THE KAPUAN FIRM
Carl Klinger had been sitting in his office at the Kapuan firm’s store
when a loud knocking aroused him from his reveries. He rose quickly to
open the door.
“What do you want?” he inquired roughly in Kapuan as he threw open
the door. A native, much out of breath from running, confronted him.
Klinger saw it was one of the pilot’s boat-crew from the pilot station
on Matautu Point at the entrance to the harbor.
“The ‘Talofa’ coming in through the entrance,” the man replied.
“Captain Svenson send me to tell you quick.”
“How do you know it’s the ‘Talofa’?” Klinger asked incredulously.
He could not believe that Captain Scott would be so foolhardy as to
enter Ukula harbor with his cargo. Twenty Solomon Island natives to
work on the plantations, actually kidnapped from their homes, beside
several thousand Snyder rifles with millions of rounds of ammunition
constituted the greatest part of the “Talofa’s” cargo. Had “Bully”
Scott gone mad?
“No other but Captain Scott could find the entrance to the harbor on
a night like this,” the man replied positively. Klinger noted the
utter blackness of the night. He was enough of a sailorman himself to
understand the dangers attending the navigation of a vessel so large as
the “Talofa.” Even the pilots preferred to wait until daylight before
bringing a vessel through the treacherous coral reefs.
“Wait,” he ordered. Then returning to his desk he wrote several pages
of a letter, sealed and addressed it, then gave it to the native
messenger.
“Take this to the Tivoli Hotel,” he instructed. “Find Count Rosen and
give it into no other hands.”
From the porch of the store he gazed upon the harbor, but the darkness
shrouded the vessel for which his anxious eyes were searching. His mind
was sorely troubled. “Bully” Scott was not a character to pin one’s
faith to. That hardened pirate went where either his fancy led him or
where the greatest amount of coin awaited him. The guns had already
been paid for with Klinger’s money; only the freight charges were due.
The Solomon Islanders were Scott’s own venture. The one balanced the
other. If he should betray the Kapuan firm by permitting the war-ships
to confiscate them as contraband, then the presence of the blacks
would be known and must convict the pirate in any court of the South
Seas. Nationality could not protect slave trading, although it might
the importation of arms. The “Talofa” was sailing illegally under
Herzovinian protection. Count Rosen, while in Fiji, had arranged for
that with Scott. A word from Klinger would cause Scott to be arrested
straightway and taken before the chief justice. The penalty for slave
trading was at least ten years in a penal colony.
“He may have discharged both the slaves and the guns,” he exclaimed.
Then he apparently realized that this was impossible, for he added
aloud, “Couldn’t have done that, or I should have heard of it by now.”
As he still gazed seaward he saw the lights of a war-ship disappear
one at a time, and knew that the schooner was then passing between the
man-of-war and himself.
He called loudly to arouse some of the native help who lived in houses
back of the store.
A native finally appeared.
“Get the boat boys,” Klinger ordered hurriedly. “I shall require them
at once.”
The schooner anchored only a few hundred yards from him before
the sleepy natives had launched his boat. Klinger paced the sand
impatiently. He was consumed with anxiety for the safety of his guns.
Thirty thousand dollars was to be the profit upon them. And besides,
the decision of the chief justice might be given at any moment. Kataafa
must have these guns before the decision was rendered, for that was
required to carry out the “coup de main” which must throw the Kapuan
Islands into the lap of his country.
Angry and bitter at the man who had played fast and loose with his
plans, Klinger climbed the “Talofa’s” side and met the culprit face to
face.
Klinger’s first question was more forceful than elegant. Captain
“Bully” Scott only smiled in his urbane style and answered the question
in Kapuan.
“Hold your tongue. There’s an American naval officer standing aft by
the compass.”
Klinger saw by the dim lantern’s light the sheen of a white duck
uniform.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked suspiciously.
“Only a matter of natural curiosity,” Scott replied.
“Tell me why you didn’t follow my instructions,” Klinger asked. “Have
you the guns on board?”
“I have everything that I started out to bring here,” Scott returned,
“and what’s more I’m going to land everything as snugly as a down East
whaler in winter quarters.”
Klinger felt much relieved. The calm confidence of the man impressed
him.
