CHAPTER III

'Walter,' said Harry, throwing down the pigeon which he had shot, and

pointing to Little Nobby's, 'this is the lowest tide I have ever seen.

Look, the topmost fringe of kelp on the rocks is quite dry, and six feet

above the water, and there is no surf. Let's swim across the gut into

the cave.'

'As you please, sir,' the young man answered, his sun-tanned face

lighting up with pleasure; 'the wind is westerly, and the water very

clear; so, if there are any sharks about we can easily see them.'

So presently down we trooped, and, clambering over the jagged pinnacles

of rock, soon reached the seaward face of Little Nobby's. The cave of

which my brother had spoken was in the very centre of the cone, and the

only known way of access to it was by swimming across the narrow gut

or channel which cleft in twain the base of the hill. A boat, in calm

weather, might have easily rowed up to the mouth of the cave, but only

during a very low tide. No one, so far, had attempted this, and 'King

Billy,' when he saw my brother and Trenfield strip and jump into the

water, seemed much disturbed. The cave, he said, was the home of a

'debbil-debbil,' and 'twas dangerous for any human being to enter

it. But Harry and Trenfield had already swum across, clambered up the

kelp-covered ledge of the cave and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

For nearly ten minutes, or perhaps a quarter of an hour, Will and I

waited impatiently for their return, grumbling at not being allowed

to go with them, for the sea was as smooth as a mountain lake, and the

water so clear that the smallest pebble could be discerned lying upon

the white sandy bottom five fathoms below.

Said Will presently, 'I don't believe there's a shark within a mile; do

you?'

'No,' I answered, looking longingly at the crystal water and then at the

black mouth of the cavern, which neither Will nor I had ever entered.

'Then come on,' said Will, quickly, and in a few seconds we were out of

our clothes, and paying no heed to 'King Billy's' exclamations of terror

we dropped quietly into the water and swam across, telling him to stay

where he was and keep a look-out for sharks.

A few strokes brought us safely over, and then, as we climbed up and

stood on the cold rocky floor of the dark cave, our hearts began to fail

us somewhat--the place was so grim, silent and terrifying.

Feeling our way carefully along, however, we advanced for some ten or

twelve yards and then stopped, for though we heard the voices, we could

see the figures of Harry and Trenfield but dimly.

'Where are you?' cried Will.

'Over here,' answered my brother; 'you can come along if you like. We

think that there's a way of getting out by climbing up--we can see the

trees on the back of the hill.'

This was a discovery indeed, and Will and I, as we made our way to

where they sat, found the darkness decreasing at every step, and when

we reached them, we could see about us quite plainly, for thin, dimmed

shafts of sunlight penetrated the cavern from above by a narrow cleft,

through which we could see not only the dark foliage of the trees, whose

branches overhung the place, but a strip of blue sky.

'Listen!' said Will.

Somewhere near a 'butcher' bird was calling to its mate, who quickly

answered, and then the pair whistled sweetly and joyously together;

and when they ceased a bell-bird sounded his clear, resonant note

thrice--then silence.

Presently Walter and Harry set about to attempt an ascent, laughing

heartily at the thought of how we should startle poor 'King Billy' by

reappearing out of the bowels of the earth, instead of by the way we had

left him.

The top of the cleft was not more than thirty feet from the floor of the

cave, and its very narrowness reduced the difficulty of climbing up its

rugged sides, which were composed of pieces of rock embedded in earth.

In the centre, however, the walls approached so closely to each other

about half way down--within a few inches, in fact--that they were

blocked up with what appeared to be a mass of decaying branches, fallen

leaves and such _débris_.

Walter Trenfield went first, then Will, and Harry and I followed. We

found it much easier working our way up than we anticipated, for the

jutting points of rock gave us a good foothold, and the roots of trees,

living and dead, helped us greatly, for some of these grew across from

one side of the cleft to the other, and afforded us ladder-like steps.

Walter had nearly reached the mouth of the chasm, when Will, who was

ascending more leisurely and carefully behind him, put his foot upon the

thick mass of leaves and rotting wood which blocked up its centre, and,

finding it was firm, sat down upon it to rest himself. Presently,

to have some amusement at the expense of Harry and myself, who were

directly beneath him, he began to shower armfuls of dead leaves upon

us--then suddenly he uttered a cry of terror, sprang to his feet, and

clambered quickly to the top, where Trenfield seized him just as he was

about to fall.

Thinking that he had been frightened, or perhaps bitten by a black

snake or a death-adder, Harry and I climbed up after him as quickly

as possible, little heeding the cuts and bruises we inflicted upon

our naked bodies. As soon as we reached the ledge and flung ourselves,

panting and somewhat terrified, on the thick bed of leaves which covered

the ground like a carpet, we saw Walter Trenfield bending his tall,

naked figure over Will, who was crouched up in a heap and trying,

through his sobs of terror, to tell what it was that he had seen.

'There is a dead man down there,' he gasped, 'a dead man! When I took

up the last armful of leaves to throw down on Tom and Harry, I saw a

dreadful face beneath... it was almost a skull, but there is some flesh

on the face... and oh, Walter! _it has red hair like Tom May's._' Then,

overcome by the terror of that which he had seen, he sobbed afresh.

'Come,' sir,' said Trenfield to my eldest brother, 'we must go down and

look.'

Leaning over the brink of the narrow cleft, I watched Harry and

Trenfield descend, throw down the rotting leaves and timber which had

accumulated in the centre; and then I saw a dreadful sight--a shrunken,

awful face, with white, gleaming teeth, and two fleshless hands lying

together upon an all but skeleton chest. The rest of the body, except

one leg, which from the knee downwards was partly raised and showed a

bone protruding from a rough raw-hide boot, was mercifully concealed

from our sight by the coarse jumper and grey canvas trousers of a

convict.

Presently Walter looked up, and cried out in a strange, hoarse voice,--

'Go away, Master Tom, you must not look. Do you and Master Will wait for

us on the rocks, but first tell Billy to come here with our clothes.'

Will and I at once obeyed, glad to get away, and hurrying round the base

of the hill we returned to 'King Billy,' who, poor simple savage, had

given us up for lost, and was crouched up in a-heap on the rocks, making

a low whining noise like the cry of a very young puppy. He did truly

dance for joy when he heard our voices, and then at once, without asking

us what had happened, went off to Walter and Harry, taking their clothes

with him.

Will and I dressed ourselves, and then we sat down to wait.

'Tom,' said Will, who had now recovered his composure, 'I am sure it is

poor Tom May who is lying there. Do you remember a red silk handkerchief

which mother gave him last Christmas Day? Well, there is one exactly

like it round _its_ neck. I was too frightened to look closer, but Tom

always wore his handkerchief round his neck in a sailor's knot. And

then, too,' and here Will's eyes filled with tears and he began to sob,

'_it_ had bright red hair... it had nearly all fallen off, and...'

'Oh, Will,' I cried, 'don't tell me any more! I feel so sick.'

Nearly half an hour passed, and then we saw Harry and Trenfield, holding

each other's hand like two children, coming towards us. They sat down

near us, and then the young convict placed his big, brown hands over his

face, and heavy sobs broke from his broad chest.

'Oh, God! Master Harry!' he cried, 'is there no justice in the world?

To die there, in that awful place, like a rat in a trap! oh, it is

dreadful, dreadful! And then I thought that he was long ago far away

from here--a free man.'

'Do you think those two other men threw him down there, Walter?' asked

my eldest brother, almost in a whisper.

'No, sir,' he replied, catching his breath. 'Why should they murder the

man who alone was capable of taking the boat upon such a long voyage?

This is what I think, sir. Poor Tom, instead of coming down in the boat

with the other two, left them on Saturday and walked here so that he

might light a fire on the top of Little Nobby's on Sunday night to guide

them to the place. He told Ruth's father that he thought he should do

this in case the night turned out very dark. And Billy says that a fire

was made, and that when poor Tom was descending the hill to meet the

boat he fell into the cleft and got jammed between the rocky walls.'

'But would not the two other men make a search for him?'

'God knows, sir! We shall never know. They may have thought that Tom had

been captured, and that the fire had been lit by Ruth's father. But I

think that Billy is right, and that poor Tom, after lighting the fire,

was coming down the hill to meet the boat, when in the darkness he

wandered off the track and stepped into the crack at the widest part of

its mouth, which is right above where we found him. He must have fallen

upon his back and become so tightly wedged in in that awful place that

he could not use his arms to free himself. And then, sir, even if he had

not been stunned, his cries could not have been heard by the other two

men, who, unless they purposely made a search, would not have had any

reason to go within two hundred yards of the spot where he fell.'

Harry shuddered, and then for some time no one of us spoke. 'King Billy'

had been sent off to tell my father of the discovery of the body, or

rather skeleton, which Walter and Harry had at first attempted to free

from the walls of the chasm, but were too overcome to complete the task.

Together we slowly ascended the bluff, and there a surprise awaited us;

for, sitting on their horses, on the brow of the hill, were the dreaded

minister and his convict orderly. They had no doubt seen our bags and

guns lying on the grass, and had ridden to the crest of the bluff to

discover our whereabouts.

Mr Sampson eyed us all very sourly, and scarcely deigned to respond to

our salutations, as one by one we walked past him and busied ourselves

in silence over our impedimenta. No doubt he saw that both Harry and

Walter were very pale, and that Will and I had not yet dried our tears.

'Come here, boys,' he said in his harsh, pompous tones. 'What, may I

ask, is the cause of this grief which seems to be shared by all alike?'

Then, without waiting for an answer, his glance fell upon Walter

Trenfield, who, after saluting him, had turned away, and with averted

face was strapping some of our belongings together.

I saw the clergyman's coarse red face, with its fat, terraced chins,

grow purple with rage as I had seen it once before, and I instinctively

drew back.

'Ha!' he said, and urging his horse forward, he bent down and touched

the young convict on the shoulder with his whip. 'Ha! look up, fellow. I

want a word with you, sirrah.'

Trenfield, who was stooping at the moment, stood erect, and then, facing

the parson, again raised his hand to his cap. His face was deadly pale,

and his deep-set bright blue eyes seemed to have suddenly shrunken and

drawn back, and his whole body was trembling.

'Look at me, fellow,' said Mr Sampson, for the second time.

_'I am looking at you, sir._'

The words came from between his white lips and set teeth in a low,

hoarse whisper, and all the hatred in his heart seemed to go with them.

The clergyman eyed him for a few seconds in silence, but the convict met

his gaze unfalteringly.

'So 'tis to you, you scoundrel, that your ruffianly fellow-criminals

are indebted for so much amusement at my expense! Tell me, you villain,

where you got that picture, and who prompted you to display it? Answer

me quickly, you unhanged rascal!'

Trenfield's lips moved, but ere he could speak, my eldest brother

stepped forward, bravely enough.

'Indeed, sir, Trenfield had nothing to do with the picture. It was given

to me, but by some mischance was lost or stolen. I am sure, sir, that

Trenfield would not--'

'Trenfield is a villain. How dare you, presumptuous boy, seek to excuse

him! A good birching, for which you are not too old, would teach you

that reverence and respect for a clergyman which your mother has so

forgotten.'

Harry fired up quickly enough at the insulting words.

'How dare you, sir, speak to me in this fashion? My father shall hear of

this.'

'Let _me_ deal with him, the bloody-minded dog!' said a voice.

It was that of Walter Trenfield, who, springing forward, presented my

brother's loaded fowling-piece at the minister's head. 'Listen to me,

you beast in human form, you heartless fiend! I am going to send your

poisonous soul to hell.'

He pulled the trigger, but the gun missed fire; then swiftly clubbing

the weapon he brought it with terrific force against the clergyman's

chest and knocked him off the horse. The orderly at once turned, and

fled as his master fell.

