{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24896/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24896","id":"gutenberg_24896","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24896","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Oceania -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE EBBING OF THE TIDE\n\nSOUTH SEA STORIES\n\n1896\n\nBy Louis Becke\n\n\n\n\n\u201cLULIBAN OF THE POOL\u201d\n\nA boy and a girl sat by the rocky margin of a deep mountain pool in\nPonape in the North Pacific. The girl was weaving a basket from the\nleaves of a cocoa-nut. As she wove she sang the \u201cSong of Luliban,\u201d and\nthe boy listened intently.\n\n\u201c'Tis a fine song that thou singest, Niya,\u201d said the boy, who came from\nMetalanien and was a stranger; \u201cand who was Luliban, and Red-Hair the\nWhite Man?\u201d\n\n\u201c_O Guk!_\u201d said Niya, wonderingly, \u201chast never heard in Metalanien of\nLuliban, she who dived with one husband and came up with another--in\nthis very pool?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat new lie is this thou tellest to the boy because he is a stranger?\u201d\n said a White Man, who lay resting in the thick grass waiting for the\nbasket to be finished, for the three were going further up the mountain\nstream to catch crayfish.\n\n\u201cLie?\u201d said the child; \u201cnay, 'tis no lie. Is not this the Pool of\nLuliban, and do not we sing the 'Song of Luliban,' and was not Red-Hair\nthe White Man--he that lived in Jakoits and built the big sailing boat\nfor Nanakin, the father of Nanakin, my father, the chief of Jakoits?\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, Niya, true,\u201d said the White Man, \u201cI did but jest; but tell thou\nthe tale to Sru, so that he may carry it home with him to Metalanien.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThen Niya, daughter of Nanakin, told Sru, the boy from Metalanien,\nthe tale of Luliban of the Pool, and her husband the White Man called\n\u201cRed-Hair,\u201d and her lover, the tattooed beachcomber, called \u201cHarry from\nYap.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cIt was in the days before the fighting-ship went into Kiti Harbour and\nburnt the seven whaleships as they lay at anchor{*} that Red-Hair the\nWhite Man lived at Jakoits. He was a very strong man, and because that\nhe was cunning and clever at fishing and killing the wild boar and\ncarpentry, his house was full of riches, for Nanakin's heart was towards\nhim always.\u201d\n\n     * The Shenandoah, in 1866.\n\n\u201cWas it he who killed the three white men at Roan Kiti?\u201d asked the White\nMan.\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d answered Niya, \u201che it was. They came in a little ship, and\nbecause of bitter words over the price of some tortoise-shell he and the\nmen of Nanakin slew them. And Red-Hair burnt the ship and sank her. And\nfor this was Nanakin's heart bigger than ever to Red-Hair, for out of\nthe ship, before he burnt her, he took many riches--knives, guns\nand powder, and beads and pieces of silk; and half of all he gave to\nNanakin.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Huh!_\u201d said Sru, the boy. \u201cHe was a fine man!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Harry from Yap and Red-Hair hated one another because of Luliban,\nwhom Nanakin had given to Red-Hair for wife. This man, Harry, lived at\nNgatik, the island off the coast, where the turtles breed, and whenever\nhe came to Jakoits he would go to Red-Hair's house and drink grog with,\nhim so that they would both lie on the mats drunk together. Sometimes\nthe name of Luliban would come between them, and then they would fight\nand try to kill each other, but Nanakin's men would always watch and\npart them in time. And all this was because that Luliban had loved\nHarry from Yap before she became wife to Red-Hair. The men favoured the\nhusband of Luliban because of Nanakin's friendship to him, and the women\nliked best Harry from Yap because of his gay songs and his dances, which\nhe had learnt from the people of Yap and Ruk and Hogelu, in the far\nwest; but most of all for his handsome figure and his tattooed skin.\n\n\u201cOne day it came about that his grog was all gone, and his spirit was\nvexed, and Red-Hair beat Luliban, and she planned his death from that\nday. But Nanakin dissuaded her and said, 'It cannot be done; he is too\ngreat a man for me to kill. Be wise and forget his blows.'\n\n\u201cThen Luliban sent a messenger to Ngatik to Harry. He came and brought\nwith him many square bottles of grog, and went in to Red-Hair's house,\nand they drank and quarrelled as they ever did; but because of what lay\nin his mind Harry got not drunk, for his eyes were always fixed on the\nface of Luliban.\n\n\u201cAt last, when Red-Hair was fallen down on the mats, Luliban whispered\nto Harry, and he rose and lay down on a couch that was placed against\nthe cane sides of the house. When all were asleep, Luliban stole outside\nand placed her face against the side of the house and called to Harry,\nwho feigned to sleep. And then he and she talked for a long time. Then\nthe white man got up and went to Nanakin, the chief, and talked long\nwith him also.\n\n\u201cSaid Nanakin the chief, 'O White Man, thou art full of cunning, and my\nheart is with thee. Yet what will it profit me if Red-Hair dies?'\n\n\u201c'All that is now his shall be thine,' said Harry.\n\n\u201c'And what shall I give thee?' said Nanakin.\n\n\u201c'Only Luliban,'\u201d said the White Man with the tattooed body.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cOn the morrow, as the day touched the night, the people of Jakoits\ndanced in front of Nanakin's house, and Harry, with flowers in his hair\nand his body oiled and stained with turmeric, danced also. Now among\nthose who watched him was Luliban, and presently her husband sought her\nand drove her away, saying; 'Get thee to my house, little beast. What\ndost thou here watching this fool dance!'\n\n\u201cHarry but laughed and danced the more, and then Red-Hair gave him foul\nwords. When the dance was ended, Harry went up to Red-Hair and said,\n'Get thee home also, thou cutter of sleeping men's throats. I am a\nbetter man than thee. There is nothing that thou hast done that I cannot\ndo.'\n\n\u201cThen Nanakin, whose mouth was ready with words put therein by Luliban,\nsaid, 'Nay, Harry, thou dost but boast. Thou canst not walk under the\nwater in the Deep Pool with a heavy stone on thy shoulder--as Red-Hair\nhas done.'\n\n\u201c'Bah!' said Harry. 'What he can do, that I can do.'\n\n\u201cNow, for a man to go in at one end of this pool here\u201d--and Niya nodded\nher head to the waters at her feet--\u201cand walk along the bottom and come\nout at the farther end is no great task, and as for carrying a heavy\nstone, that doth but make the task easier; but in those days there were\ndevils who lived in a cave that is beneath where we now sit, and none of\nour people ever bathed here, for fear they would be seized and dragged\ndown. But yet had Red-Hair one day put a stone upon his shoulder, and\ncarried it under the water from one end of the pool to another--this to\nshow the people that he feared no devils. But of the cave that can be\ngained by diving under the wall of rock he knew nothing--only to a few\nwas it known.\n\n\u201c'Show this boaster his folly,' said Nanakin to Red-Hair, who was\nchewing his beard with wrath. And so it was agreed upon the morrow that\nthe two white men should walk each with a stone upon his shoulder, in\nat one end of the deep pool and come out of the other, and Harry should\nprove his boast, that in all things he was equal to Red-Hair.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhen Red-Hair went back to his house Luliban was gone, and some said\nshe had fled to the mountains, and he reproached Nanakin, saying: 'Thy\ndaughter hath fled to Ngatik to the house of Harry. I will have her life\nand his for this.' But Nanakin smoothed his face and said: 'Nay, not so;\nbut first put this boaster to shame before the people, and he shall die,\nand Luliban be found.'\n\n\u201cNow, Luliban was hid in another village, and when the time drew near\nfor the trial at the pool she went there before the people. In her hand\nshe carried a sharp _toki_ (tomahawk) and a long piece of strong cinnet\nwith a looped end. She dived in and clambered out again underneath and\nwaited. The cave is not dark, for there are many fissures in the top\nthrough which light comes when the sun is high.\n\n\u201cThe people gathered round, and laughed and talked as the two white men\nstripped naked, save for narrow girdles of leaves round their loins. The\nskin of Red-Hair was as white as sand that lies always in the sun that\nof Harry was brown, and covered from his neck to his feet with strange\ntattooing, more beautiful than that of the men of Ponape.\n\n\u201cThey looked at each other with blood in their eyes, and the long,\nyellow teeth of Red-Hair ground together, but no words passed between\nthem till Red-Hair, poising a great stone on his shoulder, called out\nto Harry: 'Follow me, O boastful stealer of my wife, and drown thy blue\ncarcass.'\n\n\u201cThen he walked in, and Harry, also with a heavy stone, followed him.\nEre one could count a score those that watched could not see Harry,\nbecause of the depth of the water and the darkness of his skin. But\nthe white skin of Red-Hair gleamed like the belly of a shark when it\nturneth--then it disappeared.\n\n\u201cWhen they were half-way through a stone fell through a fissure of the\ncave, and Luliban, who watched for the signal, dived outwards with the\nline of cinnet, and came behind Red-Hair and put the noose over his left\nfoot, and Harry, who followed close, cast the stone he carried away and\nraised his hand and stabbed him in the belly as he turned, and then,\nwith Luliban and he dragging tight the line of cinnet, they shot up from\nbeneath the water into the cave and pulled Red-Hair after them.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThe people had gathered at the farther end of the pool to see the two\nmen come up; and when they came not they wondered, and some one said:\n'The devils have seized them!'\n\n\u201cThen Nanakin, who alone remained on the top of the rocks, called out,\n'Alas for the white men! I can see bubbles, and the water is bloody,'\nand he beat his head on the rocks and made great grief and called out\nto the devils in the cave, 'Spare me my white men, O devils of the cave,\nspare me my good white men. But if one must die let it be him that hath\noffended.'\n\n\u201cAh! he was a cunning man, was Nanakin, the father of Nanakin my father.\n\n\u201cThe men and the women and children ran up again from the end of the\npool; for, although they were greatly afraid, they durst not leave their\nchief by himself to beat out his head upon the stones. So they clustered\nround him and wailed also with him. And Nanakin raised his voice again\nand again and called out to the devils of the pool to spare him one\nwhite man; and the people called out with him. Yet none of them dared\nlook upon the water of the pool; only Nanakin turned his eyes that way.\n\n\u201cAt last the chief said, 'Ho, what is that?' and he pointed to the\nwater, and they saw bubbles again rise up and break the surface of the\nwater. 'Now shall I know if my white men are dead.'\n\n\u201cAnd, as they looked, behold there shot up from the water a yellow\ngourd, and the men shouted, some in wonder and more in fear. And Nanakin\nleaned over the edge of the rock and stretched out his hand and drew the\ngourd to him. Then he took it in his hand, and lo! there was tied to the\nneck a piece of plaited cinnet, which ran deep down into the water under\nthe rock.\n\n\u201cAgain Nanakin called out to his men who stood crouched up behind him.\n'What shall I do with this? shall I pull it up?'\n\n\u201cAnd then--so the people said--there came a voice from the bowels of the\nearth, which said, 'Pull!'\n\n\u201cSo they drew in the line, and as they drew it became heavy, and then\nsomething came up with a splash, and those that held the line looked\nover, and lo! there was the head of Red-Hair, wet and bloody, tied to\nthe end of it by the ear.\n\n\u201cThe head was laid upon the rock, and then the people would have turned\nand fled, but that Nanakin and two of his priests said there was now no\nfear as the cave devils were angry alone with Red-Hair, who had twice\nbraved them.\n\n\u201cThen the two priests and Nanakin leant over the wall of rocks and\ncalled out again for the life of Harry to be spared, and as they called,\nhe shot out from underneath and held out his hands; and they pulled him\nin.\n\n\u201c'Let us away from here quickly,' was all he said. 'I thank thee, O\nchief, for thy prayers; else had the devils of the pool taken off my\nhead as they have taken off that of Red-Hair, and devoured my body as\nthey have devoured his.'\n\n\u201cThen the people picked him up, for he was weak, and every one that was\nthere left the pool in fear and trembling, except Nanakin and the two\npriests, who laughed inwardly.\n\n\u201cWhen all was quiet, Luliban, too, came up from under the water and\ndried her body, and oiled and scented her hair from a flask that she\nhad hidden in the bushes, and went back to Red-Hair's house, and, with\ndowncast face but a merry heart, asked her women to plead with her\nhusband not to beat her for running away. Then they told her of the\ndoings at the pool.\n\n\u201cWhen ten days were gone by for mourning, Luliban became wife to 'Harry\nfrom Yap,' and he took her with him to Ngatik, and the favour of Nanakin\nthat was once Red-Hair's became his, and he prospered. And for long,\nlong years no one knew how it was that Red-Hair lost his head till\nLuliban told it.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201c_Huh!_\u201d said Sru, the boy, admiringly. \u201cHe was a Fine Man, that\nRed-Hair; but the white man with the tattooed skin was a Better.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nNINIA\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nAway out upon the wide Northern Pacific there is a group of three little\nislands. They are so very, very small that you need not seek to discover\nthem on the map of the Pacific Ocean; but if any of you have a chart of\nthe North or West Pacific, then you would easily be able to find them.\nRun your eye up north, away past the Equator, in the direction of China,\nand you will see, to the north of New Guinea, a large cluster of islands\nnamed the \u201cCaroline Islands,\u201d some of which are named, but most are\nnot--only tiny dots no bigger than a pin's head serve to mark their\nposition. Perhaps, however--if you get a German chart--you may see one\nof the largest of the small dots marked \u201cPingelap,\u201d and Pingelap is the\nname of the largest of the three little islands of my story; the others\nare called Tugulu and Takai.\n\nNow, although Pingelap and Tugulu and Takai are so close together that\nat low tide one may walk across the coral reef that encircles the whole\ngroup from one island to another, yet are they lonely spots, for there\nis no other island nearer than Mokil, which is ninety miles away.\n\nBut yet, although the three islands are so small, a great number of\nnatives live upon them--between four and five hundred. There is only one\nvillage, which is on Pingelap, and here all the people lived. The island\nitself is not more than two miles in length, and in no place is it\nmore than a quarter of a mile in width; and Tugulu and Takai are still\nsmaller. And from one end to the other the islands are covered with a\ndense verdure of cocoanut palms, with scarcely any other tree amongst\nthem, so that when seen from the ship two or three miles away, they\nlook exactly like a belt of emerald surrounding a lake of silver, for\nin their centre is a beautiful lagoon surrounded on three sides by the\nland, and on the west protected from the sweeping ocean rollers by a\ndouble line of coral reef stretching from little Takai to the south end\nof Pingelap.\n\nThere are hundreds of beautiful islands in the Pacific, but not any\none of them can excel in beauty lonely little Pingelap. There are two\nreefs--an outer and an inner. Against the outer or ocean reef huge\nseas for ever dash unceasingly on the windward side of the island, and\nsometimes, in bad weather, will sweep right over the coral and pour\nthrough the shallow channel between Tugulu and Pingelap; and then the\ncalm, placid waters of the lagoon will be fretted and disturbed until\nfine weather comes again. But bad weather is a rare event in those seas,\nand usually the lagoon of Pingelap is as smooth as a sheet of glass.\nAnd all day long you may see children paddling about in canoes, crossing\nfrom one shining beach to another, and singing as they paddle, for they\nare a merry-hearted race, the people of these three islands, and love to\nsing and dance, and sit out in front of their houses on moonlight nights\nand listen to tales told by the old men of the days when their islands\nwere reddened with blood. For until fifteen years before, the people\nof Pingelap and Tugulu were at bitter enmity, and fought with and\nslaughtered each other to their heart's delight. And perhaps there would\nhave soon been none left to tell the tale, but that one day an American\nwhaleship, called the _Cohasset_ touched there to buy turtle from\nSralik, the chief of Pingelap, and Sralik besought the captain to give\nhim muskets and powder and ball to fight the Tugulans with.\n\nSo the captain gave him five muskets and plenty of powder and bullets,\nand then said--\n\n\u201cSee, Sralik; I will give you a white man too, to show you how to shoot\nyour enemies.\u201d\n\nAnd then he laughed, and calling out to a man named Harry, he told him\nto clear out of the ship and go and live ashore and be a king, as he was\nnot worth his salt as a boatsteerer.\n\nAnd so this Harry Devine, who was a drunken, good-for-nothing,\nquarrelsome young American, came ashore with Sralik, and next day he\nloaded the five muskets and, with Sralik, led the Pingelap people over\nto Tugulu. There was a great fight, and as fast as Sralik loaded a\nmusket, Harry fired it and killed a man. At last, when nearly thirty had\nbeen shot, the Tugulu people called for quarter.\n\n\u201cGet thee together on Takai,\u201d called out Sralik, \u201cand then will we talk\nof peace.\u201d\n\nNow Takai is such a tiny little spot, that Sralik knew he would have\nthem at his mercy, for not one of them had a musket.\n\nAs soon as the last of the Tugulu people had crossed the shallow channel\nthat divides Tugulu from Takai, the cunning Sralik with his warriors\nlined the beach and then called to the Tugulans--\n\n\u201cThis land is too small for so many.\u201d\n\nAnd then Harry, once the boatsteerer and now the beachcomber, fired his\nmuskets into the thick, surging mass of humanity on the little 'islet,\nand every shot told. Many of them, throwing aside their spears and\nclubs, sprang into the water and tried to swim over to Pingelap across\nthe lagoon. But Sralik's men pursued them in canoes and clubbed and\nspeared them as they swam; and some that escaped death by club or spear,\nwere rent in pieces by the sharks which, as soon as they smelt the blood\nof the dead and dying men that sank in the quiet waters of the lagoon,\nswarmed in through a passage in the western reef. By and by the last of\nthose who took to the water were killed, and only some eighty or ninety\nmen and many more women and children were left on Takai, and the five\nmuskets became so hot and foul that Harry could murder no longer, and\nhis arm was tired out with slaughter.\n\nAll that night Sralik's warriors watched to see that none escaped, and\nat dawn the hideous massacre began again, and club, spear, and musket\ndid their fell work till only the women and children were left. These\nwere spared. Among them was Ninia, the wife of Sikra, the chief of\nTugulu. And because she was young and fairer than any of the others, the\nwhite man asked her of Sralik for his wife. Sralik laughed.\n\n\u201cTake her, O clever white marn--her and as many more as thou carest for\nslaves. Only thou and I shall rule here now in this my island.\u201d\n\nSo Harry took her and married her according to native custom, and Ninia\nwas his one wife for nearly fifteen years, when one day he was quietly\nmurdered as he lay asleep in his house with his wife and two children;\nand although Sralik wept loudly and cut his great chest with a shark's\nteeth dagger, and offered sacrifices of turtle flesh to the white\nman's _jelin_, Ninia his wife and many other people knew that it was by\nSralik's orders that Harry had been killed, for they had quarrelled\nover the possession of a whaleboat which Harry had bought from a passing\nship, and which he refused to either sell or give to Sralik.\n\nHowever, Sralik was not unkind to Ninia, and gave her much of her\ndead husband's property, and told her that he would give her for an\ninheritance for her two daughters the little islet--Takai.\n\nAnd there in the year 1870 Ninia the widow, and Ninia her eldest\ndaughter (for on Pingelap names of the first-born are hereditary) and\nTarita, the youngest, went to live. With them went another girl, a\ngranddaughter of the savage old Sralik. Her name was Ruvani. She was\nabout eleven years of age, and as pretty as a gazelle, and because of\nher great friendship for Ninia--who was two years older than she--she\nhad wept when she saw the mother and daughters set out for Takai.\n\nFierce-hearted Sralik coming to the doorway of his thatched hut heard\nthe sound of weeping, and looking out he saw Ruvani sitting under the\nshade of some banana trees with her face hidden in her pretty brown\nhands.\n\nWhen he learned the cause of her grief his heart softened, and drawing\nhis little grand-daughter to him, patted her head, and said--\n\n\u201cNay, weep not, little bird. Thou too shalt go to Takai; and see,\nbecause of thee my heart shall open wide to Ninia and her daughters, and\nI will give her four slaves--two men and two women--who shall toil for\nyou all. And when thou art tired of living at Takai, then thou and thy\ntwo playmates shall come over here to me and fill my house with the\nlight of thy eyes.\u201d\n\nSo that is how Ninia, the widow of the wandering white man, and her\ntwo daughters and their friend came to live at the little islet called\nTakai.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nThe months went by and Ruvani, the chief's granddaughter, still lived\nwith her friends, for she was too happy to leave them. Sometimes,\nthough, on bright moonlight nights, the three girls would paddle across\nto the big village and gather with the rest of the village girls in\nfront of the chiefs house, and dance and sing and play the game called\n_n'jiajia_; and then, perhaps, instead of going home across the lagoon\nin the canoe, they would walk around on the inner beaches of Pingelap\nand Tugulu. And long ere they came to the house they could see the faint\nglimmer of the fire within, beside which Ninia the widow slept awaiting\ntheir return.\n\nStealing softly in, the girls would lie down together on a soft white\nmat embroidered with parrots' feathers that formed their bed, and\npulling another and larger one over them for a coverlet, they would fall\nasleep, undisturbed by the loud, hoarse notes of a flock of _katafa_\n(frigate birds) that every night settled on the boughs of a great _koa_\ntree whose branches overhung the house.\n\nSometimes when the trade-winds had dropped, and the great ocean rollers\nwould beat heavily upon the far-off shelves of the outer reef, the\nlittle island would seem to shake and quiver to its very foundations,\nand now and then as a huge wave would curl slowly over and break with\na noise like a thunder-peal, the frigate-birds would awake from their\nsleep and utter a solemn answering squawk, and the three girls nestling\ncloser together would whisper--\n\n\u201c'Tis Nanawit, the Cave-god, making another cave.\u201d\n\nEre the red sun shot out from the ocean the eight dwellers on Takai\nwould rise from their mats; and whilst Ninia the widow would kindle\na fire of broken cocoanut shells, the two men slaves would go out and\nbring back young cocoanuts and taro from the plantation on Tugulu, and\ntheir wives would take off their gaily-coloured grass-girdles and tie\ncoarse nairiris of cocoanut fibre around them instead, and with the\nthree girls go out to the deep pools on the reef and catch fish.\nSometimes they would surprise a turtle in one of the pools, and, diving\nin after the frightened creature, would capture and bring it home in\ntriumph to Ninia the widow.\n\nSuch was the daily life of those who dwelt on Takai.\n\n*****\n\nOne day, ere the dews of the night had vanished from the lofty plumes\nof the cocoanut palms, there came to them a loud cry, borne across the\nwaters of the silent lagoon, over from the village--\n\n\u201cA ship! A ship!\u201d\n\nNow not many ships came to Pingelap--perhaps now and then some wandering\nsperm-whaler, cruising lazily along toward the distant Pelew Islands,\nwould heave-to and send a boat ashore to trade for turtle and young\ndrinking cocoanuts. But it was long since any whaleship had called, and\nNinia the widow, as she looked out seawards for the ship, said to the\ngirls--\n\n\u201c'Tis not yet the season for the whaleships; four moons more and we may\nsee one. I know not what other ships would come here.\u201d\n\nBy and by they saw the ship. She sailed slowly round the south point of\nPingelap and backed her foreyard, and presently a boat was lowered and\npulled ashore.\n\nLittle Tarita, clapping her hands with joy, darted into the house,\nfollowed by Ruvani and Ninia, and casting off their wet girdles of\nbanana fibre--for they had just come in from fishing--they dressed\nthemselves in their pretty _nairiris_ of coloured grasses, and put on\nhead-dresses of green and gold parrots' feathers, with necklaces of\nsweet-smelling berries around their necks, and were soon paddling across\nthe lagoon to see the white strangers from the ship, who had already\nlanded and gone up the beach and into the village.\n\nIt is nearly a mile from Takai to the village, and before the girls\nreached there they heard a great clamour of angry voices, and presently\ntwo white men dressed in white and carrying books in their hands came\nhurriedly down the beach, followed by a crowd of Sralik's warriors, who\nurged them along and forced them into the boat.\n\nThen seizing the boat they shot her out into the water, and, shaking\ntheir spears and clubs, called out--\n\n\u201cGo, white men, go!\u201d\n\nBut although the native sailors who pulled the boat were trembling\nwith fear, the two white men did not seem frightened, and one of them,\nstanding up in the stern of the boat, held up his hand and called out to\nthe angry and excited people--\n\n\u201cLet me speak, I pray you!\u201d\n\nThe natives understood him, for he spoke to them in the language spoken\nby the natives of Strong's Island, which is only a few hundred miles\nfrom Pingelap.\n\n*****\n\nThe people parted to the right and left as Sralik, the chief, with\na loaded musket grasped in his brawny right hand, strode down to the\nwater's edge. Suppressed wrath shone in his eyes as he grounded his\nmusket on the sand and looked at the white man.\n\n\u201cSpeak,\u201d he said, \u201cand then be gone.\u201d\n\nThe white man spoke.\n\n\u201cNay, spare us thy anger, O chief. I come, not here to fill thy heart\nwith anger, but with peace; and, to tell thee of the great God, and of\nHis Son Christ who hath sent me to thee.\u201d\n\nSralik laughed scornfully.\n\n\u201cThou liest. Long ago, did I know that some day a white-painted ship\nwould come to Pingelap, and that white, men would come and speak to us\nof this new God and His Son who is called Christ, and would say that\nthis Christ had sent them, and: then would the hearts of my people be\nstolen from Nanawit the Cave-god, and Tuarangi the god of the Skies,\nand I, Sralik the king, would become but as a slave, for this new God of\ntheirs would steal the hearts of my people from me as well.\u201d\n\nThe white man said sorrowfully--\n\n\u201cNay, that is not so. Who hath told thee this?\u201d\n\n\u201cA better white man than thee--he who slew my enemies and was named Har\u00e9\n(Harry). Long ago did he warn me of thy coming and bid me beware of thee\nwith thy lies about thy new God and His Son Christ.\u201d\n\nAgain the missionary said--\n\n\u201cLet me speak.\u201d\n\nBut Sralik answered him fiercely--\n\n\u201cAway, I tell thee, to thy white-painted ship, and trouble me no more,\u201d\n and he slapped the stock of his musket, and his white teeth gleamed\nsavagely through his bearded face.\n\nSo the two missionaries went back, and the _Morning Star_ filled away\nagain and sailed slowly away to the westward.\n\n*****\n\nThat night as the three girls lay on the mats beside the dying embers\nof the fire, they talked of the strange white men whom Sralik had driven\naway.\n\nNinia the widow listened to them from her corner of the house, and then\nshe said musingly--\n\n\u201cI, too, have heard of this God Christ; for when Har\u00e9, thy father, lay\nin my arms with the blood pouring from his wound and death looked out\nfrom his eyes, he called upon His name.\u201d\n\nYoung Ninia and her sister drew closer and listened. Never until now had\nthey heard their mother speak of their white father's death. They only\nknew that some unknown enemy had thrust a knife into his side as he lay\nasleep, and Ninia the widow had, with terror in her eyes, forbidden them\nto talk of it even amongst themselves. Only she herself knew that Sralik\nhad caused his death. But to-night she talked.\n\n\u201cTell us more, my mother,\u201d said girl Ninia, going over to her, and\nputting her cheek against her mother's troubled face and caressing her\nin the darkness.\n\n\u201cAye, I can tell thee now, my children, for Sralik's anger is dead\nnow.... It was at the dawn, just when the first note of the blue pigeon\nis heard, that I heard a step in the house--'twas the death-men of\nSralik--and then a loud cry, and Har\u00e9, thy father, awoke to die. The\nknife had bitten deep and he took my hands in his and groaned.\n\n\u201c'Farewell,' he said, 'O mother of my children, I die!' Then he cried,\n'And Thou, O Christ, look down on and forgive me; Christ the Son of\nGod.'\n\n\u201cWith my hand pressed to his side, I said: 'Who is it that thou callest\nupon, my husband? Is it the white man's God?'\n\n\u201c'Aye,' he said, 'this Christ is He whom I have so long denied. He is\nthe Son of the God whose anger I fear to meet now that my soul goes out\ninto darkness.'\n\n\u201c'Fear not,' I said, weeping, 'I, Ninia, will make offerings to this\nwhite God and His Son Christ, so that their anger may be softened\nagainst thy spirit when it wanders in ghost-land.'\n\n\u201cSo he groaned and was dead. And for six or more moons did I put\nofferings to the white God upon thy father's grave as I had promised.\nNo offerings made I to our own gods, for he despised them even as he\ndespised his own. But yet do I think his _jelin_ (spirit) is at rest in\nghost-land; else had it come to me in the night and touched me on the\nforehead as I slept.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nA month had gone by since the day that Sralik had driven away the\n\u201cChrist ship,\u201d as the people called the _Morning Star_, and then word\ncame over from Sralik to Ruvani, his granddaughter, to come over and\ntake her part in a night-dance and feast to the rain-god, for the year\nhad been a good one and the cocoanut trees were loaded with nuts. For\nthis was the dancing and feasting.\n\nAll that day the eight people of Takai were busied in making ready their\ngifts of food for the feast which was to take place in two days' time.\nIn the afternoon, when the sun had lost its strength, the three girls\nlaunched their canoe and set out for a place on the northern point\nof Pingelap, where grew in great profusion the sweet-smelling _nudu_\nflower. These would they get to make garlands and necklets to wear at\nthe great dance, in which they were all to take part.\n\nIn an hour or two they had gathered all the _nudu_ flowers they desired,\nand then little Tarita looking up saw that the sky was overcast and\nblackening, and presently some heavy drops of rain fell.\n\n\u201cHaste, haste,\u201d she cried to the others, \u201clet us away ere the strong\nwind which is behind the black clouds overtakes us on the lagoon.\u201d\n\nNight comes on quickly in the South Seas, and by the time they had\nseated themselves in the canoe it was dark. In a little while a sharp\nrain-squall swept down from the northward, and they heard the wind\nrattling and crashing through the branches, of the palms on Tugulu.\n\nNinia, who was steering, boldly headed the canoe across the lagoon for\nTakai, and laughed when Ruvani and Tarita, who were wet and shivering\nwith the cold rain, urged that they should put in at the beach on Tugulu\nand walk home.\n\n\u201cPaddle, paddle strongly,\u201d she cried, \u201cwhat mattereth a little rain and\nwind! And sing, so that our mother will hear us and make ready something\nto eat. Look, I can already see the blaze of her fire.\u201d\n\nStriking their paddles into the water in unison, they commenced to sing,\nbut suddenly their voices died away in terror as a strange, droning hum\nwas borne down to them from the black line of Tugulu shore; and then the\ndroning deepened into a hoarse roaring noise as the wild storm of wind\nand fierce, stinging rain tore through the groves of cocoanuts and\nstripped them of leaves and branches.\n\nBrave Ninia, leaning her lithe figure well over the side of the canoe,\nplunged her paddle deep down and tried to bring the canoe head to\nwind to meet the danger, and Ruvani, in the bow, with long hair\nflying straight out behind her, answered her effort with a cry of\nencouragement, and put forth all her strength to aid.\n\nBut almost ere the cry had left her lips, the full fury of the squall\nhad struck them; the canoe was caught in its savage breath, twirled\nround and round, and then filled.\n\n\u201cKeep thou in the canoe, little one, and bale,\u201d cried Ninia to Tarita,\nas she and Ruvani leaped into the water.\n\nFor some minutes the two girls clung with one hand each to the gunwale,\nand Tarita, holding the large wooden _ahu_ or baler, in both hands,\ndashed the water out. Then she gave a trembling cry--the baler struck\nagainst the side of the canoe and dropped overboard.\n\nNinia dared not leave the canoe to seek for it in the intense darkness,\nand so clinging to the little craft, which soon filled again, they\ndrifted about. The waters of the lagoon were now white with the breaking\nseas, and the wind blew with fierce, cruel, steadiness, and although\nthey knew it not, they were being swept quickly away from the land\ntowards the passage in the reef.\n\nThe rain had ceased now, and the water being warm none of them felt\ncold, but the noise of the wind and sea was so great that they had to\nshout loudly to each other to make their voices heard.\n\nPresently Ruvani called out to Ninia--\n\n\u201cLet us take Tarita between us and swim to the shore, ere the sharks\ncome to us.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, we are safer here, Ruvani, And how could we tell my mother that\nthe canoe is lost? Let us wait a little and then the wind will die\naway.\u201d\n\nCanoes are valuable property on Pingelap, where suitable wood for\nbuilding them is scarce, and this was in Ninia's mind.\n\nThey still kept hold of their paddles, and although afraid of the\nsharks, waited patiently for the storm to cease, little thinking that\nat that moment the ebbing tide and wind together had swept them into\nthe passage, and that they were quickly drifting away from their island\nhome.\n\nAll that night Ninia the widow and her four slaves sought along the\nbeach of Tugulu for the three girls, who they felt sure had landed\nthere. And when the day broke at last, and they saw that the gale had\nnot ceased and that the canoe had vanished, they ran all the way over to\nthe village, and Ninia threw herself at Sralik's feet.\n\n\u201cThy granddaughter and my children have perished, O chief.\u201d\n\nThe chief came to the door of his house and looked out upon the wild\nturmoil of waters.\n\n\u201cIt is the will of the gods,\u201d he said, \u201celse had not my whaleboat been\ncrushed in the night,\u201d and he pointed to the ruins of the boat-shed upon\nwhich a huge cocoanut tree had fallen and smashed the boat.\n\nThen he went back into his house and covered his face, for Ruvani was\ndear to his savage old heart.\n\nAnd Ninia went back to her lonely house and wept and mourned for her\nlost ones as only mothers weep and mourn, be they of white skins or\nbrown.\n\n*****\n\nAway out into the ocean the canoe was swept along, and Ruvani and Ninia\nstill clung to her, one at the head and one at the stern. Once there\ncame a brief lull, and then they succeeded in partly freeing her from\nwater, and Tarita using her two hands like a scoop meanwhile, the canoe\nat last became light enough for them to get in.\n\nThey were only just in time, for even then the wind freshened, and Ninia\nand Ruvani let the canoe run before it, for they were too exhausted to\nkeep her head to the wind.\n\nWhen daylight broke Ninia, with fear in her heart, stood up in the canoe\nand looked all round her.\n\nThere was no land in sight! Poor children! Even then they could not have\nbeen more than twenty miles away from the island, for Pingelap is very\nlow and not visible even from a ship's deck at more than twelve or\nfifteen miles.\n\nBut she was a brave girl, although only fourteen, and when Tarita and\nRuvani wept she encouraged them.\n\n\u201cSralik will come to seek us in the boat,\u201d she said, although she could\nhave wept with them.\n\nThe wind still carried them along to the westward, and Ninia knew that\nevery hour was taking them further and further away from Pingelap, but,\nalthough it was not now blowing hard, she knew that it was useless for\nthem to attempt to paddle against it. So, keeping dead before the wind\nand sea, they drifted slowly along.\n\nAt noon the wind died away, and then, tired and worn out, she and Ruvani\nlay down in the bottom of the canoe and slept, while little Tarita sat\nup on the cane framework of the outrigger and watched the horizon for\nSralik's boat.\n\nHour after hour passed, and the two girls still slept. Tarita, too, had\nlain her weary head down and slumbered with them.\n\nSlowly the sun sank beneath a sea of glassy smoothness, unrippled even\nby the faintest air, and then Ninia awoke, and, sitting up, tossed her\ncloud of dark hair away from her face, and looked around her upon the\ndarkening ocean. Her lips were dry and parched, and she felt a terrible\nthirst.\n\n\u201cTarita,\u201d she called, \u201cart sleeping, dear one?\u201d\n\nA sob answered her.\n\n\u201cNay, for my head is burning, and I want a drink.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe whole story of those days of unutterable agony cannot be told here.\nThere, under a torrid sun, without a drop of water or a morsel of food,\nthe poor creatures drifted about till death mercifully came to two of\nthem.\n\nIt was on the evening of the second day that Ninia, taking her little\nsister in her own fast weakening arms, pressed her to her bosom, and,\nlooking into her eyes, felt her thirst-racken body quiver and then grow\nstill in the strange peacefulness of death. Then a long wailing cry\nbroke upon the silence of the night.\n\nHow long she had sat thus with the child's head upon her bosom and her\ndead sightless eyes turned upward to the glory of the star-lit heavens\nshe knew not; after that one moaning cry of sorrow that escaped from her\nanguished heart she had sat there like a figure of stone, dull, dazed,\nand unconscious almost of the agonies of thirst. And then Ruvani, with\nwild, dreadful eyes and bleeding, sun-baked lips, crept towards her,\nand, laying her face on Ninia's hand, muttered--\n\n\u201cFarewell, O friend of my heart; I die.\u201d\n\nAnd then, as she lay there with closed eyes and loosened hair falling\nlike a shroud over the form of her dead playmate, she muttered and\ntalked, and then laughed a strange weird laugh that chilled the blood in\nNinia's veins. So that night passed, and then, as the fiery sun uprose\nagain upon the wide sweep or lonely sea and the solitary drifting canoe\nwith its load of misery, Ruvani, who still muttered and laughed to\nherself, suddenly rose up, and with the strength of madness, placing\nher arms around the stiffened form of little Tarita, she sprang over the\nside and sank with her.\n\nNinia, stretching her arms out piteously, bowed her head, and lay down\nto die.\n\n*****\n\nShe was aroused from her stupor by the cries of a vast flock of sea\nbirds, and, opening her eyes, she saw that the canoe was surrounded by\nthousands upon thousands of bonita that leaped and sported and splashed\nabout almost within arm's length of her. They were pursuing a shoal of\nsmall fish called _atuli_, and these every now and then darted under the\ncanoe for protection. Sometimes, as the hungry bonita pressed them hard,\nthey would leap out of the water, hundreds together, and then the sea\nbirds would swoop down and seize them ere they fell back into the sea.\n\nNinia, trembling with excitement and the hope of life, watched\neagerly. Presently she heard a curious, rippling noise, and then a\nrapidly-repeated tapping on the outrigger side of the canoe.\n\nOh! the joy of it; the water was black with a mass of _atuli_ crowded\ntogether on the surface, and frightened and exhausted.\n\nShe thrust her hands in among them and threw handsful after handsful\ninto the canoe, and then her dreadful thirst and hunger made her cease,\nand, taking fish after fish, she bit into them with her sharp teeth, and\nassuaged both hunger and thirst.\n\nAs she tore ravenously at the _atuli_ the sky became overcast, and while\nthe bonitas splashed and jumped around her, and the birds cried shrilly\noverhead, the blessed rain began to fall, at first in heavy drops, and\nthen in a steady downpour.\n\nTaking off her thick grass girdle, she rolled it up into a tight coil\nand placed it across the bottom of the canoe, about two feet from the\nbows, so as to form a dam; and then, lying face downwards, she drank\nand drank till satisfied. Then she counted the _atuli_. There were over\nforty.\n\nAll that day the rain squalls continued, and then the wind settled and\nblew steadily from the east, and Ninia kept the canoe right before it.\n\nThat night she slept but little. A wild hope had sprung up in her heart\nthat she might reach the island of Ponape, which she knew was not many\ndays' sail from Pingelap. Indeed, she had once heard her father and\nSralik talking about going there in the whaleboat to sell turtle-shell\nto the white traders there.\n\nBut she did not know that the current and trade wind were setting the\ncanoe quickly away from Ponape towards a group of low-lying atolls\ncalled Ngatik.\n\n*****\n\nThe rain had ceased, and in the warm, starlight night she drifted on to\nthe west, and as she drifted she dreamed of her father, and saw Ninia\nthe widow, her mother, sitting in the desolate house on Takai, before\nthe dying embers of the fire, and heard her voice crying:\n\n\u201c_O thou white Christ God, to whom my husband called as he died, tell me\nare my children perished? I pray thee because of the white blood that is\nin them to protect them and let me behold my beloved again_.\u201d\n\nThe girl awoke. Her mother's voice seemed to still murmur in her ears,\nand a calm feeling of rest entered her soul. She took her paddle, and\nthen stopped and thought.\n\nThis new God--the Christ-God of her father--perhaps He would help her\nto reach the land. She, too, would call upon Him, even as her mother had\ndone.\n\n\u201cSee, O Christ-God. I am but one left of three. I pray Thee guide my\ncanoe to land, so that I may yet see Ninia my mother once more.\u201d\n\nAs the dawn approached she dozed again, and then she heard a sound that\nmade her heart leap--it was the low, monotonous beat of the surf.\n\nWhen the sun rose she saw before her a long line of low-lying islands,\nclothed in cocoanuts, and shining like jewels upon the deep ocean blue.\n\nShe ate some more of the fish, and, paddling as strongly as her strength\nwould permit, she passed between the passage, entered the smooth waters\nof the lagoon, and ran the canoe up on to a white beach.\n\n\u201cThe Christ-God has heard me,\u201d she said as she threw her wearied form\nunder the shade of the cocoa-nut palms and fell into a heavy, dreamless\nslumber.