish for me and mine, and they have given thee a long -beak wherewith to catch fish in the pools where I cannot go.’ Then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> -blue heron was angry and spoke to the crab, saying, ‘This fellow is -become a fish-eater and takes our food. Come, let us drive him out, and -thy portion shall be the hole that he has made.’ So they came upon the -rat in the night-time, and the crab nipped his tail and he fled. But -the crab did not have his hole, for the blue heron took it. And he was -puffed up with pride, and flapped his wings, and said to the crab, ‘My -legs are longer than thine, therefore am I set a chief over thee. Bring -me thy fish.’ Is this a true story, chiefs of Tovutovu?”</p> - -<p>And they said, “Yes, it is true.”</p> - -<p>And he said, “Now hear what the crab did. The rat came back and spoke -to the crab, saying, ‘Why didst thou bite my tail? Did I refuse thee -fish? If thou hadst asked me I would have given thee all my fish. My -quarrel was with the blue heron, yet thou camest in the night and -nipped my tail; and now the blue heron oppresses us both. But he sleeps -at night. Now thou shalt go and seize him by the foot, and I will climb -upon his back, and bite his neck, and he shall not fly away because -thou shalt hold his foot between thy pincers. When he is dead we will -share the fish of all the coast between us, but thou shalt have the -greater share.’” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p>And for a space all looked upon the ground and picked at the mats with -their fingers. Then Tambuanisoro said, “It is a good story, and also -true!”</p> - -<p>And on the morrow Rara and Tovutovu took the first-fruits of the yams -to Valekau as men take the first-fruits to a great chief. And they -said, “You are now our fortress and our head. These are the wretched -first-fruits of our barren gardens, for you know that we are a poor -people not meet to offer food to chiefs.” And then they piled the great -yams high in the square, and bound live pigs beside the pile, and the -men of Valekau accepted them, and their senses were dulled by the -flattery. And they made a feast for their guests, and the ovens were -opened about sunset, so they feasted until late in the night.</p> - -<p>Then Dongai said, “It is yet day. Have you no dance? The dance is -fitting when the men are filled with pig.”</p> - -<p>And the elders of Valekau called to their young men to make ready, and -Dongai said, “I will send our young men to the forest to get torches.” -And he sent them, saying, “Go and make torches of reeds, and bring in -secretly whatever the women have brought you from Rara.” And they went -out into the road and called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> softly, and the women came out of the -reeds and gave them clubs hidden in bunches of dry reeds like torches; -and the men cut reeds and made torches there and returned to the town, -having in the right hands a lighted torch, and in the left the torch -that hid their clubs. Then the men of Valekau danced before the chiefs -a war-dance with spears and clubs, the elders beating the ground with -the bamboo drums, and the chiefs of Rara and Tovutovu applauded, crying -“<i>Vinaka!</i>” many times; but Dongai said, “This is well done, but my men -know a stranger dance than this—a war-dance taught by the gods of the -old time, but now forgotten.” And Bonawai laughed and said, “<i>Veka.</i> -Do your young men know things that are forgotten, and can they surpass -ours in the dance?” And Dongai said, “Who knows? Let them be tried. -Only they have left their dresses and their weapons in Rara.”</p> - -<p>So Bonawai called to the youths of Valekau, who stood panting and -sweating behind the torches: “Take ye the torches, and give your clubs -to these gods of Rara who can dance better than ye.” And the men of -Rara took the clubs, and squatted four deep with the weapons poised, -while the elders beat the drums and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> chanted. And the men of Valekau -derided them, for their faces were not blacked for dancing.</p> - -<p>Now the men of Ram had given their spare torches to the men of -Tovutovu, and as they stood in the shadows behind the torches they -stripped the reeds from the clubs and held them behind their backs. And -suddenly the dancers rose with a great shout, and rushed forward with -brandished clubs, making the earth tremble. Then they retreated, and -again rushed forward, spreading in a line facing the elders of Valekau -as they sat under the cocoa-nut palms, and as they whirled their clubs -in the dance the leader cried “<i>Ravu!</i>” (strike), and they struck, but -not in the air, for every man struck the head of the man before him. -And the men of Tovutovu struck at the torchbearers from behind, and the -rest fled, crying, “Treachery!” But when they reached the upper gate -the men of Rara stood there, and cried, “Payment!” and when they would -escape by the lower gate they found the men of Tovutovu there also, -and in their madness they tore down the war-fence and leaped into the -ditch, where many were impaled on the sharp stakes they themselves had -set up. And the victors fired the houses, and ran hither and thither -clubbing all they met; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> had it not been for the darkness surely -none would have escaped, for the men of Rara pitied none save a few -women they took alive for slaves, but ran about crying “Bring torches!” -and slaying. So that night was called <i>Mai-na-cina</i> (bring torches), -because of the cry of Rara as they were slaying. Thus was Valekau wiped -out, and Rara and Tovutovu divided the spoil.</p> - -<p>Now the men of Valekau fled to the forest, and they counted those who -were missing, and mourned over them. And Bonawai said, “This has been a -grievous night, and there must be payment for it, but not now, for many -brave warriors are fallen, and many of our <i>katikati</i>,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" >[4]</a> therefore are -we become as helpless as the straws whirled onward by a swift current. -Let us flee to the caves, and dwell there until our way be plain.” So -they dwelt many months in the caves, eating wild yams and bush-pigs.</p> - -<p>And after many months the chiefs of Rara, whose mothers were Valekau -women, said, “Let our vasu return, for it is a shame to us that our -mothers’ folk should be rooting in the forest like wild boars. Also -they are few, and cannot harm us.” And the chiefs of Tovutovu agreed. -So messengers were sent to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> caves, saying, “Your <i>vasu</i> bid you -return and fear not.”</p> - -<p>So they returned and built houses upon their own earth and upon -the foundations of their ancestors, only they did not repair their -war-fences. And they planted yams, and dug them, and planted them -again, and still there was peace; but Bonawai pondered deeply in those -days how the payment might be accomplished.</p> - -<p>Now they took their first-fruits to Rara in token of submission, and -Bonawai presented them and said, “We are poor. All our chiefs are gone, -and only we, the low-born, remain to bring this poor offering to you, -our elder brothers. Payment has been made as is right; for between -brothers ill-will is buried when payment has been made, and alliances -are renewed for war against the stranger. But my words are too long -already—<i>Mana-e-dina!</i>”</p> - -<p>And the men of Rara answered, “<i>Va-arewa-ia-ē</i>,” and clapped their -hands.</p> - -<p>And that night Vasualevu of Rara, whose mother was a Valekau woman, -spoke to his <i>vasu</i>, and asked whether Bonawai’s words were double. -And they said, “Yes. We had a quarrel with you about a certain stick -with which fish are taken—a magic contrivance of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> foreigners—and -we burned your fortress, and you in turn burned ours. Thus there was -payment as is fitting between brothers. But with these low-born of -Tovutovu we had no quarrel, neither had ye, yet they burned both your -town and ours, and baked the bodies of your relations, and even now -they feed the pigs they took from Rara and Valekau. All this they did -though they are not our brothers, but strangers. Shall not payment be -taken for all these things?”