“'But why,' asked the men of Yap, 'do ye go to-day—which is the day of the feast?'
“'Because the heart of Lirou is glad, and he desires peace with all men—even Roka. And whilst he and those of our people who remain feast with ye men of Yap, and make merriment, we, the tribute messengers, go unto Roka with words of goodwill.'
“Now these words were lies, for when the three hundred men had marched a quarter of a league past Tokolmé, they halted at a place in the forest where they had arms concealed. Then they waited for a certain signal from Lirou, who had said:—
“'When thou hearest the sound of a conch shell at the beginning of the feast, march quickly back and form a circle around us and the people of Yap, but let not one of ye be seen. Then when there comes a second blast rush in, and see that no one escapes. Spare no one but the girl Lea.'
“When the sun was a little high Lirou and all his people—men, women and children—came and made ready the feast. On each of the squared logs was spread out baked hogs, fowls, pigeons, turtle and fish, and all manner of fruits in abundance, and then also there were placed in the centre of the clearing twenty stone mortars for making kava.
“When all was ready, Leâ and her people were bidden to come, and they all came out of the fort, dressed very gaily and singing as is customary for guests to do. And Lirou stepped out from among his people and took Leâ by the hand and seated her on a fine mat in the place of honour, and as she sat with Lirou beside her, a man blew a loud, long blast upon a conch shell and the feast began.”
Rai's story had interested me keenly, but I was now guilty of a breach of native etiquette—I had to interrupt him to ask how it was that the man Kol and others who were friendly to the Yap people did not give them a final warning of the intended massacre.
“Ah, I forgot to tell thee that Lirou was as cunning as he was cruel, and ten days before the giving of the feast he had sent away Kol and some others whom he knew to be well disposed to the people of Yap. He sent them to the islands of Pakin—ten leagues from Ponapé, and desired them to catch turtle for him. But with them he sent a trusty man, whom he took into his confidence, and said, 'Tell Rairik, Chief of Pakin, to make some pretext, and prevent Kol from returning to Ponapé for a full moon. And say also that if he yields not to my wish I shall destroy him and his people.'”
“Ah,” I said, “Lirou was a Napoleon.”
“Who was he?”