LONG CHARLEY'S GOOD LITTLE WIFE
There was the island, only ten miles away, and there it had been for awhole week. Sometimes we had got near enough to see Long Charley'shouse and the figures of natives walking on the yellow beach; and thenthe westerly current would set us away to leeward again. But that nighta squall came up, and in half an hour we were running down to the land.When the lights on the beach showed up we hove-to until daylight, andthen found the surf too heavy to let us land.
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We got in close to the reef, and could see that the trader'scopra-house was full, for there were also hundreds of bags outside,awaiting our boats. It was clearly worth staying for. The trader, atall, thin, pyjama-clad man, came down to the water's edge, waved hislong arm, and then turned back and sat down on a bag of copra. We wentabout and passed the village again, and once more the long man came tothe water's edge, waved his arm, and retired to his seat.
In the afternoon we saw a native and Charley together among the bags;then the native left him, and, as it was now low tide, the kanaka wasable to walk to the edge of the reef, where he signalled to us. Seeingthat he meant to swim off, the skipper went in as close as possible,and backed his foreyard. Watching his chance for a lull in the yetfierce breakers, the native slid over the reef and swam out to us asonly a Line Islander or a Tokelau man can swim.
"How's Charley?" we asked, when the dark man reached the deck.
"Who? Charley? Oh, he fine, plenty copra. Tapa my bowels are filledwith the sea--for one dollar! Here ARIKI VAKA (captain) and you TUHITUHI (supercargo)," said the native, removing from his perforated andpendulous ear-lobe a little roll of leaf, "take this letter from themean man that giveth but a dollar for facing such a GALU (surf). Hastplenty tobacco on board, friends of my heart? Apa, the surf! Not acanoe crew could the white man get to face it. Is it good twisttobacco, friends, or the flat cakes? Know that I am a man of Nanomea,not one of these dog-eating people here, and a strong swimmer, else theletter had not come."
The supercargo took the note. It was rolled up in many thicknesses ofbanana-leaf, which had kept it dry--
"DEAR FRIENDS,--I have Been waiting for you for near 5 months. I amChock full of Cobberah and Shark Fins one Ton. I am near Starved Out,No Biscit, no Beef, no flour, not Enything to Eat. for god's Saik sendme a case of Gin ashore if you Don't mean to Hang on till the sea goesDown or I shall Starve. Not a Woman comes Near me because I am Run outof Traid, so please try also to Send a Peece of Good print, as thereare some fine Women here from Nukunau, and I think I can get one for awife if I am smart. If you Can't take my Cobberah, and mean to Go away,send the Squair face [Square face--Hollands gin], for god's saik, andsomething for the Woman,--Your obliged Friend, CHARLES."
We parcelled a bottle of gin round with a small coir line, and sent itashore by the Nanomea man. Charley and a number of natives came to theedge of the reef to lend a hand in landing the bearer of the treasure.Then they all waded back to the beach, headed by the white man in thedirty pyjamas and sodden-looking FALA hat. Reaching his house, heturned his following away, and shut the door.
"I bet a dollar that fellow wouldn't swap billets with the angelGabriel at this partikler moment," said our profane mate thoughtfully.
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We started weighing and shipping the copra next day. After finishingup, the solemn Charley invited the skipper and supercargo to remainashore till morning. His great trouble, he told us, was that he had notyet secured a wife, "a reg'lar wife, y'know." He had, unluckily, "lostthe run" of the last Mrs Charley during his absence at another islandof the group, and negotiations with various local young women had beenbroken off owing to his having run out of trade. In the South Seas, asin the civilised world generally, to get the girl of your heart isusually a mere matter of trade. There were, he told us with amelancholy look, "some fine Nukunau girls here on a visit, but the oneI want don't seem to care much about stayin', unless all this new tradefetches her."
"Who is she?" enquired the skipper.
"Tibakwa's daughter."
"Let's have a look at her," said the skipper, a man of kind impulses,who felt sorry at the intermittency of the Long One's connubialrelations. The tall, scraggy trader shambled to the door and bawledout: "Tibakwa, Tibakwa, Tibakwa, O!" three times.
The people, singing in the big MONIEP or town-house, stopped theirmonotonous droning, and the name of Tibakwa, was yelled vociferouslythrough-out the village in true Gilbert Group style. In the Gilberts,if a native in one corner of a house speaks to another in the opposite,he bawls loud enough to be heard a mile off.
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Tibakwa (The Shark) was a short, squat fellow, with his broad back andchest scored and seamed with an intricate and inartistic network ofcicatrices made by sharks' teeth swords. His hair, straight, coarse,and jet-black, was cut away square from just above his eyebrows to thetop of his ears, leaving his fierce countenance in a sort of frame.Each ear-lobe bore a load--one had two or three sticks of tobacco,twined in and about the distended circle of flesh, and the other aclasp-knife and wooden pipe. Stripped to the waist he showed hismuscular outlines to perfection, and he sat down unasked in the bold,self-confident, half-defiant manner natural to the Line Islander.
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"Where's Tirau?" asked the trader.
"Here," said the man of wounds, pointing outside, and he called out ina voice like the bellow of a bull--"TIRAU O, NAKO MAI! (Come here!)"
Tirau came in timidly, clothed only in an AIRIRI or girdle, and slunkinto a far corner.
The melancholy trader and the father pulled her out, and she dumpedherself down in the middle of the room with a muttered "E PUAK ACARON;KACARON; TE MALAN! (Bad white man)."
"Fine girl, Charley," said the skipper, digging him in the ribs. "Oughtto suit you, eh! Make a good little wife."
Negotiations then began anew. Father willing to part, girlfrightened--commenced to cry. The astute Charley brought out some newtrade. Tirau's eye here displayed a faint interest. Charley threw her,with the air of a prince, a whole piece of turkey twill, 12yards--value three dollars, cost about 2s. 3d. Tirau put out a littlehand and drew it gingerly toward her. Tibakwa gave us an atrociouswink.
"She's cottoned!" exclaimed Charley.
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And thus, without empty and hollow display, were two loving hearts madeto beat as one. As a practical proof of the solemnity of the occasion,the bridegroom then and there gave Tirau his bunch of keys, which shecarefully tied to a strand of her AIRIRI, and, smoking one of thecaptain's Manillas, she proceeded to bash out the mosquitoes from thenuptial couch with a fan. We assisted her, an hour afterwards, to hoistthe sleeping body of Long Charley therein, and, telling her to bathehis head in the morning with cold water, we rose to go.
"Good-bye, Tirau!" we said.
"TIAKAPO [Good-night]", said the good Little Wife, as she rolled up anempty square gin bottle in one of Charley's shirts for a pillow, anddisposed her graceful figure on the matted floor beside his bed, to fightmosquitoes until daylight.