CHAPTER I

* * * * *

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* * * * *

_By_ ROCK & POOL

On An Austral Shore

_By_ LOUIS BECKE

AUTHOR OF "PACIFIC TALES,"

"BY REEF AND PALM," ETC., ETC.

New Amsterdam Book Company

156 FIFTH AVENUE: NEW YORK CITY: MCMI

CONTENTS

BY ROCK AND POOL

SOLEPA

THE FISHER FOLK OF NUKUFETAU

MRS. MACLAGGAN'S BILLY

AN ISLAND MEMORY

A HUNDRED FATHOMS DEEP

ON A TIDAL RIVER

DENISON GETS ANOTHER SHIP

JACK SHARK'S PILOT

THE "PALU" OF THE EQUATORIAL PACIFIC

THE WILY "GOANNER"

THE TA~NIFA OF SAMOA

ON BOARD THE _TUCOPIA_

THE MAN IN THE BUFFALO HIDE

* * * * *

A CRUISE IN THE SOUTH SEAS--HINTS TO INTENDING TRAVELLERS

_By Rock and Pool on an Austral Shore_

The quaint, old-fashioned little town faces eastward to the blue

Pacific, whose billows, when the wind blows from any point between north

and east, come tumbling in across the shallow bar in ceaseless lines of

foaming white, to meet, when the tide is on the ebb, the swift current

of a tidal river as broad as the Thames at Westminster Bridge. On the

south side of the bar, from the sleepy town itself to the pilot station

on the Signal Hill, there rises a series of smooth grassy bluffs, whose

seaward bases touch the fringe of many small beaches, or start sheer

upward from the water when the tide is high, and the noisy swish and

swirl of the eager river current has ceased.

As you stand on the Signal Hill, and look along the coast, you see a

long, long monotonous line of beach, trending northward ten miles from

end to end, forming a great curve from the sandspit on the north side of

the treacherous bar to the blue loom of a headland in shape like the

figure of a couchant lion. Back from the shore-line, a narrow littoral

of dense scrub, impervious to the rays of the sun, and unbroken in its

solitude except by the cries of birds, or the heavy footfall of wild

cattle upon the thick carpet of fallen leaves; and then, far to the

west, the dimmed, shadowy outline of the main coastal range.

* * * * *

It is a keen, frosty morning in June--the midwinter of Australia--and as

the red sun bursts through the sea-rim, a gentle land breeze creeps

softly down from the mountain forest of gums and iron-barks, and blows

away the mists that, all through a night of cloudless calm, have laid

heavily upon the surface of the sleeping ocean. One by one the doors of

the five little white-painted, weather-boarded houses which form the

quarters of the pilot-boat's crew open, and five brown, hairy-faced men,

each smoking a pipe, issue forth, and, hands in pockets, scan the

surface of the sea from north to south, for perchance a schooner, trying

to make the port, may have been carried along by the current from the

southward, and is within signalling distance to tell her whether the bar

is passable or not. For the bar of the Port is as changeable in its

moods as the heart of a giddy maid to her lovers--to-day it may invite

you to come in and take possession of its placid waters in the harbour

beyond; to-morrow it may roar and snarl with boiling surf and savage,

eddying currents, and whirlpools slapping fiercely against the grim,

black rocks of the southern shore.

Look at the five men as they stand or saunter about on the smooth,

frosty grass. They are sailormen--one and all--as you can see by their

walk and hear by their talk; rough, ready, and sturdy, though not so

sturdy nor so square-built as your solid men of brave old Deal; but a

long way better in appearance and character than the sponging,

tip-seeking, loafing fraternity of slouching, lazy robbers who on the

parades of Brighton, Hastings, and Eastbourne, and other fashionable

seaside resorts in this country, lean against lamp-posts with "Licensed

Boatman" writ on their hat-bands, and call themselves fishermen, though

they seldom handle a herring or cod that does not come from a

fishmonger's shop. These Australians of British blood are leaner in

face, leaner in limb than the Kentish men, and drink whiskey instead of

coffee or tea at early morn. But see them at work in the face of danger

and death on that bar, when the surf is leaping high and a schooner lies

broadside on and helpless to the sweeping rollers, and you will say that

a more undaunted crew never gripped an oar to rescue a fellow-sailorman

from the hungry sea.

One of them, a grey-haired, deeply-bronzed man of sixty, with his neck

and hands tatooed in strange markings, imprinted thereon by the hands of

the wild natives of Tucopia, in the South Seas, with whom he has lived

forty years before as one of themselves, is mine own particular friend

and crony, for his two sons have been playmates with my brothers and

myself, who were all born in this quaint old-time seaport of the first

colony in Australia; this forgotten remnant of the dread days of the

awful convict system, when the clank of horrible gyves sounded on the

now deserted and grass-grown streets, and the swish of the hateful and

ever active "cat" was heard within the walls of the huge red-brick

prison on the bluff facing the sea. Oh, the old, old memories of those

hideous times! How little they wounded or troubled our boyish minds, as

we, bent on some fishing or hunting venture along the coast, walked

along a road which had been first soddened by tears and then dried by

the panting, anguished breathings of beings fashioned in the image of

their Creator, as they toiled and died under the brutal hands of their

savage task-masters--the civilian officials of that cruel "System"

which, by the irony of fate, the far-seeing, gentle, and tender-hearted

Arthur Phillip, the founder of Australia, was first appointed to

administer.

But away with such memories for the moment. Over the lee side with them

into the Sea of the Past, together with the clank of the fetters and the

hum of the cat and the merciless laws of the time; sink them all

together with the names of the military rum-selling traducers of the

good Phillip, and of ill-tempered, passionate sailor Bligh of the

_Bounty_--honest, brave, irascible, vindictive; destroyer of his ship's

company on that fateful adventure to Tahiti, hero of the most famous

boat-voyage the world has ever known; sea-bully and petty "hazer" of

hapless Fletcher Christian and his comrades, gallant officer in battle

and thanked by Nelson at Copenhagen; conscientious governor of a

starveling colony gasping under the hands of unscrupulous military

money-makers, William Bligh deserves to be remembered by all men of

English blood who are proud of the annals of the most glorious navy in

the world.

* * * * *

But ere we descend to the beach to wander by rock and pool in this

glowing Australian sun, the warm, loving rays of which are fast drying

the frost-coated grass, let us look at these square, old-time monuments

to the dead, placed on the Barrack Hill, and overlooking the sea. There

are four in all, but around them are many low, sunken headstones of

lichen-covered slabs, the inscriptions on which, like many of those on

the stones in the cemetery by the reedy creek, have long since vanished.

There, indeed, if you care to brave the snake-haunted place you will

discover a word, or the part of a word--"Talav----," "Torre----Vedras,"

"Vimiera," or "Badaj----," or "Fuentes de On----," and you know that

underneath lies the dust of men who served their country well when the

Iron Duke was rescuing Europe from the grip of the bloodstained

Corsican. On one, which for seventy years has faced the rising sun and

the salty breath of the ocean breeze, there remains but the one glorious

word, "Aboukir!" every indented letter thickly filled with grey moss and

lichen, though the name of he who fought there has disappeared, and

being but that of some humble seaman, is unrecorded and unknown in the

annals of his country. How strange it seems! but yet how fitting that

this one word alone should be preserved by loving Nature from the

decaying touch of Time. Perhaps the very hand of the convict mason who

held the chisel to the stone struck deeper as he carved the letters of

the name of the glorious victory.

But let us away from here; for in the hot summer months amid these

neglected and decaying memorials of the dead, creeping and crawling in

and out of the crumbling masonry of the tombs, gliding among the long,

reedy grass, or lying basking in the sun upon the fallen headstones, are

deadly black and brown snakes. They have made this old, time-forgotten

cemetery their own favourite haunting place; for the waters of the creek

are near, and on its margin they find their prey. Once, so the shaky old

wharfinger will tell you, a naval lieutenant, who had been badly wounded

in the first Maori war, died in the commandant's house. He was buried

here on the bank of the creek, and one day his young wife who had come

from England to nurse him and found him dead, sat down on his grave and

went to sleep. When she awoke, a great black snake was lying on her

knees. She died that day from the shock.

The largest of these four monuments on the bluff stands nearest to the

sea, and the inscription on the heavy flat slab of sandstone which

covers it is fairly legible:--

Sacred to the Memory of

JAMES VAUGHAN,

Who was a Private in Captain

Fraser Allan's Company

of the 40th Regiment,

Who died on the 24th November, 1823,

of a Gunshot Wound Received

on the 20th Day of the Month,

when in Pursuit of a

Runaway Convict.

Aged 25 years.

The others record the names of the "infant son and daughters of Mr. G.

Smith, Commissariat Storekeeper," and of "Edward Marvin, who died 4th

July, 1821, aged 21 years."

Many other sunken headstones denote the last resting-places of soldiers

and sailors, and civilian officials, who died between 1821 and 1830,

when the little port was a thriving place, and when, as the old gossips

will tell you, it made a "rare show, when the Governor came here, and

Major Innes--him as brought that cussed lantana plant from the

Peninsula--sent ninety mounted men to escort him to Lake Innes."

* * * * *

The tide is low, and the flat _congewoi_-covered ledges of reef on the

southern side of the bar lie bare and exposed to the sun. Here and there

in the crystal pools among the rocks, fish have been left by the tide,

and as you step over the _congewoi_, whose teats spurt out jets of

water to the pressure of your foot, large silvery bream and gaily-hued

parrot-fish rush off and hide themselves from view. But tear off a piece

of _congewoi,_ open it, and throw the sanguinary-coloured delicacy into

the water, and presently you will see the parrot-fish dart out eagerly,

and begin to tear it asunder with their long, irregular, and needle-like

teeth, whilst the more cautious and lordly bream, with wary eye and

gentle, undulating tail, watch from underneath a ledge for a favourable

moment to dash out and secure a morsel.

In some of the wider and shallower ponds are countless thousands of

small mullet, each about three or four inches in length, and swimming

closely together in separated but compact battalions. Some, as the sound

of a human footstep warns them of danger, rush for safety among the

submerged clefts and crevices of their temporary retreat, only to be

mercilessly and fatally enveloped by the snaky, viscous tentacles of the

ever-lurking octopus, for every hole and pool among the rocks contains

one or more of these hideously repulsive creatures.

Sometimes you will see one crawling over the _congewoi_, changing from

one pool to another in search of prey; its greeny-grey eyes regard you

with defiant malevolence. Strike it heavily with a stick, or thrust it

through with a spear, and in an instant its colour, which a moment

before was either a dark mottled brown or a mingled reddish-black,

changes to a ghastly, horrible, marbled grey; the horrid tentacles

writhe and cling to the weapon, or spread out and adhere to the

surrounding points of rock, a black, inky fluid is ejected from the

soft, pulpy, and slimy body; and then, after raining blow after blow

upon it, it lies unable to crawl away, but still twisting and turning,

and showing its red and white suckers--a thing of horror indeed, the

embodiment of all that is hateful, wicked, and malignant in nature.

Some idea of the numbers of these crafty and savage denizens of the

limpid pools may be obtained by dropping a baited fishing line in one of

the deeper spots. First you will see one, and then another, thin end of

a tentacle come waveringly out from underneath a ledge of rock, and

point towards the bait, then the rest of the ugly creature follows, and

gathering itself together, darts upon the hook, for the possession of

which half a dozen more of its fellows are already advancing, either

swimming or by drawing themselves over the sandy bottom of the pool.

Deep buried in the sand itself is another, a brute which may weigh ten

or fifteen pounds, and which would take all the strength of a strong man

to overcome were its loathsome tentacles clasped round his limbs in

their horrid embrace. Only part of the head and the half-closed,

tigerish eyes are visible, and even these portions are coated over with

fine sand so as to render them almost undistinguishable from the bed in

which it lies awaiting for some careless crab or fish to come within

striking distance. How us boys delighted to destroy these big fellows

when we came across one thus hidden in the sand or _débris_ on the

bottom! A quick thrust of the spear through the tough, elongated head,

a vision of whirling, outspread, red and black snaky tentacles, and then

the thing is dragged out by main strength and dashed down upon the

rocks, to be struck with waddies or stones until the spear can be

withdrawn. Everything, it is said, has its use in this world, and the

octopus is eminently useful to the Australian line fisherman, for the

bream, trevally, flathead, jew-fish, and the noble schnapper dearly love

its tough, white flesh, especially after the creature has been held over

a flame for a few minutes, so that the mottled skin may be peeled off.

But treacherous and murderous Thug of the Sea as he is, the octopus has

one dreaded foe before whom he flees in terror, and compresses his body

into the narrowest and most inaccessible cleft or endeavours to bury

himself in the loose, soft sand--and that foe is the orange-coloured or

sage-green rock eel. Never do you see one of these eels in the open

water; they lie deep under the stones or twine their lithe, slippery

bodies among the waving kelp or seaweed. Always hungry, savage-eyed, and

vicious, they know no fear of any living thing, and seizing an octopus

and biting off tentacle after tentacle with their closely-set,

needle-like teeth and swallowing it whole is a matter of no more moment

to them than the bolting of a tender young mullet or bream. In vain does

the Sea Thug endeavour to enwrap himself round and round the body of one

of these sinuous, scaleless sea-snakes and fasten on to it with his

terrible cupping apparatus of suckers--the eel slips in and out and

"wolfs" and worries his enemy without the slightest harm to itself.

Some of them are large--especially the orange-coloured variety--three or

four feet in length, and often one will raise his snaky head apparently

out of solid rock and regard you steadily for a moment. Then he

disappears. You advance cautiously to the spot and find a hole no larger

than the circumference of an afternoon tea cup, communicating with the

water beneath. Lower a baited hook with a strong wire snooding, and

"Yellowskin" will open wide his jaws and swallow it without your feeling

the slightest movement of the line. But you must be quick and strong of

hand then, or you will never drag him forth, for slippery as he is he

can coil his length around a projecting bit of rock and defy you for

perhaps five or ten minutes; and then when you do succeed in tearing him

away and pull him out with the hook buried deep in his loose, pendulous,

wrinkled and corduroyed throat, he instantly resolves himself into a

quivering Gordian knot, winding the line in and about his coils and

knotting it into such knots that can never be unravelled.

