On a certain island in the Paumotu Group, known on the charts as Chain
Island, but called Anaa by the people themselves, lived a white man
named Martin Flemming, one of those restless wanderers who range the
Pacific in search of the fortune they always mean to gain, but which
never comes to them, except in some few instances--so few that they
might be counted on one's fingers.
Two years had come and gone since Flemming had landed on the island
with his wife, family, and two native servants, and settled down as a
resident trader at the large and populous village of Tuuhora, where he
soon gained the respect and confidence--if not the friendship--of the
Anaa people, one of the proudest, most self-reliant, and brave of any
of the Polynesian race, or their offshoots. For though he was a keen
business man, he was just and honest in all his transactions, never
erring, as so many traders do, on the side of mistaken generosity, but
yet evincing a certain amount of liberality when the occasion justified
it--and the natives knew that when he told them that tobacco, or
biscuit, or rice, or gunpowder had risen in price in Tahiti or New
Zealand, and that he would also be compelled to raise his charges, they
knew that his statement was true--that he was a man above trickery,
either in his business or his social relations with them, and would not
descend to a lie for the sake of gain.
Flemming, at this time, was about forty years of age; his wife, who
was an intelligent Hawaiian Islander, was ten years his junior, and the
mother of his three half-caste children--a boy of thirteen, another of
ten, and a girl of six. Such education as he could give them during
his continuous wanderings over the North and South Pacific had been but
scanty; for he was often away on trading cruises, and his wife, though
she could read and write, like all Hawaiian women, was not competent to
instruct her children, though in all other respects she was everything
that a mother should be, except, as Flemming would often tell her, she
was too indulgent and too ready to gratify their whims and fancies.
However, they were now not so much under her control, for soon after
coming to the island, he found that one of the three Marist Brothers
living at the mission was able to, and willing to give them a few hours'
instruction several times a week. For this, Flemming, who was really
anxious about his children's welfare, made a liberal payment to the
Mission, and the arrangement had worked very satisfactorily--Father
Billot, who was a good English scholar, giving them their lessons in
that language.
I must now make mention of the remaining persons constituting the
trader's household--the two servants--one a man about thirty years
of age, the other not more than eighteen or nineteen. They were both
natives of Arorai (Hurd Island), one of the Eingsmill Group, and
situated something less than three degrees south of the Equator.
They had both taken service with him on their own island six years
previously, and had followed his and his family's fortunes ever since,
for they were both devotedly attached to the children; and when, a year
after he had settled on their island, misfortune befell him through
the destruction of his trading station by fire, and he found himself a
ruined man, they refused to leave him, and declared they would work
for him without payment until he was again in a position to begin
trading--no matter how long it might be ere that took place.
For some months after the loss of all his property, Flemming worked
hard and lived meanly. Most fortunately for him, he had a very good
whaleboat, and night after night, and day after day, he and his two
faithful helpers, as long as the weather held fine, toiled at the
dangerous pursuit of shark-catching, cutting off the fins and tails, and
drying them in the sun, until finally he had secured over a ton's weight
of the ill-smelling commodity, for which he received £60 in cash from
the master of a Chinese-owned trading barque, which touched at the
island, and this amount enabled him to leave Arorai, and begin trading
elsewhere--in the great atoll of Butaritari, where owing to his
possessing a good boat, sturdy health, and great pluck and resolution,
his circumstances so mended that he came to look on the incident of the
fire as the best thing that could have happened.
In appearance these two men were like nearly all the people of the
Kingsmill Group--dark-skinned, strongly built, and with a certain
fierceness of visage, born of their warlike and quarrelsome nature, and
which never leaves them, even in their old age. The elder of the two,
whose native name was Binoké, but who had been given the nickname of
“Tommy Topsail-tie,” had this facial characteristic to a great degree,
and was, in addition, of a somewhat morbid and sullen disposition,
disliking all strangers. But he was yet the veriest slave to Flemming's
children, who tyrannised over him most mercilessly, for young as they
were, they knew that his savage heart had nothing in it but adoration
and affection for both them and their parents. Nobal, the younger man,
who also had a nickname--“Jack Waterwitch” (taken from a colonial
whaler in which he had once sailed) was of a more genial nature, and
had constituted himself the especial guardian and playmate of the little
girl Medora, who spoke his native tongue as well as himself; while Tommy
Topsail-tie was more attached, if it were possible, to Flemming's eldest
boy Robert, than to any other member of the family.
After two or three years' successful trading in the northern islands of
the Kingsmill Group, Flemming had sold out his trading interests very
satisfactorily, and, always eager to go further afield, had sailed for
the Paumotu Group, choosing Anaa as his home, for he thought he should
like the people, and do very well as a trader, for the island was but a
few days' sail from Tahiti in the Society Group, where there was always
a good market for his produce, and where he could replenish his stock of
trade goods from the great mercantile firm of Brander--in those days the
Whiteleys of the South and Eastern Pacific.
One afternoon, about six o'clock, when work at the trading station had
ceased for the day, and the store door had been shut and locked by Mrs.
Flemming, the trader was seated on his shady verandah, smoking a cigar
and listening to the prattle of his little daughter, when his two boys
raced up to him from the beach, and noisily asked him permission to take
the smallest of the boats (a ship's dinghy) and go fishing outside the
reef until the morning. They had just heard some natives crying out
that a vast shoal of _tau tau_--a large salmonlike fish, greatly prized
throughout the South Seas--had made their appearance, and already some
canoes were being got ready.
“Who is going with you, boys?” asked Flemming, looking at their
deeply-bronzed, healthy faces--so like his own, though his hair had now
begun to grizzle about his sunburnt temples.
“Jack and Tom, and two Anaa men,” they replied, “they sent us to ask you
if they could come. They have finished the new roof for the oil-shed,
and want to go very badly. Say 'yes,' father.”
“All right boys. You may go. Tell your mother to give you plenty to eat
to take with you--for it's only six o'clock, and I suppose you won't be
home till daylight.”
The delighted boys tore into the house to get their fishing tackle,
whilst their mother, telling them to make less clamour, filled an empty
box with biscuit, bread, and tinned meats enough for the party of
six, and in less than ten minutes they were off again, shouting their
goodbyes as they raced through the gate, followed by a native woman
carrying the heavy box of food.
Martin Flemming turned to his wife with a smile lighting up his somewhat
sombre face.
“We shall have a quiet house to-night, Kaiulani,” he said, calling her
by her Hawaiian name.
“Which will be a treat for us, Martin. Those boys really make more noise
every day. And do you know what they have done now?”
He shook his head.
“They have a live hawkbill turtle in their room--quite a large one,
for I could scarcely move it--and have painted its back in five or six
colours. And they feed it on live fish; the room smells horribly.”
Flemming laughed. “I thought I could smell fresh paint about the house
yesterday. Never mind, 'Lani. It won't hurt the turtle.”