\n\nAnd here next morning the people of Ngatik found her. They took the poor\nwanderer back with them to their houses that were clustered under the\npalm-groves a mile or two away, and there for two years she dwelt with\nthem, hoping and waiting to return to Pingelap.\n\nOne day a ship came--a whaler cruising back to Strong's Island and the\nMarshall Group. The captain was told her story by the people of Ngatik,\nand offered to touch at Pingelap and land her.\n\nNinia the widow was still living on Takai, and her once beautiful face\nhad grown old and haggard-looking. Since the night of the storm four\nships had called at Pingelap, but she had never once gone over to the\nvillage, for grief was eating her heart away; and so, when one evening\nshe heard that a ship was in sight, she took no heed.\n\nHer house was very sad and lonely now, and as night came on she lay down\nin her end of the house and slept, while the other four people sat round\nthe fire and talked and smoked.\n\nIn the middle of the night the four slaves got up and went away to the\nvillage, for they wanted to be there when the boat from the ship came\nashore.\n\nAt daylight the ship was close in, and the people in the village saw a\nboat lowered. Then a cry of astonishment burst from them when they\nsaw the boat pull straight in over the reef and land at Takai, about a\nhundred yards from the house of Ninia, the white man's widow.\n\nOnly one person got out, and then the boat pushed off again and pulled\nback to the ship.\n\n*****\n\nNinia the widow had risen, and was rolling up the mat she had slept\nupon, when a figure darkened the doorway. She turned wonderingly to\nsee who it was that had come over so early from the village, when the\nstranger, who was a tall, graceful young girl, sprang forward, and,\nfolding her arms around her, said, sobbing with joy--\n\n\u201cMy mother... The Christ-God hath brought me back to thee again.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nBALDWIN'S LOIS\u00c8--Miss Lambert.\n\nHer mother was a full-blooded native--a woman of Anaa, in the Chain\nIslands--her father a dissolute and broken white wanderer. At the age\nof ten she was adopted by a wealthy South Sea trading captain, living\non the East Coast of New Zealand. He, with his childless wife, educated,\ncared for, and finally loved her, as they once loved a child of their\nown, dead twenty years before.\n\nAt sixteen Lois\u00e9 was a woman; and in the time that had passed since the\nmorning she had seen her reckless, beach-combing father carried ashore\nat Nukutavake with a skinful of whisky and his pockets full of the\ndollars for which he had sold her, the tongue and memories of her\nmother's race had become, seemingly, utterly forgotten.\n\n*****\n\nBut only seemingly; for sometimes in the cold winter months, when savage\nsoutherly gales swept over the cloud-blackened ocean from the white\nfields of Antarctic ice and smote the New Zealand coast with chilling\nblast, the girl would crouch beside the fire in Mrs. Lambert's\ndrawing-room, and covering herself with warm rugs, stare into the\nglowing coals until she fell asleep.\n\nShe had not forgotten.\n\nOne day a visitor came to see her adopted father. He was captain of a\nsmall trading schooner running to the Paumotus--her mother's land--and\nalthough old Lambert had long since given up his trading business and\nvoyagings, he liked to meet people from the Islands, and, indeed, kept\nopen house to them; so both he and Mrs. Lambert made him welcome.\n\nThe captain of the schooner was a man of a type common enough in the\nSouth Seas, rough, good-humoured, and coarsely handsome.\n\nAfter dinner the two men sat over their whisky and talked and smoked.\nMrs. Lambert, always an invalid, had gone to her room, but Lois\u00e9, book\nin hand, lay on a sofa and seemed to read. But she did not read, she\nlistened. She had caught a word or two uttered by the dark-faced,\nblack-bearded skipper--words that filled her with vague memories of long\nago. And soon she heard names--names of men, white and brown, whom she\nhad known in that distant, almost forgotten and savage childhood.\n\n*****\n\nWhen the seaman rose to leave and extended his tanned, sinewy hand to\nthe beautiful \u201cMiss Lambert,\u201d and gazed with undisguised admiration into\nher face, he little thought that she longed to say, \u201cStay and let me\nhear more.\u201d But she was conventional enough to know better than that,\nand that her adopted parents would be genuinely shocked to see her\nanything more than distantly friendly with such a man as a common\ntrading captain--even though that man had once been one of Lambert's\nmost trusted men. Still, as she raised her eyes to his, she murmured\nsoftly, \u201cWe will be glad to see you again, Captain Lemaire.\u201d And the\ndark-faced seaman gave her a subtle, answering glance.\n\n*****\n\nAll that night she lay awake--awake to the child memories of the life\nthat until now had slumbered within her. From her opened bedroom window\nshe could see the dulled blaze of the city's lights, and hear ever and\nanon the hoarse and warning roar of a steamer's whistle. She raised\nherself and looked out upon the waters of the harbour. A huge,\nblack mass was moving slowly seaward, showing only her masthead and\nside-lights--some ocean tramp bound northward. Again the boom of the\nwhistle sounded, and then, by the quickened thumping of the propeller,\nthe girl, knew that the tramp had rounded the point and was heading for\nthe open sea.\n\n*****\n\nShe lay back again on the pillow and tried to sleep. Why couldn't she\nsleep, she wondered. She closed her eyes. The branches of the pine that\ngrew close to her window rustled and shook to a passing breath of wind,\nand her eyes opened again. How strangely, though, it sounded to-night,\nand how her heart was thumping! Again the white lids drooped and half\nclosed again, and the pine branches waved and soughed gently to the\nbreeze.\n\nAnd then the dead grey of the wall of the room changed to a bright,\nshimmering white--the white of an island beach as it changes, under the\nred flush of the morn, from the shadows of the night to a broad belt of\ngleaming silver--and the sough of the pine-tree by the window deepened\ninto the humming music of the trade-wind when it passes through the\nsleeping palms, and a million branches awake trembling to its first\nbreaths and shake off in pearly showers the dews of the night. Again she\nraced along the clinking sand with her childish, half-naked companions,\nand heard the ceaseless throb of the beating surf upon the windward\nreef, and saw the flash of gold and scarlet of a flock of parrakeets\nthat with shrill, whistling note, vanished through the groves of\ncocoa-nuts as they sped mountain wards. Then her latent native soul\nawoke and made her desperate.\n\n*****\n\nEre two days had passed she was missing, and six weeks later a little\nwhite-painted schooner hove-to off one of the Paumotu Group, lowered a\nboat, and landed her amongst the wondering natives.\n\nThe dark-faced, black-bearded man who steered the boat held her hand a\nmoment ere he said good-bye.\n\n\u201cIt is not too late, Lois\u00e9.\u201d\n\nShe raised her face and laughed scornfully.\n\n\u201cTo go back? To go back to hear the old man who was a father and the\ngood woman who was a mother to me, tell me that they hated and despised\nme!\u201d And then quick, scalding tears.\n\nThe man's face flushed. \u201cNo, not that, but,\u201d with an oath, \u201clook here,\nif you'll come with me I'll head the schooner for Tahiti, and as soon as\nshe swings to her anchor we will be ashore and married.\u201d\n\nShe shook her head. \u201cLet me go, Captain Lemaire. Whatever comes to me,\n'tis I alone who must answer for it. And so--good-bye.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nShe stood and watched the boat hoisted to the davits, and saw the\nschooner slowly gather way, and then glide past and disappear round\nthe palm-crowned point. Then she turned with streaming eyes and choking\nvoice to the brown-skinned people that stood around her, and spoke to\nthem in her mother's tongue.\n\nSo ended the sixteen years' life of the beautiful Miss Lambert and began\nthat of Lois\u00e9, the half-blood.\n\n\n                                 LOIS\u00c9, THE HALF-BLOOD\n\nThere was a wild rush of naked, scurrying feet, and a quick panting\nof brown bosoms along the winding path that led to Baldwin's house at\nRikitea. A trading schooner had just dropped anchor inside the reef,\nand the runners, young lads and girls--half-naked, lithe-limbed and\nhandsome--like all the people of the \u201cthousand isles,\u201d wanted to welcome\nBaldwin the Trader at his own house door.\n\n*****\n\nTwo of them--a boy and girl--gained the trader's gate ahead of their\nexcited companions, and, leaning their backs against the white palings,\nmocked the rest for their tardiness in the race. With one arm around the\ngirl's lissom waist, the boy, Maturei, short, thickset, muscular, and\nthe bully of the village, beat off with his left hand those who sought\nto displace them from the gate; and the girl, thin, cr\u00e9ole-faced,\nwith soft, red-lipped mouth, laughed softly at their vexation. Her\ngaily-coloured grass waist girdle had broken, and presently moving the\nboy's protecting arm, she tried to tie the band, and as she tied it she\nrattled out oaths in English and French at the score of brown hands that\nsought to prevent her.\n\n\u201c_Hui! Hui!!_ Away, ye fools, and let me tie my girdle,\u201d she said in the\nnative tongue. \u201c'Tis no time now for such folly as this; for, see, the\nboat is lowered from the ship and in a little time the master will be\nhere.\u201d\n\nThe merry chatter ceased in an instant and every face turned towards the\nschooner, and a hundred pair of curious eyes watched. Then, one by one,\nthey sat down and waited; all but the two at the gate, who remained\nstanding, the boy's arm still wound round the girl's waist.\n\n*****\n\nThe boat was pulling in swiftly now, and the \u201cclick-clack\u201d of the\nrowlocks reached the listening ears of those on shore.\n\nThere were two figures in the stern, and presently one stood up, and\ntaking off his hat, waved it towards the shore.\n\nA roar of welcome from the thronging mass of natives that lined the\nbeach drowned the shrill, piping treble of the children round the gate,\nand told sturdy old Tom Baldwin that he was recognised, and scarce had\nthe bow of the boat ploughed into the soft sand of the beach when he\nwas seized upon and smothered with caresses, the men with good-natured\nviolence thrusting aside the women and forming a body-guard to conduct\nhim and the young man with him from the boat to the house. And about\nthe strange white man the people thronged with inquiring and admiring\nglances, for he was big and strong-looking--and that to a native mind is\nbetter than all else in the world.\n\nWith joyous, laughing clamour, the natives pressed around the white men\ntill the gate was reached, and then fell back.\n\nThe girl stepped forward, and taking the trader's hand, bent her\nforehead to it in token of submission.\n\n\u201cThe key of this thy house, T\u00e2mu,\u201d she murmured in the native tongue, as\nshe placed it in his hand.\n\n\u201cEnter thou first, Lois\u00e9,\u201d and he waved it away.\n\nA faint smile of pleasure illumined her face; Baldwin, rough and\ncareless as he was, was yet studious to observe native custom.\n\nThe white men followed her, and then in the open doorway Baldwin\nstopped, turned, and raised his hand, palm outwards, to the throng of\nnatives without.\n\n\u201cI thank thee, friends, for thy welcome. Dear to mine ears is the sound\nof the tongue of the men of Rikitea. See ye this young man here. He\nis the son of my friend who is now dead--he whom some of ye have seen,\nKapeni Paraisi\u201d (Captain Brice).\n\nA tall, broad-shouldered native, with his hair streaming down over his\nshoulders, strode up the steps, and taking the young man's hand in his,\nplaced it to his forehead.\n\n\u201cThe son of Paraisi is welcome to Rikitea, and to me, the chief of\nRikitea.\u201d\n\nThere was a murmur of approval; Baldwin waved his hand again, and then,\nwith Brice, entered the house.\n\nOutside, the boy and girl, seated on the verandah steps, talked and\nwaited for orders.\n\nSaid Maturei, \u201cLois\u00e9, think you that now T\u00e2mu hath found thee to be\nfaithful to his house and his name that he will marry thee according to\nthe promise made to the priests at Tenararo when he first brought thee\nhere?\u201d\n\nShe took a thick coil of her shining black hair and wound it round and\nround her hand meditatively, looking out absently over the calm waters\nof the harbour.\n\n\u201cWho knows, Maturei? And I, I care not. Yet do I think it will be so;\nfor what other girl is there here that knoweth his ways, and the ways\nof the white men as I know them? And this old man is a glutton; and, so\nthat my skill in baking pigeons and making _karri_ and rice fail me not,\nthen am I mistress here.... Maturei, is not the stranger an evil-looking\nman?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvil-looking!\u201d said the boy, wonderingly; \u201cnay, how canst thou say that\nof him?\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhat a jolly old fellow he is, and how these people adore him!\u201d thought\nBrice, as they sat down to dinner. Two or three of the village girls\nwaited upon them, and in the open doorway sat a vision of loveliness,\narrayed in yellow muslin, and directing the movements of the girls by\nalmost imperceptible motions of her palm-leaf fan.\n\nBrice was strangely excited. The novelty of the surroundings, the\nwondrous, bright beauty of sea, and shore, and palm-grove that lay\nwithin his range of vision were already beginning to weave their fetal\nspell upon his susceptible nature. And then, again and again, his glance\nwould fall upon the sweet, oval face and scarlet lips of the girl that\nsat in the doorway. Who was she? Not old Baldwin's wife, surely! for had\nnot the old fellow often told him that he was not married?... And what\na lovely spot to live in, this Rikitea! By Jove, he would like to stay a\nyear here instead of a few months only.... Again his eyes rested on\nthe figure in the doorway--and then his veins thrilled--Lois\u00e9, lazily\nlifting her long, sweeping lashes had caught his admiring glance.\n\n*****\n\nBrice was no fool with women--that is, he thought so, never taking\ninto consideration that his numerous love affairs had always ended\ndisastrously--to the woman. And his mother, good simple soul, had\nthought that the best means of taking her darling son away from\nunapproved-of female society would be a voyage to the islands with old\nTom Baldwin!\n\nDinner was finished, and the two men were sitting out on the verandah\nsmoking and drinking whisky, when Brice said, carelessly--\n\n\u201cI wonder you never married, Baldwin.\u201d\n\nThe old trader puffed at his pipe for a minute or two ere he answered--\n\n\u201cDid you notice that girl at all?\u201d and he inclined his head towards the\ndoor of the sitting-room.\n\nThe young man nodded.\n\nThen the candid Baldwin told him her history. \u201cI can't defend my own\nposition. I am no better than most traders--you see it is the custom\nhere, neither is she worse than any of these half-blooded Paumotuans. If\nI married a native of this particular island I would only bring trouble\non my head. I could not show any preference for any particular girl for\na wife without raising the bitterest quarrels among some of the leading\nchiefs here. You see, as a matter of fact, I should have married as soon\nas I came here, twenty years ago; then the trouble would have been over.\nBut I didn't. I can see my mistake now, for I am getting old pretty\nfast;... and now that the missionaries are here, and I do a lot of\nbusiness with them, I think us white men ought to show them some kind of\nrespect by getting married--properly married--to our wives.\u201d\n\nBrice laughed. \u201cYou mean, Baldwin, they should get married according to\nthe rites of the Roman Catholic Church?\u201d\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d the old trader assented. \u201cNow, there's Lois\u00e9, there--a clever,\nintelligent, well-educated girl, and as far as money or trade goes,\nas honest as the day. Can I, an old white-headed fool of sixty, go to\nAustralia and ask any _good_ woman to marry me, and come and live down\nhere? No.\u201d\n\nHe smoked in silence awhile, and then resumed.\n\n\u201cYes; honest and trustworthy she is, I believe; although the white\nblood in her veins is no recommendation. If ever you should live in the\nislands, my lad--which isn't likely--take an old fool's advice and never\nmarry a half-caste, either in native fashion or in a church with a brass\nband and a bishop as leading features of the show.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nLois\u00e9 came to them. \u201cWill you take coffee, T\u00e2mu?\u201d she asked, standing\nbefore them with folded hands.\n\nThe trader bent his head, and as the girl with noiseless step glided\ngracefully away again he watched her.\n\n\u201cI think I will marry her, Brice. Sometimes when the old Marist priest\ncomes here he makes me feel d----d uncomfortable. Of course he is too\nmuch of a gentleman--although he is a sky-pilot--to say all he would\nlike to say, but every time he bids me good-bye he says--cunning old\nchap--'And think, M. Baldwin, her father, bad as he was, was a _white\nman!_\u201d\n\nThe young man listened in silence.\n\n\u201cI don't think I will ever go back to civilisation again, my lad--I am\nno use there. Here I am somebody--there I am nobody; so I think I'll\ngive the old Father a bit of a surprise soon.\u201d Then with his merry,\nchuckling laugh--\u201cand you'll be my best man. You see, it won't make any\ndifference to you. Nearly all that I have, when I peg out, will go to\nyou--the son of my old friend and shipmate.\u201d\n\nA curious feeling shot through Brice's heart as he murmured his thanks.\nThe recital of the girl's history made him burn with hot anger against\nher. He had thought her so innocent. And yet the old trader's words,\n\u201cI've almost made up my mind to marry her,\u201d seemed to dash to the ground\nsome vague hope, he knew not what.\n\n*****\n\nThat night he lay on a soft mat on Baldwin's verandah and tried to\nsleep. But from between the grey-reds of the serried line of palms that\nencompassed the house on all but the seaward side, a pale face with\nstar-like eyes and ruby lips looked out and smiled upon him; in the\ndistant and ever varying cadences of the breaking surf he heard the\nsweet melody of her voice; in the dazzling brilliancy of the starry\nheavens her haunting face, with eyes alight with love, looked into his.\n\n\u201cD------n!\u201d He rose from his couch, opened the gate, and went out along\nthe white dazzle of the starlit beach. \u201cWhat the devil is the matter\nwith me? I must be drunk--on two or three nips of whisky.... What a\nglorious, heavenly night!... And what a grand old fellow Baldwin is!...\nAnd I'm an infernal scoundrel to think of her--or a d------d idiot, or a\nmiserable combination of both.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nIn a few days two things had happened. Baldwin had married Lois\u00e9, and\nBrice was madly in love with her and she with him. Yet scarcely a word\nhad passed between them--he silent because of genuine shame at the\ntreachery of his thoughts to the old man; she because she but bided her\ntime.\n\nOne day he accepted an invitation from the old French priest to pay a\nvisit to the Mission. He went away quietly one morning, and then wrote\nto Baldwin.\n\n\u201cTen miles is a good long way off,\u201d he thought. \u201cI'll be all right in a\nweek or so--then I'll come back and be a fool no longer.\u201d\n\nThe priest liked the young man, and in his simple, hospitable way, made\nmuch of him. On the evening of the third day, as they paced to and fro\non the path in the Mission garden, they saw Baldwin's boat sail up to\nthe beach.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said the priest, with a smile, \u201cM. Baldwin will not let me keep\nyou; and Lois\u00e9 comes with him. So, so, you must go, but you will come\nagain?\u201d and he pressed the young Englishman's hand.\n\nThe sturdy figure of the old trader came up through the garden; Lois\u00e9,\nnative fashion, walking behind him.\n\nKnitting his heavy white eyebrows in mock anger he ordered Brice to the\nboat, and then extending his hand to the priest--\u201cI must take him back,\nFather; the _Malolo_ sails to-morrow, and the skipper is coming ashore\nto-night to dinner, to say good-bye; and, as you know, Father, I'm a\nsilly old man with the whisky bottle, and I'll get Mr. Brice to keep me\nsteady.\u201d\n\nThe tall, thin old priest raised his finger warningly and shook his head\nat old Baldwin and then smiled.\n\n\u201cAh, M. Baldwin, I am very much afraid that I will never make you to\nunderstand that too much of the whisky is very bad for the head.\u201d\n\nWith a parting glass of wine they bade the good Father good-bye, and\nthen hoisting the sail, they stood across for Rikitea. The sun had\ndipped, and the land-breeze stole softly down from the mountains and\nsped the boat along. Baldwin was noisy and jocular; Brice silent and ill\nat ease.\n\nAnother hour's run and Baldwin sailed the boat close under the trading\nschooner's stern. Leaning over the rail was the pyjama-clad captain,\nsmoking a cigar.\n\n\u201cNow then, Harding,\u201d bawled the old trader, \u201cdon't forget to be up to\ntime, eight o'clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome aboard, and make out your order for your trade, you noisy old\n_Areoi_ devil,\u201d said Harding. \u201cYou'll 'make it out ashore,' eh? No\nfear, I won't trust you, you careless, forgetful old dog. So just lay up\nalongside, and I'll take you ashore in half an hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Jupiter, I mustn't forget the order,\u201d and Baldwin, finding he could\nnot inveigle the captain ashore just then, ran the boat alongside the\nschooner and stepped over her rail--\u201cGo on, Brice, my lad. I'll soon be\nwith you. Give him some whisky or beer, or something, Lois\u00e9, as soon as\nyou get to the house. He looks as melancholy as a ghost.\u201d\n\nAs the boat's crew pushed off from the schooner, Brice came aft to\nsteer, and placing his hand on the tiller it touched Lois\u00e9's. She moved\naside to make room for him, and he heard his name whispered, and in the\ndarkness he saw her lips part in a happy smile.\n\nThen, still silent, they were pulled ashore.\n\n*****\n\nFrom his end of the house he heard a soft footfall enter the big room,\nand then stop. She was standing by the table when, soon after, he came\nout of his room. At the sound of his footstep she turned the flame of\nthe shaded lamp to its full height, and then raised her face and looked\nat him. There was a strange, radiant expectancy in her eyes that set his\nheart to beat wildly. Then he remembered her husband--his friend.\n\n\u201cI suppose Tom won't be long,\u201d he began, nervously, when she came over\nto him and placed her hand on his sleeve. The slumbrous eyes were all\naglow now, and her bosom rose and fell in short, quick strokes beneath\nher white muslin gown.\n\n\u201cWhy did you go away?\u201d she said, her voice scarce raised above a\nwhisper, yet quivering and tremulous with emotion.\n\nHe tried to look away from her, trembling himself, and not knowing what\nto say.\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d she said, \u201cspeak to me, answer me; why don't you say something to\nme? I thought that once your eyes sought mine in the boat\u201d--then as she\nsaw him still standing awkward and silent, all her wild passion burst\nout--\u201cBrice, Brice, I love you, I love you. And you, you hate me.\u201d He\ntried to stop her.\n\nHer voice sank again. \u201cOh, yes, yes; you hate me, else why would you go\naway without one word to me? Baldwin has told you of--of--of something.\nIt is all true, quite true, and I am wicked, wicked; no woman could have\nbeen worse--and you hate me.\u201d\n\nShe released her hold upon his arm, and walking over to the window leant\nagainst it and wept passionately.\n\nHe went over to her and placed his hand upon her shoulder.\n\n\u201cLook here, Lois\u00e9, I'm very, very sorry I ever came here in the\n_Malolo_\u201d--her shaking figure seemed to shrink at the words--\u201cfor I love\nyou too, but, Lois\u00e9--your husband was my father's oldest friend--and\nmine.\u201d\n\nThe oval, tear-swept face was dangerously close to his now, and set his\nblood racing again in all the quick, hot madness of youth.\n\n\u201cWhat is that to me?\u201d she whispered; \u201cI love you.\u201d\n\nBrice shut his fists tightly and then--fatal mistake--tried to be angry\nand tender at the same moment.\n\n\u201cAh, but Lois\u00e9, you, as well as I, know that among English people, for a\nman to love his friend's wife----\u201d\n\nAgain the low whisper--\u201cWhat is that to me--and you? You love me, you\nsay. And, we are not among English people. I have my mother's heart--not\na cold English heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cLois\u00e9, Baldwin is my friend. He looks upon me as his son, and he trusts\nme--and trusts you.... I could never look him in the face again.... If\nhe were any other man I wouldn't care, or if, if----\u201d\n\nShe lifted her face from his shoulder. \u201cThen you only lied to me. You\ndon't love me!\u201d\n\nThat made him reckless. \u201cLove you! By God. I love you so that if you\nwere any other man's wife but his-------\u201d He looked steadily at her and\nthen, with gentle force, tried to take her arm from his neck.\n\nShe knew now that he was the stronger of the two, and yet wished to hear\nmore.\n\n\u201cBrice, dear Brice,\u201d she bent his head down to her lips, \u201cif Baldwin\ndied would you marry me?\u201d\n\nThe faintly murmured words struck him like a shot; she still holding her\narms around him, watched his face.\n\nHe kissed her on the lips. \u201cI would marry you and never go back to the\nworld again,\u201d he answered, in the blind passion of the moment.\n\nA hot, passionate kiss on his lips and she was gone, and Brice, with\nthrobbing pulses and shame in his heart, took up his hat and went out\nupon the beach. He couldn't meet Baldwin just then. Other men's wives\nhad never made him feel such a miserable scoundrel as did this reckless\nhalf-blood with the scarlet lips and starry eyes.\n\n*****\n\nThat night old Baldwin and the captain of the _Malolo_ got thoroughly\ndrunk in the orthodox and time-honoured Island business fashion. Brice,\nafraid of \u201cmaking an ass of himself,\u201d was glad to get away, and took\nthe captain on board at midnight in Baldwin's boat, and at the mate's\ninvitation remained for breakfast.\n\nAt daylight the mate got the _Malolo_ under weigh, the skipper, with\naching head, sitting up in his bunk and cursing the old trader's\nhospitality.\n\nWhen the vessel was well outside the reef, Brice bade him good-bye, and\ngetting his boat alongside started for the shore.\n\n\u201cI will--I must--clear out of this,\u201d he was telling himself as the boat\nswept round the point of the passage on the last sweep of the ocean\nswell. \u201cI can't stay under the same roof with him day after day, month\nafter month, and not feel my folly and her weakness. But where the deuce\nI can get to for five months till the schooner comes back, I don't know.\nThere's the Mission, but that is too close; the old fellow would only\nbring me back again in a week.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nSuddenly a strange, weird cry pealed over the water from the native\nvillage, a cry that to him was mysterious, as well as mournful and\nblood-chilling.\n\nThe four natives who pulled the boat had rested on their oars the\ninstant they heard the cry, and with alarm and deep concern depicted on\ntheir countenances were looking toward the shore.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, boys?\u201d said Brice in English.\n\nBefore the native to whom he spoke could answer, the long, loud wailing\ncry again burst forth.\n\n\u201cSome man die,\u201d said the native who pulled stroke-oar to Brice--he was\nthe only one who knew English.\n\nThen Brice, following the looks of his crew, saw that around the\nwhite paling fence that enclosed Baldwin's house was gathered a great\nconcourse of natives, most of whom were sitting on the ground.\n\n\u201cGive way, boys,\u201d he said, with an instinctive feeling of fear that\nsomething dreadful had happened. In another five minutes the boat\ntouched the sand and Brice sprang out.\n\nMaturei alone, of all the motionless, silent crowd that gathered around\nthe house, rose and walked down to him.\n\n\u201cOh, white man, T\u00e2mu is dead!\u201d\n\n*****\n\nHe felt the shock terribly, and for a moment or two was motionless and\nnerveless. Then the prolonged wailing note of grief from a thousand\nthroats again broke out and brought him to his senses, and with hasty\nstep he opened the gate and went in.\n\nWith white face and shaking limbs Lois\u00e9 met him at the door and\nendeavoured to speak, but only hollow, inarticulate sounds came from\nher lips, and sitting down on a cane sofa she covered her face with her\nrobe, after the manner of the people of the island when in the presence\nof death.\n\nPresently the door of Baldwin's room opened, and the white-haired old\npriest came out and laid his hand sympathetically on the young man's\narm, and drew him aside.\n\nHe told him all in a few words. An hour before daylight Lois\u00e9 and the\nboy Maturei had heard the old trader breathing stertorously, and ere\nthey could raise him to a sitting position he had breathed his last.\n\nHeart disease, the good Father said. And he was so careless a man, was\nM. Baldwin. And then with tears in his eyes the priest told Brice how,\nfrom the olden times when Baldwin, pretending to scoff at the efforts of\nthe missionaries, had yet ever been their best and truest friend.\n\n\u201cAnd now he is dead, M. Brice, and had I been but a little sooner I\ncould have closed his eyes. I was passing in my boat, hastening to take\nthe mission letters to the _Malolo_ when I heard the_ tagi_ (the death\nwail) of the people here, and hastening ashore found he had just passed\naway.\u201d\n\nSick at heart as he was, the young man was glad of the priest's\npresence, and presently together they went in and looked at the still\nfigure in the bedroom.\n\nWhen they returned to the front room they found Lois\u00e9 had gone.\n\n\u201cShe was afraid to stay in the house of death,\u201d said Maturei, \u201cand has\ngone to Vehaga\u201d (a village eight miles away), \u201cand these are her words\nto the Father and to the friend of T\u00e2rau--'Naught have I taken from the\nhouse of T\u00e2mu, and naught do I want'--and then she was gone.\u201d\n\nThe old priest nodded to Brice--\u201cNative blood, native blood, M. Brice.\nDo not, I pray you, misjudge her. She only does this because she knows\nthe village feeling against her. She does not belong to this island,\nand the people here resented, in a quiet way, her marriage with my old\nfriend. She is not cruel and ungrateful as you think. It is but her\nway of showing these natives that she cares not to benefit by Baldwin's\ndeath. By and by we will send for her.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nAfter Baldwin had been buried and matters arranged, Brice and the\npriest, and a colleague from the Mission, read the will, and Brice found\nhimself in possession of some two or three thousand dollars in cash and\nas much in trade. The house at Rikitea and a thousand dollars were for\nLois\u00e9.\n\nHe told the Fathers to send word over to Vehaga and tell Lois\u00e9 that\nhe only awaited her to come and take the house over from him. As for\nhimself he would gladly accept their kind invitation to remain at the\nMission as their guest till the schooner returned.\n\nThe shock of his friend's death had all but cured him of his passion,\nand he felt sure now of his own strength.\n\n*****\n\nBut day after day, and then week after week passed, and no word came\nfrom Vehaga, till one evening as he leant over the railing of the\ngarden, looking out upon the gorgeous setting of the sun into the ocean,\nMaturei came paddling across the smooth waters of the harbour, and,\ndrawing his canoe up on the beach, the boy approached the white man.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d he said, \u201cLois\u00e9 hath sent thee this.\u201d\n\nHe unrolled a packet of broad, dried palm leaves, and taking from it a\nthick necklet of sweet-smelling _kurahini_ buds, placed it in Brice's\nhand.\n\nHe knew its meaning--it was the gift of a woman to an accepted lover.\n\nThe perfume of the flowers brought back her face to him in a moment.\nThere was a brief struggle in his mind; and then home, friends, his\nfuture prospects in the great outside world, went to the wall, and the\nhalf-blood had won.\n\nSlowly he raised the token and placed it over his head and round his\nneck.\n\n*****\n\nIn the morning she came. He held out his hand and drew her to him, and\nlooking down into her eyes, he kissed her. Her lips quivered a little,\nand then the long lashes fell, and he felt her tremble.\n\n\u201cLois\u00e9,\u201d he said simply, \u201cwill you be my wife?\u201d\n\nShe glanced up at him, fearfully.\n\n\u201cWould you marry me?\u201d\n\nHis face crimsoned--\u201cYes, of course. You were his wife. I can't forget\nthat. And, besides, you said once that you loved me.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThey were very happy for five or six years down there in Rikitea. They\nhad one child born to them--a girl with a face as beautiful as her\nmother's.\n\nThen a strange and deadly epidemic, unknown to the people of Rikitea,\nswept through the Paumotu Group, from Pitcairn Island to Marutea, and\nin every village, on every palm-clad atoll, death stalked, and the brown\npeople sickened and shivered under their mat coverings, and died. And\nfrom island to island, borne on the very breath of the trade-wind, the\nterror passed, and left behind it empty, silent clusters of houses,\nnestling under the cocoanuts; and many a whale-ship beating back to the\ncoast of South America, sailed close in to the shore and waited for the\ncanoes to come off with fruit and vegetables; but none came, for the\ncanoes had long months before blistered and cracked and rotted under\nthe fierce rays of the Paumotu sun, and the owners lay dead in their\nthatched houses; for how could the dead bury the dead?\n\nIt came to Rikitea, and Harry Brice and the priests of the Mission went\nfrom village to village trying by such means as lay in their power to\nallay the deadly scourge. Brice had seen his little girl die, and then\nLois\u00e9 was smitten, and in a few days Brice saw the imprint of death\nstamped upon her features.\n\n*****\n\nAs he sat and watched by her at night, and listened to the wild,\ndelirious words of the fierce fever that held her in its cruel grasp,\nhe heard her say that which chilled his very heart's blood. At first\nhe thought it to be but the strange imaginings of her weak and fevered\nbrain. But as the night wore on he was undeceived.\n\nJust as daylight began to shoot its streaks of red and gold through\nthe plumed palm-tops, she awoke from a fitful and tortured slumber, and\nopened her eyes to gaze upon the haggard features of her husband.\n\n\u201cLois\u00e9,\u201d he said, with a choking voice, \u201ctell me, for God's sake, the\ntruth about Baldwin. _Did you kill him?_\u201d\n\nShe put her thin, wasted hands over her dark, burning eyes, and Brice\nsaw the tears run down and wet the pillow.\n\nThen she answered--\n\n\u201cYes, I killed him; for I loved you, and that night I went mad!\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cDon't go away from me, Harry,\u201d she said, with hard, panting breaths;\n\u201cdon't let me die by myself.... I will soon be dead now; come closer to\nme, I will tell you all.\u201d\n\nHe knelt beside her and listened. She told him all in a few words. As\nBaldwin lay in his drunken sleep, she and Maturei had pierced him to the\nheart with one of the long, slender, steel needles used by the natives\nin mat-making. There was no blood to be seen in the morning, Maturei was\ntoo cunning for that.\n\nBrice staggered to his feet and tried to curse her. The last grey pallor\nhad deepened on her lips, and they moved and murmured, \u201cIt was because I\nloved you, Harry.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe sun was over the tops of the cocoanuts when the gate opened, and the\nwhite-haired old priest came in and laid his hand gently on Brice who\nsat with bowed figure and hidden face.\n\n\u201cHow is your wife now, my good friend?\u201d he asked.\n\nSlowly the trader raised his face, and his voice sounded like a sob.\n\n\u201cDead; thank God!\u201d\n\nWith softened tread the old man passed through to the inner room,\nand taking the cold hands of Brice's wife tenderly within his own, he\nclasped them together and placed the emblem of Christ upon the quiet\nbosom.\n\n\n\n\nAT A KAFA-DRINKING\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nThe first cool breaths of the land breeze, chilled by its passage\nthrough the dew-laden forest, touched our cheeks softly that night as\nwe sat on the traders' verandah, facing the white, shimmering beach,\nsmoking and watching the native children at play, and listening for the\nfirst deep boom of the wooden _logo_ or bell that would send them racing\nhomewards to their parents and evening prayer.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThere it is,\u201d said our host, who sat in the farthest corner, with his\nlong legs resting by the heels on the white railing; \u201cand now you'll see\nthem scatter.\u201d\n\nThe loud cries and shrill laughter came to a sudden stop as the boom of\nthe _logo_ reached the players, and then a clear boyish voice reached\nus--\u201c_Ua ta le logo_\u201d (the bell has sounded). Like smoke before the gale\nthe lithe, half-naked figures fled silently in twos and threes between\nthe cocoanuts, and the beach lay deserted.\n\n*****\n\nOne by one the lights gleamed brightly through the trees as the women\npiled the fires in each house with broken cocoanut shells. There was but\nthe faintest breath of wind, and through the open sides of most of the\nhouses not enough to flicker the steady light, as the head of the family\nseated himself (or herself) close to the fire, and, hymn-book in hand,\nled off the singing. Quite near us was a more pretentious-looking\nstructure than the others, and looking down upon it we saw that the\ngravelled floor was covered with fine, clean mats, and arranged all\nround the sides of the house were a number of camphorwood boxes,\nalways--in a Samoan house--the outward and visible sign of a well-to-do\nman. There was no fire lighted here; placed in the centre of the one\nroom there stood a lamp with a gorgeous-looking shade, of many colours.\nThis was the chief's house, and the chief of Aleipata was one of the\nstrong men of Samoa--both politically and physically. Two of our party\non the verandah were strangers to Samoa, and they drew their chairs\nnearer, and gazed with interest at the chief and his immediate following\nas they proceeded with their simple service. There were quite a number\nof the _aua-luma_ (unmarried women) of the village present in the\nchief's house that evening, and as their tuneful voices blend in an\nevening hymn--\n\n\u201c_Matou te nau e faafetai_\u201d--we wished that instead of four verses there\nhad been ten.\n\n\u201cCan you tell us, Lester,\u201d said one of the strangers to our host, \u201cthe\nmeaning of the last words?--they came out so clearly that I believe I've\ncaught them,\u201d and to our surprise he sang the last line--\n\n     Ia matou moe tau ia te oe.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWell, now, I don't know if I can. Samoan hymns puzzle me; you see the\nlanguage used in addressing the Deity is vastly different to that used\nordinarily, but I take it that the words you so correctly repeated mean,\n'Let us sleep in peace with Thee.' Curious people these Samoans,\u201d he\nmuttered, more to himself than for us: \u201csoon be as hypocritical as the\naverage white man. 'Let us sleep in peace with Thee,' and that fellow\n(the chief), his two brothers, and about a paddockful of young Samoan\nbucks haven't slept at all for this two weeks. All the night is spent in\ncounting cartridges, melting lead for bullets, and cleaning their arms,\nonly knocking off for a drink of kava. Well, I suppose,\u201d he continued,\nturning to us, \u201cthey're all itching to fight, and as soon as the U.S.S.\n_Resacca_ leaves Apia they'll commence in earnest, and us poor devils of\ntraders will be left here doing nothing and cursing this infernal love\nof fighting, which is inborn with Samoans and a part of their natural\ncussedness which, if the Creator hadn't given it to them, would have put\nmany a dollar into my pocket.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d said a voice that came up to us from the gloom of the young\ncocoanuts' foliage at the side of the house, \u201cFelipe is here, and\nwants to know if he may come up and speak to the _alii papalagi_ (white\ngentlemen).\u201d\n\n\u201cRight you are, Felipe, my lad,\u201d said the trader in a more than usual\nkindly voice, \u201cbring him up, Atalina, and then run away to the chief's\nand get some of the _aua-luma_ to come over, with you and make a bowl of\nkava.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Doctor L------,\u201d Lester continued, addressing himself to one of\nhis guests, the surgeon of an American war vessel then stationed in\nSamoa, and a fellow-countryman of his, \u201cI'll show you as fine a specimen\nof manhood and intelligence as God ever made, although he has got a\ntanned hide.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe native that ascended the steps and stood before us with his hat in\nhis hand respectfully saluting, was indeed, as Lester called him,\n\u201ca fine specimen.\u201d Clothed only in a blue and white _lava lava_ or\nwaist-cloth, his clean-cut limbs, muscular figure, and skin like\npolished bronze, stood revealed in the full light that now flooded room\nand verandah from the lamp lit in the sitting-room. The finely-plaited\nManhiki hat held in his right hand seemed somewhat out of place with the\nrest of his attire, and was evidently not much worn. Probably Felipe had\nmerely brought it for the occasion, as a symbol to us of his superior\ntastes and ideas.\n\nHe shook hands with us all round, and then, at Lester's invitation,\nfollowed us inside, and sat down cross-legged on the mats and\ncourteously awaited us to talk to him. The American surgeon offered him\na cigar, which he politely declined, and produced from the folds of\nhis _lava lava_ a bundle of banana-leaf cigarettes, filled with strong\ntobacco. One of these, at a nod from the trader, he lit, and commenced\nto smoke.\n\n*****\n\nIn a few minutes we heard the crunching of the gravelled path under bare\nfeet, and then some three or four of the _aua-luma_--the kava-chewing\ngirls--ascended the steps and took up their position by the huge wooden\nkava bowl. As the girls, under the careful supervision of the trader's\nwife, prepared the drink, we fell into a general conversation.\n\n\u201cI wonder now,\u201d said the doctor to the trader, \u201cthat you, Lester, who,\nby your own showing, are by no means infatuated with the dreamy monotony\nof island life, can yet stay here, year after year, seeing nothing and\nhearing nothing of the world that lies outside these lonely islands.\nHave you no desire at all to go back again into the world?\u201d\n\nA faint movement--the index of some rapidly passing emotion--for a\nmoment disturbed the calm, placid features of Lester, as he answered\nquietly: \u201cNo, doctor, I don't think it's likely I'll ever see the\noutside world, as you call it, again. I've had my hopes and ambitions,\nlike every one else; but they didn't pan out as I expected,... and then\nI became Lester the Trader, and as Lester the Trader I'll die, have\na whitey-brown crowd at my funeral; and, if you came here ten years\nafterwards, the people couldn't even tell you where I was planted.\u201d\n\nThe doctor nodded. \u201cJust so. Like all native races, their affections and\nemotions are deep but transient--no better in that way than the average\nAmerican nigger.