The Reverend Mr Sampson lay prone upon the sward, his once red face

blanched to a deathly white, and over him, with grounded gun, stood the

young convict.

My brother tried to take the weapon from him, but Trenfield tossed him

aside with one hand as if he were a straw. Then for a minute he looked

at the prostrate man in silence; once he raised the gun by the muzzle,

then he threw it aside, and, kneeling beside the clergyman, placed his

face close to his.

'You dog, you dog, you damned dog! I could choke you now as you lie, you

brute beast. But I will let you live, to go to hell in God's own time,

you cruel, flogging wretch! _You_ murdered Thomas May--his rotting body

is not a hundred yards away. May the stink of it reach the nostrils of

Almighty God--and be in yours for ever!'

He rose quickly, took the saddle and bridle off the clergyman's horse,

and, striking the animal a sharp blow on the nose, sent it galloping

away into the forest; then he returned and again stood over Mr Sampson,

his face working with the violence of his passion.

'Are you going to murder me?' the minister asked gaspingly.

'No,' he replied savagely, kicking him again and again in the face, 'but

lie there, you bloody-minded swab, till I tell you you can go.'

And then, his passion spent, he turned to us with outstretched hand,--

'God bless you all, young gentlemen! God bless you, Master Harry! and

your good mother and Miss Frances and little Miss Olive. I am done for

now. But tell Ruth that if I am taken I'll die a man. And tell her,

Master Harry, that--that--'

My brother grasped his trembling hand, as for a moment he stood, gun in

hand, and swayed to and fro as if he were like to fall. Then he plunged

into the forest.

* * * * *

One night, three weeks after this, and whilst Mr Sampson was recovering

from his injuries, and a force of constables, with a black tracker, were

scouring the country for Walter, my mother called we children to her

bedroom. She had retired, but Ruth Kenna, with tears in her blue Irish

eyes, stood beside the bed.

'Quick, children,' said my mother, in a whisper, 'Ruth is going away.

Quick, quick; kiss her goodbye.'

And then whilst we, wondering, put our arms around dear Ruth, my mother

slipped out of bed, and taking some money out of a cabinet, put it into

the girl's hand, and said,--

'Good-bye, Ruth. You've been an honest girl to us. May God bless and

keep you always, my dear child, and do not fail to write.'

* * * * *

Next morning there was a great to-do, for Patrick Kenna's house was

found to be empty, and he and his daughter and Walter Trenfield were

never seen again in our part. But away out on the horizon were the sails

of a whale-ship which had been cruising about the coast for some days

past; and though my mother kept her own counsel for a long year, we

children soon knew that all three had escaped in the whaler, for my

brother Harry had received a letter from Trenfield. It was handed to

him by the aboriginal 'King Billy,' and contained only these

words,--'Good-bye, sir. Ruth and I and her father will be on the blue

water before daylight.'

When two years or more had passed, my mother received a letter. It was

written from Boston in America, and was signed 'Ruth Trenfield.'

'I am glad she and Walter are happy at last,' said my mother, with the

tears shining in her soft eyes.

A NORTH PACIFIC LAGOON ISLAND

Two degrees north of the Equator, and midway between the Hawaiian

Islands and fair, green Tahiti, is the largest and most important of

the many equatorial isolated lagoon islands which, from 10 deg. N. to

10 deg. S., are dispersed over 40 deg. of longitude. The original native

name of this island has long been lost, and by that given to it by

Captain Cook one hundred and twenty years ago it is now known to Pacific

navigators--Christmas Island. Cook was probably the first European to

visit and examine the place, though it had very likely been sighted by

the Spaniards long before his time, in the days of the voyages of the

yearly galleons between the Philippines and Mexico and Peru.

On the afternoon of December 24, 1777, Cook (in the _Resolution_ and

_Discovery_) discovered to leeward of the former ship a long, low,

sandy island, which proved to be about ninety miles in circumference.

It appeared to be an exceedingly barren-looking land, save on the

south-west side, where grew a luxuriant grove of coco-palms. Here he

brought his ships to an anchor, and partly to recuperate his crews,

who were in ill health, and partly to observe an eclipse of the sun, he

remained at the island some weeks. He soon discovered that the lagoon in

the centre was of noble proportions, and that its waters teemed with

an immense variety of fish and countless 'droves' of sharks. To-day it

remains the same.

Fifty years passed ere this lonely atoll was visited by another ship,

and then American and English whalers, or, as they were called in those

days, 'South Seamen,' began to touch at the island, give their crews a

few days' spell amid the grateful shade of the palm grove and load their

boats to the gunwales with fat green turtle, turtle eggs, robber crabs,

and sea-birds' eggs. From that time the place became well known to the

three or four hundred of sperm whalers engaged in the fishery, and,

later on, to the shark-catching vessels from the Hawaiian Islands.

Then, sixteen years ago, Christmas Island was taken up by a London firm

engaged in the South Sea Island trade under a lease from the Colonial

Office; this firm at once sent there a number of native labourers from

Manhiki, an island in the South Pacific. These, under the charge of

a white man, were set to work planting coco-nuts and diving for pearl

shell in the lagoon. At the present time, despite one or two severe

droughts, the coco-nut plantations are thriving, and the lessees should

in another few years reap their reward, and hold one of the richest

possessions in the South Seas.

The island is of considerable extent, and though on the windward or

eastern side its appearance is uninviting in the extreme, and the fierce

oceanic currents that for ever sweep in mighty eddies around its shores

render approach to it difficult and sometimes dangerous, it has yet

afforded succour to many an exhausted and sea-worn shipwrecked crew who

have reached it in boats. And, on the other hand, several fine ships,

sailing quietly along at night time, unaware of the great ocean currents

that are focussed about the terrible reefs encompassing the island, have

crashed upon the jagged coral barrier and been smashed to pieces by the

violence of the surf.

Scarcely discernible, from its extreme lowness, at a distance of more

than eight miles from the ship's deck, its presence is made known hours

before it is sighted by vast clouds of amphibious birds, most of which

all day long hover about the sea in its vicinity, and return to their

rookeries on the island at sunset. On one occasion, when the vessel in

which I was then serving was quite twenty miles from the land, we were

unable to hear ourselves speak, when, just before it became dark, the

air was filled with the clamour of countless thousands of birds of

aquatic habits that flew in and about our schooner's rigging. Some

of these were what whalemen call 'shoal birds,' 'wide-awakes,'

'molly-hawks,' 'whale birds' and 'mutton birds.' Among them were some

hundreds of frigate birds, the _katafa_ of the Ellice Islanders, and a

few magnificently plum-aged fishers, called _kanapu_ by the natives of

Equatorial Polynesia.

Given a good breeze and plenty of daylight, the whale-ships of the olden

days could stand round the western horn of the island, a projecting

point rendered pleasingly conspicuous by the grove of graceful

coco-palms which Cook was so glad to observe so many years before, and

then enter a deep bay on the north-west coast, where they obtained

good anchorage in from fifteen to twenty fathoms of water of the most

wonderful transparency, and within a mile of the vast stretches of

white sandy beach that trend away for miles on either hand. And then the

sailors, overjoyed at the delightful prospect of running about in the

few and widely-apart palm groves, and inhaling the sweet, earthy smell

of the thin but fertile soil, covered with its soft, thick bed of

fallen leaves, would lower away the boats, and pulling with their united

strength through the sweeping eddies of the dangerous passage, effect

a landing on a beach of dazzling whites and situated in the inner

south-west border of the wide lagoon.

On our first visit to the island, in 1872, we had some glorious fishing;

and when we returned on board, under the rays of a moon that shone with

strange, uncanny brilliancy, and revealed the coral bottom ten fathoms

below, the scene presented from our decks was one of the greatest

imaginable beauty, though the loneliness of the place and the absence of

human life was somewhat depressing. We remained at the island for three

days, and during our stay our crew of South Sea Islanders literally

filled our decks with fish, turtle and birds' eggs. Curiously enough,

in our scant library on board the little trading vessel I came across

portion of a narrative of a voyage in a South Seaman, written by her

surgeon, a Mr Bennett, in 1838,{*} and our captain and myself were much

interested in the accurate description he gave of Christmas Island and

its huge rookeries of oceanic birds.

* _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the Globe, from_ 1833

to 1836. By F. D. Bennett.

This is what he says: 'Here and there among the low thicket scrubs are

vast rookeries of aquatic birds, whose clamour is deafening. They nest

and incubate upon the ground, and show not the slightest fear of the

approach of human visitors. Among the sooty terns, whose number it was

impossible to estimate, were many hundreds of tropic birds and pure

snow-white petrels.' (He no doubt imagined the pure snow-white petrels

to be a distinct species--they were young tropic birds.) 'These latter,

who flew with a gentle, flapping motion, would actually fly up to us and

scan our countenances with an almost human expression of interest and

curiosity.' (Darwin, in his account of another Christmas Island in the

Indian Ocean, also describes these gentle creatures as being of ethereal

beauty.) 'Some, indeed, permitted themselves to be caught, and although

their delicate, fragile forms quivered with fear when they came in

contact with our hands, they would, when released, return to us again

and again, as if seeking to solve the mystery of what strange beings

were these that had invaded their retreat. In one rookery there were

many varieties of these oceanic birds, and a species of booby that

seems to be peculiar to Christmas Island. In size and colour they much

resemble the ordinary gannet of our cold northern seas. Their plumage is

of a wondrously bright snow white, with the exception of the primary and

secondary feathers of the wings, and the _retrices_ or tail feathers,

which are of a glossy black. The skin of the cheeks and chin is devoid

of feathers, and of a jet black colour, the beak a delicate yellow blue,

the legs bright blue. The solicitude of the female birds of this species

for their offspring was most interesting to witness. Their nests were

of the rudest description, being merely circular heaps of sand raised in

the open plain and exposed to the fury of storms. As we approached the

nests the mother birds settled themselves down upon their single egg

and screamed loudly, but would permit themselves to be lifted off, yet

struggled violently in our hands to get back again. Although there were

thousands of these nests within a radius of an acre, a brooding

hen might easily have been passed unnoticed, for her white plumage

corresponded so well with the hue of the coral sands that one was apt to

kick against the nest were it not for the agonised, barking note of the

poor mother. The male birds, however, of this species did not show any

marital concern for their partners. They were usually seated near the

nests, but at once took to flight upon our approach. Further on, among

a thicket of scrubby vegetation, we found a rookery of many thousands of

the superb red-tailed tropic bird (_Phaeton phoenicurus_), also engaged

in incubation. Their nests were mere circular excavations in the sand,

under the shade of the bushes of the thicket. Each nest contained an

egg of pure white, dotted with delicate lilac spots, and in size rather

larger and rounder than that of the domestic hen. The females, as

well as the males, made no attempt to escape from their nests on our

approach, whether they had or had not the care of eggs, and consequently

several of our crew, with innate Polynesian vanity, soon caught a

number, and plucking out the two long scarlet tail feathers placed them

in their hat bands.

'A hundred yards away from the rookery of the tropic birds was one of

a colony of the snowy tern before mentioned. These gentle, black-eyed

creatures do not even pretend to construct a nest, but simply deposit a

solitary egg upon the bough of a tree (like the _gogo_, or whale bird).

