O’Hara in Love—Fae Fae’s Midnight Elopement—Chased—A
Melodramatic Race for Life—The Innocence of
Eve—Temptation—The Lost Bride—The Madness of
Romance—Outbound for Honolulu.
I HAD just returned from an engagement where I had performed violin
solos at the French Presidency concert, when I met O’Hara again. I was
sitting in the wooden café at Selao at the time.
“Well, what’s the matter now?” I said, as O’Hara greeted me. I noticed
that he looked rather mournful.
“Pal, I’m not going to be done; I’ve made up my mind to marry the girl
Fae Fae, and be damned to her old nigger chief, Tautoa!”
One can imagine my astonishment as O’Hara blurted out the foregoing, for
I had no knowledge whatever that he had seen Fae Fae since we had first
seen the girl dancing round an idol in the forest. Slowly the truth came
out. It appeared that O’Hara had been secretly meeting Fae Fae every
night since the idol adventure. Things had come to such a pass that Fae
Fae had agreed to bolt from the palace and marry him.
“What’s the trouble, then? Don’t you want to marry her?” said I, as
O’Hara finished a glowing account of Fae Fae’s affection for him.
Then O’Hara made a further confession. It appeared that, in his usual
careless way, he had been overbold, and so had spoiled his chance of
wooing Fae Fae on the sly. He had gone to the Queen’s palace one night,
and had serenaded Fae Fae on the guitar, like some old-time Spanish
cavalier. This mad act had got Fae Fae into trouble, for she, in her
impulsive way, had rushed from the palace stockade gate straight into
O’Hara’s arms. It so happened that Tautoa, the chief to whom Fae Fae was
betrothed, caught them in each other’s arms! And my chum had made
matters worse, for he had managed to give Tautoa a black eye in the
mêlée that followed his mad presumption. It appeared that Fae Fae was
now under strict surveillance. And, more, the head chiefs had laid a
charge at the Government Presidency about the matter. And I believe
that, even at that early date, a warrant was out for the arrest of
O’Hara for disturbing the peace and forcing his presence on a native
maid of royal blood. When O’Hara first unfolded his plans for abducting
Fae Fae, I endeavoured to reason with him.
“It’s ridiculous, pal. You’re talking like a South Sea novel. You can’t
seize a beautiful girl of royal blood, a princess, and carry her away
from the palace like some old freebooter of the southern seas. Besides,
we’ll be arrested by the gendarmes. And there’s the old Queen to be
considered, her consort, her son, and, last and not least, Fae Fae’s
legitimate lover, Tautoa.”
O’Hara used a quite unprintable word as I mentioned that last name. Then
he stared as though I were mad, and said:
“Me! talking like a novel! I mean to have her.”
His eyes flashed as he blurted out his plans, telling me how easy it was
to steal a girl and bolt off into the mountains! His chest swelled
visibly over his thoughts. Holding up his glass of vile Papeete beer in
one hand, melodramatic fashion, he lifted his chin and burst into some
Irish song that told of maids clasped in the arms of impassioned lovers.
As he finished his extemporization, the native girls who were standing
at the shanty’s door, murmured, “Yorana! Yorana!” One dusky Tahitian
belle, with large, lustrous eyes, crossed her bare, smooth arms and one
timid knee, and, as she leaned against the door frame, gave a delicious
pout, telling with admiring eyes all that a romantic maid can tell when
gazing on a man whose favour she yearns to gain.
Though I had sought by wordy wisdom to persuade O’Hara to abandon his
mad idea of abducting Fae Fae from Pomare’s palace, my heart was as
enthusiastic about it all as was his own. The philosophy of the first
fine careless rapture of youth was mine. I felt I was out in the world
to live, if somewhat faintly, some of the glorious romance that poets
wrote about. I well knew that the great crabbed philosophies were
written by perished feathered quills on musty parchments, quills that
once fluttered on living wings among the blossoming boughs. I knew that
no pen, however inspired, could sing the impassioned philosophy of life
as the throbbing red throat of the brown thrush can sing, or as O’Hara
and I could live it. And, so, I must confess that the idea of the
breadfruit sighing as we sat awaiting the sunset’s close and O’Hara
impatiently watching for the favourable moment to abduct a Tahitian
princess from a pagan palace on a South Sea isle, seemed the perfect
music and the most noble endeavour of the Psalm of Life!
For several moments I compressed my brows as though in deepest
meditation over the wisdom or folly of doing what O’Hara proposed.
He watched me closely, then suddenly gripped my hand.
“Pal, I’m with you; it shall be done,” I said.
My Irish comrade was satisfied. He knew me. I hadn’t stowed away on
sailing and tramp ships, and lived with rats in coal bunkers on long
voyages across tropic seas, without looking a bit determined when I had
really made up my mind—well—to make a fool of myself!
I knew that Queen Pomare of Tahiti was allowed a certain amount of
authority over her people. Though aged, she was an attractive,
powerful-looking woman. It was also hinted by the officials that she
still leaned towards her old creed. However that may have been, her
retinue was made up of many old-time, ex-cannibal chiefs. One had only
to go by night up the mountain slopes by Tamao to hear the low chanting
of festival sounds coming from the solitary palace, sounds that were
suspiciously like the wild night-wassailing of some frenzied
heathenland!
The very next night we made our plans. O’Hara smacked me on the back,
and called down the blessings of the Virgin on my head for helping a pal
in trouble. It was finally settled that we should set out on our
romantic, risky adventure after dusk, the very next day.
The inevitable hour arrived. I stood beneath the palms at the arranged
spot.
“Are you ready, pal?” said O’Hara, as he met me.