Here and there you will see lying buried deep in the growing coral, or

covered with black masses of _congewoi_ such things as iron and copper

bolts, or heavy pieces of squared timber, the relics of the many wrecks

that have occurred on the bar--some recent, some in years long gone by.

Out there, lying wedged in between the weed and kelp-covered boulders,

only visible at low water, are two of the guns of the ill-fated

_Wanderer_, a ship, like her owner, famous in the history of the

colony. She was the property of a Mr. Benjamin Boyd, a man of flocks and

herds and wealth, who founded a town and a great whaling station on the

shores of Twofold Bay, where he employed some hundreds of men, bond and

free. He was of an adventurous and restless disposition, and after

making several voyages to the South Seas, was cruelly cut off and

murdered by the cannibal natives of Guadalcanar in the Solomon Islands,

in the "fifties." The captain, after beating off the savages, who,

having killed poor Boyd on shore, made a determined attempt to capture

the ship, set sail for Australia, and in endeavouring to cross in over

the bar went ashore and became a total wreck. Here is a description

written by Judge McFarland of the _Wanderer_ as she was in those days

when Boyd dreamed a dream of founding a Republic in the South Sea

Islands with his wild crew of Polynesians and a few white fellow

adventurers:--

"She was of 240 tons burthen; very fleet, and had a flush deck; and her

cabins were fitted up with every possible attention to convenience, and

with great elegance; and had she been intended as a war craft, she could

scarcely have been more powerfully armed, for she carried four brass

deck-guns--two six-pounders and two four-pounders--mounted on carriages

resembling dolphins, four two-pounder rail guns--two on each side--and

one brass twelve-pounder traversing gun (which had seen service at

Waterloo)--in all thirteen serviceable guns. Besides these, there were

two small, highly-ornamented guns used for firing signals, which were

said to have been obtained from the wreck of the _Royal George_ at

Spithead. There were also provided ample stores of round shot and grape

for the guns, and a due proportion of small arms, boarding pikes,

tomahawks, &c."

Half a mile further on, and we are under the Signal Hill, and standing

on one side of a wide, flat rock, through which a boat passage has been

cut by convict hands, when first the white tents of the soldiers were

seen on the Barrack Hill. And here, at this same spot, more than a

hundred years ago, and thirty before the sound of the axe was first

heard amid the forest or tallow-woods and red gum, there once landed a

strange party of sea-worn, haggard-faced beings--six men, one woman, and

two infant children. They were the unfortunate Bryant party--whose

wonderful and daring voyage from Sydney to Timor in a wretched,

ill-equipped boat, ranks second only to that of Bligh himself. For Will

Bryant, an ex-smuggler who was leader, had heard of Bligh's voyage in

the boat belonging to the _Bounty_; and fired with the desire to escape

with his wife and children from the famine-stricken community on the

shores of Port Jackson, he and his companions in servitude stole a small

fishing-boat and boldly put to sea to face a journey of more that three

thousand miles over an unknown and dangerous ocean. A few weeks after

leaving Sydney they had sighted this little nook when seeking refuge

from a fierce north-easterly gale, and here they remained for many days,

so that the woman and children might gain strength and the seams of the

leaking boat be payed with tallow--their only substitute for oakum.

Then onward they sailed or rowed, for long, long weary weeks, landing

here and there on the coast to seek for water and shell-fish, harried

and chased by cannibal savages, suffering all the agonies that could be

suffered on such a wild venture, until they reached Timor, only by a

strange and unhappy fate to fall into the hands of the brutal and

infamous Edwards of the _Pandora_ frigate, who with his wrecked ship's

company, and the surviving and manacled mutineers of the _Bounty_, who

had surrendered to him, soon afterwards appeared at the Dutch port.

Bryant, the daring leader, was so fortunate as to die of fever, and so

escaped the fate in store for his comrades. 'Tis a strange story indeed.

* * * * *

At the end of the point of brown, rugged rocks which form a natural

breakwater to this tiny boat harbour, the water is deep, showing a pale

transparent green at their base, and deep inpenetrable blue ten fathoms

beyond. To-day, because it is mid-winter, and the wind blows from the

west, the sea is clearer than ever, and far down below will be discerned

lazily swimming to and fro great reddish-brown or bright blue groper,

watching the dripping sides of the rock in hope that some of the active,

gaily-hued crabs which scurry downwards as you approach may fall in--for

the blue groper is a _gourmet_, disdaining to eat of his own tribe, and

caring only for crabs or the larger and more luscious crayfish. Stand

here when the tide is high and the surf is sweeping in creamy sheets

over the lower ledges of rocks; and as the water pours off torrent-like

from the surface and leaves them bare, you may oft behold a huge

fish--aye, or two or three--lying kicking on its side with a young

crayfish in its thick, fleshy jaws, calmly waiting for the next sea to

set him afloat again. Brave fellows are these gropers--forty, fifty, up

to seventy pounds sometimes, and dangerous fish to hook in such a place

as this, where a false step may send a man headlong into the surf below

with his line tangled round his feet or arms. But on such a morning as

this one might fall overboard and come to no harm, for the sea is

smooth, and the kelp sways but gently to the soft rise and fall of the

water, and seldom in these cold days of June does Jack Shark cruise in

under the lee of the rocks. It is in November, hot, sweltering November,

when the clinking sand of the shining beach is burning to the booted

foot, and the countless myriads of terrified sea salmon come swarming in

over the bar on their way to spawn in the river beyond, that he and his

fellows and the bony-snouted saw-fish rush to and fro in the shallow

waters, driving their prey before them, and gorging as they drive, till

the clear waters of the bar are turned into a bloodied froth. At such a

time as this it might be bad to fall overboard, though some of the local

youths give but little more heed to the tigers of the sea than they do

to the accompanying drove of harmless porpoises, which join in the

onslaught on the hapless salmon.

A mile eastward from the shore there rises stark and clear a great

dome-shaped rock, the haunt and resting-place of thousands of

snow-white gulls and brown-plumaged boobies. The breeding-place of the

former is within rifle-shot--over there on that long stretch of

banked-up sand on the north side of the bar, where, amid the shelter of

the coarse, tufted grass the delicate, graceful creatures will sit three

months hence on their fragile white and purple-splashed eggs. The

boobies are but visitors, for their breeding-places are on the bleak,

savage islands far to the south, amid the snows and storms of black

Antarctic seas. But here they dwell together, in unison with the gulls,

and were the wind not westerly you could hear their shrill cries and

hoarse croaking as they wheel and eddy and circle above the lonely rock,

on the highest pinnacle of which a great fish-eagle, with neck thrown

back upon his shoulders and eyes fixed eastward to the sun, stands

oblivious of their clamour, as creatures beneath his notice.

Once round the southern side of the Signal Hill the noise of the bar is

lost. Between the hill and the next point--a wild, stern-looking

precipice of black-trap rock--there lies a half a mile or more of

shingly strand, just such as you would see at Pevensey Bay or Deal, but

backed up at high-water mark with piles of drift timber--great dead

trees that have floated from the far northern rivers, their mighty

branches and netted roots bleached white by the sun and wind of many

years, and smelling sweet of the salty sea air. Mingled with the lighter

bits of driftwood and heaps of seaweed are the shells of hundreds of

crayfish--some of the largest are newly cast up by the sea, and the

carapace is yellow and blue; others are burnt red by exposure to the

sun; while almost at every step you crush into the thin backs and

armoured tails of young ones about a foot in length, the flesh of which,

by some mysterious process of nature, has vanished, leaving the skin,

muscles, and beautiful fan-like tail just as fresh as if the crustaceans

were alive. Just here, out among those kelp-covered rocks, you may, on a

moonlight night, catch as many crayfish as you wish--three of them will

be as much as any one would care to carry a mile, for a large,

full-grown "lobster," as they are called locally, will weigh a good ten

pounds.

Once round the precipice we come to a new phase of coastal scenery. From

the high land above us green scrub-covered spur after spur shoots

downward to the shore, enclosing numerous little beaches of coarse sand

and many coloured spiral shells--"Reddies" we boys called them--with

here and there a rare and beautiful cowrie of banded jet black and

pearly white. The sea-wall of rock has here but few pools, being split

up into long, deep, and narrow chasms, into which the gentle ocean swell

comes with strange gurglings and hissings, and groan-like sounds, and

tiny jets of spray spout up from hundreds of air-holes through the

hollow crust of rock. Here for the first time since the town was left,

are heard the cries of land birds; for in the wild apple and rugged

honeysuckle trees which grow on the rich, red soil of the spurs they are

there in plenty--crocketts, king parrots, leatherheads, "butcher" and

"bell" birds, and the beautiful bronze-wing pigeon--while deep within

the silent gullies you constantly hear the little black scrub wallabies

leaping through the undergrowth and fallen leaves, to hide in still

darker forest recesses above.

There are snakes here, too. Everywhere their sinuous tracks are visible

on the sand, criss-crossing with the more defined scratchy markings of

those of iguanas. The latter we know come down to carry off any dead

fish cast ashore by the waves, or to seize any live ones which may be

imprisoned in a shallow pool; but what brings the deadly brown and black

snakes down to the edge of _salt_ water at night time?

Point after point, tiny bay after bay, and then we come to a wider

expanse of clear, stoneless beach, at the farther end of which a huge

boulder of jagged, yellow rock, covered on the summit with a thick

mantle of a pale green, fleshly-leaved creeper, bearing a pink flower.

It stands in a deep pool about a hundred yards in circumference, and as

like as not we shall find the surface of the water covered by thousands

of green-backed, red-billed garfish and silvery mullet, whose very

numbers prevent them from escaping. Scores of them leap out upon the

sand, and lie there with panting gill and flapping tail. It is a great

place for us boys, for here at low tides in the winter we strip off, and

with naked hands catch the mullet and gars and silvery-sided trumpeters,

and throw them out on the beach, to be grilled later on over a fire of

glowing honeysuckle cobs, and eaten without salt. What boy does care

about such a thing as salt at such times, when his eye is bright and his

skin glows with the flush of health, and the soft murmuring of the sea

is mingling in his ears with the thrilling call of the birds, and the

rustling hum of the bush; and the yellow sun shines down from a glorious

sky of cloudless blue, and dries the sand upon his naked feet; and the

very joy of being alive, and away from school, is happiness enough in

itself!

For here, by rock and pool on this lonely Austral beach, it is good and

sweet for man or boy to be, and, if but in utter idleness, to watch and

listen--and think.

_Solepa_

The last strokes of the bell for evening service had scarce died away

when I heard a footstep on the pebbly path, and old Pâkía, staff in hand

and pipe dangling from his pendulous ear-lobe, walked quietly up the

steps and sat down cross-legged on the verandah. All my own people had

gone to church and the house was very quiet.

"Good evening, Pâkía," I said in English, "how are you, old man?"

A smile lit up the brown, old, wrinkled face as he heard my voice--for I

was lying down in the sitting-room, smoking my after-supper pipe--as he

answered in the island dialect that he was well, but that his house was

in darkness and he, being lonely, had come over to sit with me awhile.

"That is well, Pâkía, for I too am lonely, and who so good as thee to

talk with when the mind is heavy and the days are long, and no sail

cometh up from the sea-rim? Come, sit here within the doorway, for the

night wind is chill; and fill thy pipe."

He came inside as I rose and turned up the lamp so that its light shone

full on his bald, bronzed head and deeply tatooed arms and shoulders.

Laying down his polished staff of _temana_ wood, he came over to me,

placed his hand on my arm, patted it gently, and then his kindly old

eyes sought mine.

"Be not dull of heart, _taka taina_.[1] A ship will soon come--it may be

to-morrow; it must be soon; for twice have I heard the cocks crow at

midnight since I was last here, three days ago. And when the cocks crow

at night-time a ship is near."

"May it be so, Pâkía, for I am weary of waiting. Ten months have come

and gone since I first put foot on this land of Nukufetau, and a ship

was to have come here in four."

He filled his pipe, then drawing a small mat near my lounge, he squatted

on the floor, and we smoked in silence, listening to the gentle lapping

of the lagoon waters upon the inner beach and the beating, never-ceasing

hum of the surf on the reef beyond. Overhead the branches of the palms

swayed and rustled to the night-breeze.

Presently, as I turned to look seaward, I caught the old man's dark eyes

fixed upon my face, and in them I read a sympathy that at that time and

place was grateful to me.

"Six months is long for one who waits, Pâkía," I said. "I came here but

to stay four months and trade for copra; then the ship was to call and

take me to Ponapé, in the far north-west. And Ponapé is a great land to

such a man as me."

"_Etonu! Etonu!_ I know it. Thrice have I been there when I sailed in

the whaleships. A great land truly, like the island called Juan

Fernandez, of which I have told thee, with high mountains green to the

summits with trees, and deep, dark valleys wherein the sound of the sea

is never heard but when the surf beats hard upon the reef. Ah! a fine

land--better than this poor _motu_, which is as but a ring of sand set

in the midst of the deep sea. Would that I were young to go there with

thee! Tell me, dost know the two small, high islands in the _ava_[2]

which is called Jakoits? Hast seen the graves of two white men there?"

"I know the islands well; but I have never seen the graves of any white

men there. Who were they, and when did they die?"

"Ah, I am a foolish old man. I forget how old I am. Perhaps, when thou

wert a child in thy mother's arms, the graves stood up out of the

greensward at the foot of the high cliff which faces to the south. Tell

me, is there not a high wall of rock a little way back from the landing

beach?... Aye!... that is the place ... and the bones of the men are

there, though now great trees may grow over the place. They were both

good men--good to look at, tall and strong; and they fought and died

there just under the cliff. I saw them die, for I was there with the

captain of my ship. We, and others with us, saw it all."

