Wild Waters: A Tale of the Pacific Isles

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 14, 7 April 1906, Page 10

Wild Waters: A Tale of the Pacific Isles

By

Lloyd Osbourne

Author of “ Love, the Fiddler,” Etc.

THINGS had been dull in Apia before the arrival of Captain Satterlee in the “Southern Belle.’’ Not business alone, which was, of course, only to be expected •—what with the civil war being just over and the kanakas driven to eat their eocoanuts instead of selling them to traders in the form of eoprah—-but socially speaking the little capital of the Somoan group had been next door to dead. Picnics had been few; a heavy dust had settled on the floor of the Public Hall—a galvahized-iron barn ■which social leaders could rent for six Chile dollars a night, lights included; the butcher's wedding, contrary to all expectation, had been strictly private, and might almost have slipped by unnoticed had it not been for a friendly editorial in the "Samoa Weekly Times”; and with the exception of an auction, a funeral, and a billiard tournament at the International Hotel, a general lethargy had overtaken Apia and the handful of Whites who had made it their home. As Mr. Skiddy, the boyish American Consul, expressed himself: "You can’t get anybody to do anything these days!” Possibly this long spell of monotony contributed to Captain Satterlee’s pronounced and instant success. The topsails of the “Southern Belle” had hardly more than appeared over the horizon when people began to wake up and realize that stagnation had too long, held them in its thrall, Satterlee was not at all the ordinary kind of sea-cap-tain to which the Beach (as Apia always alluded to itself) was more than well acquainted. Gin had no attractions for Captain nor did he surround himself - with dusky impropriety. He played a straight social game and lived up to the rules, even to party calls and finger-bowls on his cabin table. He was a tall, thin American of about forty-five, with floor-walker manners, greyish mutton-chop whiskers and a roving eye. The general verdict of Apia was that he was “very superior.” His superiority was apparent in his gentlemanly baldness, his openwork socks, his well-turned references to current events, his kindly and indulgent attitude towards all things Sa, moan. He deplored the rivalry of the' three contending nationalities, German, English and American, whose official representatives quarrelled fiercely amongst themselves and mismanaged the affairs of this unfortunate little •South Sea kingdom, and whose unofficial representatives, sold guns and cartridges indiscriminately to the warring native factions. Satterlee let it be inferred that the role of peacemaker hail informally settled upon himself. “We ought to try and pull together,” he would say, his bland tf>lerance'*falling like balm from heaven; and he would clinch the remark by passing round forty-cent. cigars.

'1 he "Southern Helle” was a showy little vessel of about ninety tons, with the usual trade-room in” tfrfe after part of the ship, where the",captain himself would wait on you behind a counter, anil sell yon anything from a bottle of trade scent to a keg of dynamite. He never was so charming as when engag-

ed in this exchange of commodities for coin, and it accorded so piquantlv with his evident superiority that the purchaser had a pleasant sense of doing business with a gentleman. “Of course. I might run her as - yacht, ami play the heavy swell,” he would remark. “But candidly, I like this kind of thing; it puts me on a level with the others, you know; and then it's bandy for buying supplies, and keeping one in touch with the people!” With this he would give you such a warming smile, and perhaps throw in free a liandful of fish-hooks, or a packet of safety-matches, or a tooth-brush. Indeed, apart from, this invariable prodigality, his scale of prices was ridiculously low, and if you were a lady yon could buy out the ship at half price. As for young Skiddy, the American Consul, the bars in his case were lowered even more, and he was just asked to help himself—which young Skiddy did, though sparingly. Captain Satterlee took an immense fancy to this youthful representative of their,, common eoui; try, and treated him with an engaging mixture of respect and paternalism; and Skiddy, not to be behindhand, and dazzled besides by his elder’s marked regard and friendship, threw wide the consular door, and constantly pressed on Satterlee the hospitality of a cot on the back verandah. The captain professed to find it remarkable—which, indeed, it was—that a boy of twenty-six should have been entrusted with the welfare of so considerable a section of Samoa's white population. The roll of the consulate bore the names .of thirty-eight Americans—not to speak of the thirty-ninth who was . soon expected—over whom the young consul possessed extraordinary powers withheld from far higher posts in far more important countries. Young Skiddy, on a modest salary of two hundred dollars a month and a, house rent-free, was supposed, if need be. to marry you. divorce you try you for crimes and misdemeanours, and in extreme cases might even dangle you from the flagstaff in his front yard. He had been very seldom called upon, however, to use these extensive powers.

