RUMORS OF WAR
Commander Tazewell and the midshipmen dined that evening with Mr. Lee
and his daughters.
“The evidence is all in, commander,” the American consul said as the
party sought the cool sea breeze on the “lanai,”[24] facing the harbor.
“The chief justice will probably render his decision in the morning.”
Tazewell expressed his gratification.
“And the Herzovinian consul?” he asked. “Does he still refuse to help
to prevent a war?”
Mr. Lee’s face became grave.
“The three consuls held a meeting this afternoon after you had gone,”
he said in reply. “The English consul and I unconditionally agreed to
support the judge’s choice. Mr. Carlson seemed ill at ease. He could
not be made to give a direct answer on any question, and all of a
sudden he declared he had an important engagement and bolted from the
room. We saw that he was under a serious mental strain.”
“I see,” Commander Tazewell said quietly. “Have you an idea what the
decision will be?” he asked.
Mr. Lee remained silently in thought for a moment. “Personally no,
but my confidants among the natives all say Judge Lindsay is against
Kataafa. I know the judge to be an honorable and unbiased man,” he
added in defense of his friend. “That we Americans are inclined in
our sympathies for Panu would have no influence with him at all. This
unimpeachable testimony of the demand made some years ago by Herzovinia
and Kataafa’s recent discourtesy to the court in keeping the judge
waiting, besides practically refusing to agree to abide by the judge’s
decision, may influence a judgment against him.”
“Then Carlson must have received instructions to uphold the judge’s
decision, only in case it is favorable to Kataafa,” the commander said.
“Now that it appears to be going against him, he refuses to stand with
you and your British colleague.”
Mr. Lee nodded his head. “That seems to be the one possible solution.”
Commander Tazewell had given the consul that morning a full account of
the “Talofa.” Now he brought up the subject of the meeting of the Panu
warriors and their “tonga-fiti.”
“I had at first thought to advise Tuamana against any action by the
Panu warriors,” Commander Tazewell said, “but on second thoughts I
decided it was better to keep my hands off and trust it to you. If
those boxes landed from the ‘Talofa’ do contain guns, they ought to be
seized, but not by natives, even though they say they will turn them
over to the judge.” Mr. Lee nodded his agreement with the sentiment.
“As soon as I got your note telling me of the ‘tonga-fiti,’” Mr. Lee
replied, “I went at once to Tuamana. I advised him against action. You
see, commander,” Mr. Lee declared earnestly, “a forcible entry into
the Kapuan firm’s store will bring the Herzovinian sailors ashore to
protect their property.”
“Good. I’m glad you saw Tuamana,” Commander Tazewell assured him. “And
he agreed to carry out your wish?” he asked.
“He listened very patiently and seemed to agree,” Mr. Lee said. “Then
he told me that he now knew the guns were not at the store, but still
on the ‘Talofa’ and were to be landed to-night at Saluafata.”
“That is what this man Stump also claims,” the commander exclaimed.
“By the way, thank you for your promptness in having the poor fellow
released. O’Neil has him in charge on board the ‘Sitka.’”
While the consul and the commander discussed the affairs of the
nations, the young people had gone to the landing, where O’Neil had
brought the sailing launch, its sails spread and flapping in the gentle
breeze.
Miss Lee had brought her banjo and Avao, who joined them, held an
Hawaiian “ukalele,” a small guitar with only three strings. As the sail
filled and the launch gathered way, their young voices charmed the
night with a variety of plaintive Kapuan songs. Several canoes with
both men and women natives, paddling lazily across the bay, joined in
the songs. It seemed like fairyland to the midshipmen.
They sailed around the men-of-war in turn, serenading; then shaped
their course for Kulinuu Point on the western side of Ukula.
“What do you know new?” Phil asked Alice during a lull in the music.
“That the guns are to be landed from the ‘Talofa’ at Saluafata
to-morrow, and that Kataafa leaves Kulinuu with all his people
to-night,” she replied.
“Where did you hear this?” he asked wonderingly.