"Who were they, Pâkía, and how came they to fight?"

"One was a trader, whose name was Preston; he lived on the mainland of

Ponapé, where he had a great house and oil store and many servants. The

name of the other man was Frank. They fought because of a woman."

"Tell me the story, Pâkía. Thou hast seen many lands and many strange

things. And when ye come and sit and talk to me the dulness goeth away

from me and I no longer think of the ship; for of all the people on this

_motu_, to thee and Temana my servant alone do I talk freely. And Temana

is now at church."

The old man chuckled. "Aye, he is at church because Malepa, his wife, is

so jealous of him that she fears to leave him alone. Better would it

please him to be sitting here with us."

I drew the mat curtain across the sitting-room window so that we could

not be seen by prying eyes, and put two cups, a gourd of water, and some

brandy on the table. Except my own man, Temana, the rest of the natives

were intensely jealous of the poor old ex-sailor and wanderer in many

lands, and they very much resented his frequent visits to me--partly on

account of the occasional glass of grog which I gave him, and partly

because he was suspected of still being a _tagata po-uriuri, i.e._, a

heathen. This, however, he vigorously denied, and though Maréko, the

Samoan teacher, was a kind-hearted and tolerant man for a native

minister, the deacons delighted in persecuting and harassing the ancient

upon every possible opportunity, and upon one pretext or another had

succeeded in robbing him of his land and dividing it among his

relatives; so that now in his extreme old age he was dependent upon one

of his daughters, a woman who herself must have been past sixty.

I poured some brandy into the cups; we clicked them together and said,

"May you be lucky" to each other. Then he told me of Solepa.

* * * * *

"There were many whaleships came to anchor in the three harbours of

Ponapé in those days. They came there for wood and water and fresh

provisions, before they sailed to the cold, icy seas of the south. I was

then a boat-steerer in an English ship--a good and lucky ship with a

good captain. When we came to Ponapé we found there six other

whaleships, all anchored close together under the shelter of the two

islets. All the captains were friends, and the few white men who lived

on shore were friends with them, and every night there was much singing

and dancing on board the ships, for, as was the custom, every one on

board had been given a Ponapé girl for wife as long as his ship stayed

there; and sometimes a ship would be there a long time--a month perhaps.

"The trader who lived in the big house was one of the first to come on

board our ship; for the captain and he were good friends. They talked

together on the poop deck, and I heard the trader say that he had been

away to Honolulu for nearly a year and had brought back with him a young

wife.

"'Good,' said my captain, 'to-night I shall come ashore and drink

_manuia!_[3] to ye both.'

"The trader was pleased, and said that some of the other captains could

come also, and that he had sent a letter to the other trader, Frank, who

lived on the other side of the island, bidding him to come and greet the

new wife. At these words the face of Stacey--that was my captain's name,

became dark, and he said--

"'You are foolish. Such a man as he is, is better away from thy

house--and thy wife. He is a _manaia_, an _ulavale_[4]. Take heed of my

words and have no dealings with him.'

"But the man Preston only laughed. He was a fool in this though he was

so clever in many other things. He was a big man, broad in the shoulders

with the bright eye and the merry laugh of a boy. He had been a sailor,

but had wearied of the life, and so he bought land in Ponapé and became

a trader. He was a fair-dealing man with the people there, and so in

three or four years he became rich, and bought more land and built a

schooner which he sent away to far distant islands to trade for

pearl-shell and _loli_ (beche-de-mer). Then it was that he went to

Honolulu and came back with a wife.

"That day ere it became dark I went on shore with my captain; some of

the other captains went with us. The white man met them on the beach,

surrounded by many of his servants, male and female. Some were of

Ponapé, some from Tahiti, some from Oahu, and some from the place which

you call Savage Island and we call Niué. As soon as the captains had

stepped out upon the beach and I had bidden the four sailors who were

with me to push off to return to the ship, the trader, seeing the

tatooing on my arms, gave a shout.

"'Ho,' he cried, turning to my captain, 'whence comes that boat-steerer

of thine? By the markings on his arms and chest he should be from the

isles of the Tokelau.'

"My captain laughed. 'He comes from near there. He is of Nukufetau.'

"Then let him stay on shore to-night, for there are here with me a man

and a woman from Nanomaga; they can talk together. And my wife Solepa,

too, will be well pleased to see him, for her mother was a Samoan, and

this man can talk to her in her mother's tongue.'

"'So I too went up to the house with the white men, but would not enter

with them, for I was stripped to the waist and could not go into the

presence of the lady. Presently the man and woman from Nanomaga sought

me out and embraced me and made much of me and took me into another part

of the house, where I waited till one of my shipmates returned from the

ship bringing my jumper and trousers of white duck and a new Panama hat.

Ta|pa|! I was a fine-looking man in those days, and women looked at

me from the corner of the eye. And now--look at me now! I am like a

blind fish which is swept hither and thither by the current against the

rocks and sandbanks. Give me some more grog, dear friend; when I talk of

the days of my youth my belly yearns for it, and I am not ashamed to

beg.

"Presently, after I had dressed myself, I was taken by the Nanomea man

into the big room where Solepa, the white man's wife, was sitting with

the white men. She came to me and took my hand, and said to me in Samoan

_'Talofa, Pâkía, e ma|lolo| ea oe?'_[5] and my heart was glad; for

it was long since I heard any one speak in a tongue which is akin to

mine own.... Was she beautiful? you ask. Ta|pa|! All women are

beautiful when they are young, and their eyes are full and clear and

their voices are soft and their bosoms are round and smooth! All I can

remember of her is that she was very young, with a white, fair skin, and

dressed like the _papalagi_[6] women I have seen in Peretania and

Ita|lia and in Chili and in Sydney.

"As I stood before her, hat in hand and with my eyes looking downward,

which is proper and correct for a modest man to do when a high lady

speaks to him before many people, a white man who had been sitting at

the far end of the room came over to me and said some words of greeting

to me. This was Franka[7]--he whom my captain said was a _manaia_. He

was better clothed than any other of the white men, and was proud and

overbearing in his manner. He had brought with him more than a score of

young Ponapé men, all of whom carried rifles and had cutlasses strapped

to their waists. This was done to show the people of Jakoits that he was

as great a man as Preston, whom he hated, as you will see. But Preston

had naught for him but good words, and when he saw the armed men he bade

them welcome and set aside a house for them to sleep in, and his

servants brought them many baskets of cooked food--taro and yams, and

fish, turtle, and pork. All this I saw whilst I was in the big room.

"After I had spoken with the lady Solepa I returned to where the man

from Nanomaga and his wife were awaiting me. They pressed me to eat and

drink, and by and by sent for a young girl to make kava. Ta|pa|!

that kava of Ponapé! It is not made there as it is in Samoa--where the

young men and women chew the dried root and mix it in a wooden _tanoa_

(bowl); there the green root is crushed up in a hollowed stone and but

little water is added, so that it is strong, very strong, and one is

soon made drunk.

"The girl who made the kava for us was named Sipi. She had eyes like the

stars when they are shining upon a deep mountain pool, and round her

smooth forehead was bound a circlet of yellow pandanus leaf worked with

beads of many colours and fringed with red parrakeet feathers; about her

waist were two fine mats, and her bosom and hands were stained with

turmeric. I sat and watched her beating the kava, and as her right arm

rose and fell her short, black wavy hair danced about her cheeks and hid

the red mouth and white teeth when she smiled at me. And she smiled at

me very often, and the man and woman beside me laughed when they saw me

regard her so intently, and asked me was it in my mind to have her for

my wife.

"I did not answer at once, for I knew that if I ran away from the ship

for the sake of this girl I would be doing a foolish thing, for I had

money coming to me when the ship was _oti folau_ (paid off). But, as I

pondered, the girl bent forward and again her eyes smiled at me through

her hair; and then it was I saw that on her head there was a narrow

shaven strip from the crown backward. Now, in Tokelau, this fashion is

called _tu tagita_, and showeth that a girl is in her virginity. When I

saw this I was pleased, but to make sure I said to my friends, 'Her hair

is _tu tagita_. Is she a virgin?'

"The woman of Nanomaga laughed loudly at this and pinched my hand, then

she translated my words to the girl who looked into my face and laughed

too, shaking her head as she put one hand over her eyes--

"'Nay, nay, O stranger,' she said, 'I am no virgin; neither am I a

harlot. I am respectable, and my father and mother have land. I do not

go to the ships.' Then she tossed her hair back from her face and began

to beat the kava again.

"Now, this girl pleased me greatly, for there were no twists in her

tongue; so, when the kava-drinking was finished I made her sit beside

me, and the Nanomaga woman told her I would run away from the ship if

she would be my wife. She put her face to my shoulder, and then took

the circlet from her forehead and bound it round my bared arm, and I

gave her a silver ring which I wore on my little finger. Then, together

with the Nanomaga man and his wife, we made our plans.... Ah! she was a

fine girl. For nearly a year was she wife to me until she sickened and

died of the _meisake elo_[8] which was brought to Ponapé by the

missionary ship from Honolulu.

"So the girl and I made our plans, and my friends promised to hide me

when the time came for me to run away. We sat long into the night, and I

heard much of the man called Franka and of the jealousy he bore to

Preston. He was jealous of him because of two reasons; one was that he

possessed such a fine house and so much land and a schooner, and the

other was that the people of Jakoits paid him the same respect as they

paid one of their high chiefs. So that was why Franka hated him. His

heart was full of hatred, and sometimes when he was drunk in his own

house at Ro|an Kiti he would boast to the natives that he would one

day show them that he was a better man than Preston. Sometimes his

drunken boastings were brought to the ears of Preston, who only laughed

and took no heed, and always gave him the good word when they met, which

was but seldom, for Jakoits and Kiti are far apart, and there was bad

blood between the people of the two places. And then--so the girl Sipi

afterwards told me--Franka was a lover of grog and a stealer of women,

and kept a noisy house and made much trouble, and so Preston went not

near him, for he was a quiet man and no drinker, and hated dissension.

And, besides this, Franka took part in the wars of the Kiti people, and

went about with a following of armed men, and such money as he made in

trading he spent in muskets and powder and ball; for all this Preston

had no liking, and one day he said to Franka, 'Be warned, this fighting

and slaying is wrong; it is not correct for a white man to enter into

these wars; you are doing wrong, and some day you will be killed.' Now

these were good words, but of what use are good words to an evil heart?

"So we pair sat talking and smoking, and the girl Sipi made us more

kava, and then again sat by my side and leant her face against my

shoulder, and presently we heard the sounds of music and singing from

the big house. We went outside to see and listen, and saw that Preston

was playing on a _pese laakau_[9] and Solepa and the captain of my ship

were dancing together--like as white people dance--and two of the other

captains were also dancing in the same fashion. All round the room were

seated many of the high chiefs of Ponapé with their wives, dressed very

finely, and at one end of the room stood a long table covered with a

white cloth, on which was laid food of all kinds and wine and grog to

drink--just as you would see in your own country when a rich man gives a

feast. Presently as we looked, we saw Franka walk into the room from a

side door and look about. His face was flushed, and he staggered

slightly in his steps. He went over to the table and poured out some

grog, and then beckoned to Preston to come and drink with him, but

Preston smiled and shook his head. How could he go when he was making

the music? Then Franka struck his clenched fist on the table in anger,

and went over to Preston, just as the dancers had stopped.

"'Why will ye not drink with me?' he said in a loud voice so that all

heard him. 'Art thou too great a man to drink with me again?'

"'Nay,' answered the other jestingly and taking no heed of Franka's rude

voice and angry eyes, 'not so great that I cannot drink with all my

friends tonight, be they white or brown,' and so saying he bade every

one in the room come to the great table with him and drink _manuia_ to

him and his young wife.

"So the nine white men--Preston, and Franka, and the seven whaleship

captains, and Nanakin, the head chief of Ponapé, and many other lesser

chiefs, all gathered together around the table and filled their glasses

and drank _manuia_ to the bride, who sat on a chair in the centre of the

room surrounded by the chiefs' wives, and smiled and bowed when my

captain called her name and raised his glass towards her. Then after

this he again took up the _pese laakau_ and began to play, and my

captain and Solepa danced again. Suddenly Franka pushed his way through

the others and rudely placed his hand on her arm.

"'Come,' he said, 'leave this fellow and dance with me.'

"She cried out in terror, and then silence fell upon all as my captain

withdrew his right arm from her waist and struck Franka on the mouth; it

was a strong blow, and Franka staggered backwards and then fell near to

the open door. As he rose to his feet again my captain came up to him

and bade him leave quickly. 'We want no drunken bullies here,' he said,

and at that moment Franka drew a pistol and pointed it at his chest. I

leapt upon him and as we struggled together the pistol went off, but the

bullet hurt no one.

"Then there was a great commotion, and my captain and Preston ran to my

aid and seized Franka. They dragged him out of the room, and with words

of scorn and contempt threw him out amongst his own people who were

gathered together outside the house, with their muskets in their hands.

But already Nanakin and his chiefs had summoned their fighting men; they

came running towards us from all directions, and surrounding Franka and

his men, drove them away and bade them beware of ever returning to

Jakoits.

"When they had gone, my captain called me to him, and, turning to the

other white men, said, 'This man hath saved my life. He hath a brave

heart. I shall do much for him in the time to come.' Then he and the

others all shook my hand and praised me, and I was silent and said

nothing, for I was ashamed to think I was about to run away from such a

good captain.

"In the morning we went back to the ship, and the boats were then sent

away to fill and bring off casks of water. Every time my boat went I

took something with me; tobacco and clothing and other things which I

had in my sea chest. Sipi and some other girls met us at the watering

place, and they took these from me and put them in a place of safety.

