By Reef and Palm

by Louis Becke

  THE FATE OF THE ALIDA

  Three years ago, in an Australian paper, I read something that set methinking of Taplin--of Taplin and his wife, and the fate of the ALIDA.This is what I read:--

  "News has reached Tahiti that a steamer had arrived at Toulon with twonoted prisoners on board. These men, who are brothers named Rorique,long ago left Tahiti on an island-trading trip, and when the vessel gotto sea they murdered the captain, a passenger, the supercargo (MrGibson, of Sydney), and two sailors, and threw their bodies overboard.The movers in the affair were arrested at Ponape, in the CarolineIslands. The vessel belonged to a Tahitian prince, and was called theNUROAHITI, but its name had been changed after the tragedy. The accusedpersons were sent to Manilla. From Manilla they appear now to have beensent on to France."

  [NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.--The brothers Rorique were sentenced to imprisonmentfor life at Brest in 1895.]

  In the year 1872 we were lying inside Funafuti Lagoon, in the ElliceGroup. The last cask of oil had been towed off to the brig and placedunder hatches, and we were to sail in the morning for our usual cruiseamong the Gilbert and Kingsmill Islands.

  Our captain, a white trader from the shore, and myself, were sitting ondeck "yarning" and smoking. We lay about a quarter of a mile from thebeach--such a beach, white as the driven snow, and sweeping in a greatcurve for five long miles to the north and a lesser distance to thesouth and west. Right abreast of the brig, nestling like huge birds'nests in the shade of groves of coconut and bread-fruit trees, were thehouses of the principal village in Funafuti.

  Presently the skipper picked up his glasses that lay beside him on theskylight, and looked away down to leeward, where the white sails of aschooner beating up to the anchorage were outlined against the line ofpalms that fringed the beach of Funafala--the westernmost island thatforms one of the chain enclosing Funafuti Lagoon.

  "It's Taplin's schooner, right enough," he said. "Let us go ashore andgive him and his pretty wife a hand to pack up."

  * * * * *

  Taplin was the name of the only other white trader on Funafuti besidesold Tom Humphreys, our own man. He had been two years on the island,and was trading in opposition to our trader, as agent for a foreignhouse--our owners were Sydney people--but his firm's unscrupulousmethod of doing business had disgusted him. So one day he told thesupercargo of their vessel that he would trade for them no longer thanthe exact time he had agreed upon--two years. He had come to Funafutifrom the Pelews, and was now awaiting the return of his firm's vesselto take him back there again. Getting into our boat we were pulledashore and landed on the beach in front of the trader's house.

  "Well, Taplin, here's your schooner at last," said old Tom, as we shookhands and seated ourselves in the comfortable, pleasant-looking room."I see you're getting ready to go."

  Taplin was a man of about thirty or so, with a quiet, impassive face,and dark, deep-set eyes that gave to his features a somewhat gloomylook, except when he smiled, which was not often. Men with thatcurious, far-off look in their eyes are not uncommon among the lonelyislands of the wide Pacific. Sometimes it comes to a man with long,long years of wandering to and fro; and you will see it deepen when, bysome idle, chance word, you move the memories of a forgotten past--erehe had even dreamed of the existence of the South Sea Islands and forever dissevered himself from all links and associations of the outsideworld.

  * * * * *

  "Yes," he answered, "I am nearly ready. I saw the schooner at daylight,and knew it was the ALIDA."

  "Where do you think of going to, Taplin?" I asked.

  "Back to the Carolines. Nerida belongs down that way, you know; and sheis fretting to get back again--otherwise I wouldn't leave this island.I've done pretty well here, although the people I trade for are--well,you know what they are."

  "Aye," assented old Humphreys, "there isn't one of 'em but what is thetwo ends and bight of a--scoundrel; and that supercargo with the yallermoustache and womany hands is the worst of the lot. I wonder if he'saboard this trip? I don't let him inside my house; I've got too manydaughters, and they all think him a fine man."

