LOTA.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIV, Issue 21, 27 May 1905, Page 55

LOTA.

(By

Josie Scrivener.)

Captain Winter impatiently pawed the bridge of the Sea Foam, a well-known and favourite Island trader. He was very angry, and with very good reason. Wharf labourers had ceased work in obedience to the decree of their union. So the Sea Foam awaited events, as idle? as any "painted ship upon a painted ocean,’ and I’.er, cargo lumbered the wharf instead of being safely stowed. This delay was maddening to the captain, who in the ordinary course of events should have been half way to New’ Guinea. Occasionally he relieved his fadings by shaking bis clenched fist at the mass meeting of the strikers; just without the ga-tys» "To be kept dangling here.” lie cried, with a loud voice, "waiting the pleasure of a parcel of fools who don’t know wl on they're well off.” The sympathetic mate nodded assent. Then after another trying interval, he eyed the piled up cargo that mocked him from the wharf. “If they don’t begin loading to-mor-row, we’ll do it ourselves," he exclaimed with the utmost determination. The mate looked resigned, though by no means cheerful. “That tall chap is trying to make the peace,” the mate said, nodding at the leader, who, mounted on high, in the midst of the crown, harangued his followers, and looked from a little distance like a spasmodic Jack-in-the-box. "Is he, indeed,” jeered the captain, ironically, "I’d like io drop him and a few others outside the Heads,” with savage relish. Lota, the captain’s 12-year-old,daugh-ter. hardly- knew Tier father these days, so unlike? himself, though to Lota he was always kind. She was his constant companion from the sad day her mother fell a victim to malarial fever. Lota was only a tiny child then, and had no memories of any life or home other than that of the Sea Foam. How keenly she had anticipated tlio delights of Sydney—her disappointment was sore, inde.d. The happy faced New’ Guinea boys alone took matters calmly, and laughed and frisked like children. “Now, who on earth is this?” ejaculated the mate, directing general attention to a young clergyman who thread cd a way along the cargo-bestrewn wharf. The mate scanned the visitor with a keen discretion. “Well, who do yon think he is?” he cried at last. “I’m in no mood for visitors!” snapped the captain, sourly. “It’s the sick missionary you picked up at New Guinea two years ago,” continued the mat'', with satisfied conviction. The captain in his turn made a hasty scrutiny. “Well. now. you’re right,” he agre d, hastening to the gangway to meet his visitor with the heartiest of welcomes. "Who’d have thought to ?>-?e you. sir, so string and set up. and not the life of a rabbit in you win n we parted,'’ he cried. "True, indeed.” returned Mr. Holmes, delighted with the warmth of the captain's greeting. Indeed, the kiml-beart id captain could hardly make inough of him. "It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good,” laughed the clergyman. “But for the strike. I'd have missed you,” as 1 only returned to Sydney yesterday. Lota will be delighted to see you again.” Captain Winter said, leading the way to his cabin. faita was delighted. It was no effort to her to r< iKi'Uibi r Mr. Holmes, for he had been an event in lief young life. She had a vivid recollection of the Sen Foam’s visit to Bartie Bay. and of the burdeH the native bean‘is brought on laianl. the fever ruckl'd, almost spent wreck of a missionary, this same young clergyman, so desperately ill that his

only Stope* of life- lay in that voyage from the iiihospitabl? shores >of New Uu’n*a. Ami the missionary x remembered—could ho vere forget?—the slow Lours of a lingering convalescence when this gentle dark-eyd little maiden was a ministering angel indeed; the cool delicious fruit drinks she made him, the gentle little hands that soothed when all else was unb?arabk*. “Yes, thank God, I am now better.” lie said in answer to their inquiries, “the last bout of agu? is quite a year old.” Two dark, smiling faces peered round the door. “Two of your boys, Bumbala and Peter,” the captain explained, permitting them to enter. The boys literally foil upon their old teacher, kissed ami fondled him rather more than he cared for, until the captain ordered them off. Lota showed him a var’ed collection uf treasures, spoils of the sea and many a native tribe, and a few photographs. “My little nephew,” he exclaimed. taking up the photo, of a bonny small boy with fair curls, dressed in a sailor suit of white. “Your sister sent that to Lota.” the captain explained. “\Ve found it awaiting us on our next visit to the mission station. It created a sensation among the boys and girls; they wanted to rub their noses on him- The old men, too, could not comprehend such a' sweet little fellow. But Lota remembers what, they said.” The captain took a fond pride in his little girl’s proficiency in the native tongue. Lota shyly continued the narrative. “They held up their hands,’’ she told thein, “and made a sound like ‘ah me.’ The missionary told them it was a picture of your tavera (nephew), and they said. ‘Dim dim abaruna aiai ma,’ the little foreign sailor boys is very good man limes. But we had to hide the photo. from them, they kept wanting to see it,” concluded Lota. Mr Holmes laughed and sighed. How easy to conjure up the seem*, and those happy affectionate coast natives. “Ah. well! Now Captain. I want you and Lota to make my ‘tavern’s’ acquaintance. Half an hour’s journey will take us to my sister's house, . rhe little ones are having a grand party, so Lota will have some fun, and my people.are most anxious to meet my kind, good friends ” Lota’s eyes Hashed with joy—a party was something unknown, but it sounded nice. “WeJl. I can do him no good here, that is certain,” the Captain agreed. “So put on your prettiest frock. Lola, and J *ll go.” Lola donned her best, and soft creamy silk and glowing red sash, with just a little misgiving. Mr Holmes assured her that other little girls of her own age were to be at the party. Her eventful young life had not included girl friends. Here on the Sea Foam she was quite at home; the five merry Papuan boys her devoted slaves. She had brightened their lives, and taught them to read ami sing their tables to nine times and several pretty hymns. The little girls were foreigners indeed. The happy band of children at the Cedars regarded her curiously. Lota’s bright sun-browned complexion and dusky hair, well set off by her dress and v’vid coral ornaments, her serious staid little manners claimed their earnest attention. Indeed, rather more so than was

