Rensselaer Journal, Volume 12, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 June 1902 — The Beocn Comber and the Man-of-war [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Beocn Comber and the Man-of-war

By J. F. BOSE-SOLEY.

[Copyright, 189 S, by the Author.] The copra house was down on the rock bound beach, some 50 yards away from the store, a stretch of uneven, stony soil, with grass patches here and there and great black rocks showing out from the surface, separating the two places where the trader did his business. The old man’s weary feet had worn a deep track across the plot; up and down he went many times a day. The copra house—the title is a misnomers but it is always used in Samoa—was but a mere flimsy erection of rough boards, though iron roofed and water tight. Further, the door was provided with a very substantial padlock, which the trader was at great pains to lock and unlock every time he visited the shed, for the place held the only merchandise the country could produce—all that there was to trade for. The little bits of oily, brown, evil smelling copra must be kept dry or else they would rot long before the time came for shipping them to Europe. And they must be protected from theft, or else the cunning natives would think nothing of taking a few basketfuls at night and reselling them to the trader ..next day. Therefore every time a Samoan came, perhaps with but a few baskets of the copra, the old trader, with a weary sigh, would take a key down from its accustomed nail and plod down to the shed. It was quite a solemn and serious business, this purchase of a few shillings’ worth of produce, and both sides went about it with becoming gravity. The first question that had to be decided was whether the copra was green—that is to say, whether it had been merely warmed in the sun or whether it had been properly dried by several days’ exposure. As the copra is bought by weight, it is, of course, to the native seller’s interest to dry it as little as possible, while the trader, on the other hand, does not want to lose 20 or 30 per cent by shrinkage. So the two argue the point out together, while I sit on the wire inclosed veranda and watch from afar the wordy conflict. Silei, the industrious girl, has got her sewing machine out. She does not put it on a table, as the white lady would, but rests it on a kerosene case on the floor and squats cross legged before it. Of course it is a band machine; natives do not take readily to the use of the treadle. She is fashioning really gorgeous lava-lavas out of the brightest prints Manchester can produce, and when they are made they will be hung up in the store and sold for half a dollar each, perhaps in exchange for the very basket of copra the native is arguing about. He swears with a fluency of Biblical expression which only long missionary training has rendered possible that the copra has been three days in the sun, whereas the trader, judging from his experience, asserts that at the outside it cannot have been more than one, and in cloudy weather too. At last the trader, grumbling somewhat, purchases the copra, for he knows if he does not it will go to his rival close by. He is consoled by the reflection that his balances are 12 pounds out in every 100; also he is an expert at weighing and by dexterously manipulating the scales can make the copra appear several pounds lighter than it really is, and so under the waving palms by the side of the rippling lagoon, nature smiling on them with her most innocent expression, the two complete their ingenious transaction. Both are cheating, and both know it. So perhaps it does not matter very much. The native, having been well taught by the missionaries, will go to church three times next Sunday and say his morning and evening prayers more fervently than ever, so that he will salve his conscience. As for the godless trader, he has no conscience. He has long since lost even the memory of the article. So we need not concern ourselves about him. At last, after another half hour’s haggling in the store, the native goes away with the goods which he has been persuaded to take in exchange for the copra, and the trader comes out of the house and seats himsell wearily beside me, mopping his face the while. As usual he harks back to the old times. “Things were different in those days, ”he said. "Then we could do as we liked with the natives. Now they can do as they like with us. We have to cut things fine to make a living at all.” And to console himself he took a long drink of kava, emptying the cocoanut shell, which held about a pint, at one draft. Silei laughed the musical little laugh of the Samoan maiden. The whir of the Sevang machine ceased and she looked smilingly at the nearly empty bowl. She knew she would soon have to fabricate more kava, an occupation which she particularly enjoyed, I suppose, because it gratified her maiden vanity by enabling her to exhibit herself in the most graceful of attitudes. "Yes, yes, girl, you can make some more,” said the trader. "It’ll keep you from the machine, and we don’t want that infernal thing clicking away while we are talking. “The oil days were the times, ” he began, “before any one invented thia copra and we used to take oil from the natives in payment for everything. Why, even the missionaries used to have a big tank outside the churchdoorand would take up the collection in oil. It was gallons of oil instead of dollars then, but they got the money just the same in the end, and the church prosHis face clouded as he made this last remark. Perhaps, the undoubted prosparity of mission work in Samoa brought him no consolation he would have preferred the natives in their orig-

