Copyright Story. Stealing of Sa Luia.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXI, Issue XVII, 24 October 1903, Page 7

Copyright Story. Stealing of Sa Luia.

By

LOUIS BECKE.

Author of “Rodman the Boat Steerer,” etc.

One dull rainy morning, as the ship St. George, of New Bedford, was cruising for sperm whales near Vanikoro Island, the look-out reported a boat in sight. The captain was called, at once went aloft, and kept the ship away. Ihe boat contained three natives—a man and two young girls—who appeared to be greatly exhausted, for after feebly raising their heads for a moment and putting out their hands imploringly, they fell back again. As quickly as possible the sufferers were brought on board, and their own boat, which was a small, native-built craft much like a whale boat, but with an outrigger tmlicd, was hoisted on deiri. for she was too good a craft to be turned ■adrift.

On the w iiaieship was a Samoan named Ealaoa, who at once recognised the unfortunates as country-people of his own. the man, who was in a dreadful sc.’te of emaciation, and barely able to raise his voice above a whisper, was over six feet in height, and appeared to be about five and twenty years of age; his companions had evidently not undergone as inui u suflering and ilid not present the same shocking appearance, for the son had burnt bis skin to such a degree tha' that part of his tattooing which was not covei cd by the scanty lava lava of tappa cloth an iinci his loins had become almost black. Under the kind and careful treatment they received from Captain Elphinstor.e and his ollicere all three soon recovered, and ten uuye after they had been rescued, the following entry was made in the ship’s log. "This day we landed the three Sr moans at the island of Nufilole, one of the Swallow Group, where they were well received by the natives and a white trader. They were accompanied by one of my crew named Falaoa, who begged me to let him go with them, having become much, attached to one of the young women. They all behaved with ’the greatest propriety during their stay on the ship. From where they started in Samoa to where we picked them up in 12deg. S. is a distance of 1300 miles.” And here is their story, told by Sa l.uia to the wife of Frank Cheyne, a white trader then living in the Swallow Group. The four people remained in his bouse for many months as welcome guests, and a strong and lasting friendship was formed, which resulted in Cheyne, his wife arid family, and the Samoans, removing to the little island of Fenua-loa, and there founding what is now a colony of Polynesians, with language, customs, and mode of life generally, entirely distinct from their Melanesian neighbours.

1 am Sa Luia, of Mulifanua, in Samoa. My father was not only the chief of Mulifanua, but had great lands in the Atua district—lands which came to him through my mother, and from which he had his name, Pule-o-vai-tafe (Lord of many Rivers). Now-, it is not well for a daughter to speak unkindly of her father, but this, what I now say, is true. My father, though he was so rich a man, was very < ■ uel to those who crossed his path, and though he was a brave man in battle, his heart was shrunken up by reason of his avarice and his desire to grow’ richer, and all men spoke of him as Pule-lima-vale—“Pule the close-fisted,” or Pul ■ fat-i-ma’a— “Pule the stony --hearted.” Yet all this gave him no concern. “What does it matter to me?” he said to his brother Patiole one day, when Patiole, who was chief of Manono, reproached him for his meanness in sending away empty-handed some visitors from Tutuilu, "what people-say of me? What return u.n they’ make to me?” “They are thy dead wife’s relatives, and are of good blood,” said my uncle. My father laughed scornfully, “What

care I for my dead wife’s relatives! Let them go and eat grass or wild yams like P’ge. i Fuie-o-vaitafe, want no needy dependants.” “Thou art a hard man,” said my uncle. “And chon art a fool,” replied niv father. That was my father’s way. That was his hard, hard heart, which knew neither pity nor remorse. This is how my mother died: When I was seven days old, she to ik me to the tale siva (town dance house), v.hcre I had to be shown to the people, who biougii fine mats and tappa cl ith, and many other presents. Now my father was filed with anger that my mother ha<i not borne him a male child, for a male child would have meant richer presents. Sc when he saw that these were but the usual presents for a girl enrld, has lips turned down with scorn, and he muttered a curse. My mother heard him, and the tears flowed down her cheeks. “It may be that my next child will be a boy,” she whispered, and then she held me up to my father. “See, Pule, though a girl, she hath, thy features, and thou will come to love her.” “Tali!” said my father in angry’ contempt, and without another word he arose and went away. Then my mother wept silently over me for a long time, for the shame put upon her was very great, and not to be endured. So, with some of her women, she took me to a place called Falema’a, where the cliffs rise up straight from the sea. Here she made gifts of her rings of gold and tortoise-shell to her women, and bade them farewell. Then she took me in her arms, and leapt over the cliff into the sea. It so happened that half-way down the cliff, which is twelve fathoms high, there was a boy- named Manaia. He was collecting sea birds’ eggs, and his canoe was anchored just in front of the base of the cliff. He was a brave boy. and as he clung to the jagged face of the rock, he saw my’ mother falling through the air. In an instant he sprang after her. When she came to the surface I was still clasped tightly’ tn her arms, and Manaia cried to her to swim to the canoe“Nay.” she cried, “but take my babe.” And so Manaia took me. and my mother threw up her arms and sank and died. When my unde heard of this he came

