“Le putih purumpuan bunga!” (“O flower of beautiful whiteness!”) he groaned out in his Malayan lingo. Then he too turned to Macka, and by his gesticulations revealed the enormous pride he felt that the Rajah should return to the palatial homestead with so wonderful a prize. The old Malayan chieftain was the Rajah’s esteemed bapa (father). Though he was old and wrinkled, it was evident that he too had been handsome in his day. From that old bapa Macka had inherited the indescribable sensualism that had placed Gabrielle in her awful position.
“Cowan, wanoo, wanoo wooloo!” he seemed to shout, as he gazed with pride on his hopeful son. Even the Rajah recognised the results of his own virtues and swelled his chest, put his arms half up and gaped to hide the embarrassment of an invisible blush. And why shouldn’t old bapa be proud of his son? Had he not listened to the pleadings of the German missionary at Astrolabe, who had come over from the isles of the Bismarck Archipelago?
“O great bapa,” said the missionary, “take thee this little Macka, this small son of thine, teach unto him the Word of God, rear him up in the path of righteousness, so that he may follow the divine calling and teach thy people the beauty of the Western creed!”
And old bapa, listening to that good German missionary’s advice, took his hand and said: “O white papalagi from over the moan ali (seas) I have listened. And I say unto thee, that it shall be as thy godly words have said.” Then immediately he called his son, little Macka, from his idol worship in the tambu temple, and, laying his tawny hand on the boy’s head, said: “O my son, the Fates have willed on thy behalf that thou shalt go hence across the big waters to Honolulu and be educated like unto a noble white man. For, I say, it beseemeth good that thou shalt grow up and be one good missionary, so that thou mayst guide thy people in the path of the new righteousness.”
So spake proud old bapa, who truly had his son’s interest deep in his heart. The result was that soon after the German tramp steamer Lubeck sailed from Aru, up the coast, taking the boy Macka across the seas to Honolulu. And as the boy’s years increased the missionaries marvelled that so bright a youth had come amongst them, for he was clever and became as one of them in learning. Soon Macka became head of one of the biggest missionary classes at K—— O——. But alas! with the development of manhood the old instincts, the passions developed in his race through centuries of tropical desire, burst into flame. They were not to be overthrown by the sad aspirations of a few old missionaries at Honolulu. Those kind, well-meaning men had endeavoured to change the spots on the leopard’s back—in vain! For what was the inevitable result of their life-long pilgrimage away from their native lands? This—there stood Macka once more, after all those years, back in his native village, the personification of the full-blooded heathen attired in Western garb, with a white girl trembling beside him, looking first into the eyes of the son, then into the eyes of the father. And still the drums beat on. And still far away over the seas old Pa Everard wailed through his delirium, “My Gabby! My Gabby!” till the asylum-keepers at Ysabel soothed his rum-stricken nerves.
“Ah! ah! koola, Cowan! my faithful son! Thou art indeed the joy of old bapa’s soul!” And as the old father’s eyes filled with tears of pride, and the hideous, bloated mother waved her skinny arms with joy, the Rajah bowed. For the Rajah was a good and faithful son, and had repaid his parents well from the proceeds of his exertions in the dangerous slave traffic.
The civilised blackbirding skipper well knew that the girl was now utterly in his power. He was in no hurry to further his wishes. Indeed he was the first to suggest to his old bapa that Gabrielle should stay with them till the final arrangements could be made that would chime in with his secret desires.
So Gabrielle Everard actually found herself living in the squalor of a Malayo-Papuan homestead on the coast of New Guinea. She was down with fever for the first three days. Then the Rajah came into her thickly matted chamber (mats denoted that the visitor was an honoured guest) and wailed forth his hypocritical vows.
He sobbed to see her lying ill. He said that if anything should happen to her he would fade to a shadow and die. Then he rubbed his eyes with his big coat-sleeve, and opened a little bottle of medicine. The foolish girl, sick and weak, felt that perhaps the man had a heart after all—she drank! Then he whispered soft words into her ears, but she did not listen.
“Come on, putih bunga!” said he. She rose like one in a dream, and he led her away to the great tambu temple that stood right opposite Macka’s ancestral halls. It was a wooden building, sheltered by enormous mahogany-trees.