Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (449 page)

“Man devil, woman devil; too much devil,” said my friend.  “Stop there all-e-time.  Man he go there, no come back.”

I thought if this fellow was so well posted on devils and spoke of them so free, which is not common, I had better fish for a little information about myself and Uma.

“You think me one devil?” I asked.

“No think devil,” said he soothingly.  “Think all-e-same fool.”

“Uma, she devil?” I asked again.

“No, no; no devil.  Devil stop bush,” said the young man.

I was looking in front of me across the bay, and I saw the hanging front of the woods pushed suddenly open, and Case, with a gun in his hand, step forth into the sunshine on the black beach.  He was got up in light pyjamas, near white, his gun sparkled, he looked mighty conspicuous; and the land-crabs scuttled from all round him to their holes.

“Hullo, my friend!” says I, “you no talk all-e-same true.  Ese he go, he come back.”

“Ese no all-e-same; Ese
Tiapolo
,” says my friend; and, with a “Good-bye,” slunk off among the trees.

I watched Case all round the beach, where the tide was low; and let him pass me on the homeward way to Falesá.  He was in deep thought, and the birds seemed to know it, trotting quite near him on the sand, or wheeling and calling in his ears.  When he passed me I could see by the working of his lips that he was talking to himself, and what pleased me mightily, he had still my trade mark on his brow, I tell you the plain truth: I had a mind to give him a gunful in his ugly mug, but I thought better of it.

All this time, and all the time I was following home, I kept repeating that native word, which I remembered by “Polly, put the kettle on and make us all some tea,” tea-a-pollo.

“Uma,” says I, when I got back, “what does
Tiapolo
mean?”

“Devil,” says she.

“I thought
aitu
was the word for that,” I said.

“
Aitu
‘nother kind of devil,” said she; “stop bush, eat Kanaka.  Tiapolo big chief devil, stop home; all-e-same Christian devil.”

“Well then,” said I, “I’m no farther forward.  How can Case be Tiapolo?”

“No all-e-same,” said she.  “Ese belong Tiapolo; Tiapolo too much like; Ese all-e-same his son.  Suppose Ese he wish something, Tiapolo he make him.”

“That’s mighty convenient for Ese,” says I.  “And what kind of things does he make for him?”

Well, out came a rigmarole of all sorts of stories, many of which (like the dollar he took from Mr. Tarleton’s head) were plain enough to me, but others I could make nothing of; and the thing that most surprised the Kanakas was what surprised me least — namely, that he would go in the desert among all the
aitus
.  Some of the boldest, however, had accompanied him, and had heard him speak with the dead and give them orders, and, safe in his protection, had returned unscathed.  Some said he had a church there, where he worshipped Tiapolo, and Tiapolo appeared to him; others swore that there was no sorcery at all, that he performed his miracles by the power of prayer, and the church was no church, but a prison, in which he had confined a dangerous
aitu
.  Namu had been in the bush with him once, and returned glorifying God for these wonders.  Altogether, I began to have a glimmer of the man’s position, and the means by which he had acquired it, and, though I saw he was a tough nut to crack, I was noways cast down.

“Very well,” said I, “I’ll have a look at Master Case’s place of worship myself, and we’ll see about the glorifying.”

At this Uma fell in a terrible taking; if I went in the high bush I should never return; none could go there but by the protection of Tiapolo.

“I’ll chance it on God’s,” said I.  “I’m a good sort of a fellow, Uma, as fellows go, and I guess God’ll con me through.”

She was silent for a while.  “I think,” said she, mighty solemn — and then, presently — ”Victoreea, he big chief?”

“You bet!” said I.

“He like you too much?” she asked again.

I told her, with a grin, I believed the old lady was rather partial to me.

“All right,” said she.  “Victoreea he big chief, like you too much.  No can help you here in Falesá; no can do — too far off.  Maea he small chief — stop here.  Suppose he like you — make you all right.  All-e-same God and Tiapolo.  God he big chief — got too much work.  Tiapolo he small chief — he like too much make-see, work very hard.”

“I’ll have to hand you over to Mr. Tarleton,” said I.  “Your theology’s out of its bearings, Uma.”

