The white men rose and left the council. The temper of the people, as they passed out among them, was again happy. Smiles and hand-shakes met them on every side. The war shout was begun and thundered out in perfect time.
“Kataafa Tupu-e-Kapua[29]—ah!”
The people had declared their willingness to be declared rebels, and undertook to defy the chief justice.
Klinger’s face shone with delight. The first move was successful. Only one more was necessary. Kataafa holding Ukula, while the few weak bands of loyal natives were driven into the bush by his well-armed cohorts, all the enemies of the Kapuan firm would be confounded. “So long as our consul has the backbone to hold out against the other two consuls,” he said aloud, “under the treaty no action can be taken by the war-ships. Kataafa, with nearly five thousand fighting men, can take Ukula and establish solidly his claim to the kingship.”
Captain Scott shook hands with Klinger and the count. “This check I’m giving you,” Klinger said insinuatingly, “is subject to recall if I find you have not played square. You understand.”
Scott smiled sadly. “You see, count, what it is to have enemies who constantly defame one’s character. Have I ever acted in any other way but square with you?” he asked. The count shook his head.
“I haven’t examined the guns nor checked them over,” Klinger said by way of explanation. “I hope they are as you represent.”
Scott bowed and walked quickly to the beach, where his boat and crew were waiting.
The “fono” was breaking up. The natives, by villages, were marching down to the beach; their weird chants could be heard on all sides. Great war canoes, paddled by as many as forty warriors, were swiftly launched, and sent across the water to the “Talofa,” where they ranged alongside, tier upon tier. Kataafa, with half a dozen veteran chiefs, dressed in white shirts and “lava-lavas,” their fly-flaps or fuis held over their right shoulders, marched slowly down the street. The high chief stopped at the steps of Klinger’s house. He now talked without his talking man, but in Kapuan, and to Klinger.
“Kataafa has taken the advice of his white friends. They tell him now there can be no war. Kataafa loves his people; he loves his enemies.” As he spoke his left hand played nervously with a little golden cross on a fine gold chain slung about his neck. “If he believed there would be war he would go away. But the ‘Alii papalangi’[30] know best, from their greater wisdom. Kataafa does not understand papalangi thoughts. He understands only Kapuan. You tell him to go to Ukula and make himself king in house of Laupepe, who is dead. Very well; Kataafa will go, trusting that all you have said will be true.”