"nal barbaric state rather than civilized and Christianized and educated up to a standpoint of keen bargaining which rendered it difficult for even the superior intellect of a white man to overreach . them. I He did not say this, though. “I’ve made mote money in a week then than I can do in a year now,” be went on. “Forty years ago, when I was but a young fellow, I started trading on the southern side of Upolu. There was not a white man within 20 miles of me, and I could get any price I liked for an old uniform coat, especially if it had brass buttons on it, but a Tower musket—that was the thing,” and his rugged old face lit up at the pleasant reminiscence. “I had the place to myself for three years, and you may be sure I made a pretty good thing out of it. Wish I had some of the money left now. Then old Jack Wilkinson came along and settled down near me. ” "But who was Jack Wilkinson?” I asked r “Never hear of Jack Wilkinson—old Jack, as he was always called? Why, I thought everybody in Samoa knew of him, but he was getting to be an old man then, and he’s been dead long since, and I suppose you young people have forgotten all about the old fogies. “Well, I’ll tell you about Jack. He was a hard case, one of the regular old style beach combers. He had been 1 don’t know how many years in the group and bad grown to be almost like a native. He used to wear a lava-lava instead of trousers, just like a Samoan, and he could go about barefoot anywhere, even on a coral reef, and that’s a thing few white men can manage without cutting their feet to pieces. “They did say,” and he lowered his voice unconsciously, “that he was one of a party of convicts who had escaped from Australia when it was a penal settlement. They stole a boat and somehow found their way here and made themselves at home among the natives, but the story was only whispered between white men, and it would have been as much as one’s life was worth to even hint at the thing to old Jack. He was a handy man with his knife, and there were no police about to call him to account for his actions. “I got along well enough with Jack, though I must say he had ways of dealing with the natives which I hardly approved of. They were afraid of him, -though, and fed him on the best the land could furnish. Jack never did anything for them in return. He spent his days lying on a mat in the shade of one of their big cool houses, open all round, so that the breeze could pass through and Jack could see all that was going on without even moving. Sometimes, when he was particularly energetic, he would go fishing on the reef at low tide, when coral showed up high above the water, and it was easy enough to spear malauli with long three pronged native spears.

“Still, I soon found it was to my interest to keep in with old Jack. He got twice as much oil as I could for the same amount of trade, and, though he was always abusing and ill treating the Samoans, strangely enough they would take their oil to him rather than to me, and I was as smooth as butter to the natives, talking kindly to them and always giving them little presents. I own that I could never quite make it out to this day, and no man knows the crooks and twists of the Samoan character better than I do. I cannot understand what gave Jack his extraordinary influence over the people, though, to be sure, in the end they killed him on Manono. But I’ll tell you about that some other time. “So it happened that Jack became a sort of subtrader or assistant and would buy the uatlvus’ oil, giving them in return I paid Mm a commission, and I could affopl to do It, for so long as Jack was softer be Was the best hand at bargaining with the Samoans I ever saw, but when he got drunk there was no holding him. I had to get a case of gin down from Apia now and again or else Jack would never have staid with me. Then he would go tearing wild for a week or two until it was all finished and perhaps wind up by setting fire to a native house, or carrying ofl a woman, or something like that. I had to pay for the damage, and then Jack sobered down and went along right enough for another month or two.

“It was this failing that had got the beach comber into trouble at Tanuna, a village about 20 miles along the coast, where he had. lived before coming to my place. The natives there had put up with him for a long time, but at last they got sick of the business, and the chiefs of the town turned dead against him and gave him a week in which to clear out. I never knew rightly what brought this about, for Jack was very reticent on the point, but it must have been &>mething very bad or else the natives would never have summoned up courage to behave os they did. There was a taupo, a village virgin, mixed up in the business, I know, a fine looking girl. She stuck to him all through and came away with him to Salua, where I was. “For a long time Jack had been playing off an old beach comber’s bounce on the natives at Tanuna. Whenever they would turn a bit nasty he would threaten to bring a British man-of-war down on them and have them well punished. This used to scare the people, for men-of-war were scarce in those days, and the Samoans had an almost superstitious awe of their guns. It’s different now, for the natives have seen so much of modern war vessels that they’ve grown to despise them. They aren’t afraid of being shelled either. Why, I’ve seen them over on Upolu, when a man ofwar did actually fire on the rebels, sitting round smoking quite comfortable in the bush behind, while the shots were dropping into their village and doing no harm at all, except perhaps setting fire to a house or two, and when, by pure accident, a shell did fall into a cookhouse and kill five men they said that the victims had been stealing the missionary’s ducks or else they would