over from Manono. and 1 was taken to live with him. My father did not interfere, for the manner of my mother's death had made the people murmur, and lie was afraid that they might rise in rebellion, and kill or banish him. But yet he soon tried to get another rich wife, and sent a deputation of his chiefs to Scu Mann of Apia asking lor his daughter Sina; and Sina sent him buck a piece of wood carved iu tne semblance of a woman, together with a stone shaped like a heart, with this message: “This is a good wife for Pule-o-Vuitafe. If she displeases him he can sink her in the sea with a heart of stone.” After that ray father sought no more for a wife. But in no other way uid he change, and he never came to see me till I was iu my fifteenth year, and when I was chosen by the people of Aana to be Taupot of Mulifanua. Then I had to leave my uncle, which made me weep, for although 1 was proud of the honour done me, I did not wish to leave him and go back to my father. But I had no choice but to obey, anil so I was taken back to Mulifanua, where I was put under the care of two women, who attended me day and night, as is the custom; they walked, ate. anil slept with me, and every day 1 was taught how to dance, and how to wear my fine mats and long train of tappa, so as to receive ot call upon visitors who eame i<> the town from other places in Samoa. In all the many’ years that I had spent cn Manono I hail not once seen the boy Manaia -though I had heard of him as naving been tattooed and grown into a tall man. But on the same day that 1 returned and was taken to the fale inupiile (council house) to be received by the people as their taupo, a girl i.ameil Selema who attenileil me whispered his name, and pointed him out to me. He was sitting with the other young men. and like them, dressed in his best, and carrying a musket and the long knife called nifa oti.f I saw that he was very, very tall and strong, and Selema toll! me that there were manv girls who desired him for a husband, though ho was very’ poor, and. It was known, was disliked by my father. Now this girl Selema. who was of my own age. was given to mo as my especial tavini (maid) and I grew to like her ns my own sister. She told me that already my father was casting about in mind for a rich husband for me. and that tile man be most favoured was old Tatiiavili, chief of Tufu, in Savai'i. who would soon be sending messengers wit h presents to him. All this frightened me. and I told Selema I would escape to my uncle in Manono. but she said that would not do. as if he tried to protect me it would mean war. So I said nothing more, but v Taupo, th ‘ town maid. 'Phis distinction is usually conferred on a girl of good fam ily. and has,many honours a-nd emoluments in the way of presents ■attached to it. In some eases a tau]io will not marry till she reaches middle age. and occasionally will •remain single. J The “death xnife’’—used only for tiecapitation.

resolved to run sway to the mountains rather than be made to marry Tamavili, who was a very old man. One day Selema and I went to the river to wash our hair with the pith of the wild oranges. We sat on the smooth atones near the water, and had just begun to beat the oranges with mallets of wood to soften them, when we saw a man come down the bank and enter a deep pool further up the stream. “ Tis Manaia,” said Selema; “he has come to drag the pool for fish.” Then she called out to him, “Ola! Manaia.” and he looked at us and laughed as he spun his small hand net into the pool. We sat and watched him, and admired his strength and skill and the clever way in which he dived and took the fish from his net. In a little while he had caught seven, and then he came out of the water, made a basKet of leaves, and approaching me. without a word, laid them at my feet. This pleased me. so 1 put out my hand and touched one of the fish —meaning that one only would I take.

“They are all for thee, lady,” he said in a low voice. I took the basket, and then when I saw that his eyes were still turned down, I gained courage and said:

“Thou art Manaia. Dost thou remeni ber me ?”

“ Tis an honour for me to think of thy name.” he replied, and then he raised his eyes to my face, and I felt glad, for they were like unto those of my uncle Patiole—kind and soft when they looked into those of a woman or child, but steady and bold to those of a man.