They select for this purpose a tree destitute of foliage, and a branch

of horizontal growth. It is strange that, notwithstanding the exposed

situation of these eggs, they are very difficult to find; and it was

not until long after the solicitude of the parent birds informed us that

their spot of incubation was near that we could solve the mystery which

attended their nursery. Each egg is the size of a pigeon's, and marked

with either blood or chocolate-coloured splashes and spots of irregular

shape. Considering the slenderness of the branches on which they are

deposited, it is remarkable that the eggs (which appear to be at the

mercy of every passing breeze) should yet retain their extraordinary

position during incubation.' (Any Pacific Islander could easily have

explained this seeming mystery. The shell, when the egg is laid, is

covered with a strong adhesive coating. I have often seen a single egg,

laid upon a slender branch, swaying about in a strong trade wind, and

yet remain firmly in its position.) 'What may be the habits of the

newly-hatched birds we had no opportunity of learning, as none of the

latter came within our observation.

'Small reef birds (tern) were present in prodigious numbers, skimming

the waters of the coast with an erratic, rapid, but yet graceful flight,

like that of the stormy petrel. At night they assembled in vast numbers

on an islet in the lagoon, to roost on the trees. They are about the

size of an Australian snipe, and their forms are models of elegance and

beauty. Their plumage is in true slate colour, the secondary wings are

white, and a narrow white zone surrounds each eye; their legs and feet

are a pale blue, with white webs.

'Every now and then as we, during our visit, walked along the snow-white

beaches, great crowds of golden-winged plover and tiny snipe sprang

skyward, and swept in graceful gyrations over the broad expanse of

water, till they settled upon some sandy spit or spot of projecting

reef; and, indeed, the immense concourse or frigate birds, boobies,

terns, petrels and other aquatic denizens of the island filled us with

boundless astonishment.

'At night time there crept out from their lairs in the loose coral

shingle that lined the scrub at high-water mark, incredible numbers of

huge “land lobsters”--the “robber crab” of the Pacific Islands. They all

crawled to within a few feet of the placid waters of the lagoon, where

they remained motionless, as if awaiting some event--possibly to prey

upon the smaller species of _crustaceæ_ and turtle eggs.'

Christmas Island, in its structure and elevation, much resembles

Palmerston Island, Arrecifos or Providence Island (the secret rendezvous

of Captain 'Bully' Hayes), Brown's Range, and other low-lying atolls

of the North and South Pacific. The greater part of the interior of the

island is, however, despite the vast number of coco-nuts planted upon it

during the past ten years, still sadly deficient in cheerful vegetation.

The waters of the lagoon vary greatly in depth, but generally are

shallow and much broken up by sandy spits, reefs and huge coral boulders

which protrude at low water, and the surface is much subject to the

action of the trade wind, which, when blowing strong, lashes them into

a wild surf; and the low shores of the encircling islets, that form

a continuous reef-connected chain, are rendered invisible from the

opposite side by the smoky haze and spume which ascends in clouds from

the breaking surf that rolls and thunders on the outer barrier reefs.

In the interior no fresh water is obtainable, although in the rainy

season some of a brackish quality can be had by sinking shallow wells.

This water rises and falls in the wells in unison with the tides. Here

and there are very extensive swamps of sea-water, evaporrated to a

strong brine; the margins of these are clothed with a fair growth of

the pandanus or screw-pine palm, the fruit of which, when ripe, forms a

nutritious and palatable food for the natives of the Equatorial Pacific

Islands.

The island where Captain Cook set up his observatory is but a small

strip of sandy soil, clothed with a few coco-palms, some screw-palms

(pandanus), and a thick-matted carpet of a vine called _At At_ by the

natives. The only quadrupeds are rats, and some huge land tortoises,

similar to those of the Galapagos Islands. They are most hideous-looking

creatures, and, being of nocturnal habits, like the great robber crab,

are apt to produce a most terrifying impression upon the beholder, if

met with in the loneliness of the night. The present human occupants of

Christmas Island are, however, well supplied with pigs and poultry; and

though this far-away dot of Britain's empire beyond the seas is scarcely

known to the world, and visited but twice a year by a trading vessel

from Sydney, they are happy and contented in their home in this lonely

isle of the mid-Pacific.

BILGER, OF SYDNEY

A death in the family brought about my fatal acquaintance with Bilger.

A few days after the funeral, as my sister and I sat talking on the

verandah of our cottage (which overlooked the waters of Sydney Harbour)

and listened to the pouring rain upon the shingled roof, we saw a man

open the garden gate and come slowly up to the house. He carried an

ancient umbrella, the tack lashings of which on one side had given way

entirely, showing six bare ribs. As he walked up the path, his large,

sodden boots made a nasty, squelching sound, and my sister, who has a

large heart, at once said, 'Poor creature; I wonder who he is. I hope it

isn't the coal man come for his money.'

He went round to the back door and, after letting himself drain off a

bit, knocked gently and with exceeding diffidence.

I asked him his business. He said he wanted to see my wife.

'Not here. Gone away for a month.'

'Dear, dear, how sad! Broken down, no doubt, with a mother's grief. Is

there any other lady in the family whom I could see?'

'What the deuce do you want?' I began angrily; then, as he raised his

weak, watery eyes to mine, and I saw that his grey hairs were as wet as

his boots, I relented. Perhaps he was someone who knew my wife or her

people, and wanted to condole with her over the death of her baby. He

looked sober enough, so, as he seemed much agitated, I asked him to sit

down, and said I would send my sister to him. Then I went back to my

pipe and chair. Ten minutes later my sister Kate came to me with her

handkerchief to her eyes.

'_Do_ go and see the old fellow. He has _such_ a sympathetic nature.

I'm sure I should have cried aloud had I stayed any longer. Anyone would

think he had known poor little Teddie ever since he was born. I've asked

Mary to make him a cup of tea.'

'Who is he?'

'I don't know his name, but he seems so sympathetic. And he says he

should be so pleased if he might see you again for a few minutes. He

says, too, that you have a good and kind face. I told him that you would

be sure to take at least a dozen of those in cream and gold. There's

nothing at all vulgar; quite the reverse.'

'What _are_ you talking about, Kate? Who is this sodden old lunatic, and

what on earth are you crying for?'

My sister nearly sobbed. 'I always thought that what you derisively

termed “mortuary bards” were horrid people, but this old man has a

beautiful nature. And he's very wet--and hungry too, I'm sure; and Mary

looks at him as if he were a dog. Do try and help him. I think we might

get one or two dozen cream and gold cards, and two dozen black-edged.

And then he's a journalist, too. He's told me quite a sad little story

of his life struggle, and the moment I told him you were on the _Evening

News_ he quite brightened up, and said he knew your name quite well.'

'Kate,' I said, 'I don't want to see the man. What the deuce does he

want? If he is one of those loafing scoundrels of undertakers' and

mortuary masons' touts, just send him about his business; give him a

glass of whisky and tell Mary to clear him out.'

My sister said that to send an old man out in such weather was not like

_me_. Surely I would at least speak a kind word to him.

In sheer desperation I went out to the man. He addressed me in husky

tones, and said that he desired to express his deep sympathy with me in

my affliction, also that he was 'a member of the Fourth Estate.' Seven

years before he had edited the _Barangoora News_, but his determined

opposition to a dishonest Government led to his ruin, and now--

'All right, old man; stow all that. What do you want?'

He looked at me reproachfully, and taking up a small leather bag, said

that he represented Messrs ------, 'Monumental Masons and Memorial Card

Designers and Printers,' and should feel pleased if I would look at his

samples.

He was such a wretched, hungry-looking, down-upon-his-beam-ends old

fellow, that I could not refuse to inspect his wares. And then his boots

filled me with pity. For such a little man he had the biggest boots I

ever saw--baggy, elastic sides, and toes turned up, with the after part

of the uppers sticking out some inches beyond the frayed edges of his

trousers. As he sat down and drew these garments up, and his bare,

skinny legs showed above his wrecked boots, his feet looked like two

water-logged cutters under bare poles, with the water running out of the

scuppers.

Mary brought the whisky. I poured him out a good, stiff second mate's

nip. It did my heart good to see him drink it, and hear the soft

ecstatic 'Ah, ah, ah,' which broke from him when he put the glass down;

it was a _Te Deum Laudamus_.

Having briefly intimated to him that I had no intention of buying 'a

handsome granite monument, with suitable inscription, or twelve lines

of verse, for £4, 17s. 6d.,' I took up his packet of _In Memoriam_ cards

and went through them. The first one was a hand-drawn design in cream

and gold--Kate's fancy. It represented in the centre an enormously

bloated infant with an idiotic leer, lying upon its back on a blue cloud

with scalloped edges, whilst two male angels, each with an extremely

vicious expression, were pulling the cloud along by means of tow-lines

attached to their wings. Underneath were these words in MS.: 'More

angels can be added, if desired, at an extra charge of 6d. each.'

No. 2 represented a disorderly flight of cherubims, savagely attacking a

sleeping infant in its cradle, which was supported on either hand by

two vulgar-looking female angels blowing bullock horns in an apathetic

manner.

No. 3 rather took my fancy--there was so much in it--four large fowls

flying across the empyrean; each bird carried a rose as large as a

cabbage in its beak, and apparently intended to let them drop upon

a group of family mourners beneath. The MS. inscribed said, 'If

photographs are supplied of members of the Mourning Family, our artist

will reproduce same in group gathered round the deceased. If doves are

not approved, cherubims, angels, or floral designs may be used instead,

for small extra charge.'

Whilst I was going through these horrors the old man kept up a babbling

commentary on their particular and collective beauties; then he wanted

me to look at his specimens of verse, much of which, he added, with

fatuous vanity, was his own composition.

I did read some of it, and felt a profound pity for the corpse that had

to submit to such degradation. Here are four specimens, the first of

which was marked, 'Especially suitable for a numerous family, who have

lost an aged parent, gold lettering is. 6d. extra,'--

'Mary and May and Peter and John [or other names]

Loved and honoured him [or her] who has gone;

White was his [or her] hair and kind was his [or her] heart,

Oh why, we all sigh, were we made thus to part?'

_For an Aunt, (Suitable verses for Uncles at same rates.)_

'Even our own sweet mother, who is so kind,

Could not wring our hearts more if she went and left us behind;

A halo of glory is now on thy head,

Ah, sad, sad thought that good auntie is dead.'

_For a Father or Mother,_

'Oh children, dear, when I was alive,

To get you bread I hard did strive;

I now am where I need no bread,

And wear a halo round my head.

Weep not upon my tomb, I pray,

But do your duty day by day.'

The last but one was still more beautiful,--

_For a Child who suffered a Long Illness before Decease_.

[I remarked casually that a child could not suffer even a short illness

_after_ decease. Bilger smiled a watery smile and said 'No.']

'For many long months did we fondly sit,

And watch our darling fade bit by bit;

Till an angel called from out the sky,

“Come home, dear child, to the Sweet By-and-By.

Hard was your lot on earth's sad plain,

But now you shall never suffer again,

For cherubims and seraphims will welcome you here.

Fond parents, lament not for the loss of one so dear.”'

[N.B.--“_These are very beautiful lines_.”]

The gem of the collection, however, was this:--

_Suitable for a child of any age. The beautiful simplicity of the words

have brought us an enormous amount of orders from bereaved parents_.

'Our [Emily] was so fair,

That the angels envied her,

And whispered in her ear,

“We will take you away on [Tuesday] night.”'

[“_Drawing of angels carrying away deceased child, is. 6d. extra_.”]

The old imbecile put his damp finger upon this, and asked me what I

thought of it. I said it was very simple but touching, and then, being

anxious to get rid of him, ordered two dozen of Kate's fancy. He thanked

me most fervently, and said he would bring them to me in a few days. I

hurriedly remarked he could post them instead, paid him in advance, and

told him to help himself to some more whisky. He did so, and I observed,

with some regret, that he took nearly half a tumblerful.

'Dear, dear me,' he said, with an apologetic smile, 'I'm afraid I have

taken too much; would you kindly pour some back. My hand is somewhat

shaky. Old age, sir, if I may indulge in a platitude, is--'

'Oh, never mind putting any back. It's a long walk to the ferry, and a

wet day beside.'

