by Louis Becke
THE WHITE WIFE AND THE BROWN 'WOMAN'
Masters, the trader at Fana 'alu, was walking up the beach to hishouse, reading a letter which he had just received from the captain of apassing vessel. It was from his employers in Sydney,--'We are confidentthat Mrs Masters and yourself will do all you can to render the lady'sstay at Fana 'alu agreeable to her. You will find her husband, our newsupercargo, a very fine fellow, easy to get on with, and a thoroughlyhonourable and conscientious business man.'
'Here, Melanie, old woman, where are you?' he called, as he flunghimself lazily into a cane lounge on the verandah.
Melanie, who, native-like, was combing her hair in the sitting-room,rose from the mat upon which she was sitting and came to the door.
'What is it, Tom?' she asked, leaning against the wall and drawing thecomb slowly through her long, black locks.
'Why, the barque will be here in another week or so, so this lettersays, and there's a _tamaitai papalagi_ (white lady) on board, and shewill very likely stay here with us while her husband, who is the newsupercargo, goes away in the ship to the Solomon Islands. He will comefor her again in about six weeks.'
* * * * *
Melanie's dark eyes glistened with pleasure. White women were rarevisitors at lonely Fana 'alu. Every year, it was true, when the Americanmissionary barque touched at the island, one, or sometimes two, whiteladies would come ashore; but they were missionaries' wives, and neverpassed inside the door of the trader's house to speak to his wife.That, in the eyes of the converted natives, would have been scandalous.Melanie might, if she so wished it, have called upon _them_ at thenative teacher's house, and paid homage afar off by sitting down on themats in the furthest corner of the house, while fat, greasy Lepeka,{*}the wife of the equally fat and greasy teacher Paulo, Christianlywhispered in the ears of the holy white ladies that that was the whiteman's 'woman'--who wasn't married to her 'husband.' And even a whitemissionary's wife must not offend the spouse of the native teacher. Sohad any of these ladies wished to talk to Melanie, they would have hadto make Lepeka their medium; for in some parts of the South Seas theusual position of vicar and curate is reversed, and the white visitingmissionary and his wife deliver themselves into the hands of the browncurate and his wife for the time being. Perhaps it is this that makesmost white missionaries so thin--the strain of having to submit to aKanaka teacher's ideas of conventionality must be pretty hard tobear. And so poor Melanie, who would have liked to have sat near thefair-faced, sweet-voiced white ladies, or, perhaps, fondled their hands,as did the young unmarried girls who always surrounded them, bore herlot with content. For once, when she had brought her simple _alofa_(gift of love) to the missionaries, and laid it timidly down on the matsin the centre of the room, one of the white ladies had smiled at her andsaid to her husband,--
'Oh, what a pretty girl, and how nicely she is dressed. Ask her to comehere and sit by me.'
* Rebecca.
But Melanie was quick to see Lepeka's dark frown, and discreetly retiredto her usual corner, at the back of the room, and when she went home toMasters, she did not chatter and laugh as usual when telling him of allshe had seen and heard at the teacher's house.
For, in her simple heart, there began to grow an unrest. She would feelbetter, she thought, when the mission ship had sailed away again, andshe would forget the kind smile of the missionary's wife, and forget,too, the sneering curl of Lepeka's fat lips. Three years before, whenTom Masters had picked her up in a dancing saloon in Apia and had askedher to come away with him to Fana 'alu as his wife, she had thought ofa marriage in the church, with its attendant mild excitements, andgluttonies of baked pig and fowls, and _palusami_ and other delicacies,and the receiving and giving of many presents. But when Masters--whopossessed a fragmentary conscience--told her why he could not marry her,she accepted the position calmly, and said it did not matter.
Perhaps, among the women of Fana 'alu, she stood highest in publicestimation, notwithstanding her bar sinister, for she was open-handedand generous, and both the chiefs wife and Lepeka, the teacher's grandlady, were of common blood--whilst she, despite her antecedents inApia, was of the best in Manono--the birthplace of the noble families ofSamoa.
* * * * *
So, as she stood there in the doorway, first combing and then plaitingher hair _a la Suisse_, she asked in her native tongue,--
'Is she young, Tom? Will she have hair of goldthread like that of thewife thou hadst in Sini{*} long ago--she who married another man?'