That afternoon as the boats were about to leave the shore for the last

time, towing the casks, I slipped into the forest which grew very

densely on both sides of the little river, and ran till I came to the

spot where Sipi was awaiting me. Then together we went inland towards

the mountains and kept on walking till nightfall. That night we slept in

the forest; we were afraid to make a fire lest it should be seen by some

of Nanakin's people and betray us, for I knew that my captain would

cause a great search to be made for me. When dawn came we again set out

and went on steadily till we came to the summit of the range of

mountains which divides the island. There was a clear space on the side

of the mountain; a great village had once stood there, so Sipi told me,

but all those who had dwelt there had long since died, and their ghosts

could be heard flitting to and fro at night time. Far below us we could

see the blue sea, and the long waving line of reef with the surf beating

upon it, and within, anchored in the green water, were the seven ships

and Preston's schooner.

"All that day and the next the girl and I worked at building a little

house for us to live in until the ships had gone. We had no fear of any

one seeking us out in that place, for it had a bad name and none but

travelling parties from Ro|an Kiti ever passed there. Sipi had brought

with her a basket of cooked food; in the deserted plantations we found

plenty of bananas and yams, and in the stream at the foot of the valley

we caught many small fish. Four days went by, and then one morning we

saw the ships set their sails and go to sea. We watched them till they

touched the sky rim and disappeared; then we went back to Jakoits.

"The white man and Solepa were sitting under the shade of a tree in

front of their house. I went boldly up to him and asked him to give me

work to do. At first he was angry, for he and my captain were great

friends, and said he would have naught to do with me. Why did I run away

from such a good man and such a good ship? There were too many men like

me, he said, in Ponapé, who had run away so that they might do naught

but wander from village to village and eat and drink and sleep. Then

again he asked why I had run away.

"'Because of her,' I said, pointing to the girl Sipi, who was sitting at

the gate with her face covered with the corner of her mat. 'But I am no

_tafao vale_.[10] I am a true man. Give me work on thy ship.'

"He thought a little while, then he and Solepa talked together, and

Solepa bade Sipi come near so that she might talk to her. Presently he

said to me that I had done a foolish thing to run away for the sake of

the girl when I had money coming to me and when the captain's heart was

filled with friendship towards me for turning aside Franka's pistol.

"I bent my head, for I was ashamed. Then I said, 'I care not for the

money I have lost, but I am eaten up with shame for running away, for my

captain was a good captain to me.'

"This pleased him, for he smiled and said, 'I will try thee. I will make

thee boatswain of the schooner, and this girl here shall be servant to

my wife.'

"So Sipi became servant to Solepa, and I was sent on board the schooner

to help prepare her for sea. My new captain gave us a house to live in,

and every night I came on shore. Ah, those were brave times, and Preston

made much of me when he found that I was a true man and did my work

well, and would stand no saucy words nor black looks from those of the

schooner's crew who thought that the boatswain should be a white man.

"Ten days after the whaleships had sailed, the schooner was ready for

sea. We were to sail to the westward isles to trade for oil and

tortoiseshell, and then go to China, where Preston thought to sell his

cargo. On the eve of the day on which we were to leave, the mate, who

was an old and stupid Siamani,[11] went ashore to my master's house, and

I was left in charge of the schooner. Sipi, my wife, was with me, and we

sat together in the stern of the ship, smoking our _sului_ (cigarettes)

and talking of the time when I should return and buy a piece of land

from her father's people, on which I should build a new house. There

were six native sailors on board, and these, as the night drew on,

spread their mats on the fore deck and went to sleep. Then Sipi and I

went into the cabin, which was on deck, and we too slept.

"How long we had slumbered I cannot tell, but suddenly we were aroused

by the sound of a great clamour on deck and the groans and cries of

dying men, and then ere we were well awakened the cabin door was opened

and Solepa was thrust inside. Then the door was quickly closed and

fastened on the outside, and I heard Franka's voice calling out orders

to hoist sails and slip the cable.

"There was a lamp burning dimly in the cabin, and Sipi and I ran to the

aid of Solepa, who lay prone upon the floor as if dead. Her dress was

torn, and her hands and arms were scratched and bleeding, so that Sipi

wept as she leant over her and put water to her lips. In a little while

she opened her eyes, and when she saw us a great sob broke from her

bosom and she caught my hand in hers and tried to speak.

"Now, grog is a good thing. It is good for a weak, panting woman when

her strength is gone and her soul is terrified, and it is good for an

old man who is despised by his relations because he is bitten with

poverty. There was grog in a wicker jar in the cabin. I gave her some in

a glass, and then as the dog Franka, whose soul and body are now in

hell, was getting the schooner under way, she told me that while she and

Preston were asleep the house was surrounded by a hundred or more of

men from Ro|an Kiti, led by Franka. They burst in suddenly, and Franka

and some others rushed into their sleeping-room and she was torn away

from her husband and carried down to the beach.

"'Is thy husband dead?' I asked.

"'I cannot tell,' she said in a weak voice. 'I heard some shots fired

and saw him struggling with Franka's men. That is all I know. If he is

dead then shall I die too. Give me a knife, so that I may die.'

"As she spoke the schooner began to move, and again we heard Franka's

voice calling out in English to some one to go forward and con the ship

whilst he steered, for the night was dark and he, clever stealer of

women as he was, did not know the passage out through the reef, and

trusted to those with him who knew but little more. Then something came

into my mind, and I took Solepa's hand in mine.

"'I will save thee from this pig Franka,' I said quickly, 'he shall

never take thee away. Sit ye here with Sipi, and when ye hear the

schooner strike, spring ye both into the sea and swim towards the two

islands which are near.'

"In the centre of the deck cabin was a hatch which led into the hold.

There was no deck between, for the vessel was but small. I took my knife

from the sheath and then lifted the hatch, descended, and crawled

forward in the darkness to the fore hatch, up which I crept very

carefully, for I had much in my mind. I saw a man standing up, holding

on to the fore stay. He was calling out to Franka every now and then,

telling him how to steer. I sprang up behind him, and as I drove my

knife into his back with my left hand, I struck him with my right on his

neck and he fell overboard. He was a white man, I think for when my

knife went into his back he called out 'Oh Christ!' But then many native

men who have mixed with white people call out 'Oh, Christ,' just like

white men when they are drunk. Anyway, it does not matter now.

"But as I struck my knife into him, I called out in English to put the

helm hard down, for I saw that the schooner was very near the reef on

the starboard hand. Franka, who was at the wheel, at once obeyed and was

fooled, for the schooner, which was now leaping and singing to the

strong night wind from the mountains smote suddenly upon the coral reef

with a noise like the felling of a great forest tree, and began to grind

and tear her timbers.

"Almost as she struck Solepa and Sipi stood by me, and together we

sprang overboard into the white surf ... Give me some more grog, dear

friend of my heart. I am no boaster, nor am I a liar; but when I think

of that swim to the shore through the rolling seas with those two women,

my belly cleaves to my backbone and I become faint.... For the current

was against us, and neither Sipi nor Solepa were good swimmers, and many

times had we to clutch hold of the jagged coral, which tore our skins so

that our blood ran out freely, and had the sharks come to us then I

would not be here with thee to-night drinking this, thy good sweet grog

which thou givest me out of thy kind heart. Ta|pa|! When I look

into thy face and see thy kind eyes, I am young again. I love thee, not

alone because thou hast been kind to me in my poverty and paid the fines

of my granddaughter when she hath committed adultery with the young men

of the village, but because thou hast seen many lands and have upheld me

before the teacher, who is a circumcised but yet untatooed dog of a

Samoan. A man who is not tatooed is no better than a woman. He is a male

harlot and should be despised. He is only fit to associate with women,

and has no right to beget children....

"We three swam to the shore, and when the dawn came we saw that the

schooner stood high and dry on the reef and that Franka and his men were

trying to float her by throwing overboard the iron ballast and putting a

kedge anchor out upon the lee side of the reef. And at the same time we

saw three boats put off from the mainland. These boats were all painted

white, and when I saw them I said to Solepa, 'Be of good heart. Thy

husband is not dead, for here are three of his boats coming. He is not

dead. He is coming to seek thee.'"

"The three boats came quickly towards the schooner, but ere they reached

her Franka and those with him got into the boats in which they had

boarded the vessel, and then we saw smoke arise from the bow and

stern.... They had set fire to the ship. They were cowards. Fire is a

great help to cowards, because in the glare and dazzling light of

burning houses or ships, when the thunder of cannons and the rattle of

rifles is heard, they can run about and kill people.... I have seen

these things done in Chili.... I have seen men who would not stand and

fight on board ship run away on shore and slay women and children in

their fury and cowardice. No, they were not Englishmen; they were

Spaniolas. But the officers were Englishmen and Germans. _They_ did not

run away, they were killed. Brave men get killed and cowards live. I am

no coward though I am still alive. It is quite proper that I should

live, for I never ran away when there was fighting to be done. I have

only been a fool because of my love for women. No one could say I was a

coward, and no one can say I am a fool, because I am too old now to be a

fool.

"As Franka and those with him left the burning schooner and rowed

towards the islands, the three boats from the shore changed their course

and followed him. Franka and his men were the first to reach the land,

and they quickly ran up the beach and crouched behind the bushes which

grew at high-water mark. They all had guns, and Sipi and Solepa and I

saw them waiting to shoot. We were hiding amid the roots of a great

banyan tree, and could see well. As the boats drew near Solepa watched

them eagerly, and then began to weep and laugh at the same time when she

saw her husband Preston was steering the one which led. She was a good

woman. She loved her husband. I was pleased with her, and told her to be

of good cheer, for I was sure that Preston and his people would kill

Franka and those with him, for as they rowed they made no noise. No one

shouted nor challenged; they came on and on, and the white man Preston

stood up with the steer oar in his hand, and his face was as a stone in

which was set eyes of fire. When his boat was within twenty fathoms of

the beach the rowers ceased, and he held up his hand to those who

awaited his coming.

"'Listen to me, men of Ro|an Kiti. We are as three to one of ye, and

ye are caught in a trap. Death is in my mouth if I speak the word. Tell

me, is my wife Solepa alive?'

"No one answered, but suddenly Franka stepped out from behind the bushes

and pointed his rifle at him, and was about to pull the trigger when a

young man of his party who was of good heart seized him by the arm, and

cried out 'twas a coward's act; then two or three followed him, and

together they bore Franka down upon the sand; and one of them cried out

to Preston--

"'This is a wrong business. We were led astray by this man. We are no

cowards, and have no ill-will to thee. Thy wife is alive. She swam

ashore with two others when the ship struck. Are we dead men?'

"Then, ere Preston could answer, Solepa leapt out from beneath the

banyan tree and ran through the men of Ro|an Kiti towards the beach,

and cried--

"'Oh, my husband, for the love of God let no blood be shed! I am well

and unharmed. Spare these people and spare even this man Franka, for he

is mad!'

"Then Preston leapt out of the boat and put his arms around her waist

and kissed her, and then put her aside, and called to every one around

him--

"'These are my words,' he said. 'I am a man of peace, but this man

Franka is a robber and a dog, and hath stolen upon me in the night and

slain my people, and his hands are reddened with blood. And he hath put

foul dishonour on me by stealing Solepa my wife, and carrying her away

from my house as if she were a slave or a harlot. And there is no room

here for such a man to live unless he be a better man than I. But I am

no murderer. So stand aside all! Let him rise and rest awhile, and then

shall we two fight, man to man. Either he or I must die.'

"Then many men of both sides came to him and said, 'Let this thing be

finished. You are a strong man. Take this robber and slay him as you

would slay a pig.' But he put them aside, and said he would fight him

man to man, as Englishmen fought.

"So when Franka was rested two cutlasses were brought, and the two men

stood face to face on the sand. I kept close to Franka, for I meant to

stab him if I could, but Preston angrily bade me stand back. Then the

two crossed their swords together and began to fight. It was a great

fight, but it did not last long, for Preston soon ran his sword through

Franka's chest. I saw it come out through his back. But as he fell and

Preston bent over him he thrust his cutlass into Preston's stomach and

worked it to and fro. Then Preston fell on him, and they died together.

"There was no more bloodshed. Solepa and Sipi and I dressed the dead man

in his best clothes, and the Ro|an Kiti men dressed Franka in his

best clothes, and a great funeral feast was made, and we buried them

together on the little island. And Solepa went back again to Honolulu in

a whaleship. She was young and fair, and should have soon found another

husband. I do not know. But Sipi was a fine wife to me."

_The Fisher Folk of Nukufetau_

Early one morning, about a week after I had settled down on Nukufetau as

a trader, I opened my chest of fishing-gear and began to overhaul it. In

a few minutes I was surrounded by an eager and interested group of

natives, who examined everything with the greatest curiosity.

Now for the preceding twelve months I had been living on the little

island of Nanomaga, a day's sail from Nukufetau; and between Nanomaga

and Nukufetau there was a great bitterness of long standing--the

Nanomagans claimed to be the most daring canoe-men and expert fishermen

in all the eight isles of the Ellice Group, and the people of Nukufetau

resented the claim strongly. The feeling had been accentuated by my good

friend the Samoan teacher on Nanomaga, himself an ardent fisherman,

writing to his brother minister on Nukufetau and informing him that

although I was not a high-class Christian I was all right in all other

respects, and a good fisherman--"all that he did not know we have taught

him, therefore," he added slyly, "let your young men watch him so that

they may learn how to fish in deep and rough water, such as ours."

These remarks were of course duly made public, and caused much

indignation, neither the minister nor his flock liking the gibe about

the deep, rough water; also the insinuation that anything about fishing

was to be learnt from the new white man was annoying and uncalled for.

I must here mention that the natives of De Peyster's Island (Nukufetau)

caught all the fish they wanted in the smooth and spacious waters of the

lagoon, and were not fond of venturing outside the barrier reef, except

during the bonito season, or when the sea was very calm at night, to

catch flying-fish. Then, too, the currents outside the reef were swift

and dangerous, and the canoes had either to be carried a long distance

over the coral or paddled a couple of miles across the lagoon to the

ship passage before the open sea was gained. Hudson's Island

(Nanomaga)--a tiny spot less than four miles in circumference--had no

lagoon, and all fishing was done in the deep water of the ocean. The

natives were used to launching their canoes, year in and year out, to

face the wildest surf, and were, in consequence, wonderfully expert, and

in the history of the island there is only one instance of a man having

been drowned. The De Peyster people, by reason of the advantage of their

placid lagoon, had no reason to risk their lives in the surf in this

manner, and so, naturally enough, they were not nearly as skilful in the

management of their frail canoes when they had to face a sweeping sea on

the outer or ocean reef.