\u201d\n\nThe kava was finished now, and was handed round to us by the slender\ngraceful hands of the trader's little daughter. As Felipe, the last to\ndrink, handed back the _ipu_ to the girl, his eyes lit up, and he spoke\nto our host, addressing him, native fashion, by his Christian name, and\nspeaking in his own tongue.\n\n\u201cHow is it, Tiaki (Jack), that I hear thee tell these thy friends that\nwe of the brown skins have but shallow hearts and forget quickly? Dost\nthink that if, when thy time comes, and thou goest, that thy wife and\nchild will not grieve? Hast thou not heard of our white man who, when he\ndied, yet left his name upon our hearts?--and yet we were in those days\nheathens and followers of our own gods.\u201d\n\nThe trader nodded kindly, and turned to us. \u201cDo you want to hear a\nyarn about one of the old style of white men that used to live like\nfighting-cocks in Samoa? Felipe here has rounded on me for saying that\nhis countrymen soon forget, and has brought up this wandering _papalagi\ntafea_ (beachcomber) as an instance of how the natives will stick to a\nman once he proves himself a man.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n\u201cIt was the tenth year after the Cruel Captain with the three ships had\nanchored in Apia,{*} and when we of Aleipata were at war with the people\nof Fagaloa. In those days we had no white man in this town and longed\ngreatly to get one. But they were few in Samoa then; one was there at\nTiavea, who had fled from a man-of-war of England, one at Saluaf\u00e0ta, and\nperhaps one or two more at Tutuila or Savaii--that was all.\n\n     * Commodore Wilkes, in command of the famous United States\n     Exploring Expedition, 1836-40. He was a noted martinet, and\n     was called _Le alii Saua_ (the Cruel Captain).\n\n\u201cMy father's name was Lauati. He, with his mother, lived on the far side\nof the village, away from the rest of the houses. There were no others\nliving in the house with them, for my father's mother was very poor, and\nall day long she laboured--some-times at making mats, and sometimes at\nbeating out _siapo_ (tappa) cloth. As the mats were made, and the tappa\nwas bleached, and figures and patterns drawn upon it, she rolled them up\nand put them away overhead on the beams of the house, for she was\neaten up with poverty, and these mats and tappa cloth was she gathering\ntogether so that she might be able to pay for my father's, tattooing.\nAnd as she worked on the shore, so did my father toil on the sea, for\nalthough he was not yet tattooed he was skilled more than any other\nyouth in _sisu atu_ (bonita catching). Sometimes the chief, who was a\ngreedy man, would take all his fish and leave him none for himself to\ntake home to his house. Sometimes he would give him one, and then my\nfather would cut off a piece for his mother, and take the rest and sell\nit for taro and bread-fruit. And all this time he worked, worked with\nhis mother, so that he would have enough to pay for his tattooing, for\nto reach his age and not be tattooed is thought a disgrace.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cNow, in the chief's house was a young girl named Uluvao. She used to\nmeet my father by stealth, for the chief--who was her uncle--designed to\ngive her in marriage to a man of Siumu, who was a little chief, and had\nasked him for her. So Uluvao, who dreaded her uncle's wrath, would creep\nout at night from his house, and going down to the beach swim along\nthe shore till she came to the lonely place where my father lived. His\nmother would await her coming on the beach, and then these three would\nsit together in the house and talk. If a footstep sounded, then the\ngirl would flee, for she knew her uncle's club would soon bite into my\nfather's brain did he know of these stolen meetings.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cOne day it came about that a great _fono_ (meeting) was to be held\nat Falealili, and Tuialo, the chief, and many other chiefs, and their\n_tulafale_ or talking men, set out to cross the mountains to Falealili.\nSix days would they be away, and Uluvao and my father rejoiced, for they\ncould now meet and speak openly, for the fear of the chiefs face was\nnot before them, and the people of the village knew my father loved the\ngirl, so when they saw them together they only smiled, or else turned\ntheir faces another way. That night, in the big council house, there was\na great number of the young men and women gathered together, and they\ndanced and sang, and much kava was drunk. Presently the sister of the\nchief, who was a woman with a bitter tongue, came to the house, and\nsaw and mocked at my father, and called him a c naked wretch.' (Thou\nknowest, Tiaki, if a man be not tattooed we called him naked.)\n\n\u201c'Alas!' said my father, 'I am poor; oh, lady, how can I help it?'\n\n\u201cThe old woman's heart softened. 'Get thee out upon the sea and catch a\nfat turtle for a gift to my brother, and thou shalt be tattooed when he\nreturns,' she said.\n\n\u201cThe people laughed, for they knew that turtle were not to be caught\nat a silly woman's bidding. But my father rose up and went out into\nthe darkness towards his house. As he walked on the sand his name was\ncalled, and Uluvao ran by his side.\n\n\u201c'Lauati,' she said, 'let me come with thee. Let us hasten and get thy\ncanoe, and seek a turtle on Nu'ulua and Nu'utele, for the night is dark,\nand we may find one.'\n\n\u201cMy father took her hand, and they ran and launched the canoe.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cMy father paddled, Uluvao sat in the bow of the canoe. The night was\nvery dark, and she was frightened, for in the waters hereabout are many\n_tanifa_ the thick, short shark, that will leap out of the water and\nfall on a canoe and crush it, so that those who paddle may be thrown out\nand devoured. And as she trembled she looked out at the shore of the two\nislands, which were now close to, and said to my father, 'Lo! what is\nthis? I see a light as of a little fire.'\n\n\u201cLauati ceased to paddle and looked. And there, between the trunks of\nthe cocoanuts, he saw the faint gleam of a little fire, and something,\nas of a figure, that moved.\n\n\u201cThe girl Uluvao had a quick wisdom. 'Ah,' said she, 'perhaps it is the\nwar canoes (taumualua) from Falifa. Those dogs hath learnt that all our\nmen are gone away to Falealili to the _fono_ and they have come here to\nthe islands to eat and rest, so that they may fall upon our town when it\nis dawn, and slay us all. Let us back, ere it is too late.'\n\n\u201cBut as she spoke she looked into the water, and my father looked too;\nand they both trembled. Deep down in the blackness of the sea was it\nthat they saw--yet it quickly came nearer and nearer, like unto a great\nflame of white fire. It was a _tanlfa_. Like flashes of lightning did\nmy father dash his paddle into the water and urge the canoe to the land,\nfor he knew that when the _tanifa_ had come to the surface it would look\nand then dive, and when it came up again would spring upon and devour\nthem both.\n\n\u201c'It is better to give our heads to the men of Falifa than for us to go\ninto the belly of the shark,' he said, 'and it may be we can land, and\nthey see us not.' And so with fear gnawing at their vitals the canoe\nflew along, and the streak of fire underneath was close upon them when\nthey struck the edge of the coral and knew they were safe.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThey dragged the canoe over the reef and then got in again, and paddled\nsoftly along till they passed the light of the fire, and then they\nlanded on a little beach about a hundred _gafa_ (fathoms) away. Then\nagain Uluvao, who was a girl of wisdom, spoke.\n\n*****\n\n\u201c'Listen,' she said, 'O man of my heart. Let us creep through the bushes\nand look. It may be that these men of Falif\u00e2 are tired and weary, and\nsleep like hogs. Take thou, then, O Lauati, thy shark club and knife\nfrom the canoe, and perchance we may fall upon one that sleepest away\nfrom the rest, then shalt thou strike, and thou and I drag him away into\nthe bushes and take his head. Then, ere it is well dawn, we will be back\nin the town, and Tuialo will no longer keep me from thee, for the head\nof a Falifa man will win his heart better than a fat turtle, and I will\nbe wife to thee.'\n\n\u201cMy father was pleased at her words. So they crept like snakes along the\ndewy ground. When they came to a jagged boulder covered with vines, that\nwas near unto the fire, they looked and saw but one man, and, lo! he was\na _papalagi_--a white man. And then, until it was dawn, my father and\nthe girl hid behind the jagged rock and watched.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThe white man was sitting on the sand, with his face clasped in his\nhands. At his feet lay another man, with his white face turned up to the\nsky, and those that watched saw that he was dead. He who sat over the\ndead man was tall and thin, and his hands were like the talons of the\ngreat fish eagle, so thin and bony were they. His garments were ragged\nand old, and his feet were bare; and as my father looked at him his\nheart became pitiful, and he whispered to Uluvao, 'Let us call out. He\nis but weak, and I can master him if he springs upon me. Let us speak.'?\n\n\u201cBut Uluvao held him back. 'Nay,' she said, 'he may have a gun and\nshoot.'\n\n\u201cSo they waited till the sun rose.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThe white man stood and looked about. Then he walked down to the beach,\nand my father and the girl saw lying on the rocks a little boat. The man\nwent to the side, and put in his hand and brought out something in his\nhand, and came back and sat down again by the face of the dead. He had\ngone to the boat for food, and my father saw him place a biscuit to his\nmouth and commence to eat. But ere he swallowed any it fell from his\nhand upon the sand and he threw himself upon the body of the dead man\nand wept, and his tears ran down over the face that was cold and were\ndrank up by the sand.\n\n\u201cThen Uluvao began to weep, and my father stood up and called out to the\nwhite man _Talofa!_\n\n\u201cHe gazed at them and spoke not, but let them come close to him, and\npointing to him who lay on the sand, he covered his face with his hands\nand bowed his head. Then Lauati ran and climbed a cocoanut tree and\nbrought him two young nuts and made him drink, and Uluvao got broad\nleaves and covered over the face of the dead from the hot sun. Not\none word of our tongue could he speak, but yet from signs that he made\nLauati and the girl knew that he wished to bury the dead man. So they\ntwo dug a deep grave in the sand, far up on the bank, where it lay soft\nand deep and covered with vines. When it was finished they lifted the\ndead white man and laid him beside it. And as they looked upon him the\nother came and knelt beside it and spoke many words into the ear that\nheard not, and Uluvao wept again to see his grief. At last they laid him\nin the grave and all three threw in the sand and filled it up.\n\n\u201cThen these two took the strange white man by the hand and led him\naway into a little hut that was sometimes used by those who came to the\nisland to fish. They made him eat and then sleep, and while he slept\nthey carried up the things out of the boat and put them in the house\nbeside him.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhen the sun was high in the heavens, the white man awoke, and my\nfather took his hand and pointed to the boat, and then to the houses\nacross the sea. He bent his head and followed, and they all got into the\nboat, and hoisted the sail. When the boat came close to the passage of\nAleipata, the people ran from out their houses, and stood upon the beach\nand wondered. And Lauati and Uluvao laughed and sang, and called out:\n'Ho, ho, people! we have brought a great gift--a white man from over\nthe sea. Send word quickly to Tuialo that he may return and see this our\nwhite man,' and, as the boat touched the sand, the old woman, the sister\nof Tuialo, came up, and said to Lauati, 'Well hast thou done, O lucky\none! Better is this gift of a white man than many turtle.'\n\n\u201cThen she took the stranger to her house, and pigs and fowls were\nkilled, and yams and taro cooked, and a messenger sent to Tuialo to\nhasten back quickly, and see this gift from the gods. For they were\nquick to see that in the boat were muskets and powder and bullets, and\nall the people rejoiced, for they thought that this white man could mend\nfor them many guns that were broken and useless, and help them to fight\nagainst the men or Falifa.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cIn two days Tuialo came back, and he made much of the white man, and\nUluvao he gave to my father for wife. And for the white man were the\nsoftest mats and the best pieces of _siapo_ and he lived for nearly the\nspace of two years in the chief's house. And all this time he worked\nat making boats and mending the broken guns and muskets, and little by\nlittle the words of our tongue came to him, and he learned to tell us\nmany things. Yet at night-time he would always come to my father's house\nand sit with him and talk, and sometimes Uluvao would make kava for him\nand my father.\n\n\u201cAt about the end of the second year, there came a whaleship, and\nTuialo, and the white man, whom we called _Tui-fana,_ 'the gun-mender,'\nwent out to her, and took with them many pigs and yams to exchange for\nguns and powder. When the buying and selling was over, the captain of\nthe ship gave Tui-fana a gun with two barrels--bright was it and new,\nand Tuialo, the chief, was eaten up with envy, and begged his white man\nfor the gun, but he said: 'Nay, not now; when we are in the house we\nwill talk.'\n\n*****\n\n\u201cLike as a swarm of flies, the people gathered round the council-house\nto see the guns and the powder and the swords that had been brought from\nthe ship. And in the middle of the house sat Tui-fana with the gun with\ntwo barrels in his hand.\n\n\u201cWhen all the chiefs had come in and sat down Tuialo came. His face was\nsmiles, but his heart was full of bitterness towards Tui-fana, and as he\nspoke to the people and told them of the words that had been spoken\nby the captain of the ship, he said, 'And see this white man, this\nTui-fana, who hath grown rich among us, is as greedy as a Tongan, and\nkeepeth for himself a new gun with two barrels.'\n\n\u201cThe white stood up and spoke: 'Nay, not greedy am I. Take, O chief, all\nI have; my house, my mats, my land, and the wife thou gavest me, but yet\nwould I say, \u201cLet me keep this gun with the two barrels.\u201d'\n\n\u201cTuialo was eaten up with greed, yet was his mind set on the gun, so he\nanswered, 'Nay, that were to make thee as poor as when thou comest to\nus. Give me the gun, 'tis all I ask.'\n\n\u201c'It is not mine to give,' he answered. Then he rose and spoke to the\npeople. 'See,' said he, 'Tuialo, the chief, desires this gun, and I say\nit is not mine to give, for to Lauati did I promise such a gun a year\ngone by. This, then, will I do. Unto Tuialo will I give my land, my\nhouse, and all that is mine, but to Lauati I give the gun, for so I\npromised.'\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThen fierce looks passed between the chief and the white man, and the\npeople surged together to and fro, for they were divided, some for the\nfear of the chief, and some for the love of the white man. But most\nwere for that Lauati should keep the gun. And so Tuialo, seeing that the\npeople's hearts were against him, put on a smooth face, and came to the\nwhite man and said--\n\n\u201c'Thou art as a son to me. Lauati shall keep the gun, and thou shalt\nkeep thy house and lands. I will take nothing from thee. Let us be for\never friends.'\n\n\u201cThen the white said to the chief, 'O chief, gladly will I give thee all\nI have, but this man, Lauati, is as my brother, and I promised------'\n\n\u201cBut Tuialo put his hand on the white man's mouth, and said, 'Say no\nmore, my son; I was but angered.'\n\n*****\n\n\u201cYet see now his wickedness. For that night, when my father and Uluvao,\nmy mother, were sitting with the white man and his wife, and drinking\nkava, there suddenly sprang in upon them ten men, who stood over them\nwith clubs poised. They were the body-men of Tuialo.\n\n\u201c'Drink thy kava,' said one to the white man, 'and then come out to\ndie.'\n\n*****\n\n\u201cAh, he was a man! He took the cup of kava from the hands of his wife's\nsister, and said--\n\n\u201c'It is well. All men must die. But yet would I see Tuialo before the\nclub fells.'\n\n\u201cThe chief but waited outside, and he came.\n\n\u201c'Must I die?' said the white man.\n\n\u201c'Ay,' said Tuialo. 'Two such as thee and I cannot live at the same\ntime. Thou art almost as great a man as I.'\n\n\u201cThe white man bent his head. Then he put out his hand to my father and\nsaid, 'Farewell, O my friend.'\n\n\u201cLauati, my father, fell at the chief's feet. 'Take thou the gun, O\nchief, but spare his life.'\n\n\u201cTuialo laughed. 'The gun will I take, Lauati, but his life I must have\nalso.'\n\n\u201c'My life for his,' said my father.\n\n\u201c'And mine,' said Uluvao, my mother.\n\n\u201c'And mine also,' said Manini, the white man's wife; and both she and\nTaulaga, her sister, bent their knees to the chief.\n\n\u201cThe white man tried to spring up, but four strong men held him.\n\n\u201cThen Tuialo looked at the pair who knelt before him. He stroked his\nclub, and spoke to his body-men.\n\n\u201c'Bring them all outside.' They went together to the beach. 'Brave\ntalkers ye be,' said he; 'who now will say \u201cI die for the white man\u201d?'\n\n\u201c'Nay, heed them not, Tuialo,' said the white man. 'On me alone let the\nclub fell.'\n\n\u201cBut the chief gave him no answer, looking only at my father and the\nthree women.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201c'My life,' said Taulaga, the girl; and she knelt on the sand.\n\n\u201cThe club swung round and struck her on the side of her head, and it\nbeat it in. She fell, and died quickly.\n\n\u201c'Oho,' mocked Tuialo, 'is there but one life offered for so great a man\nas Tiufana?'\n\n\u201cLauati fell before him. 'Spare me not, O chief, if my life but saves\nhis.'\n\n\u201cAnd again the club swung, and Lauati, my Either, died too, and as he\nfell his blood mixed with that of Taulaga.\n\n\u201cAnd then Uluvao and Manini, placing some little faith in his mocking\nwords, knelt, and their blood too poured out on the ground, and the\nthree women and my father lay in a heap together.\n\n\u201cNow I, Felipe, was but a child, and when my mother had gone to kneel\nunder the club she had placed me under a _fetan_ tree near by. The\nchiefs eye fell on me, and a man took me up and carried me to him.\n\n\u201cThen the white man said, 'Hurt not the child, O chief, or I curse thee\nbefore I die, and thou wastest away.'\n\n\u201cSo Tuialo spared me.\n\n\u201cThen the chief came to the white man, and the two who held his hands\npulled them well apart, and Tuialo once more swung his blood-dyed club.\nIt fell, and the white man's head fell upon his breast.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMRS. LIARDET: A SOUTH SEA TRADING EPISODE\n\nCaptain Dave Liardet, of the trading schooner _Motutakea_, of Sydney,\nwas sitting propped up in his bunk smoking his last pipe. His very last.\nHe knew that, for the Belgian doctor-naturalist, his passenger, had just\nsaid so; and besides, one look at the gaping hole in his right side,\nthat he had got two days before at La Vandola, in the Admiralties, from\nthe broad-bladed obsidian native knife, had told him he had made his\nlast voyage. The knife-blade lay on the cabin table before him, and his\neye rested on it for a moment with a transient gleam of satisfaction as\nhe remembered how well Tommy, the Tonga boy, who pulled the bow oar, had\nsent a Snider bullet through the body of the yellow-skinned buck from\nwhom the knife-thrust had come. From the blade of obsidian on the table\nhis eye turned to the portrait of a woman in porcelain that hung just\nover the clock. It was a face fair enough to look at, and Liardet, with\na muttered curse of physical agony, leant his body forward to get a\ncloser view of it, and said, \u201cPoor little woman; it'll be darned rough\non her.\u201d Then Russell, the mate, came down.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cJoe,\u201d said Liardet, in his practical way, which even the words of the\ndoctor and the face of the clock before him could not change, \u201ccock your\nears and listen, for I haven't got much time, and you have the ship to\nlook to. I want you to tell the owners that this affair at La Vandola\nwasn't my fault. We was doing fair and square trading when a buck drives\nhis knife into me for no apparent reason beyond the simple damned fun of\nthe thing. Well, he's done for me, and Tommy Tonga for him, and that's\nall you've got to say about that. Next thing is to ask 'em to sling\nTommy a fiver over and above his wages--for saving of the boat and\ntrade, mind, Joe. Don't say for potting the nigger, Joe; boat and trade,\nboat and trade, that's the tack to go on with owners, Joe. Well, let's\nsee now.... My old woman. See she gets fair play, wages up to date of\ndeath, eh, Joe? By God, old man, she won't get much of a cheque--only\nfour months out now from Sydney. Look here, Joe, the Belgian's all\nright. He won't go telling tales. So don't you log me dead for another\nmonth, and make as bad a passage as you can. There's only us three white\nmen aboard, and the native boys will take their Bible oath I didn't die\nuntil the ship was off Lord Howe Island if you give 'em a box of\ntobacco. You see, Joe? That's the dodge. More days, more dollars, and\nthe longer you keep the ship at sea the more money comes to all hands.\nAnd I know I can trust you, Joe, to lend a hand in making the old\nwoman's cheque a little bigger. Right.... We've been two years together\nnow, Joe, and this is the only thing I've ever asked you to do or done\nmyself that wasn't square and aboveboard. But look here\u201d--here, for some\nhalf-minute, Captain Dave Liardet launched into profanity--\u201cI tell you\nthat the owners of this ship wouldn't care a single curse if you and I\nand every living soul aboard had had our livers cut out at La Vandola as\nlong as _they_ didn't lose money over it, and haven't to pay our wages\nto our wives and children.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nLiardet gasped and choked, and the little Belgian naturalist tripped\ndown and wiped away the dark stream that began to trickle down the\ngrizzled beard, and then he and Russell, the mate, laid him down again.\n\n\u201cDon't go,\u201d whispered the Belgian to the other, \u201che sink ver' fast now.\u201d\n The closed eyelids opened a little and looked up through the skylight\nat the brown face of Tommy the Tongan, and then Russell gave the dying\nskipper brandy and water. Then, with fast-fading eyes on the picture in\nporcelain, he asked Russell what course he was keeping.\n\n\u201cAs near south as can be,\u201d said the mate, \u201cbut with this breeze we could\nsoon make the Great Barrier, and there's always hope, cap'n. Let me keep\nher away to the westward a bit, and who knows but you may----\u201d\n\nFor answer the grizzled Liardet held out his hand, shook his head\nfaintly, and muttering, \u201cI hope to God it'll come on a Hell of a Calm\nfor a Month of Sundays,\u201d he turned his face to the port and went over\n_his_ Great Barrier.\n\n***** Every one was \u201c_so_ sorry for poor little Mrs. Liardet.\u201d She\nwas so young to be a widow, \u201cand having no children, my dear, the poor\ncreature must have felt the shock the more keenly.\u201d Thus the local\ngabble of the acquaintances and friends of the pretty widow. And she\nlaughed softly to herself that she couldn't feel overwhelmed with grief\nat her widowhood. \u201cHe hadn't a thought above making money,\u201d she said to\nherself--oh, Nell Liardet, for whom did he desire to make it!--\u201cand yet\nnever could make it.\u201d And then she thought of Russell, and smiled again.\nHis hand had trembled when it held hers. Surely he did not come so often\nto see her merely to talk of rough, old Dave Liardet. A man whom she had\nonly tolerated--never loved. And then, Russell was a big, handsome\nman; and she liked big, handsome men. Also, he was captain now. And, of\ncourse, when he had told her of that rich patch of pearl-shell, that he\nalone knew of at Caille Harbour, in which was a small fortune, and had\nlooked so intently into her blue eyes, he had meant that it was for her.\n\u201cYes,\u201d and she smiled again, \u201cI'm sure he loves me. But he's terribly\nslow; and although I do believe that blonde young widows look 'fetching'\nin black, I'm getting sick of it, and wish he'd marry me to-morrow.\u201d\n\nRussell had stood to his compact with the dead skipper. The owners had\ngiven her \u00a3150, and Russell, making up a plausible story to his dead\ncaptain's wife of Liardet having in bygone days lent him \u201cfifty pounds,\u201d\n had added that sum to the other. And he meant, for the sake of old Dave,\nnever to let his pretty little widow run short as long as he had a shot\nin the locker. The patch of shell at Caille he meant to work, and if\nDave had lived they would have \u201cgone whacks.\u201d But as he was dead, he\nwouldn't do any mean thing. She should have half of whatever he got--\u201cgo\nwhacks\u201d just the same. But as for love, it never entered his honest\nbrain, and had any one told him that Nell Liardet was fond of him, he\nwould have called him a liar and \u201cplugged\u201d him for insulting a lady.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cGoing away! Mr. Russell--Joe! Surely you won't go and leave me without\na friend in the world? I thought you cared for me more than that?\u201d\n\nThe big man reddened up to his temples.\n\n\u201cDon't say that, Mrs. Liardet. If you'll allow me, I'll always be a\nfriend. And, as I thought it would be hard for you to have to spend the\nlittle that Liardet left you, I have made arrangements for you to draw\na few pounds whenever you need it from the agents. And as long as ever I\nhave a pound in the world, Dave Liardet's wife----\u201d\n\n\u201cWife!\u201d and the blue eyes flashed angrily. \u201cHe is dead and I am free.\nWhy do you always talk of him? I hate the name. I hated him--a coarse,\nmoney-loving----\u201d\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d\n\nRussell stepped forward. \u201cGood-bye, Mrs. Liardet. I hold to what I have\nsaid. But the man that you call coarse and money-loving died in trying\nto make it for you. And he was a good, honest man, and I can't stay here\nand hear his memory abused by the woman he loved better than life.\u201d And\nthen he turned to go, but stopped, and, with a scarlet face, said, \u201cOf\ncourse you're a lady and wouldn't do anything not right and straight, so\nI know that if you intend to marry again you'll send me word; but if you\ndon't, why, of course, I'll be proud and glad to stand by you in money\nmatters. I'm sure poor Dave would have done the same for my wife if I\nhad got that knife into me instead of him.\u201d\n\nNell Liardet, sitting with clenched hands and set teeth, said, in a\nhoarse voice, \u201cYour wife! Are you married?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell--er--yes, oh, yes. I have a--er--native wife at the Anchorites.\nPoor old Dave stood godfather to one of my little girls. God knows how\nanxious I am to get back to her.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Good_ bye, Mr. Russell!\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\nKENNEDY THE BOATSTEERER\n\nSteering north-west from Samoa for six or seven hundred miles you will\nsight the Ellice Group--low-lying, palm-clad coral atolls fringed on the\nlee with shimmering sandy beaches. On the weather-side, exposed to the\nlong sweep of the ocean-rollers, there are but short, black-looking\nreefs backed by irregular piles of loose, flat, sea-worn coral, thrown\nup and accumulating till its surface is brushed by the pendant leaves of\nthe cocoanuts, only to be washed and swirled back seawards when the wind\ncomes from the westward and sends a fierce sweeping current along the\nwhite beaches and black coral rocks alike.\n\n*****\n\nTwenty-three years ago these islands were almost unknown to any one save\na few wandering traders and the ubiquitous New Bedford whaler. But now,\nlong ere you can see from the ship's deck the snowy tumble of the surf\non the reef, a huge white mass, grim, square, and ugly, will meet your\neye--whitewashed walls of a distressful ghastliness accentuated by doors\nand windows of the deadliest black. This cheerful excrescence on the\nface of suffering nature is a native church.\n\nThe people have mostly assimilated themselves, in their manners and\nmode of life generally, to the new order of things represented by the\nfearful-looking structure aforementioned. That is to say, even as the\nTongan and Fijian, they have degenerated from a fierce, hardy, warlike\nrace into white-shirted, black-coated saints, whose ideal of a lovely\nexistence is to have public prayer twice a day on week-days and all day\non Sundays. To them it is a good thing to get half a dollar from the\nwhite trader for a sick fowl--which, when bought, will be claimed by\nanother native, who will have the white man fined two dollars for\nbuying stolen property. Had the white man paid a dollar he had done\nwisely--that coin sometimes goes far in the Tokelaus. For instance, the\ntruly unctuous native Christian may ask a dollar for two fowls, but\nhe will also lease out his wife for a similar amount. Time was, in the\nEllices, when the undue complaisance of a married woman meant a sudden\nand inartistic compression of the jugular, or a swift blow from\nthe heavy, ebony-wood club of the wronged man. Nowadays, since the\nsmug-faced native teacher hath shown them the Right Way, such domestic\ntroubles are condoned by--a dollar. That is, if it be a genuine American\ndollar or two British florins; for outraged honour would not accept the\ncast-iron Bolivian money or the poor silver of Chili and Peru. And for a\ndollar the native \u201cChristian\u201d can all but pay for a nicely-bound Bible,\nprinted in the Samoan tongue, and thus, no doubt, out of evil would come\ngood; for he could, by means of his newly-acquired purchase, picture to\nhis dusky mate the terrors that await those who look upon strange men\nand _tupe fa'apupula_ (bright and shining money).\n\n*****\n\nBut I want to tell about Kennedy. Kennedy the Boatsteerer he was called;\nalthough twenty years had passed and gone since that day at Wallis\nIsland when he, a bright-eyed, bronze-faced lad--with the fighting-blood\nof the old Puritan Endicotts running like fire through his veins despite\nhis New England bringing-up--ran his knife into a shipmate's heart and\nfled for ever from all white associations. Over a woman it was, and only\na copper-coloured one at that; but then she was young and beautiful,\nwith dreamy, glistening eyes, and black, wavy hair, ornamented with a\nwreath of orange-flowers and coil upon coil of bright-hued _se\u00e3 se\u00e3_\nberries strung together, hanging from her neck and resting upon her\ndainty bosom.\n\n*****\n\nStanding at the doorway of his house, looking over the placid waters\nat the rising sun, Kennedy folds his brawny arms across his bare,\nsun-tanned chest and mutters to himself, in his almost forgotten\nmother-tongue: \u201cTwenty years, twenty years ago! Who would know me there\nnow? Even if I placarded my name on my back and what I did, 'taint\nlikely I'd have to face a grand jury for running a knife into a mongrel\nPortuguee, way out in the South Seas a score of years ago.... Poor\nlittle Talam\u00e3lu! I paid a big price for her--twenty years of wandering\nfrom Wallis Island to the Bonins; and wherever I go that infernal story\nfollows me up. Well, I'll risk it anyhow, and the first chance that\ncomes along I'll cut Kanaka life and drinking ship's rum and go see\nold dad and mum to home. Here, Tikena, you Tokelau devil, bring me my\ntoddy.\u201d\n\nA native, clad in his grass _titi_, takes from a wooden peg in the house\nwall two shells of toddy, and the white wanderer takes one and drinks.\nHe is about to return the other to the man when two girls come up from\nthe beach with their arms around each other's waists, Tahiti fashion,\nand one calls out with a laugh to \u201cleave some in the shell.\u201d This is\nLaumanu, and if there is one thing in the world that Jake Kennedy cares\nfor above himself it is this tall girl with the soft eyes and lithe\nfigure. And he dreams of her pretty often, and curses fluently to think\nthat she is beyond his reach and is never likely to fill the place of\nTalam\u00e3lu and her many successors. For Laumanu is _tabu_ to a Nuitao\nchief--that is, she has been betrothed, but the Nuitao man is sixty\nmiles away at his own island, and no one knows when he will claim his\n_avaga_. Then the girl gives him back the empty toddy-shell, and, slyly\npinching his hand, sails away with her mate, whereupon the susceptible\nKennedy, furious with long disappointment, flings himself down on his\nbed of mats, curses his luck and his unsuspecting rival at Nuitao, and\nfinally decides not to spring a surprise on \u201cdad and mum\u201d by going \u201chum\u201d\n for a considerable number of years to come.\n\n*****\n\nMr. Jake Kennedy at this time was again a widower--in the widest sense\nof the word. The last native girl who had occupied the proud position of\n_Te avaga te papalagi_ (the white man's wife) was a native of the\nisland of Maraki--a dark-skinned, passionately jealous creature, who had\nfollowed his fortunes for three years to his present location, and then\ndeveloped _mal-du-pays_ to such an extent that the local priest and\ndevil-catcher, one Pare-vaka, was sent for by her female attendants.\nPare-vaka was not long in making his diagnosis. A little devil in the\nshape of an octopus was in Tene-napa's brain. And he gave instructions\nhow to get the fiend out, and also further instructions to one of the\ngirl attendants to fix, point-upwards, in the sick woman's mat the\n_foto_, or barb of the sting-ray. So when Kennedy, who, in his rough,\ncareless way, had some feint fondness for the woman who three years\nago he went mad over, heard a loud cry in the night and was told that\nTenenapa was dead, he did not know that as the sick woman lay on her\nside the watchers had quietly turned her with her face to the roof,\nand with the needle pointed _foto_ pierced her to the heart. And old\nPare-vaka rejoiced, for he had a daughter who, in his opinion, should\nbe _avaga_ to the wealthy and clever white man, who could _tori nui_ and\n_sisi atu_ (pull cocoanuts and catch bonito) like any native; and this\nTenenapa--who was she but a dog-eating stranger from Maraki only fit\nfor shark's meat? So the people came and brought Kennedy the \u201cgifts of\naffliction\u201d to show their sympathy, and asked him to take a wife from\ntheir own people. And he asked for Laumanu.\n\n*****\n\nThere was a dead silence awhile, and then a wild-looking creature with\nlong white hair falling around his shoulders like a cloak, dreading to\nshame the _papalagi_ before so many, rose to his feet and motioned them\naway. Then he spoke: \u201cForget the words you have said, and take for a\nwife the girl from the house of Pare-vaka. Laumanu is _tabu_ and death\nwalks behind her.\u201d But Kennedy sulked and wanted Laumanu or none.\n\nAnd this is why he feels so bad to-day, and the rum-keg gives him no\nconsolation. For the sweet-voiced Laumanu always runs away from him\nwhen he steps out from his dark little trade-room into the light,\nwith unsteady steps and a peculiar gleam in his black eye, that means\nmischief--rude love to a woman and challenge to fight to a man.\n\nLying there on his mat, plotting how to get possession of the girl,\nthere comes to him a faint cry, gradually swelling in volume until every\nvoice in the village, from the full, sonorous tones of the men to the\nshrill treble of the children, blend together: \u201c_Te vaka motul! Te vaka\nmotu!_\u201d (a ship! a ship!). Springing up, he strides out, and there,\nslowly lumbering round the south-west end of the little island, under\ncruising canvas only, he sees her. One quick glance shows her to be a\nwhaler.\n\nIn ten minutes Kennedy is in a canoe, flying over the reef, and in as\nmany more alongside and on deck. The captain is an old acquaintance, and\nwhile the boats are sent ashore to buy pigs and poultry, Kennedy and\nhe have a long talk in the cabin. Then the skipper says, as he rises,\n\u201cWell, it's risky, but it's a smart way of earning five hundred dollars,\nand I'll land you and the creature somewhere in the Carolines.\u201d\n\nThe whaler was to lie off and on all night, or until such time as\nKennedy and the girl came aboard in a canoe. To avert suspicion, the\ncaptain was to remain ashore with his boat's crew to witness a dance,\nand, if all went well, the white man was to be aboard before him with\nLaumanu and stow her away, in case any canoes came off with the boat.\n\n*****\n\nThe dance was in full swing when Kennedy, stripped to the waist, with\na heavy bag of money in his left hand and a knife in his right, took\na long farewell of his house and stepped out into the silent groves of\ncoco-palms. A short walk brought him to a salt lagoon. On the brink he\nstood and waited, until a trembling, voiceless figure joined him from\nout the depths of the thick mangroves. Hand-in-hand they fled along\nthe narrow, sandy path till they reached the beach, just where a few\nuntenanted thatched huts stood on the shingle. Between these, covered\nover with cocoanut branches, lay a canoe. Deftly the two raised the\nlight craft and carried it down to the water that broke in tender,\nrippling murmurs on the white sand. And with Laumanu seated for'ard,\ngazing out beyond into the blackness before them, he urged the canoe\nseawards with quick, nervous strokes. Far away to the westward he could\nsee the dull glimmer of the whaleship's lights.\n\n*****\n\nThe mate of the _Essex_ was leaning over the rail, drowsily watching\nthe phosphorescence in the water as the ship rolled gently to the ocean\nswell, when a cry came from for'ard: \u201cA heavy squall coming down, sir,\nfrom the land!\u201d And it did come, with a swift, fierce rush, and so\nstrong that it nearly threw the old whaler over on her beam-ends. In\nthe midst of the hum and roar of the squall some one in the waist of\nthe ship called out something about a canoe being alongside. The mate's\ncomment was brief but vigorous, and the matter was speedily forgotten.\nThen the rain fell in torrents, and as the ship was made snug the watch\ngot under shelter and the mate went below to get a drink of rum, and\ncurse his captain for loafing ashore, watching naked women dancing.\n\n***** Three miles further out a canoe was drifting and tossing about\nwith outrigger carried away. Now and then, as a big sea lifted her, the\nstern would rise high out of the water and the sharp-nosed whaleback\nfor'ard go down as if weighted heavily. And it was--with a bag of\ndollars lashed underneath. When in the early morning the whaleship\nsighted the drifting speck, floating on the bosom of a now placid sea,\nthe thoughtful Down-East skipper--observant of the canoe's bows being\nunder water--lowered a boat and pulled over to it. He took the bag of\ndollars and muttering something about \u201crather thinking he was kinder\nacquainted with the poor man's people,\u201d went back to the ship and stood\naway on his course in pursuit of his greasy vocation.\n\n*****\n\nAnd Kennedy and the girl! Go some night and watch the dark-skinned\npeople catching flying-fish by the light of _au lama_ torches. Look over\nthe side of the canoe and see those swarms of grim, grey devils of the\ntropic seas that ever and anon dart to the surface as the paddlers'\nhands come perilously near the water, and wonder no longer as to the\nfete of Kennedy the Boatsteerer and his Laumanu.\n\n\n\n\nA DEAD LOSS\n\nDenison, the supercargo of the _Indiana_, was sent by his \u201cowners\u201d to an\nisland in the S.W. Pacific where they had a trading business, the man\nin charge or which had, it was believed, got into trouble by shooting\na native. His instructions were to investigate the rumour, and, if\nthe business was suffering in any way, to take away the trader and put\nanother man in his place. The incident here related is well within the\nmemory of some very worthy men who still dwell under the roofs of thatch\nin the Western Pacific.\n\n*****\n\nThe name of the island was--well, say Nukupapau.\n\nThe _Indiana_ sailed from Auckland in December, and made a smart run\ntill the blue peaks of Tutuila were sighted, when the trades foiled\nand heavy weather came on from the westward. Up to this time Denison's\nduties as supercargo had kept him busy in the trade-room, and he had had\nno time to study his new captain, for, although they met at table three\ntimes a day, beyond a few civilities they had done no talking. Captain\nChaplin was young--about thirty--and one of the most taciturn persons\nDenison had ever met. The mate, who, having served the owners for about\ntwenty years, felt himself privileged, one night at supper asked him\npoint-blank, in his Irish fashion _apropos_ of nothing: \u201cAn' phwat part\nav the wurruld may yez come from, captain?\u201d\n\nThere were but the five of them present--the skipper, two mates,\nboatswain, and Denison. Laying down his knife and fork and stirring his\ntea, he fixed his eyes coldly on the inquisitive sub's face.\n\n\u201cFrom the same God-forsaken hole as you do, sir--Ireland. My name isn't\nChaplin, but as I'm the captain of this rotten old hooker I want you to\nunderstand that if you ask me another such d------d impertinent question\nyou'll find it a risky business for you--or any one else!\u201d\n\nThe quick blood mounted up to the old mate's forehead, and it looked\nlike as if a fight was coming, but the captain had resumed his supper\nand the matter ended. But it showed us that he meant to keep to himself.\n\n*****\n\nThe _Indiana_ made the low-lying atoll at last and lay-to outside. Those\non board could see the trader's house close to, but instead of being\nsurrounded by a swarm of eager and excited natives there was not one\nto be seen. Nor could they even see a canoe coming off. Denison pointed\nthis out to the captain. Although of an evidently savage and morose\ntemperament he was always pleasant enough to Denison in his capacity\nof supercargo, and inquired of him if he thought the trader had been\nkilled.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d Denison said, \u201cI don't think the people here would ever kill\nMartin; but something is wrong. He has not hoisted his flag, and that is\nvery queer. I can see no natives about his place--which also is curious;\nand the village just there seems to be deserted. If you will lower the\nboat I'll soon see what's wrong.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe skipper called out to lower the whaleboat, put four Rotumah boys in\nher, and then offered to accompany the supercargo. As he was a new man,\nDenison naturally was surprised at his wanting to leave his ship at a\nstrange place.\n\n\u201cGlad enough,\u201d he said, \u201cthe landing here is beastly--lucky if we escape\ngetting stove-in going over the reef. Martin knows the passage well and\ntackles it in any surf--wish he were here now!\u201d\n\nCaptain Chaplin soon took that off his mind. Unconsciously Denison gave\nhim the steer-oar, and in a few minutes they were flying over the reef\nat a half-tide, and never touched anywhere.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said Denison, \u201cyou seem to know the place.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d he answered, quietly, \u201cknow it well, and know Martin, too.\nYou'll find him drunk.\u201d\n\nThey walked up the white path of broken coral and stood in the doorway\nof the big front room. At the far end, on a native sofa, lay Martin; by\nhis side sat a young native girl fanning him. No one else.\n\nThe gaunt black-whiskered trader tried to rise, but with a varied string\nof oaths lashed together he fell back, waving his hand to Denison in\nrecognition. The girl was not a native of the island--that could be seen\nat a glance. She was as handsome as a picture, and after giving the two\nwhite men a dignified greeting, in the Yap (Caroline Islands) dialect,\nshe resumed her fanning and smoking her cigarette.\n\n\u201cMartin,\u201d said the supercargo, \u201cshake yourself together. What is the\nmatter? Are you sick, or is it only the usual drunk?