HIGH CHIEF KATAAFA
Klinger, after leaving Kataafa and his chiefs at Kulinuu, took the
trail leading behind the town of Ukula. He desired if possible to keep
his movements secret, although he felt sure that before long it would
be unnecessary. The movement of the Kataafa warriors by both land and
sea must be seen by the natives of the other faction.
As he gave his pony his head, he dwelt happily upon the success that
had so far attended his efforts.
The manager and his native companions stopped at every village en
route. They found the warriors collected ready to hear his words. Then
after he had ridden on, the entire village made ready to follow afoot
or in canoes within the barrier reef.
It was long past midnight before he reached the village of Saluafata.
His native companions left him, and he entered a large native house
built off by itself overlooking the bay and but a few hundred yards
from the beach.
A native woman, comely and dignified in European costume, met him at
the door.
“‘Talofa’s’ not in?” he asked in Kapuan.
On the table a cold supper was waiting him. After eating, he stood for
several minutes gazing upon the dark waters of the bay.
“Don’t wake me until the schooner anchors,” he said to the woman who
was then clearing away the remnants of his meal. “My bed ready? I’m
dead sleepy.”
After Klinger had gone to his room the woman took her master’s clothes
and proceeded to the little stream a few hundred yards up the beach.
There she began to wash the soiled garments. As the day dawned the
settlement commenced to awaken from its slumber. Fishermen launched
their canoes, paddling out to the reef to seek for shell-fish. Native
woman after woman appeared, squatting down in the shallow brook to
cleanse her own and her husband’s slender wardrobe. A babble of musical
voices rose above the noise of the brook and the distant thunder of the
surf on the reef.
“Missi Klinger come?” asked one woman as she noticed in the early
morning light the clothes being washed by Klinger’s wife.
Fanua nodded joyfully. She was very proud of being the wife of the
manager of the Kapuan firm. She was a comely woman, much younger than
Klinger, but the first bloom of youth had vanished. There yet remained
a certain charm of movement. Every gesture was full of grace, the
effect of her long training as the Tapau[27] of Saluafata, where, until
Klinger married her, she had led the village in all its dances and
processions.
The throng of women continued to increase. All plied questions to the
smiling Fanua, who answered them all good-naturedly.
When would Kataafa arrive? What was going to happen? Had the chief
justice said who was to be king? Could they go ahead and build
their new house? Was there to be war? Would the islands be taken by
Herzovinia?
The women of Kapua are the source of all gossip. Nothing can be kept
secret from their intelligent intellects. Nor can any of them keep a
secret an instant. It is their stock in trade. As they washed, as they
beat out the tapa cloth, as they wove the sennit string from cocoanut
fiber, as they gathered the thatch for the roofs of their houses, or as
they swept clean their houses and adjoining space, their voices were
always raised to gossip with their nearest neighbors. Nothing missed
their watchful eyes. News travels fast. An incident happens in one
village and in an incredibly short time the news has been passed from
house to house and village to village until the whole island has buzzed
with the knowledge.
The sun had been up several hours when the “Talofa” crawled slowly
through the narrow entrance to the harbor, between the reefs, and
anchored scarcely a stone’s throw from the shore.
The rattle of her chain awoke Klinger. He arose at once. Fanua was at
work preparing breakfast. He watched in silence from the window. He
saw a boat lowered and shortly shove off for the beach. It grounded in
front of his house. He waved a greeting. The count and Captain Scott
stepped ashore.
Fanua welcomed them at the door with the musical Kapuan salutation
“Talofa, Alii,” and then hastened away to finish preparing the
breakfast with her own hands, a duty never entrusted to another.
“Your wife?” the count asked. Klinger nodded, but his hasty flush told
plainly that the acknowledgment was a slight mortification before this
superior gentleman.
“I’m here for life,” he replied, as if he deemed it necessary to
explain. “Kapua is no place for a woman of our race to live, and I
needed a companion. I was lonely. Fanua is a queen, in spite of her
brown skin.”
The count put out his hand in ready sympathy. Klinger took it
gratefully, and no more was said.
