BACK TO FOTUNA
That morning after breakfast, as the Adventurer heeled her
weather-beaten sides over the trade wind, and the clanking pumps sent a
stream of clear water through the lee scuppers, Tom and Bill on the one
part, and Herrendeen on the other part, made a bargain.
Mrs. Casalle had come on deck and was reclining in a cane lounge, with
Solepa sitting at her feet fondling her hands and looking into her
mistress's face, as she talked volubly to her in Samoan. With her
new-found happiness shining in her eyes, and tinting her pale cheeks,
Mrs. Casalle seemed to scarcely heed the girl's prattle--she was trying
to hear the good-natured argument going on between Tom, the Maori, and
the captain. The two hours' talk she had had with Tom had not satisfied
her; she wanted to hear his story over and over again; to hear him tell
her how he had carried 'the little one' up from the beach and placed her
in Kate Gorman's arms; to question him again about her husband and how
he looked, and about Port Kooringa, and his own father and brother, and
Kate--and then to lie down and think of God's goodness to her in sparing
husband and child to meet her again. Oh, if she could but know where
they were now!
She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to think how many long, long
months would pass before she would hear those loved voices and see those
dear faces again. The breeze played with her soft hair under the wide
Panama hat she wore, and then she heard Herrendeen's tones.
'Now, let us go and tell Mrs. Casalle.'
She sat up with extended hands--one for Herrendeen, the other for
Tom--'What is it you are going to tell me, captain? Only one thing in
the world can make me happier than I am now.'
'And I reckon you shall have that one thing before long,' said the
captain, knowing what she meant, and pressing her hand between both his
own. 'Now here is what we have to say. Young Mr. Wallis here, and
Bill--this is Mr. William Chester, Mrs. Casalle, one of the best men in
the world that ever gripped a whale lance--and we have been talking.
They wanted to go in their boat to Fiji, and I said it was just flyin'
in the face of Providence.'
'But you will not--surely you will not?' she said to Tom, excitedly;
'think of the dangers of a boat voyage--the risks, the terrible risks.
I am a sailor's wife--and I know.'
Tom smiled. 'There is not much risk for us, Mrs. Casalle. We could
easily reach Fiji in another day or two. Why, Captain Casalle and
thirteen men made a voyage of 400 miles in bad weather to Port Kooringa!
But, as I told you, I was anxious to get to Fiji because we thought that
from there we could sooner get a ship to Australia. And my poor father
and brother----'
Her eyes filled at once. 'Ah, of course! I did not think of that. See
how selfish and thoughtless my own happiness makes me! Forgive me; but
oh, do not go away in the boat; do not, do not, I beg of you! You are
safer here. In a boat you run such awful risks.'
'Just what _I_ said, Mrs. Casalle,' broke in Herrendeen. '_I_ say that
this young man, who has had enough escapes from death to last an or'nary
person all his life, and has a father and brother, has no business to
think of scooting around the Pacific in a whaleboat when he has a good
solid deck under his feet. And so he isn't going to do it. He's just
coming along with us to Samoa.'
'I am so glad; perhaps we may meet my husband and child there.'
'Just what I said. Your husband wasn't likely to stay long at Port
Kooringa. He would naturally try to get back to Samoa, where he had his
trading station, as soon as he possibly could, if only to settle up his
business before going to sea again. Now I shouldn't be a bit surprised
if we hear that he has been there, and we'll know where he's gone to.
Perhaps he may be there when we arrive.'
The wife's eyes lit up, and again a smile illumined her beautiful face.
'Ah, Captain Herrendeen, how you talk! If I were strong enough, I would
just get up and dance with you and Solepa and Mr. Wallis. I'm a girl
again to-day, and don't care what I do. Come here, Tom--I guess I won't
say "Mr." any more--now stoop. Why, you're as tall as a man, and I
shouldn't do it, but I just shall!' and putting her hands on Tom's
cheeks, she kissed him half a dozen times, much to the amusement of
Herrendeen and Solepa, the latter clapping her hands and crying,
'_Malie, malie! Ua fia fia lau lotu, seula misi!_'[#]
[#] 'Good, good! Your heart _is_ glad, dear mistress!'
'Yes, Solepa. My heart is glad. So glad that I think sometimes
everything is but a happy dream, and that to-morrow I shall awake to
sorrow again,' said Mrs. Casalle, in English, as she raised her face to
the captain.
'Well, I reckon when you look at me, Mrs. Casalle, and Tom, and Bill
Chester here, and hear those darned old pumps agoing again, and have to
eat salt pork and beans again for dinner, you'll conclude it isn't a
dream,' said Herrendeen, with a kindly smile; 'and with this wind we can
lay up pretty close to Fotuna, and ought to be there by to-morrow night,
and then, while we're getting at this blamed leak, you can rest ashore,
and try and pick up a bit. Ten days of a beat--if we have to beat--will
bring us to Samoa, and then, Mrs. Casalle, if your husband is there, you
just shall have a dance with me.'
