Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (838 page)

Such is the portrait of the uncle drawn by the nephew.  I can set beside it another by a different artist, who has often - I may say always - delighted me with his romantic taste in narrative, but not always - and I may say not often - persuaded me of his exactitude.  I have already denied myself the use of so much excellent matter from the same source, that I begin to think it time to reward good resolution; and his account of Tembinatake agrees so well with the king’s, that it may very well be (what I hope it is) the record of a fact, and not (what I suspect) the pleasing exercise of an imagination more than sailorly.  A., for so I had perhaps better call him, was walking up the island after dusk, when he came on a lighted village of some size, was directed to the chief’s house, and asked leave to rest and smoke a pipe.  ‘You will sit down, and smoke a pipe, and wash, and eat, and sleep,’ replied the chief, ‘and to-morrow you will go again.’  Food was brought, prayers were held (for this was in the brief day of Christianity), and the chief himself prayed with eloquence and seeming sincerity.  All evening A. sat and admired the man by the firelight.  He was six feet high, lean, with the appearance of many years, and an extraordinary air of breeding and command.  ‘He looked like a man who would kill you laughing,’ said A., in singular echo of one of the king’s expressions.  And again: ‘I had been reading the Musketeer books, and he reminded me of Aramis.’  Such is the portrait of Tembinatake, drawn by an expert romancer.

We had heard many tales of ‘my patha’; never a word of my uncle till two days before we left.  As the time approached for our departure Tembinok’ became greatly changed; a softer, a more melancholy, and, in particular, a more confidential man appeared in his stead.  To my wife he contrived laboriously to explain that though he knew he must lose his father in the course of nature, he had not minded nor realised it till the moment came; and that now he was to lose us he repeated the experience.  We showed fireworks one evening on the terrace.  It was a heavy business; the sense of separation was in all our minds, and the talk languished.  The king was specially affected, sat disconsolate on his mat, and often sighed.  Of a sudden one of the wives stepped forth from a cluster, came and kissed him in silence, and silently went again.  It was just such a caress as we might give to a disconsolate child, and the king received it with a child’s simplicity.  Presently after we said good-night and withdrew; but Tembinok’ detained Mr. Osbourne, patting the mat by his side and saying: ‘Sit down.  I feel bad, I like talk.’  Osbourne sat down by him.  ‘You like some beer?’ said he; and one of the wives produced a bottle.  The king did not partake, but sat sighing and smoking a meerschaum pipe.  ‘I very sorry you go,’ he said at last.  ‘Miss Stlevens he good man, woman he good man, boy he good man; all good man.  Woman he smart all the same man.  My woman’ (glancing towards his wives) ‘he good woman, no very smart.  I think Miss Stlevens he is chiep all the same cap’n man-o-wa’.  I think Miss Stlevens he rich man all the same me.  All go schoona.  I very sorry.  My patha he go, my uncle he go, my cutcheons he go, Miss Stlevens he go: all go.  You no see king cry before.  King all the same man: feel bad, he cry.  I very sorry.’

In the morning it was the common topic in the village that the king had wept.  To me he said: ‘Last night I no can ‘peak: too much here,’ laying his hand upon his bosom.  ‘Now you go away all the same my pamily.  My brothers, my uncle go away.  All the same.’  This was said with a dejection almost passionate.  And it was the first time I had heard him name his uncle, or indeed employ the word.  The same day he sent me a present of two corselets, made in the island fashion of plaited fibre, heavy and strong.  One had been worn by Teñkoruti, one by Tembaitake; and the gift being gratefully received, he sent me, on the return of his messengers, a third - that of Tembinatake.  My curiosity was roused; I begged for information as to the three wearers; and the king entered with gusto into the details already given.  Here was a strange thing, that he should have talked so much of his family, and not once mentioned that relative of whom he was plainly the most proud.  Nay, more: he had hitherto boasted of his father; thenceforth he had little to say of him; and the qualities for which he had praised him in the past were now attributed where they were due, - to the uncle.  A confusion might be natural enough among islanders, who call all the sons of their grandfather by the common name of father.  But this was not the case with Tembinok’.  Now the ice was broken the word uncle was perpetually in his mouth; he who had been so ready to confound was now careful to distinguish; and the father sank gradually into a self-complacent ordinary man, while the uncle rose to his true stature as the hero and founder of the race.

