“_Te fanua, te fanua! te fanua umi, umi lava!_” (“Land, land! a long,
long land!”)
As we, the “watch below”--Niâbon, Tepi, and myself--heard Tematau's loud
cry, we sat up, and saw a long, dark line pencilled on the horizon right
ahead, which we knew was the great lonely atoll named Providence Island
on the charts, and called Ujilon by the natives of the North-Western
Pacific.
It was daylight of the sixth day out from Kusaie, and as I stood up to
get a better view of the land I was well satisfied.
“We have done well,” I said exultantly to Lucia, who was steering:
“three hundred and forty miles in five days--with a two-knot current
against us all the way!”
[Illustration: Saw a barque lying on the reef 182]
I did not know my way into Ujilon Lagoon, for I had never been there
before, so I now had some trouble in picking up one of the two passages
on the south side of the great atoll. At seven o'clock, just as we were
entering it, we saw a barque lying on the reef about half a mile away
to the northward. She was a good lump of a vessel--apparently of about
seven or eight hundred tons, and the remnants of some of her upper
canvas still fluttered to the breeze. We could discern no sign of life
about her, nor were any boats visible; but we had no time to examine
her just then, so sailed on across the lagoon, and, instead of dropping
anchor, ran gently on to the beach of a densely wooded island, for the
water was not only as smooth as glass, but very deep, the “fall” from
the edge of the beach being very steep.
In an hour we had lightened the boat sufficiently to float her along a
narrow waterway, which wound a sinuous course through the solid coral
rock into a little basin or natural dock, where we could board her at
either low or high water, without wetting our feet, though she had a
clear fathom of water under her keel.
The lagoon seemed alive with large and small fish--none of which, Niâbon
said, were poisonous, like two thirds of those of the Marshall
Island atolls, and the beaches and sand-flats were covered with small
golden-winged plover, who displayed not the slightest fear of our
presence, letting us approach them within a few yards, then rising and
settling down again. From where we were we could see but seven of the
chain of fifteen islands which comprised the atoll; all of these were
thickly covered with coco palms, bearing an enormous crop of nuts, and
here and there groves of jack-fruit and pandanus broke the monotonous
beauty of the palms by their diversity of foliage.
No traces of natives were visible, though I knew that there were a
few--about thirty all told--for the redoubtable Captain Bully Hayes, who
claimed Ujilon as his own, and whose brig was the first ship to enter
the lagoon, had I knew established friendly intercourse with them. Two
years before, I had met the famous captain at Anchorite's Islands--to
the north of the Admiralty Group--when he had given me a description of
Ujilon and its marvellous fertility, and had tried to induce me to
go there with him with a gang of natives, and make oil for him. But
although he made me a most liberal offer--he was a most delightful man
to talk to, was the “South Sea pirate”--I did not trust him well enough,
despite his merry, laughing blue eyes, jovial voice and handsome face,
for he was a man who could be all things to all men; and the blue eyes
sometimes went black, and the smooth, shapely hand that was for ever
stroking the long flowing beard, liked too well to feel a trigger in the
crook of its forefinger. So I laughingly declined his offer--even when,
as an extra inducement, he pointed out to me a very handsome young
Marshall Island girl, who would do the station honours for me at Ujilon.
“All right, Mr. Sherry,” he said, “please yourself;” and then over
another bottle of wine, he gave me some further particulars about the
great atoll, and told me of how it had taken him two months to get into
communication with the few inhabitants; and of the particular island on
which their village was concealed amid a dense grove of pandanus palms.
But that was two years ago, and I had forgotten much that he had told
me. However, as I intended to remain at Ujilon for two or three days,
it was likely that we might come across them--they were very quiet and
inoffensive people, so there was no danger to be apprehended from a
meeting.
By noon we had our temporary camp made comfortable, and were having
dinner when five natives made their appearance--three men and two
women--coming towards us in a canoe. They landed without the slightest
hesitation, and sat down with us; but we found that they spoke the
Marshall Island dialect, which none of us but Niâbon could speak,
and she but slightly. However, we managed to worry along, and to our
surprise learned that Hayes had been at the island in his famous brig,
the _Leonora_, only a month before, and that for a year and six months
previously, seventy Line Island natives had been working on the islands
under the supervision of a white man, making oil for the captain, but
most of them, and the white man as well, had left the atoll in the brig,
for Hayes had been so well pleased with the result of their work that he
invited forty of the seventy to come on board and go with him to Ponapé,
in the Carolines, for a month's recreation and “feasting” on that
beautiful island.
