"Not one of the native women could answer her. They were all simply

dumbfounded at such a gross insult, and left the cabin in silence. The

mate tried to smooth things over, but one of the women--Mataafa's

niece--gave him a look that told him to say no more. In half an hour the

whole lot of them were back on the beach, and came up to the chiefs

house, where the skipper and myself were having a final drink of kava

with old Mataafa and his _faipule_.[16] The face of the elder of the two

women was blazing with anger, and then, pointing to the captain and

myself, she gave us such a tongue-lashing for sending her off to the

ship to be shamed and insulted, that made us blush. Old Mataafa waited

until she had finished, and then, with an ugly gleam in his eye but

speaking very quietly, asked us what it meant.

"What _could_ we say but that it was no fault of ours; and then, by a

happy inspiration, I added that although Miss Weidermann was generally

well-conducted enough, she sometimes got blazing drunk, and made a beast

of herself. This explanation satisfied the chiefs, if not the women, and

everything went on smoothly. And as it was then nearly dark, and I was

determined that Mataafa should get his rifles, half a dozen of his men

took us off in their canoes, and we went on board. The skipper and I had

fixed up as to what we should do with the Weidermann creature. She was

seated at the cabin table waiting to open out on us, but the skipper

didn't give her a chance.

"'Go to your cabin at once, madam,' he said solemnly, 'and I trust you

will not again leave it in your present condition. Your conduct is

simply astounding. _Steward, see that you give Miss Weidermann no more

grog_.'

"The poor old girl thought that either he or she herself was going mad,

but he gave her no time to talk. The captain opened her state-room door,

gently pushed her in, and put a man outside to see that she didn't come

out again. Then we handed out the rifles through the stern-ports to the

natives in the canoes, and sent them away rejoicing. And that's the end

of the yarn, and Miss Weidermann nearly went into a fit next morning

when we told her that no less than thirty respectable native women had

taken their oaths that she was mad drunk, and abused them vilely."

The junior partner laughed loudly at the story, and Otway, with a more

amiable look on his face, rose.

"Well, I'll do what I can for these people. I'll make room for them

somehow. Where are they going?"

"Samoa. They have an idea of settling down there, I think, for a few

months, and then going on to China. They have plenty of money,

apparently."

"Oh, well, tell them to come on board to-morrow, and I'll show them what

can be done for them."

* * * * *

So the Rev. and Mrs. Lacy did come on board, and Mr. Charles Otway was

vanquished by just one single glance from the lady's violet eyes.

"It would have been such a dreadful disappointment to us if we could not

have obtained passages in the _Tucopia_," she said, in her soft, sweet

voice, as she sank back in the deck-chair he placed before her. "My

husband is so bent on making a tour through Samoa. Now, do tell me, Mr.

Otway, are these islands so very lovely?"

"Very, very lovely, Mrs. Lacy," replied Otway, leaning with his back

against the rail and regarding her with half-closed eyes; "as sweet and

fair to look upon as a lovely woman--a woman with violet eyes and lips

like a budding rose."

She gave him one swift glance, seemingly in anger, yet her eyes smiled

into his; then she bent her head and regarded the deck with intense

interest. Otway thought he had scored. She was sure _she_ had.

Otway had just shown her and her husband his own cabin, and had told

them that they could occupy it--he would make himself comfortable in the

trade-room, he said. This was after the first look from the violet eyes.

* * * * *

Robertson, the skipper, came aboard, shook hands with Mrs. Lacy and her

husband, nodded to the other passengers, dived below for a moment or

two, and then reappeared on deck, full of energy, blasphemy, and anxiety

to get under way. In less than an hour the smart barque was outside the

Heads, and heeling over to a brisk south-westerly breeze. Two days later

she was four hundred miles on her course.

The Rev. Wilfrid Lacy soon made himself very agreeable to the rest of

the passengers, who all agreed that he was a splendid type of parson,

and even Otway, who had as much principle as a rat and began making love

to his wife from the outset, liked him. First of all, he was not the

usual style of travelling clergyman. He didn't say grace at meals, he

smoked a pipe, drank whisky and brandy with Otway and Robertson, told

rattling good stories, and displayed an immediate interest when the

skipper mentioned that the second mate was a "bit of a bruiser," and

that there were gloves on board; and the second mate, a nuggety little

Tynesider, at once consented to a friendly mill as soon as he was off

duty.

"Wilfrid," said Mrs. Lacy, "you'll shock every one. I can see that

Captain Robertson wonders what sort of a clergyman you are."

Robertson saw the merry light in her dark eyes, and then laughed aloud

as he saw Miss Weidermann's face. It expressed the very strongest

disapproval, and during the rest of the meal the virgin lady preserved a

dismal silence. The rest of the passengers, however, "took" to the

clerical gentleman at once. With old Father Roget--the Marist

missionary who sat opposite him--he soon entered into an animated

conversation, while the two De Boos girls, vivacious Samoan half-castes,

attached themselves to his wife. Seated beside Otway was another

passenger, an American skipper named Burr, who was going to Apia to take

command of a vessel belonging to the same firm as the _Tucopia_. He was

a silent, good-looking man of about sixty, and possessed of much caustic

humour and a remarkable fund of smoking-room stories, which, on rare

occasions, he would relate in an inimitable, drawling manner, as if he

was tired. The chief mate was a deeply but not obtrusively religious

Scotsman; the second officer, Allen, was a young man of thirty, an

excellent seaman, but rough to the verge of brutality with the crew.

Bruce, on the other hand, was too easy-going and patient.

"I never want to raise my hand against a man," he said one day, as a

protest, when Allen gave one of the crew an unmerciful cuff which sent

him down as if he had been shot.

"Neither do I," replied Allen, "I prefer raising my foot. But it's

habit, Mr. Bruce, only habit."

For five days the barque ran steadily on an E.N.E. course, then on the

sixth day the wind hauled, and by sunset it was blowing hard from the

eastward with a fast-gathering sea. By two in the morning Robertson and

his officers knew that they were in for a three-days' easterly gale; a

few hours later it was decided to heave-to, as the sea had become

dangerous, and the little vessel was straining badly. Just after this

had been done, the gale set in with redoubled fury, and when Mrs. Lacy

came on deck shortly before breakfast, she shuddered at the wild

spectacle. Coming to the break of the poop, she clasped the iron rail

with both hands, and gazed fearfully about her.

"You had better go below, ma'am," said the second mate, who was standing

near, talking to Otway, "there's some nasty, lumpy seas."

Then he gave a yell.

"Look out there!"

Springing to Mrs. Lacy's side, he clasped his left arm around her waist,

and held on tightly to the iron rail with his right, just as a vast

mountain of water took the barque amidships, fell on her deck with

terrific force, and fairly buried her from the topgallant foc'scle to

the level of the poop. In less than half a minute the galley, for'ard

deck-house, long-boat, which was lying on the main hatch, and the port

bulwarks had vanished, together with three poor seamen who were asleep

in the deck-house. The fearful crash brought the captain flying on deck.

One glance showed him that there was no chance of saving the men--to

attempt to lower a boat in such a sea was utterly impossible, and would

be madness itself. He sighed, and then took off his cap. Allen and Otway

followed his example.

"Is there no hope for them?" Mrs. Lacy whispered to Otway.

"None," replied the supercargo in a low voice. "None." Then he urged her

to go below, as it was not safe for her to remain on deck. She went at

once, and met her husband just as he was leaving their cabin.

"What is the matter, Nell?" he asked, as he saw that tears were in her

eyes.

"Three poor men have been carried overboard, Wilfrid. They were in the

deck-house asleep ten minutes ago--now they are gone! Oh, isn't it

dreadful, dreadful!" And then she sat down beside him and wept silently.

Breakfast was a forlorn meal--Robertson and his officers were not

present, and Otway took the captain's seat. He, too, only remained to

drink a cup of coffee, then hurriedly went on deck. Lacy rose at the

same time, but at the foot of the companion, Otway motioned him to stop.

"Don't come on deck awhile, if you please," he said, "and tell the

ladies to keep to the cabin."

"Anything fresh gone wrong?"

"Yes," replied the supercargo, looking steadily at the clergyman--"the

ship is making water badly. Don't you hear the pumps going? Tell the

ladies not to come on deck--say it is not safe. And if the old

Weidermann girl hears the pumps, and gets inquisitive, tell her that a

lot of water got into the hold when that big sea tumbled aboard. She's

an inquisitive old ass, and would be bound to tell the other ladies that

the ship is in danger."

Lacy nodded. "All right, I'll see to her. How long has the ship been

leaking?"

"For quite a long time. And there is fourteen inches in her, and it's as

much as we can do to keep it under."

"That is serious."

Otway nodded. "Yes, it is serious in weather like this. Now I must go.

Daresay we may give you a call in the course of the morning. Ever try a

spell at old-fashioned brake pumps? Fine exercise."

"I'm ready now if you want me," was the quiet answer.

The _Tucopia_ was indeed in a pretty bad case. Immediately after the

fatal sea had swept her decks the carpenter had sounded the well and

found fifteen inches of water, some little of which had got below

through the fore-scuttle, but the greater portion, it was soon evident,

was the result of a leak. The barque was a comparatively new vessel, and

Robertson and his officers, after two hours' pumping, came to the

conclusion that she had either strained herself badly or a butt-end had

started somewhere.

For two hours the crew worked at the pumps, taking a spell of ten

minutes every half-hour, Otway, the American captain Burr, and Mr. Lacy

all lending a hand. Then the well was sounded, and showed two inches

less.

Robertson ordered the men to come aft and get a glass of grog. They

trooped down into the cabin wet and exhausted, and the steward served

them each out half a tumblerful of good French brandy. They drank it

off, and then went on deck again to have a smoke before resuming

pumping. A quarter of an hour later the pumps choked. There were a

hundred tons of coal in the lower hold, and some of the small of it had

been drawn up. By the time the carpenter had them cleared the water had

gained seven inches, and the little barque was labouring heavily. Again,

however, the willing crew turned to and pumped steadily for another

hour, but only succeeded in reducing the water by an inch or two. Then

Robertson called his officers together and consulted.

"We can't keep on like this much longer," he said, "the water is gaining

on us too fast. And we can't run before such a sea as this, in our

condition; we should be pooped in less than five minutes. We shall have

to take to the boats in another couple of hours, unless a change takes

place. Mr. Allen, and you, Mr. Otway, see to the two boats, and get them

in readiness."

Then he went below to the passengers. They were all seated in the main

cabin, and looked anxiously at him as he entered.

"I am sorry to tell you, ladies," he said quietly, "that the ship is

leaking so badly that I fear we shall have to abandon her. The men

cannot keep on pumping much longer, now that we are three hands short.

Fortunately we have two good boats, and, if we must take to them, shall

have no trouble in reaching land."

