FIRST FRUITS
Aunt Jannet Harvey's ideas of missionary work and methods differed
essentially from Kenneth Blair's.
She wanted to be up and doing all the time. She was anxious for
visible fruit before the seed was fairly into the ground. In spite of
the practical common-sense which she brought as a rule to the ordinary
affairs of life, she was, in this matter, like a child with its first
garden, in danger of retarding by her very anxiety for progress. She
was inclined to be for ever hauling up the tiny shoots to see how the
roots were getting on. Or, to be more exact still, she was like a
child placed suddenly in charge of an overgrown patch with instructions
to reduce it to order. And Aunt Jannet's ideas ran to such strenuous
loppings and bindings and weedings, that the timid brown women and
round-faced, pot-bellied youngsters fled, white-eyed and panting,
whenever they caught sight of her.
This greatly distressed the good lady, and served only to confirm her
views as to the urgent necessity for prompt and radical measures, just
as flight from a school-board officer but serves to accentuate the
chase.
She wanted the women and children clothed and taught and transformed
into the outward semblance of civilised beings at once. She wanted a
church built, and a school. She wanted to teach the women sewing and
decency, and the children their letters and manners.
And Blair, with his wider knowledge and experience, had to put his foot
down on every suggestion she made, and, gently and good-humouredly as
he tried to do it since he knew the warm heart that was at the bottom
of it all, found himself in constant collision with her.
"Example first, Aunt Jannet," was his constant text, "then precept.
It's not the slightest use thinking of a church or a school yet.
They'll come all right when we're ready for them. And, really, you
must not try to dress any of those women and children again. You'll
kill them."
"But they are so--so terribly naked, Kenneth."
"Of course they are, and so they have been for thousands of years,
their forbears at all events, and you might just as well begin giving
them poison as insist on clothing them. If you want to kill them,
clothe them. If you want them to live, just let them go as they are."
"But the men----"
"Now you just leave the men to us. If you good ladies will just keep
on at your own proper work, and let these big brown children watch you
and see the pleasant results, you will be doing the very best thing
possible for them. Make friends with them, pick up all the words you
can lay hold of, and, in fact, get in touch with them all round as
quickly as possible. But we must lead them; we can't drive them."
His own example was an inspiration to them all. Evans and Stuart
seconded him loyally, and by degrees the ladies, who one and all, Jean
included, sympathised considerably with Aunt Jannet in her not
unnatural discrimination in favour of clothing, desisted from their
well-meant efforts and grew accustomed to the scant attire of their
brown friends.
They had no lack of personal cleanliness to combat, for which "Thank
goodness!" said Aunt Jannet more than once. "If they let you see
plenty of skin, it is at all events clean skin. If they'd stop rubbing
themselves all over with that nasty rotten coco-nut oil and wear some
decent clothes, I wouldn't have a fault to find with them--except in
their eating and a few other things."
The mission-settlement lay on the left bank of the little river which
ran through the spear of white sand at the head of the bay. On the
other side of the river the mountains where Ra'a lived rolled up,
shoulder on shoulder, till the farther ones were lost to sight. Behind
the mission the ground lay level for a space, where the valley came
down to the sea, and here were masses of coco-palms and a great tangle
of undergrowth, and farther up, past the village, were the disputed
taro fields, and the yam and banana plantations.
On the mission side of the river, behind the level lands, another great
hill flung one rough protecting arm into the sea a quarter of a mile
beyond the houses. The great ridge, full of cracks and cavities, as
though it had broken in its fall, shot right into the lagoon, and the
barrier reef started from its outermost point. On the other side the
great waves roared everlastingly up a white shell beach, but landing
there was impossible, as no boat built by man could survive the tumult
of the surf.
This was the island bathing-place, and here, all day long, men, women,
and children were slipping and tumbling like seals in the creaming
rollers. They shot deftly through the combers before they broke, and
away out to sea, then came skimming back stretched flat on their
swimming-boards, sitting on them, standing on them, marvels of grace
and beauty, with shouts and laughter and life's tide at its fullest.
It was their most rational enjoyment, and the finest possible outlet
for their activities. It kept them healthy and it kept them clean.
It also led to friction between the various factions, just as the taro
fields had done. This was the only place available for surf-swimming
for many miles on either side. Until the late troubles it had been
common to all. Now the nearest dwellers, Ha'o's people and the atoll
men, monopolised it, and when the others desired to join the sport they
were received with taunts and jibes which came quickly to blows, and
Blair had to adopt the _role_ of peacemaker once more.
