Stevenson's Shrine Part 4

Grieve oh, my heart! I cannot bear to look on, At the chiefs who are a.s.sembling.

Alas! Tusitala, thou art not here; I look hither and thither in vain for thee, Refrain, groan, and weep, oh, my heart in its sorrow!

Alas! for Tusitala, he sleeps in the forest.

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CHAPTER IV

THE AFTERMATH

The object of my journey was attained. Samoa, with its mist-swept mountains, its sun-lit waterfalls, its gleaming "etherial musky highlands," lay behind me, dim as a dream, a pictured memory of the past; and yet I had not done with the Islands. At two, if not three, of the Fijian group, we were to s.h.i.+p copra and sugar; and report had said that the Fiji Islands were more lovely than the Samoan. So I add a valedictory chapter--an epilogue in fact--contenting myself with the very briefest of descriptions, trusting that my ill.u.s.trations will supply the missing details.

We were bound for Levuka, and we pa.s.sed en route the small island of Apolima, for which Stevenson conceived so great an admiration, although I fancy he never landed there, but only saw it, as I did, from the deck of a steamer. Basking in the golden radiance of the evening light, Apolima looked like the long-lost Island of Avilion,

"Where falls nor rain, nor hail, nor any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns, And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea."

In the centre of the island is an extinct crater, and this crater is all one luxuriant tangle of dense bush. Here and there among the trees peeped out the brown huts of native Chiefs, for Apolima is a sacred island, and only the high Chiefs are privileged to dwell there. Next day we sighted Levuka, which looked more like a mountain range than an island.

The coral barrier extends for a mile and a half beyond the sh.o.r.e of Levuka, the reef showing occasional openings, and within one of these openings was the harbour.

These openings are like so many gates into fields of calm water, and fatal indeed would be any attempt to force a pa.s.sage, for on the treacherous reef itself there is always to be seen the line of churned-up foam, and always to be heard, for miles away, the thunder of the surf. Here was the piteous spectacle of many a wreck, the bare ribs of death showing above the merciless coral.

At Apia the harbour lights showed through the gaunt skeleton of the _Adler_, and just outside the roadstead of Levuka my attention was drawn to all that was left of an East Indiaman.

If the coral could but speak what tales might it not tell of poor, drenched, fordone humanity, clutching with bleeding hands at what was so cruel and so inexorable--now sucked back by the indrawn breath of the waves, and now flung remorselessly forward on to the beautiful, bared teeth of the reef, until Death, more merciful than Life, put an end to their sufferings.

As we pa.s.sed the reef I noticed that the vivid blue _within_ the natural harbour was separated from the "foamless, long-heaving, violet ocean"

_without_, by a submarine rainbow.

Every colour was here represented and every gradation of colour. It looked as if the sun were s.h.i.+ning below the water through the medium of some hidden prism.

"Is it always beautiful like this?" I asked one of my friends on board who had spent many years in these parts, and who with eyes intently gazing sh.o.r.eward, stood beside me on the upper deck.

"Always," was the prompt reply, "at least, I have never seen it otherwise.

Looks like a necklace of opals, does it not?"

"What causes the colour?"

"I have been waiting for that question, and it's a difficult one to answer. I should say it was due to the difference of depth at which the patches of coral, seaweed, and white sand are to be found, and the effect of the suns.h.i.+ne on them through the clear, shallow, greenish water that covers the irregular surface of the reef. The shades of colour vary with the ebb and flow of the tide. I've seen it through a golden haze, and I've seen it through a violet haze, but always with these prismatic colours; it is at its very best at noontide. If you look over the side of the steamer you will see how the colours lie, not on the surface, but below the water--the deeper you can see, the more varied and intense the colour."

On landing at Levuka it needed no one to tell us that desolation in the form of a hurricane had recently swept over the island. The ruined church confronted us, with ruined houses, and toppled over palms, the entire beach was strewn with broken sh.e.l.ls, rainbow-coloured fragments of departed loveliness. We landed and took a nearer survey of the disaster.

At the little noisy wharf crowds of natives pressed goods on us for sale, among them being lovely baskets of coral, conch sh.e.l.ls, _sulu's_ and _tapa_. The Roman Catholic church had escaped, as by a miracle, for all around it were fallen palms. We entered and admired the inlaid (native) wood-work, and the beautiful pink sh.e.l.l, on a carved wooden stand, that served as a font.

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We left Levuka in the evening and reached Suva early next morning. I was awakened by the shrill trumpeting of conch sh.e.l.ls, and hurrying on deck I saw alongside of us a boat full of natives, several of whom held conch sh.e.l.ls to their mouths, and made a truly ear-piercing sound. I attempted to buy the largest of these sh.e.l.ls, but its native owner refused to sell it.

In some respects Suva was the most picturesque island that we visited. The outlines were more rugged and varied than those of Samoa, and the growth of bush was certainly more luxuriant. One curiously rounded mountain peak went by the name of The Devil's Thumb. We landed at seven o'clock, in the cool of the morning, and the delicious fragrance of the air left an abiding impression. After some discussion as to the best manner of spending our last day ash.o.r.e, we decided to hire a little steam launch and go up the River Rewa as far as the sugar factory and plantation. This we did, and saw amongst other novelties the scarlet and black land crabs that live in holes along the mud banks on either side, as well as the oysters clinging to the branching roots of the mangroves.

The sugar plantation was very interesting, as we here saw the natives at work in the cane-fields, but the factory was hot, sticky, and heavy with the nauseating smell of brown sugar. We returned at seven o'clock, and after dinner made a tour of inspection in the town.

Suva, being the capital of the Fiji Islands, is quite an imposing little place. There are no turf roads here but streets with shops and pavements, all well lighted, and gay with colour. We bought many curiosities and returned to the steamer laden with our treasures.

Next morning we left for Sydney, and although we touched at several little atolls en route, we only landed at two of them, and then only for about an hour.

So ended my tour. I set out on my pilgrimage with but one end in view, namely, THE GRAVE. I returned with "rich eyes and poor hands." I had attained, but my attainment was shadowed by regret, for I had left my heart behind me, "my soul" had gone "down with these moorings, whence no windla.s.s might extract nor any diver fish it up."

FINISH.