\u201d\n\n\u201cBoth,\u201d came in tones that sounded as if his inside were lined with\ncotton wool; \u201cgot a knife in my ribs six months back; never got well;\nand I've been drinking all the time \u201c--and then, with a silly smile of\nchildish vanity, \u201call over _her_. She's my new girl--wot d'ye think of\nher? Ain't she a star?\u201d\n\n*****\n\nAll this time Chaplin stood back until Denison called him up and said to\nthe trader, \u201cOur new captain, Martin!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy God,\u201d said the trader, slowly, \u201cif he ain't the image of that ------\nnigger-catching skipper that was here from Honolulu four years ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat's me!\u201d said Chaplin, coolly puffing away at his cigar, and taking\na seat near the sofa, with one swift glance of admiration at the face of\nthe girl.\n\nIn a few minutes Martin told his troubles. Some seven months previously\na ship had called at the island. He boarded her. She was a whaler making\nsouth to the Kermadecs \u201csperming.\u201d The captain told Martin he had come\nthrough the Pelews and picked up a big canoe with a chiefs retinue on\nboard, nearly dead from starvation. Many of them did die on board. Among\nthose left were two women, the wife and daughter of the chief--who was\nthe first to die. Making a long story short, Martin gave the captain\ntrade and cash to the tune of five hundred dollars for the two women,\nand came ashore. Pensioning off his other wife, he took the young girl\nhimself and sold the mother to the local chief for a ton of copra.\n\nA week afterwards a young native came outside his house, cutlass in\nhand. He was a brother of the dismissed wife and meant fighting. Martin\ndarted out, his new love standing calmly in the doorway, smoking. There\nwas a shot, and the native fell with a bullet through his chest, but\nraising his voice he called to others and flung them his cutlass; and\nthen Martin found himself struggling with two or three more and got a\nfearful stab. That night the head men of the village came to him and\nsaid that as he had always been a good man to them they would not kill\nhim, but they then and there tabooed him till he either killed his new\nwife or sent her away. And when he looked out in the morning he saw the\nwhole village going away in canoes to the other side of the lagoon. For\nsix months neither he nor the girl--Lunumala was her name--had spoken to\na native. And Martin gave himself up to love and drink, and, since the\n_fracas_ had not done a cent's worth of trading.\n\nDenison told Martin his instructions. He only nodded, and said something\nto the girl, who rose and brought the supercargo his books. A few\nminutes' looking through them, and then at his well-filled trade-room,\nshowed Denison that everything was right, except that all the liquor was\ngone.\n\n\u201cMartin,\u201d the supercargo said, \u201cthis won't do. I've got another man\naboard, and I'll put him here and take you to Rotumah.\u201d\n\nBut he swore violently. He couldn't go anywhere else. This island was\nhis home. The natives would give in some day. He'd rather cut his throat\nthan leave.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Denison, calmly, \u201cit's one of two things. You know as well\nas I do that a _tabu_ like this is a serious business. I know you are the\nbest man for the place; but, if you won't leave, why not send the girl\naway?\u201d\n\nNo, he wouldn't send her away. She should stay too.\n\n\u201cAll serene,\u201d said the man of business. \u201cThen I'll take stock at once,\nand we'll square up and I'll land the other man.\u201d\n\nThis was a crusher for poor Martin. Denison felt sorry for him, and had\na hard duty to carry through.\n\nPresently the sick man with a ten-ton oath groaned, \u201c------ you, Mister\nSkipper, wot are you a-doin' of there, squeezin' my wife's hand?\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWell, now,\u201d said the captain, quietly, \u201clook here, Martin. Just put\nthis in your thick head and think it out in five minutes. You've either\ngot to give up this girl or get away from the island. Now, I don't want\nto make any man feel mean, but she don't particularly care about you,\nand----\u201d\n\nThe graceful creature nodded her approval or Chaplin's remarks, and\nMartin glared at her. Then he took a drink of gin and meditated.\n\nTwo minutes passed. Then Martin turned.\n\n\u201cHow much?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cFifty pounds, sonny. Two hundred and fifty dollars.\u201d\n\n\u201cEasy to see you've been in the business,\u201d mumbled Martin; \u201cwhy, her\nmother's worth that. 'Tain't no deal.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, how much _do_ you want?\u201d\n\n\u201cA hundred.\u201d\n\n\u201cHaven't got it on board, sonny. Take eighty sovereigns and the rest in\ntrade or liquor?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt's a deal,\u201d said Martin; \u201care you game to part ten sovereigns for the\ngirl's mother, and I'll get her back from the natives!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Chaplin, rising \\ \u201cthe girl's enough for me.\u201d\n\nShe had risen and was looking at Martin with a pallid face and set\nteeth, and then without a word of farewell on either side she picked\nup a Panama hat and, fan in hand, walked down to the boat and got in,\nwaiting for Chaplin.\n\n*****\n\nPresently he came down, and said, \u201cWell, Mr. Denison, I suppose, as\nmatters are arranged, you'll want to land Martin some trade?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d said Denison, \u201che's got plenty. This _tabu_ on his own\nbusiness will teach him a lesson. But I want to send him some provisions\non shore. By the way, captain, that girl's likely to prove expensive to\nyou. I hope you'll put her ashore at Rotumah till the voyage is nearly\nover.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said he, \u201cI won't. Of course, I know our godly owners would raise\na deuce of a row about my buying the girl if I couldn't pay for her\nkeep while she's on board, but I've got a couple of hundred pounds in\nAuckland, as they know, besides some cash on board. After I've paid that\nthundering blackguard I've still some left, and I mean to put her ashore\nat Levuka to live until I can take her to her destination.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d Denison queried, \u201cwhat are you going to do with her?\u201d\n\n\u201cJust this: there's a friend of mine in Honolulu always willing to give\na few thousand dollars for a really handsome girl. And I believe that\ngirl will bring me nearly about three thousand dollars.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nFor three months the girl remained on board, grave, dignified, and\nalways self-possessed. Chaplin treated her kindly, and it was evident\nto all on board that the girl had given him such affection as she was\ncapable of, and little knew his intentions regarding her future. With\nboth Chaplin and Denison she would now converse freely in the Pelew\nIsland dialect. And often pointing to the sinking sun she would\nsigh--\u201cThere is my land over there behind the sun. When will we get\nthere?\u201d Laying her hand on Chaplin's she would seek for an answer. And\nhe would answer--nothing.\n\n*****\n\nAfter the _Indiana_ had cruised through the Line Islands she headed\nback for Rotumah and Fiji. The girl came up on deck after supper. It\nwas blowing freshly and the barque was slipping through the water fast.\nLunumala walked to the binnacle and looked at the compass, pointing to\nS.S.W. She gazed steadily at it awhile and then said to the Rotumah boy\nin his own tongue--\u201cWhy is the ship going to the South?\u201d\n\nTom, the Rotuman, grinned--\u201cTo Fiji, my white tropic bird.\u201d\n\nJust then Chaplin came on deck, cigar in mouth. The girl and he looked\nat each other. He knew by her white, set face that mischief was brewing.\n\nPointing, with her left hand, to the compass, she said, in a low voice--\n\n\u201cTo Fiji?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Chaplin, coolly, \u201cto Fiji, where you must remain awhile,\nLunumala.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is my business. Question me no more now. Go below and turn in.\u201d\n\nStanding there before him, she looked again in his hard, unrelenting\nface. Then she slowly walked forward.\n\n\u201cSulky,\u201d said Chaplin to Denison.\n\nSteadily she walked along the deck, and then mounted to the to'gallant\nfo'c's'le and stood a second or two by the cathead. Her white dress\nflapped and clung to her slender figure as she turned and looked aft at\nus, and her long, black hair streamed out like a pall of death. Suddenly\nshe sprang over.\n\nWith a curse Chaplin rushed to the wheel, and in double-quick time\nthe whaleboat was lowered and search was made. In half an hour Chaplin\nreturned, and gaining the deck said, in his usual cool way, to the mate:\n\u201cHoist in the boat and fill away again as quick as possible.\u201d Then he\nwent below.\n\nA few minutes afterwards he was at his accustomed amusement, making\ntortoise-shell ornaments with a fret-saw.\n\n\u201cA sad end to the poor girl's life,\u201d said the supercargo.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the methodical ex-Honolulu black-birder, \u201cand a sad end to\nmy lovely five hundred dollars.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nHICKSON: A HALF-CASTE\n\n\u201cMauki\u201d Hickson and I were coming across from the big native town at\nMulinu'u Point to Apia one afternoon when we met a dainty little white\nwoman, garmented in spotless white. Hickson, touching his hat, walked on\nacross the narrow bridge that crosses the creek by the French Mission,\nand waited for me on the other side.\n\nThis tiny lady in white was a lovable little creature. There was not a\nman in Samoa but felt proud and pleased if she stopped and spoke to him.\nAnd she could go anywhere on the beach, from respectable Matautu right\ndown to riotous, dissolute Matafele, and make her purchases at the big\nstore of Der Deutsche Handels Plantagen und Sud See Inseln Gesellschaft\nwithout even a drunken native daring to look at her. That was because\nevery one, dissolute native and licentious white, knew she was a good\nwoman. Perhaps, had she been married, and had she had a yellow, tallowy\nskin and the generally acidulated appearance peculiar to white women\nlong resident in the South Seas, we wouldn't have thought so much of\nher, and felt mean and contemptible when she taxed us in her open,\ninnocent fashion with doing those things that we ought not have done.\nBut she had a sweet, merry little face, set about with dimples, and soft\ncheeks hued like the first flush of a ripening peach; and when she spoke\nto us she brought back memories of other faces like hers--far-away faces\nthat most of us would have liked to have seen again.\n\n*****\n\nJust by the low stone wall, that in those days came close down to the\ncreek, the little lady stood under the shade of some cocoanuts, and\nspoke to me.\n\n\u201cWho is that horrible, sulky-looking half-caste?\u201d she said, jerking her\nsunshade towards my late companion.\n\n\u201cThat is Hickson, Miss Milly,\u201d I said--a very decent, steady fellow,\nwith a white man's heart.\n\n\u201cDecent! steady! and with a white man's heart!\u201d and Miss Milly's\npink-and-white cheeks reddened angrily. \u201cHow I hate that expression!\nNo wonder all sorts of horrible things happen in these dreadful islands\nwhen white men will walk down the road with a cruel, remorseless wretch\nlike Hickson--the man that murdered his sister.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou should not say that, Miss Milly,\u201d I said. \u201cOf course that is the\ncommon report, spread about by the captain of the German brig----. But\nthat is because Hickson nearly killed him for calling him a nigger. And\nyou must remember, Miss Milly, that I was there at the time. Hickson\nwas our second mate. His sister was killed, but it is a cruel thing to\naccuse him of murdering her; he was very fond of her.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh dear! I am so glad to hear some one say it isn't true,\u201d and the\nbright eyes filled. \u201cThey say, too, she was such a pretty little thing.\nHow ever did she get to such a terrible place as Ponape? Come up and see\nuncle and me before you go away again. Good-bye now, I'm going to buy a\nwater-bag at Goddeffroy's.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nI think that Hickson must have guessed that he had formed the subject\nof the conversation between the little lady and myself, for after we had\nwalked on a bit he said, suddenly--\n\n\u201cI think I'll go aboard the _Menchikoff_ and ship; she wants some hands,\nand I would like to clear out of this. Except two or three that have\nknown me for a long time, like yourself, every one looks crooked at me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think you are right, Hickson, in going away. Samoa is a bad place\nfor an idle man. But won't you come another trip with us The old man{*}\nthinks a lot of you, and there's always a second mate's berth for you\nwith him.\u201d\n\n     * The \u201cold man,\u201d i.e., the captain.\n\nHickson's eyes flashed fire. \u201cNo! I'd as lief go to hell as ship again\nwith a man that once put me in irons, and disgraced me before a lot of\nKanakas. I've got White Blood enough in me to make me remember that.\nGood-bye,\u201d and he shook hands with me; \u201cI'll wait here till the\n_Menchikoff's_ boat comes ashore and go off and see Bannister.\u201d\n\nPoor Hickson. He was proud of his White Blood, and the incident he\nalluded to was a bitter memory to him. Could he ever forget it? I never\ncould, and thought of it as I was being pulled off on board.\n\n*****\n\nIt was at Jakoits Harbour--in Ponape--that it happened. Hickson and I\nwere going ashore in the long boat to buy a load of yams for our native\ncrew, when he began to tell me something of his former life.\n\nHis had been a strange and chequered career, and in his wanderings as\na trader and as a boatsteerer in a Hobart Town whaler, he had traversed\nevery league of the wide Pacific. With his father and two sisters he\nhad, till a few years or so before he joined us, been trading at Yap, in\nthe Western Carolines. Here the wandering old white man had died. Of his\ntwo sisters, one, the eldest, had perished with her sailor husband by\nthe capsizing of a schooner which he commanded. The youngest, then\nabout nine years old, was taken care of by the captain of a whaler that\ntouched at Yap, until he placed her in charge of the then newly-founded\nAmerican Mission at Ponape, and in the same ship, Hickson went on his\nwanderings again, joining us at Tahiti. And I could see as he talked to\nme that he had a deep affection for her.\n\n\u201cWhat part of Ponape is she living on?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cI don't know, I'm sure. Here, I suppose; and if you don't mind, while\nyou're weighing the yams, I'll go up to the mission-house and inquire.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight you are, Hickson,\u201d I said, \u201cbut don't forget to get back early,\nit's a beastly risky pull out to the ship in the dark.\u201d\n\nWe went into a little bay, and found the natives waiting for us with the\nyams, and Hickson, after inquiring the way to the Mission, left me.\n\n*****\n\nPonape in those days was a rough place. It was the rendezvous of the\nAmerican whaling fleet, that came there for wood and water and \u201cother\nsupplies,\u201d before they sailed northward along the grim coasts of Japan\nand Tchantar Bay to the whale grounds of the Arctic Seas.\n\nAnd sometimes there would be trouble over the \u201cother supplies\u201d among the\nsavagely licentious crews of mixed men of all nations, and knives would\nflash, and the white sand of the beaches be stuck together in places\nwith patches and clots of dull red. It was the whalers' paradise--a\nparadise of the loveliest tropical beauty, of palm-shaded beach and\nverdure-clad mountain imaginable; a paradise of wonderfully beautiful\nand utterly, hopelessly immoral native women; and, lastly, a paradise of\ncheap native grog, as potent and fiery as if Hell had been boiled down\nand concentrated into a small half-pint.\n\nIt was dark, and the yams had all been brought and stored in the boat\nbefore Hickson returned. By the flickering light of a native fire in a\nhouse close by I could see that something was the matter with him. His\nface was drawn, and his black eyes gleamed out like dully burning coals\nfrom the thick wavy hair that fell about his temples.\n\n\u201cI'm sorry I'm late,\u201d he said, and the moment he had spoken I knew\nby the dangerous huskiness of his voice that he had been drinking the\nnative grog.\n\nStaggering into the boat, he sat down beside me and took the tiller.\n\n\u201cGive way, _fanau seoli_ (children o hell),\u201d he growled to our crew of\nSamoans and Rotumah boys, \u201clet us get these yams aboard, and then I'm\ncoming back to burn the ------ mission-house down.\u201d\n\nSlowly the heavily-laden boat got way on her, and we slid away from the\nlight of the native fire out into the inky blackness of night. Beyond a\nmuttered curse at the crew, and keeping up that horrible grinding of\nthe teeth common enough to men of violent passions when under great\nexcitement, Hickson said nothing further till I asked--\n\n\u201cHickson, what's the matter? Couldn't you find your sister?\u201d\n\nHe sat up straight, and gripping my knee in his left hand till I winced,\nsaid, with an awful preliminary burst of blasphemy--\n\n\u201cBy God, sir, she's gone to hell; I'll never see poor little K\u00e2tia\nagain. I'm not drunk, don't you think it. I did have a stiff pull of\ngrog up in the village there, but I'm not drunk; but there's something\nrunning round and round in my head that's drivin' me mad.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is she?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cGod knows. I went to the mission-house and asked for the white\nmissionary. The ------ dog wasn't there. He and his wife are away in\nHonolulu, on a dollar-cadging trip. There was about three or four of\nthem cursed native teachers in the house, and all I could get out of\nthem was that K\u00e2tia wasn't there now; went away a year ago. 'Where to?'\nI said to one fat pig, with a white shirt and no pants on him. 'Don't\nknow,' says he, in the Ponape lingo; 'she's a bad girl now, and has left\nus holy ones of God and gone to the whaleships.'\u201d\n\nComing from any other man but Hickson I could have laughed at this,\nso truly characteristic of the repellent, canting native missionary of\nMicronesia, but the quick, gasping breath of Hickson and his trembling\nhand showed me how he suffered.\n\n\u201cI grabbed him and choked him till he was near dead, and chucked him in\na heap outside. Then I went all round to the other houses, but every\none ran away from me. I got a swig of grog from a native house and came\nright back.\u201d Then he was silent, and fixed his eyes on the ship's lights\nseaward.\n\nI could not offer him any sympathy, so said nothing. Lighting our pipes\nwe gazed out ahead. Far away, nearest the reef, lay our brig, her riding\nlight just discernible. A mile or two further away were three or four\nAmerican whalers, whose black hulls we could just make out through the\ndarkness. Within five hundred yards of us lay a dismantled and condemned\nbrig, the _Kamehameha IV._ from whose stern ports came a flood of light\nand the sounds of women's voices.\n\nWe were just about abeam of her when Hickson suddenly exclaimed--\n\n\u201cWhy, sir, the boat is sinking. Pull hard, boys, pull for the brig. The\nwater's coming in wholesale over the gunwale. Hadn't you fellows enough\nsense to leave a place to bale from?\u201d and he slewed the boat's head for\nthe brig.\n\nShe had two boats astern. We were just in time to get alongside one and\npitch about two tons of yams into her, or we would have sunk.\n\nThe noise we made was heard on the brig, and a head was put out of\none of the ports, and a voice hailed us. This was the brig's owner and\ncaptain, W------.\n\n\u201cCome on board and have a cigar!\u201d he called out.\n\nLeaving the crew to bale out and re-ship the yams, we clambered on deck.\n\nNow, this brig and her captain had a curious history. She was, two years\nbefore, as well-found a whaleship as ever sailed the Pacific, but by\nsome extraordinary ill-luck she had never taken a fish during a cruise\nof seven months, although in the company of others that were doing well.\nThe master, one of those fanatically religious New Englanders that\nby some strange irony of fate may be often met with commanding vilely\nlicentious crews of whaleships, was a skilled and hitherto lucky man. On\nreaching Ponape the whole of his officers and crew deserted _en masse_\nand went off in other ships. Utterly helpless, W------ was left by\nhimself. There were, of course, plenty of men to be had in Ponape, but\nthe ship's reputation for bad luck damned his hopes of getting a fresh\ncrew.\n\nWhether the man's brain was affected by his troubles I know not, but\nafter living like a hermit for a year, alone on the brig, a sudden\nchange took place in his character and conduct. Sculling ashore in\none of his boats--she was a four-boat ship--he had an interview with\nNanakin, the chief of the Jakoit's district, and returned on board with\nfive or six young girls, to whom he gave permanent quarters on board,\nselling from time to time his sails, whaling gear, and trade to keep his\nharem in luxury. At the end of a year the brig was pretty well stripped\nof all of any value; and W------ went utterly, hopelessly mad.\n\n*****\n\nThe brig's cabin was large and roomy. The table that had once nearly\nfilled it had been taken away, and the floor covered with those\npeculiarly made Ponape mats which, by rolling up one-half of either end,\nforms a combined couch and pillow. As Hickson and I, following the crazy\nlittle captain, made our appearance, some four young girls, who were\nlolling about on the mats, started up, and looked at us with big,\nwondering eyes, ablaze with curiosity.\n\nBoth Hickson and myself--and he had roved throughout Polynesia from his\nboyhood--were struck by the extraordinary beauty of these four young\ncreatures; so young and innocent in looks; in sin, as old as Ninon\nd'Enclos.\n\nPlacing one hand on the shoulder of the girl nearest to him, and fixing\nhis big, blue, deep-set eyes on us, W------waved the other towards the\ngirls, and said--\n\n\u201cWelcome, gentlemen, welcome. Behold these little devils, who in the\nguise of sunburnt angels are the solace of a man forgotten by his God,\nand the father of a family residing in Martha's Vineyard, United States\nof America.\u201d\n\nThen he gave us each a cigar and told us to be seated while he got us a\nglass of New England rum.\n\n*****\n\nHickson, with a contemptuous smile, sat with folded arms on a short,\nheavy stool. One of the girls, unshipping one of the two lights from the\nhook on which it hung, followed W------into a state-room to get the\nrum. Presently we heard them coming out, W------ carrying a\nwickerwork-covered five-gallon jar; but two girls came out instead of\none. The stranger kept close to W------, one hand holding the sleeve of\nhis shirt.\n\nStooping as he set the jar on the floor, I had a good view of the\nnew-comer, and a deadly fear seized me. I knew at once that she was\nHickson's sister! He was coarse and rough-looking, but yet a handsome\nman, and this girl's likeness to him was very striking. Just then\nHickson, not even noticing her, rose and said he was going on deck to\nsee if the boat was ready, when the strange quavering tones of W------\narrested him.\n\n\u201cBe seated, sir, for another minute. Nijilon, get some glasses. You see\nhere, gentlemen, the fairest and choicest or all my devil-vestals, one\nthat------\u201d\n\nHickson looked at her, and with a terrified wail the girl clutched\nW------'s arm, and placed her face against his breast. With lips drawn\nback from his white teeth the half-caste sprang up, and his two clenched\nhands pawed the air. Then from his throat there came a sound like a\nlaugh strangled into a groan.\n\nScarce knowing what I did I got in front of him, He dashed me aside as\nif I were a child, and seized the stool. And as he swung it round above\nhis head the girl raised a face like the hue of death to his; then the\nblow fell, and she and W------ went down together.\n\n******\n\nHickson rushed on deck and tried to spring overboard. I think he must\nhave struck the main boom, for one of our crew who was on deck heard\nhim fall. We got a light, and found him lying senseless. Two of the\n\u201cvestals\u201d held him up while I went below for some rum and water. W------\nwas lying where he had fallen, breathing heavily, but not seriously\ninjured as far as I could see. But one look at the closed eyes of the\ngirl told me she was past all help. The heavy stool had struck her on\nthe temple.\n\nPlacing Hickson in the boat with two men to mind mm, I took the other\ntwo with me into the cabin of the brig. W------ was seated on the floor,\nheld up by two of his harem, and muttering unintelligibly to himself.\nThe other two were bending over the figure on the floor, and placing\ntheir hands on her bosom.\n\n\u201cCome away from here, L------,\u201d said Harry, one of our Rotumah boys, to\nme; \u201cif the Ponape men come off, they will kill us all.\u201d\n\nWe could do nothing, so we got back into the boat, and with the still\nsenseless body of Hickson lying at our feet, pulled out to the ship.\n\n******\n\nWhen he came to he was a madman, and for his own safety our captain\nput him in irons. We put to sea next day, our skipper, like a wise man,\nsaying it would go hard with us if W------ died, and four Yankee whalers\nin port.\n\nThe day after we got away Hickson was set at liberty, and went about his\nduties as usual. At nightfall I went into his deck cabin. He was lying\nin his bunk, in the dark, smoking. He put out his hand, and drew me\nclose up to him.\n\n\u201cHarry says she is dead?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d I whispered.\n\n\u201cPoor little K\u00e3tia; I never meant to hurt her But I am glad she is\ndead.\u201d\n\nAnd he smoked his pipe in silence.\n\n\n\n\nA BOATING PARTY OF TWO\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n\nThe prison gate opened, and Number 73 for a minute or so leaned against\nthe wall to steady himself. The strange clamour of the streets smote\nupon his ear like dagger strokes into his heart, and his breath came in\nquick, short gasps.\n\nSome one was speaking to him--a little, pale-faced, red-whiskered man\nwith watery eyes--and Challoner, once \u201cNumber 73,\u201d staring stupidly\nat him, tried to understand, but foiled. Then, sidling up to him, the\nlittle man took one of Challoner's gaunt and long hands between his\nown, and a stout, masculine female in a blue dress and poke bonnet and\nspectacles clasped the other and called him \u201cbrother.\u201d\n\nA dull gleam shone in his sullen eyes at last, and drawing his hands\naway from them, he asked--\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d\n\nThe stout woman's sharp tongue clattered, and Challoner listened\nstolidly. Sometimes a word or two in the volley she fired would cause\nhim to shake his head wearily--\u201chappiness in the life heternal,\u201d \u201cwashed\nin the blood of the Lamb,\u201d and \u201ccast yer sins away an' come an' be saved\nwithout money an' without price.\u201d\n\nThen he remembered who he was and who they were--the warders had told\nhim of the Prison Gate Brigade. He turned to the man and muttered--\n\n\u201cI want to get away from here,\u201d and stepped past them, but the woman\nlaid her fat, coarse hand on his sleeve.\n\n\u201cCome 'ome with us, brother. P'r'aps yer 'ave a mother or a wife waitin'\nto 'ear from yer, an' we----\u201d\n\nHe dashed her hand aside savagely--\u201cBlast you, no; let me go!\u201d\n\nThen with awkward, shambling gait he pushed through the curious crowd\nat the prison gate, crossed the street, and entered the nearest\npublic-house.\n\n\u201cAnother soul escaped us, Sister Hannah,\u201d squeaked the little man; \u201cbut\nwe'll try and rescue him when he comes out from the house of wickedness\nand abomination.\u201d\n\n\u201cBetter leave him alone,\u201d said a warder in plain clothes, who just then\ncame through the gate, \u201che won't be saved at no price, I can tell yer.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is the poor man?\u201d asked Sister Hannah, in a plaintive, injured\nvoice.\n\n\u201cSh! Mustn't ask them questions,\u201d said the little man.\n\nBut he knew, all the same, that the tall, gaunt man with the sallow face\nand close-cropped white hair was Harvey Challoner, once chief officer of\nthe ship _Victory_, sentenced in Melbourne to imprisonment for life for\nmanslaughter, but released at the end of ten years.\n\n*****\n\nThe _Victory_ murder trial had not attracted much public attention, and\nthe prisoner had been defended at the public expense. On the voyage from\nLondon to Australia the crew had become discontented. They had\nreason for their discontent. Captain Cressingham, for all his suave,\ngentlemanly shore manners, was an adept at \u201chazing,\u201d and was proud\nof the distinction of making every ship he commanded a hell to the\nfo'c's'le hands. Sometimes, with sneering, mocking tongue, he would\ncompliment Challoner upon the courteous manner in which he \u201caddressed\nthe gentlemen for'ard.\u201d As for the other two mates, they were equally\nas brutal as their captain, but lacked his savage, methodical\nvindictiveness.\n\nWhen only a few weeks out, Harman, the second mate, one day accused\none of the men of \u201csoldiering,\u201d and striking him in the face, broke his\nnose, and as the man lay on the deck he kicked him brutally. Challoner,\nwho was on deck at the time, jumped down off the poop, and seizing\nHarman by the arm, called him a cowardly hound.\n\n\u201cAnd you're a d------d old woman,\u201d was the retort.\n\nChalloner's passion overpowered him, and at the end of five minutes\nHarman was carried below badly knocked about, and \u00e0 stormy scene ensued\nbetween Challoner and the captain.\n\n\u201cYou have all but killed Mr. Harman. I could, and should, put you in\nirons for the rest of the voyage,\u201d the captain had said.\n\nThere was a steely glitter in the mate's dark eyes as he answered--\n\n\u201cIn dealing with ruffians such as Harman and yourself one doesn't stop\nat an extra blow or two.\u201d\n\nFrom that time Cressingham was his bitter enemy; but Challoner did\nhis duty as chief officer too faithfully to give the captain a chance\nagainst him.\n\nDay after day had passed. The sullen discontent of the crew had changed\ninto outspoken hatred and a thirst for revenge upon the captain and\nHarman and Barton--the latter the third mate--and Challoner, who knew\nwhat was brewing, dared not open his mouth to any one of the three upon\nthe subject. Between himself and Cressingham and the other two there had\nnow sprung up a silent yet fierce antagonism, which the crew were quick\nto perceive, and from which they augured favourably for themselves.\n\nOne night, just as Challoner had relieved the second mate, some of the\nhands from both watches marched boldly aft and asked him if he would\ntake command of the ship. He had only to say the word, they said. They\nwere tired of being \u201cbashed\u201d and starved to death by the skipper and two\nmates, and if he would navigate the ship to Melbourne they would keep\nhim free from interference, and take the consequences, &c.\n\n\u201cGo for'ard, you fools,\u201d said Challoner, with assumed harshness, \u201cdon't\ntalk mutiny to me.\u201d\n\nA step sounded on the deck behind him, and Cressingham's sneering tones\nwere heard.\n\n\u201cDiscussing mutiny, are you, Mr. Challoner? By God, sir, I've suspected\nyou long enough. Go below, sir; or go for'ard with these fellows. You'll\ndo no more mate's duty aboard of this ship. Ah, Colliss, you're one of\nthe ringleaders, are you?\u201d And in an instant he seized a seaman by the\nthroat, and called loudly for Barton and Harman to help him.\n\nBefore they could respond to his call the poop was black with struggling\nmen. Cressingham, mad with passion, had Colliss down trying to strangle\nhim, and Challoner, fearing murder would be done, had thrown himself\nupon the captain and tried to make him release his grip of the man's\nthroat. At that moment a sailor called out--\n\n\u201cStand by, chaps, for Barton and Harman, and drop 'em the moment they\nshows up. Mr. Challoner's got the old man safe.\u201d\n\nBut Messrs. Harman and Barton were tough customers. The loud cries on\ndeck and heavy tramping of feet told them that a crisis had occurred,\nand they dashed up, each with a revolver in hand--only to be felled from\nbehind ere they could fire a shot. Challoner, letting the captain free,\nsprang to their aid. But he came too late, for before, with blows,\nkicks, and curses, he could force his way through the swaying, surging\nmass of men that hid the fallen officers from his view, he heard a\nsound--the sound of a man's skull as it was smashed in by a heavy blow.\n\n\u201cHe's done for,\u201d said a voice, with a savage laugh, \u201cscoot, chaps,\nscoot. This shindy will keep the old man quiet a bit, now one of his\nfightin' cocks is gone,\u201d and the men tumbled down off the poop as quick\nas their legs could carry them, leaving Challoner and the two prone\nfigures behind them. Cressingham had gone below for his revolver.\n\n\u201cSteward,\u201d called Challoner, \u201cbring a light here, quick, and see where\nthe captain is,\u201d and, stooping down, he tried to raise Harman, then laid\nhim down with a shudder--his brains were scattered on the deck. Barton\nwas alive, but unconscious.\n\nAs Challoner was about to rise, Captain Cressingham stood over him and\nraised his arm, and dealt him a crashing blow with a belaying pin. When\nhe regained consciousness he was in irons.\n\n*****\n\nA month later and he stood in the dock charged with murder. The\nprincipal witnesses against him were his captain and Barton, the third\nmate. The crew, who, of course, were also witnesses in the case, didn't\nworry much about him. It wasn't likely they would run their necks into\na noose if it could be placed round any one else's. And in this\ninstance--superinduced by a vision of the gallows--fo'c's'le hands stuck\nto one another and lied manfully together. None of them \u201chad hurt Mr.\nHarman.\u201d\n\nBut it was upon Cressingham's evidence that his fate hung; and\nCressingham, suave, handsome, and well-dressed, told the court how\nChalloner had once attempted to murder Harman in the earlier part of the\nvoyage. Barton, with his arm in a sling, corroborated the lie with blunt\ncheerfulness.\n\nHis Honour summed up dead against the prisoner, and the jury, impressed\nby the calm, gentlemanly appearance of Captain Cressingham, and the\nhaggard, unshaven, and guilty look of the man whose life they held in\ntheir hands, were not long in considering their verdict.\n\nThe prisoner was found guilty, but with a recommendation to mercy.\n\nAnd then the judge, who was cross and tired, made a brief but affecting\nspeech, and sentenced him to imprisonment for life.\n\nHe went into his prison cell with hair as black as night, and came out\nagain as white as a man of seventy.\n\n******\n\nIn a back room of the public-house he sat and waited till he had courage\nand strength enough to face the streets again. And as he waited, he gave\nhimself up to visions of the future--to the day when, with his hand on\nCressingham's lying throat, he would see his face blacken and hear the\nrattling agonies of his gasps for breath. He leaned back in his chair\nand laughed hoarsely. The unearthly, hideous sound startled him, and he\nglanced round nervously as if he feared to betray his secret. Then he\ndrank another glass of brandy, and with twenty-six shillings of prison\nmoney in his pocket and ten years of the blackest hatred in his heart,\nhe went out again into the world to begin his search--for Cressingham\nand revenge.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nThe people of Port ------, on the east coast of New Zealand, were\ncharmed with the handsome commander of the biggest ocean steamer that\nhad yet visited the port, and on the eve of his departure gave Captain\nCressingham the usual banquet. Banquets to captains of new lines of\nsteamers are good things to boom the interests of a budding seaport\ntown, and so a few score of the \u201cwarmest\u201d men in the place cheerfully\nplanked down their guinea each for the occasion.\n\nThe _Belted Will_ had hauled out from the wharf and lay a mile or so\nfrom the shore ready for sea, and the captain had told his chief officer\nto send a boat ashore for him at twelve o'clock.\n\nAmong the crowd that lounged about the entrance to the town hall and\nwatched for the arrival of the guest of the evening was a tall, dark,\nrough-looking man with white curly hair. One or two of those present\nseemed to know him, and presently some one addressed him.\n\n\u201cHallo, Harry! come to have a look at the swells? 'Taint often you come\nout o' nights.\u201d\n\nThe white-haired man nodded without speaking, and then moved away again.\nPresently the man he was looking for was driven up, and the loungers\ndrew aside to let him pass up the steps into the blaze of light under\nthe vestibule of the hall, where he was welcomed by half a dozen\neffusive citizens. For a moment he stood and chatted, and the man who\nwatched clenched his brawny hands and ground his teeth. Then Captain\nCressingham disappeared, and the tall man walked slowly away again in\nthe direction of the wharves.\n\n*****\n\nAt eleven o'clock Cressingham's boat came ashore, and the crew as they\nmade her fast grumbled and cursed in true sailor fashion.\n\n\u201cAre you the chaps from the _Belted Will?_\u201d said a man, who was leaning\nagainst one of the wharf sheds.\n\n\u201cYes; who are you, mister?\u201d said one of them.\n\n\u201cI'm Harry--one of the hands that was stowing wool aboard. I heard you\nwas coming ashore for the captain, and as you won't see him for the next\ncouple of hours, I thought I'd come down and ask you to come up and have\na couple of nips. It's cold loafing about here. I live pretty close.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou're one o' the right sort. What say, Peter?\u201d Peter was only too\nglad. The prospect of getting into a warm house was enough inducement,\neven without the further bliss of a couple of nips.\n\nIn half an hour the two men were helplessly drunk in Harry's room, and\ntheir generous host carefully placing another bottle (not doctored this\ntime) of rum on the table for them when they awoke, quietly went out\nand locked the door behind him. Then he walked quickly back to where\nthe _Belted Will_ boat lay, and descending the steps, got into her and\nseemed to busy himself for a while. He soon found what he was looking\nfor, and then came the sound of inrushing water. Then he drew the boat\nup again to the steps, got out, and casting off the painter, slung it\naboard, and shoved her into the darkness.\n\nFor another hour he waited patiently, and then came the rattle of\nwheels, and loud voices and laughter, as a vehicle drew up at the\ndeserted wharf.\n\n\u201cWhy not stay ashore to-night, captain,\u201d said one of the guest's\nchampagne-laden companions, \u201cand tell your man to go back?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d laughed Cressingham. \u201cI don't like the look of the weather,\nand must get aboard right away. Boat ahoy! Where are you, men?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour boat isn't here, sir,\u201d said a gruff voice, and a tall man advanced\nfrom the darkness of the sheds. \u201cI saw the men up town, both pretty\nfull, and heard them laughing and say they meant to have a night ashore.\nIt's my belief they turned her adrift purposely.\u201d\n\nCressingham cursed them savagely, and then turned to the tall man.\n\n\u201cCan you get me a boat?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, sir, there's a big heavy boat belonging to my boss that I can\nget, and I don't mind putting you aboard. We can sail out with this\nbreeze in no time. She's lying under the coal-wharf.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat'll do. Good-bye, gentlemen. I trust we shall all meet again in\nanother eight months or so.\u201d\n\nThe big man led the way, and in a few minutes they reached the coal\nwharf, under which the boat was moored. She was a heavy, clumsily-built\ncraft, and Cressingham, on getting aboard and striking a match, cursed\nher filthy state. The tall man stepped to the mast and hoisted the\nlug-sail, and Cressingham, taking the tiller, kept her out towards the\n_Belted Will_ whose riding light was discernible right ahead.\n\n\u201cWe must look out for the buoys, sir,\u201d said the gruff-voiced man, as the\nbreeze freshened up and the heavy boat quickened her speed.\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d said Cressingham, and pulling out a cigar from his overcoat\nhe bent his head and struck a light.\n\nEre he raised it the white-haired man had sprung upon him like a\ntiger, and seized his throat in his brawny hands. For a minute or\nso Cressingham struggled in that deadly grip, and then lay limp and\ninsensible in the bottom of the boat.\n\nChalloner, with malignant joy, leaned over him with a world of hate in\nhis black eyes, and then proceeded to business.\n\nLifting the unconscious man he carried him for'ard, and, placing him\nupon a thwart, gagged and bound him securely. Then he went aft and,\ntaking the tiller, hauled the sheet in and kept the boat away again upon\nher course for the _Belted Will_.\n\nHe passed within a quarter of a mile of the huge, black mass with the\nbright riding light shining upon the fore-stay, and the look-out from\nthe steamer took no notice of the boat as she swept past toward the open\nsea.\n\n*****\n\nDaylight at last. For six hours the boat had swept before the strong\nnortherly wind, and the land lay nearly thirty miles astern, lost in a\nsombre bank of heavy clouds and mist. Challoner had taken off his rough\novercoat and thrown it over the figure of his enemy. He did not want him\nto perish of cold. And as he steered he fixed his eyes, lighted up with\nan unholy joy, upon the bent and crushed figure before him.\n\nCressingham was conscious now, and stared with horror-filled eyes at the\ngrim creature in the craft before him--a gaunt, dark-faced man, clad in\na striped guernsey and thin cotton pants, with a worn and ragged woollen\ncap stuck upon his thick masses of white curly hair. Who was he? A\nmadman.\n\nChalloner seemed to take no notice of him, and looked out upon the\nthreatening aspect of sea and sky with an unconcerned face. Presently he\nhauled aft the sheet a bit, and kept the boat on a more westerly course,\nand the bound and wondering man on the for'ard thwart watched his\nmovements intently.\n\nThe boat had made a little water, and the white-headed man stooped and\nbaled it out carefully; then he looked up and caught his prisoner's eye.\n\n\u201cHa, ha, Cressingham, how are you? Isn't it delightful that we should\nmeet again?\u201d\n\nA strange inarticulate cry broke from Cressingham.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! is it possible that you don't remember me? I am afraid that that\nbanquet champagne has affected you a little. Try back, my dear fellow.\nDon't you remember the _Victory?_\u201d\n\nAh! he remembered now, and a terrible fear chilled his life-blood and\nfroze his once sneering tongue into silence.\n\n\u201cAh! I see you do,\u201d and Challoner laughed with Satanic passion. \u201cAnd so\nwe meet again--with our positions reversed. Once, unless my memory fails\nme, you put me in irons. Now, Captain Cressingham, I have you seized up,\nand we can have a quiet little chat--all to ourselves.\u201d\n\nNo answer came from Cressingham. With dilated, horror-stricken eyes and\npanting breath he was turned into stone. The wretched man's silence at\nlast broke up the depths of his maddened tormentor's hatred, and with a\nbound he sprang to his feet and raised his hand on high.\n\n\u201cAh! God is good to me at last, Cressingham. For ten years I hungered\nand thirsted for the day that would set me free, free to search the\nworld over for the lying, murderous dog that consigned me, an innocent\nman, to a lifelong death. And when the day came, sooner than I thought\nor you thought--for I suffered for ten years instead of for life--I\nwaited, a free man till I got you into my power.