" Se kau iloà " ("I do not know"), replied Temana, with a solemn face.
"Ah, you cannot tell! Who can tell nowadays? But you will know when some day she is fined five dollars. In my time if a man doubted his wife, the club fell swiftly, or the spear was sped, and she was dead. And, because of this custom, wives in those days were careful. Now, they care not, and are fined five dollars many times. And the husband hath to pay the fine!" He laughed in his noiseless way, and then puffed at his pipe. "And if he cannot pay, then he and his wife, and the man who hath wronged him, work together on the roads, and eat and drink together as friends, and are not ashamed. And at night-time they sing hymns together!"
"People must be punished when wrong is done, Pâkia," I said lamely.
"Bah! what is five dollars to a woman? Is it a high fence set with spears over which she cannot climb? If a man hath fifty dollars, does not his wife know it, and tell her lover (if she hath one) that he may meet her ten times! Give me more water in this grog, good white man with the brown skin like mine own!"
The old fellow smoked his pipe in silence for a few minutes; then again he pointed to the moon, nodded and smiled.
" Tah! What a moon! Would that I were young again! See, in the days of my youth, on such a night as this, all the young men and women would be standing on the outer reef fishing for malau, which do but take a bait in the moonlight. Now, because to-morrow is the Sabbath day, no man must launch a canoe nor take a rod in his hand, lest he stay out beyond the hour of midnight, and his soul go to hell to burn in red fire for ever and ever. Bah!"
"Never mind these things, Pâkia. Tell me instead how came ye to serve in the wars of Chile and Peru, or of thy voyages in the folau manu (whaleship)."
His eyes sparkled. "Ah, those were the days! Twice in one whaleship did I sail among the ice mountains of the far south, where the wind cuts like a knife and the sea is black to look at Tapa! the cold, the cold, the cold which burneth the skin like iron at white heat! But I was strong; and we killed many whales. I, Pâkfa, in one voyage struck thirteen! I was in the mate's boat.... Look at this now!" He held up his withered arm and peered at me. "It was a strong arm then; now it is but good to carry food to my mouth, or to hold a stick when I walk." The last words he uttered wistfully, and then sighed.
"The mate of that ship was a good man. He taught me many things. Once, when we had left the cold seas and were among the islands of Tonga, he struck me in his rage because I threw the harpoon at a great sperm whale, and missed. That night I slipped over the side, and swam five miles to the land. Dost know the place called Lifuka? 'Twas there I landed. I lay in a thicket till daylight, then I arose and went into a house and asked for food. They gave me a yam and a piece of bonito, and as I ate men sprang on me from behind and tied me up hand and foot. Then I was carried back to the ship, and the captain gave those pigs of Tongans fifty dollars' worth of presents for bringing me back."
"He thought well of thee, Pâkia, to pay so much."