“I am!” said I; and then added: “I suppose you are determined to attempt
to abduct Fae Fae?”
“By the holy Virgin, yes!” he muttered.
“I can rely upon you that the maid knows of your intentions, and has
agreed to bolt off into the mountains with you?” said I.
O’Hara gave a scornful laugh. It was then he told me that old Tapee had
slipped, under the cover of night, into the palace, and had bribed one
of the sentinels to deliver his _billet-doux_ into Fae Fae’s hands.
“Ho! so that’s how you’ve managed it all, is it?” I answered.
I felt much relief; for I will admit that I knew O’Hara well enough to
realize that he was likely to go off and seize a maid who knew nothing
of his coming. At hearing that old Tapee was in the secret, I felt
cheered up, and had greater faith in the result of the expedition. So
off I went, down the forest track with O’Hara, on the wildest adventure
into which I have ever plunged. We crept across the lonely Broome Road,
and passed under the shades of the giant breadfruit trees. The stars
were shining. Hardly a breath of wind disturbed the leaves of the
mountain palms. O’Hara clutched me by the arms, as though he were afraid
I might change my mind—and make a bolt.
“I’m game; don’t worry. I’ll see you through,” said I.
“Faith and be shure, you’re a good pal,” said my adventurous, amorous
comrade.
Taking a large flask from his pocket, he handed it to me. Though not an
imbiber of proof spirit, I took rather a bold nip, feeling that a little
extra Dutch courage might not be amiss ere the night was out! We had
arrived at the outskirts of the large cultivated space that half
surrounded Queen Pomare’s palace stockade. As we passed through the
arcades, constructed by Nature’s brooding handiwork of interlacing
branches of tropical undergrowth twining round the first pillars of
giant trees, my heart fluttered slightly.
“Is it some mad dream?” I thought, as we stood on the little moonlit
slope that faced the palatial stockade of Pomare’s dwelling. Standing
there, by O’Hara’s side, I peeped down the palm-terraced groves and
spotted the large one-storied, verandahed building. It had an ominous
look about it. Then O’Hara took me up a track where I had never been
before.
“Keep in the shadows; don’t expose yourself, for God’s sake!” he
whispered, as we stole onward.
We arrived among the thickets of dense bamboos growing by the wooden
gate that was the side entrance to the palace. We stood perfectly still
and waited. O’Hara gave a low whistle. Our hearts beat like muffled
drums as we stood there. I looked at the dim outline of the palace. All
was silent, phantom-like, in the rising moonlight. Only one small light
flickered in the little latticed window-hole by the main entrance.
“What’s that light?” quoth I in a hushed voice.
“It’s where the Queen sleeps,” replied my pal.
“Is it really?” I whispered, as I thought in some mad way of the old
romantic novels that I had read in my schooldays.
Yes, and there was I, sure enough, with a mad Irishman, outside a
barbarian’s palace, awaiting the psychological moment to seize a heathen
princess!
We must have stood there for half an hour before O’Hara gave the fourth
whistle and said, “She’s being watched, that’s what it is; otherwise,
begorra, she’d have come out of that gate before now.”
“What shall we do now?” said I, feeling fit for any emergency as the
spirit commenced to take effect. The romance of the whole situation
began to bubble, to thrill in my soul. Indeed, I had become as
enthusiastic as O’Hara over the prospective elopement of Fae Fae.
“Old pal,” said he, “I’m going into the palace to seize her; that’s what
I’m going to do!”
“Good Lord, really!” said I, as visions arose of dramatic scenes that
might ensue when we got into that eerie-looking, big wooden building.
“Won’t they hear us—and club us?” said I.
“Not they! I’ve been in the palace before by night; I know where Fae Fae
sleeps, and it’s no hard job to find her.”
“You do, do you!” thought I. Then O’Hara began to creep down the orange
grove and, like some obsequious shadow, I followed.
Not a sound broke the primeval stillness as we curved round the small
track that led to the main entrance of the palace. At that very moment a
night bird, somewhere up in the mangroves, burst into song. It gave a
sharp scream as we passed like shadows beneath the trees, and then
flapped away. We both leapt back into the deeper gloom. Our hearts
nearly stopped, for lo! the bushy head of some high chief suddenly poked
out of the half-open gate at the main entrance. We watched that big
mop-head and fierce-looking face turn to the right and left, peer into
the moonlight a moment, then we saw it withdrawn from view.
“I’d like to give that cove one on his napper!” whispered O’Hara, with a
levity which I thought considerably out of place at such a time. “I know
him; it’s old thin-legs, the night sentinel. I’ve tried to bribe the old
wretch, but ’twasn’t any go.”
“Oh!” said I, for the want of saying something better at such a moment.
Indeed, the most poignant phrases that the English language can twist
together could not have expressed all that I felt.
“What do you intend doing now?” said I.
“Why, I’m going to slip into the palace and see Fae Fae in her private
chamber. She’ll soon come when she sees us.”
“Are you sure she won’t scream? Don’t you think it’s a bit unwise, in
the night-time, like this?”
“Blimey ducks, no!” chuckled O’Hara. Thereupon I made up my mind to
seize the blessed Queen herself, if O’Hara wished me to do so.
To tell the truth, I had wondered if Fae Fae would not take fright at
seeing me with O’Hara. It appeared that my comrade had wooed Fae Fae
considerably in the little time he had known her. But I had only seen
her twice—and there I was, bound for her sleeping-apartment in the dead
of night.
