Before the hour set for the trial Grief, accompanied by Peter Gee, won
access to Tui Tulifau. The king, surrounded by half a dozen chiefs, lay
on mats under the shade of the avocados in the palace compound. Early
as was the hour, palace maids were industriously serving squarefaces of
gin. The king was glad to see his old friend Davida, and regretful
that he had run foul of the new regulations. Beyond that he steadfastly
avoided discussion of the matter in hand. All protests of the
expropriated traders were washed away in proffers of gin. “Have a
drink,” was his invariable reply, though once he unbosomed himself
enough to say that Feathers of the Sun was a wonderful man. Never had
palace affairs been so prosperous. Never had there been so much money
in the treasury, nor so much gin in circulation. “Well pleased am I with
Fulualea,” he concluded. “Have a drink.”
“We've got to get out of this _pronto_,” Grief whispered to Peter Gee a
few minutes later, “or we'll be a pair of boiled owls. Also, I am to be
tried for arson, or heresy, or leprosy, or something, in a few minutes,
and I must control my wits.”
As they withdrew from the royal presence, Grief caught a glimpse of
Sepeli, the queen. She was peering out at her royal spouse and his
fellow tipplers, and the frown on her face gave Grief his cue. Whatever
was to be accomplished must be through her.
In another shady corner of the big compound Cornelius was holding court.
He had been at it early, for when Grief arrived the case of Willie Smee
was being settled. The entire royal army, save that portion in charge of
the seized vessels, was in attendance.
“Let the defendant stand up,” said Cornelius, “and receive the just and
merciful sentence of the Court for licentious and disgraceful conduct
unbecomin' a supercargo. The defendant says he has no money. Very well.
The Court regrets it has no calaboose. In lieu thereof, and in view
of the impoverished condition of the defendant, the Court fines said
defendant one white silk shirt of the same kind, make and quality at
present worn by defendant.”
Cornelius nodded to several of the soldiers, who led the supercargo away
behind an avocado tree. A minute later he emerged, minus the garment in
question, and sat down beside Grief.
“What have you been up to?” Grief asked.
“Blessed if I know. What crimes have you committed?”
“Next case,” said Cornelius in his most extra-legal tones. “David Grief,
defendant, stand up. The Court has considered the evidence in the case,
or cases, and renders the following judgment, to wit:--Shut up!” he
thundered at Grief, who had attempted to interrupt. “I tell you the
evidence has been considered, deeply considered. It is no wish of the
Court to lay additional hardship on the defendant, and the Court takes
this opportunity to warn the defendant that he is liable for contempt.
For open and wanton violation of harbour rules and regulations, breach
of quarantine, and disregard of shipping laws, his schooner, the
_Cantani_, is hereby declared confiscated to the Government of
Fitu-Iva, to be sold at public auction, ten days from date, with
all appurtenances, fittings, and cargo thereunto pertaining. For the
personal crimes of the defendant, consisting of violent and turbulent
conduct and notorious disregard of the laws of the realm, he is fined in
the sum of one hundred pounds sterling and fifteen cases of gin. I will
not ask you if you have anything to say. But will you pay? That is the
question.”
Grief shook his head.
“In the meantime,” Cornelius went on, “consider yourself a prisoner at
large. There is no calaboose in which to confine you. And finally, it
has come to the knowledge of the Court, that at an early hour of this
morning, the defendant did wilfully and deliberately send Kanakas in his
employ out on the reef to catch fish for breakfast. This is distinctly
an infringement of the rights of the fisherfolk of Fitu-Iva. Home
industries must be protected. This conduct of the defendant is severely
reprehended by the Court, and on any repetition of the offence the
offender and offenders, all and sundry, shall be immediately put to hard
labour on the improvement of the Broom Road. The court is dismissed.”
As they left the compound, Peter Gee nudged Grief to look where Tui
Tulifau reclined on the mats. The supercargo's shirt, stretched and
bulged, already encased the royal fat.