It was in Steinberger's time [Colonel Steinberger, who in 1874 succeeded
in forming a government in Samoa]. A trader had come up to Apia in his
boat from the end of Savaii, the largest of the Samoan Group, and was on
his way home again, when the falling tide caused him to stop awhile at
Mulinu'u Point, about two miles from Apia. Here he designed to smoke and
talk, and drink kava at the great camp with some hospitable native
acquaintances, during the rising of the water. Soon he was taking his
ease on a soft mat, watching the bevy of AUA LUMA [The local girls] making
a bowl of kava.
Now this trader lived at Falealupo, at the extreme westerly end of
Savaii; but the Samoans, by reason of its isolation and extremity, have
for ages called it by another name--an unprintable one--and so some of
the people present began to jest with the trader for living in such a
place. He fell in with their humour, and said that if those present
would find for him a wife, a girl unseared by the breath of scandal, he
would leave Falealupo for Safune, where he had bought land.
"Malie!" said an old dame, with one eye and white hair, "the
PAPALAGI [foreigner] is inspired to speak wisdom to-night; for at Safune
grow the sweetest nuts and the biggest taro and bread-fruit; and lo! here
among the kava-chewers is a young maid from Safune--mine own
grand-daughter Salome. And against her name can no one in Samoa laugh in
the hollow of his hand," and the old creature, amid laughter and cries of
ISA! E LE MA LE LO MATUA (The old woman is without shame), crept over to
the trader, and, with one skinny hand on his knee, gazed steadily into his
face with her one eye.
* * * * *
The trader looked at the girl--at Salome. She had, at her grandmother's
speech, turned her head aside, and taking the "chaw" of kava-root from
her pretty mouth, dissolved into shame-faced tears. The trader was a
man of quick perceptions, and he made up his mind to do in earnest what
he had said in jest--this because of the tears of Salome. He quickly
whispered to the old woman, "Come to the boat before the full of the
tide, and we will talk."
When the kava was ready for drinking the others present had forgotten
all about the old woman and Salome, who had both crept away unobserved,
and an hour or two was passed in merriment, for the trader was a man
well liked. Then, when he rose and said TO FA, [good-bye] they begged him
not to attempt to pass down in his boat inside the reef, as he was sure to
be fired upon, for how were their people to tell a friend from an enemy in
the black night? But the white man smiled, and said his boat was too
heavily laden to face the ocean swell. So they bade him TO FA, and called
out MANUIA OE! [Bless you!] as he lifted the door of thatch and went.
* * * * *
The old woman awaited him, holding the girl by the hand. On the ground
lay a basket strongly tied up. Salome still wept, but the old woman
angrily bade her cease and enter the boat, which the crew had now
pushed bow-on to the beach. The old woman lifted the basket and
carefully put it on board.
"Be sure," she said to the crew, "not to sit on it for it is very ripe
bread-fruit that I am taking to my people in Manono."
"Give them here to me," said the trader, and he put the basket in the
stern out of the way. The old woman came aft, too, and crouched at his
feet and smoked a SULUI [a cigarette rolled in dried banana leaf]. The
cool land-breeze freshened as the sail was hoisted, and then
the crew besought the trader not to run down inside the reef. Bullets,
they said, if fired in plenty, always hit something, and the sea was
fairly smooth outside the reef. And old Lupetea grasped his hand and
muttered in his ear, "For the sake of this my little daughter go
outside. See, now, I am old, and to lie when so near death as I am is
foolish. Be warned by me and be wise; sail out into the ocean, and at
daylight we shall be at Salua in Manono. Then thou canst set my feet on
the shore--I and the basket. But the girl shall go with thee. Thou
canst marry her, if that be to thy mind, in the fashion of the
PAPALAGI, or take her FA'A SAMOA [Samoan fashion]. Thus will I keep faith
with thee. If the girl be false, her neck is but little and thy fingers
strong."
Now the trader thought in this wise: "This is well for me, for if I get
the girl away thus quietly from all her relations I shall save much in
presents," and his heart rejoiced, for although not mean he was a
careful man. So he steered his boat seaward, between the seething surf
that boiled and hissed on both sides of the boat passage.
* * * * *
As the boat sailed past the misty line of cloud-capped Upolu, the
trader lifted the girl up beside him and spoke to her. She was not
afraid of him, she said, for many had told her he was a good man, and
not an ULA VALE (scamp), but she wept because now, save her old
grandmother, all her kinsfolk were dead. Even but a day and a half ago
her one brother was killed with her cousin. They were strong men, but
the bullets were swift, and so they died. And their heads had been
shown at Matautu. For that she had grieved and wept and eaten nothing,
and the world was cold and dark to her.
"Poor little devil!" said the trader to himself--"hungry." Then he
opened a locker and found a tin of sardines. Not a scrap of biscuit.
There was plenty of biscuit, though, in the boat, in fifty-pound tins,
but on these mats were spread, where-on his crew were sleeping. He was
about to rouse them when he remembered the old dame's basket of ripe
bread-fruit. He laughed and looked at her. She, too, slept, coiled up
at his feet. But first he opened the sardines and placed them beside
the girl, and motioned her to steer. Her eyes gleamed like diamonds in
the darkness as she answered his glance, and her soft fingers grasped
the tiller. Very quickly, then, he felt among the packages aft till he
came to the basket.
A quick stroke of his knife cut the cinnet that lashed the sides
together. He felt inside. "Only two, after all, but big ones, and no
mistake. Wrapped in cloth, too! I wonder--Hell and Furies! what's
this?"--as his fingers came in contact with something that felt like a
human eye. Drawing his hand quickly back, he fumbled in his pockets for
a match, and struck it. Bread-fruit! No. Two heads with closed eyes and
livid lips blue with the pallor of death, showing their white teeth.
And Salome covered her face and slid down in the bottom of the boat
again, and wept afresh for her cousin and brother, and the boat came up
in the wind, but no one awoke.
* * * * *
The trader was angry. But after he had tied up the basket again he put
the boat on her course once more and called to the girl. She crept
close to him and nestled under his overcoat, for the morning air came
across the sea from the dew-laden forests, and she was chilled. Then
she told the story of how her granddam had begged the heads from those
of Malietoa's troops who had taken them at Matautu, and then gone to
the camp at Mulinu'u in the hope of getting a passage in some boat to
Manono, her country, where she would fain bury them. And that night he
had come, and old Lupetea had rejoiced, and sworn her to secrecy about
the heads in the basket. And that also was why Lupetea was afraid of
the boat going down inside the passage, for there were many enemies to
be met with, and they would have shot old Lupetea because she was of
Manono. That was all. Then she ate the sardines, and, leaning her head
against the trader's bosom, fell asleep.
* * * * *
As the first note of the great grey pigeon sounded the dawn, the
trader's boat sailed softly up to the Salua beach, and old Lupetea
rose, and, bidding the crew good-bye, and calling down blessings on the
head of the good and clever white man, as she rubbed his and the girl's
noses against her own, she grasped her Basket of Bread-fruit and went
ashore. Then the trader, with Salome nestling to his side, sailed out
again into the ocean towards his home.