'True, true,' he said meditatively, looking at Mary carrying in the

dinner, and drinking the whisky in an abstracted manner.

Just then my sister beckoned me out. She said it was very thoughtless of

me to pour gallons of whisky down the poor old fellow's throat, upon an

empty stomach.

'Perhaps you would like me to ask him to have dinner with us?' I said

with dignified sarcasm.

'I think we might at least let Mary give him something to eat.'

Of course I yielded, and my sister bade Mary give our visitor a good

dinner. For such a small man he had an appetite that would have done

credit to a long-fasting tiger shark tackling a dead whale; and every

time I glanced at Mary's face as she waited on my sister and myself I

saw that she was verging upon frenzy. At last, however, we heard him

shuffling about on the verandah, and thought he was going without saying

'thank you.' We wronged him, for presently he called to Mary and asked

her if I would kindly grant him a few words after I had finished dinner.

'Confound him! What the deuce--'

My sister said, 'Don't be cruel to the poor old fellow. _You may be like

him yourself some day._'

I said I didn't doubt it, if my womenfolk encouraged every infernal old

dead-beat in the colony to come and loaf upon me. Two large tears at

once ran down Kate's nose, and dropped into the custard on her plate. I

softened at once and went out.

'Permit me, sir,' he said, in a wobbly kind of voice, as he lurched to

and fro in the doorway, and tried to jab the point of his umbrella into

a knot-hole in the verandah boards in order to steady himself, 'permit

me, sir, to thank you for your kindness and to tender you my private

card. Perhaps I may be able to serve you in some humble way'--here the

umbrella point stuck in the hole, and he clung to the handle with both

hands--'some humble way, sir. Like yourself, I am a literary man, as

this will show you.' He fumbled in his breast pocket with his left hand,

and would have fallen over on his back but for the umbrella handle, to

which he clung with his right. Presently he extracted a dirty card and

handed it to me, with a bow, which he effected by doubling himself

on his stomach over the friendly gamp, and remained in that position,

swaying to and fro, for quite ten seconds. I read the card:--

MR HORATIO BILGER

Journalist and Littérateur

Formerly Editor of the 'Barangoora News'

Real Aylesbury Ducks for Sale

Book-keeping Taught in Four Lessons

4a Kellet Street,

Darlinghurst, Sydney

I said I should bear him in mind, and, after helping him to release his

umbrella, saw him down the steps and watched him disappear.

'Thank Heaven!' I said to Kate, 'we have seen the last of him.'

I was bitterly mistaken, for next morning when I entered the office,

Bilger was there awaiting me, outside the sub-editor's room. He was

wearing a new pair of boots, much larger than the old ones, and smiled

pleasantly at me, and said he had brought his son Edward to see me,

feeling sure that I would use my influence with the editor and manager

to get him put on as a canvasser.

I refused point blank to see 'Edward' then or at any other time, and

said that even if there was a vacancy I should not recommend a stranger.

He sighed, and said that I should like Edward, once I knew him. He was

'a noble lad, but misfortune had dogged his footsteps--a brave, heroic

nature, fighting hard against unmerited adversity.' I went in and shut

the door.

* * * * *

Two days later Kate asked me at supper if I _couldn't do something for

old Bilger's son_.

'Has that infernal old nuisance been writing to you about his confounded

son?'

'How ill-tempered you are! The “old nuisance,” as you call him, has

behaved very nicely. He sent his son over here to thank us for our

kindness, and to ask me to accept a dozen extra cards from himself. The

son is a very respectable-looking man, but rather shabby. He is coming

again to-morrow to help Mary to put up the new wire clothes line.'

'Is he? Well, then, Mary can pay him.'

'Don't be so horrid. He doesn't want payment for it. But, of course, I

shall pay his fare each way. Mary says he's such a willing young man.'

In the morning I saw Mr Edward Bilger, helping Mary. He was a fat-faced,

greasy-looking youth, with an attempted air of hang-dog respectability,

and with 'loafer' writ large on his forehead. I stepped over to him and

said,--

'Now, look here. I don't want you fooling about the premises. Here's two

shillings for you. Clear out, and if you come back again on any pretence

whatever I'll give you in charge.'

He accepted the two shillings with thanks, said that he meant no

offence, but he thought Mary was not strong enough to put up a wire

clothes line.

Mary (who was standing by, looking very sulky) was a cow-like creature

of eleven stone, and I laughed. She at once sniffed and marched away.

Mr Bilger, junior, presently followed her into the kitchen. I went after

him and ordered him out. Mary was leaning against the dresser, biting

her nails and looking at me viciously.

Half an hour later, as I walked to the ferry, I saw Mr Bilger, junior,

sitting by the roadside, eating bread and meat (my property). He stood

up as I passed, and said politely that it looked like rain. I requested

him to make a visit to Sheol, and passed on.

In the afternoon my sister called upon me at the _Evening News_ office.

She wore that look of resigned martyrdom peculiar to women who have

something unpleasant to say.

'Mary has given me notice--of course.'

'Why “of course!”'

Kate rose with an air of outraged dignity. 'Servants don't like to be

bullied and sworn at--not white servants, anyway. You can't expect the

girl to stay. She's a very good girl, and I'm sure that that young

man Bilger was doing no harm. As it is, you have placed me in a most

unpleasant position; I had told him that he could let his younger

brothers and sisters come and weed the paddock, and--'

'Why not invite the whole Bilger family to come and live on the

premises?' I began, when Kate interrupted me by saying that if I was

going to be violent she would leave me. Then she sailed out with an

injured expression of countenance.

When I returned home to dinner at 7.30, Mary waited upon us in sullen

silence. After dinner I called her in, gave her a week's wages in lieu

of notice, and told her to get out of the house as a nuisance. Kate went

outside and wept.

* * * * *

From that day the Bilger family proved a curse to me. Old Bilger wrote

me a note expressing his sorrow that his son--quite innocently--had

given me offence; also he regretted to hear that my servant had left me.

Mrs Bilger, he added, was quite grieved, and would do her best to send

some 'likely girls' over. 'If none of them suited, Mrs Bilger would

be delighted to come and assist my sister in the mornings. She was an

excellent, worthy woman.' And he ventured, with all due respect, to

suggest to me that my sister looked very delicate. His poor lad Edward

was very sad at heart _over the turn matters had taken_. The younger

children, too, were sadly grieved--to be in a garden, even to toil,

would be a revelation to them.

That evening I went home in a bad temper. Kate, instead of meeting me as

usual at the gate, was cooking dinner, looking hot and resigned, I dined

alone, Kate saying coldly that she did not care about eating anything.

The only other remark she made that evening was that 'Mary had cried

very bitterly when she left.'

I said, 'The useless, fat beast!'

* * * * *

The Curse of Bilger rested upon me for quite three months. He called

twice a week, regularly, and borrowed two shillings 'until next Monday.'

Then one day that greasy ruffian, Bilger, junior, came into the _Evening

News_ office, full of tears and colonial beer, and said that his poor

father was dead, and that his mother thought I might perhaps lend her a

pound to help bury him.

The sub-editor (who was overjoyed at Bilger's demise) lent me ten

shillings, which I gave to Edward, and told him I was sorry to hear the

old man was dead. I am afraid my face belied my words.

THE VISION OF MILLI THE SLAVE

One day a message came over from Tetoro, King of Paré, in Tahiti, to

his vassal Mahua, chief of Tetuaroa,{*} saying, 'Get thee ready a great

feast, for in ten days I send thee my daughter Laea to be wife to thy

son Narü.

* Tetuaroa is an island about forty miles from Tahiti. It

was in those days (1808) part of the hereditary possessions

of the chief of Paré.

For Narü, the son of the chief of Tetuaroa, had long been smitten with

the beauty of Laea, and desired to make her his wife. Only once had

he seen her; but since then he had sent over many canoes laden with

presents, such as hogs and turtle, and great bunches of plantains, and

fine tappa cloth for her acceptance.

But Tetoro, her father, was a greedy man, and cried for more; and Mahua,

so that his son might gain his heart's desire, became hard and cruel to

the people of Tetuaroa.

Day after day he sent his servants to every village on the island

demanding from them all such things as would please the eye of Tetoro;

so that by-and-by there was but little left in their plantations, and

still less in their houses.

And so, with sullen faces and low murmurs of anger, the people yielded

up their treasures of mats and tappa cloth, and such other things that

the servants of the chief discovered in their dwellings, and watched

them carried away to appease the avarice of Tetoro the King.

One night, when they were gathered together in their houses, and the

torches of _tui tui_ (candle-nut kernels) were lighted, they talked

among themselves, not loudly but in whispers, for no one knew but that

one of the chiefs body-men might perhaps be listening outside, and that

to them meant swift death from the anger of Mahua.

'Why has this misfortune come upon us?' they said to one another. 'Why

should Narü, who is an _aito_{*} set his heart upon the daughter of

Tetoro when there are women of as good blood as her close to his hand?

Surely, when she comes here to live, then will there be hard times in

the land, and we shall be eaten up with hunger.'

* A man distinguished in warfare.

'Ay,' said a girl named Milli, 'it is hard that we should give our all

to a strange woman.'

She spoke very loudly, and without fear, and the rest of the people

looked wonderingly at her, for she was but a poor slave, and, as such,

should not have raised her voice when men were present. So they angrily

bade her be silent. Who was she that dared to speak of such things? If

she died of hunger, they said, what did it matter? She was but a girl

and a slave, and girls' lives were worth nothing until they bore male

children.

And then Milli the Slave sprang up, her eyes blazing with anger, and

heaped scorn upon them for cowards.

'See,' she said, and her voice shook with passion; 'see me, Milli the

Slave, standing before ye all, and listen to my words, so that your

hearts may grow strong, even as strong as mine has grown. Listen while I

tell thee of a dream that came to me in the night.

'In my dream this land of ours became as it was fifteen moons ago, and

as it may never be again. I saw the groves of plantains, with their

loads of fruit, shine red and yellow, like the setting of the sun, and

the ground was forced open because of the great size of the yams and

taro and arrowroot that grew beneath; and I heard the heavy fall of the

ripe coconuts on the grass, and the crooning notes of the pigeons that

fed upon the red _mati_ berries were as the low booming of the surf on

the reef when it sounds far distant.'

For a little while she ceased, and the people muttered.

'Ay, it was so, fifteen moons ago.'

And then Milli, sinking upon one knee, and spreading out her arms

towards them, spoke again, but in a low, soft voice,--

'And I saw the white beach of Teavamoa black with turtle that could

scarce crawl seaward because of their fatness; and saw the canoes,

filled to the gunwales with white, shining fish, come paddling in from

the lagoon; and then came the night. And in the night I heard the sound

of the _vivo_{*} and the beat of the drum, and the songs and laughter

and the shouts of the people as they made merry and sang and danced,

and ate and drank, till the red sun burst out from the sea, and they lay

down to sleep.

* Nasal flute.

'And then, behold there came into my dream, a small black cloud. It

gathered together at Paré, and rose from the ground, and was borne

across the sea to Tetuaroa.{*} As it came nearer, darker and darker

grew the shadows over this land, till at last it was wrapped up in the

blackness of night. And then out of the belly of the cloud there sprang

a woman arrayed as a bride, and behind her there followed men with faces

strange to me, whose stamping footsteps shook the island to its roots in

the deep sea. Then came a mystic voice to me, which said,--

“Follow and see.”

* Tetoro's canoe, in which he sent his daughter to Tetuaroa,

was painted black by an English sailor who, living under his

protection, afterwards married his daughter.

