Sometimes, as he sat with his chin resting on his hand, and the red glow of his pipe sending now and again a fitful gleam of light across the rugged lines of his face, the girl would get quietly down from the moss-grown coral boulder on which she rested by his side, and stepping down to the short, steep beach, play with childish solemnity with such pebbles and light shells as lay within the reach of her little hands. Perhaps, if the tide was heavy and at its flood, and a breaker heavier than the rest breached shorewards in a white wall of seething foam, and crashed and rattled together the loose coral slabs that marked the line of high-water mark, the silent, dreaming man would spring to his feet with a loud warning call. And the little one, answering his deep tones with her soft, sweet treble, would spring back to her fathers side, and nestling her tender form against his gaunt frame, lay her cheek against his, and say, in the soft Tokelau tongue, Twas a great wave, my father!
Aye, he would answer, as he placed an arm round the child and gazed at her for a moment, twas a great wave truly, taka taina,1 and thou art so small, that if it but touched thy feet thou wouldst be swept away like as a leaf in a strong wind. So stay thee here beside me, sweet one, and again his face would turn seaward, and the silence of the night, save for the soughing of the wind and the cry of the surf, fall upon them again.
Thus the first hours of the island night would pass, till a glare of light flashed upon the blackness of the sea beyond the snow-line of surf, as the canoes from Matakatea would round the point, each one with a flaming torch of dried palm-leaves held high by a brown, tattooed hand, to dazzle the flying fish that, with wings outspread, floated motionless upon the surface of the water.
Then, because the child had no playmates, and her little life was almost as joyless and as solitary as his own, he would wait with her till the long line of canoes passed by, so that she could see the bronzed, half-naked figures of the paddlers, and the bright gleam and shimmer of the fish as they were swept up by the deadly net, and hear the warning cry from the torch-bearers, as in the depths beneath they saw the black shadow of a prowling shark rushing to seize the net, or perchance the outrigger of the canoe, in his cruel, murderous jaws.
Slowly the canoes paddled by, and as they passed, the hum of voices and laughter and the cheery lilt of island melody died away, and the paddlers looked shoreward to the motionless figure of Prout, who, with the child by his side, seemed to heed naught but the wide sweep of ocean that lay before him.
But though the voices and laughter and snatches of song ceased, many of the kindly-hearted people would, ere they passed, call out a word or two of greeting to the white man and his child, and the latter would wave her hand and smile back, while her father, as if awakened from a dream, called out, in the island tongue, the customary May your fishing to-night be lucky. And then, as the last canoe vanished, and the glare and the smoke of the torches with it, he, with the little Mercedes by his side, walked back to his house on the lagoon.
And so, night after night, save in the stormy season of the year, when the white rain-squalls gathered together on the windward sea-line, and swept quickly down upon the island and drenched the loose, sandy soil with pouring showers, the white man had sat with his face turned seaward to the cloudless horizon of the starlit ocean and his mind dwelling upon the ever-present memories of the past.
Such, for three years past, ever since he had first landed among the people of Nukutavau, had been the existence of Prout, the silent, solitary trader.
II
Nine years before, Prout, then one of the smartest Englishmen in the Hawaiian Islands, had been manager of the Kalahua sugar plantation on Maui. Out of his very loneliness in the worldfor except his mother, in a far-away Devonshire village, there was no one in the outside world that cared aught for himthere grew upon him that quiet, reserved temperament that led the other white men on the plantation to call him in kindly jest, Prout, the Hermit.
But although he never mixed with the men on the Kalahua Estate in the wild revelries with which they too often sought to break the monotony of their existence and celebrate a good season, he was by no means a morose or unsociable man; and Chard, the merry-hearted Belgian sugar-boiler, often declared that it was Prout alone who kept the estate going and the native labourers from turning on the white men and cutting their throats, out of sheer revenge for the brutal treatment they received from Sherard, the savage, drunken owner of Kalahua.
Between Roden Sherard and Prout there had been always, from the first day almost of the latter entering upon his duties, a silent, bitter antagonism. And the reason of it was known only to the two men themselves.