Ha'o and his men would have kept the others from the surf, just as they
would have kept them from the taro swamps. But Blair would not have
it. He reasoned with them, talked to them and at them, in a voluble
mixture of Samoan, Kapaa'an, and English, and made them understand what
he meant if many of his words were beyond them.
In a pow-wow of this kind, when his feelings ran far in advance of his
tongue, he could not wait for Matti's plodding interpretation, but
dashed at it himself, and surprised and tickled his hearers with his
white-hot vehemence.
They were mighty arguers and had the advantage of the language, but he
brought them to his will by sheer force of insistence. He had right on
his side, and he would have them to it also. They grumblingly yielded
the shore on certain days of the week, and Blair rejoiced in this
further sign of growth and progress.
Meanwhile, however, he knew that they were busily at work on the
preparation of arguments of a more forceful description, and he had
little hope of reaching his ultimate goal without these coming into
use. So small a spark might set them all aflame that it was useless
attempting to forecast it or to stifle it in advance. All he could do
was to endeavour, by every means in his power, to build up among them
the new influences which he and his friends represented, so that when
the time came they should count as factors in the case.
The houses in the village were all more or less laughable imitations of
the mission-house, for they were as imitative as monkeys, so long as
imitation imposed no restrictions, and at sight of the white men's
houses they pulled down their own and began again with these as models.
And when they got to boat-building, the canoes of their fathers were no
longer good enough for them. Their new boats must follow the lines of
the white men's boats also, to Blair's great satisfaction, since it
entailed mighty labours, and while they were busy they were safe from
outbreaks on side issues.
At the mission-station all worked alike; the men breaking up the ground
for plants and vegetables, and attending to the live stock, the women
doing the housework and cooking. All day long the house was surrounded
by an inquisitive throng, which watched keenly and commented fully and
frankly on everything it saw, and with whom the busy workers carried on
disjointed conversations, and picked up native words in exchange for
English ones, amid shouts of laughter at the multitudinous mistakes on
either side.
Morning and evening the white men held a short service, and the brown
men and women caught up the hymn tunes and hummed them lustily, with no
slightest idea of what they meant, but with none the less enjoyment.
The small harmonium had been brought ashore and was a huge delight, and
for a time a mighty mystery to them. Jean played it, and they could
not understand why it should sing when she touched the keys and remain
mute when they did the same. Then one cunning fellow, by dint of
persistent watching, caught sight of her feet moving beneath her dress,
and with an excited "Hi!" laid himself flat on his stomach with his
nose at her heels, and the mystery was solved.
The novel tunes ran in their heads, some even of the incomprehensible
words, and it was strange indeed to hear a naked brown man chopping
away at a slab of timber and singing lustily, "Kown 'im! kown 'im! kown
'im! kown 'im law-daw-faw!" Later on they heard that tune amid still
stranger surroundings, for the lilt and swing of it captured their
fancy, and they were at it morning, noon, and night--building their
boats, working in the taro fields, sweeping along on the tops of the
rolling combers, sitting outside their houses when the day's work was
done.
There was a hopeful, homely sound in it, and those who sang with
understanding hoped fervently that in time the others might do so too.
They were very children, these brown men and women, in their
light-heartedness, quarrelsomeness, and lack of restraint. Whatsoever
seemed good in their eyes at the moment, that they did, regardless of
consequences. Only at times, the innate savagery showed through, and
then they were to be feared. Like hot-headed children who had never
known restraint, there was no knowing what they would do, except that
it would certainly be something unpleasant to the offending one and
possibly to the bystanders.
They were very magpies, too, in the snapping up of treasure-trove.
"We won't call it stealing," said Blair soothingly to John MacNeil, the
carpenter, who was complaining for the twentieth time of missing tools.
"They don't look on it in that light, you see, John."
"Thievin' blayguards!" said John dourly, minus another tool.
"We'll teach them better soon. Meanwhile, leave nothing lying about if
you can help it, and give them no opportunities. They are so in the
habit of picking up anything they want that it's become part of their
nature."
"Juist thievin' blayguards! I'd clour their heads if I could catch 'em
at it, but it'd need eyes all round to be upsides with 'em."
And when, now and again, John did catch them at it, and proceeded to
clour their heads, they took it quite good-humouredly, and surrendered
their prize with a grin, and bore no malice.
It was a strange right-about-face in the lives of the ladies, and many
a laugh they had over it.