'-Jn three years be had married as many couples, helped to baptise a half-caste baby, held an inquest on a dead, sailor, bullied a Samoan army off his front grassland had settled a disputed inheritance involving five acres of cocoanuts. This, of course, left him with some spare time on his hands, which on the whole he managed to get through with very tolerable enjoyment. " But until the date of Captain Satterlee’s arrival he had never had a friend—or at least so it seemed to him now in the retro-

spect. His official colleagues were out of the question—the stand-offish Englishman, the sullen German, the grotesque Swede who held the highest judicial office. No, there was not tho

little finger of a friend in the whole galaxy. And elsewhere? Not a soul to whom one could give intimacy'without the danger, almost, the certainty, ol its being abused. No wonder, then, that he turned lo Satterlee, and grasped the hand of fellowship so warmly extended to him. The little consul 1..-. J never known such a man; he had never heard such talk; he had never before realised tho extent and splendour of the world. Sitting in the cabin of the “Southern Belle,” often far into the night, ho would give a rapt attention to this extraordinary being who had done every-

thing and seen everything. Paris, London, Constantinople, New York—all were as familiar to Satterlee as the palm of his hand, and he had the storytelling gift that can throw a glamour over the humblest incident. Not that his incidents were often humble. On the contrary,, ia his mysterious, suggestive fashion, he let it be inferred that his bygone part had been a great one. He would offer darling little peeps, and then shut the slide; a ehanee reference that wcvdd make his hearer gasp; the adroit use of a mighty name, checked by a sudden: “Oh, hold on, I'm saying more than I ought to!” You felt somehow that to have roused the interest of this wonderful pt-rsonagc was to insure your own career. With a turn of his hand he was capable of gratifying your wildest ambition, He had remarked your unusual capacity, and had quietly determined it should be given proper scope. When and where and how were to be settled later. These questions you left confidently Satterlee. It was enough that you were informed, in those fine shades of which he was a master, that your day would surely eome. On leaving Satterlee you

walked on air without knowing exactly; why—or rather Skiddy did—for by “you” 1 mean the little consul. It is a sad commentary on human nature that it is so easily deceived. A glib tongue, an attractive manner, a few hundred dollars thrown carelessly about —and presto! you have the counterfeit of a Ceeil Rhodes! We are not only willing to take people at their own valuation, but are ever ready to multiply that valuation by ten. Obtuide romance—rich, palpitating romance—into the lives of commonplace people, and they instantly lose their heads. Romance more than cupidity is what attracts the gold-brick investor. Of course Satterlee was a poser, a fraud, a liar; the highest type of liar;' the day-dreaming, well-read, genuinely inventive, highly imaginative, loving-it-for-its-own-sake liar. But to Skiddy every word he sard was Gospel-true. He never doubled the captain for an instant. Life grew richer to him, stranger and more wonderful. It was like a personal distinction—a medal or the thanks or Congress—that Satterlee should thus have singled him out. His gratitude was unbounded. He felt both humble and elated. His cup was brimming over. Let not his credulity be counted against him. After all, lie was not the only admirer of the captain. Did he not see Satterlee lionized by the Chief Justice and the rest of his brother officials; publicly honoured by the head of the great German company; called to the bosom of both the missionary denominations? Was not all Apia, in fact, regardless of sex, creed, or nationality, acclaiming Satterlee to the skies, and vying amongst themselves for the privilege of entertaining him? Never, indeed, were there so many picnics, so many parties, such a constant

•accession of dances at the Public Hall. Even the King was galvanized into action, and to the surprise of every one gave a sort of At Home, where Satterlee was the guest of honour and received the second kava cup. A half-caste couple, who before had barely held up their heads, sprang into social prominence by getting married under the direct patronage of the popular captain, and thus rallying to their visiting list all .the rank, fashion, and beauty o- Apia. It was a delirious month. There was an event for almost every night of it. The strain on the half-caste band was something awful. Miss Potter’s millinery establishment worked night and diy. Of a morning you couldn't find a lady on the front veranda who wasn't stitching and sewing and basting and cutting out. And the men! Why, in the social whirl few of them had time to sober up, and the sale of Leonard’s soda-water was unprecedented. As the time began to draw near for the monthly mail from San Francisco, Satterlee got restless and talked regretfully of leaving. He gave a great bargain day on board the "Southern Belle,” where sandwiches and bottled beer were served to all comers, and goods changed hands at astonishing prices; coal-oil e.t one-seventy-five a ease; hundred wound kegs of beef at four dollars; turkey-red cotton at Six cents a yard; r;q uare-faee at thirty cents a bottle; and similar cuts in all the standard commodities. There was no Customs House in those, days, and you were free o carry everything ashore unchallenged. A matter of eighty tons must have been anded all round the beach; and the pandemonium at the gangway, the crush and jostle in the trade-room, and the steady hoisting out of fresh merchandise from the main-hold made a very passable South Sea imitation of a New York department store. At any rate there was the same loss of temper, the same harassed expression oh the faces of the purchasers, and the same difficulty in getting change. As like as not you had to take it—the change —in the form of jews’-harps, Bcrew-eyes, or anything small and handy that happened to be near by.