“Did you get that hound, Ben Stump?” Captain Scott asked eagerly after
a short silence.
Klinger nodded. “The chief of police was after him. He’ll be found
unless he left Ukula.”
“He took with him some papers,” Scott explained. “I didn’t find it
out until a few minutes before we sailed, and the count would not
wait. Have you any one you can trust to send back to get them? If the
American man-of-war captain reads them before I get clear of these
islands, it’s all over with me and the ‘Talofa.’”
“We’ll have you clear in short order now,” Klinger encouraged. “Have
you breakfasted?”
The count and Scott declined to partake of the tempting food set before
them. Klinger ate hurriedly, his wife serving him, while the count
and Scott walked to the door, from whence they looked out upon the
increasingly busy scene. The village of Saluafata was being invaded
from all directions by the followers of Kataafa. They were arriving
by road, long lines of almost naked warriors and half clad women, and
the beach was already crowded with the canoes of those who had come by
water. Each village as it arrived selected its own spot for preparation.
Klinger soon joined his companions. Such gatherings of the natives were
old stories to both Klinger and Captain Scott, but to the count the
sight was one of absorbing interest.
Kataafa himself and his more important chiefs were in the “Malae,” or
public square of the village, when the three papalangi arrived there.
The greeting between the wily old Kapuan rebel and the count was
ceremonial to an extreme. Klinger had previously made it plain that
this “papalangi” was the special ambassador of his great nation beyond
the sea--a nation which was much more powerful than both England and
America put together.
The would-be king made the count sit next to him, and then the ceremony
of kava drinking was begun. This solemn custom of preparing the root
and mixing the kava can never be dispensed with at any ceremony in
which the Kapuans take part. To omit it would be a grave ceremonial
blunder.
Kataafa and his important chiefs and their women sat under the
spreading branches of an umbrella tree, whose horizontal boughs covered
with dark green foliage gave shelter from the scorching sun to nearly
two hundred men and women. The warriors sat in serried ranks, close
to their chosen king, while the women fringed the edge of the densely
packed crowd.
The various villages formed their companies where they had camped
upon arrival, and very soon they could be heard approaching. Faint
singing was heard in the distance, becoming stronger as the groups
advanced. At last the war chant burst out in all its barbaric melody.
The maidens led, two abreast, their Tapau in front, dressed in her most
elaborate creation of fine mats, tapa and girdles of sweet-scented
grass. Her skin, shiny with oil, resembling soft satin, and her locks
polished to the deep bluish black of the raven’s wing. Upon her head
rested grotesquely the Tapau head-dress of human hair and shells of
pearl. Around her throat were string after string of shells and beads.
Following the maidens came the warriors, each carrying a staff to
represent a rifle.
As each village arrived they danced wildly, keeping time to their
quick, inspiring chant, the women, led by their graceful Tapau, swaying
from side to side in perfect time, while the men brandished their
wooden guns, in pantomime of battle.
Then the villagers with a sudden burst of throaty sound, resembling
the final roar of a wave dashing upon the reef, deposited their food
offerings and withdrew to their appointed places, from where they would
take part in the great “fono,”[28] called by their candidate for king.
Count Rosen gazed in undisguised admiration upon this wonderfully
drilled assemblage. All were now sitting immovable on the ground, their
deep lustrous eyes turned in the direction of the inner circle of
chiefs, where sat their calm leader.
After several minutes of impressive silence a chief rose to his feet
and struck the attitude traditional to the Kapuan of one who wishes
to be heard. He carried a “fui” of white horsehair in his right hand,
while his left rested upon the knob of his orator’s staff.
He talked for nearly fifteen minutes, while the multitude listened in
breathless attention.
“He is Kataafa’s talking man,” Klinger whispered to the count. “He has
told them that you are here to help crown their chosen king.”
Captain Scott was becoming restless. These native “fonos” he knew were
often long drawn out affairs. He was anxious to be free, to sail away
from the Kapuan Islands. He did not relish being stopped by an American
war-ship.
“Can’t you cut this short?” he asked Klinger.
Klinger shook his head.
