calm mornings, is about the only evidence the seafaring white men have of the
teeming interior population. For the whites do not penetrate Malaita. They
tried it once, in the days when the search was on for gold, but they always
left their heads behind to grin from the smoky rafters of the bushmen’s huts.
When Mauki was a young man of seventeen, Fanfoa got out of tobacco. He got
dreadfully out of tobacco. It was hard times in all his villages. He had been
guilty of a mistake. Suo was a harbor so small that a large schooner could not
swing at anchor in it. It was surrounded by mangroves that overhung the deep
water. It was a trap, and into the trap sailed two white men in a small ketch.
They were after recruits, and they possessed much tobacco and trade goods, to
say nothing of three rifles and plenty of ammunition. Now there were no
salt-water men living at Suo, and it was there that the bushmen could come
down to the sea. The ketch did a splendid traffic. It signed on twenty
recruits the first day. Even old Fanfoa signed on. And that same day the score
of new recruits chopped off the two white men’s head, killed the boat’s crew,
and burned the ketch. Thereafter, and for three months, there was tobacco and
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trade goods in plenty and to spare in all the bush villages. Then came the
man-of-war that threw shells for miles into the hills, frightening the people
out of their villages and into the deeper bush. Next the man-of-war sent
landing parties ashore. The villages were all burned, along with the tobacco
and trade stuff.
The cocoanuts and bananas were chopped down, the taro gardens uprooted, and
the pigs and chickens killed.
It taught Fanfoa a lesson, but in the meantime he was out of tobacco. Also,
his young men were too frightened to sign on with the recruiting vessels. That
was why Fanfoa ordered his slave, Mauki, to be carried down and signed on for
half a case of tobacco advance, along with knives, axes, calico, and beads,
which he would pay for with his toil on the plantations. Mauki was sorely
frightened when they brought him on board the schooner. He was a lamb led to
the slaughter. White men were ferocious creatures. They had to be, or else
they would not make a practice of venturing along the Malaita coast and into
all harbors, two on a schooner, when each schooner carried from fifteen to
twenty blacks as boat’s crew, and often as high as sixty or seventy black
recruits. In addition to this, there was always the danger of the shore
population, the sudden attack and the cutting off of the schooner and all
hands. Truly, white men must be terrible. Besides, they were possessed of such
devil-devils–rifles that shot very rapidly many times, things of iron and
brass that made the schooners go when there was no wind, and boxes that talked
and laughed just as men talked and laughed.
Ay, and he had heard of one white man whose particular devil-devil was so
powerful that he could take out all his teeth and put them back at will.
Down into the cabin they took Mauki. On deck, the one white man kept guard
with two revolvers in his belt. In the cabin the other white man sat with a
book before him, in which he inscribed strange marks and lines. He looked at
Mauki as though he had been a pig or a fowl, glanced under the hollows of his
arms, and wrote in the book. Then he held out the writing stick and Mauki just
barely touched it with his hand, in so doing pledging himself to toil for
three years on the plantations of the Moongleam Soap Company. It was not
explained to him that the will of the ferocious white men would be used to
enforce the pledge, and that, behind all, for the same use, was all the power
and all the warships of Great Britain.
Other blacks there were on board, from unheard-of far places, and when the
white man spoke to them, they tore the long feather from Mauki’s hair, cut
that same hair short, and wrapped about his waist a lava-lava of bright yellow
calico.
After many days on the schooner, and after beholding more land and islands
than he had ever dreamed of, he was landed on New Georgia, and put to work in
the field clearing jungle and cutting cane grass. For the first time he knew
what work was. Even as a slave to Fanfoa he had not worked like this. And he
did not like work. It was up at dawn and in at dark, on two meals a day. And
the food was tiresome. For weeks at a time they were given nothing but sweet
potatoes to eat, and for weeks at a time it would be nothing but rice. He cut
out the cocoanut from the shells day after day; and for long days and weeks he
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29
fed the fires that smoked the copra, till his eyes got sore and he was set to
felling trees. He was a good axe-man, and later he was put in the
bridge-building gang. Once, he was punished by being put in the road-building
gang. At times he served as boat’s crew in the whale boats, when they brought
in copra from distant beaches or when the white men went out to dynamite fish.
Among other things he learned beche-de-mer English, with which he could talk
with all white men, and with all recruits who otherwise would have talked in a
thousand different dialects. Also, he learned certain things about the white
men, principally that they kept their word. If they told a boy he was going to
receive a stick of tobacco, he got it. If they told a boy they would knock
seven bells out of him if he did a certain thing, when he did that thing,
seven bells invariably were knocked out of him. Mauki did not know what seven
bells were, but they occurred in beche-de-mer, and he imagined them to be the
blood and teeth that sometimes accompanied the process of knocking out seven
bells. One other thing he learned: no boy was struck or punished unless he did
wrong. Even when the white men were drunk, as they were frequently, they never
struck unless a rule had been broken.
Mauki did not like the plantation. He hated work, and he was the son of a
chief. Furthermore, it was ten years since he had been stolen from Port Adams
by Fanfoa, and he was homesick. He was even homesick for the slavery under
Fanfoa. So he ran away. He struck back into the bush, with the idea of working
southward to the beach and stealing a canoe in which to go home to Port Adams.
But the fever got him, and he was captured and brought back more dead than
alive.
A second time he ran away, in the company of two Malaita boys. They got down
the coast twenty miles, and were hidden in the hut of a Malaita freeman, who
dwelt in that village. But in the dead of night two white men came, who were
not afraid of all the village people and who knocked seven bells out of the
three runaways, tied them like pigs, and tossed them into the whale boat. But
the man in whose house they had hidden–seven times seven bells must have been
knocked out of him from the way the hair, skin, and teeth flew, and he was
discouraged for the rest of his natural life from harboring runaway laborers.
For a year Mauki toiled on. Then he was made a house-boy, and had good food
and easy times, with light work in keeping the house clean and serving the
white men with whiskey and beer at all hours of the day and most hours of the
night. He liked it, but he liked Port Adams more. He had two years longer to
serve, but two years were too long for him in the throes of homesickness. He
had grown wiser with his year of service, and, being now a house-boy, he had
opportunity. He had the cleaning of the rifles, and he knew where the key to
the store room was hung. He planned to escape, and one night ten Malaita boys
and one boy from San Cristoval sneaked from the barracks and dragged one of
the whale boats down to the beach. It was Mauki who supplied the key that
opened the padlock on the boat, and it was Mauki who equipped the boat with a
dozen Winchesters, an immense amount of ammunition, a case of dynamite with
detonators and fuse, and ten cases of tobacco.
The northwest monsoon was blowing, and they fled south in the night time,