Now gambling is forbidden in these isles. It is told that throughout the southern oceans such a madness possessed the people to play the white men's games of chance that in order to prevent constant bloodshed in quarrels a strict interdiction was made by the conquerors. Of course whites here are always excepted from such sin-stopping rules, and merchants keep a small stock of cards for their indulgence.
“But why two packs?” I asked the agitated Tahitian.
“Mais, Monsieur, that is the way I was taught. We played with ten or fourteen in the circle, and as it is merely pour passer le temps, more of my poor brother Kanakas can enjoy it with two packs.”
He was positively abased, for no Tahitian says “Kanaka” of himself. It is a term of contempt. He might call his fellow so, but only as an American negro says “nigger.”
I looked at him closely. Some gesture, the suggested slant of his brows, the thin lips, reminded me of a certain “son of Ah Cum” who guided me into disaster in Canton, saying, “Mis'r Rud Kippeling he go one time befo'.”
“Your name?” I asked in hope of confirmation.
“O Lalala,” he replied, while the smile that started in his eyes was killed by his tightening lips. “I am French, for my grandfather was of Annam under the tri-color, and my mother of Tahiti-iti.”
Now fourteen-handed poker, with O Lalala as instructor to those ignorant of the game, the code of which was written by a United States diplomat, appealed to me as more than a passing of the time. It would be an episode in the valley. My patriotism was stimulated. I called the governor aside.
“This poker,” I said, “is not like écarté or baccarat. It is a study of character, a matching of minds, a thing we call bluff, we Americans. These poor Marquesans must have some fun. Let him do it! No harm can come of it. It is far to Paris, where the laws are made.”
The governor turned to O Lalala.