* Sydney.
Masters laughed. How could he tell! She might be young and fair; shemight be an _olomatua_ (an old woman), dried up and skinny. But thatwas none of their business. All that he and Melanie had to do was toentertain her well and make much of her.
'True,' said the placid-minded Melanie; 'and even if she be as ugly asan _aitu_ (devil), yet will that fat-faced pig Lepeka die with envy tosee a white lady a guest in my house. Would that I could send to Manonofor my three brothers, so that they might come here and get drunk, andbeat Paulo! I hate Paulo, even as I hate Lepeka, for they both speakevil of _me_, yet are for ever cringing to _thee_, taking eagerly thygifts of money to the church and the school and the mission fund, andyet whispering of me as the dancing-house whore.'
'Never mind that, old woman,' said Masters, softly, placing his handupon the girl's head. 'Next year we shall go away from Fana 'alu. Weshall go to Ponape, in the far, far north--away from these islands; nobitter tongues shall pain thy heart there.' Then, picking up his hat,he sauntered down to the beach again and stood watching his whale-boatbeing hauled up into the boat-shed by her native crew.
'_Like the wife he once had in Sydney, long ago._'
He lit his pipe, and began to pace to and fro on the sandy path underthe cool shade of the coco-palms and bread-fruit trees, thinking of anincident of his past life, which, although six long years had passed,neither his subsequent wanderings in many lands, nor his three latteryears' monotonously happy and lazy existence with Melanie at Fana 'alu,had yet quite banished from his memory. And the chance question put tohim half an hour before had brought back to him a vision of the slender,blue-eyed and golden-haired woman who was the partner of his firstmatrimonial venture.
They had in the beginning led a turtle-dovey kind of life in those olddays on the shores of Port Jackson. Not long after their marriage theshipping firm in which he was employed failed, and he had to seek foranother billet; and, being an energetic, self-reliant man, with nofalse pride, he shipped as steward on board the _Noord Brabant_, ahogged-backed, heartbroken and worn-out American lumber ship runningbetween Puget Sound and the Australian colonies. His wife had cried alittle at first; but he told her that no one but their two selves wouldknow, and it was better for him to be earning five pounds a month thanidling about in Sydney.
On board the crazy old barque he found an acquaintance, who soon becamea friend. This was the second mate--another Sydney man--who had shippedon the _Noord Brabant_ because berths on good ships were scarce andmates and skippers were plentiful. So the two men, while the ship wasbeing patched up for her long voyage across the Pacific, spent theirevenings together at Masters's house.
Harry Laurance--that was the second mate's name--was a fine, handsomeman, with clear, honest eyes and a merry, infectious laugh, and thoseevenings at his friend's house were a source of unalloyed happinessto him, for from his boyhood he had known no home except a ship or asqualid boarding-house.
One night, as the three sat together in Masters's little four-roomedcottage, and Nellie Masters had ceased playing upon the rattlingfifteen-guinea box of discord called a piano, the three made plans forthe future. When they--Masters and Laurance--returned from Puget Sound,they were not to part. Laurance, who had had long experience in theIsland trade, had saved a little money--not much (as he told Masters oneday when he placed ten sovereigns in the latter's hand, and asked himto accept it as a loan for his wife's sake), but nearly enough
to buy alittle thirty-ton vessel he knew of which was for sale, and which wouldbe just the craft to run on trading voyages from New Zealand among theislands of the Gambier Group--if they could load her with trade goods.And he knew a man in Puget Sound who, he thought, would lend him afew hundreds, and take a third share in the venture. Then, when he andMasters returned from the impending voyage to Sydney, they, with MrsMasters, would go over to Auckland, buy the schooner and the tradegoods, and then sail for Manga Reva in the Gambier Group, where Mastersand his wife were to buy a bit of land and put up a trading station,whilst Laurance ran the little vessel to and fro among the variousislands of the group, and brought back pearl shell and copra for saleto the big German firm in Tahiti. And Masters's pretty wife smiledjoyously. She did not like to be parted from Tom for nearly sevenmonths; but seven months was not a lifetime--and then they would be sohappy, away from the grinding poverty of their existence in Sydney.