not have been killed. Shows the benefit of religious teaching, doesn’t it? “Well, to come back to Jack. The man-of war game at last got played out, because no man-of-war came, and the natives would not believe him any longer. Then be bad to clear, but at the very last, when he was leaving, he told them that he would soon come back with a big war canoe and make them pay a heavy fine in pigs. “The Tanuna people only laughed at him, but as it turned out, strangely enough, Jack kept his word. He had been at Salua about six months when a man-of-war actually did come, not after the natives, but after Jack himself. The consul had at last—for news traveled slowly then—heard of Jack’s pranks at Tanuna, and had sent the Sea Gull, which happened to be in Apia at the time, down to arrest him. It was a bad lookout for Jack, for there were enough crimes charged against him to hang a dozen men. “I was away in the bush hunting wild cattle when the Sea Gull arrived, and that saved Jack—that and his own smartness. The vessel dropped into the lagoon at Salua early one morning and anchored about a mile from the shore, for it was a good, safe harbor, though rather small. Jack from his own hut saw her come in and guessed what she was after. Presently she lowered a boat, and a lieutenant, all gold lace, came ashore in style. Of course he went to my place, for it was the only papalangi house about, and I suppose they thought I would be able to tell them the whereabouts of Jack, having heard that he had been seen around Salua. “When the lieutenant opened the gate, there was Jack, as bold as brass, sitting on an easy chair upon the veranda reading an old newspaper and looking very much at home. “I nearly died of laughing when Jack told me the story afterward, mixn-

icking the haw haw style of the lieutenant, who, of course, did not know a word of Samoan, and took everything that Jack said for gospel truth. “ 'You are Mr Williams, I suppose,’ said the lieutenant as polite as possible, taking off his hat. “ ‘Yessir,’ said Jack. ’Glad to meet you. Step right in and make yourself at home. ’ “So the lieutenant sat down on the veranda and Jack fetched out a bottle of gin, and they had two or three nobblers quite sociable. The officer explained that he had come with a warrant for the arrest of one Jack Wilkinson, whom the British government wanted for murder, arson and a whole host of other crimes. “In return the officer got a most amazing amount of information about the beach comber. “ ‘Do I know the man?’ says Jack. ‘Why, he’s the greatest scoundrel unhung, and he’a ruining my trade by the lies he tells the natives. 1 only wish you would clear him out of Samoa. “ ‘Help you to catch him? Why, I should think I would, and so will every native in the town when they see.the man-of-war here to back them up. The fellow was here last week, but he’s gone to his old place, Tanuna, to try and get some pigs. ’ “When the lieutenant heard this, he was all in haste to get away. " ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry,’ said Jack. ‘You’d better go slow. It’s a most dangerous passage, and the chances are ten to oqe you’ll get stuck on a reef, but if you’ll wait a minute while I close the store I don’t mind going with you and piloting you around. I’d do anything to get that wretch caught.’ "So Jack, putting on my best coat, went off with the lieutenant, and the captain, knowing nothing of the coast, was very glad to accept him as pilot, and gave him S2O for his services too. "On the passage round Jack spun them a long yarn about the savage natives of Tanuna. They were terribly fierce, he said, always fighting, and Wilkinson would probably stir them up to attack the landing party and so prevent his arrest. They ought to go ashore with a strong, armed force and. if possible, a field gun or two. "The advice sounded reasonable enough to the captain, and, of course, the officers and men were delighted at the prospect of a scrimmage. "It was quite a little army which landed that afternoon. There was a whole bargeload of sailors and marines, all armed to the teeth, and a couple of small cannon, which they pointed at the big round chief’s bouse in the center of the village. You may be sure the peaceful people of Tanuna were scared out of their wits. “It was Jack’s turn now, and he made , the most of it. He called all tip chiefs ! together into the marae—-that’s the open i space in the center of the village where ! they always do their talking—and held I a long fono. The lieutenant stood by ail i the time, not understanding a word of what was going on. Jack told the trem- , bling Samoans that the great Queen . Victoria in her palace of the big seas had heard of the way in which one of her people had been treated and had sent the man-of-war to blow the village into the air, to hang all the chiefs and to carry off the rest of the people as slave*. "Naturally the chiefs, seeing all these