</p> - -<p>And Vasualevu told the elders of Rara that night as they lay in the -great <i>bure</i>, and Dongai said, “Are the words true or false? Surely -they are true! What root of quarrel had we with this Tovutovu that -they clubbed our women and burned our fortress? But for them we should -not have been fugitives, oppressed of Korokula, for Valekau dared not -to fight us alone. Even now, perhaps, they laugh at us in Tovutovu, -and grow fat upon our pigs. Shall not payment be taken for all these -things?”</p> - -<p>And the elders said, “It is true. Let us send to Bonawai, the crafty, -to devise a plan.”</p> - -<p>So they sent a messenger to Valekau, and he said, “Go, tell the chiefs -of Rara that I have seen their great <i>bure</i>. It is ruinous, for the -king-post is rotten. Let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> Tovutovu cut them a new post.” Now this was -true, for when the <i>bure</i> was burned the king-post was not consumed, -and they rebuilt the house, using the old post.</p> - -<p>So the chiefs of Rara sent to Tovutovu, saying, “Help us to rebuild our -great <i>bure</i>, for the post is rotten. We have seen a <i>vesi</i>-tree seven -fathoms long, and of great girth, which two men with outstretched arms -cannot encompass. Let this be your work, for you are more numerous than -we.”</p> - -<p>And they said, “It is well.”</p> - -<p>And every day the young men cut reeds and bamboos for the house in the -plain across the river by Tovutovu, and cried to the people weeding -their yams, “Our task is near finished; only the king-post is wanting.”</p> - -<p>So the Tovutovu chiefs took the young men up the river to the great -<i>vesi</i>-tree, and lit a fire about it to burn up the sap, and cut it -down with their adzes. Then they lopped off the branches, and cut a -hole in the butt of the tree, and took vines as thick as a man’s thigh -and passed them through the hole, and dragged the tree inch by inch -on rollers till they got it into the river. And they made rafts of -bamboo, and bound them to the sides of the tree to make it lighter. -And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> when night came on they camped on the river-bank, where they could -hear the water swishing past the tree. And they sent a messenger to -Rara, saying, “The tree is fallen!” This was for a sign to them to make -ready for the feast, according to custom. And the messenger returned -and said, “Drag the post to Vatuloaloa, where the river widens, and no -farther; there we will make a feast, and bring the post to Rara on the -morrow.”</p> - -<p>So they toiled all the next day, dragging the post down the river, for -there had been no rain, and the water was very shallow. And when they -drew near Vatuloaloa they put on leaf girdles and blue conch-shells and -chanted—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>“E-mbia wanga é-mbi,</div> -<div>E-dua thombo, ié!”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and each time they cried <i>ié!</i> they hauled on the vine-rope with all -their strength, and the great tree moved on a step. And now they had -come to a place where the river was hemmed in with high cliffs, and -the bed was obstructed by great boulders that had fallen from above. -They could see the black rocks of Vatuloaloa below them. And there was -a shout from the cliffs above, and when they looked up they saw the -men of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> Rara standing on the edge, but instead of food-baskets they -had spears and war-fans in their hands, and their faces were painted. -And there came a shout from the cliff toward Tovutovu, and they looked -and saw the men of Valekau standing prepared for battle. And one said, -“What does Valekau here prepared for battle? Surely this is treachery!” -So they threw down the Vine-rope and shouted, “How is it?” And the -men of Valekau answered, “You shall be repaid to-day!” And they threw -great stones down on them as they stood waist-deep in the angry water, -and the men of Tovutovu fled, some up-stream and some down, splashing -the water high above them; but when they reached the low bank there -were armed men guarding them. Thus were they like a wild boar at bay -encircled by barking dogs. And in their madness they took stones from -the river-bed, and ran at the men of Valekau; but many were slain, and -those who escaped lay all day in the thick rushes, and saw a great -smoke rising from the plain where Tovutovu was, and knew that the doom -of their wives and children was accomplished. And when night was come -they crept from their hiding-places, and fled into the forest until the -remnant of them was gathered together there. Thus was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>Tovutovu wiped -out, and Rara and Valekau divided the spoil.</p> - -<p>And the remnant of them went up the river to Uthadamu, and dwelt there -many months. But their hearts yearned after their own land. So when -the yams were ripe they sent an embassy to Rara saying, “We are few -in number and in pitiable plight. We pray you, let us return again -to our own earth and the foundations of our ancestors, that we may -breathe again.” And the messenger returned, and said, “They accepted -the whales’ teeth and said, ‘It is well. Return.’” So they went back, -and built houses on their old foundations, and sent to Rara saying, -“Appoint a day when we shall bring you offerings of atonement.”</p> - -<p>And the elders of Rara spoke to the chiefs of Valekau, “Are we not -weary of war? Our young men thirst only for battle, and neglect the -food-plantations, so there is scarcity. It was not so when we were -young. Now therefore let us lay war aside, and make peace.”</p> - -<p>So they appointed a day when they should all meet together and take -counsel. And on the appointed day the men of Tovutovu brought whales’ -teeth and rolls of bark-cloth, and presented them to the chiefs of -Rara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> and Valekau as an offering of atonement. And Dongai said, “We -are met to-day to make peace, for we are all weary of war. Many brave -warriors are dead, and the land is empty. As for us of Rara, the war -did not come from us. We only repaid that which was done to us. To what -end has it been, this fighting between brothers?”</p> - -<p>Then Bonawai of Valekau spoke. “It is true, O chiefs of Rara, that the -war has been an evil one, for all our fortresses have been burned, and -the land is empty. But neither did the war begin with us. True it is -that the tree grows from the root, but there would be no root unless a -seed had first been sown. Chiefly do I blame you, chiefs of Rara, for -you were the cause of these wars. Have you forgotten that stick with -which fish are taken—a magic contrivance of the foreigners—by which -a man could stand and take fish until his arms fell to his sides from -weariness? This we sent to beg of you, and you churlishly refused.”</p> - -<p>The men of Rara bowed their heads, and picked at the ground. Then -Dongai spoke: “O chiefs of Valekau, it is true that ye sent to beg this -stick, but we hungered for fish, and—how could we give it, not having -yet seen its magic?—and—and——” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And ye knew not how to use it,” said Vasualevu.</p> - -<p>“Then,” said Nkio, the herald, “if it be peace show us now this magic -stick, for we know that ye have it hidden.”</p> - -<p>“We cannot show it to you.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“We dare not, lest the gods of the foreigners be angry.”</p> - -<p>“This is foolishness,” muttered the elders of Valekau. “What peace is -this when we ask and are refused? We pray you, show us the stick.”</p> - -<p>“Be not angry, O chiefs of Valekau, but in truth we know not where it -is.”</p> - -<p>Then the anger of Valekau was roused, and they said, “Ye are befooling -us! Have ye forgotten how ye refused us before?” And they began to go -out from the house.</p> - -<p>Then Koronumbu of Rara spoke. “Why do ye hide the truth in doubtful -sayings? Know then, chiefs of Valekau, that we never had this stick ye -speak of, but when ye sent to beg it of us shame came upon us that we -had it not, and we could not tell you, fearing that ye would despise -us.”