Once again we moved on. Arriving before a little door that led into a
roomy apartment adjoining the west wing of the palace, O’Hara gently
pulled another door open. We both crept in. It was nearly pitch dark;
the faint rays of moonlight, peeping through chinks in the roof, just
helped us to grope along. As we moved stealthily across the floor, I
stumbled over a large calabash. We stood still, breathless with
suspense. I looked around: on the walls, dimly revealed by the
moonlight, hung old war-clubs, spears, and other ancient heirlooms of
the Pomarean dynasty. We heard a door open, then it was shut again, for
the sounds of distant laughter and heathen voices swiftly ceased. It
came from somewhere on the other side of the courtyard, that portion of
the palace where Queen Pomare and her suite dwelt. Once more we crept
on. Passing across another room, we suddenly came out into a small
courtyard.
Turning to me, O’Hara whispered:
“You see that door over there, on the far side of that wooden building?
Well, it opens into a long corridor, and at the far end is the chamber
where Fae Fae sleeps.”
I nodded.
“Are you game to follow me, pal?” he added.
“I am!” said I, as I clutched my revolver and thought how “gamey” we
might both soon be if we were discovered.
I don’t know if my story sounds like a sketch from some semi-comic
opera, but I _do_ know that it was a serious thing for us to attempt to
get into a native girl’s bedroom as we did that night. But, mind you, I
believed implicitly in O’Hara’s good intentions. Never once had I
observed him take a liberty with a maid. He had the Celtic temperament,
but was clean-minded, notwithstanding his sins. We opened the door that
led down the corridor to Fae Fae’s bed-chamber; then we took a rather
bold nip at the flask of whisky. In complete obedience to O’Hara’s
whispered directions, I at once went down on my knees, then, hand over
hand and knee over knee, we began to travel down that dark, narrow
corridor! A stream of moonlight crept through the airholes that were in
the roof. I could just discern O’Hara’s ragged coat-tails in front of me
as I blindly groped along behind him. I saw the dim shadows of the palms
waving about, silhouetted on the wooden walls as the winds stirred the
forest trees outside. Arriving about half-way down the corridor, I
whispered to my comrade:
“Supposing she’s asleep? Do you intend to seize her whilst she lies in
bed? Won’t she scream if she sees me with you, and awaken the whole
palace?”
I knew what English girls would do if they suddenly awoke and saw two
sunburnt tramps on their knees, peering round the edge of their bedroom
door at the dead of night.
My relief was considerable when O’Hara whispered:
“Don’t worry; Fae Fae expects me, and it’s not her who is going to
scream.” Then, in a tense whisper, he added: “Besides, she sleeps alone,
away from the rest of the palace folk.”
“Thank God for that much!” thought I, as we once more started to creep,
like two monstrous slugs, down the floor of the corridor.
O’Hara suddenly stopped. My heart gave a slight flutter. I knew we had
arrived outside Fae Fae’s chamber. I heard my comrade give two soft
taps—so, “tap!” “tap!”—on the door’s bamboo panel with his knuckles.
Each tap seemed to echo and re-echo down the silent corridor. I was
thankful that I had drunk deeply from the whisky-flask which O’Hara had
so thoughtfully handed me. Had we been about to seize a heathen man, or
even an old woman, the matter would have seemed different.
Notwithstanding that I had knocked about the world, the thought of so
rudely disturbing a maiden’s slumber and those romantic ideals which I
can find no name for here, had still a great influence over me.
Consequently, I paused on the threshold of that chamber. She was an
innocent girl, none need doubt that much. To the reader, who has never
plunged into such a midnight venture as I tell of here, I can
confidently say that he would require a little artificial stimulant to
buck his courage up were he placed under like circumstances. There’s
something eerie in creeping into a semi-heathen palace and crawling down
an interminable corridor to seize a maid as she sleeps in her chamber.
And all this, mind you, not for one’s self, but for another! And, again,
there was not only the danger of detection by that heathen crew to
reckon with, but also the French officials, who would assuredly give us
penal servitude in the _calaboose_ (jail), or transport us to Noumea
should they catch us on this mad venture. But for the fact that we had
youth’s superabundant confidence on our side, I am sure we should never
have ventured on such an escapade. I recall the breathless hush of that
supreme moment when O’Hara once more gently tapped the maiden’s door.
“Fae Fae!” he whispered.
How eagerly we listened! Only a faint moan came from the forest palms
just outside, then all was silent again.
“Begorra, she’s not there,” came in an agonized whisper from O’Hara.
Our hearts thumped—we heard a rustling sound, which resembled a noise
made by someone yawning. An uncomfortable suspicion flashed through my
brain: Had O’Hara mistaken the room? and was that chamber occupied by
some mighty chief?
“What’s that?” I said in a tense whisper, as that eerie sound came
again, with the soft patter of bare feet. “Look out, pal!” I whispered,
instinctively ducking my head in some vague idea that a club was falling
on it!
O’Hara tapped again, then softly called the maid’s name. I looked up, my
heart in my mouth, as we crouched there, both on our hands and knees.
The door creaked. We watched—and it was being slowly opened. Through a
chink, that was no wider than two inches, peeped two sparkling eyes,
half hidden by dishevelled tresses—it was Fae Fae!
In a swift, hoarse whisper O’Hara said:
“It’s only us, Faey.”
At once the door opened a little wider, and two astonished eyes looked
down upon us, both there on our hands and knees!
“Oh, Messieurs, you be killed!” she whispered, as she lifted her hands
and gazed upon us in an awestruck manner.
Slinking there, behind O’Hara’s coat-tails, I gazed up at the maid
through his armpits!
“Didn’t you hear me whistle, Faey dearest?” said my comrade, as the
astonished girl still stared at us in fright.