Now I know not what he said to me. except that when he spoke the name of Tamavili of Tufu I wept, and said that I was but a child, and had no desire to be wedded to any man. Then he lifted me up in his great arms and said. “I love thee. Sa Luia. I love thee! And I shall save thee from that old man as I saved thee from the boiling surf of Falema’a when thy mother, who was a great lady, cried out to me. ’Take my babe.’ ”

And that is how Manaia my husband wooed me.

So we made our plans, and when the messengers of Tamavili eame and laid their presents before me. I said I was content, and that in a month’s time I would be ready, and he, Tamavili. eould come for me. This pleased my father, and although at night time I always slept between the two women, as is customary for a taupo. with a mat over me. and they lay on the outside, one on each side, yet in the day time I often met my lover in the forest, whilst Selema kept watch.

“We shall go to Uea§,” he said. " 'tis but eighty leagues away, and so soon as the rainy season is ended we shall start. I have bought a small but good boat, and have strengthened it for the voyage with an outrigger, and in my mother’s house is hidden all the food we can carry.” One day there came a strange messenger to my father, who then bade th* conch be blown to summon the peopile together.

“Here is news. O people.” he said. “Manka (Monk) the white trader of Tufu also sedketh my daughter Sa Luia in marriage. He and Tamavili have quarrelled, and Manka sayeth that he will compete with Tamavili. Whatever he offers for dowry and for presents to me the white man will give double. This is a good dav for me.”

But the people were silent, for they knew that he was breaking his pledged word with Tamavili. and was setting at naught the honour of the town. So as he looked at them he scowled: then he held out his hand, on the palm of whieh were ten American gold coins, each of twenty dollars. “Two hundred dollars hath this white man Manka sent to my daughter Sa Luia as a present, with these words: 'lf she cares not for my suit, well and good—let her have them made into bracelets for her pretty arms.’ ” Now this was a great gift, and it came with such generous words that the people applauded, and my father smiled, as his long thin fingers dosed round the heap of gold; but suddenly his face darkened as a voice cried: “ Tis a free gift to Sa Luia. Therefore. O Pule-o-Vaitafe. give it to her.” “Aye. aye. ’tis hers, ’tis hers.” cried the people. t Wahis Island. 200 miles from Samoa Many Samoans fled there for refuee after a reverse In battle, or for other cause*.

My father sent a glance of bitter hatred to the man who had spoken, and his lips twitched, but withont a word he came to me. and bending low before me. put the money on the ground at my feet, and I heard his teeth grinding with rage, while as I felt his hot breath on my hand I knew that murder was in his heart. It is easy for a chief such as my father to have a man who displeases him killed secretly. So Pule went away in anger, and then the chiefs decided that although the white man eould not wed me. he should be received with great honour; for he was known to us as a man of great strength and daring, and was tattooed like a Samoan. whieh is a great thing to the mind of a Samoan woman, who loathes ap untattooed man. That night my father asked me for the money, which I gave him unwillingly. for I wished to send it back to the white man. He placed it in a great box. which contained such things as guns, pistols, and powder and ball, and the key of which he always wore around his neck.

When, after this, the eighth day dawned. the sea was very smooth, and my heart was gladdened by seeing that the wind was from the south-east- As night fell. Manaia. saying he was going to catch fish, launched his boat and sailed along the shore for a league to the mouth of a small stream. Here he waited for me. When the town was buried in slumber. Selema. who lay near me. touched mv head with her foot, and then asked me if I slept. “Nay,” I replied in a loud voice, and speaking with pretended anger, so as to awaken the two women between whom I lay. “how can T sleep? Tis too hot. Let us go to the beach awhile and feel the cool wind.” The two women grumbled a little at being disturbed, and Selema and I rose and went out of the house. Then we ran swiftly to the beach, and thence onwards to where Manaia awaited us. When the dawn broke we were half way across the straits which divide Savai’i from L'polu. and only two leagues away we saw the clustered houses of Tufu on the iron-bound coast. We did not dare to hoist the sail for fear of being seen, so continued to paddle, keeping well into the middle of the straits.

Presently Manaia looked astern, and there we saw the great mat sail of my father’s double canoe just rising above the water, and knew that we were pursued. So we ceased paddling, and hoisted our sail, whieh made us leap along very quickly over the seas, though every now and then the outrigger would lift itself out of the water, and we feared that we might capsize. But we knew that death was behind us. so we sat still, and no one spoke but in a whisper as we looked astern, and saw the sail of the great canoe growing higher and higher. It was a very large canoe, carrying a hundred men. and on the raised platform was a great cannon.