</p> - -<p>There was silence for a space, and the elders of Rara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> sat with bowed -heads. Then Bonawai, the crafty, spoke, “See that ye tell no one, for -if the coast people hear this tale how shall we endure their ridicule -when they ask us, ‘Why went ye up against Rara? Did ye hunger for -fish?’ Therefore hide this thing, and let no one know it.”</p> - -<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3">[3]</a> A reed-lance tipped with ironwood (<i>toa</i>) with which the -game of <i>tinka</i> is played.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4">[4]</a> Women and children—non-combatants.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE FIRST COLONIST.</h2> - -<p>This is a true story, or at least it is as true as any other that -depends for its details upon tradition. It is the story of a man who -had an opportunity and used it; who, being but a shipwrecked sailor, -knew how to make himself feared and respected by the arrogant chiefs -who had him at their mercy; who tasted the sweets of conquest and -political power; and who brought about, albeit indirectly, the cession -of Fiji to England. Many have the dry bones of the story—how the -Swede, Charles Savage, a shipwrecked sailor or runaway convict, armed -with the only musket in the islands, raised Bau from the position of -a second-rate native tribe to be mistress of the greater part of the -group; and how after a few years of violence and bloodshed he was -killed and eaten by the people of Wailea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> who thus avenged hundreds -of their countrymen whom Savage had helped to bring to the ovens of -Bau. To clothe these dry bones with living flesh we must turn to -native tradition,—those curious records, often silent as to great -events, while preserving the most trivial details—often indifferent to -sequence, always disdainful of chronology.</p> - -<p>Fiji is linked to the rest of the Pacific by that romantic history, -stranger and more absorbing than any fiction, which ended in the -tragedy and the pastoral comedy of Pitcairn Island; for Lieutenant -Hayward, who was despatched from Tonga in a native canoe by Captain -Edwardes of the Pandora to search for the missing mutineers of the -Bounty, was the first white man of whose landing in Fiji we have any -authentic record. His visit was forgotten by the natives in the horror -of the great pestilence, the <i>Lila balavu</i>, or wasting sickness, the -first-fruits of their intercourse with the superior race. “From that -time,” says an epic of the day, “our villages began to be empty of -men, but in the time before the coming of the sickness every village -was so crowded that there was no space to see the ground between the -men, so crowded were they.” From this pestilence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> dated the custom -of strangling those sick of a lingering illness lest they should, in -the malignity of misery, spit upon the food and lie upon the mats of -the healthy, and thus make them companions in their suffering. No -wasting sickness was like the great <i>Lila</i>, for men and women lay till -the bark-clothes rotted from their bodies, and their heads seemed in -comparison to be larger than food-baskets; and they were so feeble that -they lacked the strength to pull down a sugar-cane to moisten their -parched throats unless four crawled out to lend their strength to the -task.</p> - -<p>Twelve years passed. The places of the dead were filled. The crops and -animals wasted in the funeral feasts were again abundant, when the men -of the eastern isles saw white men for the second time. On a night -in the year 1803 there was a great storm from the east. When morning -broke and the men of Oneata looked towards the dawn, they saw a strange -sight. On the islet Loa, that marks the great reef Bukatatanoa, red -streamers were waving in the wind. Strange beings, too, were moving on -the islet—spirits without doubt. There were visitors in Oneata, men of -Levuka in the island of Lakeba, offshoots in past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> time from distant -Bau, holding special privileges as ambassadors who linked the eastern -with the western islands. Two of these, bolder and more sophisticated -than the natives of the place, launched a light canoe and paddled -cautiously towards Loa. They gazed from afar, resting on their paddles, -and returned with this report: “Though they resemble men, yet they -are spirits, for their ears are bound up with scarlet, and they bite -burning wood.” Then the elders of Oneata took much counsel together, -wishing yet fearing to approach the spirits that were on Loa; but at -last they bade the young men launch the twin canoe Taiwalata, and -sailed for Loa. And as they drew near, the strange spirits beckoned -to them, until at last they drifted to the shore and took them into -the canoe to carry them to Oneata. But one of them they proved to be -mortal as themselves, for he was buried on Loa, being dead, whether of -violence or disease will never now be known. Here the traditions become -confused. There were muskets and ammunition in the wrecked ship, but -the men of Oneata knew nothing of their uses, else had the history of -Fiji perhaps been different. They hid the casks of powder to be used as -pigment for the face,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> and the ramrods to be ornaments for the hair. -And one of them, says the tradition, smeared the wet pigment over -hair and all, and when it would not dry as charcoal did, but lay cold -and heavy in the hair, he made a great fire in the house and stooped -his head to the blaze to dry the matted locks! None knew what befell. -There was a sudden flash, very bright and hot, and a tongue of flame -leaped from the head and licked the wall, and the chief sprang into the -rara with a great cry, for his hair was gone, and the skull was more -naked than on the day when he was born. It was, they said, the work of -spirits; and they used the black powder no more.</p> - -<p>The strangers had scarce landed when a second great pestilence broke -out. There is pathos in the fragmentary saga of the time which has been -handed down to us—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>“The great sickness sits aloft,</div> -<div>Their voices sound hoarsely,</div> -<div>They fall and lie helpless and pitiable,</div> -<div>Our god Dengei is put to shame,</div> -<div>Our own sicknesses have been thrust aside,</div> -<div>The strangling-cord is a noble thing,</div> -<div>They fall prone; they fall with the sap still in them.</div> -<div>* * * * * * *</div> -<div>A lethargy has seized upon the chiefs,</div> -<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>How terrible is the sickness!</div> -<div>We do not live; we do not die,</div> -<div>Our bodies ache; our heads ache,</div> -<div>Many die, a few live on,</div> -<div>The strangling-cord brings death to many,</div> -<div>The <i>malo</i> round their bellies rots away,</div> -<div>Our women groan in their despair,</div> -<div>The <i>liku</i> knotted round them they do not loose,</div> -<div>Hark to the creak of the strangling-cords,</div> -<div>The spirits flow away like running water, <i>ra tau e</i>.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Many of the foreigners never left Oneata alive. A doubtful tradition -ascribes their death to the pestilence; a more detailed says that they -were slain by the men of Levuka. As the natives believed them to be the -cause of the sickness, we may accept the more tragic of the two.</p> - -<p>It was a year of terror. Here is a fragment of another poem of the same -time:—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>“Sleeping in the night I suddenly awake,</div> -<div>The voice of the pestilence is borne to me, <i>uetau</i>,</div> -<div>I go out and wander abroad, <i>uetau</i>,</div> -<div>It is near the breaking of the dawn, <i>uetau</i>,</div> -<div>Behold a forked star, <i>uetau</i>,</div> -<div>We whistle with astonishment as we gaze at it, <i>uetau</i>,</div> -<div>What can it portend? <i>uetau</i>,</div> -<div>Does it presage the doom of the chiefs? <i>e e</i>.