“No, Monsieur Hara, I sleep fast,” she said, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
At this candid confession, O’Hara looked crestfallen. I, too, must
confess that a dash of cold water seemed to have been thrown upon the
fires of my romantic soul. I pinched my leg to convince myself that I
was not dreaming. It was real enough, no dream at all. It was a solid me
intruding into a girl’s bed-chamber at the dead of night, ready to
clutch the maid and help my comrade to carry her away into the
mountains!
“Come, Fae Fae, don’t go back on me, darlint,” wailed O’Hara, as the
pretty maid looked about in a bewildered way, as though hesitating as to
what she ought to do under such distressing circumstances.
At this moment I poked my head up from behind O’Hara and revealed my
physiognomy clearly in the shifting moonlight.
“Oui! oui! Awaie!” she woefully ejaculated, as she recognized my
impertinent presence. Then she peered again, and said: “Tre bon! it’s
nicer fiddle man!”
I rose to my feet as though I had just received a knighthood, and bowed
with such courtesy as I felt was due at such a moment. I may have
blushed, but I do know that my heart warmed considerably to the
possibilities of the whole business. Much of the girl’s apprehension
seemed to have vanished at discovering that it was I who had accompanied
O’Hara on my hands and knees down that damned corridor! Ah me! As she
stood there bathed in moonlight, her tiny blue chemise ornamented with
flowers, I quite envied O’Hara. The hibiscus blossoms in her mass of
rich-hued hair were crushed on that side where her pillowed head had
lain but a moment before in sleep. I felt the thrill of her presence.
Standing there in the gloom, I saw O’Hara put forth his arms towards Fae
Fae.
“Come on, Faey,” he whispered.
Leaning forward in the gloom, Fae Fae misjudged the distance, and placed
her mouth on my flushed cheek. Then it really seemed that the tender
pressures of our groping hands got inextricably mixed up. I became
bolder. Looking into the girl’s face, I said in an appealing way:
“Come, Fae Fae, _do_ come!”
I felt that, to creep into a heathen’s palace to help a maid to elope,
and for the maid to refuse to come, would cast a slur on my idea of
chivalry and romance such as I could never forget. I was immensely
relieved when I noticed Fae Fae stoop and start shuffling about her
chamber floor. She was hastily gathering together her spare clothing!
“Awaie! Messieurs!” she cried softly. Then she held up a small bundle,
and blushed through the brightness of her eyes. Gallantly I leaned
forward and clutched those delicate garments that made up Fae Fae’s
trousseau! As for O’Hara, he grinned and then stared in surprise, as he
observed my correct manner when I bowed and offered Fae Fae my arm. (He
hadn’t read Alexandre Dumas, Byron, Shelley, and Keats, and slept with
his dreaming head on a volume of _Don Quixote_.)
Suddenly a door banged somewhere across the palace courtyard; we
distinctly heard distant sounds of laughter and indistinct voices. Then
silence came; the door had been closed again.
“Come on, there’s no time to lose,” I whispered, as I clutched the
pretty sandals that Fae Fae hurriedly picked up from beneath her bamboo
couch. Down the corridor we crept. As Fae Fae caught hold of my hand I
returned the gentle pressures of that frightened Tahitian maid. I
gathered that she did not realize the seriousness of the business. As we
stole along, a puff of wind came down the narrow corridor, and her mass
of unkempt hair floated softly against my face. I felt as though some
beautiful creation of romance had materialized before my eyes, as a
silken tress touched my lips. Only O’Hara’s heavy breathing, as he led
the way, and Fae Fae’s frightened gasps, made me realize that the whole
business was real enough. We all gave a deep sigh of relief as we stole
out into the night. A mighty alarm had seemed to thunder down the
silence of that palace corridor. Then O’Hara informed me that he had
missed the track whereby we had entered the palace. It was unfortunate,
for it necessitated our all climbing over a huge wooden wall that ran
along the south side of the track that led to the entrance of the palace
stockade.
“Come along, Fae Fae,” said I cheerfully, as the cool air of the moonlit
night and the glory of physical movement raised my spirits. O’Hara
clambered up to the top of the wall first; releasing Fae Fae’s trembling
hand, I followed. It was not hard climbing, for the huge, upright logs
were thickly overgrown with tough vine. “Look out!” said I, as I stood
in that elevated position and nearly stumbled. Squatting side by side up
there, we looked down. Fae Fae stared up at us; she was half hidden in
the forest ferns. O’Hara and I clasped each other’s hand to get a better
grip, then, bending down, we very carefully gripped hold of Fae Fae’s
extended hands and slowly hauled her up to the top of the wall.
“Oh, Messieurs, it’s tellible!” murmured the frightened girl as she
stood high up there beside us. She shivered as she put forth her arms in
fright to retain her balance. Her tiny, blue diaphanous robe was
out-blown as the night wind sighed across the forest height.
“Don’t be frightened, Miss Faey,” I murmured, as the girl swayed in
terror, pressed my hand, and looked appealingly into my eyes as we stood
up there.
O’Hara and I gripped her carefully by the arms, swayed her to and fro in
space for a second, then dropped her softly down into the mossy growth
and fern of the forest on the other side of the wall.
“Awaie!” she cried, as she looked up at us.
Then my comrade and I slid gently down, like threaded spiders, into the
mossy scrub.
For a moment we stood breathless, as Fae Fae clung to our arms,
trembling in fear. To the right lay the main track; once across that, we
could bolt into the forest depth, where we would be safe. I awaited
O’Hara’s signal. I was taking no risks. O’Hara knew the place too.
