In the adjoining hut, Muriel, who was now beginning in some small degree to get rid of her most pressing fear for the immediate future, and whom the obvious reality of the taboo had reassured for the moment, sat with Mali, her own particular Shadow, unravelling the mystery of the girl’s knowledge of English.
Mali, indeed, like the other Shadow, showed every disposition to indulge in abundant conversation, as soon as she found herself well within the hut, alone with her mistress, and secluded from the prying eyes of all the other islanders.
“Don’t you be afraid, missy,” she said, with genuine kindliness in her tone, as soon as the gifts of yam and bread-fruit had all been duly housed and garnered. “No harm come to you. You Korong, you know. You very great Taboo. Tu-Kila-Kila send King of Fire and King of Water to make taboo over you, so nobody hurt you.”
Muriel burst into tears at the sound of her own language from those dusky lips, and exclaimed through her sobs, clinging to the girl’s hand for comfort as she spoke, “Why, how did you ever come to speak English?—tell me.”
Mali looked up at her with a half-astonished air. “Oh, I servant in Queensland, of course, missy,” she answered, with great composure. “Labor vessel come to my island, far away, four, five years ago, steal boy, steal woman. My papa just kill my mamma, because he angry with her, so no want daughters. So my papa sell me and my sister for plenty rum, plenty tobacco, to gentlemen in labor vessel. Gentlemen in labor vessel take Jani and me away, away, to Queensland. Big sea; long voyage. We stop there three yam—three years—do service; then great chief in Queensland send us back to my island. My island too faraway; gentleman on ship not find it out; so he land us in little boat on Boupari. Boupari people make temple slave of us.” And that was all; to her quite a commonplace, everyday history.
“I see,” Muriel cried. “Then you’ve been for three years in Australia! And there you learned English. Why, what did you do there?”
Mali looked back at her with the same matter-of-fact air of composure as before. “Oh, me nurse at first,” she said, shortly. “Then after, me housemaid, live three year in gentleman’s house, good gentleman that buy me. Take care of little girl; clean rooms; do everything. Me know how to make English lady quite comfortable. Me tell that to chief; that make him say, ‘Mali, you be Queenie’s Shadow.’”
To Muriel in her loneliness even such companionship as that was indeed a consolation. “Oh, I’m so glad you told him,” she cried. “If we have to stop here long, before a ship takes us off, it’ll be so nice to have you here all the time with me. You won’t go away from me ever, will you? You’ll always stop with me!”
The girl’s surprise showed more profoundly than ever. “Me can’t go away,” she answered, with emphasis. “Me your Shadow. That great Taboo. Tu-Kila-Kila great god. If me go away, Tu-Kila-Kila kill me and eat me.”
Muriel started back in horror. “But, Mali,” she said, looking hard at the girl’s pleasant brown face, “if you were three years in Australia, you’re a Christian, surely!”