\u201d\n\nHis hand fell to his side again, and then he leaned forward and laughed.\n\nCressingham, with death creeping into his heart, at last found his\nvoice.\n\n\u201cAre you going to murder me?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Challoner, slowly, \u201cI am going to murder you. But not\nquickly. There would be no joy in that. I want you to taste some of my\nhideous past--some little space, if only for a day or two, of that ten\nlong years of agony I spent in Pentridge.\u201d\n\nThen he sat down again, and opening the locker in the stern sheets, took\nout food and water, and placing it beside him, ate and drank. But he\ngave none to Cressingham.\n\nHe finished his meal, and then looked again at his prisoner, and spoke\ncalmly again.\n\n\u201cYou are comfortable, I trust, Captain Cressingham? Not cold, I am\ncertain, for you have my overcoat in addition to your own. Do you know\nwhy I gave it to you? Just to keep you nice and warm during the night,\nand--alive. But, as I feel chilly myself now, I'll take it from you.\nThanks,\u201d and he laughed mockingly as he leaned over and snatched it\naway.\n\n\u201cYou see, sir, we are going on a long cruise--down to the Snares,\nperhaps--and I must keep warm myself, or else how can I talk to you to\nbreak the monotony of the voyage?... It is no use looking astern, my\nfriend. There's only one tug in port, and she is not in sea-going trim,\nso we've got a good start of any search party. And as I don't want to\ndie myself, we won't run away from the land altogether.\u201d\n\nAnd so the day passed, agony and deadly fear blanching the face of one,\nand cruel, murderous joy filling the heart of the other. Once, as the\nlast dying gleams of the wintry sun for a few brief moments shone over\nthe blackened waters, Challoner saw a long stream of steamer's smoke\nbetween the boat and the misty line of coast, and he lowered the sail\nand let the boat drift till darkness enwrapped them again.\n\nOnce more he took out food and water, and ate and drank, and then lit\nhis pipe and smoked, and watched with eyes that glared with the lust of\nmurder and revenge the motionless being before him.\n\nOnly once in all that night of horror to Cressingham did he speak, and\nhis voice shook and quivered, and came in choking gasps.\n\n\u201cChalloner, for the love of Christ, kill me and end my misery.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! still alive, Captain Cressingham! That is very satisfactory--to\nme only, of course. Kill you, did you say?\u201d and again his wild demoniac\nlaugh pealed out through the black loneliness of the night. \u201cNo, I don't\nintend to kill you. I want to see you suffer and die by inches. I want\nyou to call upon God to help you, so that I can mock at you, and defy\nHim to rob me of my vengeance.\u201d\n\nA shuddering moan, and then silence again.\n\nAgain the day broke, and as the ocean mists cleared and rolled away, and\nthe grey morning light fell upon the chilled and stiffening form of his\nenemy, Challoner came up and looked into his face, and spoke to him.\n\nNo answer came from his pallid lips, and Challoner thrust his hand under\nCressingham's coat and felt his heart. He was still alive, and presently\nthe closed and swollen eyelids opened, and as he met the glance of the\nman who leaned over him an anguished groan burst from his heart.\n\nChalloner looked at him intently for awhile; then he hoisted the sail\nagain, and, taking the tiller, headed the boat in for the land. The wind\nhad hauled round during the night, and although the boat made a lot\nof leeway there was no danger now of being blown away from the land\naltogether.\n\nAs the sun mounted higher, and the grey outlines of the shores darkened,\nhe glanced carefully over the sea to the north-west. Nothing in sight\nthere. But as the boat lifted to a sea he saw about five miles to\nleeward that a big steamer was coming up. In half an hour, unless she\nchanged her course, she would be up to the boat and could not fail to\nsee her.\n\nIn five minutes more Cressingham lay in the bottom of the boat unbound,\nbut dying fast, and Challoner was speaking to him.\n\n\u201cCressingham, you are dying. You know that, don't you? And you know that\nI am not lying when I tell you that there is a steamer within five miles\nof us. In less than half an hour she will be up to us.\u201d\n\nOne black, swollen hand was raised feebly, and then fell back, and a\nhoarse sound came from his throat.\n\n\u201cWell, now listen. I said I wanted to see you die--die as you are dying\nnow--with my face over yours, watching you die. And you die and I live.\nI can live now, Cressingham, and perhaps the memory of those ten years\nof death in life that I suffered through you will be easier to bear. And\nyet there is one thing more that you must know--something that will make\nit harder for you to meet your Maker, but easier for me.... Listen.\u201d\n He knelt beside him and almost shrieked it: \u201cI had no one in the whole\nworld to care for me when I was tried for my life but my wife--and you,\nyou fiend, you murderer--you killed her. She died six years ago--starved\nand died.\u201d\n\nCressingham, with closed eyes, lay with his head supported on\nChalloner's left arm. Presently a tremor shook his frame, a fleck of\nfoam bubbled from between his lips, and then the end.\n\nWith cold, merciless eyes the other regarded him, with clenched hands\nand set teeth. Then he went for'ard and unbent the boat's kedge, and\nwith the same lashings that had bound the living man to the thwart he\nlashed the kedge across the dead man's chest.\n\nHe stood up and looked at the approaching steamer, and then he raised\nthe body in his arms and dropped it over the side.\n\n*****\n\nA few days later the papers said that the steamer _Maungatapu_ had\npicked up a man named Harry, who with Captain Cressingham, of the\n_Belted Will_ had been blown out to sea from Port ------. It appeared\nfrom the survivor's statement that during a heavy squall the same night\nCaptain Cressingham had fallen overboard, and his companion was unable\nto rescue him.\n\n\n\n\n\n\u201cTHE BEST ASSET IN A FOOL'S ESTATE\u201d\n\nA slight smile lit up the clear-cut, sombre face of Lawson from Safune,\nas looking up from his boat at Etheridge's house he saw the glint of\nmany lights shining through the walls of the roughly-built store. It\nwas well on towards midnight when he had left Safune and sailed round\nto Etheridge's, a distance of twelve or fifteen miles, and as his\nboat touched the sand the first streaks of dawn were changing the dead\nwhiteness of the beach into a dull grey--soon to brighten into a creamy\nyellow as the sun pierced the heavy land-mist.\n\nA native or two, wrapped from head to foot in the long _lava lava_ of\nwhite calico, passed him as he followed the windings of the track to\nEtheridge's, but gave him no sign of greeting. Had he been any one of\nthe few other white men living on Savaii the dark men would have stopped\nhim and, native-like, inquired the reason of his early visit to\ntheir town. But they knew Lawson too well. _Mat\u00e2aitu_ they called\nhim--devil-faced. And in this they were not far wrong, for Lawson,\nwith his dark olive skin, jet black beard, and eyes that belied the\never-smiling lips, was not a man whom people would be unanimous in\ntrusting.\n\nThe natives knew him better than did his few white acquaintances in\nSamoa, for here, among them, the mask that hid his inner nature from\nhis compeers was sometimes put aside, though never thrown away. But\nEtheridge, the hot-blooded young Englishman and friend of six months'\nstanding, thought and spoke of him as \u201cthe best fellow in the world.\u201d\n\nEtheridge had been taking stock, and the wearisome work had paled his\nusually florid features. His face flushed with pleasure at Lawson's\nquiet voice:--\n\n\u201cHard at it, Etheridge? I don't know which looks the paler--you or\nL\u00e2lia. Why on earth didn't you send for me sooner? Any one would think\nyou were some poor devil of a fellow trading for the Dutchmen instead of\nbeing an independent man. Now, I'm hungry and want breakfast--that is,\nif L\u00e2lia isn't too tired to get it,\u201d and he looked compassionately at\nEtheridge's young half-caste wife, sister to his own.\n\n\u201cI'm not tired,\u201d said the girl, quietly. \u201cI've had easy tasks--counting\npackets of fish-hooks, grosses of cotton, and things like that. Billy\nwouldn't let me help him with the prints and heavy things,\u201d and with\nthe faintest shadow of a smile on her lips she passed through into the\nsitting-room and thence outside to the little thatched cook-house a few\nyards away. With ardent infatuation Etheridge rested his blue eyes on\nthe white-robed, slender figure as she stood at the door and watched the\nNiu\u00eb cook light his fire for an early cup of coffee--the first overture\nto breakfast at Etheridge's.\n\n\u201cBy Jove, Lawson, I'm the luckiest man in Samoa to get such a wife as\nL\u00e2lia--and I only a new-chum to the Islands. I believe she'd work night\nand day if I'd allow it. And if it hadn't been for you I'd never have\nmet her at all, but would have married some fast creature who'd have\ngone through me in a month and left me a dead-broken beachcomber.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Lawson, \u201cshe _is_ a good girl, and, except her sister, about\nthe only half-caste I ever knew whom I would trust implicitly. Their\nmother was a Hervey Island woman, as I told you, and L\u00e2lia has been with\nTerere and me all over Polynesia, and I think I know her nature. She's\nfond of you, Etheridge, in her quiet, undemonstrative way, but she's a\nbit shy yet. You see, you don't speak either Rarotongan or Samoan, and\nhalf-caste wives hate talking English. Now, tell me, what is it worrying\nyou? You haven't had another attack?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the younger man, \u201cI have--and a bad one, too, and that's why\nI sent for you. The stocktaking is nothing; but I was afraid I might get\nanother that would stiffen me properly. Look here, Lawson, you've been\na true friend to me. You picked me up six months ago a drunken,\nhalf-maddened beast in Apia and saved my life, reason, and money,\nand----\u201d\n\n\u201cBosh!\u201d said Lawson, taking his coffee from the hand of Etheridge's\nwife; \u201cdon't think of it, my boy. Every man goes a bit crooked\nsometimes; so don't thank me too much.\u201d\n\nEtheridge waited till his wife was gone and then resumed: \u201cI've been\nhorribly scared, Lawson, over this,\u201d and he placed his hand over his\nheart, \u201cI was lifting a case of biscuits when I dropped like a pithed\nbullock. When I came to, L\u00e2lia was bathing my face.... I feel pretty\nshaky still. The doctor at Goddeffroy's warned me, too--said I'd go off\nsuddenly if I wasn't careful. My father and one brother died like that.\nAnd I want to talk things over with you in case, you know.\u201d Lawson\nnodded.\n\n\u201cEverything I have is for her, Lawson--land, house, trade, and money.\nYou're pretty sure there's no irregularity in that will of mine, aren't\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cSure. It's very simply written. It's properly witnessed, and would hold\nin any court of law if contested. And perhaps your people in Australia\nmight do that.\u201d\n\nEtheridge reddened. \u201cNo; I cut adrift from 'em long ago. Grog, you know.\nBeyond yourself and L\u00e2lia, I haven't a soul who'll bother about me.\nI think, Lawson, I'll take a run up to Apia and see the Dutch doctor\nagain. Fearful cur, am I not?\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, Etheridge,\u201d and Lawson laid his smooth, shapely hand--how\ndishonest are shapely hands!--on the other's arm. \u201cYou're a little\ndown. Anything wrong with one's heart always gives a man a bad shaking.\nThere's L\u00e2lia calling us to breakfast, so I won't say any more but this:\nEven if L\u00e2lia wasn't my wife's sister, and anything happened to you,\nthere's always a home for her in my house. I'd do that for your sake\nalone, old man, putting aside the principle I go on of showing respect\nto any white man's wife, even if she were a Oahu girl and had rickety\nideas of morality.\u201d\n\nWhen Lawson had first met him and had carried him down to his station on\nSavaii, nursed him through his illness, and treated him like a brother,\nEtheridge, with the impulsive confidence of his simple nature, poured\nout his thanks and told his history, and eagerly accepted Lawson's\nsuggestion to try his hand at trading, instead of continuing his erratic\nwanderings--wanderings which could only end in his \u201cgoing broke\u201d at\nTahiti or Honolulu, Fifteen miles or so away, Lawson said, there was a\nvillage with a good opening for a trader. How much could he put into\nit? Well, he had \u00a3500 with him, and there was another thousand in\nSydney--the last of five. Ample, said his host. So one day the land\nwas bought, a house and store put up, and Etheridge commenced life as a\ntrader.\n\nThe strange tropic beauty of the place and the ways of the people soon\ncast their spell over Etheridge's imaginative nature, and he was as\nhappy as a man possibly could be--with a knowledge that his life hung by\na thread. How slender that thread was Lawson knew, perhaps, better than\nhe. The German doctor had said, \u201cYou must dell him to be gareful, Mr.\nLawson. Any excidemend, any zooden drouble mit anydings; or too much\nvisky midout any excidemends, and he drop dead. I dell you.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nA month or so after he had settled, Etheridge paid his weekly visit to\nLawson, and met L\u00e2lia.\n\n\u201cThis is my wife's sister,\u201d said Lawson; \u201cshe has been on a visit to\nsome friends in Tutuila, and came back in the _Iserbrook?_\u201d\n\nThe clear-cut, refined, and beautiful features of the girl did their\nwork all too quickly on Etheridge. He was not a sensualist, only a\nman keenly susceptible to female beauty, and this girl was.\nbeautiful--perhaps not so beautiful as her sister, Terere, Lawson's\nwife, but with a softer and more tender light in her full, dark eyes.\nAnd Lawson smiled to himself when Etheridge asked him to come outside\nand smoke when his wife and her sister had said good-night. A student\nof human nature, he had long ago read the simple mind of Etheridge as\nhe would an open book, and knew what was coming. They went outside and\ntalked--that is, Etheridge did. Lawson listened and smoked. Then he put\na question to the other man.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cOf course I will, Lawson; do you think I'm scoundrel enough to dream\nof anything else? We'll go up to Apia and get married by the white\nmissionary.\u201d\n\nLawson laughed in his quiet way. \u201cI wouldn't think you a scoundrel\nat all, Etheridge. I may as well tell you that I'm not married to her\nsister. We neglected doing that when I lived in the eastward groups, and\nno one in Samoa is any the wiser, and wouldn't think anything of it if\nthey were. But although I'm only a poor devil of a trader, I'm a man of\nprinciple in some things. L\u00e2lia is but a child, so to speak, and I'm her\nnatural protector. Now, you're a fellow of some means, and if anything\ndid happen to you she wouldn't get a dollar if she wasn't legally\nyour wife. The consul would claim everything until he heard from your\nrelatives. And she's very young, Etheridge, and you've told me often\nenough that your heart's pretty dicky. Don't think me a brute.\u201d\n\nEtheridge grasped his hand and wrung it. \u201cNo, no--a thousand times no.\nYou're the best-hearted fellow in the world, and I honour you all the\nmore, Lawson. Will you ask her to-morrow?\u201d\n\nPerhaps if he had heard the manner of Lawson's asking it would have\npuzzled his simple brain. And the subdued merriment of the two sisters\nmight have caused him to wonder still more.\n\nA week or so after, Etheridge and the two sisters went up to Apia.\nLawson was unable to go. Copra was coming in freely, he had said with\na smile, and he was too poor to run away from business--even to the\nwedding of his own wife's sister.\n\n*****\n\nAs Etheridge and his young wife came out of the mission church some\nnatives and white loafers stood around and watched them.\n\n\u201cHo, M\u00e2galo,\u201d said one, \u201cis not that _teine_, the sister of the wife of\n_Mat\u00e2aitu_ the black-visaged _papalagi?_\u201d\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d answered a skinny old hag, carrying a basket of water-bottles,\n\u201c'tis she, and the other is Terere. I lived with them once at Tutuila.\nShe who is now made a wife and looketh so good and holy went away but\na year ago with the captain of a ship--a pig of a German--and now, look\nyou, she marrieth an Englishman.\u201d\n\nThe other natives laughed, and then an ugly fat-faced girl with\nlime-covered head and painted cheeks called out \u201c_P\u00e2patetele!_\u201d and\nTerere turned round and cursed them in good English.\n\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d said a white man to Flash Harry from Saleimoa--a\nman full of island lore.\n\n\u201cWhy, it means as the bride isn't all as she purfesses to be. Them\npretty soft-lookin' ones like her seldom is, in Samoa or anywhere else.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe day following the stock-taking Etheridge went to Apia--and never\ncame back.\n\nOne night a native tapped gently at Lawson's window and handed him a\nnote. As he read Terere with a sleepy yawn awoke, and, stretching one\nrounded arm out at full length, let it fall lazily on the mat-bed.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, Harry?\u201d\n\n\u201cGet up, d------ you! Etheridge is dead, and I'm going to take L\u00e2lia up\nto Apia as quick as I can. Why the h---- couldn't he die here?\u201d\n\nA rapid vision of unlimited presents from the rich young widow passed\nthrough the mind of Terere--to whom the relations that had formerly\nexisted between her and Lawson were well known--as she and he sped along\nin his boat to Etheridge's. L\u00e2lia received the news with much equanimity\nand a few tears, and then leaving Terere in charge, she got into the\nboat and rolled a cigarette. Lawson was in feverish haste. He was afraid\nthe consul would be down and baulk his rapid but carefully arranged\nscheme. At Safune he sent his crew of two men ashore to his house for a\nbreaker of water, and then once they were out of sight he pushed off and\nleft them. They were in the way and might spoil everything. The breeze\nwas strong, and that night Lawson and L\u00e2lia, instead of being out in\nthe open sea beating up to Apia, were ashore in the sitting-room of the\nwhite missionary house on the other side of Savaii.\n\n\u201cI am indeed glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lawson. Your honourable\nimpulse deserves commendation. I have always regretted the fact that a\nman like you whose reputation as an educated and intelligent person far\nabove that of most traders here is not unknown to me\u201d--Lawson smiled\nsweetly--\u201cshould not alone set at defiance the teaching of Holy Writ,\nbut tacitly mock at _our_ efforts to inculcate a higher code of morality\nin these beautiful islands. Ere long I trust I may make the acquaintance\nof your brother-in-law, Mr. Etheridge, and his wife.\u201d\n\nLawson smiled affably, and a slight tinge suffused the creamy cheek of\nL\u00e2lia.\n\n\u201cAnd now, Mr. Lawson, as you are so very anxious to get back home I will\nnot delay. Here are my wife and my native assistant as witnesses. Stand\nup, please.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cGet in, you little beast,\u201d said Lawson, as he bundled L\u00e2lia into the\nboat and started back home, \u201cand don't fall overboard. I don't want to\nlose the Best Asset in that Fool's Estate.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nWhen the consul, a week later, came down to take possession of\nEtheridge's \u201cestate,\u201d he called in at Safune to ask Lawson to come and\nhelp him to take an inventory. Terere met him with a languid smile, and,\ntoo lazy perhaps to speak English, answered his questions in Samoan.\n\n\u201cHe's married and gone,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cMarried? Aren't _you_ Mrs. Lawson?\u201d said the bewildered consul, in\nEnglish.\n\n\u201cNot now, sir; my sister is. Will you take me to Apia in your boat,\nplease?\u201d\n\nAnd that is how Lawson, the _papalagi mativa_ (poor white) and \u201cthe\nbest-hearted fellow in the world,\u201d became a _mau aha_--a man of riches,\nand went, with the Best Asset in Etheridge's estate, the calm-eyed\nL\u00e2lia, to start a hotel in--well, no matter where.\n\n\n\n\nDESCHARD OF ONEAKA\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nAmong the Gilbert Group--that chain of low-lying sandy atolls annexed\nby the British Government two years ago--there is one island that may be\nsaid to be both fertile and beautiful; yet for all this Kuria--for so\nit is called by the natives of the group generally--has remained almost\nuninhabited for the past forty years. Together with the lagoon island\nof Aranuka, from which it is distant about six miles, it belongs to the\npresent King of Apamama, a large and densely populated atoll situated\nhalf a degree to the eastward. Thirty years ago, however, the\ngrandfather of the lad who is now the nominal ruler of Apamama had cause\nto quarrel with the Kurians, and settled the dispute by invading their\nisland and utterly destroying them, root and branch. To-day it is\ntenanted only by the young king's slaves.\n\nOf all the many groups and archipelagoes that stud the North and South\nPacific from the rocky, jungle-covered Bonins to Juan Fernandez,\nthe islands of the Gilbert Group are--save for this Kuria--the most\nuninviting and monotonous in appearance. They are for the most part but\nnarrow strips of sandy soil, densely clothed, it is true, with countless\nthousands of stately cocoanut palms varied with groves of pan-danus and\noccasional patches of stunted scrub, but flat and unpleasing to the\neye. Seldom exceeding two miles in width--although, as is the case at\nDrummond's Island, or Taputeouea, they sometimes reach forty in the\nlength of their sweeping curve--but few present a continuous and\nunbroken stretch of land, for the greater number consist of perhaps\ntwo or three score of small islands, divided only by narrow and shallow\nchannels, through which at high water the tide sweeps in from the ocean\nto the calm waters of the lagoons with amazing velocity. These strips\nof land, whether broken or continuous, form the eastern or windward\nboundaries of the lagoons; on the western or lee side lie barrier reefs,\nbetween whose jagged coral walls there are, at intervals widely apart,\npassages sufficiently deep for a thousand-ton ship to pass through in\nsafety, and anchor in the transparent depths of the lagoon within its\nprotecting arms.\n\n*****\n\nYears ago, in the days when the whaleships from Nantucket, and Salem,\nand Martha's Vineyard, and New Bedford cruised northward towards the\ncold seas of Japan and Tchantar Bay, and the smoky glare of their\ntryworks lit up the ocean at night, the Gilberts were a wild place, and\nmany a murderous scene was enacted on white beach and shady palm grove.\nTime after time some whaler, lying to in fancied security outside the\npassage of a lagoon, with half her crew ashore intoxicated with sour\ntoddy, and the other half on board unsuspicious of danger, would be\nattacked by the ferocious brown people. Swimming off at night-time, with\nknives held between their teeth, a desperate attempt would be made to\ncut off the ship. Sometimes the attempt succeeded; and then canoe after\ncanoe would put out from the shore, and the wild people, swarming up the\nship's side, would tramp about her ensanguined decks and into the cabins\nseeking for plunder and fiery New England rum. Then, after she had been\ngutted of everything of value to her captors, as the last canoe pushed\noff, smoke and then flames would arise, and the burning ship would\ndrift away with the westerly current, and the tragedy of her fate, save\nto the natives of the island, and perhaps some renegade white man who\nhad stirred them to the deed, would never be known.\n\n*****\n\nIn those days--long ere the advent of the first missionary to the\nisolated equatorial atolls of Polynesia and Melanesia--there were\nmany white men scattered throughout the various islands of the Ellice,\nGilbert, and Marshall groups. Men, these, with a past that they cared\nnot to speak of to the few strangers they might chance to meet in their\nsavage retreats. Many were escaped convicts from Van Diemen's Land and\nNew South Wales, living, not in dread of their wild native associates,\nbut in secret terror of recapture by a man-of-war and a return to the\nhorrors of that dreadful past. Casting away the garb of civilisation\nand tying around their loins the _airiri_ or grass girdle of the Gilbert\nIslanders, they soon became in appearance, manners, language, and\nthoughts pure natives. For them the outside world meant a life of\ndegradation, possibly a shameful death. And as the years went by and\nthe bitter memories of the black days of old, resonant with the clank\nof fetters and the warder's harsh cry, became dulled and faint, so died\naway that once for-ever-haunting fear of discovery and recapture. In\nTeak\u00e9, the bronzed, half-naked savage chief of Maiana, or M\u00e9si, the\ndesperate leader of the natives that cut off the barque _Addie Passmore_\nat Marakei, the identity of such men as \u201cNuggety\u201d Jack West and Macy\nO'Shea, once of Van Diemen's Land or Norfolk Island, was lost for ever.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nOn Kuria, the one beautiful island of the Gilberts, there lived four\nsuch white men as those I speak of. Whence they came they alone knew.\nTwo of them--a Portuguese deserter from a whaler and a man named\nCorton--had been some years on the island when they were joined by two\nothers who came over from Apamama in a boat. One was called Tamu (Tom)\nby the natives, and from the ease with which he spoke the Gilbert Island\ndialect and his familiarity with native customs, he had plainly lived\nmany years among the natives; the other was a tall, dark-skinned,\nand morose-looking man of nearly fifty. He was known as Hari to the\nnatives--once, in that outer world from which some crime had dissevered\nhim for ever, he was Henry Deschard.\n\nAlthough not familiar with either the language or the customs of the\nferocious inhabitants of the Gilbert Group, it was soon seen by the ease\nwith which he acquired both that Hari had spent long years roaming about\nthe islands of the Pacific. In colour he was darker than the Kurians\nthemselves; in his love of the bloodshed and slaughter that so often ran\nriot in native quarrels he surpassed even the fiercest native; and as\nhe eagerly espoused the cause of any Kurian chief who sought his aid he\nrapidly became a man of note on the island, and dreaded by the natives\nelsewhere in the group.\n\nThere were then over a thousand people living on Kuria--or rather,\non Kuria and Oneaka, for the island is divided by one of those narrow\nchannels before mentioned; and at Oneaka Tamu and Deschard lived, while\nthe Portuguese and the man Corton had long held joint sway with the\nnative chief of Kuria.\n\nDuring the time the four renegades had lived on the island two vessels\nthat had touched there had had narrow escapes from seizure by the\nnatives. The first of these, a small Hawaiian whaling brig, was\nattacked when she was lying becalmed between Kuria and Aranuka. A breeze\nspringing up, she escaped after the loss of a boat's, crew, who were\nentrapped on the latter island. In this affair Deschard and Tamu had\ntaken part; in the next--an attempt to capture a sandalwooding barque\nbound to China--he was leader, with Corton as his associate. The\nsandalwooder, however, carried a large and well-armed crew, and the\ntreacherous surprise so elaborately planned came to ignominious failure.\nDeschard accused his fellow-beachcomber of cowardice at a critical\nmoment. The two men became bitter enemies, and for years never spoke to\neach other.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nBut one afternoon a sail was sighted standing in for the island, and in\ntheir hateful bond of villainy the two men became reconciled, and agreed\nwith Pedro and Tamu and some hundreds of natives to try to decoy the\nvessel to an anchor and cut her off. The beachcombers, who were tired\nof living on Kuria, were anxious to get away; the natives desired the\nplunder to be obtained from the prize. A compact was then made that the\nship, after the natives had done with her, was not to be burnt, but was\nto be handed over to the white men, who were to lead the enterprise.\n\n*****\n\nSailing slowly along till she came within a mile of the reef, the\nvessel hove to and lowered a boat. She was a large brigantine, and the\nmurderous beings who watched her from the shore saw with cruel pleasure\nthat she did not appear to carry a large crew.\n\nIt had been agreed upon that Corton, who had special aptitude for such\nwork, should meet the boat and endeavour to lure the crew into the\ninterior, under the promise of giving them a quantity of fresh-water\nfish from the artificial ponds belonging to the chief, while Deschard\nand the other two, with their body of native allies, should remain at\nthe village on Oneaka, and at the proper moment attack the ship.\n\nAs the boat drew near, the officer who was in charge saw that although\nthere were numbers of natives clustered together on the beach, the\ngreater portion were women and children. He had with him five men, all\narmed with muskets and cutlasses, and although extremely anxious to\navoid a collision, he was not at all alarmed. The natives meanwhile\npreserved a passive attitude, and when the men in the boat, at a word\nfrom the officer, stopped rowing, backed her in stern first, and then\nlay on their oars, they nearly all sat down on the sand and waited for\nhim to speak.\n\nStanding up in the boat, the officer hailed--\n\n\u201cHallo there, ashore! Any white men living here?\u201d\n\nFor a minute or so there was no answer, and the eyes of the natives\nturned in the direction of one of their number who kept well in the\nbackground.\n\nAgain the seaman hailed, and then a man, seemingly a native, stout and\nmuscular, with hair felling down in thick masses upon his reddish-brown\nshoulders, walked slowly out from the others, and folding his brawny\narms across his naked chest, he answered--\n\n\u201cYes; there's some white men here.\u201d\n\nThe officer, who was the mate of the brigantine, then spoke for a few\nminutes to a young man who pulled bow oar, and who from his dress was\nnot one of the crew, and said finally, \u201cWell, let us make sure that\nthere is no danger first, Maurice.\u201d\n\nThe young man nodded, and then the mate addressed the seeming native\nagain:\n\n\u201cThere's a young fellow here wants to come ashore; he wants to see one\nof the white men here. Can he come ashore?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course he can. D'ye think we're a lot o' cannibals here? I'm a white\nman myself,\u201d and he laughed coarsely; then added quickly, \u201cWho does he\nwant to see?\u201d\n\nThe man who pulled the bow oar sprang to his feet.\n\n\u201cI want to see Henry Deschard!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you?\u201d was the sneering response. \u201cWell, I don't know as you can.\nThis isn't his day at-home like; besides that, he's a good long way\nfrom here just now.\u201d\n\n\u201cI've got good news for him,\u201d urged the man called Maurice.\n\nThe beachcomber meditated a few seconds; then he walked down to the\nboat.\n\n\u201cLook here,\u201d he said, \u201cI'm telling the exac' truth. Deschard's place\nis a long way from here, in the bush too, so you can't go there in the\nboat; but look here, why can't you chaps come along with me? I'll show\nyou the way, and you'll have a good look at the island. There's nothin'\nto be afraid of, I can tell you. Why, these natives is that scared of\nall them guns there that you won't see 'em for dust when you come with\nme; an' the chief says as you chaps can drag one of his fish-ponds.\u201d\n\nThe mate was tempted; but his orders were to allow only the man Maurice\nto land, and to make haste back as soon as his mission was accomplished.\nShaking his head to the renegade's wily suggestion, he, however, told\nMaurice that he could go and endeavour to communicate with Deschard. In\nthe meantime he would return to the ship, and tell the captain--\u201cand the\nother\u201d (these last words with a look full of meaning at the young man)\nthat everything was going on all right.\n\nFoiled in his plan of inducing all the men to come ashore, Corton\nassumed a careless manner, and told Maurice that he was still willing to\nconduct him to Deschard, but that he would not be able to return to the\nship that night, as the distance was too great.\n\nThe mate was agreeable to this, and bidding the beachcomber and his\nvictim good-day he returned to the ship.\n\nHolding the young man's hand in his, the burly renegade passed through\nthe crowd of silent natives, and spoke to them in their own tongue.\n\n\u201cHide well thy spears and clubs, my children; 'tis not yet time to act.\u201d\n\nStill clasping the hand of his companion, he led the way through the\nnative town, and then into the narrow bush track that led to Oneaka, and\nin another five minutes they were alone, or apparently so, for nought\ncould be heard in the fast gathering darkness but their own footsteps as\nthey trod the leafy path, and the sound of the breaching surf long miles\naway.\n\nSuddenly the beachcomber stopped, and in a harsh voice said--\n\n\u201cWhat is the good news for Deschard?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I cannot tell you,\u201d answered the stripling, firmly, though the\ngrim visage, tattooed body, and now threatening aspect of his questioner\nmight well have intimidated even a bolder man, and instinctively he\nthrust his hand into the bosom of his shirt and grasped a letter he\ncarried there.\n\n\u201cThen neither shall Deschard know it,\u201d said the man savagely, and\nthrowing himself upon the young man he bore him to the ground, while\nshadowy, naked figures glided out from the blackness of the forest and\nbound and gagged him without a sound. Then carrying him away from the\npath the natives placed him, without roughness, under the shelter of an\nempty house, and then left him.\n\nThe agony of mind endured by the helpless prisoner may be imagined when,\nunable to speak or move, he saw the beachcomber and his savage followers\nvanish into the darkness; for the letter which he carried had been\nwritten only a few hours before by the wife of the man Deschard, telling\nhim of her loving quest, and of her and her children's presence on board\nthe brigantine.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nAt daylight next morning some native women, passing by the deserted\nhouse on their way to work in the _puraka_ plantations of Oneaka, saw\nthe figure of the messenger lying dead. One of the women, named Niap\u00f4,\nin placing her hand upon his bosom to feel if he yet breathed, found\nthe letter which had cost him his life. For nearly twenty years she kept\npossession of it, doubtless from some superstitious motive, and then it\nwas bought from her by a white trader from Apamama, named Randall,\nby whom it was sent to the Rev. Mr. Damon, the \u201cSailors' Friend,\u201d a\nwell-known missionary in Honolulu. This was the letter:--\n\nMy Dear Husband,--It is nearly three years since I got your letter, but\nI dared not risk writing to you, even if I had known of a ship leaving\nfor the South Seas or the whale fishery. None of the sandalwooding\npeople in Sydney seemed even to know the name of this island (Courier?).\nMy dear husband, I have enough money now, thank God, to end all our\ntroubles. Your letter was brought to me at Parramatta by a sailor--an\nAmerican, I think. He gave it first to Maurice. I would have rewarded\nhim, but before I could speak to him he had gone. For ten years I have\nwaited and prayed to God to bring us together again. We came to Sydney\nin the same ship as Major D------, of the 77th. He has always been so\ngood to us, and so has his wife. Nell is sixteen now, Laura eighteen.\nGod grant that I will see you in a few hours. The captain says that he\nwill land us all at one of the places in the Dutch East Indies. I have\npaid him \u00a3100, and am to pay him \u00a3100 when you are safely on board. I\nhave been so miserable for the past year, as Major D------ had heard\nthat a man-of-war was searching the islands, and I was in such terrible\nfear that we would never meet again. Come quickly, and God bless you, my\ndear husband. Maurice insisted and begged to be allowed to take this to\nyou. He is nineteen years old now, but will not live long--has been a\nfaithful and good lad. Laura is eighteen, and Nell nearly sixteen now.\nWe are now close to Courier,{*} and should see you ere long.--Your\nloving and now joyful wife,--Anna Deschard.\n\n     * The native pronunciation of Kuria is like \u201cCourier.\u201d--\n     L.B.\n\n*****\n\nIn the big _maniapa_ or council house, on Oneaka, two hundred armed\nand naked savages were sitting awaiting the arrival of Corton and his\nwarriors from Kuria. A little apart from the muttering, excited\nnatives, and seated together, were the man Deschard and the two other\nbeachcombers, Pedro and Tamu.\n\nAs Corton and his men filed across the gravelled pathway that led to the\n_maniapa_ Deschard, followed by the two other white men, at once came\nout, and the former, with a fierce curse, demanded of Corton what had\nkept him.\n\n\u201cCouldn't manage to get them ashore,\u201d answered the other, sulkily. Then\nhe proceeded to impart the information he had gained as to the ship, her\ncrew, and armament.\n\n\u201cNine men and one native boy!\u201d said Deschard, contemptuously. He was a\ntall, lean-looking, black-bearded man, with even a more terrifying and\nsavage appearance than any of his ruffianly partners in crime, tattooed\nas he was from the back of his neck to his heels in broad, perpendicular\nlines. As he fixed his keen eyes upon the countenance of Corton his\nwhite teeth showed in a cruel smile through his tangled, unkempt\nmoustache.\n\nCalling out the leading chiefs of the cutting-out party, the four\ndesperadoes consulted with them upon their plan of action for the attack\nupon the brigantine, and then arranged for each man's work and share o\nthe plunder. The white men were to have the ship, but everything that\nwas of value to the natives and not necessary to the working of the ship\nwas to be given to the natives. The muskets, powder, and ball were to be\nevenly divided between the whites and their allies.\n\nSix of the native chiefs then swore by the names of their deified\nancestors to faithfully observe the murderous compact. After the ship\nwas taken they were to help the white men if the ship had anchored to\nget her under way again.\n\nIt was the intention of Deschard and his mates to make for the East\nIndies, where they would have no trouble in selling the ship to one of\nthe native potentates of that archipelago.\n\n*****\n\nAt daylight the brigantine, which had been kept under easy sail during\nthe night, was seen to be about four miles from the land, and standing\nin. Shortly after, two or three canoes, with only a few men in each, put\noff from the beach at Oneaka and paddled out leisurely towards the ship.\nWhen about a mile or so from the shore they ceased paddling, and the\ncaptain of the brigantine saw by his glass that they were engaged in\nfishing.\n\nThis was merely a device to inspire confidence in those on board the\nship.\n\nIn another hour the brigantine passed close to one of the canoes, and a\nnative, well tutored by past masters in the art of treachery in the part\nhe had to play, stood up in the canoe and held out a large fish, and in\nbroken English said it was a present for the captain.\n\nPleased at such a friendly overture, the captain put the helm down for\nthe canoe to come alongside. Handing the fish up over the side, the\ngiver clambered up himself. The three other natives in the canoe then\npaddled quietly away as if under no alarm for the safety of their\ncomrade, and resumed their fishing.\n\nAs the ship drew into the land the mate called the captain's attention\nto some eight or ten more natives who were swimming off to the ship.\n\n\u201cNo danger from these people, sir,\u201d he remarked; \u201cthey are more\nfrightened of us than we of them, I believe; and then look at the\nwomen and girls fishing on the reef. When the women come out like that,\nfearless and open-like, there isn't much to be afraid of.\u201d\n\nOne by one the natives who were swimming reached the ship, and\napparently encouraged by the presence of the man who had boarded the\nship from the fishing canoe, they eagerly clambered up on deck, and were\nsoon on the most friendly terms with the crew, especially with one of\ntheir own colour, a half-caste native boy from the island of Ambrym, in\nthe New Hebrides, named Maru.\n\nThis Maru was the sole survivor of the awful tragedy that followed, and\nappeared to be well acquainted with the captain's object in calling\nat Kuria--to pick up the man named Deschard. More than twenty years\nafterwards, when speaking of the events here narrated, his eyes filled\nwith tears when he told of the \u201cwhite lady and her two daughters\u201d who\nwere passengers, and who had sat on the poop the previous day awaiting\nthe return of the mate's boat, and for tidings of him whom they had come\nso far to find.\n\n*****\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nThe timid and respectful manner of the islanders had now so impressed\nthe master of the brigantine that in a fatal moment he decided to\nanchor. Telling the mate to range the cable and clear away all ready, he\ndescended to the cabin and tapped at the door of a state-room.\n\n\u201cI am going to anchor, Mrs. Deschard, but as there are a lot of rather\ncurious-looking natives on board, you and the young ladies had better\nkeep to your cabin.\u201d\n\nThe door opened, and a girl of seventeen or eighteen appeared, and,\ntaking the captain's hand, she whispered--\n\n\u201cShe is asleep, captain. She kept awake till daylight, hoping that my\nfather would come in the night. Do you think that anything has happened\neither to him or Maurice?\u201d\n\nMaru, the Ambrym cabin-boy, said that the captain \u201cpatted the girl's\nhand\u201d and told her to have no fear--that her father was on the island\n\u201csure enough,\u201d and that Maurice would return with him by breakfast time.\n\nThe brigantine anchored close in to the shore, between Kuria and Oneaka,\nand in a few minutes the long boat was lowered to proceed on shore and\nbring off Maurice and Deschard. Four hands got into her and then the\nmate. Just as he was about to cast off, the English-speaking native\nbegged the captain to allow him and the rest of his countrymen to go\nashore in the boat. Unsuspicious of treachery from unarmed natives, the\ncaptain consented, and they immediately slipped over the side into the\nboat.\n\nThere were thus but four white men left on board--the captain, second\nmate, two A.B.'s--and the half-caste boy Maru. Arms and ammunition,\nsufficient for treble the crew the brigantine carried, were on board.\nIn those days the humblest merchant brig voyaging to the East Indies and\nChina coast carried, in addition to small arms, either two or four guns\n(generally 6-pounders) in case of an attack by pirates. The brigantine\nwas armed with two 6-pounders, and these, so the Ambry half-caste\nsaid, were still loaded with \u201cbags of bullets\u201d when she came to an\nanchor. Both of the guns were on the main deck amidships.\n\n*****\n\nContrary to the wishes of the mate, who appeared to have the most\nunbounded confidence in the peace-ableness of the natives, the captain\nhad insisted upon his boat's crew taking their arms with them.\n\nNo sooner had the boat left the vessel than the English-speaking native\ndesired the mate to pull round to the east side of Oneaka, where, he\nsaid, the principal village was situated, and whither Maurice had gone\nto seek Deschard. It must be remembered that this native and those\nwith him were all members of Corton's _client\u00e8le_ at Kuria, and were\ntherefore well aware of his treachery in seizing the messenger to\nDeschard, and that Maurice had been seized and bound the previous night.