They heard him in silence, then the old priest opened his state-room

door, and came out.

"That is bad news indeed, captain," he said gently. "Still we must bow

to God's will, and trust to His guidance and protection. And you and

your officers and crew are good and brave seamen."

"Thank you, father. We'll do all right if we have to take to the boats.

And you must try and cheer up the ladies. Now I must leave you all for

awhile. We will stick to the pumps for another hour or two."

"Captain," said Sarah de Boos, a tall, finely built young woman of

twenty, "let my sister and myself and our servant help the men at the

pump. _Do_, please. We are all three very strong, and our help is surely

worth having."

Robertson patted her soft cheek with his big, sunburnt hand. "You are

your father's daughter, Sarah, and I thank you. Of course your help

would be something; three fine lusty young women"--he tried to

smile--"but it's too dangerous for you to be on deck. All the bulwarks

are gone, and nasty lumping seas come aboard every now and then."

"I'm not afraid of a life-line hurting my waist," was the prompt answer,

"and neither is Sukie--are you Sukie? Go on deck, captain, and Sukie and

I and Mina" (the servant) "will just kick off our boots and follow you."

"And I too," broke in old Father Roget. "Surely I am not too old to

help."

In less than five minutes the two half-caste girls, the native woman

Mina, and the old priest, were working the starboard brake, three seamen

being on the lee side. Every now and then, as the barque took a heavy

roll to windward, the water would flood her deck up to the workers'

knees; but they stuck steadily to their task for half an hour, when they

gave place to Burr, the carpenter, the Rev. Wilfrid, and three native

seamen.

In the cabin Mrs. Lacy sat with ashen-hued face beside Miss Weidermann,

their hands clasped together, and listening to the wild clamour of the

wind and sea. Presently the two De Boos girls, Lacy, Father Roget, and

Mina, came below to rest awhile, the water streaming from their sodden

garments. The old priest, thoroughly exhausted, threw himself down upon

the transom locker cushions.

"Wilfrid," said Mrs. Lacy coming over to him and placing her shaking

hand on his shoulder, "cannot I do something? Oh, Miss De Boos, I wish I

were brave, like you. But I am not--I am a coward, and I hate myself for

it."

The Rev. Wilfrid smiled tenderly at her as he drew her to him for a

moment. "Don't worry, little woman. You can't do anything--yes, you can,

though! Get me my pipe and fill it for me. My hands are wet and

cramped."

Sukie De Boos, whose firm, rounded bosom and strong square shoulders

made a startling contrast, as they revealed their shape under her

soddened blouse, to Mrs. Lacy's fragile figure, impulsively put her

hands out, and taking Mrs. Lacy's face between them, kissed her twice.

"Dear Mrs. Lacy," she said, "don't be frightened, please. Now get Mr.

Lacy's pipe, and I'll rummage the steward's pantry and get some food for

us all to eat. Mr. Otway told me to tell you and Miss Weidermann to eat

something, as maybe we may not get anything for some hours. So I'm just

going to stay here and see that every one _does_ eat. I'll set you a

good example."

In a few minutes she laid upon the table an assortment of tinned meats,

bread, and some bottled beer, and some brandy for Father Roget and Lacy.

Otway came down, followed by the steward, and nodded approval.

"That's right, Sukie. Eat as much as you can. I'll take a drink myself.

Here's luck to you, Sukie. Perhaps we won't have to make up a boating

party after all. But there's nothing like being ready. So will you, Mr.

Lacy, lend a hand here with the steward, and pass up our provisions to

the second mate? The captain will be down in a minute, and will tell you

ladies what clothing to get ready. For my part I'll be jolly glad if we

do have to take to the boats, where we shall be nice and comfy, instead

of rolling about in this beastly way--I'll be sea-sick in another ten

minutes. Old Bruce says he felt sick an hour ago. Come on, steward."

The assumed cheerfulness of his manner produced a good effect, and even

old Miss Weidermann plucked up heart a little as she saw him

nonchalantly light a cigar as he disappeared with the steward below into

the lazzarette.

On deck Robertson and the mate were talking in low tones, as they

assisted the second mate with the boats. There was now nearly three feet

of water in the hold, and every one knew that the barque could not keep

afloat much longer. Fortunately the violence of the wind had decreased

somewhat, though there was still a mountainous sea.

Both the old mate and the captain knew that the two small quarter boats

would be dangerously overladen, and their unspoken fears were shared by

the rest of the officers and crew. But another hour would perhaps make a

great difference; and then as the two men were speaking a savage sea

smote the _Tucopia_ on the starboard bow, with such violence that she

trembled in every timber, and as she staggered under the shock and then

rolled heavily to windward, she dipped the starboard quarter boat under

the water; it filled, and as she rose again, boat and davits went away

together.

Robertson groaned and looked at the mate.

"It is God's will, sir," said the old Scotsman quietly.

Robertson nodded. "Tell Allen and the others to come here," he said.

The Tynesider, followed by Captain Burr, Otway, and the carpenter, came.

"Mr. Allen," said the captain, "you are the best man in such an

emergency as this. You handle a boat better than any man I know. There

is now only one boat left, and you must take charge of her. You will

have to take a big lot of people--the four women, the parson, the old

French priest, Mr. Otway, Captain Burr, the carpenter, and the five

men."

"I guess I'll stand out, and stick to the ship," said Burr in a lazy,

drawling manner, "I don't like bein' crowded up with a lot of wimmen."

"Neither do I, said Otway.

"Same here, captain," said the carpenter, a little grizzled man of

sixty.

Robertson shook hands with each of them in turn. "I knew you were

_men_," he said simply. "Come below and let's have a drink together, and

then see to the boat."

"What's all this, skipper?" said Allen, with an oath, "d'ye think I'm

going to save my carcase and let you men drown? I'll see you all damned

first!"

"You'll obey orders," growled the captain, "and my orders are that you

take charge of that boat. And don't give me any lip. You are a married

man and have children. None of us who are standing by the ship are

married men. By God, my joker, if you don't know your duty, I'll teach

you. Are you going to let these four women go adrift in a boat to perish

when you can save them?"

Allen looked the captain squarely in the face and then put out his hand.

"I understand you, sir. But I don't like doing it. The ship won't keep

afloat another hour. But, as you say, I've a wife and kids to consider."

* * * * *

Followed by the others, Robertson went below, and told his passengers to

get ready for the boat. The old French priest, exhausted by his labour

at the pumps, was still lying on the transom cushions, sleeping; the

Rev. Lacy was seated at the table smoking his pipe (all the ladies were

in their state-rooms). He rose as the men entered, and looked at them

inquiringly.

"We're in a bit of a tight place," said the captain, as he coolly

poured out half a tumblerful of brandy, "but I'm sending you, Mr. Lacy,

and Father Roget, and the ladies away with Mr. Allen in one of the

boats. Allen is a man whom I rely upon. He'll bring you ashore safely.

He's a bit rough in his talk, but he's one of God's own chosen in a

boat, and a fine sailor man--better than the mate, Captain Burr, or

myself; isn't that so, Mr. Bruce?"

The white-haired old mate bent his head in acknowledgment. Then he stood

up stiff and stark, his rough bony hands clasped upon his chest.

"I'll no' deny but that Mr. Allen is far and awa' the best man to have

charge o' the boat. But as there is a meenister here, surely he will now

offer up a prayer to the Almighty for those in peril on the sea, and

especially implore Him to consider a sma' boat, deep to the gunwales."

He looked at the clergyman, who at first made no reply, but stood with

downcast eyes. The men looked at him expectantly; he put one hand on the

table, and then slowly raised his face.

"I think, gentlemen, that ... that Father Roget is the older man." He

spoke haltingly, and a flush dyed his smooth, clean-shaven face from

brow to chin. "Will you not ask him?" Then his eyes dropped again.

Robertson, who was in a hurry, and yet had a sincere but secret respect

for old Bruce's unobtrusive religious feelings, now backed up his mate's

request.

"I think, sir, that as the mate says, a bit of a short prayer would not

be out of place just now, seeing the mess we are in. And that poor old

gentleman over there is too done up to stand on his feet. So will you

please begin, sir. Steward, call the ladies. We can no longer disguise

from them, Mr. Lacy, that we are in a bad way--as bad a way as I have

ever been in during my thirty years at sea."

In a couple of minutes the two De Boos girls, Miss Weidermann, and the

native girl Mina, came out of their cabins; and when the steward said

that Mrs. Lacy felt too ill to leave her berth, her husband could not

help giving an audible sigh of relief. Then he braced up and spoke with

firmness.

"Please shut Mrs. Lacy's door, steward. Mr. Bruce, will you lend me your

church service--I do not want to go into my cabin for my own. My wife, I

fear, has given way."

The mate brought the church service, and then whilst the men stood with

bowed heads, and the women knelt, the clergyman, with strong,

unfaltering voice read the second of the prayers "To be used in Storms

at Sea." He finished, and then sitting down again, placed one hand over

his eyes.

"_The living, the living shall praise Thee_."

It was the old mate who spoke. He alone of the men had knelt beside the

women, and when he rose his face bore such an expression of calmness and

content, that Otway, who five minutes before had been silently cursing

him for his "damned idiotcy," looked at him with a sudden mingled

respect and wonder.

Stepping across to the clergyman, Bruce respectfully placed his hand on

his shoulder, and as he spoke his clear blue eyes smiled at the still

kneeling women.

"Cheer up, sir. God will protect ye and your gude wife, and us all. You,

his meenister, have made supplication to Him, and He has heard. Dinna

weep, ladies. We are in the care of One who holds the sea in the hollow

of His hand."

Then he followed the captain and the others on deck, Otway alone

remaining to assist the steward.

"For God's sake give me some brandy," said Lacy to him, in a low voice.

Otway looked at him in astonishment. Was the man a coward after all?

He brought the brandy, and with ill-disguised contempt placed it before

him without a word. Lacy looked up at him, and his face flushed.

"Oh, I'm not funking--not a d----d bit, I can assure you."

Otway at once poured out a nip of brandy for himself, and clinked his

glass against that of the clergyman.

"Pon my soul, I couldn't make it out, and I apologise. But a man's

nerves go all at once sometimes--can't help himself, you know. Mine did

once when I was in the nigger-catching business in the Solomon Islands.

Natives opened fire on us when our boats were aground in a creek, and

some of our men got hit. I wasn't a bit scared of a smack from a bullet,

but when I got a scratch on my hand from an arrow, I dropped in a blue

funk, and acted like a cur. Knew it was poisoned, felt sure I'd die of

lockjaw, and began to weep internally. Then the mate called me a rotten

young cur, shook me up, and put my Snider into my hand. But I shall

always feel funky at the sight even of a child's twopenny bow and arrow.

Now I must go."