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>From contemporary traditions we gather that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> comet had three tails, -the centre tail being coloured and the two outer white; that it rose -just before daybreak, and that it was visible for thirty-seven nights -in succession. Was this the comet of 1803, or Donati’s? Here, as in -all ages and countries, the comet was believed to be an omen of coming -evil—not the ravages of the unknown plague, but the death of some -great chief. In like manner the comet of 1843 presaged the fall of -Suva, and that of 1881 the death of King Cakobau.</p> - -<p>Bau was now rising into fame. Her people, like their neighbours of the -Rewa delta, had swept down from the sources of the Rewa, the cradle -of the race, had for a time held a precarious footing among the older -tribes by dint of constant fighting, and had at last fought and schemed -their way to independence. Opposite to their stronghold Kubuna lay -the tiny island of Bau, protected from a land attack by two miles of -shallow sea.</p> - -<p>Bau, or Butoni as it was then called, was occupied by the chiefs’ -fishermen, who bartered their fish for the produce of the plantations -on the mainland. But the security of their island made them insolent, -and, to punish them, the chiefs resolved to attack and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> occupy their -village. The incursion was made about the year 1760, and the fishermen -were banished from the place for a time. With the help of their -dependants the chiefs scarped away the side of the hills and reclaimed -land from the shallow sea, facing it with slabs of stone. Thenceforth -Butoni was known as Bau, the place of chiefs.</p> - -<p>Secure in their island stronghold, the chiefs of Bau soon forgot -their common origin with the poor relations they had left behind on -the mainland to cultivate the plantations. The pursuit of arms has in -every age conferred aristocracy, while the cultivation of the food on -which warriors and cultivators alike exist has ever tended to sink men -to serfdom. Under Banuve, the son of Durucoko, Bau had begun to make -her power felt. Banuve had a definite policy; he tolerated no rivals. -When the chief of Cautata presumed on his relationship to Bau by his -mother, no warning was given him. He was attacked in the night, and his -stronghold of Oloi burned. Yet this harsh discipline failed to satisfy -his jealous kinsman. Intrenchments could be rebuilt, and half-beaten -tribes are doubly dangerous. Eight times was Cautata rebuilt, and -eight times was it reduced to ashes; nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> was there peace until earth -had been brought as a <i>soro</i>, and Cautata had acknowledged herself to -be a hewer of wood and a drawer of water for Bau. But Banuve did not -often risk open battle when there were so many who would fight for -fighting’s sake. In his day Bau was first known as the nest in which -plots were hatched, because Bau knew that the whale’s tooth proffered -to an ally in secret was a surer weapon than the club. When the comet -threw its glare over Bau, presaging evil, there were two States against -whom Banuve’s plots could not prevail. Seven miles north of the little -island was Verata, an intrenched fort in a deep bay that faces the -island of Viwa. Till Bau was colonised, Verata drew tribute from the -coast as far as Buretu, and the struggle for the mastery was ever -impending. To the southward was Dravo allied with Nakelo, too strong to -be yet attempted.</p> - -<p>Such was the position of Bau when the pestilence reached it, by means, -it is said, of a canoe from Ovalau. Cholera, dysentery, or whatever it -may have been, it struck chief and commoner alike. “Their limbs became -light, and when they would walk they reeled and fell, and where they -fell they lay; nor was there any to tend them, for all were stricken -alike. Then did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> war cease, for the strong warriors were stricken and -withered like the <i>daiga</i> that droops in the evening. They were as -men bereft of sense, for those who had strength launched the canoes -and sailed away, and the sick died more swiftly when there was none -left to bring them food: their bodies rotted in the houses, or were -devoured by the hogs. Yet the living could not escape by flight, for -the pestilence, borne on the wind that filled their sails, overtook -them even in the place whither they fled.... None can tell the terror -and the pity of that time.”</p> - -<p>From Bau, however, they did not attempt to escape, for the sickness -was raging on the mainland opposite to them, and beyond the mountains -there were none but enemies. They stayed and sickened and died, and -the last to die was Banuve, surnamed Sevuniqele (“the first-fruits”), -their Vunivalu. And his spirit went and stood on the bank of the -swift stream at Lelele, and Cema answered his cry, and brought to him -the vesi canoe on which chiefs only may embark. And he crossed the -eel-bridge and made ready his stone to throw at the great pandanus -by which the love of wives is proved. And his stone went true to the -mark. So he rested, knowing that his wives must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> soon follow him to -bear him company in the world of spirits. Nor did he wait in vain, for -on that very day four of his wives were strangled and buried with him -in the same tomb. Henceforth he was not Banuve, but Bale-i-vavalagi -(“He-who-fell-by-the-foreign-pestilence”). The doom of the forked star -had fallen.</p> - -<p>Banuve’s eldest son, Ra Matenikutu (“The lice-killer”), succeeded -naturally to the office of Vunivalu; but the rites of confirmation -could not be performed until the arrival of the men of Levuka, whose -peculiar province it is to conduct the ceremony. The traditions of -Oneata say that they took with them to Bau on this occasion one of the -white men; but the historians of Bau affirm that they came bringing -with them no strangers, but a canvas house and the first foreign -possessions seen by the Bauans.</p> - -<p>We shall never know now what became of the red-capped sailors cast upon -the reef at the ends of the earth in that stormy night of 1803. Perhaps -they perished of the disease they brought with them; perhaps, like -Gordon in the New Hebrides, they were sacrificed to the Manes of those -whose death they had unwittingly brought about. Their fate is not even -one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> of the thousand mysteries of the sea which men would fain solve.</p> - -<p>On the day fixed for the rite there was another portent. The sky was -cloudless at high noon, when the sun suddenly paled and turned to the -colour of blood. The air grew dark, the birds settled on the trees -to roost, and the stars came out. There was silence among the people -sitting before the spirit <i>bure</i>, Vatanitawake—the silence of a great -fear. Then the god entered into one of the priests, and he screamed -prophecies in the red darkness, foretelling war and the greatness of -Matenikutu, the son of Bale-i-vavalagi, and crying that the face of the -sun was red with the blood that he should shed.</p> - -<p>This dramatic scene was no invention of the elders of Bau, for the -tradition of the eclipse is to be found in Rewa, in Nakelo, and -in Dawasamu, and in every case the day is fixed as the day of the -confirmation of Ra Matenikutu. He saw many strange sights during his -stormy reign, but assuredly none more weird and terrible than this -scene in the lurid twilight, when he was declared Vunivalu.</p> - -<p>In that year there were other strange omens, foretelling the change of -the old order. The heavens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> rained lumps of ice, that broke down the -yam-vines and the stalks of the taro; and the people, touching them, -said that burning stars had fallen from heaven. There followed a great -storm. For many days the rain fell without ceasing, and the waters -rose. The basin of the Rewa river, draining half the island, was swept -with a torrent greater than any that have been seen before or since, -and the waters rose over the housetops, sweeping seawards in a roaring -muddy flood. The strong fled to the hills and saved their lives; the -sick and the aged were swept out to sea. When the waters subsided, the -face of the country was changed, for the flood had covered the land and -the reefs with a great layer of black earth. Thus were the flats of -Burebasaga raised above the reach of the water, and thus was the land -purged of the pestilence.