  * * * * *

  Nerida, Taplin's wife, came out to us from an inner room. She was anative of one of the Pelew Islands, a tall, slenderly-built girl, withpale, olive skin and big, soft eyes. A flowing gown of yellowmuslin--the favourite colour of the Portuguese-blooded natives of thePelews--buttoned high up to her throat, draped her graceful figure.After putting her little hand in ours, and greeting us in the Funafutidialect, she went over to Taplin, and touching his arm, pointed out theschooner that was now only a mile or so away, and a smile parted herlips, and the star-like eyes glowed and filled with a tender light.

  I felt Captain Warren touch my arm as he rose and went outside. Ifollowed.

  * * * * *

  "L----," said Warren, "can't we do something for Taplin ourselves?Isn't there a station anywhere about Tonga or Wallis Island that wouldsuit him?"

  "Would he come, Warren? He--or, rather, that pretty wife of his--seemsbent upon going away in the schooner to the Carolines."

  "Aye," said the skipper, "that's it. If it were any other vessel Iwouldn't care." Then suddenly:

  "That fellow Motley (the supercargo) is a damned scoundrel--capable ofany villainy where a woman is concerned. Did you ever hear about oldRaymond's daughter down at Mangareva?"

  I had heard the story very often. By means of a forged letterpurporting to have been written by her father--an old English trader inthe Gambier Group--Motley had lured the beautiful young half-blood awayfrom a school in San Francisco, and six months afterwards turned heradrift on the streets of Honolulu. Raymond was a lonely man, andpassionately attached to his only child; so no one wondered when,reaching California a year after and finding her gone, he shot himselfin his room at an hotel.

  * * * * *

  "I will ask him, anyway," I said; and as we went back into the housethe ALIDA shot past our line of vision through the coco-palms, andbrought up inside the brig.

  "Taplin," I said, "would you care about taking one of our stations tothe eastward? Name any island you fancy, and we will land you therewith the pick of our 'trade' room."

  "Thank you. I would be only too glad, but I cannot. I have promisedNerida to go back to Babelthouap, or somewhere in the Pelews, andMotley has promised to land us at Ponape, in the Carolines. We can getaway from there in one of the Dutch firm's vessels."

  "I am very sorry, Taplin----" I began, when old Captain Warren burst inwith--"Look here, Taplin, we haven't got much time to talk. Here's theALIDA'S boat coming, with that (blank blank) scoundrel Motley in it.Take my advice. Don't go away in the ALIDA." And then he looked atNerida, and whispered something.

  A red spark shone in Taplin's dark eyes, then he pressed Warren's hand.

  "I know," he answered, "he's a most infernal villain--Nerida hates himtoo. But you see how I am fixed. The ALIDA is our only chance ofgetting back to the north-west. But he hasn't got old Raymond to dealwith in me. Here they are."

  * * * * *

  Motley came in first, hat and fan in hand. He was a fine-looking man,with blue eyes and an unusually fair skin for an island supercargo,with a long, drooping, yellow moustache. Riedermann, the skipper, whofollowed, was stout, coarse, red-faced, and brutal.

  "How are you, gentlemen?" said Motley affably, turning from Taplin andhis wife, and advancing towards us. "Captain Riedermann and I saw thespars of your brig showing up over the coconuts yesterday, andtherefore knew we should have the pleasure of meeting you."

  Warren looked steadily at him for a moment, and then glanced at hisoutstretched hand.

  "The pleasure isn't mutual, blarst you, Mr Motley," he said coldly, andhe put his hand in his pocket.

  The supercargo took a step nearer to him with a savage glare in hisblue eyes. "What do you mean by this, Captain Warren?"