'Indeed I shall. You, and Tom here, and you, Mr. Chester, and Mr. Burr,
and every one on this ship who has been kind to me--and every one _has_
been kind to me--shall dance me off my feet.' She spoke merrily, but
her voice trembled nevertheless, and ended in something like a sob, as
she lay back on the lounge, and looked at them with eyes filled with
happy tears.
By this time the boat had been hoisted in, and presently Maori Bill,
lifting his cap to Mrs. Casalle, went down to the main deck, and picking
up a bunch of young coco-nuts, brought them up on the poop, and placed
them at Solepa's feet.
'These are for thee, O maid with the star-like eyes!' he said gravely to
her in Samoan, 'but first let me offer one to the white lady.'
Mrs. Casalle started, and smiled as she heard him speak in Samoan, and
then took from him and drank part of a nut which he opened and presented
to her. Then she asked Tom to come below. 'You can stay here, Solepa,'
she said in English to the girl, 'until I call you.'
Maori Bill, although usually slow of speech, was no laggard in
love-making. Leaning against the fife-rail, he set to work without
delay.
'From what part of Samoa do ye come?' he asked.
'From Leone in Tutuila, where my mistress lives. Why do ye ask?'
'Because thou must be my wife. I love thee. When we get to Samoa I
shall ask for thee.'
'I shall say "No,"' said the girl, looking at him from the corner of her
eye as she raised a coconut to her lips.
'Why? Am I ill-favoured? I will make thee a good husband. Many will
envy thee.'
'_Aue_! Hear the man talk!' and Solepa rolled her eyes up at the sky.
'Tell me, how came ye to speak my tongue so well?'
'Such things are easy to me,' said Bill, affably; 'when we are married I
shall teach thee to speak good English. We shall marry in Apia at the
mission church; then thou shalt go to Tutuila with thy mistress, and
wait till I return from Sydney. I have money saved up there. Then when
I return I will buy a cutter, and trade on the coast. Hast many poor
relations?'
'Not many.'
'That is good. It is a bad thing for a wife to have people who eat up
her husband's substance. But yet I am not a mean man.'
'Why dost thou want me for wife?' said the girl, edging a little nearer
to him, and looking up at his stalwart figure.
'Because I am a widower, and I have some money saved, and want to live
in mine own house again. My dead wife was a girl of Thikombia in Fiji.'
'Pah!' said Solepa, turning down her lips in contempt. '_Ou te inoino
fafine Viti, e matapua'a._'[#]
[#] 'Fiji women disgust me, they are so ugly.'
'True, very true,' said Bill, diplomatically, 'many of them be ugly; but
she was not. She was beautiful; but yet not so beautiful as thee,
Solepa.'
He took a silver ring off his little finger, and, stooping down, lifted
her left hand.
[Illustration: HE TOOK A SILVER RING OFF HIS LITTLE FINGER.]
'It is large for even the largest of thy fingers,' he said, placing it
on; 'but when we get to Apia I shall buy thee one of gold. Art content
to promise me?'
Solepa nodded placidly. 'Ay, I am content to wed thee; but not content
to leave the white lady. I would be always _tavini tausi tama_ (nurse)
to her.'
Bill waved his hand magnificently. 'It may be that I shall let thee
remain to serve her while I go to sea. But I cannot tell now. Try and
please me, and all will be well.'
Then, filling his pipe, he strolled for'ard, to announce his engagement
to Charlie, for whom he had conceived a liking.
During the morning Mrs. Casalle gave Tom an interesting account of her
home in Leone Bay, on the Island of Tutuila. She had an ardent
admiration of the Samoans generally, and of the girl Solepa she spoke in
terms of absolute affection. 'She saved my life over and over again that
dreadful night, Tom; for although I can swim unusually well for a white
woman, I was dulled and paralyzed with fear. Then, when we reached
Elizabeth Reef, she tended and nursed me back to life again, for I
really was at the verge of death from exhaustion and grief. I do hope
the poor girl's brother Salu was one of the boat's crew which reached
Port Kooringa. She has fretted and grieved in silence, and until this
morning has hardly mentioned his name, for fear it would add a fresh
poignancy to my own constant and unhappy reflections.' She paused
awhile, and then resumed, in brighter tones--
'And so, after all your own strange adventures, you are still bent on a
sailor's life? Would it not be delightful if you could sail with my
husband? He, of course, now that the Bandolier is lost, must get another
ship.'
'I should be only too glad,' answered Tom, 'especially if Captain
Casalle continues in the South Seas.'
'Well, we shall know before many months--perhaps weeks--are past. Of
course you will have to go home first. Then you must come to us in
Samoa. Now tell me something about that strange man, Captain Hayes. I
have often heard of him from the natives, who always speak well of him.
He sometimes visits Apia with a cargo of natives, but our home is sixty
miles from there, so neither my husband nor myself have ever seen him.'
'He knew of Captain Casalle by name,' said Tom, who then gave her a
description of Hayes himself, his ship's company, and the fight on
board. Then he told her all about old Sam and his wonderful brig, at
which she was greatly amused.
