TAMATE was on his way to New Guinea at last, and soon the ship in which he sailed was within sight of the island. But that did not mean that he could land at once and begin his work there. He had many things to think of. He must choose a place where the reefs would allow his boat, if he ever had one, to anchor safely; and where any ships that passed could come near enough to let him get on board. He wished to be able to go here and there along the coast, and to open up many roads for others to follow.
He must also have firm ground on which to build a house. The natives of New Guinea could live in swamps. They chose great trees, cut off the branches and fixed the stem deep in the mud. High up above the swamp they built a platform across the tops of the tree trunks, and then a house on the platform. They clambered up to their houses by palm-leaf ladders. Sometimes their villages were built right out into the sea, so that they could paddle about in their canoes in and out underneath their homes.
But though those who had been born in New Guinea could live so, the hot, damp air, and the smells which rose from the swamps would have killed strangers.
Besides that, Tamate wished to teach those he gathered about him to grow many kinds of plants for food, so he had to choose a place where the soil was good.
After a long time he sighted the island of Suau, which looked as if it might be the right place. It lay close to the mainland.
In the bay beside it a single canoe paddled about. There was only one man in the canoe—a big, wild, cruel-looking native. He was fishing. Though he was fierce and strong, he was in terror when he saw the ship. His fishing was forgotten, and he paddled with all his might for the shore.
But the ship could sail much more quickly than his canoe, and soon she overtook him.
Tamate held up some bright beads and a piece of iron, and offered to give them to him, to show that he meant to be friends and not to hurt him in any way. The man waited to get the gifts, and then made off to the shore, while the ship anchored in the bay.
Very soon canoes came out to the vessel, and dark figures clambered up her sides and over her deck. They were very curious to know what kind of a thing this big “canoe” was, and to see the strange white people on board; and they wished to get beads and iron if they could!
Tamate Vaine sat knitting. And as the natives looked at everything and every one, they watched her too. She was the first to win a friend; for there was one big savage, called Kirikeu, who was so much charmed by her and by her knitting that he did not trouble to go with the others to see all that was in the boat, but sat still and watched her. They could not talk to each other at all; but when at sunset time he knew that he must go ashore, he made signs to her that he would go away and sleep, and that when morning came he would return with a gift for her. He could not tell her what the gift would be, but he showed her it would be something to eat.
By the time the sun began to rise next morning the canoes of Suau were ready to paddle to the ship again. Leading all the others was one in which Kirikeu sat with the food he had said he would bring.
But although Kirikeu was friendly, all the others were not. Many of them looked as if they would be glad to pick a quarrel. Their faces were frowning and angry.
Still, Tamate thought he would risk it. From a sailor who had picked up a good many of the words spoken on another island which lay near, he had learned all that he could. At many of the points at which he had landed to look for a home, he had used those words, but he found that no one knew them. The tribes in New Guinea speak many different languages. Here at Suau he found that the natives did know what he meant when he used the words the sailor had taught him. This made him more eager to stay. One other thing he must have. That was good water. A party from the ship landed. When Kirikeu knew that they were looking for water, he led them to a fresh stream.
Near the stream Tamate saw a piece of land that he liked. He bought it from the chief. Then he and his teachers began to build a house. The natives followed him into the woods, and he showed them which trees he wished, and gave them tomahawks with which to cleave the stems. They thought this great fun. They did not do what he wished, because they cared for him, nor because they meant to be friendly. They were just like boys with new knives, ready to cut anything. If they had not been a little afraid of the white man, they would have liked to kill him with the tomahawks, and so get all the cargo in the ship.
Tamate and his wife lived in one end of the chief’s house until their own was built. They hired a room from him. It was a strange room. The bed was spread on the floor. It had no table, nor chair. A wall, only two feet high, ran between it and the room in which the chief lived. It was startling, on wakening in the dim light before the sun rose, to see bones and skulls glimmering from the roof, and dark figures passing through the room.
Houses do not take long to build when they are quite simple, and are made of tree stems and palm fronds. Soon the new house was firm and strong. There was very little in it, and the seats and tables and beds were bare and plain.
Tamate was eager to get all his beads and cloth into the house in order to let the little ship that still lay in the bay sail away. It was not easy to take this bulky money from the boat to the house. Whenever a native saw anything he wished to have, he thought he would like to get it at once, and asked for it. If it was not given to him, he grew angry, and perhaps he stole it when no one was at hand.
One afternoon a band of armed natives passed Tamate. They were daubed with war paint, and looked very terrible. They carried their spears and clubs as if they were ready to use them at any moment. In spite of the daubs of paint, Tamate knew that some of them were men who had been friendly with him. He shouted a greeting to them, but they frowned, and hurried on to the chief’s house where the teachers were. He hastened after them, and went in amongst them. He found that they were led by a chief from the mainland, and that they wished gifts. The Suau chief round whose house they crowded, was very angry. He talked and shouted to the warriors from his platform. Then he called to the teachers to bring guns. When he saw that they would not do it, he rushed in and seized one himself.
