DISCORD AMONG THE WHITES
The day after the ceremony of welcome to Kataafa, Phil and Sydney again
accompanied their captain on shore. Commander Tazewell took a lively
interest in everything that was going on and was delighted to have such
enthusiastic young supporters.
“You’ll find,” he said after they had landed and sent the boat away,
“that the natives of both factions are equally friendly to us. That is
a good sign and I hope it will continue.”
The highroad of Ukula was filled with half-naked muscular men and
lithe, graceful, dark-eyed women. Every native exhaled the acrid odor
of cocoanut oil. The men’s long hair was plastered white with lime and
tied on top in the form of a topknot.
“The lime bleaches the hair red, you know,” Commander Tazewell
explained, noting the lads’ curiosity at this peculiar custom. “The
oil is to prevent them from catching cold. They go into the water, you
see, any hour of the day, and when they come out they are as dry as
ducks.”
The officers had landed at Kulinuu, the traditional residence of the
Malea-Toa family, from which many kings had been chosen and to which
Panu-Mafili belonged. On every hand they encountered good-natured
smiling natives. “Talofa, Alii”[3] was on every lip.
“Ten thousand of these fellows are encamped in the vicinity of Ukula
waiting to see who the chief justice makes their king,” the commander
said. “You see,” he added, “strange as it may seem to us, two chiefs
may rightfully be elected. Election depends upon quality of votes
rather than upon quantity. So according to traditional Kapuan custom
when two kings are elected, they decide it by having a big battle. That
is the normal way, but we have persuaded the natives that arbitration
is more civilized. Now the chief justice decides and the three nations
support that decision.”
“It looks rather as though Herzovinia would support the judge only
in case he decides for Kataafa,” Sydney said questioningly. “If that
country refuses to back up the judge what will happen?”
Commander Tazewell was thoughtful for half a minute.
“According to the treaty all are required to agree,” he answered.
“There is no choice. Once the decision is made that creates a king, all
who oppose him are rebels. That is the law, and these foreign war-ships
are here to uphold Judge Lindsay’s decision, right or wrong.”
As the three pedestrians, dressed in their white duck uniforms, white
helmets protecting their heads from the tropical sun, reached the hard
coral road leading along the shore of the bay, the panorama of the
harbor opened and delighted the eyes of the young men.
The white coral reef, lying beneath scarcely half a fathom of water,
was peopled by natives gathering shell-fish to feed the greater influx
of population. On the bosom of the dark green water, beyond the inner
reef, and almost encircled by spurs of a second ledge of coral, lay
anchored the war-ships of three great nations. In the foreground,
lying on their sides, two twisted red-stained hulls, the bleaching
bones of once proud men-of-war, told of the sport of giant waves that
had hurled them a hundred yards along the inner reef and drowned
many of their crews. This manifestation of the power of a tropical
hurricane, that might come almost unheralded out of the watery waste,
prevented any relaxation of vigilance. At all times the war-ships were
kept ready to seek safety at sea, clear of the treacherous coral reefs.
To be caught at anchor in the harbor of Ukula when a hurricane broke
could mean only another red-stained wreck upon the reef.
The road soon left the water’s edge. Now it ran several hundred yards
inland through groves of cocoanut, banana and breadfruit trees.
Fringing the road were many spider-like, grass-thatched native houses,
similar to those they had seen among the groves at Kulinuu. Seated on
mats under these shelters were numerous natives, and the Americans
as they progressed received frequent cordial invitation to stop and
refresh themselves from the very hospitable islanders. Commander
Tazewell, during his stay in Kapua, had acquired some facility in
the language, which greatly delighted the childlike natives, and
they lost no opportunity to engage him to join their meetings, in
order that they might listen to their own language from the lips of a
“papalangi”[4] chief. But apparently the commander did not intend to
stop. Both midshipmen now eyed longingly the cool interior of a large
and pretentious house which they were approaching. From the entrance
a stately warrior beckoned them to come and partake of the milk of a
cocoanut.
[Illustration: MAP OF UKULA]
Commander Tazewell waved a solemn acknowledgment. “That’s Tuamana,
the chief of Ukula,” he said to his companions. “We’ll stop for just
a minute. It was he,” the commander added as they approached the
delighted chief, “who saved so many lives during the hurricane when
those two war-ships were thrown up bodily on the reef, and several
others were wrecked at their moorings.”