[Illustration: He had sailed 188]
So with forty of his sturdy Line Islanders, and seven hundred barrels
of coco-nut oil, he had sailed; and now, said our five friends, he would
soon be back--perhaps in two days--perhaps in ten, or twenty, or more,
for how could one tell what the winds would be? He was a good man, was
the captain, but hot and sudden in his anger, over-fond of women who
were good to look at, and cruel to those who sought to cross his desire;
but generous--always generous--and kind to those who were weak and
ill, giving them good medicine and rich food; tins of the red rich fish
called _samani_ which came from his own country, and biscuit and bread
such as white men eat. Ah, he was a good man was “Puli Ese” (Bully
Hayes).
“Ask them about the wretched ship on the reef,” I said to Niâbon,
repeating the first question I had tried to put to them, but which they
did not answer, so eager were they to tell us about Captain Hayes and
themselves; “ask them all about her--when did she run ashore, and where
are the crew?”
Ah, the ship, the great ship! they replied. She had run up on the reef
one night four moons ago, when the sky was bright and clear, and the
wind blew strongly; and when in the morning they discerned her from the
village, the white man had two boats manned to go to her assistance, but
as the boats approached, two cannons fired heavy balls at them from the
deck of the ship; and although the white man (Hayes's trader) tied
his handkerchief to an oar and held it upright, the people on the ship
continued to fire on the boats with the big cannons, and with muskets,
and then, when one man was hit by a bullet and died quickly, the white
man cursed those on the ship for fools, and turned the boats shoreward
again, saying that those on board could perish before he would try to
help them again. By sunset three boats, filled with men, had left the
ship and sailed to the south. In the morning the white man (whom I knew
from their description of him to be a well-known and decent South Sea
trader named Harry Gardiner) boarded the ship and began to remove all
that was of value on shore. Her hold was filled with all sorts of goods
in barrels and cases, and when “Puli Ese” came, three months later, he
was well pleased, not only for the seven hundred barrels of oil, but
with the many things that had been gotten from the wrecked ship.
We promised our new friends to come up to their village--where they and
about twenty of their fellow islanders lived with the remainder of Bully
Hayes's Line Island contingent--on the following day, and sent them away
with a few trifling presents. As they said they could walk back, and I
wanted to have a look at the wreck, they cheerfully agreed to let their
canoe remain with us.
About four in the afternoon, as the heat of the sun began to relax, I
determined to set out in the canoe. Tematau and Tepi had gone across to
the weather side of the island with my gun to shoot plover and frigate
birds, of which latter, so the natives had told us, there were great
numbers to be found on the high trees to windward. Lucia and Niâbon were
resting in the shade, but the latter, when she saw me pushing the canoe
into the water, asked me to let her come also.
“Yes, of course; and you too, Lucia. Won't you come as well?” I said.
“No, Jim. I feel very lazy, and I'm always so afraid of canoes,” she
said with a smile, “and do be careful and not be capsized; look at all
those horrid sharks swimming about--I can see nearly twenty of them from
where I am sitting.”
Both Niâbon and I laughed at her fears--the sharks were not man-eaters,
as we knew by their black-tipped fins, though the species were dangerous
when bad weather made the fish on which they preyed scarce; then they
became vicious and daring enough, and would at times actually tear the
oars out of the hands of a boat's crew. However, Lucia would not come,
saying she would await the return of the men and pluck the plover which
they were sure to bring back with them.
“Very well, Lucia,” I said, “we'll leave you to yourself. I _must_ have
a look at the barque, and find out her name. Wrecks have always had an
attraction for me; and, besides that, I want to get a sheet or two of
copper to nail over our stem, which was badly hurt when we ran ashore in
Apamama Lagoon.”
In another minute or two Niabon and I started, she sitting for'ard and I
aft. The wind had died away, and the surface of the lagoon was as smooth
as glass, and, through the crystal-clear water, we could discern the
glories of the gorgeously-hued coral forest below. Is there such another
sight in all the world as is revealed when you look down upon the bottom
of a South Sea atoll.