</p> - -<p>And now the new order was at hand. In 1808 the American brig Eliza, -with 40,000 dollars from the River Plate, was wrecked on the reef of -Nairai Island. The crew were allowed to live. Some of them made their -way in the ship’s boats to another American vessel that chanced to -be lying at Bua Bay, ninety miles distant; five others, two of them -Chinamen, were carried by the natives to Verata; one, named<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> Charles -Savage, made his way to Bau in a canoe that chanced to be sailing -thither. The hull was looted by the natives, who used the silver -dollars—<i>lavo</i> they call them still, from their resemblance to the -bean of that name—as playthings to be skimmed along the shallow water, -or buried with the posts of a new house. Eighty years have passed, -and though many sailors have deserted their ships with the purpose of -enriching themselves from this lost treasure, and the natives have long -ago learned the value of money, these records of the wreck are still -occasionally found.</p> - -<p>As soon as Savage reached Bau he besought Ra Matenikutu to send him to -Nairai to search for a thing he wanted from the wreck, and when this -was not granted he promised that if the thing were brought to him he -would make Bau pre-eminent above all her enemies, even over Rewa and -Verata. The thing they were to look for was like a <i>ngata</i> club, but -heavier, and they must also find a black powder such as men use to -paint their faces for war. The messengers searched diligently. They -found the black powder, but none knew this thing of which the White man -spoke. But at the last, when they were wearied with the search, one -remembered that a <i>ngata</i> club<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> of a strange pattern had been built -into a yam-house set up to hold the crop that was but just dug. There -they found it, as the ridge-pole of the yam-shed, the weapon that -should enable Bau to crush her rivals, and should bring even her at -last under the dominion of a stronger than she.</p> - -<p>When they returned to Bau, Savage took the thing to his house, and shut -the doorway that no one might see. “And presently he bade Naulivou -summon all the elders of Bau to the <i>rara</i> before the <i>bure</i> of the -war-god Cagawalu—the same that was the untimely birth of the woman of -Batiki—and there on the seaward side he set on end the deck-plank of a -canoe; and he went with his weapon and stood before the foundation of -the <i>bure</i>. Then he cried to the elders to watch the deck-plank, and he -aimed and fired. And the people, knowing nothing of what would happen, -dashed their heads upon the ground so that the blood flowed, and they -were angry that the white man had not told them what he would do. He -did not listen to them, but only pointed to the plank that the lead -had pierced, saying that so would he slay the enemies of Bau. Then the -young men took their spears and clamoured to be led against Verata; but -Savage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> bade them be silent, saying that they could not prevail against -the place while there were white men like himself within the town. And -he took a piece of white <i>masi</i>, and mixed water with the powder so -as to make a black pigment, and with a reed split into many points he -painted words upon the <i>masi</i>, and put it in a gourd and fastened the -gourd to a stick.</p> - -<p>“Then a canoe was made ready to carry him to Verata, where the other -white men were. But they could go no farther than the point of the bay -where the beach is open, for this was the frontier of Verata, and they -were enemies. Here they set up the stick with the gourd hanging to it; -and afterwards they sailed near to the town, but out of bow-shot, and -shouted to the people to go and take the gourd. Now within the gourd -were words from Savage to the white men bidding them leave Verata and -come to Bau, which, he said, was the stronger, and a land of chiefs, -where they would live unharmed.”</p> - -<p>“On the next day these men fled to Bau in a canoe which they had taken, -and the forces were made ready to go against Verata. In the first canoe -went Savage with his musket. When they were near the town he made -them lower the sail and pole the canoe into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> shallow water close -to the moat. And the warriors in the town ran up and down behind the -moat and taunted them, but their arrows fell short of the canoe. Then -Savage stood up and shot at a man standing on the bank of earth beating -the air with his club, and he fell forward into the moat. And all the -others ran to him to see his hurt, and there was silence for a moment -while they wondered, and fear gathered in their hearts. Then Savage -loaded his piece again and fired at the men as they stooped over him -that was wounded, and another fell; and panic seized the rest, and they -fled behind the war-fence. Then Savage fired many times at the fence, -and the lead passed through the banana-stumps that arrows could not -pierce, and wounded the men that stood behind; for it was not until -the bow gave place to the musket that the war-fence was made of earth. -Then the men of Verata began to flee, and Savage leaped from the canoe -and ran to tear down the fence. But as he broke through it a warrior of -Verata, who stood just within, stabbed him in the side with his spear. -The men of Bau who followed close upon him seized the man before he -could escape, and bound him, and took him to the canoes, and he was -afterwards slain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> at Bau and baked in the ovens. Meanwhile the warriors -from the other canoes were burning the houses and taking the spoil to -the canoes, and clubbing all who had not escaped except a few of the -women, who might serve as slaves for Bau. They took also a few of the -men as prisoners to be slain at the <i>bure</i> of the war-god and cooked in -the ovens. Thus was the power of Verata broken.</p> - -<p>“They carried Savage to his own house. Here he had hung a hammock of -sail-cloth between the posts, and in this he was laid, for he had lost -much blood. But when the old men came with their <i>losi</i>-sticks and -other implements to perform <i>cokalosi</i> on his body, they found him -swinging in his hammock and swearing strange oaths with the pain of his -wound. Nor would he let them touch him, but rather cursed them when he -understood what they would do, and called for water to pour upon his -wound.</p> - -<p>“Bau fought no more till Savage was recovered of his wound. None dared -touch his musket, for he had told them that there was magic in it that -would kill any that touched it except himself; nor did the other white -men dare to take it, for he had threatened them that if any disobeyed -him he would require his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> death at the hands of the chief, who would -refuse him nothing.”</p> - -<p>When his wound was healed and he could move about the town, they -prepared to make him <i>koroi</i> for the number of the enemy that he had -killed. In Fiji, when a man had slain another in battle, he was led to -the <i>bure</i> with great honour and dedicated to the god; his old name was -taken from him, and a new name, with the prefix of “Koroi” (signifying -“dwelling of”), was given to him in its place. A stone’s-throw from -Bau lies the little islet of Nailusi, on which Ra Matenikutu had -built a house for his wives after it had been enlarged with stones -carried from the reef. To this islet was Savage taken by several of -the elders. There they stripped off his shirt and painted his face and -breast with black paint and turmeric, though he mocked the while at -their mummeries, protesting that he was cold. When all was ready they -embarked again in the canoe with their spears, and landed opposite -to the war-god’s <i>bure</i>, where the priests and the old men were -sitting. Here the warriors that were to be made “koroi,” taught by the -elders, poised their spears and crept slowly on the temple, dancing -the <i>cibi</i>, the death-dance. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> Savage, painted and festooned like -the rest, but wearing his trousers, went with them; but he would not -dance to the chant of the old men. They planted their spears hung with -streamers against the wall of the temple, and took new spears from the -attendants. At night the feast was apportioned, and there was a great -dance that lasted till the sun was high on the next morning. And when -the dance was ended the chosen warriors brought offerings and piled -them in the <i>rara</i>, and as each approached the priests called his new -title. And after them all came Savage, bringing nothing but his musket, -and the priest cried “Koroi-na-Vunivalu,” a more honourable title -than them all. But when they were taken into the <i>bure</i> and forbidden -to bathe or eat with their hands for the space of four days, Savage -scoffed fiercely at the priests who besought him to comply with their -customs, and broke the <i>tabu</i>, leaving the <i>bure</i>, and going to his own -home.</p> - -<p>From this time they made Savage greater than any save the Vunivalu; -some say, indeed, that greater honours were paid to him than to Ra -Matenikutu himself. He was a chief of the tribe by adoption, not a -foreigner as the others were. Two ladies were given him to wife, the -daughters of the spiritual chief<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> and of the Vunivalu himself, and -a great house was built for him at Muaidele, on the borders of the -fishermen’s town of Soso. We hear little of the other white men who -were living at Bau. They took wives, and ate and drank and slept, while -Savage sat in the councils of the tribe. Children were born to them, -but they were all destroyed except Maraia, the daughter of Savage by -a woman of Lomaloma—she who was afterwards married by force to the -master of the Manila ship before he was murdered by his crew. She died -in 1875.</p> - -<p>Verata had given her submission with the basket of earth, and her -enmity was no longer to be feared. The rival of Bau now lay to the -southward. Through the system of navigable creeks in the delta of the -Rewa river there was a water highway to Rewa, interrupted only by a -narrow isthmus, over which the canoes had to be dragged. Commanding -this isthmus stood Nakelo, whose strength no enemy had broken. Nakelo -had refused to the Bau canoes the right of passing their town, and had -compelled the messengers between Bau and Rewa to make the long and -tedious journey by sea. The conquest of Nakelo would therefore be the -first step towards the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>sovereignty of the fertile delta. Savage took -entire command of this expedition. He ordered them to plait a litter -of sinnet large enough to hold him, and dense enough to turn arrows. -On one side a slit was left as an embrasure for the musket, but the -rest of it was arrow-proof. Then poles were fixed to it as handles, -and Savage was carried round the town of Bau to test its strength. The -force went against Nakelo by water, taking the litter in the canoes. -When they were near to the place and could see the embankment crowned -with the war-fence, Savage chose from among his followers two of the -strongest and most fearless, and ordered them to set the litter down -within bow-shot of the walls, and then to run back to their comrades, -for he would engage the enemy alone. No sooner was the litter set -down than it was stuck as full of arrows as the spines of an echinus. -But when the garrison saw that there was but one man against them and -no ambush, they were bolder, and made as if they would leave their -defences and rush down upon him. For this Savage was waiting. As they -mounted on the fence to take the better aim with their bows he fired -through the embrasure of his litter, and a chief among them fell. The -rest stood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> helpless with terror, until he had loaded and fired again. -Then, as at Verata, a panic seized them, and one among them took a mat -and held it up to ward off the lead from the wounded chief as if he -would ward off arrows; but the bullets pierced this also and wounded -him who held it. Then they fled. And the warriors of Bau, who had been -waiting out of bow-shot, leaped over the fence into the town, clubbing -all they met and shouting their death-cry. So Nakelo the invincible -was burned, and many prisoners were taken to Bau, to be dashed against -the temple-stone and baked in the ovens. Savage was given of the -captive women as many as he would take, and he gave them to the other -foreigners that were in Bau. And the chief of Nakelo fled to Rewa, and -sent from thence his submission by the hand of Matainakelo, craving -leave to rebuild his village. So Ra Matenikutu took the whale’s teeth, -but ordered the men of Nakelo to dig a canal through the isthmus that -obstructed the water-way, and henceforward to suffer canoes from Bau to -pass to Rewa without hindrance, for the Queen of Rewa was a Bauan lady. -And Nakelo dug a ditch into which the water could wash at high tide, -and the swift current did the rest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> making the wide channel through -which we pass to-day.</p> - -<p>And now the power of Bau was swelled by the fame of these victories. -Broken tribes, fleeing from their enemies in Vugalei, came to Ra -Matenikutu, asking leave to settle on his waste lands in return for -the tribute they would pay him for protection. Thus did Namara become -<i>bati</i> to Bau; for when they chanced to meet the chief at Kubuna where -they had come for salt, and he gave them a shark and a sting-ray -to eat, there was a friendly contest between two of them that were -brothers, as to which of them should be clubbed by the other as an -offering to the great chief in return for the fish; and their cousin -hearing the dispute cried, “You speak as if a man were as precious as a -banana. What is a man’s life? Let the elder be clubbed.” So the younger -clubbed him and presented his body to the chief. And when he knew what -they had done he was grieved, and bade them bury the body there and not -cook it; and he said, “I wanted no return for the fish, but ye have -shown that ye are true men. Return to your place, and bring your wives -and children, and come and settle on this land, and cultivate it, and -be my borderers, for I have need of true men.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> - -<p>There is no need to tell of how Buretu and Kiuva were subdued, and -Tokatoka was driven out, until there remained only Rewa that was not -subject to Bau. Against all these Bau prevailed through Savage, who -ever led her forces with his musket. Other ships called in the group -for sandal-wood, and left deserters and discharged seamen, attracted by -the news of the dollars stored at Nairai, to swell the foreign colony -at Bau—Graham from Sydney, Mike Maccabe and Atkins discharged from the -“City of Edinburgh.” These men, and three others whose names are lost, -lived together in a house between Soso and the chief’s town, practising -every native custom except cannibalism, and far surpassing them in one -form of licence. When a ship called for a cargo of sandal-wood, they -would hire themselves out to pull the boats at a wage of £4 a-month, -to be paid in knives, tools, and beads, which clothed them with a -brief importance among the natives of Bau when they returned; but, -for the rest, the natives looked on them with scorn and fear, as men -with the manners of beasts and as breakers of the <i>tabu</i>. There came a -day when one of the tributary tribes of Bau brought a great offering -of food to the chief, Savage being absent with the army. The yams and -turtle were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> piled in the <i>rara</i> opposite the dwelling of the white -men. Here it was apportioned by the chief’s <i>mata</i>; but when he called -out the names of those who were to come and take a share, he did not -cry the names of the white men. These then became very angry, and -two of them, less prudent than the others, ran into the <i>rara</i> with -their knives and slashed at the heap of yams, trampling the food under -foot. Now the Fijians will endure any insult before this, and when -the tidings reached