Tuamana grasped each by the hand in turn and then led them to mats
laid upon the pebbly floor. He clapped his hands, and almost at once
from behind the dividing curtain of “Tapa”[5] cloth, two native girls
glided, gracefully and with outstretched hands, to the side of the
“papalangis.” Seating themselves the girls began industriously fanning
the heated officers. Phil soon appreciated the reason for this delicate
attention; swarms of flies hovered about them, to fight which alone
would soon exhaust one’s patience.
Commander Tazewell and Chief Tuamana engaged in quiet conversation in
Kapuan while the chief’s talking man, a native educated at one of the
mission schools, came frequently to their aid when the commander’s
limited native vocabulary gave evidence of being inadequate.
Phil and Sydney were thus left free to enjoy the novelty of their
surroundings.
The two young girls fanned and giggled in turns until Phil, unused to
such delicate attention from the opposite sex, insisted upon taking the
cleverly wrought banana leaf fan, and much to the amusement of the two
girls began fanning himself and the girl too. After a few moments this
young lady arose, bowed and disappeared behind the screen convulsed
with laughter.
“You’ve offended her,” insisted Sydney. “Haven’t you learned yet to
give women their own way?”
But Phil’s gallantry was to receive its reward. A third graceful Kapuan
girl, her high caste face beaming upon them, glided through the tapa
screen. Bowing low before Commander Tazewell, she took the vacant place
at Phil’s side.
Commander Tazewell made a jesting remark in Kapuan, which caused every
one to laugh except the two midshipmen.
“This is Tuamana’s daughter Avao,” the commander said. “I told her
she’d have a difficult time making a choice between my two handsome
aides; but I see she has made up her mind already.”
Avao had taken the fan from Phil’s hand and was now efficiently fanning
him.
A half hour later as they were standing, bidding good-bye to their
hosts, Commander Tazewell announced to Phil that the chief’s daughter
had paid him a signal honor.
“She wants you to be her felinge,”[6] he said, his grave eyes
sparkling. “It’s a Tapau’s[7] privilege to choose. Your obligation is
to present her with soap, tooth powder, in fact, anything she fancies
that you can get in the ship’s store. For this you are privileged to
drink as many cocoanuts and eat as much fruit as you desire at her
father’s house. She will even send you presents of fruit, tapa and
fans. If I were Mr. Monroe, I’d envy you your luck, for Avao is the
belle of Ukula.”
Avao blushed under her bronze and playfully struck the commander with
her fan.
“Leonga Alii!”[8] she exclaimed abashed.
“She understands and speaks English as well as I do,” he said, laughing
at the girl’s sudden shyness. “Once I thought she’d make me her
felinge, but I suppose youth takes rank.”
Once more on the road Commander Tazewell became again serious.
“That affair yesterday is taking on a darker aspect,” he confided.
“Tuamana says that every one knows among the natives that if Judge
Lindsay decides for Panu-Mafili then Kataafa has been persuaded by the
Herzovinians to make war.
“Tuamana, of course,” he added, “is a loyal man. He is on Panu’s side,
but will be loyal to whom Judge Lindsay decides is really the king.”
In front of the big wooden store in the Matafeli district of the town,
Commander Tazewell stopped. Many natives were gathered there. The porch
was crowded, while within the store there seemed to be only standing
room.
“What mischief is going on here?” he exclaimed, a perplexed frown on
his face.
Suddenly Klinger and the stranger of yesterday darkened the doorway.
The stranger gazed coldly upon the Americans but gave no sign of
recognition. He and Klinger continued to talk in their guttural
Herzovinian tongues.
Phil suddenly observed that the air of friendliness they had noted
earlier was now lacking. The natives no longer greeted them. Instead in
the native eye was a sheepish, sullen look.
“That was Count Rosen,” Commander Tazewell said as they again moved
onward. “Klinger, of course, is active and sides with Kataafa.
Klinger’s wife is a native, you know, a close relative of the high
chief. I suppose he’d like to have royalty in the family.”
“The store looked like a recruiting station,” Phil suggested.
Commander Tazewell nodded gravely. “It may be,” he replied.
The Matautu section of Ukula, set aside for the official residences of
the consuls of England and the United States, was being approached.
At the gate of the American consulate, Mr. Lee hailed them. The consul
was naturally a peace loving man, and the fact that he had with him in
Kapua his two daughters was an added argument for peace.
“Come in, commander,” he called from his doorway.