*****
Ah, no, there cannot be! And here as I write, there is before me the
cold German Ocean, heaving and tumbling; grey, grim, and sullen under a
dulled and leaden sky, and snowflakes beat and beat incessantly upon
the opened windows of my room. Out upon the moor there is a flock of
snow-white seagulls, driven to land by the wild weather, and as I gaze
at them, fluttering to and fro, their presence seems to creep into my
heart, and their wild, piping notes to say, “You will go back, you will
go back, and see some of us again; not here, under cold skies, but where
the bright sun for ever shines upon a sea of deepest blue.”
*****
For half an hour or more we paddled in silence over the smooth waters
of that sweet lagoon, the bow of the canoe kept steadily on towards the
wrecked barque; and as I looked at the graceful figure of my companion,
with her dark, glossy hair flowing over her back and swaying to and
fro with every stroke, and saw the graceful poise of her head, and the
backward sweep of her two little hands as she plunged her paddle into
the water, and withdrew it swiftly and noiselessly, I felt that I could
not, I must not delay in asking her to be my wife. Not that her physical
beauty had so wrought upon my feelings--I was above that, I thank God,
and a level brain--but because I felt that I loved her, ay, honestly
_loved_ her, and that she was a good and true woman, and our union would
be a happy one.
It took us much longer than we anticipated in coming up to the stranded
ship, or rather to the inside edge of the reef on which she lay, high
and dry, half a mile further to seaward. Taking my hammer and a blunt
chisel--to prize off a sheet of copper--we made the canoe fast to a
coral boulder, and set off across the reef, which gave forth a
strong but sickly odour caused by the heat of the sun acting on the
many-coloured and many-shaped marine organisms and living coral.
Niâbon, whose feet were protected by strong _takka_ (sandals woven of
coco-nut fibre), stepped lightly and swiftly on before me; I with my
heavy boots crushing into the brittle, delicate, and sponge-like coral,
startling from their sunbaths hundreds of black and orange-banded
sea-snakes--reptiles whose bite is as deadly as that of a rattlesnake,
but which hastened out of our way almost as soon as they heard our
footsteps. Here and there we had to turn aside to avoid deep pools, some
of which, though not more than ten fathoms in width, were as blue as the
ocean beyond, their rocky walls starting sheer up from their bases to
the crust of the reef.
[Illustration: At last we reached the ship 194]
At last we reached the ship, and stood under her bowsprit. She was
standing almost upright, wedged in tightly between three huge boulders,
one on her port, and two on her starboard side, and I saw that she had
struck with great violence, for just abreast of her foremast there was a
jagged hole through which we could see into her lower hold. The natives
had told us that there had been an unusually high tide when she ran
ashore, and had it not been for her bringing up against the boulders,
she might have torn her way over the reef into the lagoon, as she was
under a strong press of sail, and the sea was smooth, and the stars
shining brightly. Most of her copper had been stripped off by Hayes, but
later on I found all I wanted by crawling under the bilge, and prizing
off a few undamaged sheets.
“Let us find out her name before we go on board,” I said to my
companion. “She's a foreigner, I'm sure.”
Walking round to her stern we looked up and saw her name, _Agostino
Rombo, Livorno_, painted in white letters.
“Ah, I thought she was a foreigner, Niabon. I fancy we shall find a
strong smell of garlic as soon as we get on deck.”
Turning up along the port side, we soon found an easy way of getting on
board, for just abreast of the mainmast Hayes's Chinese carpenters had
cut down the main deck from the water-ways to the bilge, so as to give
free access to the upper and lower holds.
We first examined the lower hold, which contained about two hundred tons
of New Caledonian nickel ore, and which, valuable as it was, Hayes had
not troubled about removing. In the 'tween deck there was nothing to
show of what the main portion of her cargo had consisted--everything had
been removed, and only great piles of dunnage remained, and I came to
the conclusion that the _Agostino Rombo_ of Leghorn had been bound from
some Australian port to China with a general cargo, when her incapable
skipper ran her ashore--to Bully Hayes's satisfaction and benefit.