Suddenly Selema cried out that she saw a taumualua and a sailing boat coming to us from Tufu. and my heart sank within me. for I knew that if they saw we were pursued by Pule-o-Vaitafe. they would, out of respect for him. stop us from escaping. Still there was naught for us to do but to go on. and so we leapt and sprang from sea to sea. and Manaia bade us be of good heart, as he turned the head of the canoe toward the lano. “If this taumualua and the boat seek to stay us I shall run ashore.” he said.

"and shall take to the mountains. It is the white man’s boat, for now I

can see the flag from the peak—the flag of America.” “And the taumualua is that of Tamavili of Tufu.” said Selema quietly, fot she is a girl of great heart, “and it races with the boat.” I. who was shaking with fear, cannot now well remember all that followed, but suddenly Manka’s boat was upon us. and Manka was laughing loudly. "Ho. ho.” he cried, pulling his long white moustache, “so this is the way the wind bloweth. The old dotard Tamavili and I race together for a bride, and the oride is for neither of us. Ha. ha! Thou art a fine fellow. Manaia. and I bear thee no ill will, even though the girl hath my good golden money.” "'Nay. Manka,” cried Selema. quicklv. and taking something from her girdle she held it up to the white man. “see. I A large native-built boat.

here is thy gift to Sa Luia. We meant to bring it back to thee with all good will, for St. Luia loves no man but Manaia. who held her up from the angrv sea when her mother died.” "Is this true?” asked the white man of Manaia.

’’The money is thine,” said Manaia. who knew not what else to say. “but the woman is mine. So let us depart, for Tamavili and his men —who no one in Mulifanua thought to see for three days yet —are drawing near, and we mav escape by running the canoe through the surf, and taking to the mountains.” The white man swore an oath. “Thou art a fine fellow, and I bear thee no ill will, but shall help thee to outwit that old dodderer, who tried to steal away three days before me. I will put my boat between he and thee and keep him off. Where wouldst land?”

“Not here, unless we are. pressed. But we are in bad case, for see, on the one side comes Pule-o-Vaitafe. and on the other Tamavili. Yet if thou will be the good friend to us we may escape both, and keep on our way to the open sea.” “The open sea?” cried Manka quicklv. “and whither to?” “To Tea.”

"Thou are a bold fellow.” said the white man again, “and shalt have the girl, for thou art worthy of her. And she shall keep the money for dowry. As for Pule-o-Vaitafe, I care not a blade of grass, and for Tamavili even less. And see, take this rifle: and if Tamavili cometh too elose to thee, how can I help thee defending thyself and the women?” With that he gave Manaia one of the six rifles in his boat and fifty cartridges: then he wished us good fortune, and we parted, he sailing towards the taumualua, which was crowded with men. and we following. - tv hen he came within speaking distance of Tamavali, he again brought his boat to the wind and mocked at the old chief.

“Ho. ho. Tamavali. Whither goest thou in sueh a hurry? See. there is the little bird we both sought. But she is neither for me nor thee. Is not her lover there a fine man—nearly as handsome as I. and big enough to make ten such rats as thee.”

Tamavali was mad with rage, and did not answer. There were with the whit, man six men —all armed with rifles, and Manka was too great a man for even Tamavili to hurt. But suddenly as we in the canoe sailed in between the boat and the taumualua, the old chief found his voice, and called out to Manaia to lower his sail. “Give me the lady Sa Luia,” he cried, “and I will let thee and the girl Selema go,” and as he spoke his crew turned the taumualua round and came after us twenty men paddling on each side. “Keep back!” cried Manaia fiercely, as giving me the steering paddle, he took up the rifle and loaded it. “Beware, old man!” shouted the white man. “ ’tis a dog that bites’” But Tamavili was too hot with anger to take heed, and urged on his men Then Manaia took aim and fired, and down went two men. "Ho, ho!” and Manka’s voice again mocked, “did I not sav ’twas a doe that bit?” ‘ S Then there was a great commotion in the taumualua. but Tamavili shouted encouragement to his people; he would have ordered some of them to try and shoot Manaia. but feared to hurt or perhaps kill me. “Alo, alo foe?!” he cried, standing up on the stern, and brandishing his deathknife at Manaia. “I shall give thv head to the children of the village for a football ere the sun is in mid-heaven.” That was a foolish boast, for once more Manaia knelt and fired, and I saw the blood spurt from Tamavili’s naked chest as he fell down without a sound among the paddlers. and a loud cry of anger and sorrow burst from his men. But in a moment a young sub-chief of Tufu named Lau Aula (the Goldenhaired) took command, and leaping to the bow. he began firing at us. one of the bullets striking the girl Selema on the leg and tearing a hole through the fleshy part. Now this man was a blood relative of Manaia. who called out to him to cease firing, but he took no heed.

r Paddle, paddle hard!