Just as I was placing some coils of heavy, deep-sea lines upon the

matted floor, Marèko the native teacher, fat, jovial, and

bubbling-voiced, entered in a great hurry, and hardly giving himself

time to shake hands with me, announced in a tone of triumph, that a body

of _atuli_ (baby bonito) had just entered the passage and were making

their way up the lagoon.

In less than ten seconds every man, woman, and child on the island,

except the teacher and myself, were agog with excitement and bawling and

shouting as they rushed to the beach to launch and man the canoes, the

advent of the _atuli_ having been expected for some days. In nearly all

the equatorial islands of the Pacific these beautiful little fish make

their appearance every year almost to a day, with unvarying regularity.

They remain in the smooth waters of lagoons for about two weeks,

swimming about in incredible numbers, and apparently so terrified of

their many enemies in their own element, and the savage, keen-eyed

frigate birds which constantly assail them from above, that they

sometimes crowd into small pools on the inner reef, and when the tide is

low, seek to hide themselves by lying in thick masses under the

overhanging ledges of coral rock. Simultaneously--or at least within a

day or two at most--the swarming millions of _atuli_ are followed into

the lagoons by the _gatala_--a large black and grey rock-cod (much

esteemed by the natives for the delicacy of its flavour) and great

numbers of enormous eels. At other times of the year both the _gatala_

and the eels are never or but rarely seen inside the lagoons, but are

occasionally caught outside the reef at a good depth--forty to sixty

fathoms. As soon, however, as the young bonito appear, both eels and

rock-cod change their normal habits, and entering the lagoons through

the passages thereto, they take up their quarters in the deeper

parts--places which are fringed by a labyrinthine border of coral

forest, and are at most ten fathoms deep. Here, when the _atuli_ are

covering the surface above, the eels and rock-cod actually rise to the

surface and play havoc among them, especially during moonlight nights,

and in the daytime both rock-cod and eels may be seen pursuing their

hapless prey in the very shallowest water, amidst the little pools and

runnels of the coral reef. It is at this time that the natives of

Nukufetau and some other islands have some glorious sport, for in

addition to the huge eels and rock-cod many other deep-sea fish flock

into the shallower lagoon waters--all in pursuit of the _atuli_--and all

eager to take the hook.

* * * * *

As soon as the natives had left the house, Marèko turned to me with a

beaming smile. "Let them go on first and net some _atuli_ for us for

bait," he said, "you and I shall follow in my own canoe and fish for

_gatala_. It will be a great thing for one of us to catch the first

_gatala_ of the season. Yesterday, when I was over there," pointing to

two tiny islets within the lagoon, "I saw some _gatala_. The natives

laugh at me and say I am mistaken--that because the _atuli_ had not come

there could be no _gatala_. Now, _I_ think that the big fish came in

some days ago, but the strong wind and current kept the _atuli_ outside

till now. Come."

I needed no pressing. In five minutes I had my basket of lines (of white

American cotton) ready, and joined Marèko. His canoe (the best on the

island, of course) was already in the water and manned by his two sons,

boys of eight and twelve respectively. I sat for'ard, the two youngsters

amidships, the father took the post of honour as _tautai_ or steersman,

and with a chuckle of satisfaction from the boys, off we went in the

wake of about thirty other canoes.

Oh, the delight of urging a light canoe over the glassy water of an

island lagoon, and watching the changing colours and strange, grotesque

shapes of the coral trees and plants of the garden beneath as they

vanish swiftly astern, and the quick _chip, chip_ of the flashing

paddles sends the whirling, noisy eddies to right and left, and frights

the lazy, many-hued rock-fish into the darker depths beneath! On, on,

till the half mile or more of shallow water which covers the inner reef

is passed, and then suddenly you shoot over the top of the submarine

wall, into deepest, loveliest blue, full thirty fathoms deep, and as

calm and quiet as an infant sleeping on its mother's bosom, though

perhaps not a quarter of a mile away on either hand the long rollers of

the Pacific are bellowing and thundering on the grim black shelves of

the weather coast.

So it was on this morning, but with added delights and beauties; as

instead of striking straight across the lagoon to our rendezvous we had

to skirt the beaches of a chain of thickly wooded islets, which gave

forth a sweet smell, mingled with the odours of _nono_ blossoms; for

during the night rain had fallen after a long month of dry weather, and

Nature was breathing with joy. High overhead there floated some

snow-white tropic birds--those gentle, ethereal creatures which, to the

toil-spent seaman who watches their mysterious poise in illimitable

space, seem to denote the greater Mystery and Rest that lieth beyond all

things; and lower down, and sweeping swiftly to and fro with steady,

outspread wing and long, forked tail, the fierce-eyed, savage frigate

birds scanned the surface of the water in search of prey, and then

finding it not, rose without apparent motion to the cloudless canopy of

blue and became as but tiny black specks--and then, _swish_! and the

tiny black specks which but a minute ago were high in heaven are

flashing by your cheeks with a weird, whistling sound like winged

spectres. You look for them. They are gone. Already they are a thousand

feet overhead. Five of them. And all five are as motionless as if they,

with their wide, outspread wings, had never moved from their present

position for a thousand years.

"Chip, chip," and "chunk, chunk," go our paddles as we now head eastward

towards the rising sun in whose resplendent rays the tufted palms of the

two islets stand clearly out, silhouetted against the sea rim beyond.

Now and again we hear, as from a long, long distance, the echoes of the

voices of the people in the canoes ahead; a soft white mist began to

gather over and then ascend from the water, and as we drew near the

islets the occasional thunder of the serf on Motuluga Reef we heard

awhile ago changed into a monotonous droning hum.

"_Aue_!" said Marèko the _tautai_, with a laugh, as he ceased paddling

and laid his paddle athwartships, "'tis like to be a hot day and calm.

So much the better for our fishing, for the water will be very clear.

Boy, give me a coconut to drink."

"Take some whisky with it, Marèko," I said, taking a flask out of my

basket.

"_Isa_! Shame upon you! How can you say such a thing to me, a minister!"

And then he added, with a reproachful look, "and my children here, too."

He would have winked, but he dared not do so, for one of his boys had

turned his face aft and was facing him. I, however, made him a hurried

gesture which he quite understood. Good old Marèko! He was an honest,

generous-hearted, broad-minded fellow, but terribly afraid of his

tyrannical deacons, who objected to him smoking even in the seclusion of

his own curatage, and otherwise bullied and worried him into behaving

exactly as they thought he should.

By the time we reached the islets the _atuli_ catching had begun, and

more than a hundred natives were encircling a considerable area of water

with finely-meshed nets and driving the fish shoreward upon a small

sandy beach, where they were scooped up in gleaming masses of shining

blue and silver by a number of women and children, who tumbled over and

pushed each other aside amidst much laughter and merriment.

On the larger of the two islets were a few thatched huts with open

sides. One of these was reserved for the missionary and the white man,

and hauling our canoe up on the beach at the invitation of the people,

we sat down under a shed whilst the women grilled us some of the

freshly-caught fish. This took barely over ten minutes, as fires had

already been lighted by the children. The absence of bread was made up

for by the flesh of half-grown coconuts and cooked _puraka_--gigantic

species of taro which thrives well in the sandy soil of the Equatorial

islands of the Pacific. Just as we had finished eating and were

preparing our lines we heard loud cries from the natives who were still

engaged among the _atuli_, and three or four of them seizing spears

began chasing what were evidently some large fish. Presently one of them

darted his weapon, and then gave a loud cry of triumph, as he leapt into

the water and dragged out a large salmon-like fish called "utu", which

was at once brought ashore for my inspection. The man who had struck

it--an active, wiry old fellow named Viliamu (William) was panting with

excitement. Some large _gatala_, he said, had just made their appearance

with the _utu_ and were pursuing the small fish; therefore would we

please hurry forward with our preparations. Then the leader of the

entire party stood up and bellowed out in bull-like tones his

instructions. The canoes were all to start together, and when the ground

was reached all lines were to be lowered simultaneously; there was to be

no crowding. The white man and missionary, however, if they wished,

could start first and make a choice of position.

"No, no," I said, "let us all start fair."

This was greeted with a chorus of approval, and then leaving the women

and children to attend to the camp, we hurried back to the canoes. Just

as we were leaving the hut I had a look at the _utu_--a fish I had never

before seen. It was about three feet in length, and only for its head

(which was coarse and clumsy) much like a heavy salmon. The back was

covered with light green scales, the sides and belly a pure silver, and

the fins and tail tipped with yellow. It weighed about 20 lbs., and

presented a very handsome appearance.

The fishing-ground to which we were now paddling was not half a mile

from the islets, and lay between them and the outer reef which formed

its northern boundary. It consisted of a series of deep channels or

connected pools running or situated amidst a network of minor reefs, the

surfaces of which were, for the most part, bare at low water. Generally

the depth was from eight to ten fathoms; in places, however, it was much

deeper, and I subsequently found that there were spots whereon I could

stand (on the coral ledge) and drop my line into chasms of thirty-two or

thirty-three fathoms. Here the water was almost as blue to the eye as

the ocean, and here the very largest fish resorted--such as the _pura_,

a species of rock-cod, and a blue-scaled groper, the native name of

which I cannot now recall.

It must have been nearly ten o'clock when the canoes were all in

position, and the word was given to let go lines. The particular spot in

which we were congregated was about three acres in extent and about

seven fathoms in depth, with water as clear as crystal; and even the

dullest eye could discern the smallest pebble or piece of broken coral

lying upon the bottom, which was generally composed of patches of coarse

sand surrounded by an interlacing fringe of growing coral, or white,

blue, or yellow boulders. A glance over the side showed us that the

_gatala_ had arrived; we could see numbers of them swimming lazily to

and fro beneath, awaiting the flowing tide which would soon cover the

lagoon from one shore to the other with swarms of young bonito, as they

swam about in search of such places as that in which we were now about

to begin fishing.

Each man had baited his hook with the third of an _atuli_--at this stage

of their life about four inches long and exactly the colour and shape of

a young mackerel--and within five minutes after "_Tu'u tau kafa_!"

("Let go lines!") had been called out several of the canoes around our

own began to pull up fish--four to six pounders. I was fishing with a

white cotton line, with two hooks, and Marèko with the usual native

gear--a hand-made line of hibiscus bark with a barbless hook made from a

long wire nail, with its point ground fine and well-curved inwards. We

both struck fish at the same moment, and I knew by the zigzag pull that

I had two. Up they came together--three spotted beauties about eighteen

inches in length and weighing over 5 lbs. each. Then I found the

advantage of the native style of hook; Marèko simply put his left thumb

and forefinger into the fish's eye, had his hook free in a moment, had

baited, lowered again and was pulling up another before I had succeeded

in freeing even my first hook which was firmly fixed in the fish's

gullet, out of sight. I soon put myself on a more even footing by

cutting off the small one and a half inch hooks I had been using and

bending on two thick and long-shanked four inchers. These answered

beautifully, as although the barbs caused me some trouble, their stout

shanks afforded a good grip and leverage when extracting them from the

hard and keen-toothed jaws of the struggling fish. Then, too, I had

another advantage over my companions; I was wearing a pair of seaboots

which effectually protected my feet from either the terrible fins or the

teeth of the fish in the bottom of the canoe.

I had caught my eighth fish, when an outcry came from a canoe near us,

as a young man who was seated on the for'ard thwart rose to his feet and

began hauling in his line, which was standing straight up and down, taut

as an iron bar, the canoe meanwhile spinning round and round although

the steersman used all his efforts to keep her steady.

"What is it, Tuluia?" called out fifty voices at once. "A shark?"

"My mother's bones!" said old Viliamu with a laugh of contempt. "'Tis an

eel, and Tuluia, who was asleep, has let it twist its tail around a

piece of coral. May he lose it for his stupidity."

We all ceased fishing to watch, and half a dozen men began jeering at

the lad, who was too excited to heed them. Old Viliamu, who was in the

next canoe, looked down, and then cried out that he could see the eel,

which had taken several turns of its body around a thick branch of

growing coral.

"His head is up," he called out to the youth, "but you cannot move him,

he has too many turns in and out among the coral." Then paddling up

alongside he again looked at the struggling creature, then felt the line

which was vibrating with the tension. Stepping out of his own craft into

that of the young man, the line was placed in his hands without an inch

of it being payed out, for once one of these giant eels can get his head

down he will so quickly twine the line in and out among the rugged coral

that it is soon chafed through, if of ordinary thickness. But the

ancient knew his work well, as we were soon to see. Taking a turn of the

line well up on his forearm and grasping it with his right a yard lower

down, he waited for a second or two, then suddenly bent his body till

his face nearly touched the water, then he sprang erect and with

lightning-like rapidity began to haul in hand _under_ hand [12] amid

loud cries of approval as the wriggling body of the eel was seen

ascending clear of the coral. The moment it reached the surface, a

second native, with unerring aim sent a spear through it and then a blow

or two upon the head with a club carried for the purpose took all

further fight out of the creature, which was then lifted out of the

water and dropped into the canoe. Here the end of its tail was quickly

split open and we saw no more of him for the time being.

To capture an eel so soon was looked upon as a lucky omen, to have lost

it would have been a presage of ill-fortune for the rest of the day, and

the incident put every one in high good humour. By this time the tide

was flowing over the flatter parts of the reef and young bonito could be

seen jumping out of the water in all directions. Immense bodies were, so

I was assured by the natives, now coming into the lagoon from the sea,

and would continue to do so till the tide turned, when those in the

passage, unable to face a six-knot current, would be carried out again,

to make another attempt later on.

