The Cruise of the Kawa: Wanderings in the South Seas Part 10

"What is his name?" Whinney asked.

William Henry Thomas's head rose proudly as his wife replied in thrilling, woodland tones, "Fatakahala."

"Fatakahala!" repeated Baahaabaa, "Flower of Darkness," and William Henry Thomas raised his head as high as it would go.

"When does the ceremony take place?" asked Whinney. Baahaabaa pointed to the distant peak of the mountain.

"Tonight. Maka, the Tattooer, is ready; the fishbones are sharpened; the juice of the tupa-berries fills the holy sh.e.l.l. We go."

All that day we strung ceremonial garlands about the base of the mountain, which, with its circ.u.mference of a mile and three-quarters, was no small task. But sunset found it completed. We supped on the beach and at nine, under a rising moon, climbed toward the summit. The peak was reserved for William Henry Thomas, Maka and her four attendants who bore the utensils and long ropes of _eva-eva_--"to tie him with,"

whispered Baahaabaa.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Nest of a Fatu-Liva]

[Ill.u.s.tration Note: THE NEST OF A FATU-LIVA

This is without question the most extraordinary picture which has ever been taken of any natural history subject. It corroborates in most convincing manner the author's claim to the discovery of the wonderful fatu-liva bird with its unique gift of laying square eggs. Here we see the eggs themselves in all the beauty of their cubical form and quaint marking; here we see the nest itself, made of delicately woven haro and brought carefully from the tree's summit by its discoverer, Babai-Alova-Babai. An extremely interesting feature of the picture is the presence in the nest of lapa or signal-feather. By close observation, Mr. Whinney, the scientist of the expedition, discovered that whenever the mother-bird left the nest in search of food she always decorated her home with one of her wing feathers which served as a signal to her mate that she would return shortly, which she invariably did. Skeptics have said that it would be impossible to lay a square egg. To which the author is justly ent.i.tled to say: "The camera never lies."]

At exactly ten, by the shadow of the mountain on the atoll, William Henry Thomas stepped forth into the moonlight to face his ordeal--alone.

In the darkness we waited, Kippy clinging close to me. Then came a sound at which I could but shudder. It was a giggle, the voice plainly that of William Henry Thomas. This was followed by a hysterical sob of laughter.

"The christening has begun," murmured Kippy.

You can not imagine anything more horrible. _Never_ before to my knowledge had William Henry Thomas laughed. Now, wilder and yet more wild rang his uncontrollable mirth, rising at times to demoniac screams, anon sinking to convulsive chuckles. The worst of it was that it was infectious.

Conscious though we were of the poor wretch's suffering, we could not help joining his vocal expression of it, and thus we sat, in the darkness, our peals of laughter bursting forth at every fresh paroxysm.

Tears of distress rolled down Sw.a.n.k's cheeks.

An hour later the vines parted and a rec.u.mbent form was borne gently down the mountain; William Henry Thomas, that was, his new name wrapped in soft leaves over which his wife sobbed in tender ecstasy.

On the day following a bolt fell from the blue.

Sw.a.n.k and I were spending the afternoon with Triplett on board the Kawa where the captain was explaining the workings of various home-made navigating instruments which he had manufactured.

"This here is a astrolabe," he said, "jacka.s.s quadrant, I call it."

He displayed a sort of rudimentary crossbow. "An' this here is a perspective-gla.s.s, kind of a telescope, see? Made'er bamboo. The lenses ain't very good; had to use fish-skin. Got my compa.s.s-plant nicely rooted in sand, see--she's doin' fine."

"What's this all for?" asked Sw.a.n.k.

Triplett smiled malevolently.

"Don't you want to know where you be? I've got it all figgered out.

Got a chart, too."

He unrolled a broad leaf on which he had drawn a rough sketch of the island, probable north and possible lat.i.tude and longitude.

Again the chill of dismay and apprehension which I had felt before in Triplett's presence ran up and down my spine. It was beginning to dawn upon me that Triplett was planning a get-away. "My G.o.d!" I cried, "take that thing away! What you trying to do, Triplett? Hook us up to civilization with all its deviltry and disease and d.a.m.ned conventions?

Don't you appreciate the beauty of getting outside of the covers of a geography?"

The old devil only grinned, his very leer seeming to say, "I've got a trump card up my sleeve, young man."

What might have been a bitter scene was interrupted by something much more serious.

We saw Whinney running along the edge of the lagoon into which he presently plunged and began swimming madly in our direction. As he drew near I saw that he was deathly white. When we dragged him over the rail he collapsed in the scuppers and burst into tears.

"What is it?" we questioned.

He jerked out his answer in hoa.r.s.e, broken fragments, while our blood froze.

"It's come.... I was afraid of it.... from the first... it's here...

we've done it... we've got to get out... it is not fair..."

"For heaven's sake," I shouted. "What's here? What have we done?"

"Disease!" he panted. "Disease! You know ... how the other islands...

Marquesas... Solomons... Tongas... dying, all dying."

His voice sank and he covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.

"What... what is it? Who has it?"

It was then that Whinney made the supreme call on his nerve, stiffened visibly and answered in a dead voice, "My wife, Babai-Alova-Babai, has p.r.i.c.kly-heat!"

It seemed to me in that moment that the entire atoll revolved rapidly in one direction while the mountain twirled in the other. Through my brain crashed a sequence of sickening pictures, the lepers of Molokai with their hideous affliction imported from China, the gaunt, coughing wrecks of Papeete, the scarecrows of Samoa--and now this!

And Whinney was right. _We_ had done it; who individually, I know not, nor cared, but collectively we were guilty. Into this Eden, this Paradise in which I had never seen or heard of the slightest ailment, we, the prideful whites, had brought this deadly thing!

Should we remain, I dared not face the consequences.

"Is it... bad?" I managed to ask.

"Pretty," moaned poor Whinney. "Left knee, small of back... spreading."

"I'm going home," I said. "We'll meet here tomorrow afternoon at the same tune. If this thing develops" ...

I finished my sentence by diving overboard.

Early next morning I knew the worst. Daughter of Pearl and Coral was restless during the night. When the sun rose a single glance at her polished shoulders and my heart broke, never to be repaired. Folding her gently in my arms, I trembled in a paroxysm of grief.

We spent the entire day together, I in an agony of soul which I could not quite conceal and which my beloved tried to dispel by the tenderest tributes of her consuming love. I cannot speak more of what lies too deeply in my heart.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Fledgling Fatu-Liva]

[Ill.u.s.tration Note: A FLEDGLING FATU-LIVA

It was by the rarest good fortune that Dr. Traprock was able to secure what is probably the only living specimen now in captivity of the hitherto unknown fatu-liva bird. Immediately upon his arrival at Papeete efforts were made to secure a mother bird of any kind which would hatch out the four fatu-liva eggs then in the explorer's possession. Owing to their angular and uncomfortable shape it was found impossible to keep a bird brooding for more than three minutes at a time. After much effort one egg was finally hatched from which was derived the handsome specimen shown in the ill.u.s.tration. The youngster is now doing finely in the Bronx aviary. Unfortunately he is a male, so that his hope of posterity rests entirely upon the success of another expedition to the Filbert Islands.]