It was the most lightning performance Apia hail ever witnessed, and the captain carried it oft in a brisk, smiling way as though it was the best joke in the world and he was only doing it all for fun. Unfortunate captain! Unhappy destiny that brought in the mail cutter two days ahead of schedule! Thrice unlucky popularity that found thee basking in the sunshine of woman’s favour instead of on thv four-inch deck! The pilot signalled the mail; Skiddy put forth in his consular boat, intercepting the cutter in the pass, and receiving (on his head) his own especial government bag. The proximity of the ‘•Southern Belle” and the likelihood of Satterlee being at home caused Skiddy to board the ship, and open the bag on her quarter-deck. One stout, blue, and important-looking envelope at once caught his eye. He opened the stout, blue, and important-looking letter, and There were no white men in the crew of the “Southern Belle.” They were all llotumah boys with the exception of Ah Foy, the Chinese cook. This amiable individual was singing over his pots and pans when he was suddenly startled by the apparition of Skiddy at the galley doc*.'. The little consul was deathly pale, and there was -something fierce and authoritative in his look. "Come out of here,” he said abruptly. "I want to talk to you! ’ The Chinaman followed him aft. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming. That was why he was sewn up with two hundred dollars in hard cash, together with a twenty dollar bill under his left heel. He began to cry. and in live minutes had blurted out the whole thing. Self-preservation is the first law, and ne had besides some dim conception of State's evidence. Skiddy made 'the conception clearer, and promised him immunity if he would make a clean breast of it. This the Chinaman forthwith did in his laborious pigeon. A good part of it was incomprehensible, but he established certain main facts, and confirmed the

stout, blue, important-looking letter. As Satterlee eame off on a shore-boat, pulling like mad, and then darted up the ladder in a sweat of apprehension, he was met at the top by Skiddy—not Skiddy the friend—but Skiddy the arm of the law, Skiddy the retributive. Skiddy, the world's avenger, with Scniko. his towering cox, standing square behind him. "Jehu Forster,” he said, "alias Satterlec, I arrest you in the name of the United States, on the charge of having committed the crime of barratry, and warn you that anything you say now may be hereafter used against you!” It was a horrible thing to say—to be forced to say —and ’to sense of public duty could make it less than detest able. Skiddy almost whispered out the words. The brutality of them appalled him. Remember, this was his friend, his hero, the mini whose intimacy an hour before had been everything to him. Satterlee gave him a quick, blank, panicky look, and then, with a pitiful bravado, took a step forward with an attempted return to his usual confident air. lie p-'-fessed to ''e dumbfounded at the accusation; he was the victim of a dreadful mistake; he tried, wi.li a ghastly smile, to reassert his old dominion, calling Skiddy “old man" and "old ehap” in a shaky, fawning voice, and wanting to take him below "lo talk it over.” But the little consul was adamantine. The law must take its course. He was sorry, terribly sorry, but as an officer of the United States he had to do his duty. Satterlee preceded him into the boat. The consul followed and took the yoke lines. They were both dejected, and neither dared to meet the other's eyes. It was a mournful pull ashore, and tragic in the retrospect. A silence lay between them as heavy as lead. The crew, conscious of the captain's humiliation. though they knew not the cause, felt also constrained to a deep solemnity. Yes. a funeral pull, and it was a relief to every one when at last they grounded in the shingle off the consulate. Skiddy had a busy day of it. Leaving