* * * * *
Dreams! Six weeks afterwards, as the old _Noord Brabant_ lay groaningover on her beam ends, thrashing her canvas to ribbons in a fierce nightsquall off Beveridge Reef, Tom Masters, hurrying on deck to helpthe hands shorten sail, was knocked overboard by the parting of thespanker-boom guy, and disappeared without a cry, into the seething boilto leeward.
For two hours--after the squall had ceased, and Masters was missed--theboat searched for him under the bright rays of a silvery moon and aclear, cloudless sky. But every now and then rain fell heavily, andthough the boat rowed round and round the ship within a radius of two orthree miles no answering cry came to the repeated hails of the crew.So then the _Noord Brabant_ stood away again on her course, and HarryLaurance lay awake all his watch below, thinking sadly of his friend andof the dreadful shock which awaited the young wife in Sydney.
But Tom Masters did not drown. When he came to the surface of the waterhe found himself floating among the _debris_ of the quarter-boat,which, when the spanker-boom guy parted and the heavy spar swung overto leeward, had swept the after-davit out of its socket and let the boathang, stern down, by the for'ard fall, until the labouring old barque,raising her stern high out of the water, smashed down upon it as itdragged under her counter and tore out the for'ard ringbolt.
Half-stunned by the force of the blow which he had received on the backof his head from the spanker-boom when it swept him overboard, Masterswas yet able to swim to the wreckage of the boat which he saw floatingnear him, and, clinging to the after part of the keel, he saw thecabin lights of the Noord Brabant shining brightly through the square,old-fashioned ports for a minute or two, and heard the cries of hercrew as the sails were clewed up and furled. Then a sharp, hissing rainsquall hid her from view in a thick white mist, and, with agony anddespair in his heart, he gave up all hope of life, knowing that the onlyother boat was turned bottom up on the main hatch of the barque, andthat the ship was only half-manned by a scratch crew of long-shoreloafers.
But it so happened that when the _Noord Brabant_, close-hauled to clearBeveridge Reef, was thrown on her beam ends by the violence of thesquall, the whaling schooner _John Bright_ was rolling easily alongbefore it under shortened canvas, and the cook of the schooner, as hestood on the foc'scle, smoking his pipe, caught a sight of floatingwreckage right ahead, with the indistinct figure of a man clinging toit, and bawled out 'Hard a-port!' just in time, or else the schoonerhad run right on top of the drifting boat and finished this tale and TomMasters as well.
But boats are lowered quickly on an American whale-ship--quicker thanon any other ship afloat--and in less than ten minutes Tom Masters waspicked up and, in face of a blinding rain squall, brought on board the_John Bright_. Then a long illness--almost death.
Three months afterwards, as the schooner was slowly crawling along overthe North Pacific towards Honolulu, she spoke a timber ship bound to theAustralian colonies from Port Townsend in Puget Sound; and Masters, nowrecovering from the terrible shock he had received, went on board andasked the captain to let him work his passage. But the Yankee skipper ofthe lumber ship did not seem to like the idea of having to feed sucha hollow-eyed, gaunt-looking being for another six weeks or so, andrefused his request. And so Masters, in a dulled, apathetic sort of waywent back to the _John Bright_, climbed up her side, and, with despairin his heart, lay down in his bunk and tried to sleep, never knowingthat, half an hour before, when he was speaking to the captain of thelumberman, a letter to his wife from Laurance lay in a locker not threefeet away from him, telling her of her husband's death at sea and hisown heartfelt sorrow and sympathy.
And Laurance was honest and genuine in his sympathy. He had had a warmfeeling of friendship for Tom Masters, and his heart was filled withpity for the poor little wife left alone without a friend in the world.He had tried to express himself clearly in his letter, but all thatNellie Masters could understand was that Tom had been drowned at sea,that Laurance would be back in Sydney in a month or two and give her allparticulars, and that she was not utterly friendless and alone in theworld.
Within a month of Harry Laurance's return she began to think more of himand of his goodness to her, than of her dead husband--and then gratitudebecame love. She was only a poor little woman, and of a weakly,irresolute nature, unable to think for herself, and unfitted to battlealone with the world and poverty. So one day when Laurance, whose bigheart was full of love and pity for her, asked her to be his wife, shegave him a happy smile and said 'Yes.' Before a second month had passedthey were quietly married.
