The captain of the schooner was a man of a type common enough in the South Seas, rough, good-humoured, and coarsely handsome.
After dinner the two men sat over their whisky and talked and smoked. Mrs. Lambert, always an invalid, had gone to her room, but Loisé, book in hand, lay on a sofa and seemed to read. But she did not read, she listened. She had caught a word or two uttered by the dark-faced, black-bearded skipperwords that filled her with vague memories of long ago. And soon she heard namesnames of men, white and brown, whom she had known in that distant, almost forgotten and savage childhood.
When the seaman rose to leave and extended his tanned, sinewy hand to the beautiful Miss Lambert, and gazed with undisguised admiration into her face, he little thought that she longed to say, Stay and let me hear more. But she was conventional enough to know better than that, and that her adopted parents would be genuinely shocked to see her anything more than distantly friendly with such a man as a common trading captaineven though that man had once been one of Lamberts most trusted men. Still, as she raised her eyes to his, she murmured softly, We will be glad to see you again, Captain Lemaire. And the dark-faced seaman gave her a subtle, answering glance.
All that night she lay awakeawake to the child memories of the life that until now had slumbered within her. From her opened bedroom window she could see the dulled blaze of the citys lights, and hear ever and anon the hoarse and warning roar of a steamers whistle. She raised herself and looked out upon the waters of the harbour. A huge, black mass was moving slowly seaward, showing only her masthead and side-lightssome ocean tramp bound northward. Again the boom of the whistle sounded, and then, by the quickened thumping of the propeller, the girl, knew that the tramp had rounded the point and was heading for the open sea.
She lay back again on the pillow and tried to sleep. Why couldnt she sleep, she wondered. She closed her eyes. The branches of the pine that grew close to her window rustled and shook to a passing breath of wind, and her eyes opened again. How strangely, though, it sounded to-night, and how her heart was thumping! Again the white lids drooped and half closed again, and the pine branches waved and soughed gently to the breeze.
And then the dead grey of the wall of the room changed to a bright, shimmering whitethe white of an island beach as it changes, under the red flush of the morn, from the shadows of the night to a broad belt of gleaming silverand the sough of the pine-tree by the window deepened into the humming music of the trade-wind when it passes through the sleeping palms, and a million branches awake trembling to its first breaths and shake off in pearly showers the dews of the night. Again she raced along the clinking sand with her childish, half-naked companions, and heard the ceaseless throb of the beating surf upon the windward reef, and saw the flash of gold and scarlet of a flock of parrakeets that with shrill, whistling note, vanished through the groves of cocoa-nuts as they sped mountain wards. Then her latent native soul awoke and made her desperate.
Ere two days had passed she was missing, and six weeks later a little white-painted schooner hove-to off one of the Paumotu Group, lowered a boat, and landed her amongst the wondering natives.
The dark-faced, black-bearded man who steered the boat held her hand a moment ere he said good-bye.
It is not too late, Loisé.
She raised her face and laughed scornfully.
To go back? To go back to hear the old man who was a father and the good woman who was a mother to me, tell me that they hated and despised me! And then quick, scalding tears.
The mans face flushed. No, not that, but, with an oath, look here, if youll come with me Ill head the schooner for Tahiti, and as soon as she swings to her anchor we will be ashore and married.
She shook her head. Let me go, Captain Lemaire. Whatever comes to me, tis I alone who must answer for it. And sogood-bye.
She stood and watched the boat hoisted to the davits, and saw the schooner slowly gather way, and then glide past and disappear round the palm-crowned point. Then she turned with streaming eyes and choking voice to the brown-skinned people that stood around her, and spoke to them in her mothers tongue.
So ended the sixteen years life of the beautiful Miss Lambert and began that of Loisé, the half-blood.
LOISÉ, THE HALF-BLOODThere was a wild rush of naked, scurrying feet, and a quick panting of brown bosoms along the winding path that led to Baldwins house at Rikitea. A trading schooner had just dropped anchor inside the reef, and the runners, young lads and girlshalf-naked, lithe-limbed and handsomelike all the people of the thousand isles, wanted to welcome Baldwin the Trader at his own house door.