the town every man caught up his weapon and ran -towards Soso. But the white men were armed and ready, and as they came -on three muskets flashed out from the dark doorways and three fell. And -when they rushed on again it was the same. Many fell that day by the -muskets; but the Bauans knew them to be but three, and their thirst for -the blood of the white men only grew the stronger. Then one of them ran -and took a firestick, and bound dry <i>masi</i> round it, and flung it into -the thatch on the windward side, and the wind fanned it into flame. -Still, though the white men knew that the house was burning, they would -not leave it, for they saw the clubs brandished without, and knew that -there was no escape. At last, when they could bear the heat no longer, -they ran out, hoping to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> reach the water, and two of them leapt into -the sea and dived, swimming out to sea; but three were clubbed and -slain as they ran. And while the men were preparing to follow those -who were escaping by swimming, the words came from the chief to spare -them. Thus were Graham and Buschart spared—the first to perish more -miserably at Wailea, and the other to be the means of discovering the -fate of De la Pérouse.</p> - -<p>Savage had now the government of the group in his own hands. He had -raised Bau to the mastery of the surrounding tribes; he could determine -the future policy of the Bau chiefs; he had food, and man-servants, -and women as many as his soul could desire. Yet there was one thing -the lack of which poisoned all his existence. He had neither liquor -nor tobacco; and what earthly paradise could be complete to a sailor -of those days unless he had the power of getting drunk? It was this -want, together with the necessity of maintaining his influence by the -possession of the tools and muskets so eagerly coveted by the natives, -that led him to take his last journey from Bau. In May 1813 news -reached Bau that a large ship was anchored on the Bua coast, ninety -miles distant, to load sandal-wood. From the description of the vessel -the whites knew her to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> the East Indian ship Hunter, for which some -of them had worked during the preceding year. It was arranged with -the chiefs that in three months an expedition should be despatched -to Bua to bring them back, so that they might not be left among the -treacherous natives of that coast. Taking their wives with them, they -reached the ship without accident, and were employed to pull the boats -at the usual wage.</p> - -<p>Maraia, Savage’s daughter, remembered his last night in Bau, though she -was then but four years old. She was alone in the house when her father -came in and opened the sea-chest, which he always kept locked. From -this he took a string of bright objects that glittered and flashed in -the light from the door. Her exclamation startled him, for he thought -that he was alone. He told her that he was going away for a long time, -and that he must therefore hide his property in a place of safety. Then -he kissed her and went out, taking a canoe to the mainland. She was -asleep when he returned, and the canoe sailed for Bua before she awoke. -She never saw him again. Perhaps his treasure was a string of silver -dollars that still lies buried somewhere on the land opposite Bau. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> - -<p>The second mate of this ship was Peter Dillon, the lively Irishman -who was afterwards made a Chevalier of the Legion d’Honneur for his -services in finding the remains of De la Pérouse’s expedition. His -story of the death of Savage and of his own escape has become, as it -deserves, a classic in Polynesian literature. The sandal-wood had been -coming in too slowly to suit the captain of the Hunter, and a bargain -was at last struck between Captain Robson and the chief of Wailea, that -if he would help them against their enemies they for their part would -fill the ship within two months. On April 4 the crew, in three armed -boats, accompanied by about 4000 of the natives, laid siege to the town -of Nabakavu and took it, killing eleven of the enemy and destroying -several villages. The bodies were there and then jointed, cleaned, -baked in stone ovens, and eaten by the victorious natives, after which -the boats returned to the ship. Four months passed away and two-thirds -of the cargo were still wanting, when the chiefs sent a message to say -that they could get no more sandal-wood. Nor would they come near the -ship for fear of being taken as hostages. The captain now resolved to -punish his old allies. Accordingly he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> attacked a fleet of their canoes -and captured fourteen of them with a loss to the natives of one man. -At this juncture two canoes arrived from Bau with a force of about 220 -men under the command of Tabakaucoro and Matavutuvutua, the brothers -of the Vunivalu, and Namosimalua, the chief of Viwa, afterwards one of -the first Christian converts. Their ostensible object was to escort -the white men and their wives back to Bau, but they did not intend to -return with empty hands. The captain now determined to capture and -destroy the canoes that were left to the people of Wailea, lest they -might annoy him during the repairing of his tender. On September 6, -1813, the crew of the ship and about a hundred of the Bau warriors -landed armed near the village, and proceeded towards it without any -attempt to maintain order. They did not know that the few natives -who were retiring before them, using the most taunting and insulting -gestures, were “the bait for the net,” and a certain indication that -they were walking into an ambush. They reached a small village and set -it on fire, and as the flames shot up they heard a horrible uproar -from the path they had just traversed. The Bau chiefs knew the cries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> -for the <i>vakacaucau</i> or death-cry of the Wailea, signifying that they -had killed an enemy. The ambush had fallen upon the straggling party -in the rear. Dillon and his companions now tried to fight their way -back to the boats; but after emptying their muskets into the crowd of -infuriated savages, they were driven to take refuge on the crest of -a little hill. Only six of them reached it: the Bau chiefs and two -of the white men from Bau were clubbed in the plain below. The party -on the hill were Dillon, Savage, Buschart, Luis, a Chinaman who was -wrecked with Savage in the Eliza, and two sailors from the Hunter. It -was not yet mid-day; their ammunition was nearly exhausted, and they -were hemmed in by many hundreds of infuriated natives, all sworn not -to let them escape. From the top of the little hill they could see -their boats at anchor, and the ship in the offing. Beneath them in -the plain they saw the enemy carrying the bodies of their comrades, -slung across poles, to the shade of some trees, where they were cut up -and wrapped in green banana-leaves, to be roasted with the taro. But -first they were set in a sitting posture, and insulted with unnameable -indignities, while musket-balls were fired into them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> The natives made -several rushes at the hill, and were driven back by the steady fire -of the little party. But the position was so appalling that Savage -proposed an escape into the mangrove at the back of the hill, and was -only prevented from doing so by Dillon’s threat to shoot the first man -that left the hill. Most fortunately for Dillon’s party, there were -eight prisoners on board the Hunter who had been captured by Captain -Robson in his attack upon the canoes a few days before. As soon as the -natives became calm enough to listen to Savage, they were reminded that -these men were still alive, that one of them was the brother of the -priest of Wailea, and that as soon as the news of their death reached -the ship the prisoners would assuredly be sacrificed. The natives had -hitherto supposed these men to have met the usual fate of prisoners of -war. The priest now pressed forward, asking eagerly whether they were -speaking the truth, and Savage (the unblushing Dillon says that it was -he himself, but he also says that he could speak the language