"Jean, my dear," said Aunt Jannet one day, when all four of them were
busily washing and wringing out clothes at the mouth of the river,
"this is a change from Hyde Park, isn't it?" At which, and the
incongruity of associations which sprang up in them at her words, they
all broke into laughter.
Straight in front lay the placid stretch of the lagoon, pulsing softly
to the broken influx through the gap in the reef; beyond it, the crisp,
white leaping hedge of foam along the reef itself; beyond that, the
infinite expanse of sea and sky, and the far-away white line where
upper and lower blue met and kissed: on the one side, the bold green
shoulders of the mountain, feathered with slow-swinging palms, solemn,
mysterious, just a trifle threatening, since Ra'a lived there; on the
beach beyond, a mixed company of brown men and white, busy at
boat-building, with spasmodic outbreaks of "Kown 'im! kown 'im! kown
'im!" to the tapping of the hammers: on the other side, the tumbled
rocks of the ridge and the ceaseless growl of the surf; behind them the
white houses of the mission, the bosky valley, peeps of native houses,
sounds of women's voices and children's laughter.
"It is certainly a wider outlook," said Jean cheerfully.
Then a slim brown and white figure stole up beside them, and became
immediately all brown, as Nai loosed her towel vestments and began to
wash them in the same way as the white women were doing.
"And here is first-fruits," said Jean. "Good morning, Nai."
"Mawin," smiled Nai, proud of her accomplishments, and spread her
towels to dry in the sun alongside the more complicated garments of
civilisation.
The _Torch_ was away with Blair and Stuart on a tour of exploration
round the island, and possibly to one or two of the neighbouring ones.
Blair had been waiting for the opportunity for some time past. Ha'o
had told him of communities on the other side of the island, and he was
desirous of getting in touch with them as soon as possible.
The ladies had wished to go too, but he thought them better at home
till he had spied out the land himself. He intended to land at the
different villages, and the enterprise might not be without its
dangers. Of these he made light, however, and it was with tranquil
minds that those ashore waved their farewells in the early dawn, as the
_Torch_ slipped from her anchorage and wafted lightly down the lagoon.
The times seemed in all ways propitious. Ha'o, indeed, would have
preferred that the white men's favours should have been kept all for
himself, but Blair was at pains to explain to him that nothing less
than the whole island, and if possible all the islands, would satisfy
him. In view of what he knew would follow sooner or later, he tried to
explain to the brown man that if it were possible to unite the various
communities on Kapaa'a under one paramount chief it would be for the
great benefit of all.
To which Ha'o replied succinctly--
"Then we must kill Ra'a," and rose to the prospect.
Ra'a had been quiescent for some time now. There was occasional
friction between members of the various factions, but nothing more than
was to be expected under the circumstances. They were simply
squabbles, resulting in no general disquiet, though symptomatic of the
underlying feeling that was abroad.
Ha'o, however, never ceased his warnings. Ra'a he said feelingly, was
not to be trusted, and the only right and proper thing for the white
men to do was to join him in wiping him out, and the sooner the better.
And, simply from a political point of view, Blair could not but confess
to himself that the weight of evidence was in Ha'o's favour. For Ra'a
remained in truculent retirement, and doggedly rejected all efforts at
conciliation. Blair had gone up the mountain more than once since that
first time, and had done his utmost to win him over. Ra'a accepted all
his presents as his rightful due, but gave absolutely nothing in
return, not even worthless promises. He was the black cloud on the
horizon, and they could only hope that he would remain a cloud and not
develop into a storm.
Each week that passed strengthened Ha'o's hands. Not only did it give
him time to arm and consolidate his own little community, but his
numbers were constantly increased by ones and twos, as the dwellers in
the hills took note of the advantages enjoyed by those on the shore
through their intercourse with the white men, and desired to share in
them. Ha'o permitted the return of these prodigals, since it was
better to have them under his hand than beyond his reach. He put
little faith in them, but had the wisdom to keep his feelings to
himself. Blair welcomed them as straws indicative of the current, but
Ha'o, better versed in the ways of his race, pushed on his preparations
for the conflict which he foresaw these very secessions would sooner or
later precipitate.
When Blair told him of his impending trip of exploration, and tried to
induce him to come with them, Ha'o stated bluntly that he preferred to
remain at home. It was not impossible that he had it in his mind that
if anything happened in Blair's absence, he would have the freer hand
to act as he pleased. For the white men were ever on the side of
magnanimity, and magnanimity, where Ra'a was concerned, was to Ha'o
simple foolishness.