“How?” was all he could ask.
“Send off your cargo lighters as soon as you can,” Scott explained.
“Get the count to ask for a few sailors from your war-ship to stay here
and prevent the English or Americans from watching us. The count is
then to charter the ‘Talofa’ for a pleasure trip around the group of
islands, starting as soon as we are unloaded. We shall unload part of
the cargo to-night, at once.”
“I don’t dare to take the guns ashore here,” Klinger exclaimed. “We
can’t keep the knowledge away from these prying natives.”
“Just leave that to me. They don’t go ashore here; that’s my plan,”
Captain Scott replied soothingly. “You do as I tell you. That’s all you
need worry about. Does the count know we are in?” he asked.
“I sent him a note as soon as I learned it,” Klinger answered. “I don’t
yet see what was your object in coming here. Saluafata was wide open.”
“All you’ve got to figure on,” Scott said quietly, “is that I’m here.
Say something in English now to throw that young cub naval officer off
the scent and go hurry off those lighters. If you see the count tell
him to come off here or go and get those sailors first.”
Klinger’s mind was relieved of much of the strain of uncertainty, yet
he felt far from sure that Scott’s plan would succeed as easily as the
optimistic Scott imagined. He had not entirely acquitted Scott of the
charge of perfidy.
The two men then spoke in English in regard to the return cargo of the
“Talofa,” and parted apparently to meet again in the morning.
As Klinger rowed ashore he met Count Rosen going out to the schooner.
The two boats stopped alongside each other. Klinger hurriedly outlined
Scott’s plan as far as he had learned it.
“I’ll drop aboard just to satisfy myself that he isn’t betraying us,”
the count said to himself as the two boats went their several ways.
As the count left the “Talofa” and rowed toward the Herzovinian
war-ship, he was nearly convinced that Scott was playing fair, but upon
his return after picking up the white man swimming toward the American
war-ship, distrust of the pirate again appeared strongly in his mind.
Just before dawn Klinger saw the last one of the many boxes brought
ashore from the schooner carried and piled upon the porch of the
store. The twenty new slaves brought by Scott, for whom he had paid a
handsome sum of money to the schooner’s captain, had been set to work
unloading, and they were now on their way under native guard to the
Vaileli plantation.
The boxes landed were of all sizes, and most of them were left unopened
upon the porch of the store. Klinger stationed two of his boat boys as
guard, and then turned in upon the small bed in his office.
“Mighty queer proceedings,” he exclaimed as he closed his tired eyes.
“But I guess the count can handle the situation.”
When Count Rosen awakened the next morning, his first act was to open
the blinds and glance out upon the harbor. Everything was peaceful
and serene; the “Talofa” lay snugly at anchor. The firm’s lighters
were alongside the dock in front of the store. It was low tide and the
fringing reef was peopled with natives gathering the many edibles,
turtle, crayfish and a variety of shell-fish, that form a great
proportion of the Kapuan diet. The count entered the adjoining room;
the memory of the man picked up from the water the night before had
suddenly recurred to him. The room was empty. He called loudly for his
native boy.
“Where is the stranger?” he asked.
“Gone out for a bath,” the boy answered innocently, showing his white
teeth in a childlike smile.
“Bring him back at once,” the count commanded. “Tell him I wish to see
him.”
The boy hastened on his errand, jingling several pieces of silver he
had acquired from the very stranger whom he was seeking.
The count dressed hastily and himself took up the search for the
missing man.
On the beach in front of the hotel he encountered his boy quietly
sitting in the sand, his gaze upon the panorama of the bay.
“Where is he?” the count exclaimed, much annoyed at the boy’s
indifference.
“Afraid he’s not here,” the boy acknowledged.
If a look could kill the native would have died on the spot.
It was evident that the stranger had sought other protection.
Much annoyed at losing this man, whom he believed might have given him
information of value to hold over the head of Captain Scott, he turned
his steps toward his consulate.
Mr. Carlson was drinking tea on his porch when the count arrived.
“I came to tell you,” the count said condescendingly, “that I am taking
a trip on that schooner anchored in the bay. Klinger discharged the
cargo last night. It was all for the Kapuan firm.”
