ship's sides, rocking to and fro with her as she rolled. It was a
beautiful sight, and Louis and I leaned over admiring them. Suddenly a
lovely young girl (we were told she is to be married next week) climbed
up to me like a cat, pulled off a ring, and pushed it on my finger. I
ran back and got a blue-bead necklace for her and she climbed down in
a state of great delight. The beads will doubtless serve as wedding
jewels, for she did not put them on but tied them up carefully in a bit
of cotton stuff. We watched the canoes go over the surf; one, filled
with women, upset, but nobody appeared to mind so small a mishap.
Mr. Hird tells us a story it is well to remember. There was some sort
of disturbance at Penrhyn, where his vessel was trading, and all on
the ship were afraid for their lives to go ashore except himself. The
moment his boat touched ground he dashed up to a little maid of seven,
the chief's daughter, and, taking her by the hand, calmly walked to
where he wished to go.
Last night, as we were sitting round the lamp, some one looked up and
perceived that all three port-holes had as many faces looking through
them as could find an eyehole. Mr. Henderson went into his room and
arranged a few conjuring tricks. When he returned he made money
disappear in a box, bits of cork change places, etc. While speaking
to one of us he carelessly tore off a piece of newspaper and handed
it to a man at the port-hole, but as the man's fingers closed on it
the paper disappeared. "_Tiaporo!_" (the devil!) he cried, his eyes
almost starting from his head. This was followed by the throwing up of
money which apparently fell back through the crown of a hat and jingled
inside. The last and most thrilling feat was after Mr. Henderson had
been pulling money from all our heads, noses, and ears. He seemed to be
retiring quietly to his room when he gave a start, looked up in the air
over his head, and with a leap caught a silver dollar that seemed to be
falling from the ceiling.
I forgot to say that in the afternoon Louis was dictating to Lloyd,
who used his typewriter. All the air and most of the light was cut off
from them by heads at the port-holes. I watched the faces and saw one
intelligent old man explaining to the others that Lloyd was playing an
accompaniment to Louis's singing; the old man several times tried to
follow the tune but found it impossible. He did not appear to think it
a good song, and once, with difficulty, restrained his laughter.
_9th._--We should have picked up Arorai yesterday at four o'clock, but
somehow missed it and did not arrive until this morning. An atoll about
six miles long, the first of the Kingsmills (or Gilberts). Natives
swarmed round the ship in canoes built somewhat after the pattern of
the American Indian birch-bark canoe. The pieces are tied together with
cocoanut sennit and the boats leak like sieves. Louis, Lloyd, and I
went on shore in the afternoon; Louis, to my distress, for it was very
hot, with a hammer to break off bits of the reef for examination and
Lloyd with the camera. Louis found the rock he wished to break but was
a little afraid to use the force necessary. Seeing a powerful young man
standing near, he offered a stick of tobacco for the job. The fellow
smiled with delight, took the hammer, and struck one blow. "Too much
work," said he, dropping the hammer.
Lloyd and I were taken in tow by an old man and led to the house of
the missionary, who was himself on board the ship; but his wife and
family, a handsome young Samoan woman with a pair of sickly twins, were
at the door to give us welcome. We drank cocoanuts with her and took a
photograph of the group.
There is very little soil on the island, which is subject to severe
droughts; yet there are a number of breadfruit and jack-fruit trees
growing luxuriantly, not many, however, old enough to bear. The village
looked clean and prosperous. Children and women were pulling weeds and
carrying them away in baskets. Lloyd and I strolled along a wide avenue
that ran through the town for about a quarter of a mile, stopping once
to photograph an old woman who had evidently dressed up for the ship.
She was standing in the doorway of a neat house built of stockades tied
together--the first I've seen in these islands. The house belonged
to a trader who was abroad at the time. Returning, we saw two women,
tall and superior in carriage and looks to the common people, marching
abreast toward us; they were dressed in gala-day _ridis_ of smoked and
oiled pandanus strips and swung the heavy fringe from side to side,
as they walked, in the most approved and latest style. As they came
nearer to us their four eyes were fixed on the horizon behind us, and
they swaggered past as though unaware of our existence, though we were
attended by a following of the greater part of the village. I stopped
and looked after them, but neither turned a head.[13]
[13] At this island I remember that the women wore what looked like
doll's hats as ornaments on their heads. They were about the size
of the top of a tumbler.