\n\nIn half an hour, when the boat was hidden from the view of those on\nboard the brigantine, the natives, who outnumbered the whites two to\none, at a signal from their leader suddenly threw themselves upon\nthe unsuspecting seamen who were rowing and threw every one of them\noverboard. The mate, a small, active man, managed to draw a heavy horse\npistol from his belt, but ere he could pull the trigger he was dealt\na crushing blow with a musket stock. As he fell a native thrust him\nthrough and through with one of the seamen's cutlasses. As for the\nunfortunate seamen, they were killed one by one as they struggled in the\nwater. That part of the fell work accomplished, the natives pulled\nthe boat in towards Oneaka, where some ten or fifteen large native\ndouble-ended boats and canoes, all filled with savages lusting for blood\nand rapine, awaited them.\n\nDeschard, a man of the most savage courage, was in command of some\ntwenty or thirty of the most noted of the Oneaka warriors; and on\nlearning from Tebarian (the native who spoke English and who was\nCorton's brown familiar) that the two guns were in the waist of the\nship, he instructed his white comrades to follow in the wake of his\nboat, and, once they got alongside, board the ship wherever their fancy\ndictated.\n\nThere was a muttered _E rairai!_ (Good!) of approval from the listening\nnatives, and then in perfect silence and intuitive discipline the\npaddles struck the water, and the boat and canoes, with their naked,\nsavage crews, sped away on their mission of death.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nBut, long before they imagined, they had been discovered, and their\npurpose divined from the ship. Maru, the keen-eyed half-caste, who was\nthe first to notice their approach, knew from the manner in which the\ncanoes kept together that something unusual was about to occur, and\ninstantly called the captain. Glass in hand, the latter ascended the\nmain rigging for a dozen ratlins or so and looked at the advancing\nflotilla. A very brief glance told him that the boy had good cause for\nalarm--the natives intended to cut off the ship, and the captain, whom\nMaru described as \u201can old man with a white head,\u201d at once set about to\nmake such a defence as the critical state of affairs rendered possible.\n\nCalling his men to him and giving them muskets, he posted two of them on\ntop of the deckhouse, and with the remainder of his poor force stationed\nhimself upon the poop. With a faint hope that they might yet be\nintimidated from attacking, he fired a musket shot in the direction of\nthe leading boat. No notice was taken; so, descending to the main deck\nwith his men, he ran out one of the 6-pounders and fired it. The roar of\nthe heavily-charged gun was answered by a shrill yell of defiance from\ntwo hundred throats.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Maru, \u201cthe captain go below and say good-bye to women and\ngirls, and shut and lock cabin door.\u201d\n\nReturning to the deck, the brave old man and his second mate and two men\npicked up their muskets and began to fire at the black mass of boats and\nmen that were now well within range. As they fired, the boy Maru loaded\nspare muskets for them as fast as his trembling hands would permit.\n\nOnce only, as the brigantine swung to the current, the captain brought\nthe gun on the port side to bear on them again, and fired; and again\nthere came back the same appalling yell of defiance, for the shower\nof bullets only made a wide slat of foam a hundred yards short of the\nleading boat.\n\nBy the time the gun was reloaded the brigantine had swung round head\nto shore again; and then, as the despairing but courageous seamen were\ntrying to drag it forward again, Deschard and his savages in the leading\nboat had gained the ship, and the wild figure of the all but naked\nbeachcomber sprang on deck, followed by his own crew and nearly two\nhundred other fiends well-nigh as bloodthirsty and cruel as himself.\nSome two or three of them had been killed by the musketry fire from the\nship, and their fellows needed no incentive from their white leaders to\nslay and spare not.\n\nAbandoning the gun, the captain and his three men and the boy Maru\nsucceeded in fighting their way through Deschard's savages and reaching\none of the cabin doors, which, situated under the break of the high\npoop, opened to the main deck. Ere they could all gain the shelter of\nthe cabin and secure the door the second mate and one of the seamen were\ncut down and ruthlessly slaughtered, and of the three that did, one--the\nremaining seaman--was mortally wounded and dying fast.\n\nEven at such a moment as this, hardened and merciless as were their\nnatures and blood-stained their past, it cannot be thought that had\nDeschard and his co-pirates known that white women were on board the\nbrigantine they would have perpetrated their last dreadful deed. In his\nrecital of the final scene in the cabin Maru spoke of the white woman\nand the two girls coming out of their state-room and kneeling down and\npraying with their arms clasped around each other's waists. Surely the\nsound of their dying prayers could never have been heard by Deschard\nwhen, in the native tongue, he called out for one of the guns to be run\naft.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cBy and by,\u201d said Maru, \u201cwoman and girl come to captain and sailor-man\nCharlie and me and cry and say good-bye, and then captain he pray too.\nThen he get up and take cutlass, and sailor-man Charlie he take cutlass\ntoo, but he too weak and fall down; so captain say, 'Never mind,\nCharlie, you and me die now like men.'\u201d\n\nThen, cutlass in hand, the white-haired old skipper stood over the\nkneeling figures of the three women and waited for the end. And now the\nsilence was broken by a rumbling sound, and then came a rush of naked\nfeet along the deck.\n\n\u201cIt is the gun,\u201d said Maru to the captain, and in an agony of terror he\nlifted up the hatch of the lazarette under the cabin table and jumped\nbelow. And then Deschard's voice was heard.\n\n\u201c_Ta mai te ae_\u201d (Give me the fire).\n\nA blinding flash, a deafening roar, and splintering and crashing of\ntimber followed, and as the heavy pall of smoke lifted, Deschard and the\nothers looked in at their bloody work, shuddered, and turned away.\n\nPedro, the Portuguese, his dark features turned to a ghastly pallor, was\nthe only one of the four men who had courage enough to assist some of\nthe natives in removing from the cabin the bodies of the three poor\ncreatures who, but such a short time before, were full of happiness and\nhope. Deschard and the three others, after that one shuddering glance,\nhad kept away from the vicinity of the shot-torn cabin.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nThe conditions of the cutting off of the brigantine were faithfully\nobserved by the contracting parties, and long ere night fell the last\nboatload of plunder had been taken ashore. Tebarau, chief of Oneaka, had\nwith his warriors helped to heave up anchor, and the vessel, under\nshort canvas, was already a mile or two away from the land, and in his\nhiding-place in the gloomy lazarette the half-caste boy heard Corton and\nDeschard laying plans for the future.\n\nOnly these two were present in the cabin. Pedro was at the wheel, and\nTamu somewhere on deck. Presently Corton brought out the dead captain's\ndespatch box, which they had claimed from the natives, and the two began\nto examine the contents. There was a considerable amount of money in\ngold and silver, as well as the usual ship's papers, &c. Corton, who\ncould scarcely read, passed these over to his companion, and then ran\nhis fingers gloatingly through the heap of money before him.\n\nWith a hoarse, choking cry and horror-stricken eyes Deschard sprang to\nhis feet, and with shaking hand held out a paper to Corton.\n\n\u201cMy God! my God!\u201d exclaimed the unhappy wretch, and sinking down again\nhe buried his face in his hands.\n\nSlowly and laboriously his fellow ex-convict read the document through\nto the end. It was an agreement to pay the captain of the brigantine\nthe sum of one hundred pounds sterling provided that Henry Deschard\nwas taken on board the brigantine at Woodle's Island (me name Kuria was\nknown by to whaleships and others), the said sum to be increased to\ntwo hundred pounds \u201cprovided that Henry Deschard, myself, and my two\ndaughters are landed at Batavia or any other East India port within\nsixty days from leaving the said island,\u201d and was signed Anna Deschard.\n\nStaggering to his feet, the man sought in the ruined and plundered\nstate-room for further evidence. Almost the first objects that he\nsaw were two hanging pockets made of duck--evidently the work of some\nseaman--bearing upon them the names of \u201cHelen\u201d and \u201cLaura.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nPeering up from his hiding-place in the lazarette, where he had lain\nhidden under a heap of old jute bagging and other d\u00e9bris, Maru saw\nDeschard return to the cabin and take up a loaded musket. Sitting in the\ncaptain's chair, and leaning back, he placed the muzzle to his throat\nand touched the trigger with his naked foot. As the loud report rang\nout, and the cabin filled with smoke, the boy crawled from his dark\nretreat, and, stepping over the prostrate figure of Deschard, he reached\nthe deck and sprang overboard.\n\nFor hours the boy swam through the darkness towards the land, guided by\nthe lights of the fires that in the Gilbert and other equatorial islands\nare kindled at night-time on every beach. He was picked up by a fishing\nparty, and probably on account of his youth and exhausted condition his\nlife was spared.\n\nThat night as he lay sleeping under a mat in the big _maniapa_ on Kuria\nhe was awakened by loud cries, and looking seaward he saw a bright glare\naway to the westward.\n\nIt was the brigantine on fire.\n\nLaunching their canoes, the natives went out to her, and were soon close\nenough to see that she was burning fiercely from for'ard to amidships,\nand that her three boats were all on board--two hanging to the davits\nand one on the deckhouse. But of the four beachcombers there was no\nsign.\n\nKnowing well that no other ship had been near the island, and that\ntherefore the white men could not have escaped by that means without\nbeing seen from the shore, the natives, surmising that they were in a\ndrunken sleep, called loudly to them to awake; but only the roaring of\nthe flames broke the silence of the ocean. Not daring to go nearer, the\nnatives remained in the vicinity till the brigantine was nothing but a\nmastless, glowing mass of fire.\n\nTowards midnight she sank; and the last of the beachcombers of Kuria\nsank with her.\n\n\n\n\nNELL OF MULLINER'S CAMP\n\nMulliner's Camp, on the Hodgkinson, was the most hopeless-looking spot\nin the most God-forsaken piece of country in North Queensland, and\nHaughton, the amalgamator at the \u201cBig Surprise\u201d crushing-mill, as he\nturned wearily away from the battery-tables to look at his \u201cretorting\u201d\n fire, cursed silently but vigorously at his folly in staying there.\n\nIt was Saturday night, and the deadly melancholy of Mulliner's was, if\npossible, somewhat accentuated by the crash and rattle of the played-out\nold five-head battery, accompanied by the wheezings and groanings of its\nnotoriously unreliable pumping-gear. Half a mile away from the decrepid\nold battery, and situated on the summit of an adder-infested ironstone\nridge, the dozen or so of bark humpies that constituted Mulliner's Camp\nproper stood out clearly in the bright starlight in all their squat\nugliness. From the extra display of light that shone from the doorway of\nthe largest and most dilapidated-looking of the huts, Haughton knew\nthat the Cooktown mailman had come in, and was shouting a drink for the\nlandlord of the \u201cBooming Nugget\u201d before eating his supper of corned\nbeef and damper and riding onward. For Mulliner's had gone to the bad\naltogether; even the beef that the mailman was eating came from a beast\nbelonging to old Channing, of Calypso Downs, which had fallen down a\nshaft the previous night. Perhaps this matter of a fairly steady beef\nsupply was the silver lining to the black cloud of misfortune that had\nso long enshrouded the spirits of the few remaining diggers that\nstill clung tenaciously to the duffered-out mining camp, for whenever\nMulliner's ran out of meat a beast of Channing's would always--by some\nmysterious dispensation of a kindly goldfield's Providence--fall down a\nshaft and suffer mortal injuries.\n\n*****\n\nJust at the present moment Haughton, as he threw a log or two into the\nretort furnace and watched the shower of sparks fly high up over the\nbattery roof, was thinking of old Channing's daughter Kate, and\nthe curious state of affairs existing between her and his partner\nBallantyne. Briefly stated, this is what had occurred--that is, as far\nas Haughton knew.\n\nTwelve months before, Mrs. Channing, a meek-faced, religious-minded\nlady, had succumbed to the worries of life under the combined and\nprostrating influences of a galvanised iron roof, an independent\nChinaman cook, and a small powerful theological library. Immediately\nafter her death, old Channing at once wrote to his daughter, then at\nschool in Sydney, to come back \u201cand cheer up his lonely life.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor dad,\u201d said Kate, \u201cI suppose he means for me to continue poor\nmother's feeble remonstrances to Chow Kum about giving away so much\nrations to the station gins, and to lend a hand when we muster for\nbranding.\u201d\n\nHowever, being a dutiful girl, she packed up and went.\n\nOn board the steamer she had met Ballantyne, who was returning to\nQueensland to resume his mining pursuits in the Palmer District. He knew\nold Channing well by reputation as a wealthy but eccentric old squatter,\nand in a few days he managed to make the girl fall violently in love\nwith him. The day that the steamer reached Brisbane a telegram was\nbrought on board for Miss Channing. It was from her father, telling\nher that Mrs. Lankey, of Mount Brindlebul, was coming up from Sydney in\nanother week, and she was to wait in Brisbane for her. Then they were to\ntravel northward together.\n\nIf there was one woman in the world she hated it was Mrs. Lankey, of\nMount Brindlebul station, in the Gulf country, and Ballantyne, from whom\nshe could hide nothing, saw his opportunity, and took it. He took her\nashore, placed her in lodgings, went to an hotel himself, and the day\nbefore her future escort arrived, married her.\n\nPerfectly satisfied with the cogent reasons he gave for secrecy in\nnot apprising her father of their marriage, and shedding tears at the\nnonchalant manner in which he alluded to a honeymoon \u201csome time in a\nyear or so when the old man comes to know of it,\u201d pretty Kate Channing\nwent back alone to her lodgings to await Mrs. Lankey and cogitate upon\nthe peculiarly masterful way in which Ballantyne had wooed and won her.\n\nSix months afterwards she got a letter from Ballantyne, telling her that\nhe had bought Petermann's crushing mill at Mulliner's Camp, \u201cso as to be\nnear you, my pet,\u201d he said. At the same time he warned her of the folly\nof their attempting to meet, at least openly; but added that Haughton,\nhis partner, who knew of his marriage, would visit Calypso Downs\noccasionally and give her news of him; also that they could correspond\nby the same medium.\n\nThus matters stood between them for some months, till Kate, wearying to\nmeet the cold, calculating Ballantyne, adopted the device of riding over\nlate every Sunday afternoon to Mulliner's for the mail, instead of her\nfather sending over one of his black boys.\n\nBut instead of meeting her with kisses, Ballantyne terrified her with\nsavage reproaches. It was madness, he said, for her to run such a risk.\nBy and by he would be in a better position; at present he was as poor\nas a rat, and it was best for them to be apart. And Kate, thoroughly\nbelieving in him, bent to his will. She knew that her father was, as\nBallantyne thoughtfully observed, such a violent-tempered old man that\nhe would cast her off utterly unless he was \u201cmanaged\u201d properly when he\nlearnt of her marriage.\n\n\u201cAnd don't come down this way from Mulliner's,\u201d added the careful\nBallantyne. \u201cThere's an old mail tin, about a mile or so away from here,\nnear the worked-out alluvial patch. You can always drop a letter in\nthere for me. Haughton's such a good-natured ass that he'll play Mercury\nfor you. Anyway, I'll send him to look in the tin every Sunday night.\u201d\n\nThat, so far, was the history of Mr. and Mrs. Ballantyne.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cAnother duffing crushing,\u201d muttered Haughton, as he stooped and placed\nhis hand into the bucket of quicksilver under the nozzle of the retort\npipe. \u201cWhat between a reef that doesn't pan out five pennyweights to the\nton, and a woman that pans out too rich, I'm sick of the cursed place.\u201d\n\nAs he stood up again, and, hands on his hips, looked moodily into the\nfire, a woman came down the rough path leading from Ballantyne's house\nto the battery. Walking quickly across the lighted space that intervened\nbetween the blacksmith's forge and the fire, she placed a billy of tea\non the brick furnace-wall, and then turned her handsome black-browed,\ngipsy-like face up to his. This was Nell Lawson, the woman who had\n\u201cpanned out too rich.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere's your tea, Dick,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cThanks,\u201d he said, taking it from her, and then with a quick look over\ntowards the battery, \u201cI wish you wouldn't call me 'Dick' when any of the\nhands are about; Lawson might hear of it, and I don't want you to get\ninto any trouble over me.\u201d\n\nThe black eyes sparkled, and the smooth olive-hued features flushed\ndarkly in the firelight as she grasped his arm.\n\n\u201cYou lie!\u201d and she set her teeth. \u201cA lot you care! Do you think I'm a\nsilly? Do you think as I don't know that you want to sling me and don't\nknow how to go about it?\u201d and she grasped his arm savagely.\n\nHaughton looked at her in gloomy silence for a few seconds. Standing\nthere, face to face, they looked so alike in features--he wiry,\nmuscular, black-bearded, and bronzed to the hue of an Arab, and she\ntall, dark-haired, with oval, passionate face--they might have been\ntaken for brother and sister.\n\nShe let his arm free, and then, being only a working miner's wife, and\npossessing no handkerchief, whipped her apron to her eyes.\n\n\u201cYou're a damned cur!\u201d she said, chokingly. \u201cIf it hadn't ha' been for\nyou I'd ha' gone along all right wi' Bob, and put up wi' livin' in this\nplace; an' now------\u201d\n\n\u201cLook here, Nell,\u201d said Haughton, drawing her away into the shadow of\nthe forge, \u201cI'm a cur, as you say; but I'd be a worse cur to keep on\nthis way. You can't marry me, can you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou used to talk about our boltin'--_once_\u201d and she snapped out the\nlast word.\n\nHaughton tried to explain why the \u201cbolting\u201d so trenchantly referred to\ndid not eventuate. He was stone-broke. Ballantyne was going to do his\nown amalgamating at the battery, and it would be cruel of him to ask\nher to share his fortunes. (Here he began to appreciate his leaning\nto morality.) If she was a single girl he would stay at Mulliner's and\nfight it out with bad luck for her sake; but they couldn't go on like\nthis any more. And the people at Mulliner's were beginning to talk about\nthem, &c, &c.\n\nShe heard him in silence, and then gave a short, jarring laugh--the\nlaugh that ought to tell a man that he is no longer believed in--by a\nwoman who has loved him.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d she said, quietly, \u201cyou want to get clear o' me. You're took\nup with Kate Channing, the _proper_ Miss Channing that rides over here\no' Sundays to meet you on the sly.\u201d\n\nAt first he meant to undeceive her, then he thought, \u201cWhat does it\nmatter? I'll be away from here in a day or so, and after I've gone\nshe'll find I'm not so base as she thought me, poor girl;\u201d so, looking\naway from her so as to avoid the dangerous light that gleamed in her\npassionate eyes, he made the plunge.\n\n\u201cThat's it, Nell. I'm hard up and desperate. If you were a free\nwoman----\u201d\n\nShe struck him in the mouth with her clenched hand--\u201cI'll kill her\nfirst, Dick Haughton,\u201d and then left him.\n\n*****\n\nA mile or so out from the battery, on a seldom used track that led to an\nabandoned alluvial workings, a stained and weather-worn biscuit-tin had\nbeen nailed to an iron-bark tree. In the prosperous days of Mulliner's\nit had been placed there by the diggers as a receptacle for letters, and\nits location there saved the mailman a long _d\u00e9tour_ to their camp.\nAt present poor loving Kate Channing and Dick Haughton were the only\npersons who ever looked into it. After getting the station letters from\nthe landlord of the \u201cBooming Nugget,\u201d Kate would ride through the bush\nand come out on the track just opposite; then, bending down from her\nhorse, she would peer eagerly into the tin to see if a letter had been\nleft there for her. Generally there was not. So, with a sad, wistful\nlook in her blue eyes, she would drop her own tenderly-worded letter in\nand ride away home.\n\nTwice Nell Lawson had seen her passing over the ridge towards the old\nworkings, and had wondered what had taken her so far off the road; and\non each of these occasions she had seen Dick Haughton follow in the same\ndirection shortly after. He was never away more than half an hour. The\nfirst time she simply wondered, the next she grew suspicious, and as she\nsaw him returning went and stopped him. As she threw her arms around his\nneck she felt the rustling of a letter that lay loosely in the front of\nthe dungaree jumper he always wore when at work. She said nothing, but\ndetermined to watch, and one day, with the bitterest hatred gathering\nat her heart, she saw Kate Channing ride up to the tin on the iron-bark,\nlook carefully inside, and then drop in a letter. And as Nell Lawson\ncould not read she let it lay there untouched. But from that hour murder\nlay in her passionate heart.\n\nThat evening, as she entered Bob Lawson's humpy, her husband, a big,\nheavy-featured man, looked up and saw the ghastly pallor of her face.\n\n\u201cWhy, what's the matter wi' 'ee, Nell? You be lookin' quite sick-loike\nlately. Tell 'ee what, Nell, thee wants a cheange.\u201d\n\n\u201cMulliner's be a dull pleace,\u201d she answered, mechanically.\n\n\u201cAye, lass, dull as hell in a fog. Mebbe I'll take thee somewheres for a\nspell.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nFor nearly another week she nursed her hatred and planned her revenge;\nand Haughton, as he saw the dark rings forming under her eyes, and the\ncold, listless manner as she went about her work, began to experience a\nhigher phase of feeling for her than that of the mere passion which her\nbeauty had first awakened in him long months before.\n\n*****\n\nIt was five o'clock on Sunday afternoon. The fierce, blinding sun had\njust disappeared behind the hideous basalt range twenty miles away\nfrom the \u201cBig Surprise,\u201d when Nell Lawson put on her white sun-hood and\nwalked slowly towards the old alluvial workings. When well out of sight\nfrom any one, near the battery, she turned off towards the creek and\nmade for a big Leichhardt tree that stood on the bank. Underneath it,\nand evidently waiting for her, was a black fellow, a truculent-looking\nrunaway trooper named Barney.\n\n\u201cYou got him that fellow Barney?\u201d she asked, in a low voice.\n\n\u201c_Yo ai_,\u201d he replied, keeping one hand behind his back. \u201cWhere that\nplenty fellow money you yabber me vesterday?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d and she showed him some silver; \u201cten fellow shilling.\u201d\n\nBarney grinned, took the money, and then handed her an old\nbroken-handled crockery teapot, which, in place of a lid, was covered\nover with a strip of ti-tree bark, firmly secured to the bottom by a\nstrip of dirty calico.\n\nAs soon as the black fellow had gone she picked up that which he had\ngiven her and walked quickly along the track till she reached the old\nmail tin. She stood awhile and listened. Not a sound disturbed the\nheated, oppressive silence. Placing the teapot on the ground, she lifted\nthe stiff, creaking lid of the tin and pushed it well back. Then, taking\nup the teapot again, she placed one hand firmly upon the ti-tree bark\ncovering the top, while with the other she unfastened the strip of rag\nthat kept it in position. In another moment, grasping the broken spout\nin her left hand, she held it over the open tin, and, with a rapid\nmotion, turned it upside down, and whipped away her right hand from the\npiece of bark.\n\nSomething fell heavily against the bottom of the tin, and in an instant\nshe slammed down the lid, and threw the empty teapot in among the\nboulders, where it smashed to pieces. Then, an evil smile on her dark\nface, she placed her ear to the side of the tin and listened. A faint,\ncreeping, crawling sound was all she heard. In another minute, with hand\npressed tightly against her wildly beating heart, she fled homewards.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThis will be my last ride over, dear Ted,\u201d was the beginning of the\nletter to Ballantyne that lay in Channing's bosom. \u201cFather is very ill,\nand I cannot leave him. Do let me tell him, and ask his forgiveness; it\nis so miserable for me to keep up this deceit.\u201d\n\nDarkness had set in by the time she had got the mail from the landlord\nof the \u201cBooming Nugget,\u201d and turned her horse's head into the track that\nled over the ridge to the old workings.\n\n*****\n\nTwo hours before daylight, Kate Channing's horse walked riderless up\nto the sliprails of Calypso Downs, and the stockman who had kept awake\nawaiting her return, went out to let his young mistress in.\n\n\u201cGot throwed somewhere, I suppose,\u201d he grumbled, after examining the\nhorse. \u201cThis is a nice go. It's no use telling the old man about it,\nhe's too sick to be worried just now, anyway.\u201d\n\nTaking a black boy with him, and leading Kate's horse, he set out to\nlook for her, expecting, unless she was hurt, to meet her somewhere\nbetween the station and Mulliner's Camp. Just as daylight broke, the\nblack boy, who was leading, stopped.\n\n\u201cYoung missus been tumble off horse here,\u201d and he pointed to where\nthe scrubby undergrowth on one side of the track was crushed down and\nbroken.\n\nThe stockman nodded. \u201cHorse been shy I think it, Billy, at that old\nfellow post-office there?\u201d and he pointed to the old mail tin, which was\nnot ten feet from where Billy said she had fallen off.\n\n\u201cGo ahead, Billy,\u201d said the stockman, \u201cI believe young missus no catch\nhim horse again, and she walk along to Mulliner's.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Yo ai_,\u201d answered the black boy, and he started ahead. In a few\nminutes he stopped again with a puzzled look and pointed to Kate\nChanning's tracks.\n\n\u201cYoung missus been walk about all same drunk.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy jingo, she's got hurted, I fear,\u201d said the stockman. \u201cPush ahead,\nBilly.\u201d\n\nA hundred yards further on they found her dead, lying face downwards on\nthe track.\n\nLifting her cold, stiffened body in his arms, the stockman carried\nhis burden along to Ballantyne's house. Haughton met him at the door.\nTogether they laid the still figure upon the sofa in the front room,\nand then while the stockman went for Nell Lawson, Haughton went to\nBallantyne's bunk and awoke and told him. His mouth twitched nervously\nfor a second or two, and then his hard, impassive nature asserted itself\nagain.\n\n*****\n\n\u201c'Tis a terrible thing this, Ballantyne,\u201d said Haughton,\nsympathetically, as they walked out together to see the place where she\nhad been thrown.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d assented the other, \u201cdreadful. Did you hear what Channing's black\nboy told me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe says that she has died from snake-bite. I believe him, too. I saw a\nboy die on the Etheridge from snake-bite, and he looked as she does\nnow; besides that, there is not a scratch or bruise on her body, so she\ncouldn't have received any hurt unless it was an internal one when she\nwas thrown. Here's the place,\u201d and then he started back, for lying at\nthe foot of the tree was the panting, trembling figure of Nell Lawson.\n\nShe had tried to get there before them to efface all traces of her\ndeadly work.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing here, Mrs. Lawson?\u201d said Ballantyne, sharply; \u201cwe\nsent over for you; don't you know what has happened?\u201d\n\nThe strange hysterical \u201cyes\u201d that issued from her pallid lips caused\nBallantyne to turn his keen grey eyes upon her intently. Then something\nof the truth must have flashed across his mind, for he walked up to the\ntree and looked into the tin.\n\n\u201cGood God!\u201d he said, \u201cpoor little woman!\u201d and then he called to\nHaughton. \u201cCome here, and see what killed her!\u201d\n\nHaughton looked, and a deadly horror chilled his blood: lying in the\nbottom of the tin was a thick, brownish-red death adder. It raised\nits hideous, flatted head for a moment, then lowered it, and lay there\nregarding them with its deadly eye.\n\n\u201cHow did it get there?\u201d he asked.\n\nBallantyne pointed to Nell Lawson, who now stood and leant against a\ntree for support.\n\nHaughton sprang to her side and seized her hands.\n\n\u201cAre you a murderess, Nell? What had she done to you that you should\ntake her innocent life? She was nothing to me--she was Ballantyne's\nwife.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him steadily, and her lips moved, then a shrill, horrible\nlaugh burst forth, and she fell unconscious at his feet.\n\nThat day Haughton left Mulliner's Camp for ever.\n\n*****\n\nPerhaps this story should have another ending, and Nell Lawson have met\nwith a just retribution. But, as is the case of many other women--and\nmen--with natures such as hers, she did not. For when old Channing lay\ndying she nursed him tenderly to the last, and perhaps because of this,\nor for that he could never understand why blue-eyed Kate had never\ncome back, he left her all he had, much to the wondering admiration of\nhonest, dull-witted Bob, her husband, who almost immediately after\nthe old man's death, when returning home one night from the \u201cBooming\nNugget,\u201d filled with a great peace of mind and a considerable quantity\nof bad rum, fell down a shaft and broke his neck, after the manner of\none of old Channing's bullocks--and then she married Ballantyne.\n\nEverything seems to come to him who waits--especially if he is\nsystematic in his villainy, and has a confiding wife--as had Ballantyne\nin his first matrimonial venture.\n\n\n\n\nAURIKI REEF\n\nOne evening, not long ago, an old island comrade and I sat on the\nverandah looking out upon the waters of Sydney Harbour, smoking and\ntalking of the old wild days down there in the Marshall group, among\nthe brown people who dwell on the white beaches under the shade of the\nswaying palms. And as we talked, the faces of those we had known came\nback one by one to our memories, and passed away.\n\n*****\n\nIn front of us, with her tall, black spars cutting out clearly against\nthe flood of moonlight, that lit up the waters of the quiet little bay,\nlay the old _Wolverene_--to both of us a silent reminder of one night\nnot long ago, under far-off skies, when the old corvette sailed past\nour little, schooner, towering up above us, a cloud of spotless white\ncanvas, as she gracefully rose and sank to the long sweep of the ocean\nswell.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cPoor old Tierney,\u201d said my friend, alluding to the captain of that\nlittle schooner. \u201cHe's dead now; blew his hand off with dynamite down in\nthe Gilbert Group--did you know?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. What a good fellow he was! There are few like him left now. Aye,\nfew indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the way, did he ever tell you about Jack Lester and his little\ndaughter, Tessa?\u201d\n\n\u201cSomething of it. You were with him in the _Mana_ that trip, weren't\nyou?\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said my friend, \u201cBrayley and I both. He had been up to Honolulu,\nsick; and he came on board of the _Mana_ and seemed so anxious to\nget back to his station on Maduro that Tierney--good old fellow as he\nwas--told him to bring his traps aboard, and he would land him there\non the way to Samoa. His wife had died five years before, and he had to\nleave his station in the care of his daughter, a child of twelve or so.\nNot that he fretted much about the station--it was only the little girl\nhe thought of.\u201d\n\nWe smoked on in silence awhile. Then my friend resumed--\n\n\u201cI shall never forget that voyage. It was a night such as this that it\nhappened--I mean that affair of the boat on Auriki Reef.\u201d\n\nFifteen years ago is a long time to try back, and although I had been\ntold something of a strange incident that had occurred during one voyage\nof the Hawaiian schooner _Mana_ (she is now a Sydney collier), I could\nnot recall the circumstances.\n\nSo then my friend told me the story of the boat on Auriki Reef.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cI have told you that Brayley was a man of few words. But sometimes as\nwe paced the deck together at night, as the schooner skimmed over the\nseas before the lusty trade-wind, he would talk to me of his child; and\nit was easy for me to see that his love for her was the one hope of his\nlife.\n\n\u201c'I am going back to England soon,' he said to me one night; 'there is\nbut one of us left--my sister--and I would like to see her face again\nin this world. She is older than I--she is past fifty now.... And it is\nthirty years since I said good-bye to her... thirty years... thirty long\nyears,' and then he turned his face away and looked out upon the sea.\n'Just to see her, and then say good-bye again, for here I have cast my\nlot, and here I will die. If I were alone in the world perhaps I would\ntake to civilisation again, but Tessa'--he shook his head--'she would\nwither and die in cold England.'\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cTen days out we ran in amongst the Radack Chain of the Marshall\nIslands, and the wind falling light, and being surrounded by reefs and\nlow uninhabited coral atolls, Tierney brought to, and anchored for\nthe night. You know the spot, about nine miles due west of Ailuk, and\nbetween two sandy atolls covered with a scant growth of cocoanuts and\npan-danus palms.\n\n\u201cThe ship being all right the hands turned in, leaving only one man on\nwatch, while we three white men laid down aft to smoke and yarn. It was\na bright moonlight night, as light as day--just such a night as this.\nAway on our port quarter, distant about a quarter of a mile, was a\nshallow patch on which the surf was breaking. It was merely one of those\nflat patches of coral that, rising up steep from the bottom, have deep\nwater all round them, but are always covered on the surface by a depth\nof one or two fathoms--c mushrooms,' we call them, you know. Well, it\nwas such a wonderfully clear night that that shallow patch, with the\nsurf hissing and swirling over and around it, was as clearly visible\nto us on the schooner as if it had been under our counter, not ten feet\naway.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cCovering up my face from the vivid moonlight with a soft native mat, I\nlaid down, and after awhile dropped off to sleep.\n\n\u201cHow long I had been asleep I did not know then--I learnt afterwards\nthat it was nearly four hours--when I was awakened by a loud hail of\n'Boat ahoy!' called out by some one on board.\n\n\u201cI was awake in an instant, and sprang to my feet.\n\n\u201c'What is it?' I said to Tierney and Brayley, who were standing close to\nme, looking out towards the breaking reef. 'Where is the boat that you\nare hailing?'\n\n\u201cNeither of them answered; Tierney, turning towards me for a second,\nmade a curious half-commanding, half-imploring gesture as if to ask my\nsilence, and then gripping Brayley by his shoulder, stared wildly at the\nwhite seeth of the breakers astern of us.\n\n\u201cA quick look along the decks for'ard showed me that all the native\nsailors were on deck and clustered together in the waist, as far aft as\nthey dared come. Each man had hold of his fellow, and with open mouths\nand wildly staring eyes they stood like statues of bronze, in an\nattitude of horror and amazement.\n\n\u201c'What is it?' I commenced again, when Tierney slowly raised his\nclenched and shaking hand and touched me.\n\n\u201c'Look,' he said, in a strange, quivering whisper, 'in the name of God,\nman, what is that?'\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cI followed the direction of his shaking hand. It pointed along the\nbroad, golden stream of moonlight that ran from close under our stern\nright across to the low, black line that we knew was Ailuk Island. For a\nmoment I saw nothing, then, suddenly, amid the wild boil of the surf in\nAuriki, I saw a boat, a white-painted boat with a black gunwale streak.\nOne person seemed to be sitting aft with his face drooping upon his\nbreast. The boat seemed to me to be in the very centre of the wild\nturmoil of waters, and yet to ride with perfect ease and safety.\nPresently, however, I saw that it was on the other side of the reef, yet\nso close that the back spray from the curling rollers must have fallen\nupon it.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cPushing Captain Tierney away from him, Brayley suddenly seemed to\nstraighten himself, and taking a step in advance of us he again hailed--\n\n\u201c'Boat, ahoy!'\n\n\u201cThe loud, hoarse cry pealed over the waters, but no answer came from\nthe silent figure, and then Brayley turned towards us. His bronzed\nfeatures had paled to the hue of death, and for a moment or two his\nmouth twitched.\n\n\u201c'For God's sake, Tierney, call the hands and lower the boat. It is\nnothing from the other world that we see--_it is my daughter, Tessa_.'\n\n\u201cIn a second the old man sprang into life and action, and in a shrill\nvoice that sounded like a scream he called, 'Man the boat, lads!'\n\n\u201cBefore one could have counted twenty the boat was in the water, clear\nof the falls, and Tierney and Brayley, with a crew of four natives, were\npulling swiftly for the other boat.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cIn a few minutes they reached her, just as a big roller had all but got\nher and carried her right on top of Auriki. I saw Brayley get out of our\nboat and into the other, and lift the sitting figure up in his arms, and\nthen Tierney made fast a line, took the strange boat in tow, and headed\nback for the ship.\n\n\u201cWhen the boat was within speaking distance, Tierney hailed me--'Get\nsome brandy ready--she is alive.'\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWe carried her into the cabin, and as Brayley bent his face over the\npoor, wasted figure of his child, the hot tears ran down his cheeks, and\nTierney whispered to me, 'She is dying fast.'\n\n\u201cWe all knew that as soon as we looked at her. Already the grey shadows\nwere deepening on the face of the wanderer as we gathered around her,\nspeaking in whispers. Suddenly the loud clamour of the ship's bell,\nstruck by an unthinking sailor, made the girl's frame quiver.\n\n\u201cWith a look of intense pity the captain motioned to Brayley to raise\nher head to try and get her to swallow a teaspoonful of water. Tenderly\nthe trader raised her, and then for a moment or two the closed, weary\neyelids slowly drew back and she gazed into his face.\n\n\u201c'Thank God,' the captain said, 'she knows you, Brayley.'\n\n\u201cA faint, flickering smile played about her lips and then ceased. Then a\nlong, low sigh, and her head fell upon his breast.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cAt daylight we hove-up anchor and stood on our course for Brayley's\nStation on Arhnu. Just as we rounded the south end of Ailuk Island we\nsaw the _Lahaina_, schooner, lying-to and signalling that she wanted\nto speak. Her skipper came aboard, and hurriedly shaking hands with us,\nasked if we knew that Jack Brayley's little Tessa had gone adrift in his\nboat ten days ago.\n\n\u201cSilently Tierney led him to the open skylight and pointed down to where\nshe lay with her father kneeling beside her.\n\n\u201c'Poor man!' said the skipper of the _Lahaina_. 'I'm real sorry. I heerd\nfrom the natives that Tessa and two native girls and a boy took the\nwhaleboat, for a joke like, and she said she was going to meet her\nfather, as she had seen him in her sleep, an' she reckoned he was close\nto on the sea somewhere. I guess the poor thing's got swept to leeward\nby the current. They had a sail in the boat.'\n\n\u201c'Aye,' said Tierney, 'a squall must have struck the boat and carried\naway the mast; it was snapped off short about a foot above the thwart.'\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhen we ran into Maduro Lagoon three days afterwards our flag was\nhalf-mast high for Tessa Brayley, and for her father as well--for we had\nfound him the next morning on his knees beside her, cold and stiff in\ndeath, with his dead hand clasped around hers.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nAT THE EBBING OF THE TIDE\n\nBlack Tom's \u201chell\u201d was one of the institutions of Samoa. And not\nan unpleasant hell to look at--a long, rambling, one-storeyed,\nwhite-painted wooden building, hidden on the beach side from ships\nentering Apia Harbour by a number of stately cocoanuts; and as you came\nupon it from the palm-shaded track that led from the brawling little\nVaisigago towards the sweeping curve of Matautu Point, the blaze of\nscarlet hibiscus growing within the white-paled garden fence gave\nto this sailors' low drinking-den an inviting appearance of sweetest\nArcadian simplicity.\n\nThat was nineteen years ago. If you walk along the Matautu path now and\nask a native to show you where Tom's house stood, he will point to a\nsmooth, grass-covered bank extending from the right-hand side of the\npath to the coarse, black sand of Matautu beach. And, although many of\nthe present white residents of the Land of the Treaty Powers have heard\nor Black Tom, only a few grizzled old traders and storekeepers, relics\nof the bygone lively days, can talk to you about that grim deed of one\nquiet night in September.\n\n*****\n\nTamasi Uliuli (Black Thomas), as he was called by the natives, had come\nto Samoa in the fifties, and, after an eventful and varied experience in\nother portions of the group, had settled down to business in Matautu\nas a publican, baker and confectioner, butcher, seamen's crimp, and\ninterpreter. You might go all over the Southern States, from St.\nAugustine to Galveston, and not meet ten such splendid specimens of\nnegro physique and giant strength as this particular coloured gentleman.\nTom had married a Samoan woman--Inusia--who had borne him three\nchildren, two daughters and one son. Of this latter I have naught to\nsay here, save that the story of _his_ short life and tragic end is one\ncommon enough to those who have had any experience of a trader's life\namong the betel-chewing savages of fever-haunted New Britain. And the\neldest daughter may also \u201cstand out\u201d of this brief tale.\n\n*****\n\nLuisa was black. There was no doubt about that. But she was also comely;\nand her youthful, lissom figure as she walked with springy step to the\nbathing-place at the Vaisigago gave her a striking individuality among\nthe lighter-coloured Samoan girls who accompanied her. Yet to all of us\nwho lived in Matautu the greatest charms of this curly-haired half-caste\nwere the rich, sweet voice and gay laugh that brightened up her\ndark-hued countenance as we passed her on the path and returned her\ncheerful \u201cTalofa, _alii!