When Hayes and I quarrelled, the American trader, “Harry,” who had hitherto stood by “Bully” sided with me, with the result that Hayes passionately declared that both of us were at the bottom of a conspiracy to lower his prestige and lessen his authority, not only with the other white men but with the natives as well.  This was an utterly unfounded accusation, for we liked the man, but did not like the way in which he had treated the deputation of Strong’s Islanders, who protested against his permitting the continual abduction of young Kusaiean girls by members of his crew.

I had brought the deputation to him, for Harry and myself were persona grata with the natives, who all knew that Hayes had a great liking for us.  But to my astonishment and indignation, “Bully” turned on me furiously, called me a meddlesome young fool, prefixing the “fool” with some very strong adjectives, and then, losing all control of himself, he sprang at one of the members of the deputation ­the youngest and strongest ­and lifting him up in his arms, literally forced the unfortunate young man out of the house ­not by the door, but through the side, tearing a hole in the thin lattice woodwork big enough to admit a bollock.  The remainder of the deputation at once retired, and, as I have mentioned in the previous chapter, “Bully” and myself parted, each deeply incensed.

Harry, who had a large following of wild, intractable Pleasant Islanders, all of whom were armed with Snider rifles, moved over to the opposite shore of Utwe Harbour with “the three Graces and the fourth chucked in,” promising to come and see me at Leasse after he had “settled down a bit.”

My reason for removing to Leasse was that I knew the place very well through frequent visits there, and Eusis, the head man or chief, had constantly pressed me to come there and live; so a few hours after my quarrel with Hayes I made a start, accompanied by two Strong’s Islanders named Sru and Nana, both of whom came from Leasse, and were delighted that I was leaving Utwe to come to their own village.

They assured me that I was doing wisely in leaving the captain, that the people of Leasse would gladly receive me, and that I would find great pig-hunting and pigeon-shooting among the dense forests that lay at the back of the village.

Our way lay over the waters of a deep but winding lagoon, which from Utwe to Coquille Harbour is bounded on the ocean side by a chain of narrow, thickly wooded, and fertile islets, the haunt of myriads of sea-birds and giant robber crabs.  This chain of islets lay on our left hand; on our right the steep, forest-clad mountains of Strong’s Island rose abruptly from the still waters of the lagoon.  The lagoon itself averaged about a mile in width, and here and there, dotted upon its placid, glassy surface, were tiny isolated islets of perhaps not more than an acre in extent, but covered with a dense mass of the loveliest verdure imaginable, from the centre of which rose a group of half a dozen or so of stately coco-nut palms.  Each islet was encircled by a snow-white beach, descending abruptly to the water, the great depth of which enabled us to paddle within a foot or so of the shore.

We had left Utwe just after daylight, and though the trade-wind was blowing freshly outside and we could hear the thunder of the ocean rollers pounding on the outside reef beyond the encircling chain of islets half a mile away, scarcely the faintest breath of air disturbed the blue depths of the lagoon.  The canoe was light and our three paddles sent her over the waters at a great rate.  My two companions were both young men, and, unlike most of the people of Strong’s Island, who are a reserved and melancholy race, they laughed and sang merrily to the strokes of their red-stained paddles.

Here and there, as we skimmed along the shore of the forest-clad mountains of the mainland, we would pass a village of six or seven houses, and the small-made, light-complexioned folk would, as they heard the sound of our voices, come out and eagerly beseech us to come in “and eat and rest awhile.”

But pleased as I would have been to have landed and accepted their hospitality ­for I was known to every native on the island ­my crew urged me not to delay so early on our journey.  Sometimes, however, these kindly-hearted people would not be denied, and boys and girls would run parallel to our canoe along the beach and implore Sru and Nana and the “white man” to stay “just a little, just a very, very little time, and tell them the news from Utwe.”

And then, as we rested on our paddles and talked, under pretence of getting closer to us they would dash into the water and seizing the gunwales of the canoe laughingly insist upon our coming ashore and entering their cool houses, and indeed it was hard to resist their blandishments.  Then, once we were inside, they would tell us that they would not let us go till we had eaten and drunk a little.