However, we stuck to this business all the evening, and, with the stories she told me of the desert and its dangers, she came near frightening herself into a fit.  I don’t remember half a quarter of them, of course, for I paid little heed; but two come back to me kind of clear.

About six miles up the coast there is a sheltered cove they call
Fanga-anaana
— ”the haven full of caves.”  I’ve seen it from the sea myself, as near as I could get my boys to venture in; and it’s a little strip of yellow sand.  Black cliffs overhang it, full of the black mouths of caves; great trees overhang the cliffs, and dangle-down lianas; and in one place, about the middle, a big brook pours over in a cascade.  Well, there was a boat going by here, with six young men of Falesá, “all very pretty,” Uma said, which was the loss of them.  It blew strong, there was a heavy head sea, and by the time they opened Fanga-anaana, and saw the white cascade and the shady beach, they were all tired and thirsty, and their water had run out.  One proposed to land and get a drink, and, being reckless fellows, they were all of the same mind except the youngest.  Lotu was his name; he was a very good young gentleman, and very wise; and he held out that they were crazy, telling them the place was given over to spirits and devils and the dead, and there were no living folk nearer than six miles the one way, and maybe twelve the other.  But they laughed at his words, and, being five to one, pulled in, beached the boat, and landed.  It was a wonderful pleasant place, Lotu said, and the water excellent.  They walked round the beach, but could see nowhere any way to mount the cliffs, which made them easier in their mind; and at last they sat down to make a meal on the food they had brought with them.  They were scarce set, when there came out of the mouth of one of the black caves six of the most beautiful ladies ever seen: they had flowers in their hair, and the most beautiful breasts, and necklaces of scarlet seeds; and began to jest with these young gentlemen, and the young gentlemen to jest back with them, all but Lotu.  As for Lotu, he saw there could be no living woman in such a place, and ran, and flung himself in the bottom of the boat, and covered his face, and prayed.  All the time the business lasted Lotu made one clean break of prayer, and that was all he knew of it, until his friends came back, and made him sit up, and they put to sea again out of the bay, which was now quite desert, and no word of the six ladies.  But, what frightened Lotu most, not one of the five remembered anything of what had passed, but they were all like drunken men, and sang and laughed in the boat, and skylarked.  The wind freshened and came squally, and the sea rose extraordinary high; it was such weather as any man in the islands would have turned his back to and fled home to Falesá; but these five were like crazy folk, and cracked on all sail and drove their boat into the seas.  Lotu went to the bailing; none of the others thought to help him, but sang and skylarked and carried on, and spoke singular things beyond a man’s comprehension, and laughed out loud when they said them.  So the rest of the day Lotu bailed for his life in the bottom of the boat, and was all drenched with sweat and cold sea-water; and none heeded him.  Against all expectation, they came safe in a dreadful tempest to Papa-malulu, where the palms were singing out, and the cocoa-nuts flying like cannon-balls about the village green; and the same night the five young gentlemen sickened, and spoke never a reasonable word until they died.

“And do you mean to tell me you can swallow a yarn like that?” I asked.

She told me the thing was well known, and with handsome young men alone it was even common; but this was the only case where five had been slain the same day and in a company by the love of the women-devils; and it had made a great stir in the island, and she would be crazy if she doubted.

“Well, anyway,” says I, “you needn’t be frightened about me.  I’ve no use for the women-devils.  You’re all the women I want, and all the devil too, old lady.”

To this she answered there were other sorts, and she had seen one with her own eyes.  She had gone one day alone to the next bay, and, perhaps, got too near the margin of the bad place.  The boughs of the high bush overshadowed her from the cant of the hill, but she herself was outside on a flat place, very stony and growing full of young mummy-apples four and five feet high.  It was a dark day in the rainy season, and now there came squalls that tore off the leaves and sent them flying, and now it was all still as in a house.  It was in one of these still times that a whole gang of birds and flying foxes came pegging out of the bush like creatures frightened.  Presently after she heard a rustle nearer hand, and saw, coming out of the margin of the trees, among the mummy-apples, the appearance of a lean grey old boar.  It seemed to think as it came, like a person; and all of a sudden, as she looked at it coming, she was aware it was no boar but a thing that was a man with a man’s thoughts.  At that she ran, and the pig after her, and as the pig ran it holla’d aloud, so that the place rang with it.

