第7章 THE BEACH OF FALESA.(7)

"The priest?"says Case."O!he was hammering on the door outside,and crying on the natives to come and beat it in,and singing out it was a soul he wished to save,and that.He was in a rare taking,was the priest.But what would you have?Johnny had slipped his cable;no more Johnny in the market;and the administration racket clean played out.Next thing,word came to Randall the priest was praying upon Johnny's grave.Papa was pretty full,and got a club,and lit out straight for the place,and there was Galoshes on his knees,and a lot of natives looking on.You wouldn't think Papa cared -that much about anything,unless it was liquor;but he and the priest stuck to it two hours,slanging each other in native,and every time Galoshes tried to kneel down Papa went for him with the club.There never were such larks in Falesa.The end of it was that Captain Randall knocked over with some kind of a fit or stroke,and the priest got in his goods after all.But he was the angriest priest you ever heard of,and complained to the chiefs about the outrage,as he called it.

That was no account,for our chiefs are Protestant here;and,anyway,he had been making trouble about the drum for morning school,and they were glad to give him a wipe.Now he swears old Randall gave Adams poison or something,and when the two meet they grin at each other like baboons."He told this story as natural as could be,and like a man that enjoyed the fun;though,now I come to think of it after so long,it seems rather a sickening yarn.However,Case never set up to be soft,only to be square and hearty,and a man all round;and,to tell the truth,he puzzled me entirely.

I went home and asked Uma if she were a Popey,which I had made out to be the native word for Catholics.

"E LE AI!"says she.She always used the native when she meant "no"more than usually strong,and,indeed,there's more of it.

"No good Popey,"she added.

Then I asked her about Adams and the priest,and she told me much the same yarn in her own way.So that I was left not much farther on,but inclined,upon the whole,to think the bottom of the matter was the row about the sacrament,and the poisoning only talk.

The next day was a Sunday,when there was no business to be looked for.Uma asked me in the morning if I was going to "pray";I told her she bet not,and she stopped home herself with no more words.

I thought this seemed unlike a native,and a native woman,and a woman that had new clothes to show off;however,it suited me to the ground,and I made the less of it.The queer thing was that Icame next door to going to church after all,a thing I'm little likely to forget.I had turned out for a stroll,and heard the hymn tune up.You know how it is.If you hear folk singing,it seems to draw you;and pretty soon I found myself alongside the church.It was a little long low place,coral built,rounded off at both ends like a whale-boat,a big native roof on the top of it,windows without sashes and doorways without doors.I stuck my head into one of the windows,and the sight was so new to me -for things went quite different in the islands I was acquainted with -that I stayed and looked on.The congregation sat on the floor on mats,the women on one side,the men on the other,all rigged out to kill -the women with dresses and trade hats,the men in white jackets and shirts.The hymn was over;the pastor,a big buck Kanaka,was in the pulpit,preaching for his life;and by the way he wagged his hand,and worked his voice,and made his points,and seemed to argue with the folk,I made out he was a gun at the business.Well,he looked up suddenly and caught my eye,and Igive you my word he staggered in the pulpit;his eyes bulged out of his head,his hand rose and pointed at me like as if against his will,and the sermon stopped right there.

It isn't a fine thing to say for yourself,but I ran away;and if the same kind of a shock was given me,I should run away again tomorrow.To see that palavering Kanaka struck all of a heap at the mere sight of me gave me a feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of the world.I went right home,and stayed there,and said nothing.You might think I would tell Uma,but that was against my system.You might have thought I would have gone over and consulted Case;but the truth was I was ashamed to speak of such a thing,I thought everyone would blurt out laughing in my face.So I held my tongue,and thought all the more;and the more I thought,the less I liked the business.

By Monday night I got it clearly in my head I must be tabooed.Anew store to stand open two days in a village and not a man or woman come to see the trade was past believing.

"Uma,"said I,"I think I'm tabooed."

"I think so,"said she.

I thought awhile whether I should ask her more,but it's a bad idea to set natives up with any notion of consulting them,so I went to Case.It was dark,and he was sitting alone,as he did mostly,smoking on the stairs.

"Case,"said I,"here's a queer thing.I'm tabooed.""O,fudge!"says he;"'tain't the practice in these islands.""That may be,or it mayn't,"said I."It's the practice where Iwas before.You can bet I know what it's like;and I tell it you for a fact,I'm tabooed.""Well,"said he,"what have you been doing?"

"That's what I want to find out,"said I.

"O,you can't be,"said he;"it ain't possible.However,I'll tell you what I'll do.Just to put your mind at rest,I'll go round and find out for sure.Just you waltz in and talk to Papa.""Thank you,"I said,"I'd rather stay right out here on the verandah.Your house is so close.""I'll call Papa out here,then,"says he.

"My dear fellow,"I says,"I wish you wouldn't.The fact is,Idon't take to Mr.Randall."

Case laughed,took a lantern from the store,and set out into the village.He was gone perhaps a quarter of an hour,and he looked mighty serious when he came back.