the captain at the consulate under guard, and sending off Asi. the chief of Vaiala, together with ten warriors armed with rides and axes to take charge of the "Southern Belle” and her crew, he walked into Apia tn make arrangements to meet the painful situation. Single-handed he had to rear the structure of a whole judicial system, including United States' marshals, a clerk of court, four a.sessor judges, and a jail. His first, steps were directed towards a little cottage on the Motootua Road, the residence of Mr. Scoville Purely, a goaty, elderly, unwashed individual who formed the more respectable half of the Samoan bar. Mr. Purdy was forthwith retained by tile United States Government, and the papers of the ease left in his hands. Sk’ddy next sought out Mr. Timelier, the other half of the bar. and directed him to defend the prisoner. Then he bent his mind to the consideration of jails, of which Samoa boasted two. The municipal jail was a two-roomed wooden shed, sparingly furnished with a couple of tin pails. Humanity forbidding the incarceration of Captain Satterlee in such a hovel, the little consul passed on to Mulinuu. where the geneial Samoan Government held sway, the jail here was on a more pretentious scaie. It consisted of a rectangular enclosure, perhaps sixty feet, by forty, formed by four eight-foot walls of galvanised iron, and containing within five or six small hots of Ihe kind that, shipwrecked seamen might build on a desert island. In fact that was just about what they were, amt as foul and repulsive as the real article. Owing to financial stringency the Samoan Government was unable to house or feed its prisoners, who. for both those reasons, might well be described as castaways. These unfortunates were absent at tho time of Skiddy’s visit, employing a very languid leisure on tile improvement of the roads; and the consul could not have penetrated the jail at all had it. not been for the King, who, on appealed to, was obliging enough to lead the diplomat his spare key. Skid-

dy stood and regarded thr place with an immense depression. It would not do at all. It was no better than a cattle pen. He was about to turn away when the two Sean'.ons appeared on the Scene their keen nose-, having scented out a job. The Scanlons were burly liali <a-lc>. of a muddy. sweaty complexion. vv liom trustworthiness and intelligence wen- distinctly above 1 he average. The Scanlon brother-, to any out* in a difficult position, could be relied upon as pillars of strength. There was nothing a Scanlon brother wouldn’t do—and do well - for two dollars and fifty cents, n day. Mind and muscle were both yours—Scanlon mind and muscle-—for this paltry and insignificant sum: anti the consul, in a quandary, welcomed the stout, bristly-haired pair ’as though they were angels from heaven. In le-s time than it takes to write, Allred Scanlon was appointed a United States’ marshal. Charles Scanlon, an assistant United Slates’ marshal, and thr arrangement was made with them to take full charge of Captain Satterlee during the trial, lie was to live in their cottage, have Lis meals served from the 1 nternational Hotel. and while carefully guarded night ami day, was to he treated “first-class” throughout. “The Jaw of the United States,*’ boomed out little Skiddy. “assumes that a prisoner is innocent until he is actually convicted. I want both of you to remember t hat!” The Scanlon’s didn’t understand a. Word of what hr said, but they saluted and looked very much impres-ed. When you bought a Scanlon you got a lot for your money, including a profound gravity when you addressed him. It was the Scanlon way of recognising that, you were paying, and the Scanlon receiving, two dollars and fifty cents a day! At the head of his two satellites, who kept pace respectfully behind him. Skiddv next directed himself to find Dillon, Dillon was a variety of white Scanlon, though of an infinitely lower human type, who kept a tiny store and cobbled shoes near the Midi vac bridge; and who, from sonic assumed knowledge of legal procedure, invariably acted as Ulerk ot the Court —any court—American. English, or the Samoan llit r h. Nou associated bis heavy, bloated, grog-blossomed face and black-dyed whiskers as an inevitable pa it of the course of justice. It was his custom to take longhand notes of all court procceilings, as, of course, stenographers were unknown in Apia: and at times it would seem as though all Samoan justice boiled down to dictating Dillon. As a witness you never looked at the judge: you looked at Dillon, and wondered whether ho was taking v ou down right. A careful witness always went slow ly, and used the words that Dillon was likely to understand. Dillon having been found and engaged, the next procedure was to appoint the assessor judges, of whom the Consular Instructor insisted on their being four. 'This weighty matter s.'omcd to require the co-operation of the viceconsul, Mr. Beaver, a highly respected quack doctor, whose principal nostrum, was faith cure plus hot water. After arguing away your existence, Which he a I wavs could do with extraor-

