to you for gin. I can promise you a rare bargain. How much gin did you
say you had?”
“Still more gin, eh?”
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“An’ why not? ‘Tis a royal souse is Tui Tulifau. Sure it keeps my wits
workin’ overtime to supply him, he’s that amazin’ liberal with it. The
whole gang of hanger-on chiefs is perpetually loaded to the guards. It’s
disgraceful. Are you goin’ to pay them fines, Mr. Grief, or is it to harsher
measures I’ll be forced?”
Grief turned impatiently on his heel.
“Cornelius, you’re drunk. Think it over and come to your senses. The old
rollicking South Sea days are gone. You can’t play tricks like that now.”
“If you think you’re goin’ on board, Mr. Grief, I’ll save you the trouble. I
know your kind. I foresaw your stiff-necked stubbornness. An’ it’s
forestalled you are. ‘Tis on the beach you’ll find your crew. The vessel’s
seized.”
Grief turned back on him in the half-belief still that he was joking.
Fulualea again retreated in alarm. The form of a large man loomed beside
him in the darkness.
“Is it you, Uiliami?” Fulualea crooned. “Here is another sea pirate. Stand
by me with the strength of thy arm, O Herculean brother.”
“Greeting, Uiliami,” Grief said. “Since when has Fitu-Iva come to be run
by a Levuka beachcomber? He says my schooner has been seized. Is it
true?”
“It is true,” Uiliami boomed from his deep chest. “Have you any more silk
shirts like Willie Smee’s? Tui Tulifau would like such a shirt. He has
heard of it.”
“‘Tis all the same,” Fulualea interrupted. “Shirts or schooners, the king
shall have them.”
“Rather high-handed, Cornelius,” Grief murmured. “It’s rank piracy. You
seized my vessel without giving me a chance.”
“A chance is it? As we stood here, not five minutes gone, didn’t you refuse
to pay your fines?”
“But she was already seized.”
“Sure, an’ why not? Didn’t I know you’d refuse? ‘Tis all fair, an’ no
injustice done—Justice, the bright, particular star at whose shining altar
Cornelius Deasy—or Fulualea, ’tis the same thing—ever worships. Get
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thee gone, Mr. Trader, or I’ll set the palace guards on you. Uiliami, ’tis a
desperate character, this trader man. Call the guards.”
Uiliami blew the whistle suspended on his broad bare chest by a cord of
cocoanut sennit. Grief reached out an angry hand for Cornelius, who
titubated into safety behind Uiliami’s massive bulk. A dozen strapping
Polynesians, not one under six feet, ran down the palace walk and ranged
behind their commander.
“Get thee gone, Mr. Trader,” Cornelius ordered. “The interview is
terminated. We’ll try your several cases in the mornin’. Appear promptly at
the palace at ten o’clock to answer to the followin’ charges, to wit: breach
of the peace; seditious and treasonable utterance; violent assault on the
chief magistrate with intent to cut, wound, maim, an’ bruise; breach of
quarantine; violation of harbour regulations; and gross breakage of custom
house rules. In the mornin’, fellow, in the mornin’, justice shall be done
while the breadfruit falls. And the Lord have mercy on your soul.”
IV
Before the hour set for the trial Grief, accompanied by Peter Gee, won
access to Tui Tulifau. The king, surrounded by half a dozen chiefs, lay on
mats under the shade of the avocados in the palace compound. Early as
was the hour, palace maids were industriously serving square- faces of
gin. The king was glad to see his old friend Davida, and regretful that he
had run foul of the new regulations. Beyond that he steadfastly avoided
discussion of the matter in hand. All protests of the expropriated traders
were washed away in proffers of gin. “Have a drink,” was his invariable
reply, though once he unbosomed himself enough to say that Feathers of
the Sun was a wonderful man. Never had palace affairs been so
prosperous. Never had there been so much money in the treasury, nor so
much gin in circulation. “Well pleased am I with Fulualea,” he concluded.
“Have a drink.”