“Avao told me, but every one in Ukula knows it,” she answered. “There’s
no difficulty learning secrets. No secrets are kept. The difficulty is
to recognize a secret from a trick.”
“What do you mean?” Phil inquired, mystified.
Alice laughed lightly thrumming the cords of the “ukalele” Avao had
relinquished.
“When you have a secret which you know will be found out before you
can act,” she explained, “why, you deliberately spread a lot of rumors
which will confuse your enemies. I have heard that the arms were to
be landed at Vaileli, and that Klinger had said he was going there.
That Kataafa was going to Saluafata and also Melie. That the arms were
already in Kulinuu. That the arms were on the Herzovinian war-ship and
would be given to Kataafa at Saluafata to-morrow, and that the arms
were in the boxes on the porch of the Kapuan firm’s store.”
“Well,” Phil exclaimed, “that is rather confusing. And you decided that
the arms would be landed in Saluafata?”
Alice nodded. “I was all this afternoon at the ‘lookout’ on Mission
Hill,” she said. “I saw the ‘Talofa’ far out on the horizon, her hull
invisible, only the top of her masts in sight. With this breeze she
could have gone out of sight. She’s waiting for darkness.”
“And Kataafa is leaving Kulinuu to-night?” Phil asked.
“I got that from Mary Hamilton,” she answered. “Klinger’s wife is from
Saluafata. Her father is the chief of that village. She came to Ukula
this morning from the Vaileli plantation where Klinger ordinarily
lives. She left in a canoe for Saluafata.”
Phil gazed in wonder at the slim girl beside him. “You’re a marvel,”
he exclaimed admiringly.
Alice smiled. “I love to work things out,” she acknowledged. “You men
seem so incapable, while the motives of the natives are really so easy
to follow.”
The boat was sailing near Kulinuu Point. Phil glanced across the
intervening water.
“Let’s land and walk home,” he said to Alice. All agreed readily.
A passing canoe was called alongside the deep draft launch and the
passengers quickly transferred.
“All right, O’Neil,” Phil said. “You may return to the ship. We’ll go
back to town on foot.”
They landed on the pebbly beach and walked across to the main street
leading between the double row of royal palm trees. It was a deserted
village. Every one had departed.
Avao found an old woman crooning in the corner of a house and asked her
a question.
The old hag recognized her and turned upon her fiercely.
At the Kapuan firm’s store, on their way home, the party again
stopped. Avao’s quick eye caught the gleam of metal from the porch. She
deliberately walked forward until a challenge brought her to a stop.
Phil saw a Herzovinian sailor, gun leveled, walk toward the girl, who
was standing stock-still several paces from the steps.
The challenge had brought several more sailors to the door. Many
natives, living in houses in the surrounding bush, quickly gathered,
and their childish curiosity pressed them forward. Before five
minutes had elapsed a crowd of nearly fifty warriors and maidens were
surrounding the front of the store; and as their number swelled, the
crowd grew more bold and advanced toward the house. The sailors stood
their ground with guns held ready.
“This is awkward,” Phil exclaimed excitedly to Sydney. “Something’s got
to be done at once or we’ll have the ‘tonga-fiti’ after all. Follow
me.” He advanced, pushing his way through the crowd. The midshipmen
were in uniform, and the natives gave way readily before them. Phil had
almost reached Avao’s side, when a loud report of a rifle discharged
brought him to a stand. Several more shots were then fired in rapid
succession. The natives instantly backed away; but when they found no
one had been hurt they stopped and began talking and gesticulating
wildly.
Phil seized Avao by the arm and turned quickly back toward the road.
From out on the water a rocket soared into the sky.
“Well, of all the mysteries,” Phil exclaimed as they hurried back
toward the consulate. “I wonder if the guns are in that store after
all?”
At the landing the Herzovinian cutters were beginning to arrive as Phil
and his party passed. They saw a company of sailors with two officers
quickly form and move at double time up the road.
The lads soon saw Commander Tazewell and the American consul hurrying
toward the town.
“What has happened?” Commander Tazewell demanded of Phil as they met.