'I should like to meet the dear old fellow,' she exclaimed.
During the night the wind worked round two or three points, and enabled
the barque to lay a direct course for Fotuna, and at daylight Singavi
Harbour was plainly in sight, with the yellow-thatched huts peeping out
among the bright green of the cocoa-palms.
As soon as the Adventurer was safely moored, the French priest whom Tom
had met previously came on board. The old man was both surprised and
pleased to see him again, and told him he had done wisely in returning
to the island, instead of going on the boat to Fiji. Then Captain
Herrendeen introduced him to Mrs. Casalle, briefly telling him her
story. The priest was very sympathetic, and at once urged her and Tom
to take up their abode at the mission until the Adventurer was ready for
sea again.
'You need rest, oh, very much rest, and change of food, so that you may
become strong again. And next to my own house there is a small
school-house which you shall use as your own. It shall be made as
comfortable as possible. We shall be most pleased. You are the first
white lady we have seen at Fotuna for ten--no, twelve--years, and my
people will be proud, I do assure you. Now I shall not delay, but
return at once to prepare for you;' and hurriedly shaking hands with
them, he bustled off ashore again.
By this time the decks were filled with natives of both sexes, all of
whom crowded round Mrs. Casalle and Solepa, and gave utterance to
expressions of sympathy, when the latter, speaking in Samoan, told them
what had befallen her mistress and herself. Presents of fruit were
brought to them in such profusion that within an hour or two the after
deck was completely covered.
Early in the afternoon the mission boat came alongside, to take Mrs.
Casalle, Solepa, and Tom to the mission station at Alo, as the journey
over the mountain paths would have been more than the former could have
accomplished. The Singavi people, however, who were jealous of Alo
securing the _tamaitai papalagi_[#] as a guest, urged her not to go in
the boat, but let them carry her through the mountain forest on a
litter. At length, after a violent dispute between the two parties, the
Singavi natives gave way, on it being pointed out to them by Maori Bill
that although the white lady, Tom, and the Samoan girl were going to
Alo, the ship would remain at Singavi, and prove a considerable source
of profit to them, as their services would be required to help in
heaving her down. This ended matters satisfactorily, and bidding the
kind-hearted captain and his officers good-bye for the present, Tom and
Mrs. Casalle went off in the boat, the brown-skinned crew of which at
once struck up a canoe song as they plunged their long, narrow-pointed
canoe-paddles into the water.
[#] White lady.
'I'll come and see you in a few days,' called out Herrendeen, as the
boat shot out through the opening in the reef.
[Illustration: THEY STRUCK UP A CANOE SONG AS THEY PADDLED ALONG.]
Before starting to heave down the ship, came the tedious task of
discharging over three hundred barrels of oil, and rafting them ashore;
then the barque was taken in close under a rocky bluff, which offered
excellent facilities to carry out the work in water as calm as a mill
pond, and as clear as the purest crystal. The started butt-end was
found and repaired, the ship righted again, and preparations made for
re-shipping the oil by the morning of the fifth day.
That afternoon Herrendeen visited the mission house, where he found Mrs.
Casalle and Solepa busy at work with two or three young native women,
making dresses out of some more modestly coloured prints than those she
had been able to obtain on the Adventurer, which were of the very
brightest hue, being intended only for disposal to the colour-loving
natives of the Moluccas, and other islands where the captain usually
called to buy provisions during his cruise.
'We'll be ready for sea in another week,' he said, looking at his
passenger with undisguised admiration. 'Why, Mrs. Casalle, my officers
won't know you again, you look----' He was about to say 'so beautiful,'
but stopped himself in time.
'Ten years younger, Captain Herrendeen, I hope you were going to say,
but I'll be content if you say five,' she broke in, with a laugh. 'Have
you seen Father Serge yet?'
'No, I came to see you first, of course; but here he comes. Where is
Tom?'
Mrs. Casalle nodded her pretty head half a dozen times in rapid
succession, and threw up her hands in affected indignation.
'Away, of course. He's never here between daylight and dark. If he's
not out pig-hunting in the forest, he's away fishing in the middle of
the ocean between here and Alofi. He's just deserted me altogether. Is
not that so, father?' she said to the old priest, who with another
Marist priest as old as himself just then entered the house to greet the
captain.
'He is what you call a rambler, a rambler! Oh yes, a great rambler; but
he is a good boy, madame, a good boy. Now will you not come with us, so
that we may show our friend here all over our mission station?'
Just before supper at the mission house that evening, Tom, brown-faced,
dirty, and panting, came staggering up the pebbled path with a turtle on
his shoulder.
'We got three,' he said triumphantly, putting the creature down on the
verandah,--'and this is only the smallest. Hallo, captain, how are
you?'
'Tom Wallis, you ought to have been born a Red Indian or a Samoan,' said
Mrs. Casalle, laughingly.
'That's what my father has often said, Mrs. Casalle. And I believe he
was right.'