“I wish I had been there with my gun,” said I.  “I guess that pig would have holla’d so as to surprise himself.”

But she told me a gun was of no use with the like of these, which were the spirits of the dead.

Well, this kind of talk put in the evening, which was the best of it; but of course it didn’t change my notion, and the next day, with my gun and a good knife, I set off upon a voyage of discovery.  I made, as near as I could, for the place where I had seen Case come out; for if it was true he had some kind of establishment in the bush I reckoned I should find a path.  The beginning of the desert was marked off by a wall, to call it so, for it was more of a long mound of stones.  They say it reaches right across the island, but how they know it is another question, for I doubt if anyone has made the journey in a hundred years, the natives sticking chiefly to the sea and their little colonies along the coast, and that part being mortal high and steep and full of cliffs.  Up to the west side of the wall, the ground has been cleared, and there are cocoa palms and mummy-apples and guavas, and lots of sensitive plants.  Just across, the bush begins outright; high bush at that, trees going up like the masts of ships, and ropes of liana hanging down like a ship’s rigging, and nasty orchids growing in the forks like funguses.  The ground where there was no underwood looked to be a heap of boulders.  I saw many green pigeons which I might have shot, only I was there with a different idea.  A number of butterflies flopped up and down along the ground like dead leaves; sometimes I would hear a bird calling, sometimes the wind overhead, and always the sea along the coast.

But the queerness of the place it’s more difficult to tell of, unless to one who has been alone in the high bush himself.  The brightest kind of a day it is always dim down there.  A man can see to the end of nothing; whichever way he looks the wood shuts up, one bough folding with another like the fingers of your hand; and whenever he listens he hears always something new — men talking, children laughing, the strokes of an axe a far way ahead of him, and sometimes a sort of a quick, stealthy scurry near at hand that makes him jump and look to his weapons.  It’s all very well for him to tell himself that he’s alone, bar trees and birds; he can’t make out to believe it; whichever way he turns the whole place seems to be alive and looking on.  Don’t think it was Uma’s yarns that put me out; I don’t value native talk a fourpenny-piece; it’s a thing that’s natural in the bush, and that’s the end of it.

As I got near the top of the hill, for the ground of the wood goes up in this place steep as a ladder, the wind began to sound straight on, and the leaves to toss and switch open and let in the sun.  This suited me better; it was the same noise all the time, and nothing to startle.  Well, I had got to a place where there was an underwood of what they call wild cocoanut — mighty pretty with its scarlet fruit — when there came a sound of singing in the wind that I thought I had never heard the like of.  It was all very fine to tell myself it was the branches; I knew better.  It was all very fine to tell myself it was a bird; I knew never a bird that sang like that.  It rose and swelled, and died away and swelled again; and now I thought it was like someone weeping, only prettier; and now I thought it was like harps; and there was one thing I made sure of, it was a sight too sweet to be wholesome in a place like that.  You may laugh if you like; but I declare I called to mind the six young ladies that came, with their scarlet necklaces, out of the cave at Fanga-anaana, and wondered if they sang like that.  We laugh at the natives and their superstitions; but see how many traders take them up, splendidly educated white men, that have been book-keepers (some of them) and clerks in the old country.  It’s my belief a superstition grows up in a place like the different kind of weeds; and as I stood there and listened to that wailing I twittered in my shoes.

You may call me a coward to be frightened; I thought myself brave enough to go on ahead.  But I went mighty carefully, with my gun cocked, spying all about me like a hunter, fully expecting to see a handsome young woman sitting somewhere in the bush, and fully determined (if I did) to try her with a charge of duck-shot.  And sure enough, I had not gone far when I met with a queer thing.  The wind came on the top of the wood in a strong puff, the leaves in front of me burst open, and I saw for a second something hanging in a tree.  It was gone in a wink, the puff blowing by and the leaves closing.  I tell you the truth: I had made up my mind to see an
aitu
; and if the thing had looked like a pig or a woman, it wouldn’t have given me the same turn.  The trouble was that it seemed kind of square, and the idea of a square thing that was alive and sang knocked me sick and silly.  I must have stood quite a while; and I made pretty certain it was right out of the same tree that the singing came.  Then I began to come to myself a bit.