Suddenly my comrade said, “Now!” and off we went, rushing like three
phantoms across the exposed moonlit track.
“Holy St. Patrick!” breathed my chum, as we stood behind the thick clump
of bananas that divided us from the twelve yards that we must yet pass
ere we were out of sight of the main entrance to the palace.
We were suddenly paralyzed by hearing a terrific yell. We had been
observed! That yell smashed to atoms all my indecision as to what was
best to do. Metaphorically speaking, it arrayed me in armour, equipped
me with all the necessary weapons to fight a desperate battle for life
and for the protection of the trembling girl beside me.
I looked down the track: out of the main entrance had rushed three
stalwart Tahitian chiefs. They were quivering with excitement. We
remained standing still. I felt strangely calm.
“We’re in for it now,” said I.
O’Hara shook his fist and picked up a large stone. A glorious feeling of
exultation thrilled me at the thought of the coming race for life. It
was just in my line, whereas creeping on my hands and knees down a
corridor was dead against the grain.
Fae Fae gave a faint cry. It roused us. Simultaneously we dashed away
into the depths of the breadfruits and coco-palms. What a sight!—Fae
Fae, bare-footed, encumbered only by her pretty native _mumu_ (chemise)
of scanty width, raced ahead, as O’Hara and I, our arms held high in
racing attitude, puffed on behind!
“Follow her, pal; she knows the way,” murmured O’Hara, as Fae Fae’s
dusky flying heels glittered in the moonlight about twelve yards ahead
of us! Though I admired that impulsive Irish comrade of mine, I inwardly
thought what an ass he was; for, though our pursuers were hard on our
heels, I distinctly heard him chuckling to himself, making ecstatic
remarks about Fae Fae’s swaying figure as she fled down the forest
track! I turned my head to see how it went with the enemy. I was
extremely disconcerted at observing them coming up over the ridge of the
rising ground, quite distinct in the brilliant moonlight. A giant of a
fellow was gaining ground, was far ahead of the other pursuers.
“Wait!” I shouted in O’Hara’s ear. “We must frighten them somehow.” I
knew, well enough, that we were in the wrong, that we could be legally
charged with a serious, very serious offence. I felt some sad, prophetic
pain of a club falling on my romantic skull and my head tumbling into
the official guillotine basket. This sudden visualizing freak of my
imagination was made the more vivid through my seeing Fae Fae racing
along the track like some frightened child (she was little more than a
child in mind), as I lumbered on behind her, clutching her delicate
trousseau under my arm. Indeed I felt the guiltiest of the three. Fae
Fae was a child of the forest; O’Hara was another child, since he was
madly in love; while I?—well, instead of giving wise counsel, I was
there, an accessory before and after the fact, and with the maid’s
scanty wardrobe under my arm! Preposterous!
“Go on; never mind me,” said I, when O’Hara suddenly stopped dead short.
There, on the track, I held up my revolver and fired over the head of
the mop-headed savage who was a hundred yards ahead of the others. They
slowed down. I saw the leader wave his hand, and heard him yell out some
words in his native lingo, something that ended with the words “Fae
Fae!”
On hearing that name, O’Hara gasped out:
“Why, it’s him, that damned Tautoa, who wants to marry my Faey!”
It was with immense relief that I noticed that the pursuers had slowed
down and were apparently frightened at discovering that I was armed. We
couldn’t outrun Fae Fae. O’Hara and I had all we could do to catch up to
her as she still raced on, speeding round the curves of the forest
track. Indeed at times we could not see her at all, knowing that she
preceded us only because of the tiny, smoke-like clouds of dust that we
raced through, the diamond-like powder that her bare, flying feet
stirred and left behind as she raced along the track. Sometimes the path
wound into the full light of the moon; it was then that we sighted Fae
Fae’s flying figure and floating hair as we thundered along behind her.
I am sure the scene must have looked like some burlesque or the
rehearsal for a cinematograph picture. As we passed the deep lagoons by
the shore, weird shadows whipped across the imaged, broken moons that
were shining in the still, glassy depths! For, as the fireflies danced
in the leafy bamboo glooms, I saw Fae Fae’s image, with flying hair,
race across the lagoon’s surface to the right of us, though she,
herself, had passed round the bend and was quite out of sight! To the
southward stretched, for miles and miles, the palm-clad slopes. It
seemed as if we were racing across a vast landscape oilpainting! To the
north-west rose the pinnacled range of _La Diadème_. We had reached the
Broome Road. As we raced across it we just missed a crowd of hurrying
Chinamen who worked in the cool of night in the plantations of vanilla,
coffee, sugar-cane, and orange groves.
“Hon kong ching chi chow kow!” yelled a straggler, as his pig-tail
tossed up, and he fell sprawling in the dust.
“One for his napper!” breathed O’Hara, as he recovered his balance and
we rushed across the plantation. We were safe! There stood Tapee’s
bungalow to the left of us. All would have gone well had not O’Hara
stumbled as he leapt across the stream. He gave a yell of pain, and fell
crash on his face.
Fae Fae gave a cry. Then she and I, breathing heavily, picked our
comrade up. He groaned as I examined him. I was relieved to find that he
had done no more than sprain his ankle. At this moment a figure emerged
from the shadows—it was Tapee.
“You all right?—where’s Fae Fae?” said the old man, as he peered into
the jungle depths around us. Fae Fae, who was hiding behind the dwarf
coco-palms, heard Tapee’s voice, and revealed herself. On sighting the
girl, the old idol-worshipper grinned from ear to ear.
“You clever _wahine_ to run way from palace with kind white mans.”
