COMMANDER TAZEWELL and the midshipmen dined that evening with Mr. Lee and his daughters.
“The evidence is all in, commander,” the American consul said as the party sought the cool sea breeze on the “lanai,”[24] facing the harbor. “The chief justice will probably render his decision in the morning.”
Tazewell expressed his gratification.
“And the Herzovinian consul?” he asked. “Does he still refuse to help to prevent a war?”
Mr. Lee’s face became grave.
“The three consuls held a meeting this afternoon after you had gone,” he said in reply. “The English consul and I unconditionally agreed to support the judge’s choice. Mr. Carlson seemed ill at ease. He could not be made to give a direct answer on any question, and all of a sudden he declared he had an important engagement and bolted from the room. We saw that he was under a serious mental strain.”
“I see,” Commander Tazewell said quietly. “Have you an idea what the decision will be?” he asked.
Mr. Lee remained silently in thought for a moment. “Personally no, but my confidants among the natives all say Judge Lindsay is against Kataafa. I know the judge to be an honorable and unbiased man,” he added in defense of his friend. “That we Americans are inclined in our sympathies for Panu would have no influence with him at all. This unimpeachable testimony of the demand made some years ago by Herzovinia and Kataafa’s recent discourtesy to the court in keeping the judge waiting, besides practically refusing to agree to abide by the judge’s decision, may influence a judgment against him.”
“Then Carlson must have received instructions to uphold the judge’s decision, only in case it is favorable to Kataafa,” the commander said. “Now that it appears to be going against him, he refuses to stand with you and your British colleague.”
Mr. Lee nodded his head. “That seems to be the one possible solution.”
Commander Tazewell had given the consul that morning a full account of the “Talofa.” Now he brought up the subject of the meeting of the Panu warriors and their “tonga-fiti.”
“I had at first thought to advise Tuamana against any action by the Panu warriors,” Commander Tazewell said, “but on second thoughts I decided it was better to keep my hands off and trust it to you. If those boxes landed from the ‘Talofa’ do contain guns, they ought to be seized, but not by natives, even though they say they will turn them over to the judge.” Mr. Lee nodded his agreement with the sentiment.
“As soon as I got your note telling me of the ‘tonga-fiti,’” Mr. Lee replied, “I went at once to Tuamana. I advised him against action. You see, commander,” Mr. Lee declared earnestly, “a forcible entry into the Kapuan firm’s store will bring the Herzovinian sailors ashore to protect their property.”
“Good. I’m glad you saw Tuamana,” Commander Tazewell assured him. “And he agreed to carry out your wish?” he asked.
“He listened very patiently and seemed to agree,” Mr. Lee said. “Then he told me that he now knew the guns were not at the store, but still on the ‘Talofa’ and were to be landed to-night at Saluafata.”
“That is what this man Stump also claims,” the commander exclaimed. “By the way, thank you for your promptness in having the poor fellow released. O’Neil has him in charge on board the ‘Sitka.’”
While the consul and the commander discussed the affairs of the nations, the young people had gone to the landing, where O’Neil had brought the sailing launch, its sails spread and flapping in the gentle breeze.
Miss Lee had brought her banjo and Avao, who joined them, held an Hawaiian “ukalele,” a small guitar with only three strings. As the sail filled and the launch gathered way, their young voices charmed the night with a variety of plaintive Kapuan songs. Several canoes with both men and women natives, paddling lazily across the bay, joined in the songs. It seemed like fairyland to the midshipmen.
They sailed around the men-of-war in turn, serenading; then shaped their course for Kulinuu Point on the western side of Ukula.
“What do you know new?” Phil asked Alice during a lull in the music.
“That the guns are to be landed from the ‘Talofa’ at Saluafata to-morrow, and that Kataafa leaves Kulinuu with all his people to-night,” she replied.
“Where did you hear this?” he asked wonderingly.
