THE WHITE MAN'S FOOT.
BY
GRANT ALLEN,
AUTHOR OF "BABYLON," "IN ALL SHADES," ETC., ETC.
_WITH SEVENTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. FINNEMORE._
LONDON:
HATCHARDS, PICCADILLY, W.
1888.
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BUNGAY.
[Illustration: 'BOWING DOWN TOWARDS THE MOUTH OF THE CRATER, THEY SEEMED
TO SALUTE THE GODDESS OF THE VOLCANO.']
DEDICATION.
TO
JERRARD GRANT ALLEN,
_THE ONLY BEGETTER OF THESE ENSUING ADVENTURES._
My Dear Grantie,
From the following pages, written with a single eye to your own personal
tastes and predilections, you may, I trust, learn three Great Moral
Lessons.
First, never to approach too near the edge of an active volcano.
Second, never to continue your intimacy with a man who deliberately and
wickedly declines to pull you out of a burning crater.
And third, never to intrust the care of youth to a cannibal heathen
South Sea Islander.
With the trifling exception of these three now enumerated, I am not
aware that you can extract any Great Moral Lesson whatsoever from the
hairbreadth escapes of Kea and her associates.
Having thus almost entirely satisfied your expressed wishes in this
matter--for "a story without a moral"--I subscribe myself, with pride,
Your obedient servant and very loving father,
G.A.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"BOWING DOWN TOWARDS THE MOUTH OF THE CRATER, THEY SEEMED TO SALUTE THE
GODDESS OF THE VOLCANO" _Frontispiece._
"IT'S MORE THAN DANGEROUS. IT'S ALMOST CERTAINLY FATAL"
"ALL AT ONCE A GREAT BODY OF GAS WAS EJECTED INTO THE AIR, IN A BLAZE OF
LIGHT"
"'YOUNG MAN,' HE CRIED, '...I WARN YOU NOT TO TRIFLE WITH THE BURNING
MOUNTAIN'"
"I ROLLED DOWN RAPIDLY TO THE VERY BOTTOM"
"I LAY THERE HORROR-STRICKEN, AND GAZED IDLY DOWN"
"I CLUTCHED THE CRUMBLING PEAK WITH MY HOOKED FINGERS"
"SHE CARRIED ME SLOWLY UP THE ZIG-ZAG PATH"
"'IF YOU KNEW ALL,' SHE ANSWERED, 'HOW YOU WOULD PITY ME!'"
"'EVERYTHING IS CORRECT,' HE WHISPERED"
"SHE LOOKED UP IN AN AGONY OF SUSPENSE"
"KEA TRIED ON ALL HER THINGS"
"A STRANGE PROCESSION BEGAN SLOWLY TO DESCEND"
"THE BAMBOO BENT OMINOUSLY DOWN"
"WE RODE AT FULL SPEED IN BREATHLESS HASTE"
THE WHITE MAN'S FOOT.
CHAPTER I
My brother Frank is a most practical boy. I may be prejudiced, but it
seems to me somehow there's nothing like close personal contact with
active volcanoes to teach a young fellow prudence, coolness, and
adaptability to circumstances. "Tom," said he to me, as we stood and
watched the queer party on deck, devouring taro-paste as a Neapolitan
swallows down long strings of macaroni: "don't you think, if we've got
to live so long in a native hut, and feed on this port of thing, we may
as well use ourselves to their manners and customs, whatever they may
be, at the pearliest convenient opportunity?"
"Haven't you heard, my dear boy," said I, "what the naval officer wrote
when he was asked to report to the Admiralty on that very subject of the
manners and customs of the South Sea Islanders? 'Manners they have
none,' he replied with Spartan brevity, 'and their customs are
beastly.'"
"Not a bit of it," Frank answered quickly in his jolly way. "For my part
I think this sticky, pasty stuff they're eating with their fingers,
though it's a bit stodgy, looks like real jam, and I'd much rather take
my lunch off things like that up here on deck, out of a native calabash,
than go down and eat a civilized meal with a knife and fork in that
hoky-poky, stuffy little cabin there."
I confess, for myself, I didn't exactly like the look of it.