By this time every canoe was hauling in large rock-cod almost as quick

as the lines could be baited, and the bottom of our own craft presented

a gruesome sight--a lather of blood and froth and kicking fish, some of

which were over 20 lbs. weight. Telling the two boys to cease fishing

awhile and stun some of the liveliest, I unthinkingly began to bale out

some of the ensanguined water, when a score of indignant voices bade me

cease. Did I want to bring all the sharks in the world around us? I was

asked; and old Viliamu, who was a sarcastic old gentleman, made a mock

apology for me--

"How should he know any better? The sharks of Tokelau have no teeth,

like the people there, for they too are eaters of _fala_."

This evoked a sally of laughter, in which of course I joined. I must

explain that the natives of the Tokelau Group, among whom I had lived,

through constantly chewing the tough drupes of the fruit of the _fala_

(pandanus palm) wear out their teeth prematurely, and are sometimes

termed "toothless" by other natives of the South Pacific. However, I was

to have my own little joke at Viliamu's expense later on.

Just at this time a sudden squall, accompanied by torrents of rain, came

down upon us from the eastward, and whilst Marèko and his boys kept us

head to wind--none of the canoes were anchored--I took the opportunity

of getting ready two of my own lines, each treble-hooked, for the boys.

Their own were old and rotten, and had parted so often that they were

now too short to be of use, and, besides that, the few remaining hooks

of soft wire were too small. As soon as the squall was over I showed

Marèko what I had done. He nodded and smiled, but said I should try and

break off the barbs--his boys did not understand them as well as

native-made hooks. This was quickly accomplished with a heavy knife, and

the youngsters began to haul up fish two and three at a time at such a

rate that the canoe soon became deep in the water outside and very full

inside.

"A few more, Marèko," I said, "and then we'll go ashore, unload, and

come back again. I want to tease that old man."

We caught all we could possibly carry in another quarter of an hour, and

I was confident that our take exceeded that of any other canoe. This was

because the natives would carefully watch their stone sinkers descend,

and use every care to keep them from being entangled in the coral,

whilst my line, which had a 12 oz. leaden sinker, would plump quickly to

the bottom in the midst of the hungry fish; consequently, although I

lost some hooks by fouling and now and then dragged up a bunch of coral,

I was catching more fish than any one else. And I was not going to let

my reputation suffer for the sake of a few hooks. So we coiled up our

lines on the outrigger platform, and taking up our paddles headed

shoreward, taking care to pass near Viliamu's canoe. He hailed me and

asked me for a pipe of tobacco.

"I shall give it to you when we return," I said.

"When you return! Why, where are you going?" he asked.

"On shore, you silly old woman! I have been showing these boys how to

fish for _gatala_, and we go because the canoe is sinking. When we

return these two _tamariki_ (infants) shall show _you_ how to fish now

that they have learnt from me."

There was a loud laugh at this, and as the old man took the jest very

good-naturedly I brought up alongside, showed him our take, and gave him

a stick of tobacco. The astonishment of himself and his crew of three at

the quantity of fish we had afforded me much satisfaction, though I

could not help feeling that our luck was not due to my own skill alone.

Returning to the islets we were just in time to escape two fierce

squalls, which lasted half an hour and raised such a sea that the

remaining canoes began to follow us, as they were unable to keep on the

ground. During our absence the women and children had been most

industrious; the weather-worn, dilapidated huts had been made habitable

with freshly-plaited _kapaus_--coarse mats of green coconut leaves, the

floors covered with clean white pebbles, sleeping mats in readiness, and

heaps of young drinking nuts piled up in every corner, whilst outside

smoke was arising from a score of ground ovens in which taro and puraka

were being cooked, together with bundles of _atuli_ wrapped in leaves.

Etiquette forbade Marèko and myself counting our fish until the rest of

the party returned, although the women had taken them out of the canoe

and laid them on the beach, where the pouring rain soon washed them

clean and showed them in all their shining beauty. Among them were two

or three parrot-fish--rich carmine, striped with bands of bright yellow,

boneless fins, and long protruding teeth in the upper jaw showing out

from the thick, fleshy lips; and one _afulu_--a species of deep-water

sand mullet with purple scales and yellow fins.

Whilst awaiting the rest of the canoes I drew the teacher into our hut

and pressed him to take some whisky. He was wet, cold, and shivering,

but resolutely declined to take any. "I should like to drink a little,"

he said frankly, "but I must not. I cannot drink it in secret, and yet I

must not set a bad example. Do not ask me, please. But if you like to

give some to the old men do so, but only a very little." I did do so. As

soon as the rest of the party landed I called up four of the oldest men

and gave each of them a stiff nip. They were all nude to the waist, and

like all Polynesians who have been exposed to a cold rain squall, were

shivering and miserable. After each man had taken his nip and emitted a

deep sigh of satisfaction I observed that hundreds of old white men

saved their lives by taking a glass of spirits when they were wet

through--they had to do so by the doctor's orders.

"That is true," said one old fellow; "when men grow old, and the rain

falls upon them it does not run off their skins as it would from the

smooth skins of young men. It gets into the wrinkles and stays there.

But when the belly is warmed with grog a man does not feel the cold."

"True," I said gravely, as I poured some whisky out for myself; "true,

quite true, my dear friends. And in these islands it is very bad for an

old man to be exposed to much rain. That is why I am disturbed in my

mind. See, there is Marèko, your minister. He, like you, is old; he is

wet and cold. And he shivers. And he will not take a mouthful of this

_rom_ because he fears scandal. Now if he should become ill and die I

should be a disgraced man. This _rom_ is now not _rom_; it is medicine.

And Marèko should take some even as you have taken it--to keep away

danger."

The four old fellows arose to the occasion. They talked earnestly

together for a minute, and then formed themselves into a committee,

requested me to head them as a deputation with the whisky, and then

waited upon their pastor, who was putting on a dry shirt in another hut.

I am glad to say that under our united protests he at last consented to

save his life, and felt much better.

Presently the women announced that the ovens were ready to be opened. As

soon as the fish were counted, and the rain having ceased, we all

gathered round the canoes and watched each one emptied of its load. As I

imagined, our party had taken the most fish, and not only the most, but

the heaviest as well. Marèko added to my blushing honours by informing

the company that as a fisherman and a knowledgable man generally I

justified his brother minister's opinion and would prove an acquisition

to the community. We then inspected the first eel caught, and a truly

huge creature it was, quite nine feet in length, and in girth at its

thickest part, as near as I could guess with a piece of line, thirty

inches. The line with which it was caught was made of new four-stranded

coir-cinnet, as thick as a stout lead pencil, and the hook a piece of

3/6 or 1/2 inch iron with a 6-inch shank, once used as a fish spear,

without a barb! The natives seemed much pleased at the interest

displayed, and told me that sometimes these eels grew to _elua gafa_

(_i.e._, two fathoms), but were seldom caught, and asked me if I had

tackle strong enough for such. Later on I showed them a 27-stranded

American cotton line 100 fathoms long, with a 4-inch hook, curved in the

shank, as thick as a pencil, and "eyed" for a twisted wire snooding.

They had never seen such beautiful tackle before, and were loud in their

expressions of admiration, but thought the line too thin for a very

heavy fish. I told them that at Nanomaga I had caught _palu_ (a

nocturnal feeding fish of great size) in over sixty fathoms with that

same line.

"That is true," said one of them politely, "we were told that you and

Tiaki (one Jack O'Brien, an old trader) of Funafuti have caught many

_palu_ with your long lines; but the _palu_ is a weak fish even when he

is a fathom long. And as he comes up he grows weaker and weaker, and

sometimes he bursts open when he comes to the surface. Now if a big

eel--an eel two fathoms long--"

"If he was three fathoms long he could not break this line," I replied

positively.

They laughed and told me that when I hooked even a small eel, one half a

fathom in length, I would change my opinion.

Soon after our midday meal was over, and we were preparing to return to

our fishing-ground with an ample supply of fresh bait, the sky to

windward became black and threatening, and through the breaks in the

long line of palms on the weather side of the island, which permitted

the horizon to be viewed, we could see that a squall of unusual violence

was coming. All the canoes were at once hauled up on the lee-side of the

islets, the huts were secured by ropes as quickly as possible, and every

one hurried under shelter. In a few minutes the wind was blowing with

astonishing fury, and the air was full of leaves, sticks, and other

_débris_, whilst the coco-palms and other trees on the islets seemed

likely to be torn up by the roots. This lasted about ten minutes. Then

came a sudden lull, followed by a terrific and deafening downpour of

rain; then more wind, another downpour, and the sun was out again!

As soon as the squall was over, I walked round to the weather side of

the islet with some children. We found the beach covered with some

thousands of _atuli_ and beautiful little garfish which had been driven

on shore by the force of the wind. We were soon joined by women carrying

baskets, which they filled with fish and carried back to the camp. On

returning, we again launched the canoes and started off again--to meet

with some disappointment, for although the _gatala_ still bit freely and

several eels were also taken, some scores of the small, pestilent,

lagoon sharks were swimming about and played havoc with our lines. These

torments are from two to four feet in length, and their mouths, which

are quite out of proportion to their insignificant size, are set with

rows of teeth of razor-like keenness. The moment a baited hook was seen

one of these little wretches would dart at it like lightning, and

generally bit the line through just above the hook. So quick were they,

that one could seldom even feel a tug unless the hook got fast in their

jaws. Taking off my sinker, and bending on a big hook with a wire snood,

I abandoned myself to their destruction, and as fast as I hauled one

alongside it was stunned, cut into three or four pieces, and thrown

overboard to be devoured by its fellows. Many of the Ellice and Tokelau

islanders regard these young sharks as a delicacy, as their flesh is

very tender, and has not the usual unpleasant smell. In one of these

young sea lawyers we found no less than five hooks, with pieces of line

attached; these were duly restored to their owners.

Another two hours passed, during which we had fairly good sport, then

the rain began to fall so heavily that we gave up for the day. We spent

the first part of the evening in the huts, eating, smoking, and talking,

and overhauling our tackle for the next day. It had been intended that

about midnight we should all go crayfishing in the shallow waters along

the shore of the islets, but this idea had to be abandoned in

consequence of the rain having soaked the coco palms--the dead branches

of which are rolled and plaited into a cylindrical form and used as

torches. The method of catching crayfish is very simple: a number of

men, each carrying a _kaulama_ torch about 6 feet in length in the left

hand, and a small scoop net in the right, walk waist-high through the

water; the crayfish, dazed by the brilliant light, are whipped up into

the nets and dropped into baskets carried by the women and children who

follow. They can only be caught on dark, moonless nights.

* * * * *

When we returned to the village our spoils included besides a great

number of fish, a few turtle and some young frigate birds. The latter

were captured for the purpose of being tamed. I made many subsequent

visits to the two islets, sometimes alone and sometimes with my native

friends, and on each occasion I left these lovely little spots with a

keen feeling of regret, for they are ideal resting-places to him who

possesses a love of nature and the soul of a fisherman.

_Mrs. MacLaggan's "Billy"_

When Tom Denison was quite a young man he was earning a not too

dishonest sort of a living as supercargo of a leaky old ketch owned by

Mrs. Molly MacLaggan of Samoa, which in those days was the Land of

Primeval Wickedness and Original and Imported Sin, Strong Drink, and

Loose Fish generally. Captain "Bully" Hayes also lived in Samoa; his

house and garden adjoined that of Mrs. MacLaggan, and at the back there

was a galvanised iron cottage, inhabited by a drunken French carpenter

named Leger, whose wife was a full-blooded negress, and made kava for

Denison and "Bully" every evening, and used to beat Billy MacLaggan on

the head with a pole about six times a day, and curse him vigorously in

mongrel Martinique French. Billy MacLaggan was Mrs. Molly's male goat,

and as notorious in Samoa as Bully Hayes himself.

I want to try and tell this story as clearly as possible, but there are

so many people concerned, and so many things which really happened

together, though each one seemed to come before the other a little and

try and get into the general jumble, and every one was so confused,

some fatuous people blaming the goat, and some Denison, who was

generally disliked by the Germans, while Mrs. Molly said it was caused

by the man with the bucket of milk, and Captain Hayes who had bribed him

to do it, and nearly caused bloodshed, as the German officer who was

insulted by Hayes had shot a lot of people in duels, or if he had not

shot them he had stuck his sword into them in fifteen places, more or

less.

Now let me explain: First of all there was Mrs. Molly, who was the

hostess; then there was Hamilton, the Apia pilot and his wife; the

manager of the big German firm at Matafale (he wore gold spectacles, and

was very fond of Mrs. Molly, who was a widow); then there was Bully

Hayes, and old Coe the American consul, and young Denison; all these

were some of the local guests, and lived in Samoa, the rest were

officers from a German man-of-war lying in port, and the usual

respectable town loafers. Then there were Leger, the bibulous carpenter;

'_Liza,_ his black wife; a white policeman named Thady O'Brien, and a

loafing scoundrel of a Samoan named Mataiasi, called "Matty" for

brevity, who was the public flogger, and milked Mrs. MacLaggan's herd of

seven imported Australian cows; and lastly the goat, and about thirty or

forty of Bully Hayes's crew, and as many Samoans, who came to look at

the dancing and see what they could steal, Leger and his wife and the

policeman and the town flogger had charge of the refreshment tables,

which for the sake of coolness had been laid out upon the wide, back

verandah, and handsomely decorated with pot plants and flags from the

man-of-war, and blanc-manges and jellies, and tipsy cake, and cold roast

pigeons and chickens were lying around as if they weren't worth two

cents.

The big wholesale store, which formed part of Mrs. Molly's house and

establishment, made a fine ballroom. All the barrels of whisky and

Queensland rum, and the cases of lager beer and Holland's gin, had been

stowed neatly on each side, and covered over with flags and orange

blossoms by Denison and Bully Hayes and his men, and the orange blossoms

killed the smell of the rum so much that strangers would have thought it

was sherry.