In those times the native labour for the Hawaiian sugar plantations was recruited from the islands of the Mid-Pacific, and from the chains of sandy atolls lying between the Bonins and the Radack Archipelago of the Marshall Group. On Kalahua there were some three hundred natives, and within a month of Prout taking charge, he had changed their condition so much for the better, that not one of the wild-eyed, half-naked beings who toiled from sunrise to dark but would give him a grateful glance as he rode through the cane fields. And Sherard, who rode with him, would see this, and scowl and tell Prout that as soon as his engagement terminated, he, Sherard, would bring back Fletcher, the former manager, a man who would thump a kanaka into a pulp if he dared to look sideways at him.
If you are not satisfied with me you can bring him here to-morrow if you like, Prout had said coldly to him one day. Ive managed bigger places than this in Demerara, and on no one of them have I ever seen a nigger struck. But then, you see, in Demerara the planters are Englishmen, and Englishmen as a rule dont shine at nigger walloping.
Sherard, a black-visaged Marylander, snapped his teeth together and, smothering his rage, tried to laugh the matter off.
Well, I suppose youre right, Prout. I know I have got a good man in you; but at the same time, God never intended these damned saucy niggers to be coddled and petted.
Prout laughed ironically as he repeated Sherards words coddled and petted! And then long-suppressed wrath boiled out, and, swinging his horses head round, he faced the owner of Kalahua.
Look here, Sherard, give me the control of these three hundred natives for the next two seasons and Ill stake my life that theyll do more work for you than you have ever had done by that brute Fletcher when he had five hundred here. Do you think that these people knew what was in store for them when they came here?that in place of an encouraging word they would get a threat or a blow? That those of them who have wives and daughters can forget what has befallen them? Do you think that I dont know that you speak of me to your friends with contempt as a nigger-loving Britisher? And yet, Sherard, you know well that, were I to leave Kalahua tomorrow, every native on the estate would leave toonot for love of me, but to get away from you.
Sherard laughed coarsely.
Youve got more in you than I thought, Prout. What you say is true enough. Let us quit quarrelling. I know you can do more with them than Abe Fletcher could; and I guess Im not going to interfere with you.
But, for all that, Prout did not trust Sherard, and he made up his mind to leave the estate when his two years engagement came to an end.
But, for all that, Prout did not trust Sherard, and he made up his mind to leave the estate when his two years engagement came to an end.
The Mana is in Honolulu with a cargo of Line Island boys, Prout, said Sherard to him about a month or two after this; I wish you would get away down there, and try to obtain some more hands. You talk the language like a Line Islander, and will have no trouble in getting all the men we want.
But when Prout boarded the labour schooner Mana there was not a native left. The other planters on Oahu had been there before him, and the masterCaptain Courtaynecalled him down to have a drink in the cabin.
You are the new manager on Kalahua, hey? Well, Im sorry youve had your trip for nothing; but, at the same time, Im real glad to see Sherard left out in the cold. Hes a bad man, sir, and although you might think that because Im in this trade Im not particularly soft, I can tell you that Id be thundering sorry to see any of the crowd Ive brought up go to him.
Your feelings do you honour, Captain; but I can assure you that the Kalahua boys are well treated now, said Prout, as he took the cigar the seaman handed him.
The quiet manner and truthful look in Prouts face made the master of the schooner regard him intently for a few moments, then he said abruptly:
Do you know Honolulu well?
Prout did not; his visits there had been few and far between.
Do you know any decent people here who could take care of my daughter for me till I come back from my next trip?
No, Captain, I do not.
Take another whisky, sir, and Ill tell you the fix Im in. You see Im new to this business. I had a trading station down on one of the Ellice Islands where Ive lived for the last twenty years. This schooner came there about six months ago, and the captain died in my house. As the mate couldnt navigate, and I am an old shell-back, I sold out my trading station, took charge of her, brought my daughter aboard and filled the schooner with Line Island labourers.
Her mother is dead, I suppose?
Captain Courtayne coloured and shifted about in his seat. Well, no, not as far as I know; but, you see, down there in the south-east a man has to change his wives occasionally. For instance, if you marry a Samoa girl you must live in Samoa; she wont leave there to go and live on Nanomea or Vaitupu, where the people have different ideas and customs. And, as we poor traders have to shift about from one island to another sometimes, we cant afford to study a womans whims.