dinary fluency, he would plunge you into a boiling bath till your imaginary skin turned a deep imaginaiy scarlet, and then send you home with some microscopic (loses of aconite. The best that could be said of him was that he never really harmed anybody, scalded the poor for nothing, and was willing (and even pressing) to turn over serious cases to the regular practitioner, Dr. Funk. There were twenty-seven American citizens on the consular roll of male sex, sound mind, and above twenty-one years of age. Four of them lived far froiriat of age. Four of them lived far from Apia, and were therefore unavailable. Two more, as known deserters from the United States navy, were considered unworthy of the judgment seat. Forged or suspected naturalisation papers threw’ out another live. This reduced the residuum to sixteen, whose names were written <>n slips of paper, thrown into a pith helmet, and’ tumbled together. ’The first four withdrawn constituted the assessor judges, who were at once warned by messenger to be in attendance at tlie consulate at ten the next morning, or be punished for contempt . What a stir was made in the little town as the news went round! Satterlee, the cherished, the entertained, the eagerly sought after —-Satterlee had been discovered to be a pirate! The “Southern Belle’’ was no “Southern Belle” at a IL but the James H. Peabody!” He had shipped as supercargo, putting in a thousand dollars of his own to lull Mr. Crawford’s suspicions, and then had marooned the captain and mate on Ebon Island. and levanted with the ship! Heavens, what cackle, what excitement, what a furious How of beer in every saloon along the beach! Jt was rumoured that the great bargain-duy sales might be cancelled —that the goods might have to be returned —that not a penny of compensation would be paid to the unlucky purchasers. Then what a rubbing oft’ of marks took place, what a breaking up of tell-tale cases, what a soaking off of tags! The whole eighty tons disappeared like magic, and you could not find a soul who would even confess to a packet of pins’ The trial took |*lace in t he large officeroom of the consulate. The big front doors stood open to the sea. where a mile away the breakers tossed and tumbled on The barrier reef. The back door was kept shut to keep out the meaner noises of domesticity, but at intervals in the course of the trial you could hear the deliberate grinding of the consular coffee. the chasing of consular chickens, the counting of the consular wash, shrill arguments over the price of fish a grotesque juxtaposition that seemed to make a mock of the whole proceedings. The consul, in well-starched white a diase etad et oiiro esthrodtaoietaoeta clothes and pipe-clayed shoes, sat on a dais beneath the crossed Hags of his country, giving the effect of an elegant and patriotic wax work. Below him were the four assessors, sunburned, commonish. sea-faring men, with enormous hands that they did not know what to do with, who moved <ineasily in their chairs and looked about for places

to spit—and then didn’t dare to. One, whose brawny arms far exceeded the shrunken sleeves of his jumper, unbared to view on his hairy skin the tatooed form of a naked mermaid. A table stood in the centre of the uncarpeted room, with a lawyer on either side—Purdy, the goaty-haired, dirty, elderly man, half-blind, sharp-voiced, rasping out his case. Opposite him. Thacher—ai slinky, mean-looking young man who was reputed to have left New Zealand under ai cloud. He looked what he was, ai cheap lawyer’s clerk, of the pinched, hungry variety one sees in gloomy anterooms. At the head of the table was Dillon, the everlasting dictatee, his dyed black whiskers drooping in the heat, who raised ai fat hand from time to time as a brake on outstripping tongues. And there Hu* captain’, the cause of all t'iisj singular assembly, tilting back in his chair, or occasionally leaning over to whisper into ’his counsel’s ear—• spare, angular, careworn—with his grim mouth and resolute air. as though the soul within him refused to be cowed by such droning tomfoolery. Beside the front door was a shabby, basket-work sofa, where members of the public were entitled to sit. They would tiptoe in, these members of the public, furtively, as though expecting to be shot on sight, the holder ones perhaps exchanging a whisper, the weaker brethren silent and trembling if they caught Ain official eye. Outside, on the steps of the broad verandah the brothers Scanlon lolled and slumbered, with pewter stars on their sweaty bosoms, enjoying the deep contentment that comes with 1 wo dollars and fifty cents a day. The trial lasted two days, but judgment was held over for the third. The ease against Satterlee was complete. The San Francisco affidavits, properly math* out by competent hands, were confirmed by the confession of Ah Foy, tin* cook, who (besides Satterlee) was the only present membiw of the original crew. Satterlee set up the lame excuse that he had purchased the vessel from Crawford, and was. therefore, her actual owner. He was sworn, and gave evidence accordingly, but Purdy’s crossexamijiation loft him without a leg to stand on. He cut a pitiful figure as he floundered and lied and contradicted himself under the lash cf that relentless tongue, miring himself ever deeper with explanations that did not explain, and agitated references to ai “conspiracy” whose object it was to ruin him. No, the only thing to be considered was the degree of punishment that would adequately offset his crime. On the reassembling of the court on the morning of the third day, little Skiddy, from the majesty of the dais, summed up the case at length. It covered nine sheets of foolscap, and had cost him hours of agonizing toil. Beginning with a general rhetorical statement about the “policy of nations,” and the “security of the high seas,” he descended by degrees to the crime of barratry—or, in plain English, the theft of ships, lie looked at barratry from every side, and the more he looked the less he seemed to like 1 it. It was the cradle of piracy; it destroyed the confidence of owners; barratry,- if fre-