Everything went on beautifully for the first two hours, and then Mrs.

Molly asked Denison to take out a very pretty young half-caste lady and

get her a drink of milk. When they reached the side table where the milk

should have been, they found it all gone; but O'Brien the policeman said

that Mataiasi had just started off to milk another cow.

Just then Hayes came out to the refreshment tables with a lady on his

arm. She was thirsty, and so "Bully" opened a large bottle of champagne,

and she and he and Denison and the young half-caste lady drank it; then

they drank another, and all went oft together to see Mataiasi milking

the cow, which was tied up to a coconut tree just outside the fence. The

cow was a yellow cow, and was standing very quietly, and just beside her

Billy MacLaggan (who caused all this trouble) was lying down, working

his jaws to and fro and making curious, snorting sounds in the bright

and gorgeous moonlight. I forgot to say that Wm. MacLaggan was the

largest and ugliest goat ever known to the memory of man, and had been

taught every vice and wickedness any goat could be taught, and it is as

natural for a goat to imbibe sin as it is for him to eat a cactus, or a

hedgehog, or a tract.

Hayes addressed the goat by his Christian name, and asked him how he

did, and Billy looked at Hayes for a second or two out of his green,

sharky eyes, then he rose in a dignified manner, and came over to him to

be scratched under the chin. Then he blew himself out, snorted, and

rubbed his horns against the captain's knee: and Hayes remarked to

Denison that the poor beggar wanted a drink, and proposed to give him a

"proper one."

The goat knew perfectly well what "drink" meant, and made his vicious

tail quiver; then he followed them back to the house, and stood at the

foot of the steps waiting for Hayes and Tom to come out again.

On the other side of the courtyard was Mrs. MacLaggan's laundry. The

door was wide open and the place was in darkness, and no one took any

notice when presently Tom sauntered out of the ballroom, picked up a

large plateful of tipsy-cake, and, being kind to animals, gave a piece

to William, who followed him into the laundry for the rest; then Hayes

came in with a quart bottle of champagne, shut the door and struck a

light. Then he opened the bottle of fizz and poured it out into a deep,

enamelled starching-dish, and Billy MacLaggan drank thereof, and then

raised his head, with his immoral-looking beard hanging in a sodden

point like a wet deck-swab, and asked for more. That is, he asked as

well as any Christian and civilised goat could ask, by standing up on

his hind legs like a circus-horse and making strange, unearthly noises.

Then he rammed his wicked old nose into the dish again, and pushed it

all round the room, trying to sop up more liquor, which wasn't there,

and trod on Denison's canvas-slippered foot, and knocked over the little

tin kerosene oil lamp which was standing on the floor, and when Hayes,

with loud and blasphemous remarks grabbed at the ironing-blanket of the

laundry-table to extinguish the flames, he pulled the table down on the

top of Denison and himself and the goat and everything, for the blanket

was nailed on at the four corners, and when he was down on his hands and

knees, the goat being exceedingly alarmed and half-drunk, and smelling

his own hair burning, put his head down and charged at the universe in

general, or anything else he could hit, and he hit Hayes fair on the

temple with a noise like a ship's mainmast going by the board; then the

people outside burst in the door, and the creature, with a bull-like

bellow, charged out among them, and landed his bony head into the

stomach of Mataiasi, who was carrying the bucket of milk, and was afraid

to put it down when he saw him coming; then in some way the handle of

the iron bucket got on Billy MacLaggan's horns, which simply made him

thirst for gore, for he thought he was being made fun of because he was

in liquor. With the bucket swinging and clattering and banging around,

he made a dash up on the verandah, among the pretty muslin-clad ladies

and white-duck suited men, creating havoc and destruction, and smelling

of kerosene and burnt hair and ancient goat, and uttering horrible,

blood-curdling _bah-h-h-s_, till he got into the card-table corner, and

mistaking the wide glass window for an open door, he promptly jumped

through it, and fell with a shower of glass outside on to the verandah

again, where Thady O'Brien and the fat German with the spectacles fell

on him, and tried to hold him down, and the spectacles were ground into

dust and otherwise damaged, and some of the ladies endeavouring to

escape out of the hideous _mélée_ fell with him, and then the goat

struggled to his feet with the bucket squashed flat against his

forehead, and his horns covered with lace, and tulle, and bits of kid

gloves, and planted one of his cloven forefeet into the shirt-front of a

German officer, and smashed his watch. Then with another roar of

defiance he burst through and disappeared into the wilderness at the

back of Mrs. MacLaggan's garden, where he was followed by Leger, the

drunken carpenter, and his wife, and nineteen Samoans, all armed with

rifles. The army fired at him for two hours, and about midnight returned

and reported him riddled with bullets, whereupon Mrs. Molly, who was a

little hysterical at the awful mess and wreckage caused by the brute,

thanked them and gave them ten dollars.

Now it so happened that Billy MacLaggan was not killed at all, for about

two o'clock in the morning, as Bully Hayes and Tom Denison were sitting

on the verandah of the former's house at Matautu Point, drinking brandy

and soda, and dabbing arnica bandages on their various contusions, Pilot

Hamilton hailed them from the front gate. He had just left the dance

with his wife, and was quite sober--for Samoa. He asked them to come on

with him to his place, as Billy MacLaggan, he said, was lying down in

Mrs. Hamilton's kitchen, and seemed poorly, and that he hoped Hayes

would forgive the poor thing, which was only a dumb animal. So Hayes and

Denison went and saw William, who was now sober and looked sorry. They

dressed his wounds, and Tom Denison took him on board early in the

morning, intending to take him to sea till the memory of his misdeeds

had toned down a bit, for Billy was a great institution in Samoa, and

had many friends. Hardly a white man in the place, no matter how hard up

he was, but would stand Billy a bottle of lager or a chew of tobacco. (I

forgot to mention that Billy would drink anything and chew anything,

except cigarettes, at which he snorted with contempt.) Now Denison's

little vessel was lying quite near the German man-of-war, and was to

sail next day for the Solomons if the captain was sober, and he

(Denison) had a lot of work to do to get the ship ready, and whilst he

was poring over accounts in the cabin about noon, a boat ran alongside

and Bully Hayes came into the cabin.

"Where's Billy?" he said. "Quick, get him into my boat at once. There's

a search-party coming on board, and the widow is going to give you the

dirty kick-out, Tom Denison. There's been the devil to pay over that

cursed goat, but I'm going to save his life all the same. But if she

does sack you, you can come to me for a berth."

Billy, who was placidly eating bananas on the main deck, was at once

seized and hoisted over the side into Hayes's boat, which shoved off,

leaving Hayes on board to explain things to Tom.

It seemed that when the fat German manager--the man with spectacles--I

mean the man who had the spectacles until Billy MacLaggan came in--the

man who was courting Mrs. Molly--fell on the top of the goat, some other

man trod on his face, and Leger (who was not sober enough to tell one

person from another) said that he saw Tom Denison do it. Seven natives,

male and female, swore that at the time alleged Tom was out on the beach

bathing his crushed toe in the salt water, and using solemn British

oaths; but Leger, who disliked Denison, who had once kicked him

overboard violently for being drunk, not only stuck to the story, but

said that Hayes and Tom had set the goat on fire on purpose to break up

the dance and cause annoyance to the Germans present; also he vaguely

hinted that they, Denison and Hayes, would have driven the seven cows

into the ballroom but couldn't find them. Then Mrs. MacLaggan promised

the fat man to sack Denison on the following morning, and at midnight,

as I have said, word was brought in that Billy had been shot. But about

ten in the morning Leger heard from some native that the goat was as

well as ever, and on board Denison's vessel, and being a mean, spiteful

little hound, off he trotted to the German manager, and said that

Captain Hayes and Mr. Denison had rescued the creature. At that very

moment the manager was talking to some German officers, one of whom was

the man whose watch had been smashed, and as every German in Samoa hated

Hayes most fervently, it was at once concluded that Hayes had trained,

or suborned, or bribed, or corrupted the goat to do it. So a young

lieutenant went and called upon Hayes, and demanded satisfaction for his

friend, and Hayes was exceedingly rude to him, but said that if the man

with the broken watch liked to meet Billy MacLaggan with his own

weapons, and fight him in a goatsmanlike manner, for fifty dollars a

side, he (Hayes) would put up Billy's fifty. Then the lieutenant asked

for a written apology for his friend, and Hayes said that Billy couldn't

write, and, anyway, he was Mrs. Molly's goat. If the man with the

smashed nickel wanted an apology, why the blazes didn't he approach Mrs.

MacLaggan? he asked.

Whilst Hayes was telling all this to Tom, pulling his thick beard and

laughing loudly, as they paced the little vessel's deck, the

search-party came on board to recover the goat. The leader bore a letter

from Mrs. MacLaggan to Tom, informing him that his services as

supercargo were no longer required, also that he could come ashore at

once and be paid off, as his conduct was heartless, and the consuls said

it might lead to serious complications, as it had been done with intent

to insult the citizens of a friendly nation, one of whom, as he was

aware, had made the natives cut down the price of copra half a cent.

Under these circumstances, &c.

Tom grinned and showed the letter to Hayes. Then he turned to the mate.

"I've got the sack, Waters. You're in charge of this rotten, filthy old

hooker now until the old man is sober."

He packed up his traps, went ashore, drew his money from Mrs.

MacLaggan's cashier, and bade him goodbye.

"Where's the goat, Tom?"

"On board Bully Hayes' ship. His crool, crool mistress shall see him no

more! Never more shall his plaintive call to his nannies resound o'

nights among the sleeping palm-groves of the Vaisigago Valley;

never----"

The cashier jumped up out of his chair and seized the dismissed

supercargo by the collar.

"Stop that bosh, you rattlebrained young ass, and come and take a

farewell drink."

"Never more will he butt alike the just and the unjust, the fat and

bloated German merchant nor the herring-gutted Yankee skipper, nor the

bare--ah--um--legged Samoan, nor the gorgeous consul in the solar topee.

Gone is the glory of Samoa with Billy MacLaggan. Goodbye for the

present, Wade, old man--I am not so proud of my new dignity--I am to be

supercargo of the brig _Rona_--as to refuse to drink with you, though

you are but a cashier. And give my farewell to the widow, and tell her

that I bear her no ill-will, for I leave a dirty little tub of a

cockroach-infested ketch for a swagger brig, where I shall wear white

suits every day and feel that peace of mind which--"

"Oh, do dry up, you young beggar," said the good-natured cashier, whose

laughter proved so infectious that Tom joined in.

"Come then, Wade, just another ere we part."

Now as these two were drinking in the cashier's office it happened that

Thady O'Brien, the policeman (he was chief of the municipal police, and

fond of drink) saw them, and invited himself to join them and also to

express his sorrow at Denison's "misfortune," as he called it, for

Denison was a lovable sort of youth, and often gave him drink on board.

So they all sat down, Wade in the one chair, and Tom and the policeman

on the table, and had several more drinks, and just then Mrs. MacLaggan

came to the door, holding a note in her hand. She bowed coldly to Tom,

whose three stiff drinks of brandy enabled him to give her a reproachful

glance.

"Captain Hayes wants to buy one or two of the nanny-goats, to take away

with him to Ponapé, Mr. Wade," she said. "I shall be glad to let him

have them. Please tell Leger and Mataiasi to catch them at once."

Then Mrs. MacLaggan went away, and Tom and O'Brien went down to the

jetty to wait for a boat to take them on board--Tom to his duty, and

O'Brien because he was thirsty again. Presently Leger and Mataiasi and a

large concourse of native children came down, carrying two female goats,

who, imagining they were to be cast into the sea, began to cry with

great violence, and were immediately answered in a deep voice by Billy

MacLaggan from over the water, whereupon Leger started to run off and

tell Mrs. MacLaggan that Billy was alive, and on board the _Rona_, and

Denison put out his foot and tripped him, and was at once assailed by

Leger's black wife, who hit him on the head with a stick, and then

herself was pushed backwards off the jetty into the water by Mr.

O'Brien, taking several children and one of the goats with her, and in

less than two minutes there was as pretty a fight as ever was seen.

Several native police ran to help their superior officer, and a lot of

dogs came with them; the dogs bit anybody and everybody

indiscriminately, but most of them went for Leger and Denison, who were

lying gasping together on the jetty, striving to murder each other; then

a number of sailors belonging to a whaleship joined in, and tried to

massacre or otherwise injure and generally maltreat the policemen, and

by the time the boat from the _Rona_ came to the rescue the jetty looked

like a battlefield, and one goat was drowned, and the new supercargo was

taken on board to have his excoriations attended to, for he was in a

very bad state.

That is the end of the story, which I have told in a confused sort of

away, I admit, because there are so many things in it, though I could

tell a lot more about the adventures of Billy MacLaggan, after he went

to sea with Captain Bully Hayes.

_An Island Memory_

CHAPTER I

From early dawn wild excitement had prevailed in the great native

village on the shores of Port Lele, and on board two ships which were

anchored on the placid waters of the land-locked harbour. As the fleecy,

cloud-like mist which, during the night, had enveloped the forest-clad

spurs and summit of Mont Buache, was dispelled by the first airs of the

awakened trade wind and the yellow shafts of sunrise, a fleet or canoes

crowded with natives put off from the sandy beach in front of the king's

house, and paddled swiftly over towards the ships, the captains of which

only awaited their arrival to weigh and tow out through the passage.

As the mist lifted, Cayse, the master of the _Iroquois_ of Sagharbour,

stepped briskly up on the poop, and hailed the skipper of the other

vessel, a small, yellow-painted barque of less than two hundred tons.

"Are you ready, Captain Ross?"

"All ready," was the answer; "only waiting for the military," and then

followed a hoarse laugh.

Cayse, a little, grizzled, and leathern-faced man of fifty, replied by

an angry snarl, then turned to his mate, who stood beside him awaiting

his orders.