The consul should have been consulted first before discharging cargo,
but he knew that to hold his place as consul he must always meet the
demands of Klinger.
“I’d like to have you give me the clearance papers,” the count
continued. “She will go to the plantations for copra and then return
here. She’s now in ballast.”
Carlson called his native clerk and told him to prepare the papers. The
count was named as supercargo for the trip.
After receiving the clearance papers the count did not linger at the
consulate.
“Remember, Mr. Carlson,” he said as he rose to go, “if the chief
justice decides not to acknowledge Kataafa as king, you have agreed
to refuse to stand with the other consuls to uphold that decision. The
eagle,” he added, “is a coveted decoration.”
The consul blushed with pleasure and smilingly nodded his fat head
vigorously.
Having eaten his breakfast and packed up sufficient clothes to take
with him in the “Talofa,” the count strolled to the store. Klinger
having been up all night was yet asleep in his office. The count seated
himself on the porch and sent word by one of the natives standing guard
over the freight from the schooner.
Klinger appeared shortly.
“You did a good night’s work, I see,” said the count.
Klinger nodded sleepily.
“Has Captain Scott a white man in his crew?” the count asked.
“Yes, of course. Stump,” the manager replied, opening wide his eyes. “I
remember now I didn’t see him on the schooner last night.”
“What does this Stump look like?” the count asked. Klinger described
him accurately.
“That’s the very man,” the count exclaimed in alarm. “He deserted the
schooner and tried to swim to the American war-ship. I picked him out
of the water nearly drowned, and he slept at the Tivoli Hotel last
night. He’s now loose in Ukula, and may spoil everything unless we can
stop his tongue.”
Klinger, however, did not seem greatly alarmed.
“It’s odd that Scott didn’t speak of it, but I’m sure he can do no
harm,” he replied quietly. “Stump is a peaceful, simple soul. Hasn’t
sense enough to know how to harm anybody except himself. We are sure
to get the arms to Kataafa, and the ‘black’ boys are now at Vaileli
plantation.”
“What are you going to do with these more or less empty boxes?” the
count suddenly asked, tapping upon them with his cane, apparently
satisfied over the matter of Stump.
“Leave them right here until I again hear from you,” Klinger replied.
“They’ll arouse every one’s curiosity and divert attention from the
‘Talofa.’”
The count nodded. “But not without a guard,” he said pointedly. “You
must see Carlson and have him order the war-ship’s captain to send a
file of sailors to spend the night at the store. That will help us a
great deal, and,” he added, “don’t be too secret about it.”
“I understand,” Klinger answered knowingly.
“I’ll be off in the ‘Talofa’ this forenoon,” the count said, glancing
out on the bay. “There doesn’t seem to be much breeze, yet it will be
enough, I dare say, for the ‘Talofa’ to clear the entrance reefs.”
The count was on the point of taking his departure. “Whoever comes
ashore with the sailor guard should thoroughly understand what is
expected of his men,” he continued.
Klinger reassured him, and as he watched the commanding figure of the
count disappear down the road, the manager smiled in perfect enjoyment.
“They didn’t make any mistake when they sent him to Kapua,” he
exclaimed admiringly.
Several hours later Klinger watched the “Talofa” beat cleverly against
a light head wind out of the harbor. He watched the swift schooner,
under a full spread of canvas, sail to the eastward until the point of
Matautu, with its high cliffs, shut her off from view.
“So Stump’s deserted that old pirate Scott at last,” he said to
himself amusedly. “When thieves fall out,” he quoted. “I wonder
where the simpleton is at this minute.--I rather like him,” he added
thoughtfully, “and if I could find him I’d be inclined to shield him
from that hypocrite of a sea-pirate.”
A native came briskly along the road advancing toward Klinger, a letter
held out to him. Klinger took it, opened and read.
“If Stump turns up after I am gone lock him up. I will explain when I
return.
“SCOTT.”
Klinger tore the note into small pieces, strewing them on the ground as
he walked rapidly toward the center of the town.
At the municipal building he stopped. Several native policemen lounged
about on the ground or squatted upon rude wooden benches.