It appeared that O’Hara had acquainted the chief that he was going to
get Fae Fae to elope with him from the palace that night. Tapee was
delighted to be of assistance to O’Hara, for he had some grudge against
Tautoa, the chief who was to marry Fae Fae. He was also pleased to annoy
Pomare, who had refused to allow Tapee to attend the palace festivities.
When I informed Tapee that the gendarmes were already on our track, he
simply rubbed his hands and grinned as though the trouble was over.
Seeing O’Hara standing on one leg and holding the other off the ground,
Tapee and I escorted him into the bungalow hard by. He groaned as we
laid him down on the bed mats. On pulling off his boot I saw that he was
quite out of action so far as walking was concerned—his ankle was
swollen to the size of an orange, a lump on the off-side.
Fae Fae, noticing the injury, gave a wail of despair. Then Tapee, to my
surprise, looked up and said:
“Oh, Messieurs, what shall we do? The popy priest am waiting to marry
Fae Fae and Papalagi O’Hara all this whiles down in Papeete.”
This was the first intimation I had received that O’Hara had made the
necessary preparations to have a Christian marriage with Fae Fae. It was
just like him, for, notwithstanding his being a scallawag, he was ever
ready to do the right thing at the right moment.
“Go, quick, and let the priest know that the marriage is put off till
another night,” moaned O’Hara. And so Tapee went off to postpone the
wedding. Fae Fae lifted her hands to the roof and wailed out, “Saprista!
Aloe, tua” and “Mon Dieu!” (Fae Fae spoke broken French as well as
English). I was more than glad to see that wedding postponed. I felt it
was quite enough for one night’s work to abduct the maid in readiness
for the wedding, and, moreover, Fae Fae was trembling like a leaf and
appeared very neurotic. She was a very high-strung girl. Indeed I saw
how artful-hearted Tapee had played with ease on the girl’s romantic,
sensitive temperament.
When Tapee returned, about half an hour after, he at once prepared
supper. We were all famished. We closed the door and bolted it. Tapee
said that on his way back after seeing the priest, he had heard a lot of
French officials discussing Fae Fae’s disappearance from the palace.
O’Hara groaned and Fae Fae wept, while I moodily ate mangoes and stewed,
juicy fruits, and wondered what my relatives would think when they heard
that I had been hanged for abducting maidens in the South Seas! We
passed a most wretched night. I dozed off once, and dreamed that the
world was a vast guillotine, with me sitting in its receiving-basket as
Time, and all the stars danced sorrowfully around me, ere the blade fell
and severed my connection with mundane things. When I awoke, O’Hara was
looking very ill; but he gave a faint smile as Fae Fae held his head and
passed her fingers through his curly hair. At daybreak Tapee went out
and hired a kind of _char-à-banc_ owned by a wizened Chinaman. We took
the Chinaman into our confidence, gave him a good tip, and promised him
a lot more than we could ever give him. To tell the truth, if a Chinaman
gives one his word of honour, he seldom breaks it. I’d sooner trust a
Chinaman than many pious people whom I’ve unfortunately met. When we got
into that wagon the bottom nearly dropped out. It was old and rotten.
The horse was an object for pity; it moved at a mile an hour, and the
angles of its bones looked decidedly like the angles of the guillotine.
We crouched in the bottom of the cart, safe from the vigilant eyes of
the officials who were on the look-out for us. When we arrived in the
Chinese quarter of Papeete, I hired a room in a fan-tan den, and O’Hara
helped me to put up a bed. When all was comfortable, O’Hara fell asleep,
and I crept out into the forest and went back to Tapee’s bungalow. When
I arrived there, Fae Fae was weeping bitterly. I saw that she had become
sane, and regretted her flight from the palace. She was evidently
terrified in her reflection over the punishment she would receive from
the Queen’s hands. I tried my best to soothe her.
“Oh, Monsieur, I so unhappy. Poor Monsieur Ilisham hurt himself too. I
feel lone, and Queen Pomare find me out and punish me, I know, I know!”
she wailed.
“Don’t worry, Fae Fae,” said I soothingly, as she gave me a tender,
sympathetic glance. I saw the tears in her eyes as she stared up at me
through her dishevelled tresses. Ah, beautiful hair it was! The room was
dimly lit by the latticed window-hole. She did look a plaintive creature
as she sat there swaying in her grief. I smelt the sweet odours of the
languishing flowers that still dangled, clinging among her scented
tresses, when she placed her hand caressingly on my shoulder, and
murmured:
“Oh, take me back to palace, Monsieur.”
We were close together, her eyes gazing beseechingly into mine. Her
smooth brow, bright in the glory of her vanilla-scented hair, was near
my lips. God knows that I would not betray the trust reposed in me by a
good comrade; but I have my weaknesses. Her hand pressed mine. I somehow
tripped forward, and, in some inexplicable entanglement of the senses,
my lips touched hers. Ah me! She gazed deeply into my eyes. In a moment
I realized what I had done. I hung my head as she gazed on, and then, to
my astonishment, she swiftly lifted my hand and kissed it passionately.
I thought of O’Hara, probably asleep on his bed-mat and of the implicit
trust he reposed in me. I made a tremendous effort so that my outward
demeanour should have no twinship with the turmoil of conflicting
thoughts within me. Inclining my head affectionately, but at the same
time forcing a melancholy, sober aspect to my blushing visage, I managed
to blurt out:
“Oh, Fae Fae, child, my heart is heavy in the thoughts of your sorrows.
I don’t know how to advise you!”