The clergyman nodded and smiled, and then rising from his seat, he

tapped at the door of his wife's state-room. She opened it, and then

Otway, who was helping the steward, heard her sob hysterically.

"Oh, Will, Will, why did you? How could you? I love you, Will dear, I

love you, and if death comes to us in another hour, another minute, I

shall die happily with your arms round me. But, Will dear, there is a

God, I'm sure there _is_ a God.... I feel it in my heart, I feel it. And

now that death is so near to us----"

Lacy put his arms around her, and lifted her trembling figure upon his

knees.

"There, rest yourself, my pet."

"Rest! Rest?" she said brokenly, as Lacy drew her to him. "How can I

rest when I think of how I have sinned, and how I shall die! Will dear,

when I heard you reading that prayer--"

"I _had_ to do it, Nell."

"Will, dear Will.... Perhaps God may forgive us both.... But as I sat

here in my dark cabin, and listened to you reading that prayer, my

husband's face came before me--the face that I thought was so dull and

stupid. And his eyes seemed so soft and kind--"

"For God's sake, my dear little woman, don't think of what is past. We

have made the plunge together----"

The woman uttered one last sobbing sigh. "I am not afraid to die, Will.

I am not afraid, but when I heard you begin to read that prayer, my

courage forsook me. I wanted to scream--to rush out and stop you, for it

seemed to me as if you were doing it in sheer mockery."

"I can only say again, Nell, that I could not help myself; made me feel

pretty sick, I assure you."

Their voices ceased, and presently Lacy stepped out into the main cabin,

and then went on deck again.

Robertson met him with a cheerful face. "Come on, Mr. Lacy. I've some

good news for you--we are making less water! The leak must be taking up

in some way." Then holding on to the rail with one hand, he shouted to

the men at the pumps.

"Shake her up, boys! shake her up. Here's Mr. Lacy come to lend a hand,

and the supercargo and steward will be with you in a minute. Now I'm

going below for a minute to tell the ladies, and mix you a bucket of

grog. Shake her up, you, Tom Tarbucket, my bully boy with a glass eye!

Shake her up, and when she sucks dry, I'll stand a sovereign all round."

The willing crew answered him with a cheer, and Tom Tarbucket, a

square-built, merry faced native of Savage Island, who was stripped to

the waist, shouted out, amid the laughter of his shipmates--

"Ay, ay, capt'in, we soon make pump suck dry if two Miss de Boos girl

come."

Robertson laughed in response, and then picking up a wooden bucket from

under the fife rail, clattered down the companion way.

"Where are you, Otway? Up you get on deck, and you too, steward. The

leak is taken up and 'everything is lovely and the goose hangs high.' Up

you go to the pumps, and make 'em suck. I'll bring up some grog

presently."

Then as Otway and the steward sprang up on deck, the captain stamped

along the cabin in his sodden sea boots, banging at each door.

"Come out, Sarah, come out Sukie, my little chickabiddies--there's to be

no boat trip for you after all. Miss Weidermann, I've good news, good

news! Mrs. Lacy, cheer up, dear lady. The leak has taken up, and you can

go on deck and see your husband working at the pumps like a number one

chop Trojan. Ha! Father Roget, give me your hand. You're a white man,

sir, and ought to be a bishop."

As he spoke to the now awakened old priest, the two De Boos girls, Mrs.

Lacy and Miss Weidermann, all came out of their cabins, and Robertson

shook hands with them, and lifting Sukie de Boos up between his two

rough hands as if she were a little girl, he kissed her, and then made a

grab at Sarah, who dodged behind Mrs. Lacy.

"Now, father, don't you attempt to come on deck. Mrs. Lacy, just you

keep him here. Sukie, my chick, you and Sarah get a couple of bottles of

brandy, make this bucket full of half-and-half, and bring it on deck to

the men."

As he noisily stamped out of the cabin again, the old priest turned to

the ladies, and raised his hand--

"A brave, brave man--a very good English sailor. And now let us thank

God for His mercies to us."

The four ladies, with Mina, knelt, and then the good old man prayed

fervently for a few minutes. Then Sukie de Boos and her sister flung

their arms around Mrs. Lacy, and kissed her, and even Miss Weidermann,

now thoroughly unstrung, began to cry hysterically. She had at first

detested Mrs. Lacy as being altogether too scandalously young and pretty

for a clergyman's wife. Now she was ready to take her to her bosom (that

is, to her metaphorical bosom, as she had no other), for she believed

that Mr. Lacy's prayer had saved them all, he being a Protestant

clergyman, and therefore better qualified to avert imminent death than a

priest of Rome.

Sukie and Sally de Boos mixed the grog, took it on deck, and served it

out to the men at the pumps.

The carpenter sounded the well, and as he drew up the iron rod, the

second mate gave a shout.

"Only seven inches, captain."

"Right, my boy. Take a good spell now, Mr. Allen. Mr. Bruce, we can give

her a bit more lower canvas now. She'll stand it. Mr. Lacy, and you

Captain Burr, come aft and get into some dry togs. The glass is rising

steadily, and in a few hours we'll feel a bit more comfy."

He prophesied truly, for the violence of the gale decreased rapidly,

and when at the end of an hour the pumps sucked, the crew gave a cheer,

and tired out as they were, eagerly sprang aloft to repair damages and

then spread more sail, Sarah and Susan de Boos hauling and pulling at

the running gear from the deck below. They were both girls of splendid

physique, and, in a way, sailors, and had Robertson allowed them to do

so, would have gone aloft and handled the canvas with the men.

By four o'clock in the afternoon the little barque, with her wave-swept,

bulwarkless decks, now drying under a bright sun, was running before a

warm, good-hearted breeze, and the pumps were only attended to twice in

every watch.

Mrs. Lacy, Miss Weidermann, the De Boos girls, and the French priest

were seated on the poop deck, on rugs and blankets spread out for them

by Otway and the steward. Lacy, with Captain Burr, was pacing to and fro

smoking his pipe, and laughing heartily at Sukie de Boos's attempts to

make his wife smoke a cigarette. Presently old Bruce came along with the

second mate and some men to set a new gaff-topsail, and the ladies rose

to go below, so as to be out of the way.

"Nae, nae, leddies, dinna go below," said the old mate cheerfully,

"ye'll no' hinder us. And the sight o' sae many sweet, bonny faces will

mak' us work a' the better. And how are ye now, Mrs. Lacy? Ah, the pink

roses are in your cheeks once mair." And then he stepped quickly up to

the young clergyman and took his hand.

"Mr. Lacy, ye must pardon me, but I'm an auld man, and must hae my way.

Ye're a gude, brave man;" then he added in a low voice, "and ye called

upon Him, and He heard us."

"Thank you, Mr. Bruce," Lacy answered nervously, as he saw his wife's

eyes droop, and a vivid blush dye her fair cheeks. Then he plucked the

American captain by the sleeve and went below, and Sukie de Boos laughed

loudly when in another minute they heard the pop of a bottle of soda

water. She ran to the skylight and bent down.

"You're a pair of exceedingly rude men. You might think of Father

Roget--even if you don't think of us poor women. Mr. Otway, come here,

you horrid, dirty-faced, ragged creature! Go below and get a glass of

port wine for Father Roget, a bottle of champagne for Mrs. Lacy and my

sister and myself, and a cup of tea for Mrs. Weidermann, and bring some

biscuits, too."

"Come and help me, then," said the supercargo, who was indeed

dirty-faced and ragged.

Sukie danced towards the companion way with him. Half-way down he put

his arms round her and kissed her vigorously. She returned his kisses

with interest, and laughingly smacked his cheek.

"Let me go, Charlie Otway, you horrid, bold fellow. Now, one, two,

three, or I'll call out and invoke the protection of the clergy, above

and below--those on board this ship I mean, not those who are in heaven

or elsewhere."

* * * * *

Ten days later the _Tucopia_ sailed into Apia Harbour and dropped

anchor inside Matautu Point just as the evening mists were closing their

fleecy mantle around the verdant slopes of Vailima Mountain.

The two half-caste girls, with their maid and Mr. and Mrs. Lacy, came to

bid Otway and the captain a brief farewell, before they went ashore in

the pilot boat to D'Acosta's hotel in Matafele.

"Now remember, Otway, and you, Captain Robertson, and you, Captain Burr,

you are all to dine with us at the hotel the day after to-morrow. And

perhaps you, too, Father Roget will reconsider your decision and come

too." It was Lacy who spoke.

The gentle-voiced old Frenchman shook his head and smiled--"Ah no, it

was impossible," he said. The bishop would not like him to so soon leave

the Mission. But the bishop and his brothers at the Mission would look

forward to have the good captain, and Mr. Burr, and Mr. Otway, and the

ladies to accept his hospitality.

Mrs. Lacy's soft little gloved hand was in Otway's.

"I thank you, Mr. Otway, very, very sincerely for your many kindnesses

to me. You have indeed been most generous to us both. It was cruel of us

to take your cabin and compel you to sleep in the trade-room. But I

shall never forget how kind you have been."

All that was good in Otway came into his vicious heart and voiced softly

through his lips.

"I am only too glad, Mrs. Lacy.... I am indeed. I didn't like giving up

my cabin to strangers at first, and was a bit of a beast when Mr. Harry

told me we were taking two extra passengers. But I am glad now."

He turned away, and went below with burning cheeks. Before the storm he

had tried his best, late on several nights, to make Lacy drunk, and to

keep him drunk; but Lacy could stand as much or more grog than he could

himself; and when he heard that passionate, sobbing appeal, "Oh, Will,

Will, how could you?" his better nature was stirred, and his fierce

sensual desire for her changed into a sentimental affection and respect.

He knew her secret, and now, instead of wishing to take advantage of it,

felt he was too much of a man to abuse his knowledge.

* * * * *

Supper was over, and as the skipper, Burr, and Otway paced the

quarter-deck before going ashore to play a game or two of billiards and

meet some friends, a boat came alongside, and a man stepped on deck and

inquired for the captain. As he followed Robertson down the companion,

Otway saw that he was a well-dressed, rather gentlemanly-looking young

man of about five and twenty.

"Who's that joker, I wonder?" he said to Burr; "not any one living in

Samoa, unless he's a new-comer. Hope he won't stay long--it's eight

o'clock now."

Ten minutes later the steward came to him.

"The captain wishes to see you, sir."

Otway entered the cabin. Robertson, with frowning face, motioned him to

a seat. The strange gentleman sat near the captain smoking a cigar, and

with some papers in his hands.

"Mr. Otway, I have sent for you. This gentleman has a warrant for the

arrest of Mr. Lacy, issued by the New Zealand Government and initialled

by the British Consul here."

Otway rose to the occasion. He nodded to the stranger and sat down

quietly.

"Yes, sir?" he asked inquiringly of Robertson.

