and giving no orders. This was Mauki’s chance, but still he waited.
When the worst was past, and Bunster lay convalescent and conscious, but weak
as a baby, Mauki packed his few trinkets, including the china cup handle, into
his trade box. Then he went over to the village and interviewed the king and
his two prime ministers.
“This fella Bunster, him good fella you like too much?” he asked.
They explained in one voice that they liked the trader not at all. The
ministers poured forth a recital of all the indignities and wrongs that had
been heaped upon them. The king broke down and wept. Mauki interrupted rudely.
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35
“You savve me–me big fella marster my country. You no like m this fella white
marster. Me no like m. Plenty good you put hundred cocoanut, two hundred
cocoanut, three hundred cocoanut along cutter. Him finish, you go sleep m good
fella. Altogether kanaka sleep m good fella. Bime by big fella noise along
house, you no savve hear m that fella noise. You altogether sleep strong fella
too much.”
In like manner Mauki interviewed the boat boys. Then he ordered Bunster’s wife
to return to her family house. Had she refused, he would have been in a
quandary, for his tambo would not have permitted him to lay hands on her.
The house deserted, he entered the sleeping room, where the trader lay in a
doze. Mauki first removed the revolvers, then placed the ray fish mitten on
his hand. Bunster’s first warning was a stroke of the mitten that removed the
skin the full length of his nose.
“Good fella, eh?” Mauki grinned, between two strokes, one of which swept the
forehead bare and the other of which cleaned off one side of his face. “Laugh,
damn you, laugh.”
Mauki did his work throughly, and the kanakas, hiding in their houses, heard
the “big fella noise” that Bunster made and continued to make for an hour or
more.
When Mauki was done, he carried the boat compass and all the rifles and
ammunition down to the cutter, which he proceeded to ballast with cases of
tobacco. It was while engaged in this that a hideous, skinless thing came out
of the house and ran screaming down the beach till it fell in the sand and
mowed and gibbered under the scorching sun. Mauki looked toward it and
hesitated. Then he went over and removed the head, which he wrapped in a mat
and stowed in the stern locker of the cutter.
So soundly did the kanakas sleep through that long hot day that they did not
see the cutter run out through the passage and head south, close-hauled on the
southeast trade. Nor was the cutter ever sighted on that long tack to the
shores of Ysabel, and during the tedious head-beat from there to Malaita. He
landed at Port Adams with a wealth of rifles and tobacco such as no one man
had ever possessed before. But he did not stop there. He had taken a white
man’s head, and only the bush could shelter him. So back he went to the bush
villages, where he shot old Fanfoa and half a dozen of the chief men, and made
himself the chief over all the villages. When his father died, Mauki’s brother
ruled in Port Adams, and joined together, salt-water men and bushmen, the
resulting combination was the strongest of the ten score fighting tribes of
Malaita.
More than his fear of the British government was Mauki’s fear of the
all-powerful Moongleam Soap Company; and one day a message came up to him in
the bush, reminding him that he owed the Company eight and one-half years of
labor. He sent back a favorable answer, and then appeared the inevitable white
man, the captain of the schooner, the only white man during Mauki’s reign, who
ventured the bush and came out alive. This man not only came out, but he
brought with him seven hundred and fifty dollars in gold sovereigns–the money
price of eight years and a half of labor plus the cost price of certain rifles
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36
and cases of tobacco.
Mauki no longer weighs one hundred and ten pounds. His stomach is three times
its former girth, and he has four wives. He has many other things–rifles and
revolvers, the handle of a china cup, and an excellent collection of bushmen’s
heads. But more precious than the entire collection is another head, perfectly
dried and cured, with sandy hair and a yellowish beard, which is kept wrapped
in the finest of fibre lava-lavas. When Mauki goes to war with villages beyond
his realm, he invariably gets out this head, and alone in his grass palace,
contemplates it long and solemnly. At such times the hush of death falls on
the village, and not even a pickaninny dares make a noise. The head is
esteemed the most powerful devil-devil on Malaita, and to the possession of it
is ascribed all of Mauki’s greatness.
“YAH! YAH! YAH!”
He was a whiskey-guzzling Scotchman, and he downed his whiskey neat, beginning
with his first tot punctually at six in the morning, and thereafter repeating
it at regular intervals throughout the day till bedtime, which was usually
midnight. He slept but five hours out of the twenty-four, and for the
remaining nineteen hours he was quietly and decently drunk. During the eight
weeks I spent with him on Oolong Atoll, I never saw him draw a sober breath.
In fact, his sleep was so short that he never had time to sober up. It was the
most beautiful and orderly perennial drunk I have ever observed.
McAllister was his name. He was an old man, and very shaky on his pins. His
hand trembled as with a palsy, especially noticeable when he poured his
whiskey, though I never knew him to spill a drop. He had been twenty-eight
years in Melanesia, ranging from German New Guinea to the German Solomons, and
so thoroughly had he become identified with that portion of the world, that he
habitually spoke in that bastard lingo called “bech-de-mer.” Thus, in
conversation with me, SUN HE COME UP meant sunrise; KAI-KAI HE STOP meant that
dinner was served; and BELLY BELONG ME WALK ABOUT meant that he was sick at
his stomach. He was a small man, and a withered one, burned inside and outside
by ardent spirits and ardent sun. He was a cinder, a bit of a clinker of a
man, a little animated clinker, not yet quite cold, that moved stiffly and by
starts and jerks like an automaton. A gust of wind would have blown him away.
He weighed ninety pounds.
But the immense thing about him was the power with which he ruled. Oolong
Atoll was one hundred and forty miles in circumference. One steered by compass
course in its lagoon. It was populated by five thousand Polynesians, all
strapping men and women, many of them standing six feet in height and weighing
a couple of hundred pounds. Oolong was two hundred and fifty miles from the
nearest land. Twice a year a little schooner called to collect copra. The one
white man on Oolong was McAllister, petty trader and unintermittent guzzler;
and he ruled Oolong and its six thousand savages with an iron hand. He said
come, and they came, go, and they went. They never questioned his will nor
judgment. He was cantankerous as only an aged Scotchman can be, and interfered
continually in their personal affairs. When Nugu, the king’s daughter, wanted
to marry Haunau from the other end of the atoll, her father said yes; but
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37
McAllister said no, and the marriage never came off. When the king wanted to
buy a certain islet in the lagoon from the chief priest, McAllister said no.
The king was in debt to the Company to the tune of 180,000 cocoanuts, and
until that was paid he was not to spend a single cocoanut on anything else.
And yet the king and his people did not love McAllister. In truth, they hated
him horribly, and, to my knowledge, the whole population, with the priests at
the head, tried vainly for three months to pray him to death. The devil-devils
they sent after him were awe-inspiring, but since McAllister did not believe
in devil-devils, they were without power over him. With drunken Scotchmen all
signs fail. They gathered up scraps of food which had touched his lips, an
empty whiskey bottle, a cocoanut from which he had drunk, and even his
spittle, and performed all kinds of deviltries over them. But McAllister lived
on. His health was superb. He never caught fever; nor coughs nor colds;
dysentery passed him by; and the malignant ulcers and vile skin diseases that
attack blacks and whites alike in that climate never fastened upon him. He
must have been so saturated with alcohol as to defy the lodgment of germs. I