Tamate tried to calm his friend, and to make him see that they would not fight, because they had come to bring peace to the island, not war.
The fierce-looking man whom they had seen first in his canoe in the bay, ran at Tamate with his club in the air.
“What do you want?”
“Tomahawks, knives, iron, beads; and if you do not give them to us we shall kill you!”
“You may kill us, but never a thing will you get from us.”
He had to hold to his word alone. The teachers wished him to give the mainland chief and his people some little things for fear they would kill them all. But he said:
“Can’t you see, if we give to these men, others will come from all round and ask gifts, and the end will be that we shall all be killed. No; if they mean to kill us, let them do it now, and be done with it!”
Then Kirikeu came, and begged him to give something. By this time this first Suau friend cared a great deal for the white man, and wished to help him. He thought it was the only way to get rid of the warriors. But Tamate said:
“No, my friend, I never give to people who carry arms.”
Then Kirikeu and the Suau chief began to shout to the strangers again. At last the wild yells came more seldom, and the men from the mainland went with the men of Suau into the bush to talk out the quarrel. Once more they sent to ask for a gift, and once more they were answered as before:
“I never give to armed people.”
Next morning Kirikeu brought the mainland chief to Tamate. Now the warrior was unarmed. The anger and fury of the night before were gone. When he found that he could not force the stranger to give him anything, and that Kirikeu and the Suau chief would not allow him to kill him, he thought that the best thing to do was to try to make peace, and this Tamate gladly did.
While the others were building, Mrs. Chalmers had been winning another friend. A bold young warrior, named Bocasi, used to sit beside her on the platform of the chief’s house. He taught her to speak the Suau words, and she taught him to knit.
Many other natives were becoming friendly to the strangers. Sometimes they brought gifts of vegetables and fish, and sometimes they invited them to their feasts.
Tamate thought that he might leave his teachers in charge at Suau for a short time, and go, in the little ship that still lay in the bay, to see some other villages along the shore. He was very busy clearing out some “bush” near the house, that he might get it planted before he went, when one of the crew came to him, and said:
“I ’fraid, sir, our captain he too fast with natives. One big fellow he come on board, and he sit down below. Captain he tell him get up. He no get up. Captain he get sword, and he tell him if he no get up he cut head off! He get up; go ashore. I fear he no all right. Natives all look bad, and he been off trying to make row we fellow.”
Tamate knew that the “big fellow” was Bocasi. He was vexed that he and the captain had quarrelled, but he did not think there was danger. He said to the sailor:
“Oh no; I think it is all right.”
Then he told the men to stop work. As he was paying them, he heard two shots fired from the ship. He reached the house with a bound. The ship was a small one, not the one in which they had come to Suau, but another which had stayed beside them with cargo until they could land everything they needed. Its crew numbered only four, and this morning the captain and the cook had been left alone on board. The other two were on shore, helping to clear and to plant.
Whenever Tamate heard the shots, he sent these two sailors off to their captain. As he looked out to the ship, he saw natives swarming all over her deck, and some of them tugging at her anchor chain. On a point of rock that ran out towards the ship other dark figures crowded.
What could the captain be doing? Was he going to let the men in the canoes carry the line from his vessel to the wild crowd on the rocks, that they might pull the little ship ashore and wreck her?
Then a great noise rose from the beach, where the ship’s boat lay, and the two sailors came running back to say that natives were in the boat, and would not let it go back to the ship.
Tamate ran off, leaping over fences and bushes till he reached the shore. He sprang to the boat. The natives fled before him, and soon the sailors were rowing hard to reach the ship.
When the natives on board saw them coming they took fright, slipped down into their canoes, and made for the shore. Those on the reef ran back to the village. When the sailors reached the ship, they found their captain lying on deck with a spear-head in his side, and gashes on his head and foot. They were so angry that they began to fire at the crowd of natives that surged backwards and forwards on the shore. Two men were wounded. Tamate did not know what to do first. He longed to get to the ship to stop the firing, but for the moment all he could do was to bandage the wounds of the two natives. Meanwhile the villagers were arming. Clubs and spears seemed to spring from the ground on every side. Angry voices asked, “Where is Bocasi?” “Where is Bocasi?”
Bocasi had gone to the ship and had not come back.
Mr. Chalmers asked two native men to take him in a canoe to the ship. He was very anxious to know what had kept Bocasi. He was too eager to wait till he was on board, so he shouted when he came near—
“Is there still a man on board?”
“Yes, he board.”
Something about the voice of the man who answered made Tamate’s heart sink. He cried, “Is he shot?”
“Yes, he shot dead. Yes, he dead!”
When he got on board he found the captain faint and white. Bocasi had tried to kill the captain, and the captain had shot Bocasi.
The captain might die of his wound. He must be sent to some place where he could be nursed. The body of Bocasi must be taken to Suau. The people there were angry already. When they saw the dead body they would be full of fury. If Tamate went back in the same canoe with it, they would kill him in their first burst of wrath. His wife and the teachers would be left at their mercy, and all his dreams of help for the men of New Guinea would be over. If he let the body go before him, his wife and the teachers would be slain, and he would not be allowed to land again.