"You will please tell my supercargo your business, mister," said the

captain gruffly to the stranger; "he can tell you all you wish to

know--that is, if he cares to do so. I don't see that your warrant holds

any force here in Samoa. You can't execute it. There's no government

here, no police, no anything, and the British Consul can't act on a

warrant issued from New Zealand. It is of no more use in Samoa than it

would be at Cape Horn."

"Now, sir, make haste," said Otway with a mingled and studied insolence

and politeness. He already began to detest the stranger.

"I am a detective of the police force of New Zealand, and I have come

from Auckland to arrest William Barton, alias the Rev. Wilfrid Lacy, on

a charge of stealing twenty thousand, five hundred pounds from the

National Bank of Christchurch, of which he was manager. I believe that

twenty thousand pounds of the money he has stolen is on board this

vessel at this moment, and I now demand access to his cabin."

"Do you? How are you going to enforce your demand, my cocksure friend?"

Otway rose, and placing his two hands on the table, looked insultingly

at the detective. "What rot you are talking, man!"

The detective drew back, alarmed and startled.

"The British Consul has endorsed my warrant to arrest this man," he

said, "and it will go hard with any one who attempts to interfere with

me in the performance of my duty."

Otway shot a quick, triumphant glance at the captain.

"The Consul is, and always was, a silly old ass. You have come on a

fool's errand; and are going on the wrong tack by making threats. That

idiotic warrant of yours is of no more use to you than a sheet of fly

paper--Samoa is outside British jurisdiction. The High Commissioner for

the Western Pacific would not have endorsed such a fool of a document,

and I'll report the matter to him.... Now, sit down and tell me what you

_do_ want, and I'll try and help you all I can. But don't try to bluff

us--it's only wasting your time. Steward, bring us something to drink."

As soon as the steward brought them "something to drink" Otway became

deeply sympathetic with the detective, and Robertson, who knew his

supercargo well, smiled inwardly at the manner he adopted.

"Now, just tell us, Mr.--O'Donovan, I think you said is your name--what

is all the trouble? I need hardly tell you that whilst both the captain

and myself felt annoyed at your dictatorial manner, we are both sensible

men, and will do all in our power to assist you. Our firm's reputation

has to be studied--has it not, captain? We don't want it to be

insinuated that we helped an embezzler to escape, do we?"

"Certainly not," replied Robertson, puffing slowly at his cigar,

watching Otway keenly through his half-closed eyelids, and wondering

what that astute young gentleman was driving at. "I guess that you, Mr.

Otway, will do all that is right and cor-rect."

"Thank you, sir," replied Otway humbly, and with great seriousness, "I

know my duty to my employers, and I know that this gentleman may be led

into very serious trouble through the dense stupidity of the British

Consul here."

He turned to Mr. O'Donovan--"Are you aware, Mr. O'Donikin--I beg your

pardon, O'Donovan--that the British Consul here is not, officially, the

British Consul. He is merely a commercial agent, like the United States

Consul. Neither are accredited by their Governments to act officially on

behalf of their respective countries, and even if they were, there is no

extradition treaty with the Samoan Islands, which is a country without a

recognised government. Of course, Mr. O'Donovan, you are acting in good

faith; but you have no more legal right nor the power to arrest a man in

Samoa, than you have to arrest one in Manchuria or Patagonia. Of course,

old Johns (the British Consul) doesn't know this, or he would not have

made such a fool of himself by endorsing a warrant from an irresponsible

judge of a New Zealand court. But as I told you, I shall aid you in

every possible way."

O'Donovan was no fool. He knew that all that Otway had said was

absolutely correct, but he braced himself up.

"I daresay what you say may be right, Mr. Supercargo. But I've come from

New Zealand to get this joker, and by blazes I mean to get him, and take

him back with me to New Zealand. And I mean to have those twenty

thousand sovereigns to take back as well."

"Well, then, why the devil don't you go and get your man? He's at Joe

D'Acosta's hotel with his wife."

"I don't want to be bothered with him just yet. I have no place to put

him into. The Californian mail boat from San Francisco is not due here

for another ten days. But I know that he hasn't taken his stolen money

ashore yet, and you had better hand it over to me at once. I can get

_him_ at any time."

Otway leant back in his chair and laughed.

"I don't doubt that, Mr. O'Donovan. If you have enough money to do it,

you can do as you say--get this man at any time. But you want to have

some guns behind you to enforce it; and then his capture won't affect

our custody of the money. If the Consul instigates you to make an attack

on the ship, you will do so at your peril, for we shall resist any

piratical attempt."

O'Donovan's face fell. "You said you would assist me?"

"So I will," replied Otway, lying genially, "But you must point out a

way. The High Commissioner for the Western Pacific, in Fiji, is the only

man who could give you power to arrest the man and convey him to New

Zealand, and the moment you show me the High or the Deputy High

Commissioner's order to hand over the money, and Lacy's other effects,

I'll do so."

The detective made his last stroke.

"I can take the law into my own hands and chance the consequences. The

Consul will supply me with a force--"

Robertson smiled grimly, and pointed to the rack of Snider rifles around

the mizen-mast at the head of the table.

"You and your force will have a bad time of it then, and be shot down

before you can put foot on my deck. I've never seen a shark eat a

policeman, but there seems a chance of it now."

O'Donovan laughed uneasily, then he changed his tactics.

"Now look here, gentlemen," he said confidentially, leaning across the

table, "I can see I'm in a bit of a hole, but I'm a business man, and

you are business men, and I think we understand one another, eh? As you

say, my warrant doesn't hold good here in Samoa. But the Consul will

back me up, and if I can take this chap back to New Zealand it means a

big thing for me. Now, what's your figure?"

"Two hundred each for the skipper and myself," answered Otway promptly.

"Done. You shall have it."

"When?"

"Give me till to-morrow afternoon. I've only a hundred and fifty pounds

with me, and I'll have to raise the rest."

"Very well, it's a deal. But mind, you'll have to take care to be here

before the parson. He's coming off at eleven o'clock."

"Trust me for that, gentlemen."

"I'm sorry for his wife," said Otway meditatively.

O'Donovan grinned. "Ah, I haven't told you the yarn--she's not his wife!

She bolted from her husband, who is a big swell in Auckland, a Mr.----."

"How did you get on their tracks?"

"Sydney police found out that two people answering their description had

sailed for the Islands in the _Tucopia_, and cabled over to us. We

thought they had lit out for America. I only got here the day before

yesterday in the _Ryno_, from Auckland."

Otway paid him some very florid compliments on his smartness, and then

after another drink or two, the detective went on shore, highly pleased.

As soon as he was gone, Otway turned to Robertson.

"You won't stand in my way, Robertson, will you?" he asked--"I want to

see the poor devils get away."

"You take all the responsibility, then."

"I will," and then he rapidly told the skipper his plan, and set to

work by at once asking the second mate to get ready the boat and then

come back to the cabin.

"All ready," said Allen, five minutes later.

"Then come with the steward and help me with this gear."

He unlocked the door of Lacy's state-room, lit the swinging candle, and

quickly passed out Mr. and Mrs. Lacy's remaining luggage to the second

mate and steward. Three small leather trunks, marked "Books with Care,"

were especially heavy, and he guessed their contents.

"Stow them safely in the boat, Allen. Don't make more noise than you can

help. I'll be with you in a minute."

Going into his own cabin, he took a large handbag, threw into it his

revolver and two boxes of cartridges, then carried it into the

trade-room, and added half a dozen tins of the brand of tobacco which he

knew Lacy liked, and then filled the remaining space with pint bottles

of champagne. Then he whipped up a sheet or two of letter paper and an

envelope from the cabin-table, thrust them into his coat pocket, and,

bag in hand, stepped quickly on deck. The old mate was in his cabin, and

had not heard anything.

"Give it to her, boys," he said to the crew, taking the steer-oar in his

hand, and heading the boat towards a small fore-and-aft schooner lying

half a mile away in the Matafele horn of the reef encircling Apia

Harbour.

The four native seamen bent to their oars in silence, and sped swiftly

through the darkness over the calm waters of the harbour. The schooner

showed no riding light on her forestay, but, on the after deck under the

awning, a lamp was burning, and three men--the captain, mate, and

boatswain--were playing cards on the skylight.

Otway jumped on deck, just as the men rose to meet him.

"Great Ascensial Jehosophat! Why, it's you, Mr. Otway?" cried the

captain, a little clean-shaven man, as he shook hands with the

supercargo. "Well, now, I was just wondering whether I'd go ashore and

try and drop across you. Say, tell me now, hev you any good tinned beef

and a case of Winchesters you can sell me?"

"Yes, both," replied Otway, shaking hands with the three in turn--they

were all old acquaintances, especially Le Brun, the mate. "But come

below with me, Revels; I've important business, and it has to be done

right away--this very night."

Revels led the way below into the schooner's cabin, and at once produced

a bottle of Bourbon and a couple of glasses.

"No time to drink, Revels.... All right, just a little, then. Now, tell

me, do you want to make--and make it easy--five hundred pounds?"

"Guess I do."

"Are you ready for sea?"

"I was thinking of sailing on a cruise among the Tokelau Islands in a

day or two."

"Then don't think of it. If you put to sea to-night for a longer voyage,

I can guarantee you that you will get five hundred pounds--if you will

take two passengers on board, and put to sea as soon as they come

alongside."

"Where do they want to go?"

"That I can't say. Manila or Hongkong, most likely. It'll pay you."

"Is the money safe?"

Otway struck his hand on the table. "Safe as rain, Revels. They have

plenty. I have it here alongside, and if you don't get five hundred

sovereigns paid you when you have dropped Samoa astern, you can come

back with your passengers, and I'll give you fifty pounds myself."

"Friends of yours?"

"Yes."

"That's enough fur me, Otway. Now, just tell me what to do."

"Tell your mate to get your boat ready to go ashore, while I write a

note."

He took a sheet of paper, and hurriedly wrote in pencil:

"DEAR LACY,--Don't hesitate to follow my instructions. There's a man

here from New Zealand. Tried to get access to your cabin; bluffed

him. You and your wife must follow bearer of this note to his boat,

which will bring you to a schooner. The captain's name is Revels. He

expects you, and you can trust him. Have pledged him my word that

you will give him £500 to land you at Manila or thereabouts; also

that you will hand it to him as soon as the schooner is clear of the

land. _All_ your luggage is on board the schooner, awaiting you.

Allen helped me. You might send him a present by Revels. Goodbye,

and all good luck. One last word--_be quick, be quick_!"

"Boat is ready," said Revels.