It was a near go, I know. Indeed, had I partaken a little more liberally
of the toddy that Tapee had given me from his huge flask, my memory of
the whole business would not have made such pleasant reading, I feel
sure of that. Sober reflections made me realize that, under the
circumstance, the best thing for the girl to do would be to go back to
the palace. I fully realized the clumsy way we had conducted ourselves
and the seriousness of the gendarmes being on our tracks.
At this moment Tapee opened the door and walked in. I was relieved by
his presence, but, to my consternation, Fae Fae’s attitude towards me
remained the same! Kissing the girl again, as though she were a child, I
looked her straight in the eyes, and said:
“I must get away and see O’Hara; it is unsafe for me to stop here.”
The girl responded to this only by falling on her knees before me.
“Oh, Monsieur, stay! stay!” she cried in a plaintive voice.
It was then I noticed the wild, strange stare of her eyes. I gave Tapee
an interrogative glance. He touched his brow significantly. I did not
quite comprehend his meaning at the time, but subsequent events soon
enlightened me as to the state of Fae Fae’s mind. Promising Tapee and
the girl that I would return soon, I hastened from their presence and
went back to O’Hara. He was awake and in great pain when I arrived at
our diggings. I sat with him till dusk, and all through the night poured
cold water on his sprained ankle.
I well knew that while he was lame we had little chance of clearing
away, if the gendarmes heard of our whereabouts.
Once again, at O’Hara’s request, I went off to see how Fae Fae was.
Arriving at Tapee’s bungalow I found him trembling and muttering in a
strange way.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“Oh, Masser, she gone! She run away in night; she go kill herself, I
sure!”
After the old fellow had rambled on a good deal, I gathered that he had
awakened at daybreak, and, discovering that Fae Fae had flown, had spent
the morning in searching likely places where she might have hidden
herself. I at once got Tapee to send a trusted native friend up to the
palace to find out if Fae Fae had returned home. After a while the
native came back full of excitement, and informed us that the Queen and
her retinue of chiefs had gone off to the French Presidency to inform
the officials that Princess Fae Fae had been abducted from the palace by
two white men. That bit of information seemed to waken me up. I left
Tapee at once.
“It’s no good using language like that,” I said, chidingly to O’Hara, as
I rubbed his ankle with coco-nut oil.
By the next day he could just manage to limp along. He was determined to
search for Fae Fae, though I had tried to persuade him to do otherwise.
That same day he seemed very depressed as he sat under the palms singing
to me. (He always sang when he was feeling melancholy.)
“She’ll do herself some injury,” he said.
“She’ll turn up,” I said soothingly, though I must admit I felt dubious
about it all. I thought of the girl’s strange manner, how she had danced
round that idol; I was convinced that she was no ordinary girl.
That same evening we walked into the forest near Katavio. We were
intending to meet Tapee, who had informed us that he would be in his old
hut in that part of the forest where his idol was hidden.
I tried to cheer O’Hara up as we passed under the arch-like banyans that
grew on the outskirts of the wooded country. Then we sat down by the
lagoons till darkness came. Suddenly we were startled by hearing far-off
sounds like the singing of a woman’s beautiful voice. I jumped to my
feet. There was something eerie about the night as we listened. Then it
came again, the long, low, sweet refrain of an old-time Tahitian
_himine_. Bucking up our courage we stole forward, making for the
direction where the singing came from. Even the winds seemed hushed, not
a sound disturbing the silence of the forest. It seemed as if O’Hara and
I walked a stage whereon some thrilling South Sea drama was being
enacted; the tall trees looked unreal, even the wide roof over us might
have been some tremendous dark canvas bespangled with stars. The weird,
flute-like cadenza of the nightingale up in the branches of the
flamboyants did not destroy the unreal effect as it flew off.
“This way,” I whispered, as my comrade limped along.
We were standing on the wooded elevation just before the spot where we
had first caught Tapee worshipping his wooden image. Moonrise, somewhere
to the southward, behind the mountains, was sending a pale brilliance
over the rugged landscape. That weird singer of the forest, or whatever
it was, had ceased to sing. Then it came again, a weird, tender wailing!
O’Hara’s big form was leaning against mine when the surprise came:
staring there between the tree trunks, we saw the old idol again and,
careering around that hideous wooden deity, that which looked like a
phantom girl of the woods! I had travelled the world over and seen some
strange things, but had never seen so weird a sight before.
“It’s Fae Fae,” said O’Hara, as he stumbled on his sprained ankle.
“Impossible!” I responded in a mechanical way.
“She’s dead, and has come back to dance where she first met me!”
re-wailed my love-sick Irish comrade.
The girl _did_ look misty! I looked and wondered, notwithstanding my
cynicism over such things as ghosts. I felt that perhaps it was Fae
Fae’s ghost dancing before us! I had read of such things, and had met
old women who swore they had seen the dead doing strange, unaccountable
things.
We both stood still, strangely calm, as the girl whirled and sang in her
wild career, her diaphanous robe fluttering out to the breeze or
clinging closely to her misty-like figure. Then she lifted her arms and
moved towards us, her eyes wide open, apparently staring into vacancy.
The flowers in her unkempt hair, all crumpled, gave the _one_ touch that
told of something real. It was evident that she had not observed us, for
in another moment she was again whirling around the space, chanting to
the deaf, wooden ears of the massive idol. As she passed by us she came
so close that I felt the rush of cool air caused by her swift movements.
Though her figure looked ghost-like, I was still extremely sceptical. I
knew that mortality, when transformed into that blessed spiritual state
that is supposed to follow death, must of a necessity be unable to
create any impression through coming into contact with the material
elements of mortality. Indeed, I knew that singing itself was an
impossibility, since it necessitated an inflection and perfect
contraction in the throat of the singer. I resolved to seize the first
opportunity to substantiate my human suspicions as to the possibility of
the figure before us being a transfiguration of her whom we had once
known in mortal shape as Fae Fae. The opportunity presented itself
forthwith. Fae Fae’s apparent wraith, with arms outspread, the body
swerving with rhythmical beauty, was still flitting noiselessly round
the small space, coming toward us!