Cosmopolitan as I am, I object to fingers as a substitute for spoons. We
were on board the Royal Hawaiian mail steamer _Liké Liké_, 500 tons
registered burden, from Honolulu for Hilo, in the island of Hawaii; and
a quainter group than the natives on deck I'm bound to admit, in all my
wanderings, by sea or by land, I had never set eyes on. The tiny
steamer was built in fact on purpose to accommodate all tastes alike,
be the same savage or civilized. Down stairs was a saloon where regular
meals in the European fashion were well served by a dusky Polynesian
steward in a white linen jacket, to such luxurious persons as preferred
to take them in that orthodox manner. But the unsophisticated natives,
in their picturesque dress, believing firmly in the truth of the proverb
that fingers were made before forks, liked better to carry their own
simple provisions in their baskets with them. They picnicked on deck in
merry little circles, laughing and talking at the top of their voices
(when they weren't sea-sick) as they squatted on their mats of woven
grass round the family taro-bowl. From this common dish, parents and
children, young men and maidens, fed all alike, each dipping his
forefinger dexterously into the sticky mess, and then twisting it round,
as one might twist a lot of half-boiled toffee, till they landed it
safely with a sudden twirl in their appreciative mouths. "It must be
awfully good," Frank went on meditatively, eyeing the doubtful mixture
with a hungry look. "They seem to enjoy it so, or else of course they
wouldn't lick their fingers! I wish we could strike up a friendship now
with some of these amiable light-coloured natives, and get them to share
their lunch with us off-hand. I wonder what they call this precious
stuff of theirs?"
"We call it taro," one of the nearest group answered, greatly to our
surprise, in perfectly good and clear English. "Would you like to taste
some? It's very nice. We shall be delighted if you'll try it. Hawaiians
are always proud indeed to show any hospitality in their power to
friendly strangers."
She was a pretty young girl of eighteen who spoke, lighter a good deal
in complexion than most of the other natives around, and she was seated
with a tall, dark, serious-looking old Hawaiian at a calabashful of the
strange pasty mixture the appearance of which had so attracted Frank's
favourable attention. As she spoke, she moved a little aside to make
room for us on her mat, as if they were all playing Hunt-the-Slipper;
and Frank, whose fault, I'm bound to admit, was never shyness, squatted
down at once, nothing loth, tailor-fashion, on the deck by her side,
and with many thanks accepted the courteous offer of a dip in the
taro-bowl.
"Upon my word, Tom," he said, twirling a great dab of the queer-looking
paste awkwardly into his mouth, "it's first-rate grub when you come to
taste it. A little sour to be sure, but as good as pancakes. If you're
going to feed us like this on the islands, sir," he added, turning to
the stern old man, "I don't think we'll be in any hurry to run away
again."
"Bring out some more food, Kea," the dark old Hawaiian half whispered to
the girl politely, in English not quite so good as her own, but still
very fluent, "and ask the gentleman," with a slight bow towards me, "if
he won't be good enough to join us in our simple luncheon."
"I shall be only too glad," I answered, immensely surprised, and with
some qualms of conscience about my unfortunate remark as to the manners
and customs, which I never expected any native on board to understand.
"It will be much more pleasant, I'm sure, to take my meals up here on
deck than to go down to that hot and stuffy little saloon below."
As I seated myself, the girl Kea took up from her side a pretty basket
of plaited palm-leaves, and produced from it a few pieces of dried fish,
some cold roast pork, a stick or two of sugar-cane, several fresh
oranges just picked from the tree, and a tempting display of bananas and
bread-fruits. Frank and I were old enough sailors and old enough
travellers to fare sumptuously off such excellent food stuffs; indeed we
had just arrived in the Islands from San Francisco by the last mail
steamer, and fresh fruit was a great luxury to us; while after so long a
voyage on the open Pacific we thought nothing of this pleasant little
summer cruise between the beautiful members of that volcanic
archipelago.
A meal together is a capital introduction. In the course of ten minutes
we were all four of us on excellent terms with one another. Kea had
introduced to us the dark old man as her Uncle Kalaua, a Hawaiian chief
of the old stock of some distinction, whose house was remarkable for
being situated higher up the slopes of the great volcano, Mauna Loa,
than any other on the entire island. She herself, she let us know by
casual side-glimpses, was a half-caste by birth, though she hardly
looked as dark as many Europeans; her mother had been Kalaua's only
sister, and her father the captain of an English whaling-ship; but both
were dead, she added with a sigh, and she lived now with her grim old
uncle near the very summit of the great burning mountain. She told us a
vast deal about herself, in fact, by way of introduction, with the usual
frankness of the simple, unsophisticated children of nature, and she
asked us a lot of questions in return, being anxious to learn, as we
were neither missionaries, nor whalers, nor sugar-planters, nor
merchants, what on earth our business could be in Hawaii.
"Well," said I, with a smile of amusement, "you'll think it a very funny
one indeed when I tell you what it is. We've come to make observations
on Mauna Loa."