'So I followed and saw'--she sprang to her feet, and her voice rang

sharp and fierce--'I saw the strange woman and those with her pass

swiftly over the land like as the shadows of birds fall upon the ground

when the sun is high and their flight is low and quick. And as they

passed, the plantains and taro and arrowroot were torn up and stripped

and left to perish; and there was nought left of the swarms of turtle

and fish but their bones; for the black cloud and the swift shadows

that ran before it had eaten out the heart of the land, and not even one

coco-nut was left.

'And then I heard a great crying and weeping of many voices, and I saw

men and women lying down in their houses with their bones sticking out

of their skins; and wild pigs, perishing with hunger, sprang in upon

them and tore their bellies open with their tusks, and devoured them,

and fought with each other among the bones and blood of those they ate.'

A groan of terror burst from the listening people, and the slave girl,

with her lips parted and her white teeth set, looked with gleaming,

angry eyes slowly round the group.

'Again I heard the cries and the groans and the weeping; and I saw thee,

Foani, take thy suckling child from thy withered breast, and give it to

thy husband, so that it might be slain to feed thy other children. And

then thou, too, Tiria, and thou, Hini, and many other women, did I see

slay thy children and their children, and cook and eat them, even as the

wild pigs had eaten those men and women that lay dying on their mats.

And this, O people! is all of the dream that came to me; for then a

great sweat ran down over my body, and a heavy pain came upon my heart,

so that I awoke.'

She trembled and sank down again among the women, in the midst of whom

she had been sitting, and then growling, angry murmurs ran round the

assemblage, and the names of Narü and the king's daughter passed from

lip to lip.

* * * * *

Well as they liked their chief's son--for he was distinguished alike

for his bravery and generosity--they yet saw that his marriage with Laea

would mean a continued existence of misery to them all, or at least so

long as the young man's passion for his wife lasted.

Past experience had taught them many a bitter lesson, for ever since

their island had been conquered, they had been subjected to the payment

of the most exacting tribute.

Fertile as was Tetuaroa, the continued demands made upon its people

for food by the royal family of Tahiti had frequently reduced them to a

condition bordering upon starvation.

But these requests had, of late years, been so much modified, that the

island, under the rule of Mahua, had become renowned for its wealth of

food and the prosperous condition of its inhabitants.

It was, therefore, with no pleasant feelings that the people viewed

the approaching marriage of the son of their chief to the child of the

grasping Tetoro, a man who would certainly see no abatement made in

the extortions he had succeeded in inducing his vassal Mahua to again

inaugurate.

* * * * *

At midnight, long after the women were asleep, the principal men of the

island met together and talked of the dream described by the slave girl.

So firmly were they convinced that she had been chosen by the gods as

a means of warning them of their impending rate if the marriage took

place, that they firmly resolved to frustrate it, even if it cost every

one of them his life.

But, so that neither Mahua nor his son should suspect their intentions,

they set about to prepare for the great feast ordered by Tetoro; and for

the next week or so the whole population was busily engaged in bringing

together their various presents of food and goods, and conveying them

to the chief's house, where, on the arrival of the fleet of canoes that

would bring the king's daughter from Paré, they would be presented to

her in person by the priests and minor chiefs.

* * * * *

On the afternoon of the tenth day, some men whom Mahua had set to watch

for Tetoro's fleet saw the great mat sails of five war canoes sweeping

across the long line of palms that fringed the southern beach? Then

there was great commotion, and many _pu_{*} were sounded from one end

of the island to the other, bidding the people to assemble at the

landing-place and welcome the bride of the chiefs son.

* The conch shell.

Now, it so happened that Narü, when the cry arose that the canoes were

coming, was sitting alone in a little bush-house near the south point

of the island. He had come there with two or three of his young men

attendants, so that he might be dressed and adorned to meet Tetoro's

daughter. As soon as they had completed their task he had sent them

away, for he intended to remain in the bush-house till his father sent

for him; for such was the custom of the land.

Very gay and handsome he looked, when presently he stood up and looked

out over the lagoon to where the canoes were entering the passage. Round

his waist was a girdle of bright yellow strips of plantain leaves,

mixed with the scarlet leaves of the _ti_ plant; a band of pearl-shell

ornaments encircled his forehead, and his long, black hair, perfumed

with scented oil, was twisted up in a high spiral knob, and ornamented

with scarlet hibiscus flowers. Across one broad shoulder there hung a

small, snowy-white poncho or cape, made of fine tappa cloth, and round

his wrists and ankles were circlets of pearl shell, enclosed in a

netting of black coir cinnet. On each leg there was tattooed, in bright

blue, a coco-nut tree, its roots spreading out at the heel and running

in wavy lines along the instep to the toes, its elastic stalk shooting

upwards till its waving plumes spread gracefully out on the broad,

muscular calf.

Yet, although he was so finely arrayed, Narü was troubled in his mind;

for not once did those who had dressed him speak of Laea, and this the

young man thought was strange, for he would have been pleased to hear

them talk to him of her beauty. In silence had they attended to his

needs, and this hurt him, for they were all dear friends. So at last,

when they rose to leave him, he had said,--

'Why is it that none of ye speak either to me, or to one another? Am I a

corpse that is dressed for the funeral rites?'

Then one of them, named Tanéo, his foster-brother, answered, and bent

his head as he spoke,--

'Oh, Narü, son of Mahua, and mine own brother, hast thou not heard of

the dream of Milli?'

At the name of Milli, the hot blood leapt into the face of the chief's

son; but he answered quickly,--

'Nay, naught have I heard, and how can the dream of a slave girl concern

me on such a day as this?'

'Oh, Narü!' replied Tanéo, ''tis more than a dream; for the god Oro hath

spoken to her, and shown her things that concern thee and all of thy

father's people.' And with that the young men arose and left him without

further speech.

Little did Narü know that scarce a stone's throw away from where he

stood, Milli, with love in her eyes, was watching him from behind a

clump of plantain trees. She, too, was arrayed as if for a dance or

a marriage, and behind her were a number of women, who were crouched

together and spoke only in whispers.

As they stood, the sounds of the drums and flutes and conches came from

the village, and then Narü went forth from the little house, and walked

towards it through the palm grove.

* * * * *

As he stepped proudly along the shaded path he heard his name called in

a low voice, and Milli the Slave stood before him with downcast eyes,

and barred his path.

Now, Narü, bold as he was, feared to meet this girl, and so for some

moments no words came to him, and Milli, looking quickly up, saw that he

had placed his right hand over his eyes. Then she spoke,--

'See, Narü, I do but come to thee to speak some little words; so turn

thy face to me once more; for from this day thou shalt never again see

Milli the Slave.'

But Narü, still keeping his hand to his eyes, turned aside, and leaning

his forehead against the trunk of a palm-tree, kept silence awhile. Then

he said, in a low voice,--

'Oh, Milli, be not too hard! This woman Laea hath bewitched me--and

then--thou art but a slave.'

'Aye,' answered the girl, softly, 'I am but a slave, and this Laea is

very beautiful and the daughter of a great chief. So for that do I come

to say farewell, and to ask thee to drink with me this bowl of orange

juice. 'Tis all I have to offer, for I am poor and have no wedding gift

to give thee; and yet with this mean offering do I for ever give thee

the hot love of my heart--ay, and my life also, if thou should'st need

it.'

And so, to please the girl whom he had once loved, he received from

her hand the drink of orange juice, which she took from a basket she

carried, and yet as he drank he looked away, for he feared to see her

eyes looking into his.

Only one word did he say as he turned away, and that was 'Farewell,' and

Milli answered 'Farewell, Narü;' but when he had gone some distance she

followed him and sobbed softly to herself.

And soon, as Narü walked, his body swayed to and fro and his feet struck

the roots of the trees that grew out through the soil along the path.

Then Milli, running swiftly up, caught him as he fell, and laid his head

upon her knees. His eyes were closed and his skin dead to her touch.

Presently the bushes near by parted, and two women came out, and lifting

Narü between them, they carried the young man to a shady place and laid

him down.

And then Milli wept as she bent her face over that of the man she loved,

but the two older women bade her cease.

Once more the girl looked at Narü, and then, stepping out into the path,

ran swiftly towards the village.

* * * * *

The five canoes were now sailing quickly over the smooth lagoon, with

the streamers from their mat sails floating in the wind, and on the

stages that ran from their sides to the outriggers were grouped parties

of singers and dancers, with painted bodies and faces dyed scarlet with

the juice of the _mati_ berry, who sang and danced, and shouted, and

made a brave show for the people who awaited their coming on the shore.

On the great stage of the first canoe, which was painted black, was

seated Laea, surrounded by her women attendants, who joined in the wild

singing whenever the name of their mistress formed the singers' theme.

Then suddenly, as each steersman let fall from his hand his great

steering paddle, which was secured by a rope to the side, the canoes

ran up into the wind, the huge mat sails were lowered, the stone anchors

dropped overboard, and the music and dancing ceased.

And then a strange thing happened, and Laea, who was of a proud and

haughty disposition, as became her lineage, grew pale with anger; for

suddenly the great crowd of people which had assembled on the beach

seemed to sway to and fro, and then separate and form into two bodies;

and she saw that the women and children had gathered apart from the men

and stood in a compact mass on the brow of the beach, and the men, in

strange, ominous quiet, spear and club in hand, had ranged, without a

sound, in battle array before her escort.

There was silence awhile, and then Tanéo, the foster brother of Narü,

clothed in his armour of cinnet fibre, and grasping a short stabbing

spear in his hand, stepped out of the ranks.

'Get thee back again to Tahiti, O men of Paré,' he said quietly,

striking his spear into the sand. 'This marriage is not to our minds.'

Then Laea, as she looked at the amazed and angered faces of her people

as they heard Tanéo's insulting words, dashed aside her attendants, and

leaping from the canoe into the shallow water, walked to the shore, and

stood face to face with him.

'Who art thou, fellow, to stand before the daughter of Tetoro the King,

with a spear in thy rude hand, and thy mouth filled with saucy words?'

'I am Tanéo, the foster brother of the man thou seekest to marry. And

because that a warning hath come to us against this marriage do I stand

here, spear in hand.'

Laea laughed scornfully.

'_I_ seek thy brother in marriage? Thou fool! Would I, the daughter of

my father, _seek_ any man for husband? Hath not this Narü pestered me so

with his presents and his love-offerings that, for very weariness, and

to please my father, I turned my face from the Englishman who buildeth

ships for him, and said “Aye” to this Narü--who is but a little

man{*}--when he besought me to be wife to him. Ah! the Englishman, who

is both a clever and strong man, is more to my liking.'

* Meaning in rank.

'Get thee back, then, to thy Englishman, and leave to me my lover,'

cried a woman's voice, and Milli the Slave, thrusting aside the armed

men who sought to stay her, sprang out upon the sand, and clenching her

hands tightly, gazed fiercely at the king's daughter.

'_Thy_ lover!' and Laea looked contemptuously at the small, slender

figure of the slave girl, and then her cheek darkened with rage as she

turned to her followers. 'See how this dog of a Narü hath insulted me!

Have I come all this way to be fooled for the sake of such a miserable

creature as this?' and she pointed scornfully to Milli and then spat on

the ground. 'Where is this fellow? Let him come near to me so that I may

tell him to his face that I have ever despised him as one beneath me.

Where is he, I ask thee, girl?' And she seized the slave girl by her

wrist.

The savage fury of her voice, her blazing eyes, and noble, commanding

presence, excited alike both her own people and the clustering throng

of armed men that stood watching on the beach, for these latter, by some

common impulse moved nearer, and at the same time every man in the five

canoes sprang out, and, dashing through the water, ranged themselves

beside their mistress.

'Back!' cried Tanéo, warningly; 'back, ye men of Paré, back, ere it be

too late, and thou, Laea, harm not the girl, for see, O foolish woman!

we here are as ten to one, and 'twill be a bloody day for thee and thy

people if but a spear be raised.'

