Lagoon in the Western Carolines, was standing at his door, smoking his
pipe and wondering what was best to be done. Behind him, in the big
sitting-room, were his wife and some other native women, conversing in
low tones and looking shudderingly at a basket made of green coconut
leaves which stood in the centre of the matted floor.
Presently the trader turned and motioned one of the women to come to
him.
“Take it away and bury it,” he said, “'tis an ill thing for my wife to
see.”
The woman, whose eyes were red with weeping, stooped and lifted the
basket; and then a young native lad, nude to the waist, stepped quickly
over to the place where it had lain and sprinkled a handful of white
sand over a broad patch of red which stained the mat.
Palmer, still smoking thoughtfully, watched the rest of the women follow
her who carried the basket away into the grove of breadfruit-trees, and
then sat down upon a bench outside his door.
The sun was blazing hot, and on the broad, glassy expanse of the
slumbering atoll a dim, misty haze, like the last vanishing vapours of
a sea fog in some cold northern clime, hovered low down upon the water;
for early in the day the trade wind had died away in faint, warm gusts,
and left the island and the still lagoon to swelter under the fierce
rays of an all but equatorial sun. Five miles away, on the western side
of the reef-encircled lagoon, a long, low and densely-wooded islet stood
out, its white, dazzling line of beach and verdant palms seeming to
quiver and sway to and fro in the blinding glare of the bright sunlight.
Beyond lay the wide sweep of the blue Pacific, whose gentle undulations
scarce seemed to have strength enough to rise and lave the weed-clad
face of the barrier reef which, for thirty miles, stretched east and
west in an unbroken, sweeping curve.
In Ailap village, where the trader lived, a strange unusual silence
brooded over all; and though under the cool shades of the groves of
breadfruit and orange-trees groups of brown-skinned people were sitting
together, they only spoke in whispered tones, and looked every now and
again at the figure of the white man standing at his door.
And as the people sat together in silence, Palmer, with his bearded
chin resting on the palm of one hand, gazed steadily before him, seeming
oblivious of their presence, for he was thinking deeply, and wondering
what had best be done to rid the island of Jinaban.
Presently a young man, dressed like a seaman and wearing a wide-rimmed
hat of pandanus leaf, came along the path that led from the village to
the trader's house. He stopped for a moment at the gate as if in doubt
whether to open it or not; and then catching sight of Palmer's figure he
pushed it open quickly and walked towards him, and the trader, roused by
the sound of approaching footsteps, raised his head and looked in some
surprise at the new-comer, who was an utter stranger to him.
“Good morning,” said the man to Palmer, and the moment he had spoken and
lifted his hat, the trader saw that he was not a white man, for his dark
complexion, wavy black hair and deep-set eyes proclaimed him to be of
mixed blood. Nearly six feet in height, he yet walked and moved with
that particularly easy and graceful manner so noticeable among the
native races of Polynesia, and Palmer was quick to see from his stature
and appearance generally that he was not a Caroline Island half-caste.
And he noticed as well that the stranger had a firm, square-set jaw and
a fearful raw-looking slash across his face that extended from ear to
chin.
“Good morning,” he answered. “Do you want to see me?”
“Yes,” answered the man, in a slow, hesitating sort of manner. “I
was the second mate of that schooner “--and he waved his hand with a
backward sweep toward the lagoon, where a large white-painted vessel was
being towed down to the passage by her boats, to anchor and wait for the
land-breeze at night--“but last night I had a row with the skipper. He
called me a half-bred Maori nigger, an' so----”
“And so you had a fight?”
“Yes, sir, we had a fight. But he couldn't stand up to me for more than
a couple of rounds; an' sang out for the mate an' carpenter to come and
help him, an' the three of 'em went for me: They got me down at last,
and then the mate gave me a slash across the face with his knife. So,
as I didn't want to get killed, I jumped overboard and swam ashore. I've
been hiding in the village since.”