Phil breathlessly explained. “I suppose the war-ship thought it was
an attack,” he ended. “But why are the guards there at all unless
the guns are in the store and not on board the schooner? Kulinuu is
deserted,” he added. “We landed there and walked home.”
“Kataafa probably has the guns by now,” Commander Tazewell said to the
consul in a low voice which Phil could barely hear. “Is this a plan to
trick us into committing ourselves before the chief justice’s decision
is rendered?”
“There’s no need of our going further, commander,” the consul said,
nervously regarding his daughters with a fond eye and fearful of danger
to them. “Come back with me. We can talk more privately.”
A figure proceeding from the landing was soon recognized as the British
captain.
He was given a full account of the incident, and appeared very much
relieved.
“When I heard the shots and the answering rocket from the war-ship,” he
exclaimed, “I at once imagined that Kataafa was attacking Ukula. I have
my men ready and the boats lowered,” he added. “Thought I’d come ashore
to look about first. I was going to camp them in the British consul’s
yard.”
The party, with the exception of Avao, returned to the American
consulate. The “Tapau,” with an innocent smile and a cheery “Talofa,
Alii,”[25] slipped away by a “bush” trail.
“What we need, Tazewell,” the British captain declared as the “lanai”
was reached and all were seated quietly, “is information. We must send
out scouts and find out where this Kataafa has gone and what that
fellow Klinger is up to. Our mysterious count,” he added, “is not out
purely for pleasure.”
“I have been thinking over a plan,” Commander Tazewell replied.
“This Captain Scott is an American citizen and is sailing under the
Herzovinian flag. His mate, Stump, who deserted him, has given us
evidence that he came into Ukula with ‘blacks’ for the Kapuan firm and
guns for Klinger. All circumstances seem to show that we shall find
everything we are searching for at Saluafata. That’s the Herzovinian
port, leased to their government, and I dare not send there to arrest
him. But I can send a party by land to observe and bring us news.”
“Right-oh!” the British captain agreed. “I think I’ll send my steam
pinnace to fish along the edge of the reef toward Saluafata. There’s
rare fishing there. Have you ever trolled for these big Kapuan bonitos,
using pearl-shell hooks?” he asked. “I have a lieutenant who is keen on
it.”
Preparations were made at once for an early start on the morrow.
The distance to Saluafata by trail was about fifteen miles, and by
water scarcely ten. A code of signals was decided upon to facilitate
communication between the American land party and the British steam
launch. Mr. Lee took upon himself the supply of ponies. The two
midshipmen and O’Neil were selected by Commander Tazewell to go.
“I’ll send them openly,” Commander Tazewell said, as the naval officers
rose to take their departure from the consulate; “in uniform, of
course.”
Alice Lee endeavored in vain to win her father’s permission to go along
with the midshipmen. “I may be able to help them,” she declared. “I
know the trail and speak Kapuan.”
The midshipmen and O’Neil were on the dock at an early hour the next
day. There they found three intelligent little ponies waiting them.
Phil carried a sketch chart of the road to be taken.
As they passed through the Matautu district of Ukula, they caught a
glimpse of Alice’s wistful face gazing upon them from the porch of the
consulate. She waved them a good-bye, while all three raised their caps
in return.
“She’s a plucky girl,” Sydney exclaimed, “but I feel more free without
a girl along. We can’t tell; there may be a chance for a fight before
we get back.”
O’Neil chuckled. “No fear,” he said. “A Kapuan wouldn’t raise his
finger against a naval officer. Unless,” he added grimly, “these
scheming white traders put them up to it.”
The trail was none too good for their ponies and the going was slow. At
the village of Tangali they stopped and got a black boy, a laborer on a
near-by plantation, to gather for them a few green cocoanuts. The boy
readily climbed a tall slender tree with the agility of a monkey.
“All he requires is a tail,” Phil said as the black boy dropped the
fruit into their hands and then came rapidly down to receive his reward.
At the next village, Paulei, which was deserted, as was the former
town, of all except old women and children, O’Neil pointed out the very
spot where the American Captain O’Malley had tricked the Herzovinian
war-ship in its attempt to bombard the Kataafa warriors nearly a decade
ago.