“Avao told me, but every one in Ukula knows it,” she answered. “There’s no difficulty learning secrets. No secrets are kept. The difficulty is to recognize a secret from a trick.”
“What do you mean?” Phil inquired, mystified.
Alice laughed lightly thrumming the cords of the “ukalele” Avao had relinquished.
“When you have a secret which you know will be found out before you can act,” she explained, “why, you deliberately spread a lot of rumors which will confuse your enemies. I have heard that the arms were to be landed at Vaileli, and that Klinger had said he was going there. That Kataafa was going to Saluafata and also Melie. That the arms were already in Kulinuu. That the arms were on the Herzovinian war-ship and would be given to Kataafa at Saluafata to-morrow, and that the arms were in the boxes on the porch of the Kapuan firm’s store.”
“Well,” Phil exclaimed, “that is rather confusing. And you decided that the arms would be landed in Saluafata?”
Alice nodded. “I was all this afternoon at the ‘lookout’ on Mission Hill,” she said. “I saw the ‘Talofa’ far out on the horizon, her hull invisible, only the top of her masts in sight. With this breeze she could have gone out of sight. She’s waiting for darkness.”
“And Kataafa is leaving Kulinuu to-night?” Phil asked.
“I got that from Mary Hamilton,” she answered. “Klinger’s wife is from Saluafata. Her father is the chief of that village. She came to Ukula this morning from the Vaileli plantation where Klinger ordinarily lives. She left in a canoe for Saluafata.”
Phil gazed in wonder at the slim girl beside him. “You’re a marvel,” he exclaimed admiringly.
Alice smiled. “I love to work things out,” she acknowledged. “You men seem so incapable, while the motives of the natives are really so easy to follow.”
The boat was sailing near Kulinuu Point. Phil glanced across the intervening water.
“Let’s land and walk home,” he said to Alice. All agreed readily.
A passing canoe was called alongside the deep draft launch and the passengers quickly transferred.
“All right, O’Neil,” Phil said. “You may return to the ship. We’ll go back to town on foot.”
They landed on the pebbly beach and walked across to the main street leading between the double row of royal palm trees. It was a deserted village. Every one had departed.
Avao found an old woman crooning in the corner of a house and asked her a question.
The old hag recognized her and turned upon her fiercely.
At the Kapuan firm’s store, on their way home, the party again stopped. Avao’s quick eye caught the gleam of metal from the porch. She deliberately walked forward until a challenge brought her to a stop. Phil saw a Herzovinian sailor, gun leveled, walk toward the girl, who was standing stock-still several paces from the steps.
The challenge had brought several more sailors to the door. Many natives, living in houses in the surrounding bush, quickly gathered, and their childish curiosity pressed them forward. Before five minutes had elapsed a crowd of nearly fifty warriors and maidens were surrounding the front of the store; and as their number swelled, the crowd grew more bold and advanced toward the house. The sailors stood their ground with guns held ready.
“This is awkward,” Phil exclaimed excitedly to Sydney. “Something’s got to be done at once or we’ll have the ‘tonga-fiti’ after all. Follow me.” He advanced, pushing his way through the crowd. The midshipmen were in uniform, and the natives gave way readily before them. Phil had almost reached Avao’s side, when a loud report of a rifle discharged brought him to a stand. Several more shots were then fired in rapid succession. The natives instantly backed away; but when they found no one had been hurt they stopped and began talking and gesticulating wildly.
Phil seized Avao by the arm and turned quickly back toward the road.
From out on the water a rocket soared into the sky.
“Well, of all the mysteries,” Phil exclaimed as they hurried back toward the consulate. “I wonder if the guns are in that store after all?”
At the landing the Herzovinian cutters were beginning to arrive as Phil and his party passed. They saw a company of sailors with two officers quickly form and move at double time up the road.
The lads soon saw Commander Tazewell and the American consul hurrying toward the town.
“What has happened?” Commander Tazewell demanded of Phil as they met.