They turned in through the gateway.
“All manner of war rumors,” Mr. Lee exclaimed, as he shook hands, “are
going the rounds. The latest is that a paper has been found written
by Herzovinian statesmen some years ago declaring their country would
never, never permit Kataafa to be king. The Kapuans believe that this
will make Judge Lindsay decide for Panu-Mafili. Until that disgraceful
affair of yesterday, and the rumor of this paper, we all thought that
whatever the decision the three consuls would unite to prevent war.
Panu-Mafili has said openly he and his followers would abide by the
decision. Kataafa appeared willing, but has as yet made no statement.
“The situation is alarming, commander,” Mr. Lee added gravely, “and I
for one am at a loss what should be done.”
“Arrest the white men who are inciting Kataafa to revolt in the event
of an adverse decision and ship them from Kapua; that’s my remedy,”
Commander Tazewell answered promptly.
“Count Rosen and Klinger,” the consul exclaimed. “Impossible!”
Commander Tazewell shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s the one way to prevent war,” he said.
“The Herzovinian consul, after agreeing to stand with us and prevent
a war, has now assumed a mysterious air of importance and we can get
nothing definite from him,” Mr. Lee complained bitterly. “If my advice
had only been followed and Kataafa kept away until after a new king had
been crowned, this perplexing state could not have existed.”
Commander Tazewell was thoughtful for several minutes.
“Mr. Lee,” he said gravely, “I believe that bringing Kataafa back at
this time was a Herzovinian plan. The chief has been in exile for five
years and in a Herzovinian colony, and I hear was treated as a prince
instead of a prisoner. Although his warriors killed Herzovinian sailors
in the last revolt, now he favors that nation. Once he is king of Kapua
he will advance all Herzovinian interests. They may hope even for
annexation, a dream long cherished by Klinger and his countrymen.
“Yes, if the judge decides against Kataafa there will be war,” he
concluded solemnly.
Phil and Sydney listened eagerly. Though these native affairs were
not easy to understand, yet they could not interrupt and ask for
explanations.
At this time there came an interruption in the serious talk between
Commander Tazewell and Mr. Lee. It was the arrival of the two young
ladies. They had been out in the “bush,” as the country back of the sea
beach is called in Kapua. They appeared, their young faces glowing with
health from their recent exercise and their arms full of the scarlet
“pandanus” blossoms.
Margaret, the older girl, was a woman in spite of her nineteen years.
She greeted the newcomers to Kapua with a grace that won the midshipmen
at once. Alice, two years her junior, caught the boyish fancy of the
lads instantly. She seemed to carry with her the free air of the woods,
and exhaled its freshness. She had scarcely a trace of the reserve in
manner of her older sister. Her greeting was spontaneously frank and
unabashed.
While Margaret presided at the tea table, around which Commander
Tazewell and the consul gathered, Alice impressed the willing
midshipmen into her service, and with their arms loaded with the
pandanus flowers, led them to the dining-room. Here she placed the
brilliant blossoms into numerous vases, giving to the room with its
paucity of furniture a gala aspect.
“Do you care for tea?” she said questioningly, implying clearly a
negative answer, which both lads were quick to catch.
“Never take it,” Phil replied quickly. “Do you, Syd?”
Sydney smiled and shook his head.
“Because if you don’t, while the others are drinking it, we can climb
Mission Hill back of the town and enjoy the view of the harbor. It’s
not far,” she added glancing at the spotless white uniform of the young
officers.
She led them at a rapid pace across the garden and by a narrow path
into a thickly wooded copse. The path was apparently one not frequently
used and was choked with creepers and underbrushes. After a score
of yards the path led at a steep angle up the wooded side of one of
the low surrounding hills, which at Matautu descended almost to the
harbor’s edge. Here the shore is rocky and dangerous.
Alice climbed with the ease of a wood sprite, while the midshipmen
lumbered after her in their endeavor to keep pace.
“Here we are,” she cried joyfully as she sprang up the last few feet of
incline and seated herself in the fork of a small mulberry tree.
Out of breath, their white trousers and white canvas shoes stained
with the juice of entangling vines, and with perspiration streaming in
little rivulets down their crimson faces, the two young men looked with
amazement at their slim pace-maker; she was not even out of breath.
