The Call Of The South Part 7

The story of their insane wanderings after the _Julia_ went south of the equator would have been diverting had it not been so distressing. The mate, who we gathered was both a good seaman and a competent navigator, was drowned through the capsizing of a boat on the reef of some island between the Gilbert Group and Rarotonga, and with his death what little discipline, and cohesiveness had formerly existed gradually vanished.

Richards apparently knew how to handle his ship, but as a navigator he was nowhere. Incredible as it may seem, his general chart of the North and South Pacific was thirty years old, and was so torn, stained and greasy as to be all but undecipherable. As the weary weeks went by and they went from island to island, only to be turned away by the inhabitants, they at last began to realise the folly of the venture, and most of them wanted to return to San Francisco. But Richards clung to the belief that they only wanted patience to find a suitable island where the natives would be glad to receive them, and where they could settle down in peace. Failing that, he had the idea that there were numbers of fertile and uninhabited islands, one of which would suit the Brethren almost as well. But as time went on he too grew despondent, and turned the brig's head northward for Honolulu; and one day he blundered across Butaritari Island and entered the lagoon in the hope of at least getting, some provisions. And again the crew bolted and left the Brethren to shift for themselves. Week after week, month after month went by, the provisions were all gone except weevily biscuit and rotten pork, and they pa.s.sed their time in wandering about the beaches of the lagoon and waiting for a.s.sistance. And yet there wore two or three of them who still believed in the vision of the Isle Beautiful and were still hopeful that they might get there. "All we want is another crew," these said to us.

Our skipper shook his head, and then talked to them plainly, calling upon me to corroborate him.

"You will never get a crew. No sailor-man would ever come to sea in a crate like this. And you'll find no islands anywhere in the Pacific where you can settle down, unless you can pay for it. The natives will chivvy you off if you try to land. I know them--you don't. The people in America who encouraged you in this business were howling lunatics. Your ship is falling to pieces, and I warn you that if you once leave this lagoon in her, you will never see land again."

They were silent, and then the old man began to weep, and said they would there and then pray for guidance.

"All right," said the skipper, "go ahead, and I'll get my mate and the carpenter to come and tell you their opinion of the state of this brig."

The mate and carpenter made an examination, told Captain Richards in front of his pa.s.sengers that the ship was utterly unseaworthy, and that he would be a criminal if he tried to put to sea again. That settled the business, especially after they had asked me to value their trade goods, and I told them frankly that they were literally not worth valuing, and to throw them overboard.

Ten days later the Brotherhood broke up--an American trading schooner came into the lagoon and her captain offered to take them to Jakuit in the Marshall Islands, where they were certain of getting a pa.s.sage to Honolulu in some whaleship. They all accepted with the exception of Richards and his wife who refused to leave the _Julia_. The poor fellow had his pride and would not desert his ship. However, as his wife was ailing, he had a small house built on sh.o.r.e and managed to make a few hundred dollars by boat-building. But every day he would go off and have a look round the old brig to see if everything on board was all right Then one night there came a series of heavy squalls which raised a lumpy sea in the lagoon, and when morning broke only her top-masts were visible--she had gone down at her anchors.

Richards and his fellow-cranks were the forerunners of other bands of ignorant enthusiasts who in later years endeavoured to foist themselves upon the natives of the Pacific Islands and met with similar and well-merited disaster. Like the ill-fated "La Nouvelle France" colony of the notorious Marquis de Ray, all these land-stealing ventures set about their exploits under the cloak of religion. One, under a pretended concession from the Mexican Government, founded a "Christian Redemption Colony" of scallywags, loafers and loose women at Magdalena Bay in Lower California, and succeeded in getting many thousands of pounds from foolish people. Then came a party of Mormon Evangelists who actually bought and paid for land in Samoa and conducted themselves decently and are probably living there now. After them came the wretched _Percy Edward_ band of pilgrims to found a "happy home" in the South Seas. They called themselves the "United Brotherhood of the South Sea Islands". In another volume, in an article describing my personal experiences of the disastrous "Nouvelle France" expedition to New Ireland,{*} I have alluded to the _Percy Edward_ affair in these words, which I may be permitted to quote: "The _Percy Edward_ was a wretched old tub of a brigantine (formerly a Tahiti-San Francisco mail packet). She was bought in the latter port by a number of people who intended to found a Socialistic Utopia, where they were to pluck the wild goat by the beard, pay no rent to the native owners of the soil, and, letting their hair grow down their backs, lead an idyllic life and loaf around generally.