Phil breathlessly explained. “I suppose the war-ship thought it was an attack,” he ended. “But why are the guards there at all unless the guns are in the store and not on board the schooner? Kulinuu is deserted,” he added. “We landed there and walked home.”
“Kataafa probably has the guns by now,” Commander Tazewell said to the consul in a low voice which Phil could barely hear. “Is this a plan to trick us into committing ourselves before the chief justice’s decision is rendered?”
“There’s no need of our going further, commander,” the consul said, nervously regarding his daughters with a fond eye and fearful of danger to them. “Come back with me. We can talk more privately.”
A figure proceeding from the landing was soon recognized as the British captain.
He was given a full account of the incident, and appeared very much relieved.
“When I heard the shots and the answering rocket from the war-ship,” he exclaimed, “I at once imagined that Kataafa was attacking Ukula. I have my men ready and the boats lowered,” he added. “Thought I’d come ashore to look about first. I was going to camp them in the British consul’s yard.”
The party, with the exception of Avao, returned to the American consulate. The “Tapau,” with an innocent smile and a cheery “Talofa, Alii,”[25] slipped away by a “bush” trail.
“What we need, Tazewell,” the British captain declared as the “lanai” was reached and all were seated quietly, “is information. We must send out scouts and find out where this Kataafa has gone and what that fellow Klinger is up to. Our mysterious count,” he added, “is not out purely for pleasure.”
“I have been thinking over a plan,” Commander Tazewell replied. “This Captain Scott is an American citizen and is sailing under the Herzovinian flag. His mate, Stump, who deserted him, has given us evidence that he came into Ukula with ‘blacks’ for the Kapuan firm and guns for Klinger. All circumstances seem to show that we shall find everything we are searching for at Saluafata. That’s the Herzovinian port, leased to their government, and I dare not send there to arrest him. But I can send a party by land to observe and bring us news.”
“Right-oh!” the British captain agreed. “I think I’ll send my steam pinnace to fish along the edge of the reef toward Saluafata. There’s rare fishing there. Have you ever trolled for these big Kapuan bonitos, using pearl-shell hooks?” he asked. “I have a lieutenant who is keen on it.”
Preparations were made at once for an early start on the morrow. The distance to Saluafata by trail was about fifteen miles, and by water scarcely ten. A code of signals was decided upon to facilitate communication between the American land party and the British steam launch. Mr. Lee took upon himself the supply of ponies. The two midshipmen and O’Neil were selected by Commander Tazewell to go.
“I’ll send them openly,” Commander Tazewell said, as the naval officers rose to take their departure from the consulate; “in uniform, of course.”
Alice Lee endeavored in vain to win her father’s permission to go along with the midshipmen. “I may be able to help them,” she declared. “I know the trail and speak Kapuan.”
The midshipmen and O’Neil were on the dock at an early hour the next day. There they found three intelligent little ponies waiting them. Phil carried a sketch chart of the road to be taken.
As they passed through the Matautu district of Ukula, they caught a glimpse of Alice’s wistful face gazing upon them from the porch of the consulate. She waved them a good-bye, while all three raised their caps in return.
“She’s a plucky girl,” Sydney exclaimed, “but I feel more free without a girl along. We can’t tell; there may be a chance for a fight before we get back.”
O’Neil chuckled. “No fear,” he said. “A Kapuan wouldn’t raise his finger against a naval officer. Unless,” he added grimly, “these scheming white traders put them up to it.”
The trail was none too good for their ponies and the going was slow. At the village of Tangali they stopped and got a black boy, a laborer on a near-by plantation, to gather for them a few green cocoanuts. The boy readily climbed a tall slender tree with the agility of a monkey.
“All he requires is a tail,” Phil said as the black boy dropped the fruit into their hands and then came rapidly down to receive his reward.
At the next village, Paulei, which was deserted, as was the former town, of all except old women and children, O’Neil pointed out the very spot where the American Captain O’Malley had tricked the Herzovinian war-ship in its attempt to bombard the Kataafa warriors nearly a decade ago.