“He knew to the king’s taste how to handle a foreigner, and they all
liked him for it too,” he exclaimed admiringly.
“The Irish have a way with ’em,” Sydney said, smiling broadly.
“Not at all, sir,” the sailor replied. The joke apparently passed him
by without notice, except for a comical deprecating glance at its
author. “He couldn’t be bluffed and was always on the job. If it hadn’t
been for him the Herzovinian flag would be flying over these islands
to-day.”
“Maybe it would be a good thing,” Phil said, and Sydney agreed quickly,
to lead O’Neil on.
“It ain’t the islands, sir; that ain’t what’s making me want to see
the foreigners get left,” O’Neil explained. “It’s the way they go about
trying to get ’em.”
“I suppose, O’Neil,” Sydney interjected, “that you think it would
have been more gentlemanly and in keeping with the dignity of a great
country to just take them and let the British and Americans like it or
lump it as they pleased.”
“Exactly so, sir,” O’Neil declared. “That’s the way I figure it ought
to be done.”
“That’s because you’re Irish, O’Neil,” Phil told him jokingly. “The
Irish always seize the government. When they can’t control it, they’re
against it. The nation that gets these islands,” he added, “desires to
be right before the world. To do so she must have a very good excuse to
seize them. All three nations would be glad to take an option on the
group, but when one appears to be gaining ground, the other two combine
against her.”
“That’s it exactly, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil exclaimed. “But Herzovinia is
gaining among the natives. Even though they are taking their land,
they are making money for the natives. The Americans and English are
standing in the way of Kapuan prosperity.”
“If one nation owned these islands by itself, it could make them a
paradise,” Sydney exclaimed enthusiastically. “I have never seen such
magnificent country in my life. It seems a natural garden, and back
there on the mountains,” he added, glancing toward Mount Lautu with its
crater-shaped summit, “they say are the finest and most valuable hard
wood trees in the world.”
“You may be sure,” O’Neil confided, “Herzovinia is going to get this
island. A statesman, way back in the eighties, wrote that in his
note-book and every one of them ‘savvys’[26] the plan and is pulling
for it. If we just set our eyes on the other island, Kulila, with the
harbor shaped like a shoe, called Tua-Tua, and give up our share in
this one, England would have to pull stakes and get out.”
Both midshipmen laughed. “We might have known O’Neil would be against
the English,” Sydney said.
“What has England ever done for the Irish?” O’Neil replied defensively.
The three horsemen crossed two fair sized streams, stopping to allow
their ponies to plunge their hot noses deep into the cool mountain
water. From the next hill the harbor of Saluafata opened out before
them.
“There’s the ‘Talofa,’” Sydney cried joyfully. They searched the ocean
for the steam launch, but the land and trees shut out the view to the
westward.
“Hark!” O’Neil exclaimed. They listened. From below them the faint
music of singing came up to them. “There’s where the people are, down
there,” he added.
“War canoes,” O’Neil said pointing. The beach was hidden by the
foliage, but as O’Neil spoke several large canoes had suddenly
appeared, being propelled swiftly alongside the anchored schooner.
Phil urged his horse onward.
“Excuse me, sir,” O’Neil exclaimed nervously. “Those glasses you have
there,” indicating a pair of ship’s binoculars Phil wore slung over his
shoulders, “will give us all the information we want without going any
further into the lion’s mouth.”
Phil gazed upon the sailor in surprise.
“Do you think there is danger in riding down there?” he asked.
O’Neil hesitated. “That depends,” he answered thoughtfully.
“Upon what?” Sydney insisted.
“Upon what the white men who are fixing this show intend doing,” the
sailor said.
“We can’t turn back now,” Phil declared. “It would look as if we were
afraid.”
O’Neil nodded. “I guess you’re right, Mr. Perry,” the boatswain’s mate
replied grimly. He knew from experience the danger in appearing before
an army of armed warriors, who have been keyed to the highest pitch of
savage excitement.
The three horsemen urged their steeds forward and descended the hill
road leading down to the populous town of Saluafata.