Such a mad scheme could have been conceived nowhere else but in San Francisco or Paris.... The result of the Marquis de Ray's expedition ought to have made the American enthusiasts reflect a little before they started. But having the idea that they could sail on through summer seas till they came to some land fair to look upon, and then annex it right away in the sacred name of Socialism (and thus violate one of the principles of true Socialism), they sailed--only to be quickly disillusionised. For there were no islands anywhere in the North and South Pacific to be had for the taking thereof; neither were there any tracts of land to be had from the natives, except for hard cash or its equivalent. The untutored Kanakas also, with whom they came in contact, refused to become brother Socialists and go shares with the long-haired wanderers in their land or anything else. So from island unto island the _Percy Edward_ cruised, looking more disreputable every day, until as the months went by she began to resemble in her tattered gear and dejected appearance her fatuous pa.s.sengers. At last, after being considerably chivvied about by the white and native inhabitants of the various islands touched at, the forlorn expedition reach Fiji. Here fifty of the idealists elected to remain and work for their living under a Government... But the remaining fifty-eight stuck to the _Percy Edward_, and her decayed salt junk and putrid water, and their beautiful ideals; till at last the ship was caught in a hurricane, badly battered about, lost her foremast, and only escaped foundering by reaching New Caledonia and settling her keel on the bottom of Noumea harbour. Then the visionaries began to collect their senses, and denounced the _Percy Edward_ and the principles of the 'United Brotherhood' as hollow frauds, and elected to abandon her and go on sh.o.r.e and get a good square meal. What became of them at Noumea I did not hear, but do know that in their wanderings they received much charitable a.s.sistance from British shipmasters and missionaries--in some cases their pa.s.sages were paid to the United States--the natural and proper country for the ignorant religious 'crank'."

* Ridan the Devil: T. Fisher Unwin, London.

CHAPTER IX ~ "DANDY," THE SHIP'S DINGO

We anch.o.r.ed under Cape Bedford (North Queensland) one day, and the skipper and I went on sh.o.r.e to bathe in one of the native-made rocky water-holes near the Cape. We found a native police patrol camped there, and the officer asked us if we would like to have a dingo pup for a pet.

His troopers had caught two of them the previous day. We said we should like to possess a dingo.

"Bring him here, Dandy," said the officer to one of his black troopers, and Dandy, with a grin on his sooty face, brought to us a lanky-legged pup about three months old. Its colour was a dirty yellowish red, but it gave promise of turning out a dog--of a kind. The captain put out his hand to stroke it, and as quick as lightning it closed its fang-like teeth upon his thumb. With a bull-like bellow of rage, the skipper was about to hurl the savage little beast over the cliffs into the sea, when I stayed his hand.

"He'll make a bully ship-dog," I urged, "just the right kind of pup to chivvy the n.i.g.g.e.rs over the side when we get to the Louisiades and Solomons. Please don't choke the little beggar, Ross. 'Twas only fear, not rage, that made him go for you."

We made a temporary muzzle from a bit of fishing line; bade the officer good-bye, and went off to the ship.

We were nearly a month beating up to the Solomons, and in that time we gained some knowledge of Dandy's character. (We named him after the black trooper.) He was fawningly, sneakingly, offensively affectionate--when he was hungry, which was nearly always; as ferocious and as spiteful as a tiger cat when his stomach was full; then, with a snarling yelp, he would put his tail beneath his legs and trot for'ard, turning his head and showing his teeth. Crawling under the barrel of the windla.s.s he would lie there and go to sleep, only opening his eyes now and then to roll them about vindictively when any one pa.s.sed by. Then when he was hungry again, he would crawl out and slouch aft with a "please-do-be-kind-to-a-poor-dog" expression on his treacherous face.