“There’s no danger,” he assured Scott. “I have spies out, and when they
bring me news of any movement which may threaten us, there will be time
enough. The Kapuan cannot be hurried in his deliberations. We must be
sure these people are all on our side before we give them the means to
accomplish our purpose.”
“How about my pay for carrying your guns?” Scott asked.
Klinger nodded. “I have your check in my pocket,” he replied quietly.
Then he rose to speak to the assemblage. His words were eagerly heard
by the chiefs, and after he had finished the talking man in a loud
liquid voice gave Klinger’s meaning to the crowd. There was a murmur of
disapproval from several quarters. Chiefs arose at many points in the
crowd, their talking men beside them. It was considered undignified
for a chief to speak for himself.
Klinger’s placid face remained calm. The count showed plainly his
anxiety, while Captain Scott smiled grimly.
“A little previous, I’m thinking,” Scott said, shaking his head
knowingly.
“What did you say to displease them?” the count demanded of Klinger.
“I told them that for the support we should give them they must refuse
to trade with any one but us, and that Herzovinia would hoist her flag
at Kulinuu to protect them from the anger of the English and Americans.”
“Is that all?” the count exclaimed.
Klinger hesitated. “I also said that land claims of our people must be
acknowledged by the king before the arms were given them.”
The count showed great displeasure.
“What land claims?” he asked.
“All claims,” Klinger replied. “The Kapuan firm holds many miles of
land claimed by English, American and Kapuans. The firm cannot give
this land up.”
The count bit his lips.
“It must be now exacted as a condition, count,” Klinger declared
insistently. “To give in upon any point would be considered by the
Kapuans a sign of weakness.”
“You have delayed the thing unnecessarily,” Captain Scott growled.
“They’ll argue this point for hours.”
Klinger was obdurate.
“The harbor of Tua-Tua is one of our claims,” he said to the count in
an undertone. “The American government succeeded in leasing some land
there for a coaling station. That is the purpose of this condition. The
Americans must leave that harbor.”
The count appeared puzzled.
“After we have taken over the islands,” he said, “then we could ask the
American government to give up their lease.”
“I have lived among these people many years, count,” Klinger explained
determinedly. “The island of Kulila, in which is Tua-Tua, is for
the most part loyal to Panu-Mafili. After Kataafa becomes king, he
must bring that island under control. We must help him to take the
warriors across the straits and supply him arms and ammunition to fight
successfully against Chief Moanga, who is a very formidable warrior.
Otherwise we shall not control all of the islands.”
While the “fono” was still in progress a messenger arrived with
information of an important character.
Kataafa heard the messenger in silence. He did not show by a single
muscle that the news displeased him.
“The chief justice rendered his decision this morning,” Klinger told
the count in a whisper. “He has decided that Panu-Mafili is the king of
all Kapua, and all who take up arms against him are declared rebels.”
The news had a quieting effect upon the natives after Kataafa’s talking
man had given it to them in his loud, eloquent words.
“A lucky strike,” Captain Scott exclaimed. “Now I think they will
agree.”
Kataafa, through his talking man, gave his word that all the conditions
made by the Herzovinians were accepted.
The white men rose and left the council. The temper of the people, as
they passed out among them, was again happy. Smiles and hand-shakes
met them on every side. The war shout was begun and thundered out in
perfect time.
“Kataafa Tupu-e-Kapua[29]--ah!”
The people had declared their willingness to be declared rebels, and
undertook to defy the chief justice.
Klinger’s face shone with delight. The first move was successful. Only
one more was necessary. Kataafa holding Ukula, while the few weak bands
of loyal natives were driven into the bush by his well-armed cohorts,
all the enemies of the Kapuan firm would be confounded. “So long as our
consul has the backbone to hold out against the other two consuls,” he
said aloud, “under the treaty no action can be taken by the war-ships.
Kataafa, with nearly five thousand fighting men, can take Ukula and
establish solidly his claim to the kingship.”
Captain Scott shook hands with Klinger and the count. “This check I’m
giving you,” Klinger said insinuatingly, “is subject to recall if I
find you have not played square. You understand.”