Masters, meanwhile, had been pursued by the demon of ill-luck. When theschooner reached Honolulu, he, a mere wreck, physically and mentally, ofhis former self, had been carried ashore to the hospital, and was makinga slow recovery, when the Sydney whaling brig, _Wild Wave_ came intoport with some of her crew injured by a boat accident. One of the menwas placed in a bed next to that occupied by Masters, and one day hiscaptain came to see him and brought him some colonial newspapers whichhad just arrived.
'Here, mate,' said the sailor, tossing one of the papers over toMasters, 'you're a Sydney man, and there's a Sydney newspaper.'
Masters took up the paper, and the first lines he read were these:--
'Laurance--Masters. On the 10th inst., at the Scots Church, Church Hill,Henry A. Laurance to Helen, widow of the late Thomas Masters.'
Possibly, had he been well enough to have returned to Sydney, he wouldhave gone back and made three persons' lives unhappy. But, although anEnglishman, he had not the rigidly conventional idea that the divorcecourt was part of the machinery of the Wrath of God against women whounknowingly committed bigamy, and ought to be availed of by injuredhusbands. So, instead of having a relapse, he pulled himself together,left the hospital, and got placidly drunk, and concluded, when he becamesober, not to disturb them.
'I suppose neither of them is to blame,' he thought. 'How were eitherof them to know that I was not drowned?... And then poor little Nell hadonly ten shillings a week to live upon until I came back.'
Still, he would have been better pleased had Harry Laurance been astranger to him--no man cares to know his successor in such a matter.By-and-by he worked his passage to Samoa, where, under the assumed nameof Tom Patterson, he soon found employment. Then one night he went intoCharley the Russian's saloon--and met Melanie.
And now he was settled down at Fana 'alu, was doing well as a trader,and had acquired, in all its intensity, the usual dislike to the idea ofever going back to the world again, common enough to men of his naturein Polynesia. Besides that, Melanie understood him and he understoodher. She was as open and honest as the day, worked hard for him in hisstore, and was sincerely attached to him. So he was well content.
* * * * *
There was much commotion in the village when the trading barque arrivedand lay-to off Fana 'alu. Melanie, in a dress of spotless white muslin,flitted to and fro within the house, smoking cigarettes and cursing herwomen assistants' laziness and stupidity. Masters, it so happened, wasaway in
his boat at another village along the coast, and pretty Melaniewas in a state of nervous trepidation at the thought of having to meetthe English lady alone. What should she do? What should she say? HerEnglish was scant but vigorous, having mostly been acquired fromthe merchant skippers, who, in her--to put it nicely--maiden days,frequented the dance house of 'Charley the Russian' in Apia, and she wasconning over the problem of whether she should address her coming guestin that language or not. Her child, a little girl of two, followed hermother's movements with intense curiosity; and presently a bevy of youngnative girls swarmed into the room with the news that the boat had comeashore, and that the white lady and her husband had landed and werenow walking up to the house. Then Mrs Masters Number Two pulled herselftogether and, throwing away her cigarette, went to the door and, with agraceful, modest demeanour and a timid, bashful smile, held out her handto a lovely being with big, bright blue eyes and thick masses of hair ofshining gold. Beside this--to Melanie--glorious vision of beauty, stoodthe husband--a big, black-moustached and bronze-feced man, who stoopedas he entered the door of the trader's house, and said good-naturedly toher,--
'Glad to meet you, Mrs Patterson. Will your husband be long before hereturns?'
'I don' know, sir,' answered Melanie. 'He hav' gone to Pitofanua. Buthe will come ver' quick when he know that the ship hav' come.' Then,trembling with pleasurable excitement, she turned to the lady andindicated a low easy-chair, and said in Samoan,--
'Sit thou there, O lady;' and then in English, 'I can't speak Englis'very good sometimes. But my man will soon come.' Then she rememberedsomething. 'Please will you come into dis room here, which is been madeall ready for you, an' take off your hat;' and then she darted over toa side table, brought a glass and a bottle of whisky over to the lady'shusband; then, with a winning smile, timidly held out her brown hand toher guest, and led her into the bedroom.
The new supercargo helped himself to a nip of whisky and then sat down,his keen business eye taking in the order and cleanliness of the room.In a few minutes his wife came out.