quite polite, for poor l«ota began to feel not only nervous and ill at case, luit a hitlieito unknown sftyiivss. She liked Mary, Mrs Holmes' niece, and felt at east; with her- Most every body did. Mary was taller, and perhaps a year older than Lota. She gave herself no airs, and her sweet winsome face brained kindly upon all. To Lota she was a haven of refuge from all those strange, unfi rndly-look-ing girls, who stared her out of countenance, and made audible remarks about her dress and appearance. But Mary was the little hostess; and being so she took Lola around to each of her friends. Poor scarlet faced Lota would have found it easier to follow Bumbala up the rigging. I hese young ladies, some younger than herself, were perfectly self possessed, made little curtesies, ami murmurd greetings exactly as their mammas would have done. But Lota, alas, was quite at sea! “What a little heathen!” one young lady said. "One of the miss.h n converts, I suppose.” Unfortunate ly Lota heard, ami thereafter she was miserable. For there was no escape for her. The captain. after kissing all the little girls, and joking with the bigger ones, had gone into another room with the elders: and Mr Holmes, satisfied that children T»ere best left to themselves, speed ly followed him. So. humbled ami quivering with pain, Lota snuggled into an out of the way corner, determined there to remain until her father came for her. Here sin* was joined by the “tavera.” no longer quite the baby boy of the photo. lie was a friendly little lad, ami Lota and he had a most interesting conversation. One game followed another, but despite ihe r entreaties to join in. Lota stayed in her corner, an interested observer. The girls ‘sang and played and recited. "W ill you sing for us, Lota?” • “No!” Lota said she could not sing. “Um-le said you knew the Bab ballads oil* by heart, Lota,’ ; Mary pleaded: “so you will recite just a little for .us?” But Lota had just listened to a pretty little girl recite “Barbara Frei t chip” with such dramatie effect that she felt more than ever insignificant. “How clever she is,” her thoughts run; “and 1 can do nothing.” I'he returned missionary could have told a different tale. So they left her alone, ami many thought her stupid and ill bred. .Just when (he merriment and fun were highest Mary had two chosen friends disappeared behind (he great curtains that shut oil* one end of the room. “Tavera” whispered to Lota that those curtains held the surprise of the evening. They were hastily improvised drop scenes,

much 100 long, but still serving the purpose very well. The two friends were soon back, and proceeded to turn the gas jets very low, almost out. Then to the delighted astonishment of hushed, expectant children, the great curtains were carefully drawn aside—to disclose a dazzling sight—an enchanting gift tree, sparkling with fantasticglobes and coloured lights, gay with lanterns, loaded with treasures and pretty gifts enough for all.

And a most eharming fairy, glittering, pure white like snow, waited beside the tree to distribute its bounties. Pretty Mary, no less, thus radiantly transformed in cotton wool and powdered glass. Great was the enthusiastic applause and delight. Each little maiden -there and then resolved to have a party, and shine as a cotton wool fairy as soon as possible. The gifts were nearly all distributed when of a sudden a dreadful thing hap pened.

A little fairy light fell at the fairy’s feet. In a second’s brief space a sheet of flame sprang up. a flame that engulfed the pretty sparkling fairy. An awful cry rent the aii\ Startled, dazed children ran hither and thither, scared and screaming at the awful sight. Lota alone kept her wits. With a bound she seized poor Mary ere she could fol low the fleeing chihlren, and though a smaller child pushed the burning, struggling girl into the great curtains, much too long ami awkward as a drop scene, but just the thing to crush out Hames. She throw her among the ponderous

folds with such amazing stn-ngth that the curtains camo down with a crash, well nigh smothering p»»«»r. burnt fairy and her be<t friend. Many hands dragged them out. und all was confusion. And afterwards well, jxior Mar\ had some days of pain, and will bear some cruel scars for the rest of her days, but she knows that she owes her recovor\ and life to the little girl who could not shine in the drawing-room perhaps. Imt who could and did excel at the supreme moment, and did just the right thing.