  "Mean?" and the imperturbable Warren seated himself on a corner of thetable, and gazed stolidly first at the handsome Motley and then at theheavy, vicious featur
es of Riedermann. "Oh, anything you like. Perhapsit's because it's not pleasant to see white men landing at a quietisland like this with revolvers slung to their waists under theirpyjamas; looks a bit too much like Bully Hayes' style for me," and thenhis tone of cool banter suddenly changed to that of studied insolence."I say, Motley, I was talking about you just now to Taplin AND Nerida.Do you want to know what I was saying? Perhaps I had better tell you. Iwas talking about Tita Raymond--and yourself."

  * * * * *

  Motley put his right hand under his pyjama jacket, but Taplin sprangforward, seized his wrist in a grip of iron, and drew him aside.

  "The man who draws a pistol in my house, Mr Motley, does a foolishthing," he said, in quiet, contemptuous tones, as he threw thesupercargo's revolver into a corner.

  With set teeth and clenched hands Motley flung himself into a chair,unable to speak.

  Warren, still seated on the table, swung his foot nonchalantly to andfro, and then began at Riedermann.

  "Why, how's this, Captain Riedermann? Don't you back up yoursupercargo's little quarrels, or have you left your pistol on board?Ah, no, you haven't. I can see it there right enough. Modesty forbidsyou putting a bullet into a man in the presence of a lady, eh?" Thenslewing round again, he addressed Motley: "By God! sir, it is well foryou that we are in a white man's house, and that that man is my friendand took away that pistol from your treacherous hand. If you had firedat me I would have booted you from one end of Funafuti beach to theother--and I've a damned good mind to do it now, but won't, as Taplinhas to do some business with you."

  "That will do, Warren," I said. "We don't want to make a scene inTaplin's house. Let us go away and allow him to finish his business."

  Still glaring angrily at Riedermann and Motley, Warren got down slowlyfrom the table. Then we bade Taplin and Nerida good-bye and wentaboard.

  At daylight we saw Taplin and his wife go off in the ALIDA'S boat. Theywaved their hands to us in farewell as the boat pulled past the brig,and then the schooner hove-up anchor, and with all sail set, stood awaydown to the north-west passage of the lagoon.

  A year or so afterward we were on a trading voyage to the islands ofthe Tubuai Group, and were lying becalmed, in company with a NewBedford whaler. Her skipper came on board the brig, and we startedtalking of Taplin, whom the whale-ship captain knew.

  "Didn't you hear?" he said. "The ALIDA never showed up again. 'Turnedturtle,' I suppose, somewhere in the islands, like all those slashing,over-masted, 'Frisco-built schooners do, sooner or later."

  "Poor Taplin," said Warren, "I thought somehow we would never see himagain."

  * * * * *

  Five years had passed. Honest old Warren, fiery-tempered andtrue-hearted, had long since died of fever in the Solomons, and I wassupercargo with a smart young American skipper in the brigantinePALESTINE, when we one day sailed along the weather-side of a tinylittle atoll in the Caroline Islands.

  The PALESTINE was leaking, and Packenham, tempted by the easy passageinto the beautiful lagoon, decided to run inside and discharge ourcargo of copra to get at the leak.

  The island had but very few inhabitants--perhaps ten or twelve men anddouble that number of women and children. No ship, they told us, hadever entered the lagoon but Bully Hayes' brig, and that was nine yearsbefore. There was nothing on the island to tempt a trading vessel, andeven the sperm whalers, as they lumbered lazily past from Strong'sIsland to Guam, would not bother to lower a boat and "dicker" forpearl-shell or turtle.

  At the time of Hayes' visit the people were in sore straits, and on thebrink of actual starvation, for although there were fish and turtle inplenty, they had not the strength to catch them. A few months before, acyclone had destroyed nearly all the coconut trees, and an epidemicfollowed it, and carried off half the scanty population.