At the veranda of the mission house we found Louis entertained by the
old man and indignant at receiving no attention from the missionary
people; we suggested that his chopping at the reef in the hot sun had
convinced them that he was a lunatic.
We had heard of a sick trader, so we all three went to his house with
an immense tail of followers, who seated themselves outside in a circle
eight or ten deep while we talked to the sick man. A forlorn being he
looked, lying on a mat, his head thrust out into the open through the
thatched sides of the hut to catch what air there was. He had been
ill a month and a half, he said; the whole population had been ill,
also, his wife and children with the rest. With them it came first as
a rash, then a fever, followed by convalescence. He had no rash, but
after feeling very badly for a week or two, fell down in a fit, foaming
at the mouth and black in the face. Since then he had been suffering
from an intolerable pain in the head and could not stand for weakness.
I asked if he had proper food, which Louis followed by asking if his
appetite was good. When he could get anything to eat, he replied, he
liked it well enough; but he could not get anything. A bit of fish or
a chicken he could relish, but the people seldom fished and a chicken
was impossible. His food consisted almost entirely of pounded pandanus
seeds, in which there was about as much nourishment as in chopped
straw. His hands and feet were pallid and bloodless and he looked very
near the end. He was born, he said, in Colton Terrace, Edinburgh. "I'm
frae Edinburgh mysel'," said Louis. "We are far frae hame," returned
the poor fellow with a sigh. We went at once to the beach to get a
boat, intending to consult "Hartshorn," our medical authority, as to
his case, which I believed to be suppressed measles. Louis spoke to Mr.
Henderson about sending the man a case of soups to begin with, anything
heavier being dangerous in his weak state and semistarved condition.
Mr. Henderson, who is generosity itself, seemed rather hurt that we
had not taken it for granted that anything the man needed would be
supplied him at once. Mr. Henderson's only fear was that the man would,
in the usual native custom, give all the food away. He first divides
with his family, and then they divide with the outside relations, so
that provisions sufficient for a month may only last a day. It is an
amiable weakness, certainly, but one could wish that the recipients of
his bounty showed a little more gratitude. Fishing would be no more
than play for them; but I fear neither fish, flesh, nor fowl can save
him now.
The missionary who came aboard showed Louis his eye, in which he was
blind, the effect of measles, and begged for a cure. Of course there
was none, but Louis advised him to live as generously as possible and,
instead of a continual diet of pandanus seeds, to try and get some
fish. As soon as it was dark the sea was crowded with fishing-boats,
lighted up with flaring torches, made by wrapping sennit round a dry
cocoanut leaf; so we hope our poor trader may receive some benefit,
also. We could see that they were scooping up in their nets many
flying-fish. The light from the torch attracts the fish, which come
to the surface of the water round the boats and are then dipped up in
little nets on the ends of long poles.
While I was resting after my excursion to the island I heard a great
commotion; a native had been discovered trying to stow away in the
hold among the coal. Two large men could not overpower him, and for
a long time he refused to come out. One of the white firemen finally
leaned over the open hatch and held out a stick of tobacco. "Won't you
come out for that?" he asked with an insinuating smile. "He is making
signs that he will," he continued, looking at me quite proud of his
cleverness. Sure enough, up came the native, a beautiful youth with a
sullen face and blazing eyes. He strode haughtily past the fireman,
looking neither at him nor his proffered tobacco, sprang upon the side
of the ship, where he balanced himself a moment, and then jumped into
the sea and swam ashore. I sympathised with the boy and was sorry he
was caught, the more especially that another man had chosen a better
hiding-place and was not discovered until we were well at sea.
When we left the island we should have signalled a boat, but a canoe
lying at hand, we took that instead. We waded out toward the canoe,
but, as the water began rising above my knees, I stopped in alarm when
a native caught me up in his arms, unawares, before I had time to
arrange my skirts, and I was carried out, willy-nilly, my legs waving
frantically in the air. I tried to shield them from the view of the
ship with my umbrella, which I was unable to open, but I fear my means
were inadequate. The canoe was a fourth filled with water; its owner
sternly commanded Louis and me to bail and Lloyd to paddle.
