_Vailima_, _October_ 28_th_, 1892.
MY DEAR COLVIN,—This is very late to begin the monthly budget, but I have
a good excuse this time, for I have had a very annoying fever with
symptoms of sore arm, and in the midst of it a very annoying piece of
business which suffered no delay or idleness. . . . The consequence of
all this was that my fever got very much worse and your letter has not
been hitherto written. But, my dear fellow, do compare these little
larky fevers with the fine, healthy, prostrating colds of the dear old
dead days at home. Here was I, in the middle of a pretty bad one, and I
was able to put it in my pocket, and go down day after day, and attend to
and put my strength into this beastly business. Do you see me doing that
with a catarrh? And if I had done so, what would have been the result?
Last night, about four o’clock, Belle and I set off to Apia, whither my
mother had preceded us. She was at the Mission; we went to Haggard’s.
There we had to wait the most unconscionable time for dinner. I do not
wish to speak lightly of the Amanuensis, who is unavoidably present, but
I may at least say for myself that I was as cross as two sticks. Dinner
came at last, we had the tinned soup which is usually the _pièce de
résistance_ in the halls of Haggard, and we pitched into it. Followed an
excellent salad of tomatoes and cray-fish, a good Indian curry, a tender
joint of beef, a dish of pigeons, a pudding, cheese and coffee. I was so
over-eaten after this ‘hunger and burst’ that I could scarcely move; and
it was my sad fate that night in the character of the local author to
eloquute before the public—‘Mr. Stevenson will read a selection from his
own works’—a degrading picture. I had determined to read them the
account of the hurricane; I do not know if I told you that my book has
never turned up here, or rather only one copy has, and that in the
unfriendly hands of —. It has therefore only been seen by enemies; and
this combination of mystery and evil report has been greatly envenomed by
some ill-judged newspaper articles from the States. Altogether this
specimen was listened to with a good deal of uncomfortable expectation on
the part of the Germans, and when it was over was applauded with
unmistakable relief. The public hall where these revels came off seems
to be unlucky for me; I never go there but to some stone-breaking job.
Last time it was the public meeting of which I must have written you;
this time it was this uneasy but not on the whole unsuccessful
experiment. Belle, my mother, and I rode home about midnight in a fine
display of lightning and witch-fires. My mother is absent, so that I may
dare to say that she struck me as voluble. The Amanuensis did not strike
me the same way; she was probably thinking, but it was really rather a
weird business, and I saw what I have never seen before, the witch-fires
gathered into little bright blue points almost as bright as a
night-light.
* * * * *
_Saturday_.
This is the day that should bring your letter; it is gray and cloudy and
windless; thunder rolls in the mountain; it is a quarter past six, and I
am alone, sir, alone in this workman’s house, Belle and Lloyd having been
down all yesterday to meet the steamer; they were scarce gone with most
of the horses and all the saddles, than there began a perfect picnic of
the sick and maim; Iopu with a bad foot, Faauma with a bad shoulder,
Fanny with yellow spots. It was at first proposed to carry all these to
the doctor, particularly Faauma, whose shoulder bore an appearance of
erysipelas, that sent the amateur below. No horses, no saddle. Now I
had my horse and I could borrow Lafaele’s saddle; and if I went alone I
could do a job that had long been waiting; and that was to interview the
doctor on another matter. Off I set in a hazy moonlight night; windless,
like to-day; the thunder rolling in the mountain, as to-day; in the still
groves, these little mushroom lamps glowing blue and steady, singly or in
pairs. Well, I had my interview, said everything as I had meant, and
with just the result I hoped for. The doctor and I drank beer together
and discussed German literature until nine, and we parted the best of
friends. I got home to a silent house of sleepers, only Fanny awaiting
me; we talked awhile, in whispers, on the interview; then, I got a
lantern and went across to the workman’s house, now empty and silent,
myself sole occupant. So to bed, prodigious tired but mighty content
with my night’s work, and to-day, with a headache and a chill, have
written you this page, while my new novel waits. Of this I will tell you
nothing, except the various names under consideration. First, it ought
to be called—but of course that is impossible—
_Braxfield_.
Then it _is_ to be called either
_Weir of Hermiston_,
_The Lord-Justice Clerk_,
_The Two Kirsties of the Cauldstaneslap_,
or
_Four Black Brothers_.
Characters:
Adam Weir, Lord-Justice Clerk, called Lord Hermiston.
Archie, his son.
Aunt Kirstie Elliott, his housekeeper at Hermiston.
Elliott of the Cauldstaneslap, her brother.
Kirstie Elliott, his daughter.
Jim, Gib, Hob & Dandie—his sons.
Patrick Innes, a young advocate.
The Lord-Justice General.