tcldlera with theii ihining guns, believed every word of <he yarn, and groveled before Jack, Imploring him at least to save their lives. “The rascally interpreter explained to the lieutenant that the hativea wished to pay homage to the qneen, and that they wonld take steps at once to find out where Wilkinson was hiding. “On the other hand, he told the" chiefs that he had interceded for them, and that the officer bad promised to spare their lives if they brought next morning a whole boatload of pigs and yams and taro and bananas, all the food they could raise. The natives were glad to get off so easily, the young men were sent at once to plantations, and they promised to have everything ready in the morning. “After some more talk, just to cover up his deceit. Jack informed the lieutenant that the man they were after had gone to a place a few miles off in the bush, but that the natives would send after him and bring him back in the morning. “So the officer, well satisfied, took his men and his guns back on board again, and Jack stopped with the natives, being treated now with the greatest respect. .“Next day he had the large village war canoe, which seated 20 paddlers on each side, loaded up with pigs and fresh provisions of all kinds, and went off to do some business with the Sea Gull. As they bad had nothing but salt horse on board for a month, the purser was glad to buy the food, and Jack pocketed SIOO by the transaction. He didn’t give the natives a penny of it, but told them the man-of-war would let them off this time if they wonld promise to behave themselves in future. “Then he informed the captain he had learned that Wilkinson had gone across the mountains to Salua, and that if he liked he would pilot him back there. “On the way Jack thought of a new dodge. He knew that by this time I would have returned from the cattle hunting expedition, and that, if he went ashore with the officer, they would find out who he was. After the way he had fooled the man-of-war he felt certain that there would be no mercy for him. So he persuaded the captain it was no use going straight into Salua with the ship, for Wilkinson would only run away again as soon aa he saw her coming. “ ‘You land me,’ he said, ‘at a point about a mile this side of the town and then stand out to sea for the night. I’ll walk into Salua and tell Wilkinson you’ve abandoned the search and gone away. I’ll keep him there for the night and next morning you can slip in quietly and arrest him before he has time to get away. * “The land to the westward of Salua juts out in a long point, so that a vessel coming from this direction, if she keep well inshore, cannot be seen until she is right off the bay. The man-of-war lay to the other side of this point, and Jack, who knew of a handy boat passage through the reef, was put on shore. In the afternoon he walked into my house and found me wondering where he had got to, as I wanted him to help salt down a fine cow I had shot. “‘Never mind the blanked beef,’he shouted. ‘Get the gin quick or else I shall die of laughing. * “He just held his sides and screamed for about half an hour, and then when he had swallowed a couple of stiff nips he told me all about it. < “I couldn’t help laughing, too, though I did not half like being personated by such an old scoundrel, and, besides, I was afraid I might get into trouble when the captain foumHout 4he trick. He might think I had been helping Jack to deceive them, and perhaps arrest me instead. “I told Jack this, but he only laughed the more. Then I got angry and told him to clear out at Once or else I wonld give him up when the ship came back, but he wouldn’t go for a long time, not until he had finished the bottle, and before he left he wrote a letter to the captain. He wouldn’t let me help him, though he was not much of a scholar. Said he wanted to have the joke all to himself. I kept a copy of the letter as a curiosity. This is what he wrote: “Dere Captinq—This is to thank you for you grate kindenes in takin me for a passige to Tanuna any times you wants a pilet 1 shall be glad to be of servis. es you want any more pigs my friend williams will suppli them. lam goin back to the bush, es you want me you must fetsh me from their Your grateful sarvint, J. Wilkinson. “Then he went off into the thick bush which covered the mountains in the interior of the island, where no white man could catch him. “Next morning I had to bear my share of the joke. When the lieutenant came on shore, he found me sitting on the veranda, just where Wilkinson had been a couple of days before. He made sure he had got his man. It was no use my explaining. So I was arrested and taken off to the man-of-war, and I gave the captain Jack’s letter. He was mad when he read it, but then, like a gentleman, he saw the joke, though it was against him. “‘We’ve been sold,’ he said; ‘most damnably sold, ’ and then he told his officers, and they all laughed together. “They treated me well on board when they found that I was innocent, and I got them some Samoans to guide the party which went into the bush in pursuit of Jack, but it was no manner of use their trying to catch him, even if the natives had not taken care to lead them astray. So after fooling around in the bush for a couple of days, climbing up and down mountains and nearly falling over a precipice, they gave it up, and the man-of-war sailed away.” “And did Jack get off, after all?” I . asked, for I could not help sympathizing with the cunning scoundrel. “Oh, Jack!” concluded the trader. “H 6 came back to my place after awhile and hung round for a month or two, but Samoa, he could see, was getting too i warm So he took the first opportunity of escaping to Fiji, which hadn’t been unexed then.”

“Yes, girl, you can make some more."