From the last island we took on some passengers--two cats in an onion
crate--and at this island exchanged them for a woman and a sickly baby.
I was much amazed at seeing the mother spread a thick, dry mat on
the wet deck for her own comfort, her baby being planted on the cold
boards. I made her take it up and lay it beside her on the mat, which
seemed to amuse her a great deal. As the baby still shivered, I got an
old _lava-lava_ of Tin Jack's and wrapped it up in that, charging the
mother not to dare remove the _lava-lava_.
This is the island where, in 1871, three slave-ships, the _Moroa_
(bark), _Eugenie_ (schooner), and a barkentine, name unknown, came for
"recruits." The King, in his fright, offered them all his people except
the very young, the very old, and a few young girls reserved for his
harem. It is needless to say that his offer was accepted. I have since
met and conversed with a man who was on board one of these ships.
_12th._--Arrived early this morning at Onoatoa. The missionary's child
is named Painkiller.
_13th._--Noukanau in the morning. Met the German "labour" brig _Cito_,
after recruits, doubtless for Samoa; then ran over to Piru and back
again to Noukanau at night. At Piru we met the American schooner
_Lizzie_ with two passengers.
At Piru came on board a man named Cameron, another named Briggs, and
a person with an Italian name I forget. Briggs said he made much more
money by "doctoring" than by trading. A strange disease, he told us,
had broken out in the island; the Samoan wife of a trader had died the
night before and many others were down with it. It is contagious, and
the natives take no care to avoid infection. I said it was measles,
which Briggs denied, declaring it was typhus. I asked him where he got
his knowledge of "doctoring." "Straight from my father," said he; "my
father was the celebrated Doctor Briggs, and if you buy a bottle of his
patent medicine you can read an account of his life on the wrapper."
[Illustration: _Tom Day--a trader of Noukanau Island_]
Cameron is a Scotsman with a twinkling, hard blue eye, the daft Scotch
eye. He followed every word we said with sly caution (partly, no doubt,
in consequence of drink) as though he feared being trapped into some
dangerous admission. He was one of the men of the _Wandering Minstrel_
that was so mysteriously wrecked on Midway Island, and was afterward
charged by the captain with not reporting the fact of there being other
starving castaways left on Midway when he was rescued. To us he denied
this vehemently, and said he at once delivered a letter written by
the captain. Louis tried to get a hint of how and why the vessel was
wrecked, but failed. "Mosey," the Chinaman who was in the boat with
Cameron, was afterward wrecked again on the _Tiernan_, the schooner
we so nearly took passage in ourselves.[14] Louis got this much from
Cameron--but I am sure very little, if any, of it is true--that he had
written an account of the wreck which, with the log he kept on the
boat, had been left on one of the islands we are about to visit, for
safe-keeping. Before Cameron left he had given Louis a signed order for
the apocryphal manuscript. Of the two men we brought one back with us,
Captain Smith, who, having lost his schooner on this island, remained
as a trader. He seemed a modest, intelligent young man, rather above
the South Sea average. Tom Day, however, is--must be--the "flower of
the Pacific." Tom is fifty years of age, with a strong, alert figure
and the mobile face of an actor; his eyes are blue-grey in deep orbits,
blazing with energy and drink and high spirits. "Tom Day" is not his
real name, he says, and Tom Drunk would do quite as well; he had found
it necessary to go to the expense of a shilling to have it changed, as
he had three times deserted from men-of-war. "I've been in prison for
it," he said cheerfully, "and I got the cat for it, and if you like
you can see the stars and stripes on my back yet." He took pleasure
in representing himself as the most desperate of ruffians. Tin Jack
asked him to go back to Sydney with him. "I couldn't leave my old woman
behind," said he; "and besides, you see, I got into trouble there. The
fact is, I've got another wife there, and I think I'd do better to keep
away." He then began to tell of a quarrel he'd had with his "old woman"
when he took her to Auckland. How she chased him along the street with
a knife in one hand and a bag of sovereigns--his entire fortune--in
the other; he begged for the bag of sovereigns, trying to lay hold of
it and at the same time avoid the knife wielded by the "old woman"
(a young native girl, no doubt), who alternately lunged at him with
the knife and cracked him over the head with the bag of sovereigns.
