A Yankee doctor in paradise

by S. M. Lambert

One big man, kneeling beside my table, talked volubly about missionary Borgas. He called him “Bawgus” as in the tone in which you’d mention some unmentionable disease. Bawgus had baited the hook by asking them aboard ship—“You like lookim along shippie?” So they looked along shippie. “Then he go ashore he putim tabu along shippie.” Mr. Borgas hadn’t offered any tribute to Tahua, either in the way of food or tobacco. The only thing he had to offer gratis was Salvation—and “M.V.” armbands.... My faith in Rennell was somewhat renewed when the kneeling man beside me said, “Mission he come, Master he finish. Big Master along Sky he finish too.” Meaning, in plain English, that if Rennell became missionized its past would vanish; and they were on the alert.

I hope I haven’t satirized the friendliness of these people. Their generosity surpassed anything I have seen anywhere, the Cook Islands not excepted. They may have seemed overeager in grasping for the things they wanted—mostly things of steel; but in their trades they gave away the best they had, and with the faith of little children. I was fairly sickened by the sight of their carefree swapping with some of our crew—precious heirlooms for a few cigarettes or a tin rattle. I saw one beautifully carved and polished ebony “Big Master’s stick”—a royal scepter to them—go to a sailor for a penny stick of rank twist. The sailor wanted the stick, and the owner just couldn’t refuse. There were many fine museum pieces frittered away like that. Why argue about the price, when visitors were so pleasant?

From a doctor’s point of view, the traffic in women was still more discouraging. Tahua, as a mark of extreme favor, offered me his daughter, although, he explained, she was promised to Buia the Bastard. When I informed him that I was married and had a “mary” of my own, he listened respectfully; I’m sure he didn’t know what that had to do with it.

For several nights the parties in the forecastle went on at a furious pace; they kept it up until Crocker showed the sailors that he was boss of the Zaca and would allow no visitors aboard after six o’clock. In the riotous period that led up to the ultimatum I found one deck hand solemnly scrubbing a native beauty with a piece of brown soap and rinsing her at the end of a hose. It was probably the first real bath she ever had; I was surprised at the lightness of her skin, which would match that of the purest Polynesian.

When I had come there on the France, we jaunty explorers were all so dirty that we had somewhat deadened our sense of smell. But fresh from the luxurious cleanliness of the Zaca, I was conscious of the prevalent B.O. of Rennell. It took some tact for me to remind Buia that what he needed was a bath. He received the news amiably, dived into the bay and swam like a fish. Even without soap he lightened at least two shades, and was vain about it when I held up a mirror.

Panio, the political strong-arm, was especially aromatic; I was quite overcome by his meekness when I suggested that he follow Buia’s example. When he came out of the water, a paler and a better man, he told me that he had had some experience with talk-marks, the kind I made on the typewriter. But his words hadn’t been any good. He handed me a piece of paper which a visiting skipper had given him by way of introduction to passing ships. But when Panio had shown it to other skippers they had been cross too much. I read his paper and quite understood. It said, “To whom it may concern. Don’t have anything to do with this bloody bastard. He is a proper wrong un.” The skipper who wrote that reference was a student of human nature.

I had thought that Templeton Crocker’s firm stand against midnight visitors might have dangerous repercussions. Or at least the effect wouldn’t be very lasting. It was good for about twenty-four hours, I found; the people were kind but insinuating, and they all came back. The only way to shorten visiting hours, we learned, was to see the Big Masters; and when we managed that, the scene grew quieter—Or did it? One evening after dinner, a number of native beauties were draping their pretty figures over about everything on the ship, animate or inanimate. “Maury” Willowes, who was serving as a human coat-hanger for about six of the clinging ladies, did not attempt to brush them off as he made his bon mot: “Just another quiet evening at home.” And our host, who had at first declared the Rennellese among the most beautiful works of nature, sniffed a little at the prevalent native bouquet.

Next day I wrote in my diary:—

Mr. Crocker is working on the deck astern, or trying to; Panio is summoning some friends at a half-mile distance, in a voice that might blow a hole in the ship; a girl and two boys are playing mouth organs steadily in my right ear; Maury, heaven help us, is trading out baby rattles, the kind with bells on them; a man is bouncing a rubber ball, and is so awkward about catching it that my little Sara Celia could show him how. Older men are clamoring for knives and hatchets, but the ones of military age have gone crazy about musical tops.... Where was I, anyhow? Oh, yes, this morning on the beach I gave a cigarette to Teina, and he said, “You pickaninny belong me.” I suppose he was trying to say that I was his father....

Rennell Island was advancing, but in her march of progress she had taken the wrong fork in the road. A great many of the men had discarded native costume and were taking a fancy to lavalavas. To impress us, perhaps, they would pull lavalavas over the time-honored breachclouts they called kongoa. Or they’d take off the kongoa altogether and substitute “calicoes” for them. On Barley’s recent trip his crew had brought in several thousand cigarettes, salvaged from a wrecked Japanese vessel, and the Rennellese had taken to them like so many ducks to water. New tastes, new ways.... The growing craze for European costume was illustrated in the behavior of Mua, son of Taupangi, who followed me around the ship, archly suggesting that I give him a pair of trousers and a shirt. I tried to tell him that it would curse Rennell, if he started such nonsense.