_\u201d with some merry jest. And, although none of\nus had any inclination to go into her father's pub. and let _him_ serve\nus with a bottle of Pilsener, Luisa's laughing face and curly head\ngenerally had attraction enough to secure, in the course of the day,\na good many half-dollars for the 50lb. beef-keg which was Black Tom's\ntreasury.\n\n*****\n\nIt gave us a shock one day to see Luisa emerging from the mission chapel\nwith a white-haired old man by her side--married. The matter had been\narranged very quietly. For about two months previously this ancient had\nbeen one of Black Tom's boarders. He was from New Zealand, and had come\nto Samoa to invest his money in trade, and being, perhaps, of a retiring\nand quiet disposition the sight of Mr. Thomas Tilton's innocent-looking\ndwelling attracted him thither. Anyhow, old Dermott remained there, and\nit was noticeable that, from the day of his arrival, Tamasi Uliuli\nexacted the most rigid performance of morning and evening devotions by\nhis family, and that the nightly scenes of riot and howling drunkenness,\nthat had theretofore characterised the \u201chotel,\u201d had unaccountably toned\ndown. In fact, burly old Alvord, the consular interpreter, who had been\naccustomed to expostulate with Tom for the number of prostrate figures,\nredolent of bad rum, lying outside on the path in the early morning,\nshowing by the scarcity of their attire that they had been \u201cgone\nthrough\u201d by thieving natives, expressed the opinion that Tom was either\ngoing mad, or \u201cwas getting consairned\u201d about his sinful soul.\n\n*****\n\nThe knowledge of the fact that old Dermott had so much worldly wealth\nstowed away in his camphor-wood trunk, may have had (doubtless it did)\nthe effect of causing this remarkable change in Tom's daily conduct.\nDermott, in his way, was sourly religious; and, although not\nunderstanding a word of Samoan, was fond of attending the native church\nat Apia--always in the wake of Luisa, Toe-o-le-Sasa, and other young\ngirls. His solemn, wrinkled visage, with deep-set eyes, ever steadily\nfixed upon the object of his affection, proved a source of much\ndiversion to the native congregation, and poor Luisa was subjected to\nthe usual Samoan jests about the _toe'ina_ and _ulu tula_ (old man and\nbald head), and would arrive from the church at her father's hell in a\nstate of suppressed exasperation.\n\nThe happy marriage had been celebrated by Tom and his _client\u00e8le_ in a\nmanner befitting the occasion and the supposed wealth of the bridegroom,\nThen none of us saw Luisa for a week at the bathing-place, and her\nnon-appearance was discussed with interest at the nightly kava-drinking\nat half-caste Johnny Hall's public-house. Old Toi'foi, duenna of the\nkava-chewing girls, used to say solemnly that the old man had Luisa\nlocked up in her room as she was _vale_ (obstinate), and sat on a chair\noutside and looked at her through a hole in the wall.\n\n*****\n\nAn hour after midnight on one of those silent tropic nights when naught\nis heard but the muffled boom of the ocean swell on the outer reef, a\nshot rang out through the sleeping village, and then a long wail as of\nsome one in mortal agony or terror. L\u00e9ger, the Canadian carpenter at\nMacfarlane's store, was, in company with Alvord the Swearer, and Pedro\nthe Publican, and marry of us general sinners, up late at the kava-bowl\nwhen Leva, the prettiest girl on the Point, and the most notorious\n_nymphe du beach_ in Apia (there are no pavements in Samoa), dashed in\namongst its with the announcement that \u201cLuisa was dead.\u201d In another\nten seconds we kava-drinkers, with unsteady legs but clear heads, were\noutside on our way to Black Tom's house, which was within pistol-shot.\n\n*****\n\nAn old man with a throat cut from ear to ear is not a cheerful sight\nat any time, and we turned quickly away from where he lay on the once\nspotless white bed, now an ensanguined horror, to look at poor Luisa,\nwho lay on a mat on the floor, gasping out her brief young life. Her\nhead was pillowed on her mother's bosom, and down her side the blood\nran from the jagged bullet-hole. On a chair sat the herculean figure\nof Black Tom with his face in his hands, through which splashed heavy\ntears. Slowly he rocked himself to and fro in the manner of his race\nwhen strongly moved; and when he tried to speak there only struck upon\nour ears a horrible gasping noise that somehow made us turn again to the\nawful thing on the bed to see if it had aught to say upon the matter.\n\n*****\n\nLuisa spoke but little. The kind-faced, quiet-voiced missionary doctor\ntold her that which she already knew too well; and then we drew away\nwhile he spoke of other things, and we saw the look of dread and horror\non the comely young face pass away and a faint smile part the lips that\nwere already touched by the grim shadow of coming dissolution. Some of\nher village playmates and companions, with wet cheeks, bent their faces\nand touched her lips with theirs, and to each she sighed a low _To Fa_\nof farewell, and then she looked toward the shaking bent figure in the\nchair and beckoned him over. With noiseless tread he came, and then,\nwith her very soul looking at him from her great, death-stricken eyes,\nshe murmured, \u201cFear not, my father, my mouth is covered by the hand of\nDeath; farewell!\u201d *****\n\nThe sound of the soft lapping of the falling tide came through the open\nwindow as Luisa spoke again to To\u00eb-o-le-Sasa, the Maid of Apia--\u201cE Toe,\n_e pae afea te tai_?\u201d (\u201cWhen is the tide out?\u201d) And the girl answered\nwith a sob in her throat, \u201cIn quite a little while, O friend of my\nheart.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Ua lelei_. (It is well.) And as the waters run out so does my soul\nfloat away!\u201d and she turned her face to her mother's bosom. And as we\nwent softly out from the room and stood upon the path with the lofty\npalm-plumes rustling above us, we saw the first swirling wave of the\nincoming tide ripple round Matautu Point and plash on Hamilton's beach.\nAnd from within the silent house answered the wail of Death.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FALLACIES OF HILLIARD\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nWith clenched hand grasping the two letters--the one that sank his last\nhope of saving his plantation, and the other that blasted his trust in\nhuman nature--Hilliard, the planter of Nairai Viwa, walked with quick,\nfirm step to his house, and sat down to think awhile. The great cotton\n\u201cburst-up\u201d had ruined most men in Fiji, and although long delayed in his\ncase the blow had crushed him utterly.\n\nAn angry flush tinged his set features for a few seconds as he re-read\nthe curt, almost savage denial, by his father of the \u201ccouple of\nthousand\u201d asked for. \u201cA fool to resign his commission in the Service and\ngo into a thing he knew nothing about, merely to humour the fantastic\nwhim of a woman of fashion who will, no doubt, now sheer very clear of\nyour wrecked fortunes.\u201d\n\nTen minutes previously when Hilliard, who had thought his father would\nnever see him go under for the sake of a couple of thou., had read these\nlines he had smiled, even with the despair of broken fortune at his\nheart, as he looked at the other letter yet unopened.\n\nKitty, at least, would stick to him. He was not a maudlin\nsentimentalist, but the memory of her farewell kisses was yet strong\nwith him; and his past experiences of woman's weaknesses and his own\nstrength justified him in thinking that in this one woman he had found\nhis pearl of great price.\n\nThen he read her letter; and as he read the tappa mallets at work in the\nFijian houses hard by seemed to thump in unison with the dull\nbeats of his heart as he stared at the correctly-worded and\nconventionally-expressed lines that mocked at his fond imaginings of but\na few breaths back.\n\n*****\n\nJimmy, the curly-headed half-caste who had brought him his letters from\nLevuka, had followed in his steps and was sitting, hat in hand, on the\nsofa before him when Hilliard raised his face. The fixed pallor had left\nhis bronzed cheeks. For an instant the face of another man had passed\nbefore him--Lamington, his one-time fellow-officer, whom every one but\nHilliard himself looked upon as being \u201cfirst in the running\u201d with the\nwoman who had pledged herself to him. But, then, Lamington himself had\ntold him that she had refused him, heir to a big fortune as he was, and\nthey had shaken hands, and Lamington had wished him luck in his honest,\ngood-natured fashion. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d and here the dark flush mantled his\nforehead, \u201che's tried again and she's slung me. And I... what a damnably\nunpleasant and quick intuition of women's ways my old dad has! I always\nwondered why such a fiery devil as he was married such a milk-and-water\ncreature as my good mother. By ------, I begin to think he went on safe\nlines, and I on a fallacy!\u201d\n\nThe stolid face of Jimmy recalled him to the present. He must give up\nthe plantation and take a berth of some sort. From the sideboard he took\na flask of liquor and poured out two big drinks.\n\n\u201cHere, Jimmy, my boy. This is the last drink you'll get on Nairai Viwa.\nI'm burst up, cleaned out, dead broke, and going to hell generally.\u201d\n\nJimmy grunted and held out his brown hand for the grog. \u201cYes? I s'pose\nyou'll go to Levuka first? I'll give you a passage in the cutter.\u201d\n\nHilliard laughed with mingled bitterness and sarcasm. \u201cRight, Jimmy.\nLevuka is much like the other place, and I'll get experience there, if I\ndon't get a billet.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere's luck to you, sir, wherever you go,\u201d and Jimmy's thick lips glued\nthemselves lovingly to the glass.\n\nHilliard drank his oft quietly, only muttering to himself, \u201cHere's\ngood-bye to the fallacies of hope,\u201d and then, being at bottom a man\nof sense and quick resolution, he packed his traps and at sunset went\naboard the cutter. As they rippled along with the first puffs of the\nland-breeze, he glanced back but once at the lights of Nairai Viwa\nvillage that illumined the cutter's wake, and then, like a wise man, the\nhopes and dreams of the past drifted astern too.\n\nAnd then for the next two years he drifted about from one group to\nanother till he found an island that suited him well--no other white man\nlived there.\n\n*****\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nThe laughing, merry-voiced native children who, with speedy feet, ran to\nthe house of Ili\u00e2ti, the trader, to tell him that a visitor was coming\nfrom the man-of-war, had gathered with panting breath and hushed\nexpectancy at the door as the figure of the naval officer turned a bend\nin the path, his right hand clasped with a proud air of proprietorship\nby that or the ten-year-old son of Alberti the Chief.\n\nIliati with a half-angry, half-pleased look, held out his hand.\n\u201cLamington!\u201d\n\n\u201cHilliard! old fellow. Why didn't you come on board i Are all your old\nfriends forgotten?\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cPretty nearly, Lamington. Since I came a cropper over that accursed\ncotton swindle I've not had any inclination to meet any one I\nknew--especially any one in the Service, but\u201d--and his voice rang\nhonestly, \u201cI always wondered whether you and I would ever meet again.\u201d\n\n\u201cHilliard,\u201d and Lamington placed his hand on the trader's shoulder, \u201cI\nknow all about it. And look here, old man. I saw her only two months\nago--at her especial request. She sent for me to talk about you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d and the trader's voice sounded coldly, \u201cI thought, long ago, that\nshe had reconsidered her foolish decision of other days and had long\nsince become Mrs. Lamington. But it doesn't interest me, old fellow. Can\nyou drink Fiji rum, Lamington? Haven't anything better to offer you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI'll drink anything you've got, old fellow, even liquid Tophet boiled\ndown to a small half-pint; but I want you to listen to me first. I've\nbeen a bit of a scoundrel to you, but, by God, old man, I exchanged into\nthe beastly old _Petrel_ for this cruise expressly to find you and make\na clean breast of it. I promised her I would.\u201d\n\n\u201cConfound it all, Lamington, don't harrow your feelings needlessly, and\nlet us have the rum and talk about anything else.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, we won't. Look here, Hilliard, it sounds beastly low, but I must\nget it out. We met again--at a ball in Sydney more than two years\nago. Some infernal chattering women were talking a lot of rot about the\nplanters in Fiji having very pretty and privileged native servants--and\nall that, you know. She fired up and denied it, but came and asked me if\nit was true, and I was mean enough not to give it a straight denial. How\nthe devil it happened I can't tell you, but we danced a deuce of a lot\nand I lost my senses and asked her again, and she said 'Yes.' Had she\nbeen any other woman but Miss ------, I would have concluded that the\nsoft music and all that had dazed her. It does sometimes--lots of 'em;\nmakes the most virtuous wife wish she could be a sinner and resume her\nnormal goodness next day. But Kitty is different. And it was only that\ninfernal twaddle caused it and made her write you that letter. A week\nhadn't passed before she wrote to me and told me how miserable she was.\nBut I knew all through she didn't care a d------about me. And that's the\nway it occurred, old man.\u201d\n\nHilliard's hand met his. \u201cSay no more about it, Lamington; it's a _mea\nmat\u00ea_ as we say here--a thing that is past.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, good God, old fellow, you don't understand. She's written ever so\nmany times to you. No one in Levuka knew where you had gone to; there's\nthousands of islands in the South Seas. And this letter here,\u201d he held\nit toward him, \u201cshe gave to me, and I promised her on my honour as a man\nto effect an exchange into the _Petrel_ and find you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks, Lamington. You always were a good fellow.\u201d He laid the letter\non the table quietly and rose and got the rum.\n\n*****\n\nA young native girl, with deep lustrous eyes shining from a face of\nalmost childish innocence, had entered the door and stood with one bare\nand softly-rounded arm clasped round the neck of Alberti's little son.\nHer lips parted in a smile as Lamington, with a gasping cough, set down\nhis glass after drinking the potent spirit, and she set her brows\nin mock ferocity at Hilliard who drank his down like an old-time\nbeachcomber.\n\n\u201cBy Jove, Hilliard, what an astonishingly pretty face! She could give\nany New Orleans cr\u00e9ole points. Time you got out of this before some of\nthe Rotumah beauties make you forget things; and oh, by the way, I'm\nforgetting things. Remember you are to come aboard and dine with us\nto-night, and that you're in indifferent health, and that Captain\n------, of Her Majesty's ship _Petrel_ is going to give you a passage to\nSydney.\u201d\n\nAt an angry sign from Hilliard the girl disappeared. Then he shook his\nhead. \u201cNo, Lamington. I appreciate your kindness, but cannot accept it.\nI've been here two years now, and Alberti, the principal local chief,\nthinks no end of me; and he's a deuced fine fellow, and has been as good\nas ten fathers to me. And I've business matters to attend to as well.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nLamington pressed him no further. \u201cLucky devil,\u201d he thought. \u201cI suppose\nhe'll clear out in the trading schooner to Sydney, next week; be there\nlong before us any way, and I'll find them well over the first stage of\nmarried infatuation when I see him next.\u201d\n\nAnother hour's chat of old times and old shipmates in the _Challenger_\nand Lamington, with his honest, clean-shaven face looking into the\nquiet, impassive features of the ex-officer, had gripped his hand and\ngone, and Hilliard went over to the house of Alberti, the chief,\nto drink _kava_--and see the old French priest. From there, an hour\nafterward, he saw the cruiser with wet, shining sides dip into the\nlong roll of the ocean swell, as with the smoke pouring from her yellow\nfunnel she was lost to sight rounding the point.\n\n*****\n\nSaid the son of Alberti to L\u00e9la, the innocent-faced girl with the\ndancing, starlike eyes and red lips, as they stood watching the last\ncurling rings of the steamer's smoke--\u201cAnd so that is why I knew much of\nwhat the _papalagi_ from the man-of-war said to your Ili\u00e2ti; Alberti, my\nfather, has taught me much of your man's tongue. # And, look thou, L\u00e9la\nthe Cunning, Ili\u00e2ti hath a wife in his own country!\u201d\n\n\u201cPah!\u201d--and she shook her long, wavy locks composedly, and then plucked\na scarlet hibiscus flower to stick in front of one of her pretty little\nears--\u201cwhat does that matter to me, fathead? I am she here; and when\nIli\u00e2ti goeth away to her she will be me there. But he loveth me more\nthan any other on Rotumah, and hath told me that where he goeth I shall\ngo also. And who knoweth but that if I have a son he may marry me?\nThen shalt thou see such a wedding-feast as only rich people give. And\nlisten--for why should I not tell thee: 'Tis well to starve thyself now,\nfor it may be to-morrow, for look! fathead, there goeth the priest into\nthy father's house, and Ili\u00e2ti is already there.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\nA TALE OF A MASK\n\nLannigan, who lived on Motukoe, was in debt to his firm. This was partly\ndue to his fondness for trade gin and partly because Bully Hayes had\ncalled at the island a month or so back and the genial Bully and he had\nplayed a game or two of poker.\n\n\u201cI'll give you your revenge when I come back from the Carolines,\nLannigan,\u201d said the redoubtable captain as he scooped in every dollar of\nthe trader's takings for the past six months. And Lannigan, grasping\nhis hand warmly and declaring it was a pleasure to be \u201cclaned out by a\ngintleman,\u201d bade him good-bye and went to sleep away from home for a\nday with some native friends. Tariro, his Manhiki wife, had a somewhat\nviolent temper, and during the poker incident had indulged in much\nvituperative language outside, directed at white men in general and\nLannigan in particular.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cSee, thou swiller of gin, see what thy folly has brought us to,\u201d said\nthe justly-incensed Tariro, when he came back, and with her took stock\nof his trade goods; \u201ca thousand and five hundred dollars' worth of trade\ncame we here with, and thou hast naught to show for it but five casks\nof oil and a few stinking shark-fins; and surely the ship of the _malo_\n(his firm) will be here this month.\u201d\n\nLannigan was in a bit of a fix. The firm he was trading for on Motukoe\ndidn't do business in the same free-and-easy way as did Bobby Towns'\ncaptains and the unconventional Bully Hayes. They made him sign papers,\nand every time the ship came the rufous-headed Scotch supercargo took\nstock, and a violent altercation would result over the price of the\ntrade; but as the trader generally had a big lot of produce for the\nship, matters always ended amicably. He--or rather his wife, Tariro--was\ntoo good a trader to have an open rupture with, and the wordy warfare\nalways resulted in the trader saying, in his matter-of-fact way, \u201cWell,\nI suppose it's right enough. You only rob me wanst in twelve months, and\nI rob the natives here every day of my life. Give me in a case of gin,\nan' I'll send ye a pig.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nBut he had never been so much in debt as he was now. Tariro and he\ntalked it over, and hit upon a plan. He was to say, when the ship came,\nthat he had but five casks of oil; all his trade had been sold for cash,\nand the cash--a thousand dollars--represented by a bag of copper bolts\npicked up on the reef from an old wreck, was to be taken off to the ship\nand accidentally dropped overboard as it was being passed up on deck.\nThis was Lannigan's idea, and Tariro straightway tied up the bolts in\nreadiness in many thicknesses of sail-cloth.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cHere's Lannigan coming,\u201d called out the captain of the trading vessel\nto the supercargo, a week or so afterwards, \u201cand that saucy Manhiki\nwoman as usual with him, to see that he doesn't get drunk. The devil\ntake such as her! There's no show of getting him tight.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow are you, Lannigan?\u201d said the supercargo, wiping his perspiring\nbrow. He had just come out of the hold where he had been opening tinned\nmeats, and putting all the \u201cblown\u201d tins he could find into one especial\ncase--for Lannigan. This was what he called \u201cmakin' a mairgin for loss\non the meats, which didna pay well.\u201d\n\n\u201cFine,\u201d said the genial Lannigan, \u201can' I haven't got but five casks of\noil for yez. Devil a drop av oil would the people make when they looked\nat the bewtiful lot av trade ye gave me last time. They just rushed me\nwid cash, an' I tuk a matter av a thousand dollars or so in a month.\u201d\n\n\u201cVerra guid business,\u201d said the supercargo, \u201cbut ye made a gran'\nmeestake in selling the guids for Cheelian dollars instead of oil.\nAn' sae I must debit ye wi' a loss of twenty-five par cent, on the\nmoney----\u201d\n\n\u201cChile dollars be damned!\u201d said Lannigan; \u201call good American\ndollars--we've had about twenty whaleships here, buyin' pigs an' poultry\nan' pearl shell.\u201d\n\n\u201cTwenty-one ship!\u201d said Tariro, blowing the smoke of her cigarette\nthrough her pretty little nose.\n\n\u201cWhaur's the money, onyway?\u201d said the supercargo; \u201clet's get to\nbusiness, Lannigan. Eh, mon, I've some verra fine beef for ye.\u201d\n\n\u201cGet the bag up out of the boat, Tariro,\u201d said the trader; \u201cit's mighty\nfrightened I was havin' so much money in the house at wanst, wid all\nthem rowdy Yankee sailors from the whaleships ashore here.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThere was a great crowd of natives on deck--over a hundred--and the mate\nwas swearing violently at them for getting in his way. The schooner\nwas a very small vessel, and Motukoe being her first place of call for\ncargo, she was in light trim, having only her trade and a little ballast\non board.\n\n\u201cSend those natives away from the galley,\u201d he called out to the cook,\nwho was giving some of the young women ship-biscuits in exchange for\nyoung cocoanuts; \u201ccan't you see the ship keeps flying up in the wind\nwith all those people for'ard!\u201d\n\n*****\n\nHekemanu, Lannigan's native \u201cMan Jack,\u201d sat in the boat towing\nalongside, with the bag of \u201cdollars\u201d at his feet. He and all the boat's\ncrew were in the secret. Lannigan owned their souls; besides, they all\nliked him on Motukoe.\n\nTariro stood for a moment beside the captain, indulging in the usual\nbroad \u201cchaff,\u201d and then leaning over the rail she called out to\nHekemanu: _Ta mai te taga tupe_ (\u201cgive me the bag of money\u201d).\n\nThe man for'ard hauled on the line to bring the boat alongside the\nschooner, and Hekemanu stood up with the heavy bag in his hand.\n\n\u201cHold on there, you fool! If you drop that bag I'll knock your head\noff,\u201d said the skipper. \u201cHere, Mr. Bates, just you jump down and take\nthat money from that native, or he'll drop it, sure.\u201d\n\nBefore Hekemanu had time to let it fall over the side the mate had\njumped into the boat and taken it.\n\nLannigan, putting his head up out of the little cabin, groaned inwardly\nas he saw the mate step over the rail with the fateful bag and hand it\nto the supercargo.\n\n\u201cBe the powers, ye're in a mighty hurry for the money,\u201d said Lannigan,\nroughly, taking it from him, \u201cye might ax me if I had a mouth on me\nfirst.\u201d\n\nThe supercargo laughed and put a bottle of gin on the table, and\nLannigan's fertile brain commenced to work. If he could only get the\nsupercargo out of the cabin for a minute he meant to pick up the bag,\nand declaring he was insulted get it back into his boat and tell him\nto come and count it ashore. Then he could get capsized on the reef and\nlose it. They were always having \u201cbarneys,\u201d and it would only be looked\nupon as one of his usual freaks.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhat the deuce is that?\u201d he said, pointing to a hideous,\nhighly-coloured paper mask that hung up in the cabin.\n\nThe supercargo handed it to him. \u201cIt's for a man in Samoa--a silly,\njoking body, always playing pranks wi' the natives, and I thoct he would\nlike the thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cBedad, 'tis enough to scare the sowl out av the divil,\u201d said Lannigan.\n\nJust then a mob of natives came aft, and the two men in the cabin heard\nthe captain tell them to clear out again. They were saucy and wouldn't\ngo. Hekemanu had told them of the failure of Lannigan's dodge, and they\nhad an idea that the ship would take him away, and stood by to rescue\nhim at the word of command.\n\n\u201cI'll verra soon hunt them,\u201d said the supercargo, with a proud smile,\nand he put the mask on his face. Tariro made a bolt on deck and called\nout to the natives that the supercargo was going to frighten them with a\nmask.\n\n*****\n\nInstead of wild yells of fear and jumping overboard, as he imagined\nwould happen, the natives merely laughed, but edged away for'ard.\n\nThe schooner was in quite close to the reef; the water was very deep,\nand there was no danger of striking. She was under jib and mainsail\nonly, but the breeze was fresh and she was travelling at a great rate.\nThe wind being right off the land the skipper was hugging the reef as\nclosely as possible, so as to bring up and anchor on a five-fathom patch\nabout a mile away.\n\n\u201cHere, quit that fooling,\u201d he called out to the supercargo, \u201cand come\naft, you fellows! The ship is that much down by the head she won't pay\noff, with the helm hard up.\u201d\n\nOne look at the crowd of natives and another at the shore, and a wild\nidea came into Lannigan's head. He whispered to Tariro, who went up\nfor'ard and said something to the natives. In another ten seconds some\nof them began to clamber out on the jib-boom, the rest after them.\n\n\u201cCome back!\u201d yelled the skipper, jamming the helm hard up, as the\nschooner flew up into the wind. \u201cLeggo peak halyards. By G--d! we are\nrunning ashore. Leggo throat halyards, too!\u201d\n\nThe mate flew to the halyards, and let go first the peak and then the\nthroat halyards, but it was too late, and, with a swarm of natives\npacked together for'ard from the galley to the end of the jib-boom, she\nstuck her nose down, and, with stern high out of the water, like a duck\nchasing flies, she crashed into the reef--ran ashore dead to windward.\n\n*****\n\nNo one was drowned. The natives took good care of the captain, mate, and\nsupercargo, and helped them to save all they could. But Lannigan had a\nheavy loss--the bag of copper bolts had gone to the bottom.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COOK OF THE \u201cSPREETOO SANTOO\u201d--A STUDY IN BEACHCOMBERS\n\nWe were in Kitti Harbour, at Ponape, in the Carolines, when, at\nbreakfast, a bleary-eyed, undersized, more-or-less-white man in a dirty\npink shirt and dungaree pants, came below, and, slinging his filthy old\nhat over to the transoms, shoved himself into a seat between the mate\nand Jim Garstang, the trader.\n\n\u201cMornin', captin,\u201d said he, without looking at the skipper, and helping\nhimself to about two pounds of curry.\n\n\u201cMorning to you. Who the deuce are you, anyway? Are you the old bummer\nthey call 'Espiritu Santo'?\u201d said Garstang.\n\n\u201cThat's me. I'm the man. But I ain't no bummer, don't you b'lieve it. I\nwos tradin' round here in these (lurid) islands afore you coves knowed\nwhere Ponape was.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you the skunk that Wardell kicked off the Shenandoah for stealing a\nbottle of wine?\u201d said the mate.\n\n\u201cThat's me. There was goin' ter be trouble over that on'y that the\nShennydor got properly well sunk by the _Allybarmer_ (history wasn't\nhis forte), and that ------ Wardell got d------d well drownded. Hingland\nhaint a-goin' to let no Yankee insult nobody for nuthin'--an' I'm a\nblessed Englishman. I didn't steal the wine. Yer see, Wardell arst me\noff to dinner, and then we gets talkin' about polertics, an' I tells 'im\n'e wos a lyin' pirut. Then he started foolin' around my woman, an' I up\nwith a bottle of wine an'----\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you thundering liar,\u201d said Garstang, \u201cyou stole it out of the\nward-room.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wouldn't call no man a liar if I was you, Mister--by G----, that\nChinaman cook knows how to make curry.\u201d\n\nHe ate like a starving shark, and between mouthfuls kept up a running\nfire of lies and blasphemy. When he had eaten three platefuls of curry\nand drunk enough coffee to scald a pig, the skipper, who was gettin'\ntired of him, asked him if he had had enough.\n\nYes, he had had enough breakfast to last him a whole (Australian\nadjective) week.\n\n\u201cThen clear out on deck and swab the curry off your face, you beast!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat's always the way with you tradin' skippers. A stranger don't\nget no civility unless he comes aboard in a (red-painted) gig with a\n(crimson) umbrella and a (gory) 'elmet 'at, like a (vermilion) Consul.\u201d\n\nThe mate seized him, and, running him up the companion way, slung him\nout on deck.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhat do you think of him?\u201d asked the skipper, a man fond of a joke--it\nwas Bully Hayes. \u201cI thought I'd let you all make his acquaintance. He's\nbeen bumming around the Ladrones and Pelews since '50; used to be cook\non a Manilla trading brig, the _Espiritu Santo_.\u201d\n\nThen he told us how this wandering mass of blasphemy got his name of\n\u201cSpreetoo Santoo.\u201d While in the brig he had been caught smuggling at\nGuam by the guarda costas, and had spent a year or two in the old prison\nfort at San Juan de 'Apra. (I don't know how he got out: perhaps his\ninherently alcoholic breath and lurid blasphemy made the old brick wall\ntumble down.)\n\nAfter that he was always welcome in sailors' fo'c's'les by reason of\nhis smuggling story, which would commence with--\u201cWhen I was cook on the\n_Espiritu Santo_\u201d (only he used the English instead of the Spanish name)\n\u201cI got jugged by the gory gardy costers,\u201d &c, &c.\n\n*****\n\nWhen we came on deck he was sitting on the main-hatch with the Chinese\ncarpenter--whose pipe he was smoking--and telling him that he ought to\nget rid of his native wife, who was a Gilbert Island girl, and buy a\nPonape girl.\n\n\u201cI can git yer the pick o' the (crimson) island, an' it won't cost yer\nmore'n a few (unprintable) dollars. I'm a (bad word) big man 'ere among\nthe (adjective) natives.\u201d\n\nHung looked up at him stolidly with half-closed eyes. Then he took the\npipe out of his mouth and said in a deadly cold voice--\n\n\u201cYou palally liar, Spleetoo.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nHe slouched aft again presently, and asked the mate, in an amiable tone\nof voice, if he had \u201cany (ruddy) noospapers from Sydney.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat the devil do _you_ want newspapers for?\u201d inquired Hayes, turning\nround suddenly in his deck-chair, \u201cyou can't read, Spreetoo.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan't read, eh?\u201d and his red-rimmed, lashless eyes simulated intense\nindignation. \u201cWot about that 'ere (red) bishop at Manilla, as wanted\nme to chuck up me (scarlet) billet on the _Spreetoo S antoo_ and travel\nthrough the (carnaged) Carryline Grewp as 's (sanguinary) sekketerry?\n'Cos why? 'Cos there ain't any (blank) man atween 'ere an' 'ell as can\ntalk the warious lingoes like me.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said the mate, giving him two or three old Maoriland\nnewspapers--\u201chere's some Auckland papers. Know anybody there?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he answered, promptly, \u201cnot a soul, but he knowed Sydney well.\nLarst time I wos there I sold old Bobby Towns \u00a36,000 worth of oil--a\nbloomin' shipful. I got drunk, an' a (blank) policeman went through me\nin the cell and took the whole blessed lot outer me (scarlet) pocket.\u201d\n (Nine bad words omitted.)\n\n\u201cBank notes?\u201d queried Bully.\n\n\u201cNo, sov'reigns--(gory) sov'reigns.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nHe asked us if we had seen any men-o'-war about lately, and said that\nthe captain of H.M.S. -------- had wanted to marry his daughter, but\nhe wouldn't let her marry no man-o'-war cove after the way that ------\nWardell had treated him. He thought he would go back to Sydney again for\na spell. His brother had a flaming fine billet there.\n\nThe Cook of the \u201cSpreetoo Santoo\u201d 243\n\n\u201cWhat is he?\u201d asked Hayes.\n\n\u201c'E's a (blessed) Soopreme Court Judge, wears a (gory) wig big enough\nto make chafin' gear for a (crimson) fleet o' ships; 'e lives at Guvment\n'Ouse, and Vs rollin' in money an' drinks like a (carmine) fish. I\nthought I might see somethin' about the ------ in a (blank) Sydney\nnoospaper. I'll come in for all his (ensanguined) money when 'e dies.\u201d\n\nBully gave him a bottle of gin after a while. Then he hurriedly bade us\nfarewell and went ashore.\n\n\n\n\nLUPTON'S GUEST: A MEMORY OF THE EASTERN PACIFIC\n\nA long sweeping curve of coast, fringed with tall plumed palms casting\nwavering shadows on the yellow sand as they sway and swish softly to\nthe breath of the brave trade-wind that whistles through the\nthickly-verdured hummocks on the weather side of the island, to die away\ninto a soft breath as, after passing through the belt of cocoanuts, it\nfaintly ripples the transparent depths of the lagoon--a broad sheet of\nblue and silver stretching away from the far distant western line\nof reef to the smooth, yellow beach at the foot of the palms on the\neasternmost islet. And here, beneath their lofty crowns, are the brown\nthatched huts of the people and the home of Lupton the trader.\n\n*****\n\nThis is Mururea. And, if it be possible, Mururea surpasses in beauty any\nother of the \u201ccloud of islands\u201d which, lying on the blue bosom of the\nEastern Pacific like the islands of a dream, are called by their people\nthe Paumotu. And these people--it is not of very long ago I speak--are a\npeople unto themselves. Shy and suspicious of strangers, white or brown,\nand endued with that quick instinct of fear which impels untutored\nminds to slay, and which we, in our civilised ignorance, call savage\ntreachery, they are yet kind-hearted and hospitable to those who learn\ntheir ways and regard their customs. A tall, light-skinned, muscular\npeople, the men with long, straight, black hair, coiled up in a knot at\nthe back, and the women--the descendants of those who sailed with broken\nFletcher Christian and his comrades of the _Bounty_ in quest of a place\nwhere to die--soft-voiced, and with big, timorous eyes.\n\n*****\n\n'Twas here that Ben Peese, the handsome, savagely humorous, and voluble\ncolleague of Captain \u201cBully\u201d Hayes, the modern rover of the South\nSeas, one day appeared. Lupton, with his son and two natives, were out\nsearching the beach of a little islet for turtles' eggs, when the boy,\nwho had been sent to obtain a few young drinking cocoanuts from a tree\nsome little distance away, called out, \u201c_Te Pahi!_\u201d (a ship). A few\nminutes passed, and then, outlined against the narrow strip of cocoanuts\nthat grew on the north end of the main islet of the lagoon, Lupton saw\nthe sails of a schooner making for the only opening--a narrow passage on\nthe eastern side.\n\nNow vessels came but rarely to Mururea, for Du Petit Thouars, the French\nAdmiral of the Pacific fleet, had long since closed the group to the\nSydney trading ships that once came there for pearl-shell, and Lupton\nfelt uneasy. The vessel belonging to the Tahitian firm for whom he\ntraded was not due for many months. Could the stranger be that wandering\nIshmael of the sea--Peese? Only he--or his equally daring and dreaded\ncolleague, Bully Hayes--would dare to sail a vessel of any size in\namong the coral \u201cmushrooms\u201d that studded the current-swept waters of the\ndangerous passage.\n\nWhat did he want? And honest Frank Lupton, a quiet and industrious\ntrader, thought of his store of pearl-shell and felt still more\ndoubtful. And he knew Peese so well, the dapper, handsome little\nEnglishman with the pleasant voice that had in it always a ripple of\nlaughter--the voice and laugh that concealed his tigerish heart and\nsavage vindictiveness. Lupton had children too--sons and daughters--and\nPeese, who looked upon women as mere articles of merchandise, would have\nthought no more of carrying off the trader's two pretty daughters than\nhe would of \u201ctaking\u201d a cask of oil or a basket of pearl-shell.\n\n*****\n\nHis anxious face, paling beneath the tropic bronze of twenty years'\nocean wanderings, betrayed his feelings to the two natives who were\nnow pulling the boat with all their strength to gain the village, and\none--Maora, his wife's brother, a big, light-skinned man, with that\nkeen, hawk-like visage peculiar to the people of the eastern islands of\nPolynesia, said--\n\n\u201c'Tis an evil day, Farani! No ship but that of the Little Man with the\nBeard hath ever passed into the lagoon since the great English fighting\nship came inside\u201d (he spoke of 1863), \u201cfor the reef hath grown and\nspread out and nearly closed it. Only the Little Bearded Devil would\ndare it, for he hath been here twice with the Man of the Strong Hand\u201d\n (Hayes). \u201cAnd, Farani, listen! 'The hand to the club!'\u201d\n\nThey ceased pulling. From the village came the sound of an almost\nforgotten cry--a signal of danger to the dwellers under the palms--\u201cThe\nhand to the club!\u201d--meaning for the men to arm.\n\n*****\n\nLupton hesitated. The natives would, he knew, stand to him to a man if\nviolence to or robbery of him were attempted. But to gain the village he\nmust needs pass close the vessel, and to pass on and not board her would\nsavour of cowardice--and Lupton was an Englishman, and his twenty years'\nwanderings among the dangerous people of some of the islands of the\nPaumotu Group had steeled his nerves to meet any danger or emergency.\nSo, without altering the course of the boat, he ran alongside of the\nvessel--which was a brigantine--just as she was bringing to, and looking\nup, he saw the face he expected.\n\n\u201cHow are you, Lupton, my dear fellow?\u201d said Peese, as the trader gained\nthe deck, wringing his hand effusively, as if he were a long-lost\nbrother. \u201cBy Heavens! I'm glad to meet a countryman again, and that\ncountryman Frank Lupton. Don't like letting your hand go.\u201d And still\ngrasping the trader's rough hand in his, delicate and smooth as a\nwoman's, he beamed upon him with an air of infantile pleasure.\n\n*****\n\nThis was one of Peese's peculiarities--an affectation of absolute\naffection for any Englishman he met, from the captain of a man-of-war\n(these, however, he avoided as much as possible), to a poor beachcomber\nwith but a grass girdle round his loins.\n\n\u201cWhat brings you here, Captain Peese?\u201d said Lupton, bluntly, as his\neye sought the village, and saw the half-naked figures of his native\nfollowing leaving his house in pairs, each carrying between them\na square box, and disappearing into the _puka_ scrub. It was his\npearl-shell. M\u00e0meri, his wife, had scented danger, and the shell at\nleast was safe, however it befell. Peese's glance followed his, and\nthe handsome little captain laughed, and slapped the gloomy-faced and\nsuspicious trader on the back with an air of _camaraderie_.\n\n\u201cMy dear fellow, what an excessively suspicious woman your good M\u00e0meri\nis! But do not be alarmed. I have not come here to do any business this\ntime, but to land a passenger, and as soon as his traps are on the beach\nI'm off again to Maga Reva. Such are the exigencies, my dear Lupton, of\na trading captain's life in the South Seas, I cannot even spare the time\nto go on shore with you and enjoy the hospitality of the good M\u00e0meri and\nyour two fair daughters. But come below with me and see my passenger.\u201d\n And he led the way to his cabin.\n\n*****\n\nThe passenger's appearance, so Lupton told me, \u201cwas enough to make a\nman's blood curdle,\u201d so ghastly pale and emaciated was he. He rose as\nLupton entered and extended his hand.\n\n\u201cMy friend here,\u201d said the worthy little Ishmael, bowing and caressing\nhis long silky beard, \u201cis, ah, hum, Mr. Brown. He is, as you will\nobserve, my dear Lupton, in a somewhat weak state of health, and is in\nsearch of some retired spot where he may recuperate sufficiently----\u201d\n\n\u201cDon't lie unnecessarily, sir.\u201d\n\nPeese bowed affably and smiled, and the stranger addressed Lupton.\n\n\u201cMy name is not Brown--'tis of no consequence what it is; but I am,\nindeed, as you see, in a bad way, with but a few months at most to live.\nCaptain Peese, at my request, put into this lagoon. He has told me that\nthe place is seldom visited by ships, and that the people do not care\nabout strangers. Yet, have you, Mr. Lupton, any objections to my coming\nashore here, and living out the rest of my life? I have trade goods\nsufficient for all requirements, and will in no way interfere with or\nbecome a charge upon you.\u201d\n\nLupton considered. His influence with the people of Mururea was such\nthat he could easily overcome their objections to another white man\nlanding; but he had lived so long apart from all white associations that\nhe did not care about having the even monotony of his life disturbed.\nAnd then, he thought, it might be some queer game concocted between the\nsick man and the chattering little sea-hawk that sat beside him stroking\nand fondling his flowing beard. He was about to refuse when the sunken,\neager eyes of \u201cMr. Brown\u201d met his in an almost appealing look that\ndisarmed him of all further suspicion.\n\n\u201cVery well, sir. The island is as free to you as to me. But, still, I\n_could_ stop any one else from living here if I wished to do so. But you\ndo look very ill, no mistake about that. And, then, you ain't going\nto trade against me! And I suppose you'll pass me your word that there\nisn't any dodge between you and the captain here to bone my shell and\nclear out?\u201d\n\nFor answer the sick man opened a despatch-box that lay on the cabin\ntable, and took from it a bag of money.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d he said, \u201cis the sum I agreed to pay Captain Peese to land me\non any island of my choice in the Paumotu Archipelago, and this unsigned\norder here is in his favour on the Maison Brander of Tahiti for a\nsimilar sum.\u201d\n\nSigning the paper he pushed it with the money over to Peese, and then\nwent on:--\n\n\u201cI assure you, Mr. Lupton, that this is the only transaction I have ever\nhad with Captain Peese. I came to him in Tahiti, hearing he was bound to\nthe Paumotu Group. I had never heard of him before, and after to-day I\nwill not, in all human probability, see him again.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly correct, my dear sir,\u201d said Peese. \u201cAnd now, as our business\nis finished, perhaps our dear friend, Lupton, will save me the trouble\nof lowering a boat by taking you ashore in his own, which is alongside.\u201d\n\nFive minutes later and Lupton and the stranger were seated in the boat.\n\n\u201cGood-bye, my dear Lupton, and _adios_ my dear Mr. Brown. I shall\never remember our pleasant relations on board my humble little trading\nvessel,\u201d cried the renowned Peese, who, from former associations, had a\nway of drifting into the Spanish tongue--and prisons and fetters--which\nlatter he once wore for many a weary day on the cruiser _Hernandez\nPizarro_ on his way to the gloomy prison of Manilla.