Court day in Atuona; the case of Daughter of the Pigeon and the
sewing-machine; the story of the perfidy of Drink of Beer and the
death of Earth Worm who tried to kill the governor.
The Marquesan was guaranteed his day in court. There was one judge
in the archipelago and one doctor, and they were the same, being
united in the august person of M. L'Hermier des Plantes, who was
also the pharmacist. The jolly governor, in his twenties, with
medical experience in an African army post and in barracks in France,
was irked by his judicial and administrative duties, though little
troubled by his medical functions, since he had few drugs and knew
that unless these were swallowed by the patient in his presence they
would be tried upon the pigs or worn as an amulet around the neck.
Faithful to his orders, however, the judge sat upon the woolsack
Saturdays, unless it was raining or he wished to shoot _kuku_.
One Saturday morning, being invited to breakfast at the palace, I
strolled down to observe the workings of justice. Court was called
to order in the archives room of the governor's house. The judge sat
at a large table, resplendent in army blue and gold, with cavalry
boots and spurs, his whiskers shining, his demeanor grave and stern.
Bauda, clerk of the court, sat at his right, and Peterano, a native
catechist, stood opposite him attired in blue overalls and a
necklace of small green nuts, ready to act as interpreter.
Each defendant, plaintiff, prisoner, and witness was sworn
impressively, though no Bible was used; which reminded me that in
Hongkong I saw a defendant refuse to handle a Bible in court, and
when the irate English judge demanded his reasons, calmly replied
that the witness who had just laid down the book had the plague, and
it was so proved.
The first case was that of a Chinese, member of the Shan-Shan
syndicate which owned a store in Atuona. He was charged with
shooting _kukus_ without a license. There were not many of these
small green doves left in the islands, and the governor, whose
favorite sport and delicacy they were, was righteously angered at the
Chinaman's infraction of the law. He fined the culprit twenty dollars,
and confiscated to the realm the murderous rifle which had aided the
crime.
The Shan-Shan man was stunned, and expostulated so long that he was
led out by Flag, the gendarme, after being informed that he might
appeal to Tahiti. He was forcibly put off the veranda, struggling to
explain that he had not shot the gun, but had merely carried it as a
reserve weapon in case he should meet a Chinese with whom he had a
feud.
A sailor of the schooner _Roberta_, who had stolen a case of
absinthe from Captain Capriata's storeroom aboard and destroyed the
peace of a valley to which he took it as a present to a feminine
friend, was fined five dollars and sentenced to four months' work on
the roads.
The criminal docket done, civil cases were called. The barefooted
bailiff, Flag, stole out on the veranda occasionally to take a
cigarette from the inhabitants of the valley of Taaoa, who crowded
the lawn around the veranda steps. All save Kahuiti, they had come
over the mountains to attend in a body a trial in which two of them
figured--the case of Santos vs. Tahiaupehe (Daughter of the Pigeon).
Santos was a small man, born in Guam, and had been ten years in Taaoa,
having deserted from a ship. He and I talked on the veranda in
Spanish, and he explained the desperate plight into which love had
dragged him. He adored Tahaiupehe, the belle of Taaoa. For months he
had poured at her feet all his earnings, and faithfully he had
labored at copra-making to gain money for her. He had lavished upon
her all his material wealth and the fierce passion of his Malay heart,
only to find her disdainful, untrue, and, at last, a runaway. While
he was in the forest, he said, climbing cocoanut-trees to provide
her with luxuries, she had fled his hut, carrying with her a certain
"Singaire" and a trunk. He was in court to regain this property.
"_Ben Santos me Tahaiupehe mave! A mai i nei!_" cried Flag, pompously.
The pair entered the court, but all others were excluded except me.
As a distinguished visitor, waiting to breakfast with the judge and
the clerk, I had a seat.
The Daughter of the Pigeon, comely and voluptuous, wore an
expression of brazen bitterness such as I have seen on the faces of
few women. A procuress in Whitechapel and a woman in America who
had poisoned half a dozen of her kin had that same look; sneering,
desperate, contemptuous, altogether evil. I wondered what
experiences had written those lines on the handsome face of Daughter
of the Pigeon.
Ben Santos was sworn. Through the interpreter he told his sad tale
of devotion and desertion and asked for his property. The Singaire
had been bought of the German store. He had bought it that Daughter
of the Pigeon might mend his garments, since she had refused to do
so without it. He had not given it to her at all, but allowed her
the use of it in consideration of "love and affection" he swore.
Daughter of the Pigeon glared at the unhappy little man with an
intensity of hatred that alarmed me for his life. She took the stand,
malevolently handsome in finery of pink tunic, gold ear-rings, and
necklace of red peppers, barefooted, bare-armed, barbaric. She spat
out her words.
"This man made love to me and lived with me. He gave me the
sewing-machine and the trunk. He is a runt and a pig, and I am tired
of him. I left his hut and went to the house of my father. I took my
Singaire and my trunk."