Two of thema boy and girlgained the traders gate ahead of their excited companions, and, leaning their backs against the white palings, mocked the rest for their tardiness in the race. With one arm around the girls lissom waist, the boy, Maturei, short, thickset, muscular, and the bully of the village, beat off with his left hand those who sought to displace them from the gate; and the girl, thin, créole-faced, with soft, red-lipped mouth, laughed softly at their vexation. Her gaily-coloured grass waist girdle had broken, and presently moving the boys protecting arm, she tried to tie the band, and as she tied it she rattled out oaths in English and French at the score of brown hands that sought to prevent her.
Hui! Hui!! Away, ye fools, and let me tie my girdle, she said in the native tongue. Tis no time now for such folly as this; for, see, the boat is lowered from the ship and in a little time the master will be here.
The merry chatter ceased in an instant and every face turned towards the schooner, and a hundred pair of curious eyes watched. Then, one by one, they sat down and waited; all but the two at the gate, who remained standing, the boys arm still wound round the girls waist.
The boat was pulling in swiftly now, and the click-clack of the rowlocks reached the listening ears of those on shore.
There were two figures in the stern, and presently one stood up, and taking off his hat, waved it towards the shore.
A roar of welcome from the thronging mass of natives that lined the beach drowned the shrill, piping treble of the children round the gate, and told sturdy old Tom Baldwin that he was recognised, and scarce had the bow of the boat ploughed into the soft sand of the beach when he was seized upon and smothered with caresses, the men with good-natured violence thrusting aside the women and forming a body-guard to conduct him and the young man with him from the boat to the house. And about the strange white man the people thronged with inquiring and admiring glances, for he was big and strong-lookingand that to a native mind is better than all else in the world.
With joyous, laughing clamour, the natives pressed around the white men till the gate was reached, and then fell back.
The girl stepped forward, and taking the traders hand, bent her forehead to it in token of submission.
The key of this thy house, Tâmu, she murmured in the native tongue, as she placed it in his hand.
Enter thou first, Loisé, and he waved it away.
A faint smile of pleasure illumined her face; Baldwin, rough and careless as he was, was yet studious to observe native custom.
The white men followed her, and then in the open doorway Baldwin stopped, turned, and raised his hand, palm outwards, to the throng of natives without.
Enter thou first, Loisé, and he waved it away.
A faint smile of pleasure illumined her face; Baldwin, rough and careless as he was, was yet studious to observe native custom.
The white men followed her, and then in the open doorway Baldwin stopped, turned, and raised his hand, palm outwards, to the throng of natives without.
I thank thee, friends, for thy welcome. Dear to mine ears is the sound of the tongue of the men of Rikitea. See ye this young man here. He is the son of my friend who is now deadhe whom some of ye have seen, Kapeni Paraisi (Captain Brice).
A tall, broad-shouldered native, with his hair streaming down over his shoulders, strode up the steps, and taking the young mans hand in his, placed it to his forehead.
The son of Paraisi is welcome to Rikitea, and to me, the chief of Rikitea.
There was a murmur of approval; Baldwin waved his hand again, and then, with Brice, entered the house.
Outside, the boy and girl, seated on the verandah steps, talked and waited for orders.
Said Maturei, Loisé, think you that now Tâmu hath found thee to be faithful to his house and his name that he will marry thee according to the promise made to the priests at Tenararo when he first brought thee here?
She took a thick coil of her shining black hair and wound it round and round her hand meditatively, looking out absently over the calm waters of the harbour.
Who knows, Maturei? And I, I care not. Yet do I think it will be so; for what other girl is there here that knoweth his ways, and the ways of the white men as I know them? And this old man is a glutton; and, so that my skill in baking pigeons and making karri and rice fail me not, then am I mistress here.... Maturei, is not the stranger an evil-looking man?
Evil-looking! said the boy, wonderingly; nay, how canst thou say that of him?
What a jolly old fellow he is, and how these people adore him! thought Brice, as they sat down to dinner. Two or three of the village girls waited upon them, and in the open doorway sat a vision of loveliness, arrayed in yellow muslin, and directing the movements of the girls by almost imperceptible motions of her palm-leaf fan.