And then, facing round, he cried, 'And back, O men of Tetuaroa. Why draw

ye so near? Must blood run because of the vain and bitter words of a

silly woman?'

Then, with an angry gesture, Laea released her hold of the slave girl's

slender wrist, and she, too, held up a warning hand to her warriors.

'True, Tanéo,' she said mockingly; 'thy people are as ten to one of

mine, as thou sayest, and for this alone dost thou dare insult me. Oh,

thou coward, Tanéo!'

A swift gleam of anger shone in Tanéo's eyes, and his hand grasped

his spear tightly. Then he looked steadily at the king's daughter, and

answered.

'Nay, no coward am I, Laea. And see, if but a little blood will appease

thee, take this spear and slay me. It is better for one to die than

many.' Stretching out his hand, he gave her his spear.

She waved it back sneeringly.

'Thy words are brave, Tanéo; but only because that behind them lieth no

danger. Only a coward could talk as--'

He sprang back.

'Ho, men of Paré! Listen! So that but one or two men may die, and many

live, let this quarrel lie between me and any one of ye that will battle

with me here, spear to spear, on this beach. Is it not better so than

that Tetoro the King should weep for so many of his people?'

A tall, grey-headed old warrior leapt out from the ranks of those that

stood behind Laea.

'Thou and I, Tanéo, shall fight till one of us be slain.'

Suddenly Milli the Slave sprang between them with outstretched arms.

'Peace, peace! Drop thou thy spear, Tanéo, and thou thine, old man.

There is no need for blood but mine--for Narü is dead.'

Then, kneeling on the sand she said, 'Draw near to me and listen.'

Quickly the opposing parties formed a circle around her; before her

stood the haughty and angry Laea; behind her, and standing side by side,

Tanéo and the grey-haired Tahitian warrior.

'I am Milli, the bond-woman of Mahua, the father of Narü. And Narü loved

me; but because of thee, O Laea, he turned from me, and my heart became

cold. For who would give food to my child when it was born--the child of

a slave whose lover was a chief and who had cast her off? And then there

came a vision to me in the night, and I saw the things of which I have

told ye, O men of Tetuaroa. And I knew that the black cloud of my vision

was sent to warn the people of this land against the marriage, and the

hunger and the bitter days of poverty that would come of it. And so,

because thou art a great woman, O Laea, and I but a poor slave, did I

meet Narü but a little while since and give him to drink; and when he

drank of that which I gave him he died, for it was poisoned.'

A low murmur, half anger, half pity, broke from the assembled people.

'Thou fool!' said Laea, pityingly; and then she turned to Tanéo.

'And so thy brother hath died by the hand of a slave? Let us part in

peace. Farewell!'

And then, as the men of Paré returned in silence to their canoes, Tanéo

and his people closed in upon the kneeling figure of the slave girl, who

bent her head as a man stepped before her with a club.

* * * * *

When the five canoes had sailed away a little distance from the beach,

Laea saw the men of Tetuaroa open out their ranks, and, looking in the

midst, she saw, lying face downwards on the sand, the body of Milli the

Slave.

DENISON GETS A BERTH ASHORE

After many years as supercargo, 'blackbirder' {*} and trader in the South

Seas, Tom Denison one day found himself in Sydney with less than ten

shillings in his pocket, and with a strong fraternal yearning to visit

his brother, who was a bank manager in North Queensland and a very

good-natured man. So he sent a telegram, 'Tired of the sea. Can you

find me a billet ashore?' An answer soon came, 'Yes, if you can

manage poultry farm and keep books. If so, will wire passage money and

expenses.'

* A 'backbirder' is the term applied to any person engaged

in the Polynesian labour traffic.

Denison pondered over the situation. He had seen a lot of poultry in

his time--in coops on board the _Indiana_ and the _Palestine_; and one

Captain 'Bully' Hayes, with whom he had once sailed as supercargo, had

told him a lot of things about game fowls, to which birds the genial

'Bully' had a great leaning--but was not sure that he was good at books.

In fact, the owners of the _Palestine_ had said that his system of

book-keeping had driven the senior partner to drink, and they always

sent a 'Manual of Book-keeping' on board every time the ship sailed from

Sydney. At the same time Denison was touched by the allusion to passage

money and expenses, and felt that making entries about the birth of

clutches of chickens and ducklings, and the number of eggs sold,

would be simple enough--much easier than the heartbreaking work of a

supercargo, when such customers as Flash Harry of Apia or Fiji Bill of

Apamama would challenge the correctness of their grog bills, and offer

to fight him instead of paying. And then, he thought, it would be simply

delightful to sit in a room in a quiet farmhouse and hear the gentle

moaning of calves and the cheerful cackle of exultant hens, as he wrote

items in a book about eggs and things, and drink buttermilk, instead

of toiling in the ill-smelling trade-room on board the _Palestine_,

bottling off Queensland rum and opening tierces of negrohead tobacco,

while the brig was either standing on her head or rolling her soul out,

and Packenham the skipper was using shocking language to everyone on

deck.

So he sent a 'collect' telegram to his brother, and stated that he

thoroughly understood all branches of poultry and book-keeping.

On the voyage up to Cooktown he kept to himself, and studied 'Pip and

Its Remedy,' 'Warts and the Sulphur Cure,' 'Milligan on Roup in Ducks,'

and other valuable works; so that when the steamer reached the port and

he met his brother, the latter was deeply impressed with the profound

knowledge he displayed of the various kinds of poultry diseases, and

said he felt sure that Denison would 'make the thing pay.' The poultry

farm, he said, belonged to the bank, which had advanced money to the

former proprietor, who had most unjustifiably died in _delirium tremens_

at Cooktown Hospital a few months ago, leaving the farm to the care of

some aboriginals, and his estate much in debt to the good, kind bank.

On the following evening Denison was driven out to the place by his

brother, who took advantage of the occasion to point out to the youth

the beauties of a country life, away from the temptations of cities.

Also he remarked upon the folly of a young man spending the bloom of his

years among the dissolute natives of the South Seas; and then casually

inquired if the women down there were pretty. Then the younger Denison

began to talk, and the elder brother immediately pulled up the horse

from a smart trot into a slow walk, saying there was no need to rush

along on such a hot night, and that he liked to hear about the customs

of foreign countries. About ten o'clock they reached their destination,

and the elder brother, without getting out of the trap and entering the

house, hurriedly bade Tom good-bye and drove off as quickly as possible,

fearing that if he stayed till the morning, and the youth saw the place

by daylight, the latter would become a fratricide.

The occupants of the farm were, the new manager found, three black

fellows and two 'gins,' {*} all of whom were in a state of stark nudity;

but they welcomed him with smiles and an overpowering smell of ants, the

which latter is peculiar to the Australian nigger. One of the bucks, who

when Denison entered was sleeping, with three exceedingly mangy dogs, in

the ex-proprietor's bunk--a gorgeous affair made of a badly-smelling

new green hide stretched between four posts, at once got up and gave him

possession of the couch; and Denison, being very tired, spread his rug

over the hide and turned in, determined not to grumble, and make the

thing pay, and then buy a place in the Marquesas or Samoa in a few

years, and die in comfort. During the night the mosquitoes worried him

incessantly, until one of the coloured ladies, who slept on the ground

in the next room, hearing his petulant exclamations, brought him a dirty

piece of rag, soaked in kerosene, and told him to anoint his hair, face

and hands with it. He did so, and then fell asleep comfortably.

* 'Gin,' or 'lubra'--the female Australian aboriginal.

Early in the morning he rose and inspected the place (which I forgot

to say was twenty miles from Cooktown, and on the bank of the Endeavour

River). He found it to consist of two rusty old corrugated iron

buildings, vaguely surrounded by an enormous amount of primaeval

desolation and immediately encompassed by several hundred dead cattle

(in an advanced state of putrefaction) picturesquely disposed about the

outskirts of the premises. But Denison, being by nature a cheerful man,

remembered that his brother (who was pious) had alluded to a drought,

and said that rain was expected every day, as the newly-appointed Bishop

of North Queensland had appointed a day of general humiliation and

prayer, and that poultry-rearing was bound to pay.

The stock of poultry was then rounded up by the black-fellows for his

inspection--thirty-seven dissolute-looking ducks, ninety-three degraded

and anaemic female fowls, thirteen spirit-broken roosters, and eleven

apathetic geese. Denison caught one of the ducks, which immediately

endeavoured to swallow his fore-finger, under the impression it was food

of some sort.

'Jacky,' he said to the leading coloured gentleman, 'my brother told me

that there were five hundred ducks here. Where are they?'

Jacky said that the ducks _would_ go on the river and that 'plenty

feller big alligator eat 'em up.'

'Then where are the seven hundred and fifty laying hens?'

Jacky scratched his woolly head and grinned. 'Goanner' eat some, snake

eat some, some die, some run away in bush, hawk eat some. By ------,

this feller duck and fowl altogether dam fool.' »

During the following week Denison found that Jacky had not deviated from

the truth--the alligators did eat the ducks, the tiger and carpet-snakes

and iguanas did crawl about the place at night-time and seize any

luckless fowl not strong enough to fly up to roost in the branch of a

tree, the hawks did prefer live poultry to long-deceased bullock, and

those hens physically capable of laying eggs laid them on an ironstone

ridge about a mile away from the house. He went there one day, found

nine eggs, and saw five death adders and a large and placid carpet

snake. Then he wrote to his brother, and said that he thought the place

would pay when the drought broke up, but he did not feel justified in

taking £3, 10s. a week from the bank under the present circumstances,

and would like to resign his berth, as he was afraid he was about to get

an attack of fever.

A few days later he received an official letter from the bank, signed

'C. Aubrey Denison, Manager,' expressing surprise at his desire to

give up the control of a concern that was 'bound to pay,' and for

the management of which the bank had rejected twenty-three other

applications in his favour, and suggesting that, as the poultry were

not thriving, he might skin the carcases of such cattle as died in the

future, and send the hides to Cooktown--'for every hide the bank

will allow you 2s. 6d. nett.' With the official letter was a private

communication from the Elder Brother telling him not to be disheartened

so quickly--the place was sure to pay as soon as the drought broke up;

also that as the river water was bad, and tea made from it was not

good for anyone with fever, he was sending up a dozen of whisky by

the mailman next week. Again Denison was touched by his brother's

thoughtfulness, and decided to remain for another week at least. But

at night-time he thought a good deal about the dear old _Palestine_ and

Harvey Packenham, her skipper.

While awaiting with considerable anxiety the arrival of the mailman,

Denison passed the time in killing tiger-snakes, cremating the dead

cattle around the place, bathing in the only pool in the river safe from

alligators, and meditating upon the advantages of a berth ashore. But

when the mailman arrived (four days late) with only five bottles of

whisky, and said in a small, husky voice that the pack-horse had fallen

and broken seven bottles, he felt a soured and disappointed man, and

knew that he was only fit for the sea. The mailman, to whom he expressed

these sentiments, told him to cheer up. It was loneliness, he said, that

made him feel like that, and he for _his_ part 'didn't like to see no

man feelin' lonely in the bloomin' bush.' Therefore he would keep him

company for a few days, and let the sanguinary mail go to Hades.

He did keep him company. And then, when the whisky was finished, he bade

Denison good-bye, and said that any man who would send 'his own bloomin'

brother to perish in such a place was not fit to live himself, and ought

to be flamin' well shown up in the bloomin' noospapers.' At daybreak

next morning Denison told the coloured ladies and gentlemen to eat the

remaining poultry; and, shouldering his swag, tramped it into Cooktown

to 'look for a ship.'