"Ben Santos," inquired the judge, with a critical glance at Daughter
of the Pigeon, "What return did you make to this woman for keeping
your house?"
"I provided her food and her dresses," stammered the little man.
"Food hangs from trees, and dresses are a few yards of stuff," said
the surgical Solomon. "The fair ones of the Marquesas do not give
themselves to men of your plainness for _popoi_ and muslin robes.
You are a foreigner. You expect too much. The preponderance of
probability, added to the weight of testimony, causes the court to
believe that this woman is the real owner of the sewing-machine and
the trunk. It is so adjudged."
"_La mujer es una diabola, pero me gusto mucho_," said Santos to me,
and sighed deeply. "The woman is a devil, but I like her very much."
[Illustration: Tahaiupehe, Daughter of the Pigeon, of Taaoa]
[Illustration: Nataro Puelleray and wife
He is the most learned Marquesan and the only one who knows the language
and legends thoroughly]
The unfortunate Malay got upon his horse and, his soul deep in the
swamp of jealousy, departed to resume his copra-making.
Court adjourned. The judge, the clerk, and the interpreter, Daughter
of the Pigeon, and I toasted the blind goddess in rum, the sun being
very hot on the iron roof. Bauda and I stayed to breakfast at eleven
o'clock, and the governor permitted me to look through the _dossier_
of Daughter of the Pigeon. This record is kept of all Marquesans or
others resident in the islands; each governor adds his facts and
prejudices and each newcoming official finds the history and
reputation of each of his charges set down for his perusal. In this
record of Daughter of the Pigeon I found the reason for the
malevolent character depicted by her face.
The men of the hills have a terrible custom of capturing any woman
of another valley who goes alone in their district. Grelet's first
companion was caught one night by forty, who for punishment built
the ten kilometres of road between Haniapa and Atuona. Many Daughters,
the beautiful little leper, when thirteen years old was a victim of
seventeen men, some of whom were imprisoned. Daughter of the Pigeon
had had a fearful experience of this kind. It had seared her soul,
and Santos was paying for his sex.
In feud times this custom was a form of retaliation, as the slaying
of men and eating them. It has survived as a sport. Lest horror
should spend itself upon these natives of the islands, I mention
that in every state in our union similar records blacken our history.
War's pages from the first glimmerings to the last foul moment reek
with this deviltry. British and French at Badajoz and Tarragona, in
Spain, left fearful memories. Occident and Orient alike are guilty.
This crime smutches the chronicle of every invasion. It is part of
the degradation of slums in all our cities, a sport of hoodlum gangs
everywhere. In the Marquesas it is a recognized, though forbidden,
game, and has its retaliatory side. Time was when troops of women
have revenged it in strange, savage ways.
This unsubmissive and aggressive attitude of Marquesan women was
brought home to me this very afternoon after the trial, when
Daughter of the Pigeon came galloping up to my cabin. She reined in
her horse like a cowboy who had lassoed a steer and, throwing the
bridle over the branch of an orange-tree, tripped into my living-room,
where I was writing.
Without a word she put her arms around me, and in a moment I was
enacting the part of Joseph when he fled from Potiphar's wife. With
some muscular exertion I got her out of the house at the cost of my
shirt. Puafaufe (Drink of Beer), a chief of Taaoa, appeared at this
moment, while I was still struggling with her upon my _paepae_.
"_Makimaki okioki i te!_ An ungovernable creature!" he commented,
shaking his head, and looking on with interest as she again attacked
me vigorously, to the danger of my remaining shreds of garments.
Chivalry is not a primitive emotion, but it dies hard in the
civilized brain, and I was attempting the impossible. Fending her
off as best I could, I conjured the chief by the red stripe on the
sleeve of his white jacket, his badge of office, to rescue me, for
Madame Bapp was now on her _paepae_, craning her fat neck, and I had
no mind to be laughed at by my own tint.
The chief, however, maintained the impartial attitude of the
bystander at a street fight. Smothered in the embraces of Daughter
of the Pigeon, covered with embarrassment, I struggled and cursed,
and had desperately decided to fling her bodily over the eight-foot
wall of the _paepae_ into the jungle, when another arrival dashed up
the trail. This was the brother of Daughter of the Pigeon.
It was evident that my cabin had been appointed as a rendezvous,
though I had no acquaintance with any of my three visitors. A
suspicion was born in my dull brain. To make it surety, I grasped my
feminine wooer by wrists and throat and thrust her into the arms of
the chief with a stern injunction to hold her. Then, without hint of
my intention, I hastened into the house and brought forth the
demijohn and cocoanut-shells.
The amorous fury of Daughter of the Pigeon melted into gratitude,
and after two drinks apiece the company galloped away, leaving me to
repair tattered garments and thank my stars for my supply of _namu_.