"To make observations!" Kea answered with a faint thrill of solemn awe
in her hushed voice. "Oh, don't say that. It's--it's so very
dangerous." And she glanced aside timidly at her uncle.
Kalaua looked up at us quickly with a suspicious glance. "Observations
on Mauna Loa?" he cried in a very stern tone. "On our great volcano?
Scientific observations? The man is ill advised in truth who tries to go
poking and prying too much about Mauna Loa!"
"Oh, you needn't be afraid," Frank answered laughing; "need they, Tom?
It's not by any means our first experience of eruptions. My brother's an
awful dab at volcanoes, you know. He's seen dozens; and he's been sent
out to examine this one in particular by the British Association for the
Advancement of Science. I'm his assistant-examiner, without salary.
Sounds awfully grand that, doesn't it? But we mean to have a jolly lark
in Hawaii for all that. Expenses paid, and all found; and nothing to do
but to go down the crater and look about us. We expect to have a
splendid time. There's nothing I love like a really good volcano."
But in spite of Frank's enthusiastic way of looking at the matter I
could see at a glance that the mention of our object in visiting Hawaii
had cast a shade of gloom at once over both Kea and her uncle. The old
man seemed to grow moody and sullen; Kea was rather grieved and
saddened. The rest of our meal passed off less pleasantly. It was not
till we began to chew green sugar-cane together by way of dessert, that
Kea's spirits at all returned. She laughed and talked then once more
with native good-humour, showing us how to strip and peel the fresh
cane, and making fun of us merrily because in our English awkwardness we
got pieces of the fibre wedged hopelessly in between our front teeth.
Yet even so I couldn't help suspecting that something was weighing upon
her mind a little. Evidently they were either hurt or distressed that we
should think of scientifically observing Mauna Loa. I wondered much
whether they held the mountain too sacred a thing for inquisitive
science to poke its nose into, or whether they only considered it too
dangerous a crater for the bold explorer to meddle with carelessly. If
it was merely the last, I didn't much mind. Frank and I were thoroughly
at home with nasty-tempered volcanoes, and knew their tricks and their
manners down to the ground far too well to be in the least afraid of
them. I had been engaged in studying their manifestations indeed for the
last six years; and Frank, who was born to face danger, had joined me in
all my expeditions and explorations ever since he'd been big enough to
carry a knapsack.
In the course of the afternoon however I happened to be standing with
pretty little Kea near the bow of the steamer, while her uncle was
slowly pacing the quarterdeck, immersed in conversation with a Hawaiian
acquaintance. She was a graceful young girl, with a wreath of yellow
flowers twined, Pacific fashion, round her broad straw hat, and another
garland of crimson hibiscus thrown lightly like a scarf like one
well-shaped shoulder. She glanced timidly round to see if Kalaua was
well out of earshot; then, seeing herself safe, she said to me in a low,
half-whispered voice, "If I were you, Mr. Hesselgrave, I'd give up the
idea of exploring Mauna Loa."
"Give it up!" I cried. "Why, really, you know, that would be quite
impossible! I've come all the way from England on purpose to visit it.
Is the mountain so very dangerous then?"
[Illustration: "IT'S MORE THAN DANGEROUS, IT'S ALMOST CERTAINLY FATAL."]
Kea's voice dropped a tone lower still. "It's more than dangerous," she
said very nervously. "It's almost certainly fatal."
"How so?" I asked. I was not easily frightened.
She hesitated a moment. Then she answered with a pained and
half-terrified air, "Nobody in Hawaii will give you any assistance."
"Why not?" I inquired. "Are they all so dreadfully afraid of the
volcano?"
"Not of the volcano," Kea replied with evident awe in her tone, "but of
Pélé, of Pélé.----I suppose you've never even heard about Pélé, though!"
"Never!" I repeated, laughing unconcernedly. "Enlighten my darkness. Who
is he, or what is it?"
"It's neither _he_ nor _it_," the Hawaiian girl answered in a hushed
voice. "It's _she_, if it's anybody. Pélé's the goddess who lives, as
our people used once to believe, in a fiery cave at the bottom of Mauna
Loa!"
"Nonsense!" I replied, amused at the girl's apparent superstition. "I
thought you were all converted here long ago. You don't mean to say your
people go on believing still in such childish nonsense as gods and
goddesses?"
Kea's voice sank lower than ever, and she glanced around her with a
frightened little gaze. "We don't _worship_ them, you know," she
answered apologetically, under her breath almost; "but we can't help
believing there's somebody there, of course, some super-natural being,
when we hear Pélé groaning and moaning and sobbing in the dead of night,
or see her casting up huge red-hot stones and showers of lava, whenever
she's angry." She paused a moment: then she added mysteriously in a
solemn undertone. "There must be something in it. My father knew that.