One thing must be done first. By hook or by crook he must get ashore before the body. The canoe in which he had crossed lay alongside. The men were just going to place the body in it to row it to the shore.
“Stay,” he cried; “wait for a larger canoe to carry Bocasi’s body.”
While they paused, he seized one native who was still in the canoe, and said, “Take me to shore quick, and give me time to reach the house before you land the body.”
It was never easy to disobey Tamate, so before the other native had time to object, the little canoe was safely on its way to the shore.
Mr. Chalmers was grateful to reach his house and to be amongst the men of Suau again, but he knew that the hardest time was still before him.
When the dead body was brought to land there was great mourning and wailing. Bocasi was a warrior. He was young and handsome, and his people were proud of him.
The natives could not make up their minds what to do. Now they carried their weapons lowered for peace. Again they strutted about with them raised for war. East, and north, and west canoes could be seen. They were all coming to Suau. From each canoe as it touched the island a band of armed men landed, joined the crowd and added to the tumult. As the twilight fell, Tamate sent out bandages and medicine to the captain, and told him to be ready to sail that night.
A party of natives came rushing to the fence which ran round the bare new built house.
“Come out and fight,” they shouted, “and we will kill you for Bocasi.”
Then a chief came. “You must give payment for Bocasi’s death,” he said.
“Yes, I will give, but remember I have had nothing to do with Bocasi’s death.”
“You must give it now.”
“I cannot. If you will come to-morrow when the big star rises I will give it you.”
The chief went sulkily away.
Soon afterwards a native stole out of the bush. He did not speak angrily nor ask for gifts. He had come on another errand.
“Tamate,” he said, “you must go to-night. At midnight you may have a chance. To-morrow morning when the big star rises they will kill you.”
“Are you sure of it?”
“Yes, I have just come from the chief’s house. That is what they have agreed. They will do nothing till to-morrow morning.”
Tamate told this to his wife, and asked her if she wished to go away. Perhaps he knew what she would say. At any rate she answered as he would have done.
“We will stay. God will take care of us. If we die, we die: if we live, we live.”
Then they asked the wives of the teachers. They were brave too. They said, “Let us live together or die together.”
That night they gathered quietly for evening service in their strange new home. They could not sing lest the sound should bring the natives to attack them. Though the teachers knew English, they were not quite at home in it, so Tamate spoke in Rarotongan, that they might follow every word.
On the hush, broken only by his voice in prayer, a grating sound fell. It was the clank of the chain, on the side of the ship and on the windlass, as the anchor was drawn up.
When they rose from prayer and looked out, the ship was leaving the bay. The last chance of escape was gone. They were alone amongst the fierce and angry natives.
Instead of going to sleep, Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers spent the night making parcels. They tied up large gifts for the near friends of Bocasi and smaller ones for the others.
Through the darkness came the sound of war-horns, and the shouts of bands of fighters who came from the other side of Suau and from the mainland. At four next morning the chief strode in. He looked at the gifts.
“It is not enough; can you not give more?”
“If you wait till the steamer comes I may.”
“I must have more now.”
“I cannot give you more now.”
Groups of natives came to the fence. They shouted: “More, give more.”
But no notice was taken and they went away. Daylight came, and still the new house and those within it were unhurt. Kirikeu wandered near the house.
“Let no one go out,” he said.
The day passed slowly, but still he kept close to the house.
About three o’clock next morning Tamate lay down to rest. But scarcely had he fallen asleep when his wife roused him.
“Quick! They have taken the house.”
The door was only a piece of cloth hung across the entrance. Tamate sprang to it and drew aside the curtain. In front of him a great band of armed men swayed. Another party blocked the end of the house. In the dim light the chief from the mainland stood out as leader.
“What do you want?” shouted Tamate.
“Give us more, or we will kill you and burn the house.”
“Kill you may, but no more payment do I give. If we die we shall die fighting.”
The chief cowered in fear. The weapon of the white man was uncanny and strange. The courage of the white man alone against them all was stranger still.
“Go!” said Tamate; “tell the others there must be an end of this. The first man who crosses the line where the fence stood is a dead man. Go!”
And they went! They went and talked. Talked wildly and fiercely too, but in less than two hours Kirikeu came to say that all was well.
On the shore they saw a large war-canoe ready to start, and watched the quick dark figures of the natives as they lifted hundreds of smaller canoes into the water. The warriors from the mainland shouted back: “We return to-morrow, to kill not only the white man and his friends, but to kill all of you.” But before to-morrow came they thought they would stay at home!
The white man’s courage had awed the natives, and though the chief of Suau would have liked to get larger presents, he did not wish the strangers to be killed. The iron and beads they brought had made him wealthy. When he saw that nothing would move Tamate, he turned against the others.
“If you try to kill him,” he said, “you must kill me first.”
That was why the mainland chief said he would kill the men of Suau with the strangers!