But the end of court-day was not yet. I had barely fallen into my
first slumber that night when I was awakened by the disconsolate
Shan-Shan man, who came humbly to present me with a half-pound
doughnut of his own making, and to beg my intercession with the
governor for the return of his gun. He reiterated tearfully that he
had not meant to shoot _kukus_ with it, that he had not done so,
that he desired it only in order to be able to take a pot-shot at
the offending countryman in the village. He urged desperately that
the other Chinese still possessed a gun well oiled and loaded. He
asserted even with tears that he had all respect and admiration for
the white man's law. But he wanted his gun, and he wanted it quickly.
I calmed him with the twice-convenient _namu_, and after promising
to explain the situation to the governor, I sat for some time on my
_paepae_ in the moonlight, talking with the unhappy convict.
Without prompting he divulged to me that my suspicions had been
correct; Drink of Beer had himself instigated the raid of the bold
Daughter of the Pigeon upon my rum. Drink of Beer, it appeared, was
known in the islands for many feats of successful duplicity. One had
nearly cost the life of Jean Richard, a young Frenchman who worked
for the German trader in Taka-Uka.
"Earth Worm was a man of Taaoa," said my guest, sitting cross-legged
on my mats, his long-nailed, yellow fingers folded in his lap.
"He was nephew of Pohue-toa, eater of many men. Earth Worm was
arrested by Drink of Beer and brought before the former governor,
Lailheugue, known as Little Pig.
"Drink of Beer said that Earth Worm had made _namu enata_, the juice
of the flower of the palm that makes men mad. Earth Worm swore that
he had done no wrong. He swore that Drink of Beer had allowed him,
for a price, to make the _namu enata_, and that Drink of Beer had
said this was according to the law. But when he failed to pay again,
Drink of Beer had arrested him.
"Drink of Beer said this not true. He wore the red stripe on his
sleeve; therefore the governor Little Pig said that Earth Worm lied,
and sent him to prison for a year.
"Now Earth Worm was an informed man, a son of many chiefs, and
himself resolved in his ways. He said that he would speak before the
courts of Tahiti, and he would not go in shame to the prison. At
this time that governor was finished with his work here and was
departing on a ship to Tahiti, and Earth Worm with hate in his heart,
embarked on that ship, saying nothing, but thinking much.
"He lived forward with the crew, and said nothing, but thought.
Others spoke to him, saying that he would not profit by the journey
to Tahiti where the word of the governor was powerful, but he did
not reply. The men of the crew wished Earth Worm to kill the governor,
for every Marquesan hated him, and he had done a terrible thing for
which he deserved death.
"There had been an aged gendarme who fell ill because of a curse
laid on him by a _tahuna_. He was dying. This governor took from his
box in the house of medicines a sharp small knife, and with it he
cut the veins of a Marquesan who had done some small wrong against
the law and lay in jail. He bound this man by the arm to the
gendarme who was dying, and through the cut the blood ran into the
gendarme's veins. His heart sucked the blood from the body of the
Marquesan like a vampire bat of the forest, and he lay bound, feeling
the blood go from him. The village knew that this was being done,
and could do nothing but hate and fear, for it was the governor who
had done it.
"The gendarme died, and you may yet see on the beach sometimes that
man who was a strong and brave Marquesan. He trembles now like
_hotu_ leaves in the wind, for he never forgets the terrible magic
done upon him by that governor. He remembers the hours when he lay
bound to that man who was dying, and the dying man sucked his blood
from him.
"Now this governor was on the ship going away, and he had not been
killed. This made all Marquesans sad, and those in the crew talked
to Earth Worm, who had also been wronged, and urged him to rise and
strike. But he said nothing.
"The ship came to the Paumotas, and the governor sat all day long on
a stool on the deck, watching the islands as they passed. Earth Worm
sat in his place, watching the governor. One night at dark he rose,
and taking an iron rod laid beside him by one of the crew he crept
along the deck and stood behind the man on the stool. He raised the
iron rod and brought it down with fury upon the head of that man,
who fell covered with blood. Then he leaped into the sea.
"But the governor had gone below, and it was Jean Richard who sat on
the stool in the darkness. He was found bleeding upon the deck, and
the bones of his head were cut and lifted and patched, so that
to-day he lives, as well as ever. Earth Worm was never found. A boat
with a lantern was lowered, but it found nothing but the fins of
sharks.
"That was the work of Drink of Beer, who had hated Earth Worm
because he was a brave and strong man of Taaoa. When this was told
to Drink of Beer, he smiled and said, 'Earth Worm is safer where he
is.'
"I have talked too much. Your rum is very good. I thank you for your
kindness. You will not forget to deign to speak to the governor
concerning the matter of the gun?"
I promised that I would not forget, and after a prolonged
leavetaking the Shan-Shan man slipped silently down the trail and
vanished in the moon-lit forest.