"Right," and Otway closed the letter and handed it to the mate. "Here

you are, Le Brun. Now, listen. Pull in to the mouth of the creek at the

French Mission, just beside the bridge. Leave your boat there and then

take this letter to D'Acosta's Hotel and ask to see Mr. Lacy. If he and

his wife have gone out for a walk, you must follow them and give him the

letter; but I feel pretty sure you'll find them on the verandah. Bring

them off on board as quickly and as quietly as possible. No one will

take any notice of the boat in the creek. Oh! and tell Mr. Lacy to be

dead sure not to bring anything in the way of even a small bag with

him--Joe D'Acosta might wonder. I'll settle the hotel bill later on. Are

you clear?"

"Clear as mud," replied Le Brun, a big, black-whiskered Guernsey man.

"Then goodbye."

The schooner's boat, manned by two hands only, pushed off, and then

Revels turned to Otway.

"Shall I heave short so as to be ready?"

"Heave short, be d----d!" replied Otway testily. "No, just lie nice and

quiet, and as soon as you have your passengers on board slip your cable.

I'll see that your anchor is fished up for you. And even if you lost

your anchor and a few fathoms of chain it doesn't matter against five

hundred sovereigns. The people on shore would be sure to hear the sound

of the windlass pawls, and there's a man here from Auckland--a

detective--who might make a bold stroke, get a dozen native bullies and

collar you. So slip, my boy, slip. There's a fine healthy breeze which

will take you clear of the reef in ten minutes."

The two men shook hands, and Otway stepped into his boat, which he

steered in towards the principal jetty.

Jumping out he walked along the roadway which led from Matafele to Apia.

As he passed the British Consul's house he saw Mr. O'Donovan standing on

the verandah talking to the Consul. He waved his hand to them, and

cheerfully invited the detective to come along to "Johnnie Hall's" and

play a game of billiards.

Mr. O'Donovan, little thinking that Otway had a purpose in view, took

the bait. The Consul knew Otway, and, in a measure, dreaded him, for the

supercargo's knowledge of certain transactions in connection with the

sale of arms to natives, in which he (the Consul) had taken a leading

and lucrative part. So when he saw the supercargo of the _Tucopia_

beckoning to O'Donovan he smiled genially at him, and hurriedly told the

detective to go.

"He's a most astute and clever young scoundrel, Mr. O'Donovan, and in a

way we are at his mercy. But you shall have the four hundred pounds in

the morning--not later than noon. This man Barton must be brought to

justice at any cost."

"Just so, sir; and you will get a hundred out of the business, any way,"

replied O'Donovan, who had gauged the Consul's morality pretty fairly.

As Otway and the detective walked towards the hotel known as "Johnny

Hall's" the former said lazily--

"Look here, Mr. O'Donovan. Are the skipper and myself to get those four

hundred sovs to-morrow or not? To tell you the exact truth, I have a

fair amount of doubt about your promise. Where are you going to get the

money?"

"That's all right, Mr. Otway. You're a business man. And you and the

skipper will have your two hundred each before one o'clock to-morrow.

The Consul is doing the necessary."

"Right, my boy," said Otway effusively. "Now we'll play a game or two at

Johnny's and have some fun with the girls."

By eleven o'clock Mr. O'Donovan was comfortably half drunk, and Otway

led him out on to the verandah to look at the harbour, shimmering under

the starlight. They sat down on two cane lounges, and the supercargo's

keen eye saw that Revel's schooner had gone. He breathed freely, and

then brought Mr. O'Donovan a large whisky and soda.

* * * * *

In the morning Mr. O'Donovan and Mr. William Johns, the British Consul,

were in a state of frenzy on discovering that Mr. and Mrs. Lacy had

escaped during the night in the schooner _Solafanua_. The Consul knew

that Otway was at the bottom of the matter, but dared not say so, but

O'Donovan, who had more pluck and nothing to lose, lost his temper and

came on board the _Tucopia_ just as she was being hauled up on the beach

to get at the leak.

"You're a dirty sweep," he said to Otway.

The supercargo hit him between the eyes, and sent him down. Allen picked

him up, dumped him into the boat alongside, and sent him ashore.

When the _Tucopia_ lay high and dry on Apia beach Otway and old Bruce

walked round under her counter and looked for the leak. As the skipper

had surmised, a butt-end had started, but the gaping orifice was now

choked and filled with a large piece of seaweed.

"The prayer of one of God's ain ministers has saved us," said the Scotch

mate, pointing upward.

"No doubt," replied Otway, who knew that the good old man had heard

nothing of what had happened.

_The Man in the Buffalo Hide_

Twelve years ago in a North Queensland town I was told the story of "The

Man in the Buffalo Hide" by Ned D----. He (D----) was then a prosperous

citizen, having made a small fortune by "striking it rich" on the

Gilbert and Etheridge Rivers goldfields. Returning from the arid wastes

of the Queensland back country to Sydney, he tired of leading an

inactive life, and hearing that gold had been discovered on one of the

Solomon Islands, he took passage thither in the Sydney whaling barque

_Costa Rica_ packet, and though he returned to Australia without

discovering gold in the islands, he had kept one of the most interesting

logs of a whaling cruise it has ever been my fortune to read. The master

of the whaleship was Captain J.Y. Carpenter, a man who is well known

and highly respected, not only in Sydney (where he now resides), but

throughout the East Indies and China, where he had lived for over thirty

years. And it was from Captain Carpenter who was one of the actors in

this twice-told tragedy, that D----heard this story of Chinese

vengeance. He (D----) related it to me in '88, and I wish I could write

the tale as well and vividly as he told it. However, I wrote it out for

him then and there. Much to our disgust the editor of the little journal

to whom we sent the MS., considered it a fairy tale, and cut it down to

some two or three hundred words. I mention these apparently unnecessary

details merely that the reader may not think that the tale is fiction,

for two years or so after, Captain Carpenter corroborated my friend's

story.

* * * * *

It was after the Taeping rebellion had been stamped out in blood and

fire by Gordon and his "Ever Victorious Army," and the Viceroy (Li Hung

Chang) had taken up his quarters in Canton, and was secretly torturing

and beheading those prisoners whom he had sworn to the English

Government to spare.

Carpenter was in command of a Chinese Government despatch vessel--a

side-wheeler--which was immediately under the Viceroy's orders. She was

but lightly armed, but was very fast, as fast went in those days. His

ship had been lying in the filthy river for about a week, when, one

afternoon, a mandarin came off with a written order for him to get ready

to proceed to sea at daylight on the following morning. Previous

experience of his estimable and astute Chinese employers warned him not

to ask the fat-faced, almond-eyed mandarin any questions as to the

steamer's destination, or the duration of the voyage. He simply said

that he would be ready at the appointed time.

At daylight another mandarin, named Kwang--one of much higher rank than

his visitor of the previous day--came on board. He was attended by

thirty of the most ruffianly-looking scoundrels--even for Chinamen--that

the captain had ever seen. They were all well armed, and came off in a

large, well-appointed boat, which, the mandarin intimated with a polite

smile, was to be towed, if she was too heavy to be hoisted aboard. A

couple of hands were put in her, and she was veered astern. Then the

anchor was lifted, and the steamer started on her eighty miles trip down

the river to the sea, the mandarin informing the captain that he would

name the ship's destination as soon as they were clear of the land.

Most of Carpenter's officers were Europeans--Englishmen or

Americans--and one or two of them who spoke Chinese, attempted to enter

into conversation with the thirty braves, and endeavour to learn the

object of the steamer's mission. Their inquiries were met either with a

mocking jest or downright insult, and presently the mandarin, who

hitherto had preserved a smiling and affable demeanour as he sat on the

quarter-deck, turned to the captain with a sullen and ferocious aspect,

and bade him remind his officers that they had no business to question

the servants of the "high and excellent Viceroy."

But though neither Carpenter nor any of his officers could learn aught

about this sudden mission, one of their servants, a Chinese who was

deeply attached to his master, whispered tremblingly to him that the

mandarin and the thirty braves were in quest of one of the Viceroy's

most hated enemies--a noted leader of the Taepings who had escaped the

bloodied hands of Li Hung Chang, and whose retreat had been betrayed to

the cruel, merciless Li the previous day.

Once clear of the land, the mandarin, with a polite smile and many

compliments to Carpenter on the skilful and expeditious manner in which

he had navigated the steamer down the river, requested him to proceed to

a certain point on the western side of the island of Formosa.

"When you are within twenty miles of the land, captain," he said

suavely, "you will make the steamer stop, and my men and I will leave

you in the boat. You must await our return, which may be on the

following day, or the day after, or perhaps longer still. But whether I

am absent one, or two, or six days, you must keep your ship in the

position I indicate as nearly as possible. You must avoid observation

from the shore, you must be watchful, diligent, and patient, and, when

you see my boat returning, you must make your engines work quickly, and

come towards us with all speed. High commendation and a great reward

from the serene nobleness of our great Viceroy--who has already

condescended to notice your honourable ability and great integrity in

your profession--awaits you." Then with another smile and bow he went to

his cabin.

As soon as the steamer reached the place indicated by the mandarin the

engines were stopped. The boat, which was towing astern, was hauled

alongside, and the thirty truculent "braves," with a Chinese pilot and

the ever-smiling mandarin, got into her and pushed off for the shore.

That they were all picked men, who could handle an oar as well as a

rifle, was very evident from the manner in which they sent the big boat

along towards the blue outline of the distant shore.

* * * * *

For two days Carpenter and his officers waited and watched, the steamer

lying and rolling about upon a long swell, and under a hot and brazen

sun. Then, about seven o'clock in the morning, as the sea haze lifted, a

look-out on the foreyard hailed the deck and said the boat was in sight.

The steamer's head was at once put towards her under a full head of

steam, and in another hour the mandarin and his braves were alongside.

The mandarin clambered up on deck, his always-smiling face (which

Carpenter and his officers had come to detest) now darkly exultant.

"You have done well, sir," he said to the captain; "the Viceroy himself,

when my own miserable worthlessness abases itself before him, shall know

how truly and cleverly you and your officers (who shall be honoured for

countless ages in the future) have obeyed the behests which I have had

the never-to-be-extinguished honour to convey from him to you. There is

a prisoner in the boat--a prisoner who is to be tried before those high

and merciful judges whose Heaven-sent authority your valorous commander

of the Ever Victorious Army has upheld."

Carpenter, being a sailor man before all else, swallowed the mandarin's

compliments for all they were worth, and I can imagine him giving a

grumpy nod to the smiling minion of the Viceroy as he ordered "the

prisoner" to be brought on deck, and the boat to be veered astern for

towing.

The official interposed oilily. There was no need, he said, to tow the

boat to Canton if she could not be hoisted on board, and was likely to

impede the steamer's progress. Some of his braves could remain in her,

and the insignia of the Viceroy which they wore would ensure both their

and the boat's safety--no pirates would touch them.