He was one of the bravest and most skilful whalers in the whole Pacific,
and he always said there was something in it."
I hadn't the heart to answer her back. I didn't consider the captain of
a whaling ship a conclusive authority on such a point of science; but I
couldn't bear to interfere with the poor girl's touching belief in her
dead father's supreme wisdom; so I abstained humanely from adverse
criticism. "And your uncle?" I asked after a brief interval.
Kea seemed almost terrified at the question. "My uncle," she said, in a
shuffling way, "knows one thing well--that, according to the firm
tradition of our ancestors, if the White Man's Foot ever treads the
inner floor of Pélé's home, the White Man himself must foil a victim
that day to the anger of the goddess. It may be true, or it may be
false: but at any rate, that was what our fathers told us."
I laughed again. She was so absurdly and profoundly in earnest about it
all. "In that case." I said with a little bow, "I may as well make my
will at once, and leave my property to my nearest relations, for it's
all up with me. I mean to explore the crater myself, and, I need hardly
tell you, Frank will accompany me. We'll call in some morning at the
front door, and drop a card on this terrible Pélé. I hope the lady will
have the politeness to be at home to receive visitors."
The girl shuddered. "Hush," she cried, with a terrified face. "Don't
talk like that. Don't talk any more about the matter at all. You don't
know what you're saying. My uncle is coming. I wouldn't for worlds he
should overhear us. We don't believe in Pélé any longer, of course. But
I hope for all that you'll never try to explore the crater."
At that very moment the old chief Kalaua, who had long been deeply
immersed in talk with his friend at the stern, apparently discussing
some serious subject, strolled up and joined us. He bowed once more as
he approached, with the strange old savage Hawaiian politeness; for in
courtesy of manner these Pacific Islanders could give points to most
educated Englishmen. "I was thinking," he said, withdrawing his cigar
and addressing me, "that if you and your brother really want to make
explorations in Mauna Loa you couldn't do better than come up and stop
at my house on the top of the mountain. It's nearest the summit of any
in the island, and it would be a convenient place for you always to
start from on your exploring expeditions. You'd save the long ride up
the slopes. May I venture to offer you the hospitality of a humble
Hawaiian roof? It's a nice warm house, European built--it was put up by
my English brother-in-law, Kea's father; and I think we could manage to
make you as comfortable as anybody in Hawaii. Is it agreed? What say
you?"
"You would allow me to pay for our board and lodging, of course?" I
answered interrogatively. "Otherwise I mustn't trespass so far as that
on your kind indulgence."
The old native drew himself up at once with offended dignity. "I'm a
chief," he replied with quiet emphasis. "The blood of the great
Kamehameha the First flows in my veins. When I ask you to my house, I
ask you as my guest. Don't offend me, I beg of you, by offering me
money!"
I felt I had really hurt the old chief's pride and wounded his feelings,
so I hastened to apologize with the best expressions I could summon up,
and to protest that I hadn't the remotest intention of slighting in any
way his generous offer. "In England," I continued, "we are not
accustomed to be received by perfect strangers in such a princely style
of open-handed hospitality."
Kalaua bowed. "It is well," he answered with stately dignity. "Come to
my house, and you shall have all that my house affords freely. May we
expect you to stop with us then? It will give myself and my niece the
greatest pleasure in life, I assure you, to receive you."
Kea from behind framed her lips, to my surprise, into an emphatic "No."
I saw it and smiled. She uttered no sound, but the old man seemed
instinctively to recognize the fact that she was making signs to me. He
turned round, half-angrily, though with perfect composure, and said
something to her in Hawaiian, which I did not then fully understand,
though I had been studying the language hard, with dictionary and
grammar, all the way out on my voyage from England. Kea looked
frightened and held her tongue at once. The old chief glanced back at me
for a decisive answer. In spite of Kea's warning I thought the
opportunity too good to be missed. "I shall be delighted," I answered
with my warmest manner. "I'm sure it's most kind of you. How can I
thank you enough? I had no idea you Hawaiians were so generously
hospitable."
When I told Frank of it that young rascal remarked with a solemn grin,
"Of course they're hospitable! Why, didn't they take in Captain Cook,
and roast him and eat him, they were so very fond of him? I expect
that's what this sober old fellow of yours means to do with us. He'll
give a dinner-party in our honour when we get there, no doubt, and you
and I will be the joints for the occasion. That's the Pacific way of
welcoming a stranger."