“We’ve got to get out of this pronto,” Grief whispered to Peter Gee a few
minutes later, “or we’ll be a pair of boiled owls. Also, I am to be tried for
arson, or heresy, or leprosy, or something, in a few minutes, and I must
control my wits.”
As they withdrew from the royal presence, Grief caught a glimpse of
Sepeli, the queen. She was peering out at her royal spouse and his fellow
tipplers, and the frown on her face gave Grief his cue. Whatever was to be
accomplished must be through her.
In another shady corner of the big compound Cornelius was holding court.
He had been at it early, for when Grief arrived the case of Willie Smee
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was being settled. The entire royal army, save that portion in charge of the
seized vessels, was in attendance.
“Let the defendant stand up,” said Cornelius, “and receive the just and
merciful sentence of the Court for licentious and disgraceful conduct
unbecomin’ a supercargo. The defendant says he has no money. Very well.
The Court regrets it has no calaboose. In lieu thereof, and in view of the
impoverished condition of the defendant, the Court fines said defendant
one white silk shirt of the same kind, make and quality at present worn by
defendant.”
Cornelius nodded to several of the soldiers, who led the supercargo away
behind an avocado tree. A minute later he emerged, minus the garment in
question, and sat down beside Grief.
“What have you been up to?” Grief asked.
“Blessed if I know. What crimes have you committed?”
“Next case,” said Cornelius in his most extra-legal tones. “David Grief,
defendant, stand up. The Court has considered the evidence in the case, or
cases, and renders the following judgment, to wit:-Shut up!” he thundered
at Grief, who had attempted to interrupt. “I tell you the evidence has been
considered, deeply considered. It is no wish of the Court to lay additional
hardship on the defendant, and the Court takes this opportunity to warn the
defendant that he is liable for contempt. For open and wanton violation of
harbour rules and regulations, breach of quarantine, and disregard of
shipping laws, his schooner, the Cantani, is hereby declared confiscated to
the Government of Fitu-Iva, to be sold at public auction, ten days from
date, with all appurtenances, fittings, and cargo thereunto pertaining. For
the personal crimes of the defendant, consisting of violent and turbulent
conduct and notorious disregard of the laws of the realm, he is fined in the
sum of one hundred pounds sterling and fifteen cases of gin. I will not ask
you if you have anything to say. But will you pay? That is the question.”
Grief shook his head.
“In the meantime,” Cornelius went on, “consider yourself a prisoner at
large. There is no calaboose in which to confine you. And finally, it has
come to the knowledge of the Court, that at an early hour of this morning,
the defendant did wilfully and deliberately send Kanakas in his employ
out on the reef to catch fish for breakfast. This is distinctly an
infringement of the rights of the fisherfolk of Fitu-Iva. Home industries
must be protected. This conduct of the defendant is severely reprehended
by the Court, and on any repetition of the offence the offender and
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offenders, all and sundry, shall be immediately put to hard labour on the
improvement of the Broom Road. The court is dismissed.”
As they left the compound, Peter Gee nudged Grief to look where Tui
Tulifau reclined on the mats. The supercargo’s shirt, stretched and bulged,
already encased the royal fat.
V
“The thing is clear,” said Peter Gee, at a conference in Ieremia’s house.
“Deasy has about gathered in all the coin. In the meantime he keeps the
king going on the gin he’s captured on our vessels. As soon as he can
maneuver it he’ll take the cash and skin out on your craft or mine.”
“He is a low fellow,” Ieremia declared, pausing in the polishing of his
spectacles. “He is a scoundrel and a blackguard. He should be struck by a
dead pig, by a particularly dead pig.”
“The very thing,” said Grief. “He shall be struck by a dead pig. Ieremia, I
should not be surprised if you were the man to strike him with the dead
pig. Be sure and select a particularly dead one. Tui Tulifau is down at the
boat house broaching a case of my Scotch. I’m going up to the palace to
work kitchen politics with the queen. In the meantime you get a few things
on your shelves from the store-room. I’ll lend you some, Hawkins. And
you, Peter, see the German store. Start in all of you, selling for paper.
Remember, I’ll back the losses. If I’m not mistaken, in three days we’ll