The captain said that to tow such a heavy boat for such a long distance

would certainly delay the steamer's arrival in Canton by at least six or

eight hours. The mandarin smiled sweetly, and said that as speed was

everything the most honourable navigator, whom he now had the privilege

to address, and who was so soon to be distinguished by his mightiness

the Viceroy, could at once let the boat which had conveyed his worthless

self into the sunshine of his (the captain's) presence, go adrift.

At a sign from Kwang, six of his cutthroats clambered down the side into

the boat, which was at once cast oft; the steamer was sent along under a

full head of steam, and the captain was about to ascend the bridge when

the mandarin stayed him, and requested that a meal should be at once

prepared in the cabin for the prisoner, who, he said, was somewhat

exhausted, for his capture was only effected after he had killed three

and wounded half a dozen of "the braves." So courageous a man, he added

softly, whatever his offence might be, must not be allowed to suffer the

pangs of hunger and thirst.

Carpenter gave the necessary order to the steward with a sensation of

pleasure, feeling that he had done the suave and gentle-voiced Kwang an

injustice in imagining him to be like most Chinese officials--utterly

indifferent and callous to human suffering. Then he stepped along the

deck towards the bridge just as two of the braves lifted the prisoner to

his feet, which a third had freed from a thong of hide, bound so tightly

around them that it had literally cut into the flesh. His hands were

tied in the same manner, and round his neck was an iron collar, with a

chain about six feet in length which was secured at the end to another

band around the waist of one of the "braves."

As the prisoner stood erect, Carpenter saw that he was a man of

herculean proportions and over six feet three or four inches in height.

His arms and naked chest were cut, bleeding and bruised, and a bamboo

gag was in his mouth; but what at once attracted the captain's attention

and sympathy was the man's face.

So calm, steadfast, and serene were his clear, undaunted eyes; so proud,

lofty, and contemptuous and yet so dignified his bearing, as he glanced

at his guards when they bade him walk, that Carpenter, drawing back a

little, raised his hand in salute.

In an instant the deep, dark eyes lit up, and the tortured, distorted

mouth would have smiled had it not been for the cruel gag. But twice he

bent his head, and his eyes did that which was denied to his lips.

Captain Carpenter was deeply moved. The man's heroic fortitude, his

noble bearing under such physical suffering, the tender, woman-like

resignation in the eyes which could yet smile into his, affected him so

strongly that he could not help asking one of the "braves" the

prisoner's name.

An insolent, threatening gesture was the only answer. But the prisoner

had heard, and bent his head in acknowledgment. When he raised it again

and saw that Carpenter had now taken off his cap, tears trickled down

his cheeks. In another moment he was hurried along the deck into the

cabin, and half a dozen "braves" stood guard at the door to prevent

intrusion, whilst the gag was removed, and the victim of the Viceroy's

vengeance was urged to eat. Whether he did so or not was never known,

for half an hour afterwards he was removed to one of the state-rooms,

where he was closely guarded by Kwang's cutthroats. When he was next

seen by Carpenter and the officers of the steamer the gag was again in

his mouth, but the calm, resolute eyes met theirs as it trying to tell

them that the heroic soul within the tortured body knew no fear, and

felt and appreciated their sympathy.

On the afternoon of the third day after leaving Formosa the steamer

ploughed her way up the muddy waters of the river, and came to an anchor

off the city at a place which was within half a mile of the Viceroy's

residence. The mandarin requested the captain to fire three guns, and

hoist the Chinese flag at both the fore and main peaks.

This signal was, so Kwang condescended to say, to inform His

Illustriousness the Ever-Merciful Viceroy that he, Kwang, his crawling

dependent, guided by Carpenter's high intelligence, and supreme and

honoured skill as a navigator, had achieved the object which His

Illustriousness desired.

The captain listened to all this "flam," bowed his acknowledgments, and

then suddenly asked the mandarin the prisoner's name.

Again the fat, complacent face darkened, and almost scowled. "No," he

replied sullenly, he himself "was not permitted" to know the prisoner's

name. His crime? He did not know. When was he to be tried? To-morrow.

Then he rose and abruptly requested the captain to ask no more

questions. But, he added, with a smile, he could promise him that he

should at least see the captive again.

In a few minutes a boat came off, and the prisoner, closely guarded, and

with his face covered with a piece of cloth, was hurried ashore.

* * * * *

Four days had passed--days of heat so intense that even the Chinese crew

of the steamer lay about the decks under the awning, stripped to their

waists, and fanning themselves languidly. During this time the captain

and his officers, by careful inquiries, ascertained that the unfortunate

prisoner was a brother of one of the Wangs, or seven "Heavenly Kings,"

who had led the Taeping forces, and that for a long time past the

Viceroy had made most strenuous efforts to effect his capture, being

particularly exasperated with him, not only for his courage in the

field, and the influence he had wielded over the unfortunate Taepings,

who were wiped out by Gordon and the Ever-Victorious Army, but also

because he refused to accept Li Hung Chang's sworn word to spare his

life if he surrendered; for well he knew that a death by torture awaited

him. Gordon himself, it was said, revolver in hand, and with tears of

rage streaming down his face, had sought to find and shoot the Viceroy

for the cruel murder of other leaders who had surrendered to him under

the solemn promise of their lives being spared.

Late in the afternoon, a messenger came on board with a note to the

captain. It was from the mandarin Kwang, and contained but a line.

"Follow the bearer, who will guide you to the prisoner."

An hour later Carpenter was conducted through a narrow door which was

set in a very high wall of great thickness. He found himself in a garden

of the greatest beauty, and magnificent proportions. Temples and other

buildings of the most elaborate and artistic design and construction

showed here and there amid a profusion of gloriously-foliaged trees and

flowering shrubs. No sound broke the silence except the twittering of

birds; and not a single person was visible.

The guide, who had not yet uttered a single word, now turned and

motioned Carpenter to follow him along a winding path, paved with white

marble slabs, and bordered with gaily-hued flowers. Suddenly they

emerged upon a lovely sward of the brightest green, in the centre of

which a fountain played, sending its fine feathery spray high in air.

On one side of the fountain were a number of "braves" who stood in a

close circle, and, as Carpenter approached, two of them silently stepped

out of the cordon, brought their rifles to the salute, and the guide

whispered to him to enter.

Within the circle was Kwang, who was seated in his chair of office. He

rose and greeted the captain politely.

"I promised you that you should again see the criminal in whom you and

your officers took such a deep and benevolent interest. I now fulfil

that promise--and leave you." And, with a malevolent smile, he bowed and

disappeared.

The guide touched Carpenter's arm.

"Look," he said in a whisper.

* * * * *

Within a few inches of a wavering line of spray from the fountain,

purposely diverted so as to fall upon the grass, lay what appeared at

first sight to be a round bundle tied up in a buffalo hide. A black

swarm of flies buzzed and buzzed over and around it.

"Draw near and look," said the harsh voice of the officer who commanded

the grim, silent guard, as he stepped up to the strange-looking bundle,

and waved his fan quickly to and fro over a protuberance in the centre.

A black cloud of flies arose, and revealed a sight that will haunt

Carpenter to his dying day--the purpled, distorted face of a living man.

The eyelids had been cut off, and only two dreadful, bloodied, glaring

things of horror appealed mutely to God. The victim's knees had been

drawn up to his chin, and only his head was visible; for the fresh

buffalo hide in which his body had been sewn, fitted tightly around his

neck.

Shuddering with horror, and yet fascinated with the dreadful spectacle,

Carpenter asked the officer how long the prisoner had been tortured.

"Four days," was the reply.

For the buffalo, the hide of which was to be the prisoner's death-wrap,

was in readiness the moment the steamer arrived, and ten minutes after

the signal was hoisted, the creature was killed, the hide stripped off,

and the prisoner sewn up in it, only his head being left free.

Then he was carried to a heated room, so that the hide should contract

quickly. From there he was taken to the fountain, where his eyelids were

cut off, and then he was laid upon the ground, his mouth just within a

few inches of a spray from the fountain.

And the Viceroy came, saw, approved, and smiled, and assigned to Kwang

the honoured post of watching his hated enemy die under slow and

agonising torture. To attract the flies, honeyed water was applied to

the prisoner's shaven head and face. And the guards, now and then as his

thirst increased, offered him brine to drink.

"He is still alive," the brutal-faced Tartar officer said genially, as

he touched one of the dreadful eyeballs, and the poor, tortured

creature's lips moved slightly.

Sick at heart and almost overcome with horror, Captain Carpenter, with

quickened footsteps, passed through the cordon of guards, and followed

his guide from the dreadful spot.

In a few minutes he was without the wall, and a sigh of relief broke

from him as he set out towards the river.

A CRUISE IN THE SOUTH SEAS

(HINTS TO INTENDING TRAVELLERS)

_A Cruise in the South Seas_

(HINTS TO INTENDING TRAVELLERS)

The traveller who makes a hurried trip in an excursion steamer through

the Cook, Society, Samoan, or Tongan Islands has but little opportunity

of seeing anything of the social life of the natives, or getting either

fishing or shooting; for it is but rarely that the vessel remains for

more than forty-eight hours at any of the ports visited. Personally, if

I wanted to have an enjoyable cruise among the various island groups in

the South Pacific I should avoid the "excursion" steamer as I would the

plague. In the first place, one sees next to nothing for his passage

money if he fatuously takes a ticket in either Sydney or New Zealand for

"a round trip to Tonga, Samoa, Tahiti, and back." Certainly, he will

enjoy the sea voyage, for in the Australasian winter months the weather

in the South Seas is never very hot, and cloudless skies and a smooth

sea may almost be relied upon from April until the end of July. At such

places as Nukualofa, the little capital of the Tonga Islands, an

excursion steamer will remain for perhaps forty hours; at Apia, in

Samoa, forty-eight hours; and at Papeite, the capital of the French

island of Tahiti, forty-eight hours. At the two latter places the

traveller will be charmed by the lovely scenery, and disgusted by the

squalid appearance of the natives; for within the last ten years great

changes have occurred, and the native communities inhabiting the island

ports, such as Apia and Papeite, have degenerated into the veriest

loafers, spongers, and thieves. The appearance of a strange European in

any of the environs of Apia is the signal for an onslaught of beggars of

all ages and both sexes, who will pester his life out for tobacco; if he

says he does not smoke, they say a sixpence will do as well. If he

refuses he is pretty sure to be insulted by some half-naked ruffian, and

will be glad to get back to the ship or to the refuge of an hotel. And

yet, away from the contaminating influences of the town the white

stranger will meet with politeness and respect wherever he

goes--particularly if he is an Englishman--and will at once note the

pleasing difference in the manners of the natives. Yet it must now be

remembered that Samoa--with the exception of the beautiful island of

Tutuila--is German territory, and German officials are none too effusive

to Englishmen or Americans--in Samoa.