The bursting of the bag, which scattered the sovereigns in every
direction, fortunately ended the quarrel. He mentioned Maraki, on which
Louis called to mind a story he had been told many times over.
[14] When we were accidentally marooned at Apemama during a former
cruise.
"You are the Tom Day who had a native's head cut off," said he; "now
tell me the story," which Tom presently did. A native had shot at him
without provocation. Some one said: "Don't shoot; it's a white man."
"A white man can cut a bullet as well as another," was the native's
reply as he fired. Tom put his hand to his ear, found that the shot
had grazed it and his head, and the blood was running from the wound.
Infuriated, he rushed into the house for his rifle, but when he got
back, the man frightened at what he had done, had disappeared. Tom
tried to persuade the people standing about to go after the man, pinion
him, and fetch him back to be tried. To this they objected; they could
not get him, they said, as he was a chief and had people to protect
him. One of the men came close to Tom. "Better we kill him," he said in
a low voice, which Tom imitated. "If you do," was Tom's answer, "fetch
me the head." Then turning to us with an apologetic air he explained
that "If I had not asked to see the head they'd just have gone and
killed some poor, inoffensive fellow and I'd never have known the
difference." That night he was called up by the men who had the head,
sure enough. "I made 'em stick it up on the wall," said Tom, "and then
I got a light and looked at it. I jerked it down and slung it as far as
I could; and, by golly, the old woman was in the way, half scared to
death, and it took her on the side of the head and knocked her down,
and I had to pour three or four pails of water over her, for she had
fainted dead away."
"And after that," he continued with an air of virtuous indignation,
"they wanted to make trouble about it in Sydney--they said I had killed
a man. What did they mean by it, I'd like to know? I never killed no
man; I only told them to fetch his head so I could be sure it was him."
It was very cold last night and my bed and tent and things nearly blew
away; I could not leave them and go below where it was warmer, but had
to stay and hold on to my belongings lest I should lose them entirely;
so to-day I lashed everything securely. No one stayed on the hatch but
Lloyd and me. The onions alongside Lloyd's and my beds are decaying,
and smell horrid, as do a great lot of sharks' fins drying over our
heads.
_15th._--Waked to find that we were lying off Tapituea, Tin Jack's
station. He had packed the day before and was all ready to land, his
pig tied up and lying on deck. Tapituea looks a large and dreary
island, the whole lee side submerged, making it very dangerous. We
could not venture inside the lagoon, and even if we did we should have
to anchor far away from the landing-place. It was a long time before
any one came on board, but finally a Hawaiian who spoke a little
English came out in his canoe. As Tin Jack appeared to be rather
depressed with the news from his place, and it was almost impossible
to land his stuff, we left Tapituea and ran on to Nanouti, where he
thought he might prefer to stop. He has a sort of partner at Nanouti,
known as "Billy Jones's cousin." The partner was soon on board, a man
with a big head and one hand blown off by dynamite. A new arrangement
was made with Tin Jack, who said he preferred staying in the ship as
long as possible. We are now to carry him on with us, and land him at
Nanouti as we return. A pleasant-looking young native came on board
with the trader. He wore a rosary round his neck, which reminded me
that there were Catholic missionaries on the island; I therefore made a
little parcel of four Catholic pictures for them, and Louis put in his
card; Tin Jack added a bag of garlic.
We left Nanouti before dinner, had a beautiful golden sunset, and are
now steaming on to somewhere else, Apemama,[15] I trust. To-night
the evening star is extraordinarily brilliant, with the blue fire of
a diamond. Last night Mr. Hird came to the hatch and called out in a
most excited voice: "Osbourne, we are just passing the equator!" Lloyd
jumped out of a sound sleep and ran aft, crying: "Where is she? I don't
see her!" It was a sorry joke; we were crossing the line, and it was
not Captain Reid's schooner, on which we had passed so many delightful
months.