Then Manaia’s face was evil to look at, his lips were drawn back, and his teeth showed like those of an angry dog, for the blood which flowed from Selema's wound was creeping around his naked feet. Yet once more he cried out to Lau Aula to beware ere it was too late; but the young chief called him a thief, and bade him bring the boat to the wind. "This for thee, then,” cried Manaia. and onee more he raised his rifle and tired, while Lau Aula spun round and fell over into the sea, for the bullet had struck him in the throat and his life was gone.

That was the last of the fight, for when Lan Aula fell the rest of Tamavili’s men threw down their paddles and let us sail on without further pursuit.

Then Whilst I steered Manaia tied strips of tappa around Selema’s leg so as to stay the bleeding. "We are safe,” cried the girl bravely through her tears, for the pain was very great. “See, lady, the wind is not strong enough for the big double canoe to pursue us.” But yet in his rage, when my father saw that we were escaping, he lowered the mat sail and fired two shots at us with the cannon, the great heavy balls soaring over our heads and plunging into the sea with a splash not fifty fathoms away. Then he troubled us no more.

For four days wt sailed steadily onwards. and Selema’s wound began to heal. Then one evening we saw the land Lea, just showing above the sea rim. and thought to place our feet on ths shore in the morning. But now came sorrow, for in the night it began to blow strongly from the north-east, and heavy rain squalls drove us past the land. In the morning there was but the open sea, and the waves were white and angry, and all that day and the next Manaia kept the boat to the wind, hoping that it would change and let us bs»ek to L’ea. But we hoped vainly. Tnex there came ?uch a furious storm that we could do naught but drive before it, and go on and on into the great unknown western ocean, whither so many have gone and have been no more known of men. For many, many days we sailed on, and then, although we had muc-h rain and s« .suffered no thirst, our food began to fail, and had not Manaia one day caught a sleeping turtle we should have perished. Some time about the fourteenth day we saw the jagged peaks of an island against the sky, and steered for it. It was the land called Rctmr.ah—a fine, fair country, with moirauics and valleys. and running streams. We sailed the boat into a bay on which stood a village of many houses, and the people made us welcome, and besought us to stay there, for their island was, they said, a better place than L’ea. And this we should have done and been content. but in the night, as I slept in the house of the unmarried women a girl whispered in my ear: . "Get thee away. Felipa. the head chief of Fao, hath been told of thy beauty, and hath sent word here that the man Manaia must be killed tonight. and thou and Selema be sent to him.”

So we stole away to the boat, pushed off. and stood out to the sea once more. The people had told us to go round to the north end of the island, where there was a chief named Loli, who would protect ns. and give us a home. But again evil fortune befell us, for the chief of Fao sent a messenger overland to Loli. claiming us as mea tafea i moano—“gifts sent to him by the sea” and asking him to hold us for him. And so Loli, who would have welcomed us, was afraid, and begged us not to land an j tring about bloodshed.

’ Great is my sorrow, O wanderers,’’ be cried to us, “but ye must not land. ..teer to the west, where there is a great land—many, many islands wvich •send norfli and south (the New Hebredis group).” "Is it far?” asked Manaia. • Tciir days for a ship. longer for a boat, replied Loli, shamefacedly. ''‘The gees go with thee, farewell.” Once again we sailed towards the setting sun, steering by the stars at night time, and for seven days all went well. Then after that there came calms, and tne hot sun beat upon us and ate its way into our hearts, and we saw no d'j ll ’ an while only now and then J, con>e near us. Then came ’ tlm * when all our food was gone, Bhd we waited for death. Manaia had

eaten no food for many days when it came to this—for he said he was feeling quite strong, and divided his share between us. Once as he and I slept Selema put a little piece of old coeoanut —the last that was left —into my hand, and slipped over the side to die, but Manaia heard her. and although he was very weak, he roused and caught her as she sank.

One night Manaia shot a small shark which was following the boat. It was but three spans long, yet it kept us alive. Manaia gave us all the flesh, and kept only the head and skin for himself; after that all the world became dark to me, and we lay together in the boat to die.

The captain of the ■rhaleship was very kind to us. and said he would land us all here at Nufilole. where there was a white man who would be kiud to us. That is all; and now my husband Manaia and I, and Falaoa and his wife Selema are well content to live here always. For even now after many months have passed do Selema and I cry out in our slumbers, and when we awaken our hair lies wet upon our foreheads; but all those bad dreams are passing away from us for ever.