  * * * * *

  The jaunty sea-rover--than whom a kinder-hearted man to NATIVES neversailed the South Seas--took pity on the survivors, especially theyoungest and prettiest girls, and gave them a passage in the famousLEONORA to another island where food was plentiful. There they remainedfor some years, till the inevitable MAL DU PAYS that is inborn to everyPolynesian and Micronesian, became too strong to be resisted; and soone day a wandering sperm whaler brought them back again.

  But in their absence strangers had come to the island. As the peoplelanded from the boats of the whale-ship, two brown men, a woman, and achild, came out of one of the houses, and gazed at them. Then they fledto the farthest end of the island and hid.

  Some weeks passed before the returned islanders found out the retreatof the strangers, who were armed with rifles, and called them to "comeout and be friends." They did so, and by some subtle treachery the twomen were killed during the night.

  The woman, who was young and handsome, was spared, and, from what wecould learn, had been well treated ever since.

  "Where did the strangers come from?" we asked.

  That they could not tell us. But the woman had since told them that theship had anchored in the lagoon because she was leaking badly, and thatthe captain and crew were trying to stop the leak when she began toheel over, and they had barely time to save a few things when she sank.In a few days the captain and crew left the island in the boat, and,rather than face the dangers of a long voyage in such a small boat, thetwo natives and the woman elected to remain on the island.

  "That's a mighty fishy yarn," said Packenham to me. "I daresay thesefellows have been doing a little cutting-off business. But then I don'tknow of any missing vessel. We'll go ashore to-morrow and have a lookround."

  A little after sunset the skipper and I were leaning over the rail,watching the figures of the natives, as they moved to and fro in theglare of the fires lighted here and there along the beach.

  "Hallo!" said Packenham, "here's a canoe coming, with only a woman init. By thunder! she's travelling, too, and coming straight for theship."

  A few minutes more and the canoe was alongside. The woman hastilypicked up a little girl that was sitting in the bottom, looked up, andcalled out in English--

  "Take my little girl, please."

  A native sailor leant over the bulwarks and lifted up the child, andthe woman clambered after her. Then, seizing the child from the sailor,she flew along the deck and into the cabin.

  She was standing facing us as we followed and entered, holding thechild tightly to her bosom. The soft light of the cabin lamp fell fullupon her features, and we saw that she was very young, and seemedwildly excited.

  "Who are you?" we said, when she advanced, put out a trembling hand tous, and said: "Don't you know me, Mr Supercargo? I am Nerida, Taplin'swife." Then she sank on a seat and sobbed violently.

  * * * * *

  We waited till she regained her composure somewhat, and then I said:"Nerida, where is Taplin?"

  "Dead," she said in a voice scarce above a whisper; "only us two areleft--I and little Teresa."

  Packenham held out his hands to the child. With wondering, timid eyes,she came, and for a moment or two looked doubtingly upwards into thebrown, handsome face of the skipper, and then nestled beside him.

  For a minute or so the ticking of the cabin clock broke the silence,ere I ventured to ask the one question uppermost in my mind.

  "Nerida, how and where did Taplin die?"

  "My husband was murdered at sea," she said and then she covered herface with her hands.

  "Don't ask her any more now," said Packenham pityingly; "let her tellus to-morrow."

  She raised her face. "Yes, I will tell you to-morrow. You will take meaway with you, will you not, gentlemen--for my child's sake?"

  "Of course," said the captain promptly. And he stretched out his honesthand to her.

  * * * * *

  "She's a wonderfully pretty woman," said Packenham, as we walked thepoop later on, and he glanced down through the open skylight to whereshe and the child slept peacefully on the cushioned transoms. "Howprettily she speaks English, too. Do you think she was fond of herhusband, or was i
t merely excitement that made her cry?--native womenare as prone to be as hysterical as our own when under any violentemotion."

  "I can only tell you, Packenham, that when I saw her last, five yearsago, she was a graceful girl of eighteen, and as full of happiness as abird is of song. She looks thirty now, and her face is thin anddrawn--but I don't say all for love of Taplin."