Ascending from the dark and silent 'tween decks, where our footsteps and
voices echoed and re-echoed as though we were walking and speaking in
some mountain cavern, we ascended to the main deck into the fresh, sweet
daylight, though the sun was now low down on the western sky, and the
first thing that attracted our attention was a lengthy notice on the
mainmast, carefully and neatly painted on a sheet of copper. And as I
read it, I could but laugh at Captain Hayes's natural American business
instincts, combined with his usual humorous mendacity--
“Notice to Wrecking Parties.
“I, William Henry Hayes, master and owner of the brig _Leonora_, of
Shanghai, hereby notify all and sundry that the barque _Agostino Rombo_,
of Leghorn, as she now lies on this reef, has been purchased by me from
Captain Pasquale Lucchesi, and any person attempting to remove any of
her deck-houses, spars, anchors, or cables, or certain nickel ore in
the lower hold, are liable to be indicted for piracy. But all anchors,
cables, and ground tackle generally may be removed on payment of 250
dols. to my native agent on this island.”
From the main deck we ascended to the poop, and went below into the
now darkening cabin, which we found was gutted of everything of value,
except the captain's and officers' bedding, which had been tossed aside
by Hayes and his crew, and which even the natives of Ujilon had regarded
as too worthless to take away, though many a poor sailor man, shivering
in northern seas, would have clutched at them as eagerly as a Jew
pawnbroker would clutch at a necklace of pearls or a diamond-set tiara.
The panelling of the main cabin was painted in white and gold, and
presented a very handsome appearance, and on the door of every stateroom
was an exceedingly well-painted picture of some saint renowned in
history--evidently the owners of the _Agostino Rombo_ were of pious
minds. Underneath one of these pictures, that of St. Margaret of
Hungary, was scribbled in pencil, “Maggie is my fancy. Frank Hussey,
mate brig _Leonora_.”
I scratched out the ribald words with my knife, and then we went up
through the companion to the poop, and looked along the deserted deck,
whose once white planking was now cracking and discolouring under the
fierce rays of the torrid sun, to which it had been exposed for four
months.
We sat down together on a seat, which was placed for-ard of the
skylight, and gazed at the lofty masts and spars, which, denuded of all
their running gear, stood out stark, grim, and mournful against the rays
of a declining sun. On the fore-topgallant yard a frigate bird and his
mate stood, oblivious of our presence, and looking shoreward at the
long, long line of verdure clothing the islets four miles away.
“Simi,” said Niâbon, clasping her little brown hands together at the
back of her head, and leaning against the skylight, “we must return to
the canoe ere the tide riseth, for, see, the sun is low down, and Lucia
will think that some harm hath befallen us if we delay.”
She spoke in Samoan, the language she generally used when we were alone,
for she could express herself better in it even than in English, so she
said, though both Lucia and myself had often told her, not banteringly,
that her English was sweet to hear.
“Heed not the sinking sun, Niâbon,” I replied, in the same language,
“the tide will not yet cover the reef for an hour or more, and the night
will be bright and clear.... Niâbon, turn thy face to me.”
I took her hand and drew her closer to me.
“Niâbon, I love thee. I have loved thee since the time when thou first
saidst to me, 'Shall I give thee sleep?' And for ever since hast thou
been in my mind. See, I have loved no other woman as I love thee, and it
is my heart's desire to make thee my wife.”
She drew herself away from me with blazing eyes.
“Thy wife, thy wife! Simi, what madness is this? Hast thou no eyes to
see? Is thy mind so dull that thou dost not know that Lucia hath loved
thee, and that even at this moment her heart acheth for thy return. Dost
thou not _know?_”
“I care not for her but as a friend,” I said hotly; “'tis thee alone I
desire. Thou art always in my mind, and I will be good and true to thee,
Niâbon; for I love thee well. Be my wife. Together thee and I----”
The angry light in her eyes died out, and she placed her cheek to mine.
“Simi, I care more for thee than for any one in the world, save Lucia,
and Lucia hath all my heart and all my love. And she so loves thee,
Simi--she so loves thee that it is her heart's desire to be thy wife....
Come, dear friend, let us return and forget all but that Lucia awaits.”
She passed her hand softly over my face, pressed her lips to my
forehead, and then I followed her down from the silent deck on to the
reef, and thence onwards to the canoe.