“Hey, Johnny Upolu!” he called, and a tall, finely muscled native,
attired in a blue cotton lava-lava[14] and helmet, hurriedly drew on
his blue policeman’s coat over his nakedness.
“You know Stump, mate of the ‘Talofa’?” he said. The chief of the
municipal police smiled knowingly. “He’s been up to mischief and the
consul wants him taken up.”
Johnny smiled proudly. He was a strong partisan of Kataafa, and was
only too eager to show his friendliness to the papalangi, who were
backing his favorite chief.
“All right, Missi Klinger,” he replied in a strictly businesslike
voice. “I’ll get him.”
Klinger smiled his satisfaction and passed on his way.
At the consulate his reception was none too cordial. Carlson disliked
the ascendency which this manager of a commercial firm had over one
occupying the office of representative of his government, especially as
Klinger made no attempt to soften this evident fact by any “finesse”
whatsoever. Klinger openly accused the consul of being soft-hearted,
and too friendly with the English and Americans.
“I must ride to Faleula plantation to-night,” Klinger said brusquely
after he had seated himself. “I haven’t had time to unpack and stow
away some valuable cargo just received from the ‘Talofa,’ and I want
a guard of sailors from the war-ship to protect the store during my
absence.”
Carlson glanced at Klinger in open-eyed surprise.
“What will come next?” he exclaimed. “Sailors to guard your store from
robbers! Who are the robbers?”
Klinger shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
“Maybe your friends the English and Americans,” he said calmly. “I have
asked you for a guard. I know the business of the firm better than you
do. That’s what I’m paid for.”
The consul bit his lips in suppressed rage.
“Is this another one of your tricks,” the consul exclaimed, “to further
mortify me?” He had in mind only too vividly another occasion where
Klinger had demanded sailors to guard his property and then had hoisted
the flag at the municipal flagstaff, telling all the natives that his
country had annexed the islands. The flag remained flying only until
the next mail arrived, when the consul was severely reprimanded by his
government and was forced to haul down the flag and rehoist the Kapuan
ensign in its place.
“I want about a dozen sailors,” Klinger insisted. “If you need a little
leg stiffening,” he added cruelly, “I don’t mind telling you that Count
Rosen approves, even suggested the action.” Klinger had sized up his
hearer.
“That puts another aspect on the question,” Carlson exclaimed, much
mollified by the mention of the count’s concurrence. “When do you
require these sailors?”
“By four o’clock this afternoon,” Klinger replied, “and I forgot to say
I told the chief of police in your name to arrest and hold one Stump, a
deserter from the ‘Talofa.’”
“Stump! Why, he’s English or American!” Carlson exclaimed alarmedly.
“I’m having enough trouble without borrowing more.”
“Another suggestion of the count,” Klinger said quietly. “Please send a
written warrant to Johnny Upolu at once.”
[Illustration: “I WANT ABOUT A DOZEN SAILORS”]
“Oh, well, then, that’s all right,” the consul replied, again changing
his tone of voice. “The count, Klinger, is a very brilliant diplomat
and I’m sure would not suggest anything which would get me into
trouble.”
“I dare say,” Klinger said with a smirk. “The difference between you
and the count in diplomacy is that he knows what he wants.”
Carlson turned very red, but upon second thoughts appeared not to
notice the implied insult.
With a curt good-morning Klinger took his departure.
“Why do they send such mountains of ignorance and conceit to manage
our political affairs?” he complained. He little reckoned that a wise
government had sent Carlson to act as a check upon Klinger. The radical
Klinger and the conservative Carlson gave the exact mixture required.
At exactly four o’clock the sailors arrived. Klinger took aside the
petty officer in charge and in detail laid down for him the course he
was to follow during his absence.
Then he mounted his little pony and turned its head toward Kulinuu, the
seat of government of the uncrowned king, Kataafa.
Arriving at the king’s house, he entered and was ceremoniously received.
Kava was made and all the chiefs were gathered to drink.
Klinger talked for nearly an hour, explaining and directing. Then he
rose and bade a ceremonious farewell. Accompanied by several mounted
natives he departed, and in the gathering darkness took the trail
leading back of Ukula and toward the eastward, while Faleula, where he
told Carson he was going, lay in exactly the opposite direction.