It appeared that Thakambau had six Fijian maids, who were kept in the royal huts, sheltered and closely guarded by his high chiefs; and though the missionaries had landed in the Fijian Group, and had even made homes on the isle, he managed to keep all that which the old chief told me a close secret. For some time these six maids formed his harem, and they were proud of the royal favour. In time two of them became mothers, and when the babies were six months old the high chiefs came in the dead of night and took them away. As time wore on, and Thakambau sickened of the secret tribal harem, the mothers disappeared one by one also—only a scream disturbed the forest silence. Then the bokai ovens, wherein the dead were roasted, were made hot, and great were the rejoicings of the cannibalistic natives and the tribal grandees who were favoured by being admitted and presented at the Court functions.
At last of the six erstwhile maids two only were left, and one night they too disappeared and ceased to weep, and the harem huts were silent.
Nedengi, the great Fiji god, blessed all those who had joined in the grand festival whereat the maids had been sacrificed; and as the assembled tribe sat in the terrible forest arena, drinking kava and gorging the dead, the Mebete spirits could be heard running, as their shadow-feet sped across the midnight moonlit forest that surrounded the bokai ovens; and the cannibals looked affrighted over their shoulders as they heard the wailing cries of the souls of the dead mothers and maids whom they were eating being pursued by the souls of dead warriors and lustful old gods, who hungered after the shadows of beautiful dead women!
“How terrible!” I suddenly gasped, being unable to control my utterance as the old chief told me these things. Quickly he looked up at me, and swiftly I recognised my mistake, for he was very proud of his dead king and all the horror I have told you. Continuing, I said: “Thakambau was a great warrior, and the mighty Nedengi approved of his doings, and sanctioned them, as the white God does ours.”
Though I said that, the old fellow seemed to understand my feelings, and looking at me half kindly and half fiercely, said: “Nedengi did not sacrifice his own son! Nor does he send the helpless, blind souls of his children to the bokai ovens of hell fires to burn in agony for eternity; nor did he hide in the dark of ages. Why did your mighty one God not come before? Why did He send you cursed whites to our isles to shout lies, ravish our maids and steal our lands? Wao! Wao! Why smash our idols? Show me this great white God! Where, where is this Thing you prate about? Where?” Saying this, he lifted his eyes to the skies, and so vehemently did he rattle on, and so many things did he say that smacked of the truth, that for a moment I hung my head and felt as though I were the heathen and he the Christian.
Bidding the fierce old fellow good-night, I went swiftly across the flats, crept into the Home of the Fallen, by Rewa river, and slept.
It was the next day that I met the treacherous Vituo. Bones introduced me to him, and as I nodded my friend gave me a wink and so I assumed more politeness. I was much surprised by Vituo’s appearance, for though he was a half-caste his complexion was almost European. Certainly he was of a type which would appear handsome to Fijian womenkind, and from his manner I saw at a glance that he was a mixture of the swashbuckler and cavalier. I pitied little Mabau exceedingly, for she would, night after night, come over to see us, and I knew that she came full of hope that she might meet Vituo, who often came down the Rewa to help the traders, and to take up cargoes of copra and many other things that grew on the plantations which were cultivated and toiled over by the natives.
I stayed with Bones for some days; he was extremely kind to me, and I was glad of the opportunity of getting a rest, and, moreover, the men who lived with him were strange characters and extremely interesting. Often new arrivals came, some with heavy beards and some clean shaven, ostensibly for the purpose of disguise.
One old man, whose name was Enoch, was a quaint old chap and fondly loved rum. I do not know what he had done in his native land—which I believe was Australia—but at night he would shout in his sleep and, suddenly awaking, sit up and gasp, and gaze with relief on the bunks around him, wherein slept the weary heads of the fallen. Now Enoch was very artful, for he found out that I was the rum-keeper and so it was my duty to share out, and night after night I was obliged to get out of my bed and give him tots of rum to allay the awful pain which a toothache was giving him. For several nights this kind of thing went on. I advised him at length to go to Suva and get the offensive molar pulled out, but no, he would not hear of it. At last, after a wretched week of nights disturbed by his groans and appeals for rum, I happened to tell him a joke, and as he opened his mouth wide with laughter I saw to my disgust that he was toothless!
Often I went out into the forest and, placing my music in the fork of a tree, stood and practised my violin. The native children would hear, and come peeping through the tall fern and grass to listen. They became my little friends. I taught them to dance around me, and they screamed with delight!