"Lelei! Thank you! Good boy!" cried the relieved Commodore heartily as he found himself set right side up upon the coral clinkers. And again he cried "Lelei!" (the extent of his Samoan at that time) and "Good Boy!" when the cap which he supposed had fallen off in the water was set jauntily back upon his head by his dusky preserver. Another "Good boy!" greeted the discovery of the fact that his feet were dry, and still another boomed forth when the flickering light of the torches showed the white uniform to be still immaculate. The last one was emphasized with a ringing slap of gratitude bestowed upon the oil-glistening shoulder where his head had lately rested. There came a ripple of low-silvery laughter, and the Commodore's preserver had slipped away among the shadows of the coco trees.
The ruddy glow that suffused the sun-tanned face of the Commodore as I splashed out alongside him was not due entirely to the glare of the torches.
"Did you hear that? Did you see that?" he gasped excitedly, staring off into the moon-mottled shadows. "He was a girl! I've been carried ashore by a girl! You don't suppose that—"
"Don't worry," I said gently; "they were too busy thanking their own preservers to notice you."
Mauga, the fine old gladiator who was giving the talolo, met us at the door of his huge thatched-roofed "palace" and led us to the "seats" of honour—stacks of mats upon which we sat cross-legged—between himself and his handsome chiefess, Faa-oo-pea. After a speech of welcome by the tulafale or "talking chief," there were two or three spirited sword and club-juggling exhibitions by a dozen or so men, magnificent physical specimens who twirled and tossed ancient Samoan weapons as they reeled and lunged in the sinuous movements of the strange dances. In the interval of these Claribel was led away by one of Seuka's handmaidens to have a glimpse of the dressing of that important young personage for the siva-siva that was shortly to follow. When, on her return, we asked her what the taupo was going to wear, she appeared distinctly embarrassed and launched at once into a detailed description of Seuka's marvellous tuiga or headdress, which she had witnessed the assembling and adjustment of. As a matter of fact, as became apparent shortly, that was about all there was to describe. For that reason, and because it is so marvellous an affair intrinsically, I have thought it worth while to set down what the observant Claribel has to say about it in her journal.
"The taupo's badge of office is a three-feet-high headdress called a tuiga. It is a composite affair, part wig, part frontlet of nautilis shell and part a scaffolding of three flower-decked sticks. It is not an easy thing to put on, for it must be assembled piece by piece each time it is wanted. It is producive of constant pain while it is worn and is taken off with a feeling of relief, yet the custom of wearing it on official occasions is so old and rigid that the taupo would scarcely feel properly clad without it. The foundation is a strip of black cloth which is wound around the head at the roots of the hair, drawing all of the latter up into a bunch at the crown. Upon this one stubby lock is tied the wig of natural hair, which is set in a frame of cloth or fibre netting. When this is attached so securely that there is no chance of its becoming dislodged, the scaffolding of slender sticks and a cross piece is tied in front and made fast to the cloth covering over the forehead. The cross piece is usually ornamented with two or three round mirrors and some bright feathers, while a band consisting of several rows of the partition plates of the nautilus shell is often tied across the forehead. With these decorations the taupo wears a neck pendant of a curled boar's tusk and a wreath or two of ula, a few of the bright red fruits of the pandanus occasionally appearing among the latter."
Faa-oo-pea, chieftainess of Pago Pago, making kava
Seuka, taupo of Pago Pago, illustrating a movement in
the Siva