perfectly -in four months, and gives some curious specimens of his proficiency) -promised that if one of their number were taken to the ship the -prisoners would be released, and a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> ransom be paid for the lives -of himself and his companions. These terms being agreed upon, Dafny, -the wounded sailor, was induced to trust himself to the protection of -the priest, and was seen to embark in a canoe and reach the ship in -safety. Soon after his departure a number of the chiefs came within a -few paces of the crest of the hill and spoke in the most friendly way -to Savage, promising him safe-conduct if he would go down among them. -So convinced was he of their sincerity that he urged Dillon to let him -go down, assuring him that by so doing he could obtain safe-conduct -for all. Having at last won his consent, he left his musket and went -down to a spot about two hundred yards from the base of the hill, -where the chief Vonasa was sitting. For a time they seemed to be on -friendly terms, and the natives tried their utmost to persuade Dillon -to follow Savage’s example, saying, “Come down, Peter, we will not hurt -you; you see we do not hurt Charlie.” At this moment the Chinaman, -Savage’s former shipmate, stole away from behind Dillon to claim the -protection of a chief to whom he had rendered former service in war. He -had scarcely reached the foot of the hill when the natives, seeing that -it was hopeless to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> persuade Dillon to come down, yelled their war-cry -and rushed up the hill to the attack. Savage was seized suddenly by -the legs and thrown down, and was then held by six men with his head -in a pool of water near to which he had been standing, until he was -suffocated, while at the same moment a powerful native came behind -the Chinaman and smashed his skull with his club. The two bodies were -immediately disembowelled, cut up, and wrapped in leaves to be baked in -the ovens.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the chiefs furiously incited their men to capture the hill -with a rush. There were four muskets between the three defenders. -Wilson, being a bad shot, was kept loading while the other two fired. -Buschart, an old rifleman, shot twenty-seven men with twenty-eight -shots: Dillon seldom missed. In the face of these heavy losses the men -would not respond to their chiefs, but kept off, shouting defiance. -The ovens containing the bodies of the men killed in the morning were -now opened, and the roast joints of human flesh distributed among the -different chiefs, assembled from all parts of the coast, with the same -order and ceremony as is used in the apportionment of feasts on public<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> -occasions. From time to time the chiefs shouted to Peter to come down -before it grew too dark to cook his body properly, and boasted of the -number of white men they each had killed. To his reply, that if they -killed him their countrymen on board the ship would suffer, they cried -that the captain might kill and eat his prisoners if he chose, but that -they meant to kill and eat him (Peter) as soon as it grew dark enough -to approach him without being shot. Dillon’s greatest fear was that -they would be tortured. He had heard from Savage stories of the flaying -and branding of prisoners, of eyelid-cutting and nail-drawing, and he -resolved to use the last cartridges upon himself and his companions.</p> - -<p>Late in the afternoon the little party were horrified to see the boat -returning from the ship with all the eight hostages. They believed that -the captain would take the precaution of releasing four only until -they were safe on board, but now they had no longer any lien upon the -mercy of their assailants. As soon as they landed, the hostages were -led unarmed up the hill by the priest, who delivered an imaginary -message from the captain, bidding them hand over the muskets to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> him -and return to the ship. While he was haranguing Buschart, the idea of -seizing him flashed across Dillon’s mind. It was a desperate expedient, -but they were in a desperate plight. He suddenly presented his musket -at the man’s head, swearing that he would shoot him dead unless he led -him safely to the boat. The priest was the only man among the natives -who possessed sufficient influence to keep the infuriated warriors -in check. He was taken by surprise, and did not attempt to escape. -Shouting to his people to sit down, he led the strange procession down -the hill, through the angry multitude, now silent under protest, and -on to the beach, walking slowly with a musket-muzzle at each ear, and -another between his shoulders. Arrived at the beach, he said that he -would rather be shot than move another step towards the boats. The -whites backed into the water, still covering him with their muskets, -until they reached the boats. Then, as they pushed off, the natives -rushed down and sent a shower of harmless arrows and stones after them. -Six of the crew and eight of the white men from Bau had perished.</p> - -<p>On the following morning Dillon made an <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>unsuccessful attempt to -recover the bones of the Europeans. A native flourished the thigh bones -of the first mate, but refused to part with them, saying that they were -to be made into sail-needles.</p> - -<p>The canoes had set sail for Bau with some fifty of their company -wounded. They had not communicated with the ship, and had therefore -left behind two Europeans and a number of their women. The ship -sailed the same day, and being unable to land her native passengers -at Bau, carried them on to New South Wales. Buschart and a Lascar -were, however, landed at Tucopia, where they were found thirteen years -afterwards, and were instrumental in the discovery of the remains of De -la Pérouse’s ill-fated expedition.</p> - -<p>So gross an insult as the slaughter of two of the Vunivalu’s brothers -could not go unpunished. On the return of the canoes the indignation -in Bau was intense. A strong expedition was at once fitted out, and -before the end of the year Wailea was in ashes, and Vonasa and half his -tribe had followed their victims to Naicobocobo. Many were slain in the -sack of the town, but a few were carried captive to Bau to glut the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> -vengeance of Vunivalu himself. There, at the mercy of their captors, -they died such a death as amply avenged the chiefs who fell at Wailea.</p> - -<p>Thus did Charles Savage, the Swede, meet a death in harmony with his -stormy life, and with the fate that he had brought upon so many others. -His works followed him. Epic poems, now half-forgotten, were composed -in his honour. With the descendants of the people among whom he lived -he has almost attained the dignity of a legendary hero, and but for -their conversion to Christianity he would undoubtedly have been given -a place in their Pantheon. He is remembered while all that is left of -the gigantic and heroic Dillon is the name of the little hill that -saved his life in Wailea Bay. Though the tragedy itself is almost -forgotten, the knoll is still called Koroi-Pita (Peter’s Hill). Through -Savage, Bau rose to a rank among her sister tribes that she never -forfeited. When the growing intercourse with foreigners demanded the -recognition of Fiji as a people obeying acknowledged leaders, Bau fell -naturally into the place of sovereign over all her rival States, and as -possessing power to cede to England the territory of all for the common -good.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> Therefore in time to come, when some historian, weary of seeking -an untried field for his pen, turns to Fiji, he will, in valuing the -political forces that have led to this end, give a leading place to the -deeds of Charles Savage, the first colonist.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad1.jpg" alt="SELECTED WORKS" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad2.jpg" alt="SELECTED WORKS" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTH SEA YARNS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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