Twice when we were sailing close to the land he jumped overboard, and made for the sh.o.r.e, though he couldn't swim very well and only went round and round in circles. On each occasion a native sailor jumped over after him and brought him back, and each time he bit his rescuer.

"Never mind him, sir," said the mate to Ross one day, when the angry skipper fired three shots at Dandy for killing the ship's cat--missed him and nearly killed the steward, who had put his head out of the galley door to see the fun--"there's money in that dog. I wouldn't mind bettin' half-a-sov that Charley Nyberg, the trader on Santa Anna, will give five pounds for him. He'll go for every n.i.g.g.e.r he's sooled on to.

You mark my words."

In the fore-hold we had a hundred tons of coal destined for one of H.M.

cruisers then surveying in the Solomon Group. We put Dandy down there to catch rats, and gave him nothing but water. Here he showed his blood. We could hear the sc.r.a.ping about of coal, and the screams of the captured rodents, as Dandy tore round the hold after them. In three days there were no more rats left, and Dandy began to utter his weird, blood-curdling howls--he wanted to come on deck. We lashed him down under the force pump, and gave him a thorough wash-down. He shook himself, showed his teeth at us and tore off to the galley in search of food. The cook gave him a large tinful of rancid fat, which was at once devoured, then he fled to his retreat under the windla.s.s, and began to growl and moan. By-and-by we made Santa Anna.

Charley Nyberg, after he had tried the dog by setting him on to two Solomon Island "bucks" who were loafing around his house, and seen how the beast could bite, said he would give us thirteen dollars and a fat hog for him. We agreed, and Dandy was taken on sh.o.r.e and chained up outside the cook-house to keep away thieving natives.

About nine o'clock that evening, as the skipper and I were sitting on deck, we heard a fearful yell from Charley's house--a few hundred yards away from where we were anch.o.r.ed. The yell was followed by a wild clamour from many hundreds of native throats, and we saw several scores of people rushing towards the trader's dwelling. Then came the sound of two shots in quick succession.

"Haul the boat alongside," roared our skipper, "there's mischief going on on sh.o.r.e."

In a minute we, with the boat's crew, had seized our arms, tumbled into the boat and were racing for the beach.

Jumping out, we tore to the house. It seemed pretty quiet. Charley was in his sitting-room, binding up his wife's hand, and smoking in an unconcerned sort of a way.

"What is wrong, Charley?" we asked.

"That infernal mongrel of yours nearly bit my wife's hand off. Did it when she tried to stroke him. I soon settled him. If you go to the back you will see some native women preparing the brute for the oven. The n.i.g.g.e.rs here like baked dog. Guess you fellows will have to give me back that thirteen dollars. But you can keep the hog."

So Dandy came to a just and fitting end.

CHAPTER X ~ KALA-HOI, THE NET-MAKER

Old Kala-hoi, the net-maker, had ceased work for the day, and was seated on a mat outside his little house, smoking his pipe, looking dreamily out upon the blue waters of Leone Bay, on Tutuila Island, and enjoying the cool evening breeze that blew upon his bare limbs and played with the two scanty tufts of snow-white hair that grew just above his ears.

As he sat and smoked in quiet content, Marsh (the mate of our vessel) and I discerned him from the beach, as we stepped out of the boat We were both tired--Marsh with weighing and stowing bags of copra in the steaming hold, and I with paying the natives for it in trade goods--a task that had taken me from dawn till supper time. Then, as the smell of the copra and the heat of the cabin were not conducive to the enjoyment of supper, we first had a bathe alongside the ship, got into clean pyjamas and came on sh.o.r.e to have a chat with old Kala-hoi.

"Got anything to eat, Kala-hoi?" we asked, as we sat down on the mat, in front of the ancient, who smilingly bade us welcome.