quently repeated, would shake th# whole commercial structure. A person who committed barratry would commit anything. In this manner he went on ami on. reviewing the evidence of the ease, destroying the whole fabric of the defence, dwelling at length on the enormity of the entire transaction. The “.James 11. Peabody” had been deliberately seized. The prisoner had lawlessly converted her, the property of another, to his own bis? uses. He had broken into the cargo and shamelessly sold it as his own. He could plead neither the extenuation of youth, nor ignorance, nor the urging of others. He had conceived the crime, and had carried it out, single-handed. The court could not accept the contention that Ah Foy, the Chinaman, had been in any sense a confederate or an accomplice. The court dismissed the charge against Ah boy. But after mature deliberation its unanimous judgment was that John Forster, alias Satterlee, was guilty. The court sentenced John Forster, alias Satterlee, to ten years' penal servitude. Purdy popped up with some question, as to the scale of court fees. Thacher winked at Dillon, and began to roll up his papers. Skiddy descended from the dais, and became an ordinary human lieing again. The Captain, leaning forward in his chair, gazed ab-

Rently out to sea. The Reunion brothers appeared, officiously wanting ♦o know what they were to do next. Skiddy was unable to tell them, except that they were to stay by the prisoner until he could consult with the authorities. He put on his hat, lit a cigar, and forthwith departed. The President was kind, the Chief Justice urbane. The income of the kingdom barely sufficed tor their two salaries, and they judged it incumbent (as they could do nothing else) to be as polite as possible to the American Consul. But jails? Oh. no. they couldn’t oblige Skiddy with a- new jail! He was welcome to what tl'-cy had, but it wasn’t in reason that he could exp®ct anything better. Skiddy said it was a h<»g pen. The President retorted that the King’s allowance was eight months in arnmrs, ami that the western end of th? island was still in rebellion. Jails lost money, and they hud no money. Skiddy declared it was an outrage, and asked them if they approved of putting a white man into a bare stockade, with non? of the commonest conveniences or decencies of life? They were both shocked at the suggestion. The pride of race is v» -> ry strong .in barbarous countries. A white man is still a white man even if he has committed all the crimes in th.* calendar. The Chief Justice very seriously pointed out that it would disgrace them all to confine Satterlee in the stockade, end force him to mix with the dregs of the native population. Surely Air. Skiddy could not consider such a thing for a moment? Mr. Skiddy wanted to know, then, what the deuce hr was to do? Ihe Chief Justice benignantly shook his head. He had no answer to that question. The President murmured suavely that perhaps next year, with an increased hut-tax. and the suppression of the rebellion, the Government might see its way to "Next vear!” roared Skiddy. “1 want to know what I’m to do NOW !” I’he Iwo high officials gazed at him "sadly. It was a great pity, they observed (with an air of gentle complaint), that Mr. Skiddy should have embarrassed the Government at a time when its whole position was precarious. Had he not better refer the. matter to Washington? Doubtless Washington, recognising the fact that— Skiddy Hung himself out lest his anger should get the best of him. He went and had another

look at the jail, and liked it even less than before. Faugh, it was disgusting! It would kill a white man in a week. It would Ih* nothing less than murder to put Satterlee into it. He returned to the consulate to talk over the matter with the trusty Scanlons. Would they consider a monthly arrangement on a reduced charge, giving Satterlee the best- room in their cottage, and pledging themselvis that he should never quit the confines of their threeacre cocoanut patch? The half-casto brothers fell in joyfully with the suggestion, and their first wild proposals were beaten down to forty dollars a month for custodianship and fifteen dollars for Ihe room and the transport of Satterlees food from the International Hotel —fifty-five dollars in all. Thirty dollars a month for tin* hotel raised the grand total to eighty-five dollars. Skiddy wondered ruefully whether Washington would ever indorse this arrangement, but in his desperation he couldn’t see that he had any other choice. He would simply make Washington indorse it. It was with great relief that he saw the Captain’s reparture from a corner of his bedroom window, and felt that, for the moment at least, he had a welcome respite from ail his perplexities. He put a captain and crew on board the James IF. Peabody, and packed her back to San Francisco, at the same time apprising the State Department by mail, and begging that a telegraphic answer might be sent him in respect to Satterlee’s imprisonment, and the expense it

