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What happened next (I said) was a sort of psychic curiosity. Panio stood firm and looked for a long time straight through my glasses into my furious eyes. My glance didn’t swerve. Suddenly his nerve seemed to ooze away. He dropped his eyes, shuffled, turned and marched out of the cabin and up the stairs. When I got on deck he was gone.
I don’t mind confessing that after the thing was over I had the “wind up,” as the British say; so much so that I went to my grip and found my pistol. Next morning the relations between us and our guests seemed a bit strained, and I was dreading the consequences—when back came Panio, carrying a broad grin and a tribute of baked panas for me. To this day I don’t know how I subdued him, with only a look. Possibly he was afraid that my glasses would slay him with the spell of the evil eye. Possibly I had quelled him the way, I am told, you can quell wild beasts, by a fixed and powerful stare.... I should hate to try it on a Bengal tiger.
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The native name for Rennell Island is Mungava (Big Rennell) and for Bellona Island it is Mungiki (Little Rennell). The France hadn’t visited Bellona on its other trip; very few Europeans had ever dared to go ashore there. After Buia told us that one of the kings of Bellona was his cousin and might make things easy for us, Hamlin was particularly anxious to touch there. Then all the population of Rennell Island clamored to be taken along. Mua, son of Taupangi, was the most clamorous of all. I promised to take these two young men, provided and agreed that they would smooth the way for me to get plenty of hookworm specimens. If we hadn’t taken Mua, his father would have been furious because his son had been left behind and Tahua’s representative had gone with us.
After talking things over with their two Big Masters, Buia and Mua made a quaint suggestion. The people of Bellona might be “cross too much.” As we were approaching the shore Mua and Buia had decided that it would be a good idea to dress up in European clothes, put shotguns over their shoulders and look like hunting naturalists. This disguise would impress the natives, for some undisclosed reason, and after that everything would be smooth going.
We reached the little bay in the little island, which was a stone-walled Rennell in miniature—about four miles long and three wide. It had much more soil on it and looked much more fertile. When we found anchorage we shouted and fired guns to attract attention, but nothing stirred. Jagged masses of coral endangered our anchorage; on a windy day we would have been beaten to pieces. As it was, our keel got a terrific bump on a hidden snag, the anchor chain parted and we were set adrift. The four-mile engine got us around at last; we worked all night and finally dropped an improvised anchor. Our survival was a compliment to the stout teakwood hull of the France.
In the early morning canoes appeared, coming out to us. Buia and Mua hastily arrayed themselves in white men’s raincoats and hats, and when the natives drew alongside our amateur detectives began shouting at them in the vilest and most profane pidgin English—evidently their conception of trading skippers approaching an island. Buia and Mua looked their parts so little that you wouldn’t have thought they could fool a baby. But the Bellona folk stared anxiously up at them, and when our impersonators began to address them in their native language the listeners were bewildered. Who were these foreigners who spoke so fluently in the speech of Bellona?
Suddenly Buia and Mua threw off their disguise. A sigh of wonder went over the reception committee, then a shout of welcome swelled to an ovation. It was a breath-taking occasion: native boys had actually come as guides to a European vessel! The people of Mungiki, very like their relatives of Mungava, swarmed aboard and rubbed noses with their heroes. Every visitor bristled with bows and arrows, spears and clubs; they looked fiercer and wilder than the Rennell folk. Surrounding us, more curious than hostile, their every gesture seemed a threat. The few who could speak pidgin went anxiously among us, asking, “Captain, Captain?” They wanted to know which of our party was top dog.
Finally Buia led us ashore, and we were surprised at the neat little houses among the heavy palms. Everything we saw was clean and well kept, including the villagers. For some lost reason they seemed to have learned the art of taking care of themselves. When we returned to the boat Buia’s cousin, one of the three kings, sent word that he was ready to receive us. We returned the compliment by asking him aboard, only to be told that it was tabu for a king to come on a stranger’s ship. There had been war between the three kings; and how in the world there was room for three wars between three kings is another South Sea mystery.