Atolls of the Sun

by Frederick O'Brien

“That will do for him,” said Nohea, “as the reef shatters the canoe when the steersman fails to find the pass.”

He returned to the fire, and soon we were absorbed in the pleasant processes of supper. We lived simply, becoming near-to-nature folk, but we had plenty. First, we ate popo, tiny fish we had snared in our traps, and which we swallowed raw, after a soaking in the juice of limes. With our bonito steak we had broiled cocoanut-meat, and for drink we opened the wondrous chalices of the green nuts and enjoyed the cool wine. There was no breadfruit, for these islands of stone afforded no nourishment to such delicate and rich plants. But we had ship’s biscuit from the schooner, and for desert a pot of loganberry jam. Nohea, his stomach full, sat contemplatively on his haunches. Now and then he cocked his ear toward the cocoanut-grove, but he said nothing. The crown of the tree in which the giant crustacean had vanished was lost in the gloom of night. A slight breeze sprang up from the distance toward the Land of the War Fleet, and pandanus and mikimiki bushes nodded and gave forth little noises as their leaves and branches rubbed together.

Over all was the atmosphere of mystic aloofness which the white feels so keenly in these far-away dots—the utter difference of scene and incident from the accustomed one of the home land. I mused about my own future in these little known tropics—

Nohea cautiously raised himself to his feet, and, motioning me to be silent, directed my attention to the tree up which had gone the ugly marauder an hour before. We heard plainly a grating, incisive noise, and in a moment a huge cocoanut fell from among the swaying leaves to the earth.

A smothered exclamation of fury broke from the Paumotuan, but he made no step and continued pointing at the palm. Then I heard a scratching, and peering through the darkness with the aid of my electric torch, I saw the colossal crab coming down the trunk. He held on to the slippery bark by the sharp points of his walking legs, and backwardly descended with extreme care.

Nohea watched intently as the animal neared the girdle of clay and leaves. I noted his excitement, but still could not resolve his plan. It flashed upon me as its success was established in an instant of action.

The robber-crab, touching the clay, moved less carefully, and suddenly, to my astonishment, let go his hold, and with claws wildly beating the air, whirled downward from the height of forty feet, crashing on the rocks at the foot of the tree. In a second Nohea was upon him with a club of purau wood. But there was no need for further punishment. The drop had caused instant death. The immense shell was smashed and the monster lay inert upon the coral stones.

The diver sprang in the air and clapped his hands rapidly, as might a winning better at a prize-fight.

“The fool!” he said. “He has no koekoe—no bowels of wisdom. He thought the clay was the bottom, and that he was already with the nut he had robbed me of, and which he could open and eat. Many I have killed like that one, but it takes time. I have had such a thief steal my pareu for his house, and a bottle of kerosene for mere mischief. We will eat the flesh of this one’s legs, and I will melt his fat against the rahui when I might have rheumatism.”

Nohea showed me a great mass of blue fat under the kaveu’s tail, and from this he boiled down a quart of the finest oil. It was not only a specific for rheumatism but the best possible lubricant for sewing-machines and clocks, he said. He put some of the oil in the sun, and when thickened it made butter, though not with a milky taste.