Three carried their arms reversed,the butts over their shoulders,the muzzles menacing the king's plump back;the fourth had passed his weapon behind his neck,and held it there with arms extended like a backboard.The visit was extraordinarily long.The king,no longer galvanised with gin,said and did nothing.He sat collapsed in a chair and let a cigar go out.It was hot,it was sleepy,it was cruel dull;there was no resource but to spy in the countenance of Tebureimoa for some remaining trait of MR.CORPSEthe butcher.His hawk nose,crudely depressed and flattened at the point,did truly seem to us to smell of midnight murder.When he took his leave,Maka bade me observe him going down the stair (or rather ladder)from the verandah.'Old man,'said Maka.'Yes,'said I,'and yet I suppose not old man.''Young man,'returned Maka,'perhaps fo'ty.'And I have heard since he is most likely younger.
While the magic lantern was showing,I skulked without in the dark.
The voice of Maka,excitedly explaining the Scripture slides,seemed to fill not the church only,but the neighbourhood.All else was silent.Presently a distant sound of singing arose and approached;and a procession drew near along the road,the hot clean smell of the men and women striking in my face delightfully.
At the corner,arrested by the voice of Maka and the lightening and darkening of the church,they paused.They had no mind to go nearer,that was plain.They were Makin people,I believe,probably staunch heathens,contemners of the missionary and his works.Of a sudden,however,a man broke from their company,took to his heels,and fled into the church;next moment three had followed him;the next it was a covey of near upon a score,all pelting for their lives.So the little band of the heathen paused irresolute at the corner,and melted before the attractions of a magic lantern,like a glacier in spring.The more staunch vainly taunted the deserters;three fled in a guilty silence,but still fled;and when at length the leader found the wit or the authority to get his troop in motion and revive the singing,it was with much diminished forces that they passed musically on up the dark road.
Meanwhile inside the luminous pictures brightened and faded.Istood for some while unobserved in the rear of the spectators,when I could hear just in front of me a pair of lovers following the show with interest,the male playing the part of interpreter and (like Adam)mingling caresses with his lecture.The wild animals,a tiger in particular,and that old school-treat favourite,the sleeper and the mouse,were hailed with joy;but the chief marvel and delight was in the gospel series.Maka,in the opinion of his aggrieved wife,did not properly rise to the occasion.'What is the matter with the man?Why can't he talk?'she cried.The matter with the man,I think,was the greatness of the opportunity;he reeled under his good fortune;and whether he did ill or well,the exposure of these pious 'phantoms'did as a matter of fact silence in all that part of the island the voice of the scoffer.
'Why then,'the word went round,'why then,the Bible is true!'
And on our return afterwards we were told the impression was yet lively,and those who had seen might be heard telling those who had not,'O yes,it is all true;these things all happened,we have seen the pictures.'The argument is not so childish as it seems;for I doubt if these islanders are acquainted with any other mode of representation but photography;so that the picture of an event (on the old melodrama principle that 'the camera cannot lie,Joseph,')would appear strong proof of its occurrence.The fact amused us the more because our slides were some of them ludicrously silly,and one (Christ before Pilate)was received with shouts of merriment,in which even Maka was constrained to join.
SUNDAY,JULY 28.-Karaiti came to ask for a repetition of the 'phantoms'-this was the accepted word -and,having received a promise,turned and left my humble roof without the shadow of a salutation.I felt it impolite to have the least appearance of pocketing a slight;the times had been too difficult,and were still too doubtful;and Queen Victoria's son was bound to maintain the honour of his house.Karaiti was accordingly summoned that evening to the Ricks,where Mrs.Rick fell foul of him in words,and Queen Victoria's son assailed him with indignant looks.I was the ass with the lion's skin;I could not roar in the language of the Gilbert Islands;but I could stare.Karaiti declared he had meant no offence;apologised in a sound,hearty,gentlemanly manner;and became at once at his ease.He had in a dagger to examine,and announced he would come to price it on the morrow,to-day being Sunday;this nicety in a heathen with eight wives surprised me.The dagger was 'good for killing fish,'he said roguishly;and was supposed to have his eye upon fish upon two legs.It is at least odd that in Eastern Polynesia fish was the accepted euphemi** for the human sacrifice.Asked as to the population of his island,Karaiti called out to his vassals who sat waiting him outside the door,and they put it at four hundred and fifty;but (added Karaiti jovially)there will soon be plenty more,for all the women are in the family way.Long before we separated I had quite forgotten his offence.He,however,still bore it in mind;and with a very courteous inspiration returned early on the next day,paid us a long visit,and punctiliously said farewell when he departed.
MONDAY,JULY 29.-The great day came round at last.In the first hours the night was startled by the sound of clapping hands and the chant of Nei Kamaunava;its melancholy,slow,and somewhat menacing measures broken at intervals by a formidable shout.The little morsel of humanity thus celebrated in the dark hours was observed at midday playing on the green entirely naked,and equally unobserved and unconcerned.