Scene, about Hermiston in the Lammermuirs and in Edinburgh. Temp. 1812.
So you see you are to have another holiday from copra! The rain begins
softly on the iron roof, and I will do the reverse and—dry up.
* * * * *
_Sunday_.
Yours with the diplomatic private opinion received. It is just what I
should have supposed. _Ça m’est bien égal_.—The name is to be
_The Lord-Justice Clerk_.
None others are genuine. Unless it be
_Lord-Justice Clerk Hermiston_.
* * * * *
_Nov._ 2_nd_.
On Saturday we expected Captain Morse of the Alameda to come up to lunch,
and on Friday with genuine South Sea hospitality had a pig killed. On
the Saturday morning no pig. Some of the boys seemed to give a doubtful
account of themselves; our next neighbour below in the wood is a bad
fellow and very intimate with some of our boys, for whom his confounded
house is like a fly-paper for flies. To add to all this, there was on
the Saturday a great public presentation of food to the King and
Parliament men, an occasion on which it is almost dignified for a Samoan
to steal anything, and entirely dignified for him to steal a pig.
(The Amanuensis went to the _talolo_, as it is called, and saw something
so very pleasing she begs to interrupt the letter to tell it. The
different villagers came in in bands—led by the maid of the village,
followed by the young warriors. It was a very fine sight, for some three
thousand people are said to have assembled. The men wore nothing but
magnificent head-dresses and a bunch of leaves, and were oiled and
glistening in the sunlight. One band had no maid but was led by a tiny
child of about five—a serious little creature clad in a ribbon of grass
and a fine head-dress, who skipped with elaborate leaps in front of the
warriors, like a little kid leading a band of lions. A.M.)
The A.M. being done, I go on again. All this made it very possible that
even if none of our boys had stolen the pig, some of them might know the
thief. Besides, the theft, as it was a theft of meat prepared for a
guest, had something of the nature of an insult, and ‘my face,’ in native
phrase, ‘was ashamed.’ Accordingly, we determined to hold a bed of
justice. It was done last night after dinner. I sat at the head of the
table, Graham on my right hand, Henry Simelé at my left, Lloyd behind
him. The house company sat on the floor around the walls—twelve all
told. I am described as looking as like Braxfield as I could manage with
my appearance; Graham, who is of a severe countenance, looked like
Rhadamanthus; Lloyd was hideous to the view; and Simelé had all the fine
solemnity of a Samoan chief. The proceedings opened by my delivering a
Samoan prayer, which may be translated thus—‘Our God, look down upon us
and shine into our hearts. Help us to be far from falsehood so that each
one of us may stand before Thy Face in his integrity.’—Then, beginning
with Simelé, every one came up to the table, laid his hand on the Bible,
and repeated clause by clause after me the following oath—I fear it may
sound even comic in English, but it is a very pretty piece of Samoan, and
struck direct at the most lively superstitions of the race. ‘This is the
Holy Bible here that I am touching. Behold me, O God! If I know who it
was that took away the pig, or the place to which it was taken, or have
heard anything relating to it, and shall not declare the same—be made an
end of by God this life of mine!’ They all took it with so much
seriousness and firmness that (as Graham said) if they were not innocent
they would make invaluable witnesses. I was so far impressed by their
bearing that I went no further, and the funny and yet strangely solemn
scene came to an end.
* * * * *
_Sunday_, _No._ 6th.
Here is a long story to go back upon, and I wonder if I have either time
or patience for the task?
Wednesday I had a great idea of match-making, and proposed to Henry that
Faalé would make a good wife for him. I wish I had put this down when it
was fresher in my mind, it was so interesting an interview. My gentleman
would not tell if I were on or not. ‘I do not know yet; I will tell you
next week. May I tell the sister of my father? No, better not, tell her
when it is done.’—‘But will not your family be angry if you marry without
asking them?’—‘My village? What does my village want? Mats!’ I said I
thought the girl would grow up to have a great deal of sense, and my
gentleman flew out upon me; she had sense now, he said.
Thursday, we were startled by the note of guns, and presently after heard
it was an English war ship. Graham and I set off at once, and as soon as
we met any townsfolk they began crying to me that I was to be arrested.
It was the _Vossische Zeitung_ article which had been quoted in a paper.
Went on board and saw Captain Bourke; he did not even know—not even
guess—why he was here; having been sent off by cablegram from Auckland.
It is hoped the same ship that takes this off Europewards may bring his
orders and our news. But which is it to be? Heads or tails? If it is
to be German, I hope they will deport me; I should prefer it so; I do not
think that I could bear a German officialdom, and should probably have to
leave _sponte mea_, which is only less picturesque and more expensive.
* * * * *
8_th_.
Mail day. All well, not yet put in prison, whatever may be in store for
me. No time even to sign this lame letter.