“Me killee Vituo; your white God no help me, will he?” she said. I gazed awhile and said: “Yes, He will, Mabau.” I would not have told this thundering lie but for the fact that her appealing eyes awoke the best that was in me, and it was my earnest wish to attempt to stay her from inflicting any vengeance on her sinful lover which might bring sorrow to her afterwards.
Encouraged by my kindness, and misunderstanding my gestures as I endeavoured to explain that she should pray to the Christian God instead of to the gods of her fathers, she suddenly lifted her arms and started to chant into the wooden ears of the old idol again. On her knees she went, swaying her body and arms gently all the while in the mystic, Mebete charms. She sang on earnestly, and I gazed, astonished to see the heathen age before my eyes and to feel my ear-drums vibrating to the primeval lore of the South Seas. Through the forest boughs just overhead crept the lingering rays of the dying sunset, and two golden streaks fell slantwise over the praying maid’s brown body, glimmering in her thick dark hair as her head moved to and fro while she chanted her despair.
“Mabau,” I said, “where does Vituo live? Why not go and find him, tell him of your love and offer your forgiveness; he will doubtless take you to his arms.” In truth I felt this might be, for she was a comely and pretty maid. At my saying this she answered in this wise: “O white mans, I long die and go to Nedengi, or Mburanto the great goddess, who love deceived maids and make gods of children.” Then, with a fierce look on her dark face, and with heaving bosom, she continued: “Mburanto will blow the breath of the big wind that will kill him, the wicked Vituo, and then him once dead will love me again, for good is his soul, though his body is whitish and wicked.” I saw the depth of her love flame in her eyes, and I answered: “Mabau, go home, and I will pray to the white God for you, and will see what can be done to bring this treacherous Vituo back to you again.” At this, with delight, she rose to her feet, her eyes and face shining and expressing pleasure at my promise; her sulu-cloth of woven coco-nut fibre revealed her trembling thighs as, with the impulsiveness of the Fijian temperament, she started to sing and do the equivalent of a step-dance.
As I stood there, and the shadows of night thickened, I heard a voice, and Mr Bones suddenly stepped from a clump of tall fern growth into the clearing where we stood. “What’s up?” he said, and I knew then that he had been watching the whole performance. Mabau, who knew him well, started off, with feminine vivacity, to tell him all her trouble. He knew her language, and so she was able swiftly to tell her tale. Now Bones, as I have said before, was a decent fellow, and he listened attentively all the while that she spoke. Then he turned towards me and said: “Vituo is a treacherous skunk, and if he plays her false I will see to it that he gets his deserts. Go home, Mabau, for old Kaifa will be suspicious of your being out this late hour.” Off she went, and I had not seen her again till this meeting by her parent Kaifa’s home, when I digressed to tell you that, notwithstanding her greeting me as though I were a stranger, nevertheless all that I have told you had happened between us.
The chief, as I said, gave me a friendly greeting. I had seen him once before, when he had called at Bones’s homestead and borrowed a mugful of rum. He was a genuine survival of the old cannibalistic days: though he had embraced Christianity as best calculated to serve his interests and requirements, for the Protestant and Roman Catholic ecclesiastics were very kind to him—he had embraced both the creeds—he still, deep in his heart, clung tenaciously to old memories and the heathen mythologies of his tribal ancestors.
By his side sat Mabau, busily weaving a new fringed sulu gown, with varied patterns decorating its scantiness; for it was the Fiji fashion to reveal as much as possible of the maid without her being accused of being absolutely nude. His only surviving wife was a full-blooded Fijian, and as I sat by his side she squatted on her haunches, busily blowing, with her thick-lipped mouth, the embers of a tiny fire that flickered into a thousand stars, to be scattered by her breath, as the evening meal spluttered.
Chief Kaifa could speak excellent English, and as I stayed on, and the hour became late, he told me many things of the old days, of dark beliefs and also of the mighty cannibalistic warrior, Thakambau. As he spoke, and the moon rose and lit the forest, his eyes brightened as the old splendour thrilled him, and Mabau, who sat by us alone, for the old wife had gone to bed in the hut near by, rested her chin on her hand and looked up with sparkling eyes, listening eagerly, and I saw who encouraged her and why she had prayed so earnestly to the old forest idol.
“O white mans,” he said, lifting his dusky arms as he spoke, “the old gods watch me to-night, and when I pass into shadow-land I shall be great chief, for am I not still faithful to them? Do I not cling to those who watched over my birth and gave me life?” As he spoke a strange bird screamed afar off in the forest palms, and with his dark finger to his lips he said: “Woi! Vanaka! the dead speak! and they who were unfaithful to men and maids are being punished by the gods”; for ere he finished many screams came to our ears, as a flock of migrating wings flapped under the moon that was right overhead.
Mabau, who had heard this, clapped her hands with delight, and I knew then that she had but little faith in Vituo’s promises; for I understood from Bones that he had seen Vituo, and he had pledged his faithfulness to poor Mabau. I say “poor Mabau” because this is no romance that I tell you of, but simply an incident in the sad drama of life that came about through Vituo’s unfaithfulness.
Much that Chief Kaifa told me that night, and on following nights that I spent in his interesting company, still lives vividly in my memory, and I think it will be interesting to tell here some things I heard concerning the monstrous deeds of Thakambau ere the awful royal cannibal embraced Christianity.