“He knew to the king’s taste how to handle a foreigner, and they all liked him for it too,” he exclaimed admiringly.
“The Irish have a way with ’em,” Sydney said, smiling broadly.
“Not at all, sir,” the sailor replied. The joke apparently passed him by without notice, except for a comical deprecating glance at its author. “He couldn’t be bluffed and was always on the job. If it hadn’t been for him the Herzovinian flag would be flying over these islands to-day.”
“Maybe it would be a good thing,” Phil said, and Sydney agreed quickly, to lead O’Neil on.
“It ain’t the islands, sir; that ain’t what’s making me want to see the foreigners get left,” O’Neil explained. “It’s the way they go about trying to get ’em.”
“I suppose, O’Neil,” Sydney interjected, “that you think it would have been more gentlemanly and in keeping with the dignity of a great country to just take them and let the British and Americans like it or lump it as they pleased.”
“Exactly so, sir,” O’Neil declared. “That’s the way I figure it ought to be done.”
“That’s because you’re Irish, O’Neil,” Phil told him jokingly. “The Irish always seize the government. When they can’t control it, they’re against it. The nation that gets these islands,” he added, “desires to be right before the world. To do so she must have a very good excuse to seize them. All three nations would be glad to take an option on the group, but when one appears to be gaining ground, the other two combine against her.”
“That’s it exactly, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil exclaimed. “But Herzovinia is gaining among the natives. Even though they are taking their land, they are making money for the natives. The Americans and English are standing in the way of Kapuan prosperity.”
“If one nation owned these islands by itself, it could make them a paradise,” Sydney exclaimed enthusiastically. “I have never seen such magnificent country in my life. It seems a natural garden, and back there on the mountains,” he added, glancing toward Mount Lautu with its crater-shaped summit, “they say are the finest and most valuable hard wood trees in the world.”
“You may be sure,” O’Neil confided, “Herzovinia is going to get this island. A statesman, way back in the eighties, wrote that in his note-book and every one of them ‘savvys’[26] the plan and is pulling for it. If we just set our eyes on the other island, Kulila, with the harbor shaped like a shoe, called Tua-Tua, and give up our share in this one, England would have to pull stakes and get out.”
Both midshipmen laughed. “We might have known O’Neil would be against the English,” Sydney said.
“What has England ever done for the Irish?” O’Neil replied defensively.
The three horsemen crossed two fair sized streams, stopping to allow their ponies to plunge their hot noses deep into the cool mountain water. From the next hill the harbor of Saluafata opened out before them.
“There’s the ‘Talofa,’” Sydney cried joyfully. They searched the ocean for the steam launch, but the land and trees shut out the view to the westward.
“Hark!” O’Neil exclaimed. They listened. From below them the faint music of singing came up to them. “There’s where the people are, down there,” he added.
“War canoes,” O’Neil said pointing. The beach was hidden by the foliage, but as O’Neil spoke several large canoes had suddenly appeared, being propelled swiftly alongside the anchored schooner.
Phil urged his horse onward.
“Excuse me, sir,” O’Neil exclaimed nervously. “Those glasses you have there,” indicating a pair of ship’s binoculars Phil wore slung over his shoulders, “will give us all the information we want without going any further into the lion’s mouth.”
Phil gazed upon the sailor in surprise.
“Do you think there is danger in riding down there?” he asked.
O’Neil hesitated. “That depends,” he answered thoughtfully.
“Upon what?” Sydney insisted.
“Upon what the white men who are fixing this show intend doing,” the sailor said.
“We can’t turn back now,” Phil declared. “It would look as if we were afraid.”
O’Neil nodded. “I guess you’re right, Mr. Perry,” the boatswain’s mate replied grimly. He knew from experience the danger in appearing before an army of armed warriors, who have been keyed to the highest pitch of savage excitement.
The three horsemen urged their steeds forward and descended the hill road leading down to the populous town of Saluafata.