A little!  Basket after basket of cooked fish, crayfish, pigeons, baked pork, bunches of bananas and kits of oranges and heaps of luscious pineapples would be placed before us, and they seemed absolutely pained at my inability to eat more than a few mouthfuls.  All the men at these isolated villages were away at Leasse or elsewhere in the vicinity of Coquille Harbour, and the women and young girls pretended to be very much frightened at being left by themselves for a couple of days.  They were afraid, they said, that Captain Hayes’s wild Pleasant Island natives might come up the lagoon and harry their villages ­wouldn’t we stay with them till their husbands and brothers came back?

Now, we knew all this was nonsense.  There was no fear of the Pleasant Islanders’ boats coming up the lagoon to these little villages when there was richer prey nearer at hand, so we only laughed.  Many of the young boys and girls were of great personal beauty, and, indeed, so were many of the young unmarried women, but their light skins were stained and disfigured by the application of turmeric.  At one of these places our pretty tormentors played us a trick.  While we were in a house and having kava prepared in the Micronesian fashion, by pounding the green root into a hollowed stone, the girls carried our canoe up bodily from the beach and hid it in a clump of breadfruit trees about two hundred yards away.  When we bade goodbye to the elder women, who had given us the kava, and walked down to the beach the canoe was gone.

“Here, you girls,” said Nana, “where is our canoe?  Don’t play these foolish tricks; the white man must get to Leasse before darkness sets in.”

But the imps only laughed at us, and for some minutes we had a great game with them, chasing them about.  At last we tired of this, and, lighting our pipes, sat down to smoke under a great banyan, whose branches reached far out over the white beaches.  One of the children, a merry-eyed girl of ten, with long hair that almost touched her knees, was a bit of a humorist, and told us that we might as well stay for the night, as the canoe was gone for ever.

“Where to?” we asked.

“Up there,” she answered, with the gravest countenance imaginable, pointing skyward.  “A big kanapu (fish eagle) was soaring overhead, and suddenly swooped down and seized it in his claws and flew away into the blue with it.”

At last, however, they came back, carrying the canoe among them, and with much laughter dropped it into the water.  Then they filled it with as many young drinking coco-nuts and as much fruit as we could stow, and bade us farewell, running along the beach with us till a high, steep bluff shut them off from following us any further.

By and by, as we paddled along, the sun began to get pretty hot, and we kept in as close as possible under the shade of the steep shores of the mainland.  Overhead was a sky of matchless, cloudless blue, and sailing to and fro on motionless wing were numbers of tropic birds, their long scarlet retrices showing in startling contrast to their snow-white body plumage.  All round about us turtle would rise every now and then, and taking a look at us, sink out of sight again.  From the dense mountain forest, that earlier in the morning had resounded with the heavy booming note of the great grey pigeons and the cooing note of the little purple doves, not a sound now came forth, for the birds were roosting in the shade from the heat of the sun.  Half a mile or so away, through a break in the chain of low islets, we could see the tumbling blue of the ocean, and over the tree-tops the white spume of the breakers as they leapt upon the iron-bound coast.

We made fast our canoe to a jutting point of rock and rested awhile and smoked.  The tide was on the flow, and as the water came swirling and eddying in from the great passage in the reef five miles away, there came with it countless thousands of fish of the mullet species, seeking their food among the mangrove creeks and flats that lay behind us.  They did not swim in an orderly, methodical fashion, but leapt and spun and danced about as if thrown up out of the water by some invisible power beneath.  Sometimes they would rise simultaneously, thousands at a time, and, taking a leap, descend again with an extraordinary noise.  Then, quick as lightning, they would make three or four such leaps in succession with the regularity and precision of machinery.  Hovering and fluttering above them on tireless wing were numbers of sea-birds, which ever and again darted down amongst them and rose with hoarse, triumphant note, prey in mouth.

We lay resting quietly till the incoming tide had spent its strength, and then once more pushed out into the transparent depths of the lagoon.  Bight ahead of us, after another hour’s paddling, lay a long, gleaming point of sand covered with a grove of palms; beyond that a wide sweep of pale green shallow water; beyond that again the wild tumble and fret of the surf on the barrier reef.

Laying down our paddles ­for we were now in shallow water ­we took up our three long canoe poles, and striking them on the hard, sandy bottom in unison we sent the canoe spinning round to the point, and as we rounded it there lay before us the brown roofs of the village of Leasse nestling under the shade of its groves.  This was, as I have said, to be my home for many long but happy months.