The more I heard and the more I considered, the more this mystery of Tembinok’s behaviour puzzled and attracted me.  And the explanation, when it came, was one to strike the imagination of a dramatist.  Tembinok’ had two brothers.  One, detected in private trading, was banished, then forgiven, lives to this day in the island, and is the father of the heir-apparent, Paul.  The other fell beyond forgiveness.  I have heard it was a love-affair with one of the king’s wives, and the thing is highly possible in that romantic archipelago.  War was attempted to be levied; but Tembinok’ was too swift for the rebels, and the guilty brother escaped in a canoe.  He did not go alone.  Tembinatake had a hand in the rebellion, and the man who had gained a kingdom for a weakling brother was banished by that brother’s son.  The fugitives came to shore in other islands, but Tembinok’ remains to this day ignorant of their fate.

So far history.  And now a moment for conjecture.  Tembinok’ confused habitually, not only the attributes and merits of his father and his uncle, but their diverse personal appearance.  Before he had even spoken, or thought to speak, of Tembinatake, he had told me often of a tall, lean father, skilled in war, and his own schoolmaster in genealogy and island arts.  How if both were fathers, one natural, one adoptive?  How if the heir of Tembaitake, like the heir of Tembinok’ himself, were not a son, but an adopted nephew?  How if the founder of the monarchy, while he worked for his brother, worked at the same time for the child of his loins?        How if on the death of Tembaitake, the two stronger natures, father and son, king and kingmaker, clashed, and Tembinok’, when he drove out his uncle, drove out the author of his days?  Here is at least a tragedy four-square.

The king took us on board in his own gig, dressed for the occasion in the naval uniform.  He had little to say, he refused refreshments, shook us briefly by the hand, and went ashore again.  That night the palm-tops of Apemama had dipped behind the sea, and the schooner sailed solitary under the stars.

LETTERS FROM SAMOA

CONTENTS

LETTERS TO THE “TIMES,” “PALL MALL GAZETTE,” ETC.

I

II

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

III

IV

V

VI

VII

I

II

III

VIII

IX

X

LETTERS TO THE “TIMES,” “PALL MALL GAZETTE,” ETC.

I

TO THE EDITOR OF THE “TIMES”

Yacht “Casco,” Hawaiian Islands, Feb.
10, 1889.

Sir, — News from Polynesia is apt to come piecemeal, and thus fail of its effect, the first step being forgotten before the second comes to hand. For this reason I should like to be allowed to recapitulate a little of the past before I go on to illustrate the present extraordinary state of affairs in the Samoan Islands.

It is quite true that this group was largely opened up by German enterprise, and that the port of Apia is much the creation of the Godeffroys. So far the German case extends; no farther. Apia was governed till lately by a tripartite municipality, the American, English, and German Consuls, and one other representative of each of the three nations making up the body. To both America and Germany a harbour had been ceded. England, I believe, had no harbour, but that her position was quite equal to that of her neighbours one fact eloquently displays. Malietoa — then King of Samoa, now a prisoner on the Marshall Islands — offered to accept the supremacy of England. Unhappily for himself, his offer was refused, Her Majesty’s Government declaring, I am told, that they would prefer to see him independent. As he now wanders the territory of his island prison, under the guns of an Imperial war-ship,  his independence (if it still exist) must be confined entirely to his bosom.