"My oven is made; and in it are a fat mullet, four breadfruit, some _taro_ and plenty of _ifi_ (chestnuts). For to-day is Sat.u.r.day, and I have cooked for to-morrow as well as for to-night." Then lapsing into his native Hawaiian (which both my companion and I understood), he added, "And most heartily are ye welcome. In a little while the oven will be ready for uncovering and we shall eat."

"But how will you do for food to-morrow, Kala-hoi?" inquired Marsh, with a smile and speaking in English.

"To-morrow is not yet. When it comes I shall have more food. I have but to ask of others and it is given willingly. And even if it were not so, I would but have to pluck some more breadfruit or dig some taro and kill a fowl--and cook again to night." And then with true native courtesy he changed the subject and asked us if we had enjoyed our swim. Not much, we replied, the sea-water was too warm from the heat of the sun.

He nodded. "Aye, the day has been hot and windless until now, when the cool land breeze comes down between the valleys from the mountains. But why did ye not bathe in the stream in the fresh water, as I have just done. It is a good thing to do, for it makes hunger as well as cleanses the skin, and that the salt water will not do."

Marsh and I lit our pipes. The old man rose, went into his house and returned with a large mat and two bamboo pillows, telling us it would be more comfortable to lie down and rest our backs, for he knew that we had "toiled much during the day". Then he resumed his own mat again, and crossed his hands on his tatooed knees, for although not a Samoan he was tatooed in the Samoan fashion. Beside him was a Samoan Bible, for he was a deeply religious old fellow, and could both read and write.

"How comes it, Kala, that thou livest all alone half a league from the village?" asked Marsh.

Kala-hoi showed his still white and perfect teeth in a smile.

"Ah, why? Because, O friend, this is mine own land. I am, as thou knowest, of Maui, in Hawaii, and though for thirty and nine years have I lived in Samoa, yet now that my wife and two sons are dead, I would be by myself. This land, which measures two hundred fathoms on three sides, and one hundred at the beach, was given to me by Mauga, King of Tutuila, because, ten years ago, when his son was shot in the thigh with a round bullet, I cut it out from where it had lodged against the bone."

"How old are you, Kala-hoi?"

"I know not. But I am old, very old. Yet I am young--still young. I was a grown man when Wilkes, the American Commodore, came to Samoa. And I went on board the _Vincennes_ when she came to Apia, and because I spoke English well, _le alii Saua_ ('the cruel captain'), as we called him,{*} made much of me, and treated me with some honour. Ah, he was a stern man, and his eye was as the eye of an eagle."

* Wilkes was called "the cruel captain" by the Samoans on account of his iron discipline.

Marsh nodded acquiescence. "Aye, he was a strong, stern man. More than a score of years after thou hadst seen him here in Samoa, he was like to have brought about a b.l.o.o.d.y war between my country and his. Yet he did but what was right and just--to my mind. And I am an Englishman."

Kala-hoi blew a stream of smoke through his nostrils.

"Aye, indeed, a stern man, and with a bitter tongue. But because of his cruelty to his men was he punished, for in Fiji the _kai tagata_ (cannibals) killed his nephew. And yet he spoke always kindly to me, and gave me ten Mexican dollars because I did much interpretation for him with the chiefs of Samoa.... One day there came on board the ship two white men; they were _papalagi tafea_ (beachcombers) and were like Samoans, for they wore no clothes, and were tatooed from their waists to their knees as I am. They went to the forepart of the ship and began talking to the sailors. They were very saucy men and proud of their appearance. The Commodore sent for them, and he looked at them with scorn--one was an Englishman, the other a Dane. This they told him.

"'O ye brute beasts,' he said, and he spat over the side of the ship contempt 'Were ye Americans I would trice ye both up and give ye each a hundred lashes, for so degrading thyselves. Out of my ship, ye filthy tatooed swine. Thou art a disgrace to thy race!' So terrified were they that they could not speak, and went away in shame."