ADDIE RANSOM: A MEMORY OF THE TOKELAUS

A hot, steamy mist rose from the gleaming, oily sea, and the little

island lay sweltering and gasping under a sky of brass and a savagely

blazing sun. Along the edges of the curving lines of yellow beach

the drought-smitten plumes of the fast-withering coco-palms drooped

straight, brown and motionless; and Wallis, the trader at Avamua

village, as he paced to and fro upon the heated boards of his verandah,

cursed the island and the people, and the deadly calm, and the brassy

sky, and the firm of Tom de Wolf & Sons (whom he blamed for the

weather), and the drought, and the sickness, and the overdue ship, and

himself, and everything else; and he wished that Lita would go away for

a month--her patience and calmness worried and irritated him. Then

he might perhaps try getting drunk on Sundays like Ransom; to-day was

Sunday, and another Sunday meant another hell of twelve hours' heat, and

misery, and hope deferred.

'Curse that damned bell! There it goes again, though half of the people

are dead, and the other half are dying like rotten sheep! Oh, for a

ship, or rain, or a howling gale--anything but this!'

He dashed his pipe furiously upon the verandah, and then flung himself

into a cane lounge, pressed his hands to his ears, and swore silently at

the jarring clamour of the hated church bell.

Lita's brown hand touched him on the shoulder.

'Wassa th' matter, Tom, wis you?'

'Oh, go away, for God's sake, Lita, there's a good girl. Leave me alone.

Go to church, and tell Ioane I'll give him a couple of dollars not to

ring that damned, infernal bell again to-day. I'm going mad! I'll get

drunk, I think, like Ransom. My God! just think of it, girl! Twelve

months without a ship, and this hateful, God-forsaken island turning

into a pest-house.'

'Wasa is pesta-house, Tom?'

'Place where they put people in to die--lazzaretto, charnel-house,

morgue, living grave! Oh, go away, girl, go to the blarsted church if

you want to, and leave me alone.'

Her slender fingers touched his hand timidly.

'I don' wan' go to church, Tom. I don' wan' leave you here to get mad

an' lon'ly by yourse'f.'

'Very well, old woman, stay here with me. Perhaps a breeze may come

by-and-by and then we can breathe. How many people died yesterday,

Lita?'

''Bout nine, Tom--four men, tree woman, an' some child.'

'Poor devils! I wish I had some medicine for them. But I'm hanged if

I know what it is--some sort of cholera brought here by that infernal

American missionary brig, I believe. Hallo! there's Ioane beginning.'

* * * * *

The white-walled native church was not a stone's throw away, and through

the wide, paneless windows and open doors the deep voice of Ioane, the

Samoan native teacher, sounded clearly and solemnly in the still, heated

morn. Wallis, with his wide straw hat covering his bronzed face, lay

back in the lounge, and, at first, took no heed. Lita, sitting at his

feet, rested her chin on one hand and listened intently.

'Turn ye all, men and women of this afflicted land of Nukutavau, to the

Word of God, which is written in the Book of Isaiah, in the fortieth

chapter and the sixth verse. It was to my mind that we should first

sing to the praise of Jehovah; but, alas! we cannot sing to-day; for my

cheeks are wetted with many tears, and my belly is bursting with sorrow

when I see how few there are of us who are left. But yet can we pray

together; and the whisper of affliction shall as surely reach the ear of

God as the loud, glad song of praise. But first hear ye these words:--

'“The Voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? And the Voice

answered. All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the

flower of the field: the grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the

spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: Surely the people is grass.”'

Wallis sat up and listened; for as the preacher ceased he heard the

sound of many sobs; and presently a woman, old, gaunt and feeble,

staggered out from the church and flung herself face downwards upon the

burning sand.

'_A mate, a mate tatou_,' she moaned, 'e agi mai le manava Ieova.' ['We

perish, we perish with the breath of Jehovah.')

She lay there unheeded; for now the preacher, with broken voice, was

passionately imploring his congregation to cast themselves upon the

mercy of God, and beseech Him to stay the deadly pestilence which had so

sorely smitten the land.

'And spare Thou, O God Most High, Most Merciful, and Most Just, these

many little children who yet live, for they are but very small, and have

not yet sinned before Thee. Three of mine own hast thou touched with

Thy hand, and taken to Thee, and my belly and the belly of my wife are

empty, and yearn in the night for the voices we shall hear no more. And

for those three whom Thou hast taken, spare Thou three of those who yet

live. And shield, O God, with Thy care, the _papalagi_{*} Ranisome and

his child, the girl Ati' (Addie), 'for she loveth Thy word; and turn

Thou the heart of her father from the drinking of grog, so that he

shall be no more as a hog that is _loia_.'{**} 'And shield, too,

the _papalagi_ Walesi and the woman Lita--she who liveth with him in

sin--for their hearts are ever good and their hands ever open to us of

Nukutavau; and send, O most merciful and compassionate One, a ship, so

that the two white men and the woman Lita, and the girl Ati, and we,

Thy people, may not die of hunger and thirst and sickness, but live to

praise Thy holy name.'

* Foreigner.

** A man or an animal is _loia_ when he or it has eaten or

drunk to such repletion as to lie down and be overrun with

ants--an expressive Samoan synonym for excess.

A burst of weeping, and _Amene! Amene!_ came from his hearers, then

silence; and Wallis, taking his hat from his face, bent his head.

Presently the scanty congregation came slowly forth. Some, as they

passed the white man and Lita, tried to smile a greeting to them, though

every brown face was wet with tears. Last of all came Ioane, the Samoan

teacher, short, square-built, with deep sunken earnest eyes bent to

the ground, his right arm supporting his wife, whose slender frame was

shaken with the violence of her grief for those three of her heart

whom 'He had taken.' Wallis, followed by Lita, stepped down from his

verandah, and held out his hand. The teacher pressed it in silence, and,

unable now to speak, walked slowly on. Lita, her dark, oval face still

hot with anger, drew back and made no sign, though Eliné, the teacher's

wife, murmured as she passed,--'Nay, be not angry, Lita; for death is

near to us all.'

* * * * *

As they returned to the house, Ransom, the old trader from Avatulalo,

the next village to that in which Wallis lived, met them at the gate.

He was a man of sixty or thereabout--grey, dirty, dishevelled and half

drunk.

'I want you and Lita to come back with me,' he said slowly, holding to

the palings of the fence, and moving his head from side to side; 'you

must come... 'you must come, or'--with sudden frenzy--'by God, I'll put

a firestick into your house; I will, by blazes, I will! Curse you, Tom

Wallis, and your damned, Sydney-white-duck-suit-respectability, and your

damned proud quarter-caste Portugee woman, who you ain't married to, as

I was to mine--bad as she was. Put up your hands you--'

Wallis gripped him firmly but kindly by the wrists, and forced him into

a seat.

'What's the matter with you, Ransom? Only drunk and fightable as usual?

or are you being chased by pink snakes with tiger's heads again, eh?

There, sit quiet, old man. Where is Addie?'

For a few moments the old man made no answer; then he rose, and placing

his trembling hands on Wallis's chest said brokenly,--

'God help me, Tom! She's a-dyin'... an' I'm near drunk. She was took bad

this mornin', an' has been callin' for the teacher an' Lita-- an' I'd

as lief go to hell as to ask a damned Kanaka mission'ry to come an' talk

Gospel an' Heaven to a child o' mine--not in my own house, anyway. It

ain't right or proper. But she kep' on a-pesterin' me, an' at last I

said I would come an' arst him... an' while I was waitin' outside the

church I hears the damned feller a-prayin' and sayin' “_All flesh

is grass, and the grass withereth_“'--his voice quivered and broke

again--'an' onct I heard my old mother say them very words when she was

a-dyin', more'n forty year ago, in the old country. An' Addie's dyin'

fast, Tom; dyin', an' I can't say a prayer with her; I don't know none.

I'm only a drunken old shellback, an' I ought to be struck dead for my

bloody sins. She's all I has in the world to love; an' now, an' now--'

He turned away and, covering his face with his coarse, sunburnt hands,

sobbed like a child.

* * * * *

Half an hour later Wallis and Lita were in the room with the dying girl.

Ransom, shambling behind them, crept in and knelt at the foot of the

bed. Two native women, who were squatted on the matted floor went

out softly, and Wallis bent over the girl and looked into her pallid,

twitching face, over which the dread grey shadow was creeping fast. She

put out her hand to the trader and Lita, and a faint smile moved her

lips.

'You is good to come, Tom Wallis,' she said, in her childish voice, 'an'

so is you, Lita. Wher' is my fath'? I don' see him. I was ask him to

bring Ioane here to pray fo' me. I _can't_ pray myself.... I _have_ been

try.... Wher' is you, fath'?'

Ransom crept round to her side, and laid his face upon her open hand.

'Ah, fath', you is come... poor fath'. I say, fath', _don_ you drink no

more. You been promise me that, fath', so many time. _Don'_ you break

yo' promise now, will you?'

The grizzled old sinner put his trembling lips to hers. 'Never no more,

Addie--may God strike me dead if I lie!'

'Come away, old man,' said Wallis, softly, 'let Lita be with her.

Neither you nor I should disturb her just now. See, she wants Lita. But

her time is near, and you must keep close to her.'

They drew apart, and Lita knelt beside the bed.

* * * * *

'An' did he pray for fath', an' me, an' you, an' Tom, an' my mother who

runned away? Tell me all 'bout it, Lita. I _did_ wan' him to come and

tell me some things I wan' to know before I is dead. Tell me what he

say.'

'He say dat vers', “De grass with', de flow' fade, but de word of de

Lor' God endure fo' ev.'”'

'Was do it mean, Lita, dear?'

'I don' 'xactly know, Ati, dear. But Tom say he mean dat by-an'-by, if

we is good an' don' lie an' steal, an' don' kill nobody, dat we all go

to heav' when we is die.'

'Lita, dear, Ioane say one day dat de Bible say my fath' go to hell

because he get drunk all de time.'

'Don' you b'lieve him, Ati; Ioane is only dam Kanaka mission'ry. Wassa

the hell do _he_ know 'bout such thing? _You_ go to heav' sure 'nuff,

and you' fath' come to you there by-an'-by. He never been steal or lie;

he on'y get drunk. Don' you be 'fraid 'bout dat, Ati, dear. An' you will

see yo' mother, too. Oh, yes, yo' will see yo' mother; an' yo' fath' will

come there too, all nice, an' clean, an' sober, in new pyjamas all shinin'

white; an' he will kiss yo' mother on her mouf, an' say, “I forgive you,

Nellie Ransom, jes' as Jesu Christ has forgive me.”'

The girl sighed heavily, and then lay with closed eyes, breathing

softly. Suddenly she turned quickly on her side, and extended her arms,

and her voice sounded strangely clear and distinct.

'Where is you, fath'? Quick, quick, come an' hol' me. It is dark....

Hol' me tight... clos' up, clos' up, fath', my fath'... it is so

dark--so dark.'

* * * * *

The natives told Wallis next morning that 'Ranisome' had gone quite mad.

'How know ye he is mad?'

'_Tah!_ He hath taken every bottle of grog from two boxes and smashed

them on the ground. And then we saw him kneel upon the sand, raise his

hands, and weep. He is mad.'