But if any one wants to spend an enjoyable time in the South Seas let

him avoid the "excursion ship" and go there in a trading steamer. There

are several of these now sailing out of Australasian ports, and there is

a choice of groups to visit. If a four months' voyage is not too long, a

passage may be obtained in a small, but fairly fast and comfortable

boat of 600 tons sailing from Sydney, which visits over forty islands in

her cruise from Niué or Savage Island, ten days' steam from Sydney, to

Jaluit in the Marshall Islands. But this particular cruise I would not

recommend to any one in search of a variety of beautiful scenery, for

nearly all of the islands visited are of the one type--low-lying sandy

atolls, densely verdured with coco-palms, and very monotonous from their

sameness of appearance. Their inhabitants, however, are widely different

in manners, customs, and general mode of life. To the ethnologist such a

cruise among the Ellice, Gilbert, and Marshall Islands would no doubt be

full of interest; but to the traveller in search of either beautiful

scenery or sport (except fishing) they would be disappointing.

Let us suppose that the intending traveller desires to make a stay of

some two or three months in the Samoan Group. He can reach there easily

enough from Sydney or Auckland by steamer once a month, either by one of

the Union Steamship Company's regular traders or by one of the San

Francisco mail boats. From Sydney the voyage occupies eight days, from

Auckland five. The outfit required for a three or four months' stay is

not a large one--light clothing can be bought almost as cheaply in Samoa

as in Sydney, a couple of guns with plenty of ammunition (for cartridges

are shockingly dear in the Islands), a large and varied assortment of

deep-sea tackle, a rod for fresh-water or reef fishing, and a good

waterproof and rugs for camping out, as the early mornings are sometimes

very chilly. And there is one other thing that is worth while taking,

even though it may cost from £30 to £50 or so in Sydney--a good

secondhand boat, with two suits of sails. Thus provided the sportsman

can sail all along the coasts of Savaii and Upolu, and be practically

independent of the local storekeepers. To hire a boat is very expensive,

and to travel in native craft is horribly uncomfortable, and risky as

well. And such a boat can always be sold again for at least its cost.

A stay of two or three days, or at most a week, in Apia is quite long

enough, and the stranger will get all the information he requires about

the outlying districts from the Consuls or any of the old white

residents. Such provisions as are needed--tea, sugar, flour, biscuits,

tinned or other meats, &c.--can be had at fairly cheap rates; but a

large stock should be taken, for, besides the keep of the native crew

of, say, four men, it must always be borne in mind that a white visitor

is expected to return the hospitality he receives from the native chiefs

by making a present, and the Samoans are particularly susceptible to the

charms of tinned meats, sardines, salmon, and _falaoa_ (bread or

biscuit). That such a return should be made is only just and natural,

though I am sorry to say that very often it is not. Then, again, it is

very easy to stow away in the trade box in the boat eight or ten pieces

of good print, cut off in pieces of six fathoms (which is enough to make

a woman's gown), about 30 lbs. of twist negrohead tobacco (twenty to

thirty sticks to the pound), half a gross of lucifer matches, and such

things as cotton, scissors, combs, &c., and powder, caps, and a bag of

No. 3 shot for pigeon shooting. Now, this seems a lot of articles for a

man to take on a short Samoan _malaga_ (journey), but it is not, and for

the £50 which it may cost for such an outfit (exclusive of the boat and

crew's wages) the traveller will see more of the people and their mode

of life, be more hospitably received, and spend a pleasanter time than

if he were cruising about in a 1,000-ton yacht. The wages or boatmen and

native sailors in Samoa are usually $15.00 per month, but many will

gladly go on a _malaga_ (the general acceptance of the word is a

pleasure trip) for much less, for there is but little work, and much

eating and drinking. But, as sailors, the Samoans are a wretched lot,

and the local living Savage Islanders, as the natives of Niué Island are

called, are far better, especially if there is any wind or a beat to

windward in a heavy sea. These Savage Island "boys" can always be

obtained in Apia. They are good seamen and very willing to work; but

they have to be fed entirely by their white employer, for the Samoans

seldom make a present of food to a crew of Niué boys, for whom they

profess a contempt and designate _au puáa_--_i.e._, pigs.

The Samoan Group consists of five islands, trending from west by north

to east by south. The two largest are Upolu and Savaii. Tutuila, and the

Manua Group of three islands are too far to the windward to attempt in a

small boat against the south-east trades. And it would take quite three

months to visit the principal villages on the two large islands, staying

a few days at each place.

The best plan is to make to windward along the coast of Upolu after

leaving Apia. A large boat cannot be taken all the way inside the reef,

owing to the many coral patches which, at low tide, render this course

impracticable. The first place of any importance is Saluafata, fifteen

miles from Apia (I must mention that Apia is in the centre of Upolu, and

on the north side), then Falifa|, an exquisitely pretty place, and

then Fa|goloa Bay and village, eight miles further on. This is the

deepest indentation in Samoa, except the famous Pa|go Pa|go Harbour

on Tutuila, and the scenery is very beautiful. After leaving Fa|goloa,

the open sea has to be taken, for there is now no barrier reef for ten

miles, where it begins at Samusu village, to the towns of Aleipata and

Lepa|, two of the best in the group, and inhabited by cleanly and

hospitable people. This is the weather point of Upolu, and after leaving

Lepa| the boat has a clear run of over sixty miles before the glorious

trades to the lee end of the island--that is, unless a stay is made at

the populous towns of Falealilli, Sa|fata, Lafa|ga, and Falelatai,

on the southern coast. The scenery along this part of the island is

enchanting, but sudden squalls at night-time are sometimes frequent,

from December to March, and 'tis always advisable to run into a port at

sunset.

Two miles off the lee end of Upolu is the low-lying island of Manono,

which is, however, enclosed in the Upolu barrier reef. It is only about

three miles in circumference, exceedingly fertile, and is the most

important place in the group, owing to the political influence wielded

by the chiefly families who have always made it their home. A mile from

Manono, and in the centre of the deep strait separating Upolu from

Savaii, is a curiously picturesque spot, an island named Apolima.[17] It

is an extinct crater, but has a narrow passage on the north side, and is

inhabited by about fifty people, who are delighted to see any _papalagi_

(foreigner) who is venturesome enough to make a landing there.

Savaii is distant about ten miles from Upolu. Its coast is for the most

part _itu papa_--i.e., iron bound--but there are five populous towns

there--Palaulae, Salealua, Asaua, Matautu, and Safune. After making the

round of Savaii, the boat has to make back to Manono, and then can

proceed inside the reef all the way to Apia, making stoppages at the

many minor villages which stud the shore at intervals of every few

miles.

These _malaga_ by boat along the coast or from one island to another are

much in favour with many of the white residents of Samoa, who find their

life in Apia very monotonous. European ladies frequently accompany their

husbands, and sometimes quite a large party is made up. More than

five-and-twenty years ago, when the writer was gaining his first

experiences of Samoan life, it was his good fortune to be one of such a

party, and a right merry time he had of it among the natives; for in

those days, although there was party warfare occasionally, the group

was free from the savage hatreds and dissensions--largely fomented by

the interference and intrigues of unscrupulous traders and incapable

officials--which for the past ten or twelve years have made it

notorious.

In travelling in Samoa one need not always rely upon native hospitality.

Though most of the white traders at the outlying villages nowadays make

nothing beyond a scanty living, they are as a rule very hospitable and

pleased to see and entertain white visitors as well as their poor means

will allow, and in nine cases out of ten would feel hurt if they were

ignored and the native teacher's house visited first; for between the

average trader and the native teacher there is always a natural and yet

reasonable jealousy. And here let me say a word in praise of the Samoan

teacher--in Samoa. Away from his native land, in charge of a mission

station in another part of Polynesia or Melanesia, he is too often

pompous and overbearing alike to his flock and to the white trader. Here

he is far from the control and supervision of the white missionaries,

who only visit him twice in the year, and consequently he thinks himself

a man of vast importance. But in Samoa his superiors are prompt to curb

any inclination he may evince to ride the high horse over his flock or

interfere with any matter not strictly connected with his charge. So, in

Samoa, the native teacher is generally a good fellow, the soul of

hospitality, and anxious to entertain any chance white visitor; and

although the Samoans are not bigoted ranters like the Tongans or

Fijians, and the teachers have not anything like the undue and improper

influence over the people possessed by the native ministers in Tonga or

Fiji, to needlessly offend one would be resented by the villagers and

make the visitor's stay anything but pleasant. As for the white

missionaries in Samoa, all I need say of them is that they are

gentlemen, and that the words "Mission House" are synonymous in most

cases with warm welcome to the traveller.

Travelling inland in Savaii or crossing Upolu from north to south, or

_vice-versâ,_ is very delightful, though one misses much of the lovely

scenery that unfolds itself in a panorama-like manner when sailing along

the coast. One journey that can easily be accomplished in a day is that

from Apia to Safata. Carriers are easily obtainable, and some splendid

pigeon shooting can be had an hour or two after leaving Apia till within

a few miles of Safata. Pigeons are about the only game to be had in

Samoa, though the _manutagi_, or ring-dove, is very plentiful, but one

hardly likes to shoot such dear little creatures. Occasionally one may

get a wild duck or two and some fearful-looking wild fowls--the progeny

of the domestic fowl. Wild pigs are not now plentiful in Upolu though

they are in Savaii, but they are exceedingly difficult to shoot and the

country they frequent is fearfully rough. In some of the streams there

are some very good fish, running up to 2 lbs. or 3 lbs. They bite

eagerly at the _ula_ or freshwater prawn, and are excellent eating; and

yet, strange to say, very few of the white residents in the group even

know of their existence. This applies also to deep-sea fishing; for

although the deep water outside the reefs and the passages leading into

the harbours teem with splendid fish, the residents of Apia are content

to buy the wretched things brought to them by women who capture them in

nets in the shallow water inside the reef. Once, during my stay on

Manono, a young Manhiki half-caste and myself went out in our boat about

a mile from the land, and in thirty fathoms of water caught in an hour

three large-scaled fish of the groper species. These fish, though once

familiar enough to the people of the island, are now never fished for,

and our appearance with our prizes caused quite an excitement in the

village, everyone thronging around us to look. And yet there are two or

three varieties of groper--many of them weighing 50 lbs. or 60

lbs.--which can be caught anywhere on the Samoan coast; but the Samoan

of the present day has sadly degenerated, and, except bonito catching,

deep-sea fishing is one of the lost arts. But at almost any place in the

group, except Apia, great quantities of fish are caught inside the reefs

by nets, and one may always be sure of getting a splendid mullet of some

sort for either breakfast or supper.