  "That will all wear off by and by," said the skipper confidently.

  "Yes," I thought, "and she won't be a widow long."

  * * * * *

  Next morning Nerida had an hour or two among the prints and muslin inthe trade-room, and there was something of the old beauty about herwhen she sat down to breakfast with us. We were to sail at noon. Theleak had been stopped, and Packenham was in high good-humour.

  "Nerida," I inquired unthinkingly, "do you know what became of theALIDA? She never turned up again."

  "Yes," she answered; "she is here, at the bottom of the lagoon. Willyou come and look at her?"

  After breakfast we lowered the dingy, the captain and I pulling. Neridasteered us out to the north end of the lagoon till we reached a spotwhere the water suddenly deepened. It was, in fact, a deep pool, somethree or four hundred feet in diameter, closed in by a continuous wallof coral rock, the top of which, even at low water, would be perhapstwo or three fathoms under the surface.

  She held up her hands for us to back water, then she gazed over theside into the water.

  "Look," she said, "there lies the ALIDA."

  * * * * *

  We bent over the side of the boat. The waters of the lagoon were assmooth as glass and as clear. We saw two slender rounded columns thatseemed to shoot up in a slanting direction from out the vague, bluedepths beneath, to within four or five fathoms of the surface of thewater. Swarms of gorgeously-hued fish swam and circled in and about themasses of scarlet and golden weed that clothed the columns from theirtops downward, and swayed gently to and fro as they glided in and out.

  A hawk-bill turtle, huge, black, and misshapen, slid out from beneaththe dark ledge of the reef, and swam slowly across the pool, and then,between the masts, sank to the bottom.

  "'Twas six years ago," said Nerida, as we raised our heads.

  That night, as the PALESTINE sped noiselessly before the trade wind tothe westward she told me, in the old Funafuti tongue, the tragedy ofthe ALIDA.

  * * * * *

  "The schooner," she said, "sailed very quickly, for on the fifteenthday out from Funafuti we saw the far-off peaks of Strong's Island. Iwas glad, for Kusaie is not many days' sail from Ponape--and I hated tobe on the ship. The man with the blue eyes filled me with fear when helooked at me; and he and the captain and mate were for ever talkingamongst themselves in whispers.

  "There were five native sailors on board--two were countrymen of mine,and three were Tafitos [Natives of the Gilbert Islands].

  "One night we were close to a little island called Mokil [Duperrey'sIsland], and Taplin and I were awakened by a loud cry on deck; my twocountrymen were calling on him to help them. He sprang on deck, pistolin hand, and, behold! the schooner was laid to the wind with the landclose to, and the boat alongside, and the three white men were bindingmy country-men with ropes, because they would not get into the boat.

  "'Help us, O friend!' they called to my husband in their own tongue;'the white men say that if we go not ashore here at Mokil they willkill us. Help us--for they mean evil to thee and Nerida. He with theyellow moustache wants her for his wife.'

  "There were quick, fierce words, and then my husband struck Motley onthe head with his pistol and felled him, and then pointed it at themate and the captain, and made them untie the men, and called to thetwo Tafito sailors who were in the boat to let her tow astern tillmorning.

  "His face was white with the rage that burned in him, and all thatnight he walked to and fro and let me sleep on the deck near him.

  "'To-morrow,' he said, 'I will make this captain land us on Mokil;' itwas for that he would not let the sailors come up from the boat.

  "At dawn I slept soundly. Then I awoke with a cry of fear, for I hearda shot, and then a groan, and my husband fell across me, and the bloodpoured out of his mouth and ran down my arms and neck. I struggled torise, and he tried to draw his pistol, but the man with yellow hair andblue eyes, who stood over him, stabbed him twice in the back. Then thecaptain and mate seized him by the arms and lifted him up. As his headfell back I saw there was blood streaming from a hole in his chest."