Scott smiled sadly. “You see, count, what it is to have enemies who
constantly defame one’s character. Have I ever acted in any other way
but square with you?” he asked. The count shook his head.
“I haven’t examined the guns nor checked them over,” Klinger said by
way of explanation. “I hope they are as you represent.”
Scott bowed and walked quickly to the beach, where his boat and crew
were waiting.
The “fono” was breaking up. The natives, by villages, were marching
down to the beach; their weird chants could be heard on all sides.
Great war canoes, paddled by as many as forty warriors, were swiftly
launched, and sent across the water to the “Talofa,” where they ranged
alongside, tier upon tier. Kataafa, with half a dozen veteran chiefs,
dressed in white shirts and “lava-lavas,” their fly-flaps or fuis held
over their right shoulders, marched slowly down the street. The high
chief stopped at the steps of Klinger’s house. He now talked without
his talking man, but in Kapuan, and to Klinger.
“Kataafa has taken the advice of his white friends. They tell him now
there can be no war. Kataafa loves his people; he loves his enemies.”
As he spoke his left hand played nervously with a little golden cross
on a fine gold chain slung about his neck. “If he believed there would
be war he would go away. But the ‘Alii papalangi’[30] know best, from
their greater wisdom. Kataafa does not understand papalangi thoughts.
He understands only Kapuan. You tell him to go to Ukula and make
himself king in house of Laupepe, who is dead. Very well; Kataafa will
go, trusting that all you have said will be true.”
Klinger listened, greatly touched. All that he had told this honorable
old warrior Klinger believed would come true. No other contingency, he
thought, could possibly arise. Kataafa could march unopposed into Ukula
and make himself king. The English and Americans could not land their
men to oppose unless the Herzovinian consul also agreed to this action,
and Carlson had given his word to the count. There might possibly be a
few shots exchanged, and the foreign war-ships might feel called upon
to land guards to protect foreigners and their property, otherwise the
war would be only a skirmish. Then Kataafa, as king, could go to the
count or the consul and ask for the protection of the Herzovinian flag.
That would mean the annexation desired for so many years and always
prevented by the jealous English.
“If it comes out differently than I have told you,” he replied gravely,
“I shall be greatly surprised. I have told you exactly what I believe,
and have kept nothing back.”
Kataafa seemed satisfied. He smiled and bowed ceremoniously.
Several natives came suddenly down the road, holding up their hands and
shouting loudly:
“Papalangi!”
Klinger ran out into the roadway to get a clearer view. Several hundred
yards up the crowded thoroughfare, moving slowly through the native
groups, were three American naval men on horseback. They came straight
toward him; passed him without sign of recognition, but doffed their
caps in answer to Kataafa’s greeting and rode out upon the beach of
Saluafata.
Almost at the same instant Captain Scott, on board the “Talofa,” was
much perturbed at the sight of an English war-ship’s launch that had
suddenly appeared at the entrance to the harbor.
One of the riders on the beach produced a big red flag which he had
been carrying and began calmly waving it, regularly. Then another
flag of similar color was shown in the launch. The sailor, sitting
quietly on his horse, speedily sent a flag signal. Having finished,
he waited until the flag on the launch was waved in return. Then the
three horsemen rode leisurely along the beach, apparently but little
interested in the marked activity before their eyes.
Klinger and the count were dumbfounded. The high chief’s countenance
was greatly perplexed.
Klinger knew only too well the significance of that signal, and the old
warrior had made a shrewd guess at the message conveyed.
A single word from Klinger, and those three men might never return to
Ukula.
Klinger saw at once the great danger in which the Americans had put
themselves. He called loudly, “Fanua, Fanua.”
His native wife appeared, smiling and bowing gracefully. He spoke to
her in English, a language which Kataafa did not understand. “Go to
those papalangi,” he ordered huskily. “Tell them if they don’t ride
back, away from Saluafata, at once, I cannot be responsible for their
lives.” Fanua obeyed without question. Klinger watched her reach their
side and saw them stop and turn their horses’ heads--then, apparently,
calmly consider the message brought them. Many warriors had gathered;
their attitude seemed to Klinger to be growing every minute more
hostile toward the intruders.