Let us suppose that a party of Europeans have arrived at a village, and

are the guests of the chief and people generally. Food is at once

brought to them, even before any visits of ceremony are paid, for the

news of the coming of a party of travellers has doubtless been brought

to the village the previous day by a messenger from the last

stopping-place. The repast provided may be simple, but will be ample,

baked pork most likely being the _pièce de résistance,_ with roast

fowl, baked pigeons, breadfruit (if in season), and yams or taro, with a

plentiful supply of young drinking-coconuts. (Should the host be the

local teacher, some deplorable tea and a loaf of terrible bread are sure

to be produced.) This preliminary meal finished, the formalities begin

by a visit from the chief and his _tulafale,_ or "talking-man,"

accompanied by the leading citizens. The talking-man then makes a

speech, welcoming the guests, and is by no means sparing of "buttery"

phrases which indicate the intense delight, &c., of the inhabitants of

the village at having the honoured privilege of entertaining such noble

and distinguished visitors, &c. A suitable reply is made by the guests

(through an interpreter, if no one among them can speak Samoan), and

then follows a ceremonious brewing and drinking of kava. This is a most

important function in Samoa, and to the stranger unaccustomed to the

manner of making the beverage, the ordeal of drinking it is an

exceedingly trying one. It is prepared as follows: The dried kava root

is cut up in thin slices and handed to a number of young women, who

masticate it and then deposit it in a large wooden _tanoa_, or bowl.

Water is then added in sufficient quantity till the _tanoa_ is

half-filled with a thin yellowish-green liquid, which is carefully

strained by a thick "swab" of the beaten bark of the _fau_-tree. This

straining operation is performed only by a very experienced lady, and is

watched in respectful silence. Then the drink is handed round in a

polished bowl of coconut-shell. But for a full description of all the

details of a kava-drinking, let me commend my readers to the best and

most charming book ever written on South Sea life, "South Sea Bubbles,"

by the late Earl of Pembroke and Dr. Kingsley. Nowadays, however, many

Samoan households, out of deference to European tastes, have the kava

root grated instead of being chewed.

The kava-drinking over, all stiffness and formality disappears for the

time, and the visitors are surrounded by the villagers, eager to learn

the latest news from Apia, and from the world abroad. The discussion of

political matters always has a strong attraction for Samoans, who are

anxious to learn the state of affairs in Europe, and their knowledge and

shrewdness is surprising. Should there be any white ladies present, the

brown ones make much of them. The Samoans are a fine, handsome race, and

the faces and figures of many of the young women are very attractive;

but the practice of cutting off their long, flowing black hair, and

allowing it to grow in a short, stiff "frizz" is all too common, and

detracts very much from an otherwise handsome and graceful appearance,

especially when the hair is coated with lime in order to change its

colour to red. Many of the men, particularly those of chiefly rank, are

of magnificent stature and proportions, and their walk and carriage are

in consonance.

An announcement that the visitors intend to go pigeon shooting is warmly

applauded, and each white man is at once provided with a guide, for,

unless he has had experience of the Samoan forest, he will return with

an empty bag, as, however plentiful the birds may be, their habit of

hiding in the branches of the lofty _tamanu_ and _masa'oi_-trees render

them difficult of detection. The natives themselves are very good shots,

and very rarely fail to bring down a bird, even when nothing more than a

scarlet leg or a blue-grey feather is visible. The guns they use are

very common, cheap German affairs, but are specially made for Samoa,

being very small bored and long in the barrel. The best time is in the

early morning and towards the cool of the evening, when the birds are

feeding on _masa'oi_ and other berries; during the heat of the day they

seldom leave their perches, though their deep crooning note may be heard

everywhere. In the mountainous interiors of Upolu and Savaii there is

but little undergrowth; the ground is carpeted with a thick layer of

leaves, dry on the top, but rain and dew-soaked beneath, and simply to

breathe the sweet, cool mountain air is delightful. At certain times of

the year the birds are very fat, and I have very often seen them

literally burst when striking the ground after being shot in high trees.

Their flavour is delicious, especially if they are hung for a day. I may

here remark that, in New Britain, precisely the same species of pigeon

is very often quite uneatable through feeding upon Chili berries, which

in that island grow in profusion. In shooting in a Samoan forest one has

nothing to fear from venomous reptiles, for, although there are two or

three kinds of snakes, they are rarely ever seen and quite harmless.

Scorpions and centipedes--the latter often six inches in length--there

are in plenty, but these detestable vermin are more common in European

habitations than in the bush. At the same time, mosquitoes are a

terrible annoyance anywhere in the vicinity of water, and delight in

attacking the tender skin of the stranger. Then, again, beware of

scratching any exposed part of the skin, for, unless it is quickly

covered by plaister or otherwise attended to, an irritating sore, which

may take months to heal, will often result.

There are, during the visit of a travelling party to a Samoan town, no

fixed times for meals. You are expected to eat much and often. During

the day there will be continuous arrivals of people bringing baskets of

provisions as presents, which are formally presented--with a speech. The

speech has to be responded to, and the bringers of the presents treated

politely, as long as they remain, and they remain until their

curiosity--and avarice--is satisfied. A return present must be sent on

the following day; for although Samoans designate every present of food

or anything else made to a party of visitors as an "alofa"--_i.e.,_ a

gift of love--this is but a hollow conventionalism, it being the

time-honoured custom of the country to always give a _quid pro quo_ for

whatever has been received. Yet it must not be imagined that they are a

selfish people; if the recipients of an "alofa" of food are too poor to

respond otherwise than by a profusion of thanks, the donors of the

"alofa" are satisfied--it would be a disgrace for their village to be

spoken of as having treated guests meanly.

After evening service--conducted on week-days in each house by the head

of the family--another meal is served. Then either lamps or a fire of

coconut-shells is lit, and there is a great making of _sului_, or

cigarettes of strong tobacco rolled in dry banana leaf, and there is

much merry jostling and shoving among the young lads and girls for a

seat on the matted floor, to hear the white people talk. A dance is sure

to be suggested, and presently the _fale po-ula,_ or dance-house, is lit

up in preparation, as the dancers, male and female, hurry away to adorn

themselves. Much has been said about the impropriety of Samoa dancing by

travellers who have only witnessed the degrading and indecent

exhibitions, given on a large scale by the loafing class of natives who

inhabit Apia and its immediate vicinity. The natives are an adaptive

race, and suit their manners to their company, and there are always

numbers of sponging men and _paumotu_ (beach-women) ready to pander to

the tastes of low whites who are willing to witness a lewd dance. But in

most villages, situated away from the contaminating influences of the

principal port, a native _siva_, or dance, is well worth witnessing, and

the accompanying singing is very melodious. It is, however, true, that

on important occasions, such as the marriage of a great chief, &c., that

the dancing, decorous enough in the earlier stages of the evening,

degenerates under the influence of excitement into an exhibition that

provokes sorrow and disgust. And yet, curiously enough, the dancers at

these times are not low class, common people, but young men and women

of high lineage, who, led by the _taupo_, or maid of the village, cast

aside all restraint and modesty. In many of the dances the costumes are

exceedingly pretty, the men wearing aprons made of the yellow and

scarlet leaves of the _ti_ or dracoena plant, with head-dresses formed

of pieces of iridescent pearl-shell, intermixed with silver coins and

scarlet and amber beads, and the hair of both sexes is profusely adorned

with the scarlet flowers of the hibiscus, while from their necks depend

large strings of _sea-sea, masa'oi,_ and other brightly-coloured and

sweet-smelling berries. Of late years the Tahitian fashion of wearing

thick wreaths of orange or lemon blossoms has come into vogue.

Before concluding these remarks upon Samoa, I must mention that the

climate is very healthy for the greater part of the year; but in the

rainy season, December to March, the heat is intense, and sickness is

often prevalent, especially in Apia. Still fever, such as is met with in

the New Hebrides and the Solomon Group, "the grave of the white man in

the South Seas," is unknown, and one may sleep in the open air with

impunity. Before setting out from Apia the services of a competent

interpreter should be secured--a man who thoroughly understands the

Samoan _customs_ as well as the language. Plenty of reliable half-castes

can always be found, any one of whom would be glad to engage for a very

moderate payment. Too often the pleasures of such a trip as I have

described have been marred by the interpreter's lack of tact and

knowledge of the idiosyncrasies of the inhabitants of the various

districts and villages. The mere fact of a man being able to speak the

language fairly well is not the all in all; for the Samoans are a highly

sensitive people, and the omission by the interpreter of a chief's

titles, &c., when the guests are responding through him to an address of

welcome, would be considered "shockingly bad form."

But the reader must not imagine that the Samoan Group is the only one in

the South Pacific where an enjoyable holiday may be spent. The French

possession of the Society Islands, of which the pretty town Papeite, in

the noble island of Tahiti, is the capital, rivals, if not exceeds,

Samoa in the magnificence of its scenery, and the natives are a highly

intelligent race of Malayo-Polynesians who, despite their being citizens

of the French Republic, never forget that they were redeemed from

savagery by Englishmen, and a _taata Peretane_ (Englishman) is an

ever-welcome guest to them. The facilities for visiting the different

islands of the Society Group are very good, for there is quite a fleet

of native and European-owned vessels constantly cruising throughout the

archipelago. To cross the island of Tahiti from its south-east to its

north-west point is one of the most delightful trips imaginable. Then

again, the Hervey or Cook's Group, which consist of the fertile islands

of Mangaia, Rarotonga, Atui, Aitutaki, and Mauki, are well worth

visiting. The people speak a language similar to that of Tahiti, and

they are a fine, hospitable race, albeit a little over-civilised. Both

of these groups can be reached from Auckland by sailing vessels, but

not direct from Sydney. As for the lonely islands of the North Pacific,

they are too far afield for any one to visit but the trader or the

traveller to whom time is nothing.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

1: Literally, "clear crony."

2: Port.

3: Happiness.

4: A libertine, profligate.

5: My love to you, Pâkía; are you well?

6: White foreigners.

7: Frank.

8: Small-pox.

9: An accordion.

10: Idler, gad about--a Samoan expression.

11: German.

12: The Tokelau and Ellice Islanders are much amused at the white man's

method of hauling in a heavy fish hand _over_ hand. This to them is

"_faka fafine_"--i.e., like a woman.

13: Cayse.

14: NOTE BY THE PUBLISHER.--This incident is related by the author in

"By Reef and Palm" under the title of "The Rangers of the Tia Kau."

15: PUBLISHER'S NOTE.--This Alan Strickland is the "Allan" who has so

frequently figured in the author's other tales of South Sea life,

notably in the works entitled "By Reef and Palm" and "The Ebbing of

the Tide."

16: Councillors.

17: _Apo! lima_! "Be quick with your hand!" The passage is narrow and

dangerous, even for canoes, and the steersman, as he watches the

rolling surf, calls out _Apo, lau lima_! to his crew--an expression

synonymous to our nautical, "Pull like the devil!"