Brice was strangely excited. The novelty of the surroundings, the wondrous, bright beauty of sea, and shore, and palm-grove that lay within his range of vision were already beginning to weave their fetal spell upon his susceptible nature. And then, again and again, his glance would fall upon the sweet, oval face and scarlet lips of the girl that sat in the doorway. Who was she? Not old Baldwins wife, surely! for had not the old fellow often told him that he was not married? And what a lovely spot to live in, this Rikitea! By Jove, he would like to stay a year here instead of a few months only.... Again his eyes rested on the figure in the doorwayand then his veins thrilledLoisé, lazily lifting her long, sweeping lashes had caught his admiring glance.
Brice was no fool with womenthat is, he thought so, never taking into consideration that his numerous love affairs had always ended disastrouslyto the woman. And his mother, good simple soul, had thought that the best means of taking her darling son away from unapproved-of female society would be a voyage to the islands with old Tom Baldwin!
Dinner was finished, and the two men were sitting out on the verandah smoking and drinking whisky, when Brice said, carelessly
I wonder you never married, Baldwin.
The old trader puffed at his pipe for a minute or two ere he answered
Did you notice that girl at all? and he inclined his head towards the door of the sitting-room.
The young man nodded.
Then the candid Baldwin told him her history. I cant defend my own position. I am no better than most tradersyou see it is the custom here, neither is she worse than any of these half-blooded Paumotuans. If I married a native of this particular island I would only bring trouble on my head. I could not show any preference for any particular girl for a wife without raising the bitterest quarrels among some of the leading chiefs here. You see, as a matter of fact, I should have married as soon as I came here, twenty years ago; then the trouble would have been over. But I didnt. I can see my mistake now, for I am getting old pretty fast; and now that the missionaries are here, and I do a lot of business with them, I think us white men ought to show them some kind of respect by getting marriedproperly marriedto our wives.
Brice laughed. You mean, Baldwin, they should get married according to the rites of the Roman Catholic Church?
Aye, the old trader assented. Now, theres Loisé, therea clever, intelligent, well-educated girl, and as far as money or trade goes, as honest as the day. Can I, an old white-headed fool of sixty, go to Australia and ask any good woman to marry me, and come and live down here? No.
He smoked in silence awhile, and then resumed.
Yes; honest and trustworthy she is, I believe; although the white blood in her veins is no recommendation. If ever you should live in the islands, my ladwhich isnt likelytake an old fools advice and never marry a half-caste, either in native fashion or in a church with a brass band and a bishop as leading features of the show.
Loisé came to them. Will you take coffee, Tâmu? she asked, standing before them with folded hands.
The trader bent his head, and as the girl with noiseless step glided gracefully away again he watched her.
I think I will marry her, Brice. Sometimes when the old Marist priest comes here he makes me feel dd uncomfortable. Of course he is too much of a gentlemanalthough he is a sky-pilotto say all he would like to say, but every time he bids me good-bye he sayscunning old chapAnd think, M. Baldwin, her father, bad as he was, was a white man!
The young man listened in silence.
I dont think I will ever go back to civilisation again, my ladI am no use there. Here I am somebodythere I am nobody; so I think Ill give the old Father a bit of a surprise soon. Then with his merry, chuckling laughand youll be my best man. You see, it wont make any difference to you. Nearly all that I have, when I peg out, will go to youthe son of my old friend and shipmate.
A curious feeling shot through Brices heart as he murmured his thanks. The recital of the girls history made him burn with hot anger against her. He had thought her so innocent. And yet the old traders words, Ive almost made up my mind to marry her, seemed to dash to the ground some vague hope, he knew not what.
That night he lay on a soft mat on Baldwins verandah and tried to sleep. But from between the grey-reds of the serried line of palms that encompassed the house on all but the seaward side, a pale face with star-like eyes and ruby lips looked out and smiled upon him; in the distant and ever varying cadences of the breaking surf he heard the sweet melody of her voice; in the dazzling brilliancy of the starry heavens her haunting face, with eyes alight with love, looked into his.
Dn! He rose from his couch, opened the gate, and went out along the white dazzle of the starlit beach. What the devil is the matter with me? I must be drunkon two or three nips of whisky.... What a glorious, heavenly night! And what a grand old fellow Baldwin is! And Im an infernal scoundrel to think of heror a dd idiot, or a miserable combination of both.
In a few days two things had happened. Baldwin had married Loisé, and Brice was madly in love with her and she with him. Yet scarcely a word had passed between themhe silent because of genuine shame at the treachery of his thoughts to the old man; she because she but bided her time.