Prout grasped the situation at once. I see; your daughter, then, is your child by a former wife?
Just so. Her mother was a Hervey Island half-caste whom I married when I was trading on Manhiki. We drifted apart somehowperhaps it was my fault. I was a careless, hard-drinking man in those days. But, here I am telling you a lot of things that dont interest you, when I ought to tell you at once what it is I thought you might help me with. You see, Mr. Prout, my little Marie has lived with me all her life. Since she was five years old she has never left me for a day, and Ive done my best to educate her. Shes as good and true as gold, and this is what troubles meI dont want to take her away again in the schooner if I can help it. Do you thinkdo you knowof any English or American family here that would take her to live with them till I return from this voyage? Im willing to pay well for her keep.
Prout shook his head. I should advise you to take her back with you, Captain. How old is she?
The captain went to the companion-way and called out:
Marie.
Yes, father, answered a girls soft voice.
Come below a minute.
Prout heard some one getting out of a hammock that was slung over the skylight, and presently a small slippered foot touched the first step of the companion-way; and then a girl, about fifteen or sixteen, came into the cabin, and bowing to him, seated herself by the captain of the schooner. Then, as if ashamed of the formal manner of her greeting, she rose again, and a smile lit up her beautiful face, as she offered her hand to him.
Prout, one of those men whose inborn respect for women often makes them appear nervous, constrained, and awkward in their presence, flushed to the roots of his hair as she let her soft hand touch his.
That is Marie, sir, and the skipper glanced somewhat proudly at the graceful, muslin-clad figure of his daughter. Marie, this gentleman says he does not know any English or American ladies here.
The sweet red mouth smiled and the dark eyes danced.
Im very glad, father; I would rather go away with you to sea in the Mana than stay in a strange place.
But Marie Courtayne did not go away; for next morning her father, through Prout, learned that the French Sisters were willing to take her as a boarder till the schooner returned, and so to them she went, with her tender mouth twitching, and her eyes striving to keep back the tears that would come as she bade her father goodbye.
Youll go and see my little Marie sometimes, I hope, Mr. Prout? said Courtayne, as he bade farewell to the manager of Kalahua.
Prout murmured something in reply, and then the captain of the Mana and he parted.
Three months later the American cruiser Saranac brought the news that she had spoken the labour schooner Mana, Captain Courtayne, off the island of Marakei, in the Gilbert Group, all well, and wished to be reported at Honolulu. After that she, her captain and crew, and the two hundred Kanaka labourers she had on board, were never heard of again.
For nearly a year Prout and Marie Courtayne waited and hoped for some tidings of the missing ship, but none came. And every now and then, when business took him to Honolulu, Prout would call at the Mission School and try to speak hopefully to her.
He is dead, she would say apathetically, and I wish I were dead, too. I think I shall die soon, if I have to live here.
Then Prout, who had grown to love her, one day plucked up courage to tell her so, and asked her to be his wife.
Yes, she said simply, I will be your wife. You are always kind to me, and for the first time she put her face up to his. He kissed her gravely, and then, being a straightforward, honourable man, he went to the Sisters and told them. A week afterward they were married.
When he returned to Kalahua with his wife, Sherard met them on the verandah of his house, and Prout wondered at the remarkable change in his manner, for even to women Sherard was coarse and tyrannical.
From the moment he first saw Maries fresh young beauty Sherard determined to have a deadly revenge upon her husband. But he went about his plans cautiously. Only a few days previously he had made a fresh agreement with Prout to remain for another two years. Before those two years had expired he meant to put his plan into effect. There was on the plantation a ruffianly Chileno who, he knew, would dispose of Prout satisfactorily when asked to do so.
When Maries child was born, Sherard acted the part of the imperatively good-natured employer, and told Prout that as soon as his wife was strong enough, he was to leave the house he then occupied and take up his quarters permanently in the big house.
This place of yours will do me, Prout, he said, when his manager protested; and your wifes only a delicate little thing. Theres all kinds of fixings and comforts there that shell appreciate, which you havent got here. Dn my thick skull, I might have done this before.