had necessarily entailed. He calculated that the telegram would catch an outgoing man-of-war that was shortly due. The consular salary was two hundred dollars a month, and if the eighty-five dollars for Satterlee was disallowed, the sum was indubitably hound to sink to one hundred and fifteen dollars. Deducting a further fifty, which little Skiddy was in the habit of remitting to bis mother, a widow in narrow circumstances, and behold his income reduced to sixty-five a month! It was hardly surprising, therefore, that Skiddy waited on pins and needles for the Department’s reply! In the course of weeks it came. Skiddy U S consul apia samoa sat terIce case the department authorises charge for food, but none for custody or lodging, bronson assistant secretary. This was a staggering blow. It definitely placed his salary at ninety-five dollars! He sat down ami wrote a stinging letter to the Department, inclosing snap-shot pictures of the jail, the prisoners, the huts, and other things that cannot be descrilied here. It evolved an acrimonious reply, in which he was bidden to Ih* more respectful. He was at liberty (the despatch continued), if he thought it advisable as an act of private charity, to maintain the convict Satterlee in a comfortable cottage, but the Department insisted that it should be at his. Skiddy’s, expense. The Department itself advocated tin* jail. If the situation was as disgraceful as he had described it, ought not the onus be put on the Samoan Government, “and thus place the Department in a position to make strong representations through the usual diplomatic channels?” “But in the meantime what would happen to Satterlee?’’ returned the consul -in official language across six thousand miles of sea and land. “You an* referred to the previous despatch,” retorted the Department. “Bid it will kill him.” said Skiddy. a train crossing an ocean and a continent. “If the convict Satterlee should liecome ill. you are at liberty to send him to the hospital.”

“Yes, but there isn’t any hospital,” said Skiddy. “The Department cannot withdraw from the position it took up. nor the principle it laid down in despatch No. 214 B!” Thus the duel went on. while Skiddy cut down his cigars, sold his riding horse, ami generally economised. A regret stole over him that he hadn't sentenced Satterlee to a shorter term, and he looked up the Consular Instructions to see what pardoning powers hi* possessed. On this point the little book was dumb. Not so the Department, however, to whom a hint on the subject provoked the reply, “that by so doing you f/ould stultify your previous action and impugn the finding of the consular court. The Department would view with grave displeasure, etc. !’’ Satterlee soon made himself very much at home in I he Scanlon prison. His winning personality never showed to better advantage than in those days of his eclipse, lie dandled the Scanlon oilspring on bis knee; helped the women with their household tasks; played checker* with the burly brothers. He was prodigiously re.-pected. lie gathered in the Scanlon hearts, even to uncles and second cousins. You would have taken him for a patriarch in the bosom of a family of which he was the joy and pride. He received the best half-caste society on bis front porch, and dispensed Scanlon hospitality with a lavish hand. These untutored souls had no proper Conception of barratry. They couldn’t see any crime in running away with a schooner. They pitied the Captain as a bold spirit who hail met with undeserved misfortunes. The Samoan has ever a sympathetic hand for the fallen mighty • —and the hand is never empty of a gift. Bananas, pineapples, taro, sugar-cane, .pa lisa mi, sucking-pigs, chickens, eggs, valo—all descended on Satterlee in wholesale lots. Girls brought him leis of Howers to wear round his neck; anonymous friends stole milk for his refreshment ; pigeon-hunters. returning singing from the mountains, deferentially laid their best at his feet. He was consulted, and his advice taken on intricate and perplexing subjects, inedi.cal, legal, nautical, and military. No one could pass his door without a chat. On Sundays Skiddy paid the Captain a periodical visit. lie would bring the latest papers if there were any -or a novel or two from his scant\ stock.

