South Sea Yarns

by Basil Thomson

And he said, “Now hear what the crab did. The rat came back and spoke to the crab, saying, ‘Why didst thou bite my tail? Did I refuse thee fish? If thou hadst asked me I would have given thee all my fish. My quarrel was with the blue heron, yet thou camest in the night and nipped my tail; and now the blue heron oppresses us both. But he sleeps at night. Now thou shalt go and seize him by the foot, and I will climb upon his back, and bite his neck, and he shall not fly away because thou shalt hold his foot between thy pincers. When he is dead we will share the fish of all the coast between us, but thou shalt have the greater share.’”

And for a space all looked upon the ground and picked at the mats with their fingers. Then Tambuanisoro said, “It is a good story, and also true!”

And on the morrow Rara and Tovutovu took the first-fruits of the yams to Valekau as men take the first-fruits to a great chief. And they said, “You are now our fortress and our head. These are the wretched first-fruits of our barren gardens, for you know that we are a poor people not meet to offer food to chiefs.” And then they piled the great yams high in the square, and bound live pigs beside the pile, and the men of Valekau accepted them, and their senses were dulled by the flattery. And they made a feast for their guests, and the ovens were opened about sunset, so they feasted until late in the night.

Then Dongai said, “It is yet day. Have you no dance? The dance is fitting when the men are filled with pig.”

And the elders of Valekau called to their young men to make ready, and Dongai said, “I will send our young men to the forest to get torches.” And he sent them, saying, “Go and make torches of reeds, and bring in secretly whatever the women have brought you from Rara.” And they went out into the road and called softly, and the women came out of the reeds and gave them clubs hidden in bunches of dry reeds like torches; and the men cut reeds and made torches there and returned to the town, having in the right hands a lighted torch, and in the left the torch that hid their clubs. Then the men of Valekau danced before the chiefs a war-dance with spears and clubs, the elders beating the ground with the bamboo drums, and the chiefs of Rara and Tovutovu applauded, crying “Vinaka!” many times; but Dongai said, “This is well done, but my men know a stranger dance than this—a war-dance taught by the gods of the old time, but now forgotten.” And Bonawai laughed and said, “Veka. Do your young men know things that are forgotten, and can they surpass ours in the dance?” And Dongai said, “Who knows? Let them be tried. Only they have left their dresses and their weapons in Rara.”

So Bonawai called to the youths of Valekau, who stood panting and sweating behind the torches: “Take ye the torches, and give your clubs to these gods of Rara who can dance better than ye.” And the men of Rara took the clubs, and squatted four deep with the weapons poised, while the elders beat the drums and chanted. And the men of Valekau derided them, for their faces were not blacked for dancing.

Now the men of Ram had given their spare torches to the men of Tovutovu, and as they stood in the shadows behind the torches they stripped the reeds from the clubs and held them behind their backs. And suddenly the dancers rose with a great shout, and rushed forward with brandished clubs, making the earth tremble. Then they retreated, and again rushed forward, spreading in a line facing the elders of Valekau as they sat under the cocoa-nut palms, and as they whirled their clubs in the dance the leader cried “Ravu!” (strike), and they struck, but not in the air, for every man struck the head of the man before him. And the men of Tovutovu struck at the torchbearers from behind, and the rest fled, crying, “Treachery!” But when they reached the upper gate the men of Rara stood there, and cried, “Payment!” and when they would escape by the lower gate they found the men of Tovutovu there also, and in their madness they tore down the war-fence and leaped into the ditch, where many were impaled on the sharp stakes they themselves had set up. And the victors fired the houses, and ran hither and thither clubbing all they met; and had it not been for the darkness surely none would have escaped, for the men of Rara pitied none save a few women they took alive for slaves, but ran about crying “Bring torches!” and slaying. So that night was called Mai-na-cina (bring torches), because of the cry of Rara as they were slaying. Thus was Valekau wiped out, and Rara and Tovutovu divided the spoil.

Now the men of Valekau fled to the forest, and they counted those who were missing, and mourned over them. And Bonawai said, “This has been a grievous night, and there must be payment for it, but not now, for many brave warriors are fallen, and many of our katikati,[4] therefore are we become as helpless as the straws whirled onward by a swift current. Let us flee to the caves, and dwell there until our way be plain.” So they dwelt many months in the caves, eating wild yams and bush-pigs.

And after many months the chiefs of Rara, whose mothers were Valekau women, said, “Let our vasu return, for it is a shame to us that our mothers’ folk should be rooting in the forest like wild boars. Also they are few, and cannot harm us.” And the chiefs of Tovutovu agreed. So messengers were sent to the caves, saying, “Your vasu bid you return and fear not.”