“Isn’t it worth coming for?” she exclaimed, perfect enjoyment in
her girlish voice. “See, the town and the harbor and all the ships
lie at our feet; and everything looks so very near;” then she added
whimsically, “I sometimes pretend I am queen and order everything and
every one about--no one else ever comes here,” she explained quickly.
“My sister Margaret came once, but never came again.”
“It’s not easy to get here,” Sydney said, panting slightly, “but it
would more than be worth the trouble if by coming one could really
know the feeling of being a king or a queen. I haven’t sufficient
imagination. What should you do if you were queen?” he asked of Alice.
She drew her brows down thoughtfully.
“I don’t know all that I should do,” she replied earnestly, “but the
very first thing would be to send away every papalangi.”
“The war-ships too?” Phil inquired. “I call that hospitable!”
“I might keep you,” indicating both lads by a wave of her free hand,
“as leaders for my army, but every one else would be sent away and
leave these children of nature free to live their lives as God intended
they should.” A deep conviction in the girl’s voice was not lost upon
the midshipmen.
“Suppose you tell us of Kapua,” Phil said gently, after a short silence.
“Yes, do,” Sydney urged eagerly.
“Tell you of Kapua Uma,”[9] Alice said wistfully. “I have lived here
now three years, and I feel as if the people were my people. They are
gentle, generous and lovable, except when they are excited by the
papalangi. The white men have brought only trouble and sorrow to the
islands. No Kapuan has ever broken his word, except when the white men
have betrayed him. In all their wars they have been generous to their
foes. They never harm women and children. The white men incite war, but
are free from injury, except when they attack the Kapuans first.
“Once all the rich land near the sea belonged to Kapua. Now white
men have stolen it away by fraud and deceit.” Alice’s eyes flashed
indignantly, while her hearers were thrilled by the fervor in her
young voice. “The foreign firm of which Klinger is manager, called the
‘Kapuan Firm,’ owned by Herzovinian capital, is no ordinary company
of South Sea traders,” she added. “It is the feet of the Herzovinian
Empire, holding the door of annexation open. The firm’s business grows
greater every year. They import black labor from the Solomon Islands
and hold them to work as slaves. The treaty gives the Kapuans the right
to choose their king, but the firm will sanction no king who will not
first agree to further the interests of the Kapuan firm.
“Kataafa once fought against the firm and won, but he was exiled by
the Herzovinian government. Now a majority of people again wish him
for king, and this time the firm is not only willing but anxious that
he should be made king. England and America represented in Kapua see
in this a bid for annexation. Judge Lindsay will soon decide between
Kataafa and Panu-Mafili. Panu has given his word he will not fight.
Kataafa signed a sworn agreement in order to obtain the consent of the
three Powers to his return from exile, that he would never again take
up arms.”
Alice stopped breathless. “There you have the full history of Kapua in
a nutshell,” she added laughingly as she slipped down from her seat.
“Poor Panu-Mafili is only a boy. His father, you know, was the late
king Malea-Toa or ‘Laupepe,’ a ‘sheet of paper,’ as the natives called
him, because he was intellectual. Panu begged to be allowed to go away
and study,” she said, “but our great governments need him as a big
piece in the political chess game.”
“More aptly a pawn,” Phil corrected.
Alice was gazing wistfully seaward.
“Out there,” she said after a moment’s silence, “is a sail. It’s
probably the ‘Talofa,’ a schooner from the Fiji. The natives say
‘Bully’ Scott and the ‘Talofa’ scent out wars in the South Seas and
arrive just in time to sell a shipload of rifles.”
The midshipmen saw the tops of a “sail” far out on the horizon.
“If Kataafa needs guns to defy the chief justice, there they are,” she
added.
“Isn’t it against the law to sell guns to the natives?” Sydney asked.
Alice regarded him with high disdain.
“‘Bully’ Scott knows no law nor nationality,” she replied. “To give
your nationality in Kapua is a disadvantage, because then your consul
interferes with your business. When you’re trading in ‘blacks’ and
guns, it’s best to deprive yourself of the luxury of a country. ‘Bully’
Scott is from the world.”
“How do you know that is the ‘Talofa’?” Phil asked incredulously, but
all the same greatly interested.
“I don’t know,” she answered gayly as she led the way toward home; “but
the ‘Talofa’ is a schooner, and the natives believe she will come. And
that’s a schooner.”
Her logic was not convincing to the midshipmen, but then they had not
lived three years in Kapua. Schooners were not frequent visitors at
Ukula.