Black Tom's “hell” was one of the institutions of Samoa. And not
an unpleasant hell to look at--a long, rambling, one-storeyed,
white-painted wooden building, hidden on the beach side from ships
entering Apia Harbour by a number of stately cocoanuts; and as you came
upon it from the palm-shaded track that led from the brawling little
Vaisigago towards the sweeping curve of Matautu Point, the blaze of
scarlet hibiscus growing within the white-paled garden fence gave
to this sailors' low drinking-den an inviting appearance of sweetest
Arcadian simplicity.
That was nineteen years ago. If you walk along the Matautu path now and
ask a native to show you where Tom's house stood, he will point to a
smooth, grass-covered bank extending from the right-hand side of the
path to the coarse, black sand of Matautu beach. And, although many of
the present white residents of the Land of the Treaty Powers have heard
or Black Tom, only a few grizzled old traders and storekeepers, relics
of the bygone lively days, can talk to you about that grim deed of one
quiet night in September.
*****
Tamasi Uliuli (Black Thomas), as he was called by the natives, had come
to Samoa in the fifties, and, after an eventful and varied experience in
other portions of the group, had settled down to business in Matautu
as a publican, baker and confectioner, butcher, seamen's crimp, and
interpreter. You might go all over the Southern States, from St.
Augustine to Galveston, and not meet ten such splendid specimens of
negro physique and giant strength as this particular coloured gentleman.
Tom had married a Samoan woman--Inusia--who had borne him three
children, two daughters and one son. Of this latter I have naught to
say here, save that the story of _his_ short life and tragic end is one
common enough to those who have had any experience of a trader's life
among the betel-chewing savages of fever-haunted New Britain. And the
eldest daughter may also “stand out” of this brief tale.
*****
Luisa was black. There was no doubt about that. But she was also comely;
and her youthful, lissom figure as she walked with springy step to the
bathing-place at the Vaisigago gave her a striking individuality among
the lighter-coloured Samoan girls who accompanied her. Yet to all of us
who lived in Matautu the greatest charms of this curly-haired half-caste
were the rich, sweet voice and gay laugh that brightened up her
dark-hued countenance as we passed her on the path and returned her
cheerful “Talofa, _alii!_” with some merry jest. And, although none of
us had any inclination to go into her father's pub. and let _him_ serve
us with a bottle of Pilsener, Luisa's laughing face and curly head
generally had attraction enough to secure, in the course of the day,
a good many half-dollars for the 50lb. beef-keg which was Black Tom's
treasury.
*****
It gave us a shock one day to see Luisa emerging from the mission chapel
with a white-haired old man by her side--married. The matter had been
arranged very quietly. For about two months previously this ancient had
been one of Black Tom's boarders. He was from New Zealand, and had come
to Samoa to invest his money in trade, and being, perhaps, of a retiring
and quiet disposition the sight of Mr. Thomas Tilton's innocent-looking
dwelling attracted him thither. Anyhow, old Dermott remained there, and
it was noticeable that, from the day of his arrival, Tamasi Uliuli
exacted the most rigid performance of morning and evening devotions by
his family, and that the nightly scenes of riot and howling drunkenness,
that had theretofore characterised the “hotel,” had unaccountably toned
down. In fact, burly old Alvord, the consular interpreter, who had been
accustomed to expostulate with Tom for the number of prostrate figures,
redolent of bad rum, lying outside on the path in the early morning,
showing by the scarcity of their attire that they had been “gone
through” by thieving natives, expressed the opinion that Tom was either
going mad, or “was getting consairned” about his sinful soul.
*****
The knowledge of the fact that old Dermott had so much worldly wealth
stowed away in his camphor-wood trunk, may have had (doubtless it did)
the effect of causing this remarkable change in Tom's daily conduct.
Dermott, in his way, was sourly religious; and, although not
understanding a word of Samoan, was fond of attending the native church
at Apia--always in the wake of Luisa, Toe-o-le-Sasa, and other young
girls. His solemn, wrinkled visage, with deep-set eyes, ever steadily
fixed upon the object of his affection, proved a source of much
diversion to the native congregation, and poor Luisa was subjected to
the usual Samoan jests about the _toe'ina_ and _ulu tula_ (old man and
bald head), and would arrive from the church at her father's hell in a
state of suppressed exasperation.
The happy marriage had been celebrated by Tom and his _clientèle_ in a
manner befitting the occasion and the supposed wealth of the bridegroom,
Then none of us saw Luisa for a week at the bathing-place, and her
non-appearance was discussed with interest at the nightly kava-drinking
at half-caste Johnny Hall's public-house. Old Toi'foi, duenna of the
kava-chewing girls, used to say solemnly that the old man had Luisa
locked up in her room as she was _vale_ (obstinate), and sat on a chair
outside and looked at her through a hole in the wall.
*****
An hour after midnight on one of those silent tropic nights when naught
is heard but the muffled boom of the ocean swell on the outer reef, a
shot rang out through the sleeping village, and then a long wail as of
some one in mortal agony or terror. Léger, the Canadian carpenter at
Macfarlane's store, was, in company with Alvord the Swearer, and Pedro
the Publican, and marry of us general sinners, up late at the kava-bowl
when Leva, the prettiest girl on the Point, and the most notorious
_nymphe du beach_ in Apia (there are no pavements in Samoa), dashed in
amongst its with the announcement that “Luisa was dead.” In another
ten seconds we kava-drinkers, with unsteady legs but clear heads, were
outside on our way to Black Tom's house, which was within pistol-shot.
*****
An old man with a throat cut from ear to ear is not a cheerful sight
at any time, and we turned quickly away from where he lay on the once
spotless white bed, now an ensanguined horror, to look at poor Luisa,
who lay on a mat on the floor, gasping out her brief young life. Her
head was pillowed on her mother's bosom, and down her side the blood
ran from the jagged bullet-hole. On a chair sat the herculean figure
of Black Tom with his face in his hands, through which splashed heavy
tears. Slowly he rocked himself to and fro in the manner of his race
when strongly moved; and when he tried to speak there only struck upon
our ears a horrible gasping noise that somehow made us turn again to the
awful thing on the bed to see if it had aught to say upon the matter.
*****
Luisa spoke but little. The kind-faced, quiet-voiced missionary doctor
told her that which she already knew too well; and then we drew away
while he spoke of other things, and we saw the look of dread and horror
on the comely young face pass away and a faint smile part the lips that
were already touched by the grim shadow of coming dissolution. Some of
her village playmates and companions, with wet cheeks, bent their faces
and touched her lips with theirs, and to each she sighed a low _To Fa_
of farewell, and then she looked toward the shaking bent figure in the
chair and beckoned him over. With noiseless tread he came, and then,
with her very soul looking at him from her great, death-stricken eyes,
she murmured, “Fear not, my father, my mouth is covered by the hand of
Death; farewell!” *****
The sound of the soft lapping of the falling tide came through the open
window as Luisa spoke again to Toë-o-le-Sasa, the Maid of Apia--“E Toe,
_e pae afea te tai_?” (“When is the tide out?”) And the girl answered
with a sob in her throat, “In quite a little while, O friend of my
heart.”
“_Ua lelei_. (It is well.) And as the waters run out so does my soul
float away!” and she turned her face to her mother's bosom. And as we
went softly out from the room and stood upon the path with the lofty
palm-plumes rustling above us, we saw the first swirling wave of the
incoming tide ripple round Matautu Point and plash on Hamilton's beach.
And from within the silent house answered the wail of Death.