“The thing is clear,” said Peter Gee, at a conference in Ieremia's
house. “Deasy has about gathered in all the coin. In the meantime he
keeps the king going on the gin he's captured, on our vessels. As soon
as he can maneuver it he'll take the cash and skin out on your craft or
mine.”
“He is a low fellow,” Ieremia declared, pausing in the polishing of his
spectacles. “He is a scoundrel and a blackguard. He should be struck by
a dead pig, by a particularly dead pig.”
“The very thing,” said Grief. “He shall be struck by a dead pig.
Ieremia, I should not be surprised if you were the man to strike him
with the dead pig. Be sure and select a particularly dead one. Tui
Tulifau is down at the boat house broaching a case of my Scotch. I'm
going up to the palace to work kitchen politics with the queen. In the
meantime you get a few things on your shelves from the store-room. I'll
lend you some, Hawkins. And you, Peter, see the German store. Start in
all of you, selling for paper. Remember, I'll back the losses. If
I'm not mistaken, in three days we'll have a national council or a
revolution. You, Ieremia, start messengers around the island to the
fishers and farmers, everywhere, even to the mountain goat-hunters. Tell
them to assemble at the palace three days from now.”
“But the soldiers,” Ieremia objected.
“I'll take care of them. They haven't been paid for two months. Besides,
Uiliami is the queen's brother. Don't have too much on your shelves at a
time. As soon as the soldiers show up with paper, stop selling.”
“Then will they burn the stores,” said Ieremia.
“Let them. King Tulifau will pay for it if they do.”
“Will he pay for my shirt?” Willie Smee demanded.
“That is purely a personal and private matter between you and Tui
Tulifau,” Grief answered.
“It's beginning to split up the back,” the supercargo lamented. “I
noticed that much this morning when he hadn't had it on ten minutes. It
cost me thirty shillings and I only wore it once.”
“Where shall I get a dead pig?” Ieremia asked.
“Kill one, of course,” said Grief. “Kill a small one.”
“A small one is worth ten shillings.”
“Then enter it in your ledger under operating expenses.” Grief paused a
moment. “If you want it particularly dead, it would be well to kill it
at once.”
V
“You have spoken well, Davida,” said Queen Sepeli. “This Fulualea has
brought a madness with him, and Tui Tulifau is drowned in gin. If he
does not grant the big council, I shall give him a beating. He is easy
to beat when he is in drink.”
She doubled up her fist, and such were her Amazonian proportions and the
determination in her face that Grief knew the council would be called.
So akin was the Fitu-Ivan tongue to the Samoan that he spoke it like a
native.
“And you, Uiliami,” he said, “have pointed out that the soldiers have
demanded coin and refused the paper Fulualea has offered them. Tell them
to take the paper and see that they be paid to-morrow.”
“Why trouble?” Uiliami objected. “The king remains happily drunk. There
is much money in the treasury. And I am content. In my house are two
cases of gin and much goods from Hawkins's store.”
“Excellent pig, O my brother!” Sepeli erupted. “Has not Davida spoken?
Have you no ears? When the gin and the goods in your house are gone, and
no more traders come with gin and goods, and Feathers of the Sun has run
away to Levuka with all the cash money of Fitu-Iva, what then will you
do? Cash money is silver and gold, but paper is only paper. I tell you
the people are grumbling. There is no fish in the palace. Yams and
sweet potatoes seem to have fled from the soil, for they come not. The
mountain dwellers have sent no wild goat in a week. Though Feathers of
the Sun compels the traders to buy copra at the old price, the people
sell not, for they will have none of the paper money. Only to-day have I
sent messengers to twenty houses. There are no eggs. Has Feathers of the
Sun put a blight upon the hens? I do not know. All I know is that there
are no eggs. Well it is that those who drink much eat little, else would
there be a palace famine. Tell your soldiers to receive their pay. Let
it be in his paper money.”
“And remember,” Grief warned, “though there be selling in the stores,
when the soldiers come with their paper it will be refused. And in three
days will be the council, and Feathers of the Sun will be as dead as a
dead pig.”