“Keep back!” I whispered to O’Hara, who was staring over my shoulder,
endeavouring to get a better glimpse of the figure. On she came,
seemingly draped in veils of the moonlight that was falling through the
overspreading, dark-fingered palm-leaves. Her lips had begun a chant,
her head turned slightly sideways as on her tripping flight she
approached and stared at the mighty, yellow-toothed, wooden deity. In a
moment she was upon us. I swiftly thrust forth my hand as she flitted
past.
“A phantom!” I gasped, as my fist passed right _through_ the folds of
her attire and then seemingly through her form! For a moment I could
only stare. A vulture screeched high in the banyans. O’Hara crossed
himself and murmured a portion of some _Ave Maria_, terror-struck.
“Impossible! preposterous!” thought I to myself. Then I remembered how I
had distinctly felt the material of her robes appeal to my sense of
touch as my fist apparently went through her figure; yes, something real
and material was there. I had simply missed touching her solid figure;
that was it, I felt sure. “O’Hara,” I whispered, and my voice sounded
cracked as I muttered, “it’s no ghost; it’s her, Fae Fae, right enough.
She’s mad, out of her mind!”
“No! Mad!” groaned O’Hara, as he jumped down from the banyan bough where
he had leapt in fright, and peered between the breadfruit trunks. I
tried hard to hold him back as he rushed forward; but it was too late—a
piece of his ragged coat came off in my hand!
Fae Fae gave a terrified scream as she spied him.
“It’s me! your O’Hara, darlint!” yelled my comrade, as the girl, turning
round, stared at him in a wild, vacant way. Then, with a frightened
scream that thrilled us with horror, she fled away into the depths of
the forest.
I also rushed off, following O’Hara, who bolted after her. He had not
gone far when he tripped and fell with a crash. He gave a groan as he
held up his afflicted foot. I at once came to a standstill. I was not in
the mood to go chasing after a mad native girl. Besides, I had had about
sufficient of O’Hara’s love affairs. O’Hara was inconsolable that night.
At daybreak we were up and ready to go forth in an endeavour to hear
something about Fae Fae. Indeed, O’Hara seemed more determined than ever
to find her. We had at first intended to go and see Tapee; but Tapee
saved us that trouble by suddenly walking into our apartments. Before we
could get a chance to tell the old chief of our adventure with Fae Fae,
he had started gabbling like one demented.
“Fae Fae, she go mad! and, O Papalagi, that Tautoa, her lover, he have
found her crying in the night in the forest, all ’lone,” said the old
dark man.
“No!” we both exclaimed in one breath.
“Ah, yes, Messieurs, it all-e-samee true. Fae Fae am now back in palace,
they got her now, and Queen Pomare am in terrible rage with white mans.
I knower that she am going to send gendarmes after you and Monsieur
O’Hara.”
The way O’Hara raved and carried on is indescribable. He got quite drunk
before midday. Then we were obliged to fly from our lodgings and hide
away under Tapee’s protection. For, sure enough, a warrant was really
out for both O’Hara and myself for trespass and the abduction of Fae
Fae, who from childhood had suffered from mental afffliction!
It was Tapee who gave us this last bit of information. As the old chief
crept into the disused native hut and, squatting down by us, told us
these things, much became clear to me. I recalled many things about Fae
Fae’s manner, which, though fascinating and romantic, seemed out of the
normal even in a native maid. We hid in that hut for three days, safe
from the French officials; but I felt pretty gloomy as I thought of the
prospect of our getting three years in the island calaboose. I gave out
no hint of my qualms to O’Hara, but I well knew that there was a good
chance of both of us being transported to the convict settlement at _Ill
Nou_, Noumea! The following night, however, we secured an old canoe,
through the help of Tapee, and paddled round to Matavai Bay, where we
heard that a tramp steamer was anchored.
And the next day, as we heard the tramping far overhead and the dull
pomp-e-te-pomp of engines, we both crept forth, moved our cramped,
huddled limbs, and groaned. I chewed a morsel off one of our four
coco-nuts. Then I caught a shadowy glimpse of O’Hara’s sweating black
face as he took a drink from the water-bottle, and groped with his hands
amongst the tiers of coal and terrific heat.
“Come on, this way!” I gasped, as I crawled along in that monstrous tomb
where we found ourselves buried alive! “That’s better!” I said, as I
felt a whiff of purer air come along some dark, labyrinthine way. O’Hara
sat by me in the gloom, groping about as he carefully replaced the
water-bottle and coco-nut in my portmanteau (an old green baize bag that
I always carried when I travelled _incognito_).
Then O’Hara climbed up on my shoulders and peered through the little
round hole just above our heads. For a long time he stared, gazing away
to the far south-west horizon, where rose the rugged pinnacles of La
Diadem, still visible.
“We’re safe enough now. They won’t catch us, I’ll bet,” said I.
“Ah, my darlint Fae Fae! I’ll never be happy again.”
“Yes, you will,” I murmured soothingly, as O’Hara still gazed through
that dirty coal-bunker’s glass porthole, staring wistfully so as to get
the last glimpse, as sunset touched the mountain palms of far-away
Tahiti! We were stowaways down in the hold of a tramp steamer, far out
at sea, outbound for Honolulu!
------------------------------------------------------------------------