'Hang these traders, Nell! Why isn't this fellow here to meet me? He hadno business to go away from his station when the ship was due. However,he has jolly nice quarters, and so we'll make ourselves comfortableuntil he turns up. I think you'll like this place, Nell, and won't findit tedious whilst I'm away at the Solomons. Eh, pet?'
The White Lady nodded and smiled. 'Yes, Harry, but I'll miss youterribly to-morrow. Six weeks is a long time, dear.... Oh, Harry,do look--isn't she a lovely child?' And, bending down, she swept upMelanie's little girl in her arms and kissed her softly, and her eyessuddenly filled with tears.
'Yes,' said the supercargo, shortly, as, without looking at the child,he took some papers from his pocket and began to read. His and herhearts' desire had never been granted, and so he hated to look at thechild of another man.
'I wish this fellow would come,' he said presently, in an irritabletone, as he rose and walked to and fro.... Don't let that child paw youabout like that, Nell.... Hallo, here he is at last.'
Fanning his heated brow with his broad hat of pandanus leaf, the traderstood in the doorway.
'Good morning. I'm sorry I was away when you came--'
A cry, half scream and half sob, came from the supercargo's wife, as,still holding the child in her arms, she swayed to and fro, and Melaniesprang to her side.
'Oh, Harry, it is Tom!' she said.
Then she sank back and lay upon the matted floor, with her head pillowedupon Melanie's bosom; and the child wailed in terror.
'What the hell is the matter?' said the big supercargo, striding forwardto the trader and seizing him by the arm. Then he looked into Masters'sface. 'By God, Masters, is it _you_? As heaven is my judge, I swear toyou that we both thought you were dead!'
The trader's eyes met his in a long, searching glance, then turned towhere the unconscious, figure of the white woman lay, supported in thearms of Melanie, who, with affrighted eyes, gazed appealingly to themboth.
He reached out his hand to the other man. 'That's all right, Laurance.Let us go outside and talk. See, _your wife_ has fainted, but Melaniewill see to her.'
* * * * *
That night, whilst Masters and Laurance, cigars in mouth, were gravelypicking out the former's trade goods on board the _Palestine_ the WhiteLady and the Brown 'Woman' talked.
'Is you any better now?' said Melanie, as she caressingly ran her handdown the golden locks of Mrs Laurance.
A smothered sob was her answer, and the yellow head buried itself amongthe pillows of the couch.
Melanie turned away despairingly, and then lit a cigarette. What a foolwas this beautiful white woman--nothing but sob, sob, sob! What could bedone to dry her tears?
Presently the Brown 'Woman' slid her hand under the waist of the weepingWhite Lady, and pressed her cheek to hers.
'Don' you wan' to stay here now?'
'No, no, no! Let me go away. I wish I were dead!'
'What for?' and the philosophical Melanie sent two long streaks of smokethrough her nostrils. 'Why are you 'shamed? You have a husban' now, andyo' don' wan' to _faotane_, do you?'
'What is _faotane?_'
Melanie laughed. '_Faotane_ is Samoa language; it means stealing ahusban.... And yo' won' steal my husban' from me, will you? Yo' hav' gota new husban', and yo' won' take Tom from me, will yo'?'
Mrs Laurance sprang to her feet and placed her hands on the Brown'Woman's' shoulders.
'Tell me,' she said, 'did he ever talk of me?'
'Yes,' said the truthful Melanie. 'He tell me that yo' have hair likegold, and that your eye was blue like the sky.'
'No more?'
Melanie shook her black locks. 'No more. My man never talk too much. Youlike to eat some roast pigeon now?'
The White Lady turned her head aside and sobbed. 'And for a soullessbeing like this!' Then she remembered that Masters was not to blame, andwaited, trembling and sobbing, for the two men to return.
* * * * *
Masters, having finished his business on board the barque, held out hishand to Laurance.
'Good-bye, Harry. Nothing can be done. Tom Masters was drowned offBeveridge Reef years ago, and Harry Laurance married his widow; and TomPatterson is another man, who has a native wife, and--'
He wrung Laurance's hand, sprang up the companion-way and called tohis boat's crew,--
'Haul the boat alongside, boys. I'm going to Pito-fanua again; and youbeggars will have to pull like hell.... Good-bye, Harry, old fellow.Send your boat ashore for your wife... and God bless you both!'