\n\nThe boat had barely traversed half the distance to the shore ere the\nbrigantine's anchor was hove-up and at her bows, and then Peese, with\nhis usual cool assurance, beat her through the intricate passage and\nstood out into the long roll of the Pacific.\n\n*****\n\nWhen Lupton, with his \u201cwalking bone bag,\u201d as he mentally called the\nstranger, entered his house, M\u00e0meri, his bulky native wife, uttered an\nexclamation of pity, and placing a chair before him uttered the simple\nword of welcome _Iorana!_ and the daughters, with wonder-lit star-like\neyes, knelt beside their father's chair and whispered, \u201cWho is he,\nFarani?\u201d\n\nAnd Lupton could only answer, \u201cI don't know, and won't ask. Look to him\nwell.\u201d\n\nHe never did ask. One afternoon nearly a year afterwards, as Lupton and\nTrenton, the supercargo of the _Marama_ sat on an old native _marae_ at\nArupahi, the Village of Four Houses, he told the strange story of his\nsick guest.\n\n*****\n\nThe stranger had at first wished to have a house built for himself, but\nLupton's quiet place and the shy and reserved natures of his children\nmade him change his intention and ask Lupton for a part of his house. It\nwas given freely--where are there more generous-hearted men than these\nworld-forgotten, isolated traders?--and here the Silent Man, as the\npeople of Mururea called him, lived out the few months of his life. That\nlast deceptive stage of his insidious disease had given him a fictitious\nstrength. On many occasions, accompanied by the trader's children, he\nwould walk to the north point of the low-lying island, where the cloudy\nspume of the surge was thickest and where the hollow and resonant crust\nof the black reef was perforated with countless air-holes, through which\nthe water hissed and roared, and shot high in air, to fall again in\nmisty spray.\n\nAnd here, with dreamy eyes, he would sit under the shade of a clump of\nyoung cocoanuts, and watch the boil and tumble of the surf, whilst the\nchildren played with and chased each other about the clinking sand.\nSometimes he would call them to him--Farani the boy, and Teremai and\nLorani, the sweet-voiced and tender-eyed girls--and ask them to sing\nto him; and in their soft semi-Tahitian dialect they would sing the old\nsongs that echoed in the ears of the desperate men of the _Bounty_ that\nfatal dawn when, with bare-headed, defiant Bligh drifting astern in his\nboat, they headed back for Tahiti and death. *****\n\nFour months had passed when one day the strange white man, with Lupton's\nchildren, returned to the village. As they passed in through the doorway\nwith some merry chant upon their lips, they saw a native seated on the\nmatted floor. He was a young man, with straight, handsome features,\nsuch as one may see any day in Eastern Polynesia, but the children,\nwith terrified faces, shrank aside as they passed him and went to their\nfather.\n\nThe pale face of the Silent Man turned inquiringly to Lupton, who\nsmiled.\n\n\u201c'Tis M\u00e0meri's teaching, you know. She is a Catholic from Magareva, and\nprays and tells her beads enough to work a whaleship's crew into heaven.\nBut this man is a 'Soul Catcher,' and if any one of us here got sick,\nM\u00e0meri would let the faith she was reared in go to the wall and send\nfor the 'Soul Catcher.' He's a kind of an all-round prophet, wizard, and\ngeneral wisdom merchant. Took over the soul-catching business from his\nfather--runs in the family, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said the Silent Man in his low, languid tones, looking at the\nnative, who, the moment he had entered, had bent his eyes to the\nground, \u201cand in which of his manifold capacities has he come to see you,\nLupton?\u201d\n\nLupton hesitated a moment, then laughed.\n\n\u201cWell, sir, he says he wants to speak to you. Wants to _pahihi_ (talk\nrot), I suppose. It's his trade, you know. I'd sling him out only that\nhe isn't a bad sort of a fellow--and a bit mad--and M\u00e0meri says he'll\nquit as soon as he has had his say.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him talk,\u201d said the calm, quiet voice; \u201cI like these people, and\nlike to hear them talk--better than I would most white men.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThen, with his dark, dilated eyes moving from the pale face of the\nwhite man to that of Lupton, the native wizard and Seer of Unseen Things\nspoke. Then again his eyes sought the ground.\n\n\u201cWhat does he say?\u201d queried Lupton's guest.\n\n\u201cD------rot,\u201d replied the trader, angrily.\n\n\u201cTell me exactly, if you please. I feel interested.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he says that he was asleep in his house when his 'spirit voice'\nawoke him and said\u201d--here Lupton paused and looked at his guest, and\nthen, seeing the faint smile of amused interest on his melancholy\nfeatures, resumed, in his rough, jocular way--\u201cand said--the 'spirit\nvoice,' you know--that your soul was struggling to get loose, and is\ngoing away from you to-night. And the long and short of it is that this\nyoung fellow here wants to know if you'll let him save it--keep you from\ndying, you know. Says he'll do the job for nothing, because you're a\ngood man, and a friend to all the people of Mururea.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Brown\u201d put his thin hand across his mouth, and his eyes smiled at\nLupton. Then some sudden, violent emotion stirred him, and he spoke\nwith such quick and bitter energy that Lupton half rose from his seat in\nvague alarm.\n\n\u201cTell him,\u201d he said--\u201cthat is, if the language expresses it--that my\nsoul has been in hell these ten years, and its place filled with ruined\nhopes and black despair,\u201d and then he sank back on his couch of mats,\nand turned his face to the wall.\n\nThe Seer of Unseen Things, at a sign from the now angry Lupton, rose to\nhis feet. As he passed the trader he whispered--\n\n\u201cBe not angry with me, Farani; art not thou and all thy house dear to\nme, the Snarer of Souls and Keeper Away of Evil Things? And I can truly\nmake a snare to save the soul of the Silent Man, if he so wishes it.\u201d\n The low, impassioned tones of the wizard's voice showed him to be under\nstrong emotion, and Lupton, with smoothened brow, placed his hand on the\nnative's chest in token of amity.\n\n\u201cFarani,\u201d said the wizard, \u201csee'st thou these?\u201d and he pointed to where,\nin the open doorway, two large white butterflies hovered and fluttered.\nThey were a species but rarely seen in Mururea, and the natives had many\ncurious superstitions regarding them.\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d said the trader, \u201cwhat of them?\u201d\n\n\u201cLo, they are the spirits that await the soul of him who sitteth in thy\nhouse. One is the soul of a woman, the other of a man; and their bodies\nare long ago dust in a far-off land. See, Farani, they hover and wait,\nwait, wait. To-morrow they will be gone, but then another may be with\nthem.\u201d\n\nStopping at the doorway the tall native turned, and again his strange,\nfull black eyes fixed upon the figure of Lupton's guest. Then slowly he\nuntied from a circlet of polished pieces of pearl-shell strung together\nround his sinewy neck a little round leaf-wrapped bundle. And with quiet\nassured step he came and stood before the strange white man and extended\nhis hand.\n\n\u201cTake it, O man, with the swift hand and the strong heart, for it is\nthine.\u201d\n\nAnd then he passed slowly out.\n\nLupton could only see that as the outside wrappings of _fala_ leaves\nfell off they revealed a black substance, when Mr. Brown quickly placed\nit in the bosom of his shirt.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cAnd sure enough,\u201d continued Lupton, knocking the ashes from his pipe\nout upon the crumbling stones of the old marae, and speaking in, for\nhim, strangely softened tones, \u201cthe poor chap did die that night,\nleastways at _kalaga moa_ (cockcrow), and then he refilled his pipe in\nsilence, gazing the while away out to the North-West Point.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWhat a curious story!\u201d began the supercargo, after an interval of some\nminutes, when he saw that Lupton, usually one of the merriest-hearted\nwanderers that rove to and fro in Polynesia, seemed strangely silent and\naffected, and had turned his face from him.\n\nHe waited in silence till the trader chose to speak again. Away to\nthe westward, made purple by the sunset haze of the tropics, lay the\never-hovering spume-cloud of the reef of North-West Point--the loved\nhaunt of Lupton's guest--and the muffled boom of the ceaseless surf\ndeepened now and then as some mighty roller tumbled and crashed upon the\nflat ledges of blackened reef.\n\n*****\n\nAt last the trader turned again to the supercargo, almost restored to\nhis usual equanimity. \u201cI'm a pretty rough case, Mr.------, and not much\ngiven to any kind of sentiment or squirming, but I would give half I'm\nworth to have him back again. He sort of got a pull on my feelin's the\nfirst time he ever spoke to me, and as the days went on, I took to him\nthat much that if he'd a wanted to marry my little Teremai I'd have\ngiven her to him cheerful. Not that we ever done much talkin', but he'd\nsit night after night and make me talk, and when I'd spun a good hour's\nyarn he'd only say, 'Thank you, Lupton, good-night,' and give a smile\nall round to us, from old M\u00e0meri to the youngest _tama_, and go to bed.\nAnd yet he did a thing that'll go hard agin' him, I fear.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said Trenton, \u201cand so he told you at the last--I mean his reason\nfor coming to die at Mururea.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, he didn't. He only told me something; Peese told me the rest. And\nhe laughed when he told me,\u201d and the dark-faced trader struck his hand\non his knee. \u201cPeese would laugh if he saw his mother crucified.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas Peese back here again, then?\u201d inquired Trenton.\n\n\u201cYes, two months ago. He hove-to outside, and came ashore in a canoe.\nSaid he wanted to hear how his dear friend Brown was. He only stayed an\nhour, and then cleared out again.9'\n\n\u201cDid he die suddenly?\u201d the supercargo asked, his mind still bent on\nLupton's strange visitor.\n\n\u201cNo. Just before daylight he called me to him--with my boy. He took the\nboy's hand and said he'd have been glad to have lived after all. He had\nbeen happy in a way with me and the children here in Mururea. Then he\nasked to see Teremai and Lorani. They both cried when they saw he was a\ngoin'--all native-blooded people do that if they cares anything at all\nabout a white man, and sees him dyin'.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you any message, or anything to say in writin', sir?\u201d I says to\nhim.\n\nHe didn't answer at once, only took the girls' hands in his, and kisses\neach of 'em on the face, then he says, \u201cNo, Lupton, neither. But send\nthe children away now. I want you to stay with me to the last--which\nwill be soon.\u201d\n\nThen he put his hand under his pillow, and took out a tiny little\nparcel, and held it in his closed hand. *****\n\n\u201cMr. Lupton, I ask you before God to speak honestly. Have you, or have\nyou not, ever heard of me, and why I came here to die, away from the\neyes of men?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d I said. \u201cBefore God I know no more of you now than the day I\nfirst saw you.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you, then, tell me if the native soul-doctor who came here last\nnight is a friend of Captain Peese? Did he see Peese when I landed here?\nHas he talked with him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. When you came here with Peese, the soul-seer was away at another\nisland. And as for talking with him, how could he? Peese can't speak two\nwords of Paumotu.\u201d\n\nHe closed his eyes a minute. Then he reached out his hand to me and\nsaid, \u201cLook at that; what is it?\u201d\n\nIt was the little black thing that the Man Who Sees Beyond gave him, and\nwas a curious affair altogether. \u201cYou know what an _aitu taliga_ is?\u201d\n asked Lupton.\n\n\u201cYes; a 'devil's ear'--that's what the natives call fungus.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d continued Lupton, \u201cthis was a piece of dried fungus, and yet it\nwasn't a piece of fungus. It was the exact shape of a human heart--just\nas I've seen a model of it made of wax. That hadn't been its natural\nshape, but the sides had been brought together and stitched with human\nhair--by the soul-doctor, of course. I looked at it curiously enough,\nand gave it back to him. His fingers closed round it again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he says again.\n\n\u201cIt's a model of a human heart,\u201d says I, \u201cmade of fungus.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy God!\u201d he says, \u201chow could he know?\u201d Then he didn't say any more, and\nin another half-hour or so he dies, quiet and gentlemanly like. I looked\nfor the heart with M\u00e0meri in the morning--it was gone.\n\n\u201cWell, we buried him. And now look here, Mr. ------, as sure as I\nbelieve there's a God over us, I believe that that native soul-catcher\n_has_ dealings with the Devil. I had just stowed the poor chap in his\ncoffin and was going to nail it down when the kanaka wizard came in,\nwalks up to me, and says he wants to see the dead man's hand. Just to\nhumour him I lifted off the sheet. The soul-catcher lifted the dead\nman's hands carefully, and then I'm d------d if he didn't lay that dried\nheart on his chest and press the hands down over it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat's that for?\u201d says I.\n\n\u201c'Tis the heart of the woman he slew in her sleep. Let it lie with him,\nso that there may be peace between them at last,\u201d and then he glides\naway without another word.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cI let it stay, not thinking much of it at the time. Well, as I was\ntellin' you, Peese came again. Seeing that I had all my people armed, I\ntreated him well and we had a chat, and then I told him all about 'Mr.\nBrown's' death and the soul-saver and the dried heart. And then Peese\nlaughs and gives me this newspaper cutting. I brought it with me to show\nyou.\u201d\n\nTrenton took the piece of paper and read.\n\n*****\n\n\u201c'Lester Mornington made his escape from the State prison at San Quentin\n(Cal.) last week, and is stated to be now on his way either to Honolulu\nor Tahiti. It has been ascertained that a vast sum of money has been\ndisbursed in a very systematic manner during the last few weeks to\neffect his release. Although nearly eight years have elapsed since he\ncommitted his terrible crime, the atrocious nature of it will long be\nremembered. Young, wealthy, respected, and talented, he had been married\nbut half a year when the whole of the Pacific Slope was startled with\nthe intelligence that he had murdered his beautiful young wife, who had,\nhe found, been disloyal to him.\n\n\u201c'Entering the bedroom he shot his sleeping wife through the temples,\nand then with a keen-edged knife had cut out her still-beating heart.\nThis, enclosed in a small box, he took to the house of the man who had\nwronged him, and desired him to open it and look at the contents. He did\nso, and Mornington, barely giving him time to realise the tragedy, and\nthat his perfidy was known, shot him twice, the wounds proving fatal\nnext day. The murderer made good his escape to Mexico, only returning to\nCalifornia a month ago, when he was recognised (although disguised) and\ncaptured, and at the time of his escape was within two days of the time\nof his trial before Judge Crittenden.'\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThere's always a woman in these things,\u201d said Lupton, as the supercargo\ngave him back the slip. \u201cCome on.\u201d And he got down from his seat on the\nwall. \u201cThere's M\u00e0meri calling us to _kaikai_--stewed pigeons. She's a\nbully old cook; worth her weight in Chile dollars.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIN NOUM\u00c9A\n\nChester was listening to those charming musicians, the convict band,\nplaying in Noum\u00e9a, and saw in the crowd a man he knew--more, an old\nfriend, S------. The recognition was mutual and pleasing to both. They\nhad not met for six years. He was then chief officer of a China steamer;\nnow he was captain of a big tramp steamer that had called in to load\nnickel ore. \u201cWho,\u201d exclaimed Chester, \u201cwould ever have thought of\nmeeting _you_ here?\u201d\n\nHe laughed and replied: \u201cI came with a purpose. You remember Miss ------,\nto whom I was engaged in Sydney?\u201d\n\nChester nodded, expecting from the sparkle in S------'s dark brown eye\nthat he was going to hear a little gush about her many wifely qualities.\n\n\u201cWell, I was in Sydney three times after I saw you. We were to be\nmarried as soon as I got a command. Two years ago I was there last. She\nhad got married. Wrote me a letter saying she knew my calmer judgment\nwould finally triumph over my anger--she had accepted a good offer, and\nalthough I might be nettled, perhaps, at first, yet she was sure my good\nsense would applaud her decision in marrying a man who, although she\ncould never love him as she loved me, was very rich. But she would\nalways look forward to meeting me again. That was all.\u201d\n\n\u201cHard lines,\u201d said Chester.\n\n\u201cMy dear boy, I thought that at first, when her letter knocked me flat\naback. But I got over it, and I swore I would pay her out. And I came to\nthis den of convicts to do it, and I did it--yesterday. She is here.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Here?_\u201d said Chester.\n\nAnd then he learnt the rest of Captain S------'s story. A year after his\nlady-love had jilted him he received a letter from her in England. She\nwas in sad trouble, she said. Her husband, a Victorian official, was\nserving five years for embezzlement. Her letter was suggestive of a\ndesire to hasten to the \u201cprotection\u201d of her sailor lover. She wished,\nshe said, that her husband were dead. But dead or alive she would always\nhate _him_.\n\nS------ merely acknowledged her letter and sent her \u00a325. In another six\nmonths he got a letter from Fiji. She was a governess there, she said,\nat \u00a375 a year. Much contrition and love, also, in this letter.\n\nS------ sent another \u00a325, and remarked that he would see her soon. Fate\none day sent him to take command of a steamer in Calcutta bound to Fiji\nwith coolies, thence to Noum\u00e9a to load nickel ore. And all the way out\nacross the tropics S------'s heart was leaping at the thought of seeing\nhis lost love--and telling her that he hated her for her black frozen\ntreachery.\n\nAs soon as he had landed his coolies he cautiously set about discovering\nthe family with whom she lived. No one could help him, but a planter\nexplained matters: \u201cI know the lady for whom you inquire, but she\ndoesn't go by that name. Ask any one about Miss ------, the barmaid. She\nhas gone to New Caledonia.\u201d\n\nHe asked, and learned that she was well known; and S------ wondered why\nshe had brought her beauty to such a climate as that of Fiji when it\nwould have paid her so much better to parade it in Melbourne.\n\nThe evening of the day on which his steamer arrived at Noum\u00e9a a man\nbrought him a letter. He showed it to Chester.\n\nMy darling Will,--Thank God you have come, for surely you have come for\nme--my heart tells me so. For God's sake wait on board for me. I will\ncome at eight. To live in this place is breaking my heart. Ever yours,\n------\n\nShe came. He stood her kisses passively, but gave none in return, until\nshe asked him to kiss her. \u201cWhen you are my wife,\u201d he said, evasively.\nAnd then--she must have loved him--she burst out into passionate sobs\nand fell at his feet in the quiet cabin and told him of her debased life\nin Fiji. \u201cBut, as God hears me, Will, that is all past since your last\nletter. I was mad. I loved money and did not care how I got it. I left\nFiji to come here, intending to return to Australia. But, Will, dear\nWill, if it is only to throw me overboard, take me away from this hell\nupon earth. For your sake, Will, I have resisted them here, although\nI suffer daily, hourly, torture and insult. I have no money, and I am\nafraid to die and end my sufferings.\u201d\n\nCaptain S------, speaking calmly and slowly, placed money in her hand\nand said, \u201cYou must not see me again till the day I am ready for sea.\nThen bring your luggage and come on board.\u201d\n\nWith a smothered sob bursting from her, despite the joy in her heart,\nthe woman turned and left him.\n\nThen S------ went up to the Caf\u00e9 Palais and played billiards with a\nsteady hand.\n\n*****\n\nThere was a great number of people on board to see Captain S------ away.\nPresently a boat came alongside, and a young lady with sweet red lips\nand shiny hair ascended to the deck.\n\n\u201cH\u00e8las!\u201d said a French officer to S------, \u201cand so you are taking away\nthe fair one who won't look at us poor exiles of Nouvelle.\u201d\n\nWith a timid smile and fast-beating heart the woman gained the\nquarter-deck. In front of her stood the broad-shouldered, well-groomed\nCaptain S------, cold, impassive, and deadly pale, with a cruel joy in\nhis breast.\n\nThe woman stood still. There was something so appalling in that set\nwhite face before her, that her slight frame quivered with an unknown\ndread. And then the captain spoke, in slow, measured words that cut her\nto her inmost soul.\n\n\u201cMadam, I do not take passengers!\u201d\n\nNo answer. Only short, gasping breaths as she steadied her hand on the\nrail.\n\nAnd then, turning to one of the Frenchmen: \u201cM. ------, will you request\nthis--this lady to go on shore? She is known to me as a woman of\ninfamous reputation in Fiji. I cannot for a moment entertain the idea of\nhaving such a person on board my ship.\u201d\n\nBefore the shuddering creature fell a man caught her, and then she was\nplaced in the boat and taken ashore. Of course some of the Frenchmen\nthought it right to demand an explanation from S------, who said--\n\n\u201cI've none to give, gentlemen. If any of you want to fight me, well and\ngood, although I don't like quarrelling over a pavement-woman. Besides,\nI rather think you'll find that the lady will _now_ be quite an\nacquisition to you.\u201d\n\nBut S------'s revenge was not complete. He had previously arranged\nmatters with his engineer, who presently came along and announced an\naccident to the machinery--the steamer would be delayed a couple of\ndays. He wanted to see her again--so he told Chester.\n\n\u201cIt was a cruel thing,\u201d said his friend.\n\n\u201cBah!\u201d said S------, \u201ccome with me.\u201d\n\nIn the crowded bar of the caf\u00e9 a woman was laughing and talking gaily.\nSomething made her look up. She put her hand to her eyes and walked\nslowly from the room.\n\nAs the two Englishmen walked slowly down to the wharf the handsome\nCaptain S------ whistled cheerily, and asked Chester on board to hear\nhim and his steward play violin and piccolo. \u201cBy God, S------,\u201d said\nChester, \u201cyou have no heart!\u201d\n\n\u201cRight you are, my lad. She made it into stone. But it won't hurt her as\nit did me. You see, these Frenchmen here pay well for new beauty; and\nwomen love money--which is a lucky thing for many men.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE FEAST AT PENTECOST\n\nThere was a row in the fo'c's'le of the _Queen Caroline_, barque,\nof Sydney, and the hands were discussing ways and means upon two\nsubjects--making the skipper give them their usual allowance of rum,\nor killing him, burning the ship, and clearing out and living among the\nnatives.\n\nHalf of the crew were white, the others were Maories, Line Islanders,\nand Hawaiians. The white men wanted the coloured ones to knock the\nskipper and two mates on the head, while they slept. The natives\ndeclined--but they were quite agreeable to run away on shore with their\nmessmates.\n\n*****\n\nThe barque was at anchor at one of the New Hebrides. She was a\n\u201csandalwooder,\u201d and the captain, Fordham, was, if possible, a greater\nrascal than any one else on board. He had bargained with the chief of\nthe island for leave to send his crew ashore and cut sandalwood, and on\nthe first day four boatloads were brought off, whereupon Fordham cursed\ntheir laziness. One, an ex-Hobart Town convict, having \u201ctalked back,\u201d\n Fordham and the mate tied him up to the pumps and gave him three dozen.\n\nNext day he started the boats away during fierce rain-squalls, and told\nthe men that if they didn't bring plenty of wood he would \u201chaze\u201d them\nproperly.\n\nAt dusk they returned and brought word that they had a lot of wood cut,\nbut had left it ashore as the natives would lend them no assistance to\nload the boats.\n\nThe spokesman on this occasion was a big Maori from the Bay of Islands.\nFordham gave him three dozen and put him in irons. Then he told the men\nthey would get no supper till the wood was in the barque's hold--and he\nalso stopped their grog.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the captain, eyeing them savagely, \u201cwhat is it going to be?\nAre you going to get that wood off or not?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt's too dark,\u201d said one; \u201cand, anyway, we want our supper and grog\nfirst.\u201d\n\nFordham made a step towards him, when the whole lot bolted below.\n\n\u201cThey'll turn-to early enough to-morrow,\u201d said he, grimly, \u201cwhen they\nfind there's no breakfast for 'em until that wood's on deck.\u201d Then\nhe went below to drink rum with his two mates, remarking to his first\nofficer: \u201cYou mark my words, Colliss, we're going to have a roasting hot\ntime of it with them fellows here at Pentecost!\u201d\n\n*****\n\nAt daylight next morning the mate, who was less of a brute than the\nskipper, managed to get some rum and biscuit down into the fo'c's'le;\nthen they turned-to and manned the boats. At noon the second mate,\nwho was in charge of the cutting party, signalled from the shore that\nsomething was wrong.\n\nOn Fordham reaching the shore the second mate told him that all the\nnative crew had run off into the bush.\n\nThe chief of the island was sent for, and Fordham told him to catch the\nrunaways--fourteen in number--promising seven muskets in return. The\nwhite crew were working close by in sullen silence. They grinned when\nthey heard the chief say it would be difficult to capture the men;\nthey were natives, he remarked--if they were white men it would be easy\nenough. But he would try if the captain helped him.\n\n*****\n\nAn hour afterwards the chief was in the bush, talking to the deserters,\nand taking in an account of the vast amount of trade lying on board the\nbarque.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said he, to the only man among them who spoke his dialect--a\nFijian half-caste from Loma-loma--\u201cthis is my scheme. The captain of the\nship and those that come with him will I entice into the bush and kill\nthem one by one, for the path is narrow----\u201d\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d said Sam the half-caste, \u201cand then ten of us, with our hands\nloosely tied, will be taken off to the ship by two score of your men,\nwho will tell the mate that the captain has caught ten of us, and has\ngone to seek the other four. Then will the ship be ours.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cHalloa!\u201d said the mate of the barque to the carpenter, \u201chere's a\nthundering big crowd of niggers coming off in our two boats, and none\nof our white chaps with 'em. Stand by, you chaps, with your muskets. I\nain't going to let all that crowd aboard with only six men in the ship.\u201d\n\nThe men left on board watched the progress of the two boats as they were\npulled quickly towards the ship. They hardly apprehended any attempt at\ncutting-off, as from the ship they could discern the figures of some\nof their shipmates on shore stacking the sandalwood on a ledge of rock,\nhandy for shipping in the boats.\n\n\u201cIt's all right,\u201d called out the mate presently, \u201cthe niggers have\ncollared some of our native chaps. I can see that yaller-hided Fiji Sam\nsitting aft with his hands lashed behind him. Let 'em come alongside.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cCap'en been catch him ten men,\u201d said the native in charge to the mate,\n\u201che go look now find him other fellow four men. He tell me you give me\ntwo bottle rum, some tobacco, some biscuit.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight you are, you man-catching old' cannibal,\u201d said the mate,\njocosely, \u201ccome below.\u201d As the mate went below with the native at his\nheels, the latter made a quick sign by a backward move of his arm. In an\ninstant the ten apparently-bound men had sprung to their feet, and with\ntheir pseudo-captors, flung themselves upon the five men. The wild cry\nof alarm reached the mate in the cabin. He darted up, and as he reached\nthe deck a tomahawk crashed into his brain.\n\nNo need to tell the tale of the savage butchery on deck in all its\ndetails. Not one of the men had time to even fire a shot--they went down\nso quickly under the knives and tomahawks of the fifty men who struggled\nand strove with one another to strike the first blow. One man, indeed,\nsucceeeded in reaching the main rigging, but ere he had gained ten feet\nhe was stabbed and chopped in half-a-dozen places.\n\n*****\n\nAnd then, as the remaining members of the crew sat \u201cspelling\u201d in the\njungle, and waiting for the skipper's return, there came a sudden, swift\nrush of dark, naked forms upon them. Then gasping groans and silence.\n\nThere were many oven-fires lit that night and the following day; and\nalthough the former shipmates of the \u201clong, baked pigs\u201d were present by\nthe invitation of the chief, their uncultivated tastes were satisfied\nwith such simple things as breadfruit and yams.\n\nThat was the \u201cwiping-out\u201d of the _Queen Caroline_ at Pentecost, and the\nfulfilment of the unconscious prophecy of Captain Fordham to his mate.\n\n\n\n\nAN HONOUR TO THE SERVICE\n\nThe Honourable Captain Stanley W------ believed in flogging, and during\nthe three years' cruise of the frigate in the South Pacific he had taken\nseveral opportunities of expressing this belief upon the bluejackets of\nhis ship by practical illustrations of his hobby. He was, however--in\nhis own opinion--a most humane man, and was always ready to give a dozen\nless if Dr. Cartwright suggested, for instance, that Jenkins or Jones\nhadn't quite got over his last tricing up, and could hardly stand\nanother dozen so soon. And the chaplain of the frigate, when dining with\nthe Honourable Stanley, would often sigh and shake his head and agree\nwith the captain that the proposed abolition of flogging in the British\nNavy would do much to destroy its discipline and loosen the feelings of\npersonal attachment between officers and men, and then murmur something\ncomplimentary about his Majesty's ship _Pleiades_ being one of the very\nfew ships in the Service whose captain still maintained so ancient and\nhonoured a custom, the discontinuance of which could only be advocated\nby common, illiterate persons--such as the blue-jackets themselves.\n\n*****\n\nThe frigate was on her way from Valparaiso to Sydney--it was in the days\nof Governor Bligh--and for nearly three weeks had been passing amongst\nthe low-lying coral islands of the Paumotu or Low Archipelago, when\none afternoon in May, 182- she lay becalmed off the little island of\nVairaatea. The sea was as smooth as glass, and only the gentlest ocean\nswell rose and fell over the flat surface of the coral reef. In those\ndays almost nothing was known of the people of the Paumotu Group except\nthat they were a fierce and warlike race and excessively shy of white\nstrangers. Standing on his quarter-deck Captain W------ could with\nhis glass see that there were but a few houses on the island--perhaps\nten--and as the frigate had been nearly six weeks out from Valparaiso,\nand officers in the navy did not live as luxuriously then as now, he\ndecided to send a boat ashore and buy some turtle from the natives.\n\n\u201cIf you can buy a few thousand cocoanuts as well, do so, Mr. T.,\u201d said\nthe captain, \u201cand I'll send another boat later on.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe boat's crew was well armed, and in command of the second lieutenant.\nAmong them was a man named Hallam, a boatswain's mate, a dark-faced,\nsurly brute of about fifty. He was hated by nearly every one on board,\nbut as he was a splendid seaman and rigidly exact in the performance of\nhis duties, he was an especial favourite of the captain's, who was never\ntired of extolling his abilities and sobriety, and holding him up as an\nexample of a British seaman: and Hallam, like his captain, was a firm\nbeliever in the cat.\n\nOn pulling in to the beach about a dozen light-skinned natives met them.\nThey were all armed with clubs and spears, but at a sign from one\nwho seemed to be their chief they laid them down All--the chief as\nwell--were naked, save for a girdle of long grass round their loins.\n\nTheir leader advanced to Lieutenant T------ as he stepped out of the\nboat, and holding out his hand said, \u201cGood mornin' What you want?\u201d\n\nPleased at finding a man who spoke English, the lieutenant told him he\nhad come to buy some turtle and get a boatload of young cocoanuts, and\nshowed him the tobacco and knives intended for payment.\n\nThe chiefs eyes glistened at the tobacco; the others, who did not know\nits use, turned away in indifference, but eagerly handled the knives.\n\n*****\n\nAll this time the chiefs eyes kept wandering to the face of Hallam,\nthe boatswain's mate, whose every movement he followed with a curious,\nwistful expression. Suddenly he turned to the lieutenant and said, in\ncurious broken English, that cocoanuts were easily to be obtained, but\nturtle were more difficult; yet if the ship would wait he would promise\nto get them as many as were wanted by daylight next morning.\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d said Lieutenant T------, \u201cbear a hand with the cocoanuts\nnow, and I'll tell the captain what you say;\u201d and then to Hallam, \u201cIf\nthis calm keeps up, Hallam, I'm afraid the ship will either have to\nanchor or tow off the land--she's drifting in fast.\u201d\n\nIn an hour the boat was filled with cocoanuts, and Lieutenant T------\nsent her off to the ship with a note to the captain, remaining himself\nwith Hallam, another leading seaman named Lacy, and five bluejackets.\nPresently the chief, in his strange, halting English, asked the officer\nto come to his house and sit down and rest while his wife prepared food\nfor him. And as they walked the native's eyes still sought the face of\nHallam the boatswain.\n\nHis wife was a slender, graceful girl, and her modest, gentle demeanour\nas she waited upon her husband himself impressed the lieutenant\nconsiderably.\n\n\u201cWhere did you learn to speak English?\u201d the officer asked his host after\nthey had finished.\n\nHe answered slowly, \u201cI been sailor man American whaleship two year;\u201d and\nthen, pointing to a roll of soft mats, said, \u201cYou like sleep, you sleep.\nMe like go talk your sailor man.\u201d\n\n*****\n\nHallam, morose and gloomy, had left the others, and was sitting under\nthe shade of a _toa_-tree, when he heard the sound of a footstep, and\nlooking up saw the dark-brown, muscular figure of the native chief\nbeside him.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he said, surlily, \u201cwhat the h---- do you want?\u201d\n\nThe man made him no answer--only looked at him with a strange, eager\nlight of expectancy in his eyes, and his lips twitched nervously, but no\nsound issued from them. For a moment the rude, scowling face of the old\nseaman seemed to daunt him. Then, with a curious choking sound in his\nthroat, he sprang forward and touched the other man on the arm.\n\n\u201c_Father!_ Don't you know me?\u201d\n\nWith trembling hands and blanched face the old man rose to his feet, and\nin a hoarse whisper there escaped from his lips a name that he had\nlong years ago cursed and forgotten. His hands opened and shut again\nconvulsively, and then his savage, vindictive nature asserted itself\nagain as he found his voice, and with the rasping accents of passion\npoured out curses upon the brown, half-naked man that stood before him.\nThen he turned to go. But the other man put out a detaining hand.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cIt is as you say. I am a disgraced man. But you haven't heard why I\ndeserted from the _Tagus_. Listen while I tell you. I was flogged. I was\nonly a boy, and it broke my heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cCurse you, you chicken-hearted sweep! I've laid the cat on the back of\nmany a better man than myself, and none of 'em ever disgraced themselves\nby runnin' away and turnin' into a nigger, like you!\u201d\n\nThe man heard the sneer with unmoved face, then resumed--\n\n\u201cIt broke my heart. And when I was hiding in Dover, and my mother used\nto come and dress my wounds, do you remember what happened?\u201d\n\n\u201cAye, you naked swab, I do: your father kicked you out!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I got caught again, and put in irons, and got more cat. Two years\nafterwards I cleared again in Sydney, from the _Sirius_.... And I came\nhere to live and die among savages. That's nigh on eight years ago.\u201d\n\nThere was a brief silence. The old man, with fierce, scornful eyes,\nlooked sneeringly at the wild figure of the broken wanderer, and then\nsaid--\n\n\u201cWhat's to stop me from telling our lieutenant you're a deserter? I\nwould, too, by God, only I don't want my shipmates to know I've got a\nnigger for a son.\u201d\n\nThe gibe passed unheeded, save for a sudden light that leapt into the\neyes of the younger man, then quickly died away.\n\n\u201cLet us part in peace,\u201d he said. \u201cWe will never meet again. Only tell me\none thing--is my mother dead?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank God for that,\u201d he murmured. Then without another word the outcast\nturned away and disappeared among the cocoa-palms.\n\n*****\n\nThe second boat from the _Pleiades_ brought the captain, and as he and\nthe lieutenant stood and talked they watched the natives carrying down\nthe cocoa-nuts.\n\n\u201cHurry them up, Hallam,\u201d said Lieutenant T------; \u201cthe tide is falling\nfast. By the by, where is that fellow Lacy; I don't see him about?\u201d\n\nAs he spoke a woman's shriek came from the chiefs house, which stood\nsome distance apart from the other houses, and a tall brown man sprang\nout from among the other natives about the boats and dashed up the\npathway to the village.\n\n\u201cQuick, Hallam, and some of you fellows,\u201d said Captain W------, \u201crun and\nsee what's the matter. That scoundrel, Lacy, I suppose, among the\nwomen,\u201d he added, with a laugh, to the lieutenant.\n\nThe two officers followed the men. In a few minutes they came upon\na curious scene. Held in the strong arms of two stout seamen was the\nnative chief, whose heaving chest and working features showed him to be\nunder some violent emotion. On the ground, with his head supported by\na shipmate, lay Lacy, with blackened and distorted face, and breathing\nstertorously. Shaking with fear and weeping passionately as she pressed\nher child to her bosom, the young native wife looked beseechingly into\nthe faces of the men who held her husband.\n\n\u201cWhat is the meaning of this?\u201d said Captain W------'s clear, sharp\nvoice, addressing the men who held the chief.\n\n\u201cThat hound there\u201d--the men who held their prisoner nearly let him go\nin their astonishment--\u201ccame in here. She was alone. Do you want to know\nmore? I tried to kill him.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him loose, men,\u201d and Captain W------ stepped up to the prisoner and\nlooked closely into his dark face. \u201cAh! I thought so--a white man. What\nis your name?\u201d\n\nThe wanderer bent his head, then raised it, and looked for an instant at\nthe sullen face of Hallam.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cI have no name,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cHumph,\u201d muttered Captain W------ to his lieutenant, \u201ca runaway convict,\nmost likely. He can't be blamed, though, for this affair. He's a perfect\nbrute, that fellow Lacy.\u201d Then to the strange white man he turned\ncontemptuously:\n\n\u201cI'm sorry this man assaulted your wife. He shall suffer for it\nto-morrow. At the same time I'm sorry I can't tie _you_ up and flog you,\nas a disgrace to your colour and country, you naked savage.\u201d\n\nThe outcast took two strides, a red gleam shone in his eyes, and his\nvoice shook with mad passion.\n\n\u201c'A naked savage'; and you would like to flog me. It was a brute such as\nyou made me what I am,\u201d and he struck the captain of the _Pleiades_ in\nthe face with his clenched hand.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cWe'll have to punish the fellow, T------,\u201d said Captain W------, as\nwith his handkerchief to his lips he staunched the flow of blood. \u201cIf I\nlet a thing like this pass his native friends would imagine all sorts\nof things and probably murder any unfortunate merchant captain that may\ntouch here in the future. But, as Heaven is my witness, I do so on that\nground only--deserter as he admits himself to be. Hurry up that fellow,\nT------.\u201d\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThat fellow\u201d was Hallam, who had been sent to the boat for a bit of\nline suitable for the purpose in view. His florid face paled somewhat\nwhen the coxswain jeeringly asked him if he didn't miss his green bag,\nand flung him an old pair of yoke-lines.\n\n*****\n\nThe business of flogging was not, on the whole, unduly hurried. Although\n\u201cAll Hands to Witness Punishment\u201d was not piped, every native on the\nisland, some seventy or so all told, gathered round the cocoanut-tree\nto which the man was lashed, and at every stroke of the heavy yoke-lines\nthey shuddered. One, a woman with a child sitting beside her, lay face\nto the ground, and as each cruel swish and thud fell on her ear the\nsavage creature wept.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cThat's enough, Hallam,\u201d said Captain W------, somewhat moved by the\ntears and bursting sobs of the pitying natives, who, when they saw the\ngreat blue weals on the brown back swell and black drops burst out,\nsought to break in through the cordon of blue jackets.\n\n***** Clustering around him, the brown people sought to lift him in\ntheir arms and carry him to his house; but his strength was not all\ngone, and he thrust them aside. Then he spoke, and even the cold,\npassionless Captain W------ felt his face flush at the burning words:\n\n\u201cFor seven years, lads, I've lived here, a naked savage, as your captain\ncalled me. I had a heavy disgrace once, an' it just broke my heart\nlike--I was flogged--and I wanted to hide myself out of the world. Seven\nyears it is since I saw a white man, an' I've almost forgotten I _was_ a\nwhite man once; an' now because I tried to choke a hound that wanted\nto injure the only being in the world I have to love, I'm tied up and\nlashed like a dog--_by my own father!_\u201d\n\n*****\n\nThe island was just sinking below the horizon when the burly figure of\nboatswain's mate Hallam was seen to disappear suddenly over the bows,\nwhere he had been standing.\n\n*****\n\n\u201cA very regrettable occurrence,\u201d said Captain W------, pompously, to the\nchaplain when the boats returned from the search. \u201cNo doubt the horror\nof seeing his only son a disgraced fugitive and severed from all decent\nassociations preyed upon his mind and led him to commit suicide. Such\nmen as Hallam, humble as was his position, are an Honour to the Service.\nI shall always remember him as a very zealous seaman.\u201d\n\n\u201cParticularly with the cat,\u201d murmured Lieutenant T------.","title":"The Ebbing Of The Tide: South Sea Stories - 1896","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":61477}