IN A NATIVE VILLAGE

When I first settled down on this particular island as a trader, I had,

in my boundless ignorance of the fierce jealousy that prevailed between

the various villages thereon, been foolish enough to engage two or three

servants from outlying districts--much against the wishes of the local

_kaupule_ (town councillors), each of whom brought me two or three

candidates (relatives, connections or spongers of their own) and urged

that I should engage them and no others. This I refused to do, point

blank, and after much angry discussion and argument, I succeeded in

having my own way, and was allowed to choose my servants from villages

widely apart. In the course of a few weeks some terrific encounters had

taken place between my women servants and other of the local females,

who regarded them as vile usurpers of their right to rob and plunder the

new white man. However, in time matters settled down in a measure;

and beyond vituperative language and sanguinary threats against the

successful applicants, the rejected candidates, male and female, behaved

very nicely. But I was slumbering on a latent volcano of fresh troubles,

and the premonitory upheaval came about a month after our head nurse,

Hakala, had been fined five dollars for using English Seafaring'

language to another woman who had called her a pig. As Hakala could not

pay the fine--being already in debt to me for two months' wages paid in

advance--I settled it; for she was a widow, and had endeared herself

to me by the vigorous manner in which she had pitched a large, fat girl

named 'Heké out of the house for stealing some sugar from my store-room.

The members of the _kaupule_ (the village parliament) were pleased to

accept the money, but wrote me a formal letter on the following morning,

and remarked that it was wrong of me to encourage brutal conduct in any

of my servants--wrong and un-Christian-like as well. 'But,' the letter

went on to say, 'it is honest of you to pay this woman's fine; and

Talamaheke' (the sugar-thief) 'has been sentenced to do three days'

road-making for stealing the sugar. Yet you must not think evil of

Talamaheke, for she is a little _vale_ (mad), and has a class in the

Sunday-school. Now it is in our minds that, as you are an honest man,

you will pay the fines owing on the horse.' I had a vague recollection

of my predecessor telling me something indefinite about a horse

belonging to the station, but could not remember whether he said that

the animal was in the vicinity of the station or was rambling elsewhere

on the island, or had died. So I called my Samoan cook, Harry, to learn

what he knew about the matter. Harry was the Adonis of the village, and

already the under-nurse, E'eu, a sweet little hazel-eyed creature of

fifteen, and incorrigibly wicked, had succumbed to his charms, and spent

much of her time in the kitchen. At that moment Harry was seated outside

the cook-house, dressed in a suit of spotless white duck, playing an

accordeon; also he wore round his brown neck a thick wreath of white

and scarlet flowers. Harry, I may remark, was a dandy and a notorious

profligate, but against these natural faults was the fact that he could

make very good bread.

'Harry,' I said, 'do you know anything about this horse?' and I tapped

the official letter.

He smiled. 'Oh, yes, sir. I know all 'bout him. He been fined altogether

'bout two hundred and fifty dollar, an' never pay.'

'What do you mean? How can anyone fine a horse?'

Then Harry explained and gave me the horse's history.

The animal had been brought from New Zealand for some occult reason, and

had behaved himself very badly ever since he landed. Young banana trees

were his especial fancy, cotton plants he devoured wholesale, and it

was generally asserted that he was also addicted to kicking chickens. My

three predecessors on the station had each repudiated the creature, and

each man when he left the island had said that his successor would pay

for all damage done.

'Where is the brute now?' I asked.

Looking cautiously around to see that no one was within earshot, Harry

informed me that until a week previously the _nuâ_ had been running

quietly in the interior of the island for many months, but since my

arrival had been brought back by two of the deacons and was now feeding

about the immediate vicinity.

'Why did the deacons bring him back, if he destroys banana trees and

kill chickens?'

Harry looked very uncomfortable and seemed disinclined to speak, but

at last let the cat out of the bag and revealed a diabolical

conspiracy--the horse had been brought back for my undoing, or rather

for the undoing of the strings of my bag of dollars.

'You see, sir,' said he, confidentially, 'these people on this island

very clever--all dam rogue' (his mother was a native of the island),

'an' 'bout a month ago, when you give two dollar to help build new

church, the _fakafili_ and _kaupule_{*} (judge and councillors) 'say you

is a very good man and that you might pay that horse's fines. An' if you

pay that horse's fines then the people will have enough money to send to

Sydney to buy glass windows and nice, fine doors for the new church. An'

so that is why the deacons have bring that horse back.'

'But what good will bringing the horse here do? That won't make me pay

his fines.'

'Oh, you see, sir, since the horse been come back the people take him

out every day into some banana plantation and let him eat some trees.

Then, by-and-by--to-morrer, perhaps--they will come an' ask you to go

and look. Then you will look an' say, “Alright, I will pay five dollar.”

An' then when you pay that five dollar the _kaupule_ and the judge will

say, “Now you mus' pay for all the bad things that that horse do before

you come here.” An' s'pose you won' pay, then I b'lieve the judge an'

headmen goin' to _tapu_{*} your store. You see they wan' that money for

church very bad, because they very jealous of Halamua church.'

* Tapu, in this sense, means boycotting.

'Jealous of Halamua church! Why?'

'Oh, because Halamua people been buy a foolpit for their church--a very

fine foolpit from California; an' now this town here very jealous, and

the people say that when you pay that horse's fine they will buy pine

windows, pine doors, and pine floor, _and give Halamua church hell?_

The novel (but in some cases exceedingly correct) pronunciation

of pulpit pleased me, yet my wrath was aroused at this scandalous

revelation of the plans of the villagers to beautify their church at my

expense. It was as bad as any church bazaar in Christendom.

As Harry surmised, I received a visit from a deputation the next

morning. They wanted me to come and see the destruction done to their

plantations by _my_ horse.

'But it's not my horse,' I said. 'I decline to hear anything about a

horse. There is no horse down in my stock list, nor an elephant.'

A dirty old ruffian with one eye and a tattooed face regarded me gravely

for a moment, and then asked me in a wheezy, husky voice if I knew that

Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead for telling lies.

'Of course,' I replied promptly, 'I saw them struck. My uncle in England

had them buried in his garden to improve the soil. And why do you come

here and tell me these things about a horse? If there _is_ a horse, and

it eats your bananas and sugar-cane, why don't you shoot it?'

This suggestion staggered the deputation, half of which scratched its

head meditatively. Then a tall, thin man, with an attenuated face like a

starved fowl, said sneeringly in English,--

'What for you want to make gammon you no savee about horse?'

His companions smiled approvingly; not that they understood a word of

English, but they evidently regarded the fowl-like creature as a learned

person who would give me a dressing down in my own language.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression, and then said to Harry,--

'What does this man say, Harry? I can't talk German. Can you?'

Harry grinned and shook his head; the rest of the deputation looked

angrily at the hatchet-faced man, and the member seated next to him told

him he ought to be ashamed of himself to pretend to be able to _vogahau

faka Beretania_ (talk English).

For some minutes no one spoke. Then the youngest member of the

deputation, a jolly, fat-faced young deacon, dressed in a suit of white

flannel, laughed merrily, and asked me for some tobacco. I gave them a

plug each all round, and the deputation withdrew. So having successfully

repudiated the horse and all his works, I felt satisfied.

* * * * *

Pigs were the next trouble--my own pigs and the pigs of the general

public. When I landed on the island I had brought with me from Sydney

a lady and gentleman pig of exceedingly high lineage. They were now

the proud and happy parents of seven beautiful little black-and-white

piglets, and at any hour of the day one might see numbers of natives

looking over my wall at the graceful little creatures as they chased one

another over the grass, charged at nothing, and came to a dead stop with

astonishing rapidity and a look of intense amazement. One fatal day I

let them out, thinking they would come to no harm, as their parents were

with them. As they did not return at dusk I sent E'eu, the under-nurse,

to search for them. She came back and told me in a whisper that the

father and mother pig were rooting up a sweet-potato patch belonging

to the local chief. The piglets she had failed to discover. Enjoining

secrecy, I sent E'eu and Harry to chase the parents home. This was

effected after considerable trouble, but the owner of the potato patch

claimed two dollars damages. I paid it, feeling his claim was just. Next

morning the seven piglets were returned one by one by various native

children. Each piglet had, according to their accounts, been in a

separate garden, and done considerable damage; and 'because they' (the

piglets) 'were the property of a good and just man, the owners of the

gardens would not hurt nor even chase them,' etc. Glad to recover

the squealing little wanderers at any cost, I gave each lying child a

quarter-dollar. Next day I had a piece of ground walled in with lumps

of coral and placed the porcine family inside. Then I wrote to the

councillors, asking them to notify the people that if any of the village

pigs came inside my fence and rooted abyssmal holes in my ground, as had

been their habit hitherto, I should demand compensation. His Honour the

Chief Justice stated in court that this was only fair and right; the

white man had paid for the damage done by _his_ pigs, and therefore he

was entitled to claim damages if the village pigs caused him trouble.

(I had previously squared his Honour with the promise of a male sucker.)

One day the seven young pigs escaped from their mother and went out for

a run on the village green. They were at once assailed as detestable

foreign devils by about two hundred and forty-three gaunt, razorbacked

village sows, and were only rescued from a cruel death after every one

had lost its tail. Why is it that pigs of different breeds always bite

off each other's tails? I claimed fifty cents per tail, and was awarded

$3.50 damages, to be paid by the community generally. The community

refused to pay. His Honour then notified by the town crier that I was

at liberty to shoot any pig that broke into the station grounds. I put

a cartridge into a Snider rifle and told my servants to call me if they

heard a grunt in the night.

Three days after this, as I was discussing theology and baked fowl one

night with the local teacher in his own house, a boy burst in and said

that there was a strange pig in my garden devouring my crop of French

beans. In two minutes I was back in my house, snatched up the Snider,

and ran to the garden wall. There was the brute, a great black-and

white beast, the biggest native pig I ever saw. His back was turned, but

hearing my steps he 'went about' and faced me. 'Twas a bright moonlight

night, and the bullet plugged him fair between the eyes. Over he rolled

without a kick. Then I heard a shriek or laughter, and saw half a dozen

girls scuttling away among the coco-palms. A horrible suspicion nearly

made me faint. Jumping over the wall I examined the defunct, and could

scarce forbear to shed a tear.

'Twas mine own prized black Australian boar, daubed over with splashes

of coral lime whitewash. And the whitewash came from a tub full of it,

with which the natives had that morning been whitening the walls of the

newly-built village church. The one-eyed old scoundrel of a deacon told

me next day it was a judgment on me.

MAURICE KINANE

Eastward, from the coast of New Guinea, there lies a large island

called, on the maps, New Britain, the native name of which is Berara. It

is nearly three hundred miles in length and, in parts, almost sixty in

width, and excepting the north-eastern portion, now settled by

German colonists, is inhabited by a race of dangerous and treacherous

cannibals, who are continually at war among themselves, for there are

many hundred tribes living on the coast as well as in the interior.

Although there have been white people living on the north-east coast

for over thirty years--for there were adventurous American and English

traders living in this wild island long before the natives ever saw a

German--not one of them knew then, or knows now, much of the strange

black tribes who dwell in the interior of the centre and western part of

the island, save that they were then, as they are in this present year,

always at enmity with the coast tribes, and are, like them, more or less

addicted to cannibalism.

Sixty miles from the western end of the island is the mountainous land

of German New Guinea; and sometimes, when the air is clear and the

south-east trade wind blows, the savages on Berara can see across the

deep, wide strait the grey loom of the great range that fringes the

north-eastern coast of New Guinea for many hundred miles. Once, indeed,

when the writer of this true story lived in New Britain, he saw this

sight for a whole week, for there, in those beautiful islands, the air

is very clear at certain seasons of the year.

From Matupi, where the principal settlement in New Britain is situated,

to the deep bay at Kabaira, fifty miles away, the coast is very

beautiful. And, indeed, no one who looks at the lovely grassy downs that

here and there show through the groves of waving palm trees stretching

from the beach away up to the rising land of the interior could think

that such a fair country was the home of a deadly fever; and that in

the waters of the bright limpid streams that ran gently down from the

forest-clad hills to meet the blue waters of the Pacific there lurked

disease and death to him who drank thereof.