[15] It seems easier to explain our relation with Tembinoka, King of
Apemama, at whose island I hoped we would call, by giving an extract
from a former diary written on the trading schooner _Equator_:
We have been now about a month on the island of the redoubtable
Tembinoka, an absolute monarch, who holds the lives of his subjects
(our own also) in the hollow of his hand. He says: "I kill plenty
men, him 'praid (afraid) now. I no kill any more." That he does not
mean to kill any more his subjects do not believe, nor I, quite,
myself. He once shot five men, one after another, as they sat in a
"_moniap_" (native house) where they had been brought to be examined
by him concerning some breach of his laws. There were seven men in
all, but two escaped and are still at large in another island. He
says his father had a head house where he hung up the decapitated
heads of his enemies--or in other words, people who differed in
their opinion from him or whom he did not like (a friend of ours
afterward saw this _moniap_ with its grisly decoration of skulls).
No missionaries and no white people are allowed on Tembinoka's
islands (he rules over three) with the exception of Johnny, an
inoffensive, dying "poor white," who lives some four miles from the
village. We did not know in the least whether we should be allowed
to remain, and waited with some anxiety for the appearance of his
Majesty. In the meantime the whole ship was in a commotion, scouring
the decks and getting everything into apple-pie order. I did not
know that the _Equator_ could be brought to such a pitch of
cleanliness. Finally the King's steps arrived, were made fast to the
sides, and the royal boat was seen to put out. We thought it more
dignified to remain in the cabin and show none of the curiosity we
felt concerning this very remarkable man. We had been told
that he was grossly stout, and that was all the description we had
been able to get from the stupid people we had talked with;
consequently, we were not prepared to meet the most magnificently
royal personage that it has yet been our lot to behold, a gentleman
by nature and a king every inch of him. He gave us a long and
careful study; afterward he said it was first the eyes and then the
mouth he judged by. We passed muster, Louis's eyes being specially
commended, and were told to come ashore and remain as long as we
liked as his guests. The next day we chose a spot where we thought
it would be pleasant to live, and Tembinoka ordered his men to carry
houses and set them up there for us. The captain and Lloyd stayed at
the King's palace all night; the next morning they were alarmed to
see Tembinoka shooting into the village with a rifle. He explained
that his men were lazy and should be at work, so he was reminding
them that accidents were possible. The whole trembling village set
to work like bees, and by the time I came over, one sleeping house
was up, a little thatched bird-cage with flaps on all sides to raise
or lower as one likes, and an opensided cook house for Ah Foo (a
Chinese servant we brought from the Marquesas). The King
sat on a mat and directed proceedings. He motioned me to sit beside
him and asked for a cigarette, of which he is very fond. Whenever a
native has to pass the King, or come near him for any purpose, he
must crouch and crawl; even his Majesty's own sister did so when she
came to join our party.
* * * * *
We have had a little ripple of excitement on the usually smooth
current of our existence. To go back to the beginning: Soon after we
were settled in "Equator town," as we call our hamlet, the King
proposed sending the royal cook to learn from Ah Foo. The man was an
insolent, handsome fellow, with no intention of either learning or
working, and either lay on the floor of the kitchen or squatted
smoking, while Ah Foo, who was in mortal terror of Tembinoka,
prepared the dishes which the royal cook, without doubt, passed off
as his own productions. This went on for some time, and as the
King's meal hours are the same as our own, interfered a good deal
with Ah Foo's work and consequently our comfort. The climax was
reached when the cook, too lazy to walk down to the well for a can
of water for himself, came softly behind me as I was watering my
plants and impudently snatched a dipperful from my pail. We then
took the first opportunity to let the King know how things
were going, advising him to send a man who was willing to learn.
Since then his Majesty's steward, a capable, serious man, has
accompanied the cook. Shortly after our complaint we heard several
rifle-shots from the palace, and soon after met the cook, who
passed us hurriedly, without the usual salutations, his countenance
bearing the marks of furious anger and fear. It seems that he had
been the King's target, running and crouching behind piles of
stones, the bullets flying after him. Tembinoka came over a few days
later and apologised for having possibly alarmed or annoyed us. He
said he had no intention of killing the man, which he might have
done easily, being a dead shot, but only wished to frighten him. He
said he had killed enough people to show the rest what he could do,
but thought it a good plan to remind them occasionally that he had
a rifle and the power to use it as he pleased. "More better him
'praid" (afraid), were his words. As may be imagined, the cook bears
us no good will, knowing that our complaints had turned that fearful
rifle against him. However, he dropped his insolent airs and became
almost obsequious.
* * * * *