"Get these natives settled down as quickly as possible, Mr. North, then

start to heave-up and loose sails. I reckon we'll tow out in an hour.

The king will be here presently in his own boat. Hoist it aboard."

North nodded in silence, and was just moving on to the main deck, when

Cayse stopped him.

"You don't seem too ragin' pleased this mornin', Mr. North, over this

business. Naow, as I told you yesterday, I admire your feelin's on the

subject, but I can't afford--"

The mate's eyes blazed with anger.

"And I tell you again that I won't have anything to do with it. I know

my duty, and mean to stick to it. I shipped for a whaling voyage, and

not to help savages to fight. Take my advice and give it up. Money got

in this way will do you no good."

Cayse shifted his feet uneasily.

"I can't afford to sling away the chance of earnin' two or three

thousan' dollars so easy. An' you'll hev to do your duty to me. Naow,

look here--"

North raised his hand.

"That will do. I have said I will do my duty as mate, but not a hand's

turn will I take in such bloody work as you and the skipper of that

crowd of Sydney cut-throats and convicts are going into for the sake of

six thousand dollars."

"Well, I reckon we can do without you. Any one would think we was going

piratin', instead of helping the king of this island to his rights.

Naow, just tell me--"

Again the mate interrupted him.

"I am going for'ard to get the anchor up, and will obey all your orders

as far as the working of the ship is concerned--nothing more."

An hour later the two vessels, their decks crowded with three hundred

savages, armed with muskets, spears, and clubs, were towed out through

the narrow, reef-bound passage, and with the now freshening trade wind

filling their sails, set a course along the coast which before sunset

would bring them to Leassé, on the lee side of the island. But

presently, in response to a signal from the _Lucy May_, the whaler lay

to; a boat put off from the smaller ship, and Captain Ross came

alongside, clambered over the bulwarks and joined Cayse and the young

king of Port Lele, who were awaiting him on the poop, to discuss with

him the plan of surprise and slaughter of the offending people of

Leassé.

* * * * *

Nearly a week before the _Iroquois_ had run into Port Lele to refresh

before proceeding westward and northward to the Bonin Islands in

pursuance of her cruise. Charlik, the king, was delighted to see Cayse,

for in the days when his father was king the American captain had

conveyed a party of one hundred Strong's Islanders from Port Lele to

MacAskill's Island, landed them in his boats during the night, and stood

off and on till daylight, when they returned reeking from their work of

slaughter upon the sleeping people, and bringing with them some scores

of women and children as captives. For this service the king had given

Cayse half a ton of turtle-shell, and the services of ten young men as

seamen for as long a time as the _Iroquois_ cruised in the Pacific on

that voyage. When Charlik's father was dying, he called his head chiefs

around him, and gave the boy into their care with these words--"Here die

I upon my mat like a woman, long before my time, and to-morrow my spirit

will hear the mocking laughs of the men of Môut and Leassé, when they

say, 'Sikra is dead; Sikra was but an empty boaster.'"

Then his son spoke.

"Not many days shall they laugh. They shall be destroyed all, all, all

of them."

The king touched his son's hand.

"Those are good words. But be not too hasty. Wait till the American

comes again. He will help with his men and guns. But he is a greedy man.

Yet spare nothing; give him all the silver and gold money I have stored

by for his return, and all the turtle-shell that can be gathered

together. And let there be not even one little child left in Môut or

Leassé."

Charlik was a lad or seventeen when his savage old father died, and for

a year after his death he harried and distressed his people by his

exactions. All day long the men toiled at making coconut oil, and at

night time they watched along the beaches for the hawk-bill turtle; the

oil they put into huge butts, which stood in the king's boat-sheds, and

the costly turtle-shell was taken by the young ruler and locked up in

the seamen's chests which lined the inside wall of the great

council-house. And no man durst now fire a musket at a wild pig, for

powder and ball had been made _tapu_--such things were given up to the

chiefs, lest they might be wasted, and every morning three young men

climbed up the rugged side of Mont Buache, to keep a look-out for the

ship whose captain would help their master to wreak a bloody vengeance

upon the rebellious people of Leassé.

At the end of the sixteenth month of watching, a sail appeared coming

from the southward, and the watchers on the mountain-top sped down to

the king's house, and sinking upon their knees in the courtyard of coral

slabs, whispered their news to one of the king's serving-men, who, with

a musket in his hand and a cutlass girt around his naked waist, stood

sentry before the youthful despot's sleeping-room.

"Good," said the king to Kanka, his head chief; "'tis surely the

American Késa,[13] for this is the month in which he said he would

return. Let the women make ready a great feast, and launch my three

boats, so that if the wind fail, when the sun is high, they may help to

drag the ship into Lele."

Then came the sound of beating drums, and the long, mournful note of the

conch-shells calling the wild people together to prepare for the ship.

Turtle were lifted from their walled-in prison holes on the reef, hogs

were strangled, and the king's wives went hither and thither among his

slave women, bidding them hasten to kindle the ovens, whilst children

went out into the great canework cage, wherein were hundreds of the

king's wild pigeons, and seizing the birds, began to pluck them alive.

An hour passed. Charlik, sitting in a European chair, was watching the

wild bustle and excitement around him in the courtyard, when his eye

fell on the three messengers, who, with bent head and bended knees, were

awaiting his further commands.

Beckoning to a young, light-skinned woman, who stood near him, he bade

her bring him three of his best pearl-shell bonito hooks. They were

brought, and taking them from her, he threw them to the men.

"Ye have watched well," he said. "There is thy reward. Now go and eat

and sleep."

With eyes sparkling with pleasure, the young men each took up his

precious gift, and with crouching forms crept slowly over to the further

side of the courtyard, where they were waited upon by women with food.

Presently the fair young woman--his sister Sè--returned to her brother's

side.

"The ship is near," she said, and then her voice faltered; "but it is

not the ship of Késa. It is but a small ship, and she hath but two

boats. Késa's had five."

"What lies are these?" said the young savage fiercely. "Go look again."

The girl left him, to return a few minutes later with grey-headed old

Kanka, who in response to an inquiring look from his master, bent his

head and said slowly--

"'Tis a strange ship--one that never before have we seen in Lele."

The youth made him no answer. He merely raised his arm and pointed his

finger at the three messengers.

"Then they have lied to me. Bring them here to me."

Kanka stepped over to where the fated men were sitting. They rose at his

behest, and crept over to the king; behind them, at some invisible sign

given by him, followed a man with a heavy club of _toa_ wood. The

clamour which had filled the courtyard ceased, and terrified silence

fell. One by one the messengers knelt upon the coral flags--no need for

them to ask for mercy from Charlik, the savage son of a bloodstained

father. The bearer of the club held the weapon knob downward, and

watched the king's face for the signal of death. He nodded, and then,

one after another of the men were struck and fell prone upon the stones.

With scowling eyes Charlik regarded them for a moment or two in silence,

then he turned unconcernedly away, as some of his slaves came forward

and carried the bodies out of sight.

Suddenly he sprang to his feet, as a loud, long cry, first from a single

throat, and then echoed and reechoed by a hundred more, came upward from

the beach.

"A ship! A ship! Another ship! The ship of Késa!"

Bidding his sister and the old chief Kanka to come with him, Charlik

quickly left the house, and walking through a grove of breadfruit trees,

reached a spot from where he had a full view of the open sea. There

right in the passage was a small barque; and, almost within hail, and

just rounding the northern horn of the reef was a larger vessel, one

glance at which told Charlik that it was the American whaler for which

he had so long waited. In less than an hour they were at anchor abreast

of the king's house, and the two captains were being rowed ashore. They

met on the beach. The master of the smaller vessel was a tall,

broad-shouldered man, armed with a pair of pistols and a cutlass.

Striding over the sand he held out his hand to the American.

"Good day. My name's Ross, barque _Lucy May_, of Sydney, from the New

Hebrides to Hong Kong with sandalwood."

"Glad to meet ye. My name is Cayse, ship _Iroquois_, bound on a sperm

whalin' cruise."

Further speech was denied them, for suddenly the thronging and excited

natives around them drew aside right and left as Charlik, with a face

beaming with smiles, came up to Cayse with outstretched hand, and

greeted him warmly in English. Then he turned quickly to the Englishman

and shook hands with him also, and asked him from whence he came.

"From Sydney. I came here to get wood, water, and provisions."

"Good. You can get all you want. Have you muskets and bullets to sell?"

"I can spare you some."

"Ah, that is good. I want plenty, plenty. Now come to my house and eat

and drink; then we can talk."

It was well on towards sunset before Charlik and Cayse had finished

their talk. Ross meanwhile had gone on board the barque for some

firearms which he was giving the king in exchange for several boatloads

of provisions. When he returned, with two of his crew carrying six

muskets, a keg of powder, and a bag of bullets, Cayse met him on the

threshold of the king's house.

"Come inside, mister. The king wants to talk to you on a matter of

business. I reckon you an' me together can do what he wants done. But

jest come along with me first. I want to show you the kind of fellow he

is when he gets upset."

The master of the sandalwooder followed the American across the wide

courtyard to some native houses. Stopping in front of one, from which

the low murmur of women's voices, broken now and then by a wailing cry,

proceeded, he desired Ross to look in through the doorway. A small fire

of coconut shells was burning in the centre of the room, and _by_ its

light Ross saw several women crouched round the bodies of three men,

performing the last offices for the dead. They looked at the white

strangers with apathetic indifference, but ceased their labours whilst

Ross bent down and examined the still faces. His scrutiny was brief,

but it was enough.

Cayse gave a sniggering laugh. "I reckon you'll feel sorter startled,

mister, when I tell you that you were the cause of those men getting

clubbed, hey?"

Ross frowned angrily. "What are you driving at? What the devil had I to

do with it?"

"On'y this. You see I'm the white-headed boy with this young island

cock, an' he's been expectin' to see the _Iroquois_ for quite a time.

Your barque happened to heave in sight first, an' these three fellows

who were standin' mast-head watch up thar on the mountain, came tearin'

down an' reported that it was my old hooker. Charlik bein' a most

impatient young fellow, had 'em clubbed on the spot; he should hev

waited another five minutes. Come on, he's ready to talk business with

us now."

In the centre of the big council room Charlik, attended by his sister,

was seated upon a mat. A couple of brightly burning ship's lanterns

suspended from the beams overhead, revealed the figures of a score of

armed natives, seated with their backs to the canework walls of the

room; midway between them and the young king were two seamen's chests,

beside which crouched the half-naked, tatooed form or old Kanka.

Followed by the sailors carrying the muskets, the two captains walked

over the soft, springy floor of mats, and seated themselves facing the

young man. His eye lit up at the sight of the arms, and then he desired

Ross to tell his men to withdraw. Then as the sound of their footsteps

died away, he looked at Cayse and said briefly--

"Go on, capèn. You talk."

Cayse went into the subject at once.

"Captain Ross, do you want to earn three thousand dollars?"

"Don't mind."

"Neither do I. Well, just listen. The king here has three thousand

dollars in cash and three thousand dollars' worth of coconut ile and

turtle-shell. Now, if you and I will help him to do a bit of fightin'

it's ours. The money and shell is here in this room, the ile is in the

sheds near by. If you agree, the king will hand us over the money now,

and we can ship the ile in the morning."

Ross thought a moment, then he said suspiciously--

"Why are you giving me a chance?"

"Not from any feelin' of affection for you, mister," answered Cayse with

his peculiar snarl, "but because I ain't able to do the whole business

myself--if I could I wouldn't ask _you_ to come in. Now, I noticed this

mornin' that you carry a big crew, and have six guns, and I reckon thet

you hev to use 'em sometimes in your business?"

Ross laughed grimly. "All of us sandalwooding ships carry a few

nine-pounders as well as plenty of small arms. We are allowed to do so

by the Governor of New South Wales."

"Just so. Well, now, listen. This island is governed by two chiefs;

this one here, Charlik, has most people, but the other lot, who live on

the lee side of the island, rebelled against his father more'n ten years

ago. They've had a good many fights, an' in the last one these Lele

people got badly whipped. Charlik is the proper king, but ever since a

white man named Ledyard went to live with the Leassé people, they've

refused to pay tribute. This Ledyard is the cause of all the trouble,

and he has taught his natives how to fight European fashion. There's

only about six hundred of 'em altogether--men, women, and

children--eh, Charlik?"

The young chief nodded in assent.

"Now, by a bit of luck, news came up the other day by one of Charlik's

spies that Ledyard has gone away to Ponapé in a cutter he has built. It

will take him two or three weeks to go there and back, and now is the

time for Charlik to wipe out old scores--the Leassé people won't stand

much of a chance agin' a night attack by three hundred of Charlik's

people. If Ledyard was there it would be different."

Ross soon made his decision. He was a man utterly without pity, and

Cayse who, while inciting others to slaughter for the sake of his own

gain, yet had some grains of compunction in his nature, almost shuddered

when the master of the _Lucy May_ laughed hoarsely and said--

"It's a bargain--just the thing that my crowd could tackle and carry

through themselves. Two voyages ago me and my beauties wiped out every

living soul on one of the Cartaret's Islands. I'll tell you the yarn

some day. But look here, king, can't we make another deal about the

women and children. Let me keep as many of them as I have room for

aboard, and I'll pay for them in muskets and powder and bullets."

"What do you want with them?"

"Sell them to old Abba Dul, the king of the Pelews. I've done business

with him before."

Charlik called Kanka over to him, and the two spoke in low tones. Then

the young ruler of Lele shook his head.

"No. There must be but one left to live--the white man's wife. Now we

shall count this money."

The boxes were carried over directly under the rays of the lamps and

opened, the bags containing the money lifted out, the coins counted, and

then evenly divided between the two wolves.

On the following morning the casks of oil were rolled down to the beach

and rafted off to the two ships, and before dawn, on the fourth day,

Ross and his fellow-ruffian sent word ashore to the king that all was

ready, and that he and his fighting men could come on board at once and

proceed on their dreadful mission.