Their original friendship had died a violent death, but a new one had gradually arisen on the ashes of the old. Skiddy hail no more illusions in respect to this romantic-minded humbug and semipirate: but the man was likable, tremendously likable—and in spite of himself, tin* little consul could not forbear suffciing MHim of the pangs of remorse. The world was so big, so wide, with such a sufficiency of room for all (even romantic-minded humbugs ami semipirates). and it was hard that Providence should have singled him out to clip this eagle's wings’ Then* was something, too. very pathetic in Slat terlee’s contentment. He confided to Skiddy that he had never been so happy. With glistening eyes he would discourse on “these simple people”—“these good hearts” “ this lovely and uncontaminated paradise where evil seems never to have set its hand”—and expatiate generally on the beauty, charm, and ti anquillity of Samoan life. He dreaded tho time, he said, when a ruthless civilization would sweep it all away. Satterlee and he took long walks into the mountains, invariably accompanied by a Scanlon brother to give an ofiicial aspect to t he excursion. It maintained the fast-disappearing principle that Satterlee was a convict and under vigilant guard. It served to take away the appearance besides (which they might otherwise have presented) of two friends spending a happy day together in tin* country! A Scanlon brother stood for the I’nited States Government and the majesty of law, and propriety demanded his presence as peremptorily as a chaperon for a young lady. A Scan lon brother could be useful, too. in climbing cocoanut trees, rubbing sticks together when tho matches were lost, and in guiding them to noble waterfalls tar bidden in the forest. In this manner nearly a whole vear passed, which, for the little consul, represented an unavoidable monthly outlay of fifty-five dollars. He got somewhat used to it, as everybody gets somewhat used to everything: but he could not resist certain recurring intervals of depression when he contrasted his present circumstances with his by-gone glory. Fifty-tive dollars a month made a big hole in a consular income, and he yvoidd gaze down that ten-year vista with a sinking heart. But relic*f was closer at hand than he had ever dared to hope. From the Department? No! But from Satt(*rlee himself. The news was brought to lit th* Skiddy early one morning. Alfred Scanlon, with an air of gloom, depreeatingly coughed his way into the bedroom, anil banded 1 he consul a letter. II was written on pale pink note paper, of the kind Samoans liked best, with two lavender love-birds embossed in tin* corner. It was from Satterlee. “ Dear friend,” it ran. “ when this reaches you I shall be far to sea. My excuse for so long subsisting on your bounty must be laid to my ignorance, which was only illuminated two days ago by accident. I had no idea that you were paving for me out of your own private* purse, nor that my ease and comfort were obtained at so heavy a cost to yourself. Regretfully I bring our pleasant relations to an end, impelled. I assure* you. by the promptings of a heartfelt friendship. I loved the simple people amongst whom my lot was cast, and looked forward, at tin* termination of my sentence, to end the balance of my days peacefully amongst them. The world, seen from so great, a. distance, and from within so sweet a nest, frightened me. old stager that I am. God knows. I have never seen but its ugliest side, and return to it with profound depression. Kindly explain my abrupt departure to the Scanlons, and if you would do me a last favour, buy a lit th* rocking-horse that there is at Edward’s store, price three dollars, and present it in my name to my infant god-daughter, Apeli Scanlon. To them, all kindly express my warmest and sincerest gratitude; and for yourself, dear friend, the best, the truest, the kindest of men, accept the warm grasp of my hand at parting. “ Ever vonrs, “ JOHN SA ITERLEE. ’ <{ It must have liee-n the Hamburg barque that sailed last night,” quavered Scanlon. Of course Skiddy blew that Scanlon up. He wiped the lloor with him. He roared at him until tlqit great, hulking creature* shook like jelly and his round black eyes Kull'iised with tears. Il« imide him sit down then and Ihcrc;

swore him on the consular Bible: and made him dictate a statement which was signed in the presence of the vot»k. This accomplished, Alfred was inglori- • Hisly dismiss'd, while the consul went out on the back veranda, ahd sat there in his pajamas, to think the matter over. It seemed a pity to rouse tin* l)epa»Tnient. The Department's interest in Satterlee could at no time have been called brisk, and it had now ebbed to a negligible quantity. But it would be just like the Department to get suddenly galvanized ami h v sterica llv head Satterlee oil at. Hamburg. i bis wind I mean his ultimate return to Samoa, and a perpetual further outlay of titty live dollars from a hard-earned salary! No, ho woulhi’t worry the Dep.irt m<*nt. . . . Let sleeping dogs lie. 'I here were better ways of spen ling fifty live dollars a month thin That, night the consul had champagne at dinner, and drank a >i!ent toast. “Good hick to him, poor old devil!”— I'rom Met lure’s Magazine.