Such was the former equal and pacific state of the three nations at Apia. It would be curious to tell at length by what steps of encroachment on the one side and weakness on the other the present reign of terror has been brought about; but my time before the mail departs is very short, your space is limited, and in such a history much must be only matter of conjecture. Briefly and roughly, then, there came a sudden change in the attitude of Germany. Another treaty was proposed to Malietoa and refused; the cause of the rebel Tamasese was invented or espoused; Malietoa was seized and deported, Tamasese installed, the tripartite municipality dissolved, the German Consul seated autocratically in its place, and the Hawaiian Embassy (sent by a Power of the same race to moderate among Samoans) dismissed with threats and insults. In the course of these events villages have been shelled, the German flag has been at least once substituted for the English, and the Stars and Stripes (only the other day) were burned at Matafatatele. On the day of the chase after Malietoa the houses of both English and Americans were violently entered by the Germans. Since the dissolution of the municipality English and Americans have paid their taxes into the hands of their own Consuls, where they accumulate, and the German representative, unrecognised and unsupported, rules single in Apia. I have had through my hands a file of Consular proclamations, the most singular reading — a state of war declared, all other authority but that of the German representative suspended, punishment (and the punishment of death in particular) liberally threatened. It is enough to make a man rub his eyes when he reads Colonel de Coetlogon’s protest and the high-handed rejoinder posted alongside of it the next day by Dr. Knappe. Who is Dr. Knappe, thus to make peace and war, deal in life and death, and close with a buffet the mouth of English Consuls? By what process known to diplomacy has he  risen from his one-sixth part of municipal authority to be the Bismarck of a Polynesian island? And what spell has been cast on the Cabinets of Washington and St. James’s, that Mr. Blacklock should have been so long left unsupported, and that Colonel de Coetlogon must bow his head under a public buffet?

I have not said much of the Samoans. I despair, in so short a space, to interest English readers in their wrongs; with the mass of people at home they will pass for some sort of cannibal islanders, with whom faith were superfluous, upon whom kindness might be partly thrown away. And, indeed, I recognise with gladness that (except as regards the captivity of Malietoa) the Samoans have had throughout the honours of the game. Tamasese, the German puppet, has had everywhere the under hand; almost none, except those of his own clan, have ever supported his cause, and even these begin now to desert him. “This is no Samoan war,” said one of them, as he transferred his followers and services to the new Malietoa — Mataafa; “this is a German war.” Mataafa, if he be cut off from Apia and the sea, lies inexpugnable in the foot-hills immediately behind with 5,000 warriors at his back. And beyond titles to a great deal of land, which they extorted in exchange for rifles and ammunition from the partisans of Tamasese, of all this bloodshed and bullying the Germans behold no profit. I have it by last advices that Dr. Knappe has approached the King privately with fair speeches, assuring him that the state of war, bombardments, and other evils of the day, are not at all directed at Samoans, but against the English and Americans; and that, when these are extruded, peace shall again smile on a German island. It can never be proved, but it is highly possible he may have said so; and, whether he said it or not, there is a sense in which the thing is true. Violence has not been found to succeed with the Samoans; with the two Anglo-Saxon Powers it has been found to work like a charm.

I conclude with two instances, one American, one English: —

First
. — Mr. Klein, an American journalist, was on the beach with Malietoa’s men on the night of the recent German defeat. Seeing the boats approach in the darkness, Mr. Klein hailed them and warned them of the Samoan ambush, and, by this innocent and humane step, made public the fact of his presence. Where much else is contested so much appears to be admitted (and, indeed, claimed) upon both sides. Mr. Klein is now accused of firing on the Germans and of advising the Samoans to fire, both of which he denies. He is accused, after the fight, of succouring only the wounded of Malietoa’s party; he himself declares that he helped both; and, at any rate, the offence appears a novel one, and the accusation threatens to introduce fresh dangers into Red Cross work. He was on the beach that night in the exercise of his profession. If he was with Malietoa’s men, which is the real gist of his offence, we who are not Germans may surely ask, Why not? On what ground is Malietoa a rebel? The Germans have not conquered Samoa that I ever heard of; they are there on treaty like their neighbours, and Dr. Knappe himself (in the eyes of justice) is no more than the one-sixth part of the town council of Apia. Lastly, Mr. Klein’s innocence stands very clearly proven by the openness with which he declared his presence. For all that, this gentleman lay for a considerable time, watched day and night by German sailors, a prisoner in the American Consulate; even after he had succeeded in running the gauntlet of the German guards, and making his escape in a canoe to the American warship
Nipsic
, he was imperiously redemanded from under his own flag, and it is probable his extradition is being already called for at Washington.