  She ceased, and leant her cheek against the face of the little girl,who looked in childish wonder at the tears that streamed down hermother's face.

  * * * * *

  "They cast him over into the sea with life yet in him, and ere he sank,Motley (that devil with the blue eyes) stood with one foot on the railand fired another shot, and laughed when he saw the bullet strike. Thenhe and the other two talked.

  "'Let us finish these Pelew men, ere mischief come of it,' saidRiedermann, the captain.

  "But the others dissuaded him. There was time enough, they said, tokill them. And if they killed them now, there would be but threesailors to work the ship. And Motley looked at me and laughed, and saidhe, for one, would do no sailor's work yet awhile.

  "Then they all trooped below, and took me with them--me, with myhusband's blood not yet dried on my hands and bosom. They made me getliquor for them to drink, and they drank and laughed, and Motley puthis bloodied hand around my waist and kissed me, and the others laughedstill more.

  "In a little while Riedermann and the mate were so drunken that nowords came from them, and they fell on the cabin floor. Then Motley,who could stand, but staggered as he walked, came and sat beside me andkissed me again, and said he had always loved me; but I pointed to theblood of my husband that stained my skin and clotted my hair together,and besought him to first let me wash it away.

  "'Wash it there,' he said, and pointed to his cabin.

  "'Nay,' said I, 'see my hair. Let me then go on deck, and I can pourwater over my head.'

  "But he held my hand tightly as we came up, and my heart died withinme; for it was in my mind to spring overboard and follow my husband.

  "He called to one of the Tafito men to bring water, but none came; forthey, too, were drunken with liquor they had stolen from the hold,where there was plenty in red cases and white cases--gin and brandy."But my two countrymen were sober; one of them steered the ship, andthe other stood beside him with an axe in his hand, for they feared theTafito men, who are devils when they drink grog.

  "'Get some water,' said Motley, to Juan--he who held the axe; and as hebrought it, he said, 'How is it, tattooed dog, that thou art so slow tomove?' and he struck him in the teeth, and as he struck he fell.

  "Ah! that was my time! Ere he could rise I sprang at him, and Juanraised the axe and struck off his right foot; and then Liro, the manwho steered, handed me his knife. It was a sharp knife, and I stabbedhim, even as he had stabbed my husband, till my arm was tired, and allmy hate of him had died away in my heart.

  * * * * *

  "There was quick work then. My two countrymen went below into the cabinand took Motley's pistol from the table; ... then I heard two shots.

  "GUK! He was a fat, heavy man, that Riedermann, the captain; the threeof us could scarce drag him up on deck and cast him over the side, withthe other two.

  "Then Juan and Liro talked, and said: 'Now for these Tafito men; they,too, must die.' They brought up rifles, and went to the forepart of theschooner, where the Tafito men lay in a drunken sleep, and shot themdead.

  "In two more days we saw land--the island we have left but now, andbecause that there were no people living there--only empty houses couldwe see--Juan and Liro sailed the schooner into the lagoon.

  "We took such things on shore as we needed, and then Juan and Liro cutaway the topmasts and towed the schooner to the deep pool, where theymade holes in her, so that she sank, away out of the sight of men.

  * * * * *

  "Juan and Liro were kind to me,
and when my child was born, five monthsafter we landed, they cared for me tenderly, so that I soon becamestrong and well.

  "Only two ships did we ever see, but they passed far-off like cloudsupon the sea-rim; and we thought to live and die there by ourselves.Then there came a ship, bringing back the people who had once livedthere. They killed Juan and Liro, but let me and the child live. Therest I have told you.... How is this captain named? ... He is ahandsome man, and I like him."

  * * * * *

  We landed Nerida at Yap, in the Western Carolines. A year afterwards,when I left the PALESTINE, I heard that Packenham had given up the sea,was trading in the Pelew Group, and was permanently married, and thathis wife was the only survivor of the ill-fated ALIDA.