Part 14

Far up the great river there once dwelt three clans in brotherly love, planting on the same lands, and giving their women to one another in marriage. Brothers in arms they were, and staunch allies whenever the hordes of Tholo made a descent upon them; nor could the elders remember any interruption in their friendship except once, when the pigs of Valekau destroyed the yam-gardens of Rara, and their owners would make no reparation. But this was long ago, and the tradition had become misty.

Rara stood upon a high bluff on a bend of the river, precipitous on three sides, and protected on the fourth by two ditches and an earthwork. Valekau, sprung from the same ancestors and worshipping the same gods, was built upon a lower hill a mile away, and set back from the river-bank. It needed no protection but a war-fence on the crest of the hill, and the gate was an arch formed by the roots of a great banian-tree, so narrow that one warrior only could pass it at a time. Tovutovu lay in the plain on the other side of the river. Five ditches encircled it, having war-fences between each, and the gates were cunningly devised, so that he who would enter must encompass the town three times between the palisades before he could pass all the gates, for none was opposite to the other. Tovutovu had not the same gods as Rara, having descended later from the mountains to the plain. But in peace-time they planted together, and the women fished _kais_ in the common fishing-ground; and when the _lali_ beat for war, the young men painted their faces and lay in ambush together, and the women and children hid together in the forest behind Rara.

Now strange things began to be brought up the river. First there were rumours of foreigners who came up from the ocean in canoes like islands for bigness. This, they thought, was but another lie of their enemies, the coast-people. Next Seru of Rara brought a thing more solid than rumour--an adze made of a hard substance that cut deep into the toughest wood which the stone adze only chipped. The man who gave it in Kasava told him that it was the least of the strange things the foreigners had brought, and that the foreigners had white skins like lepers, and covered them up with bark-cloth, being ashamed to show aught but their faces because of the colour. Also their noses were as long as bananas, and they spoke with women’s voices.

Thenceforward the young men made many journeys down the river as far as they dared, and brought back with them other strange things--cloth not made from bark, but of a substance that could be washed without injury, and iron of many shapes that could be beaten out between two stones into adze-blades; and one of them brought back a tale of a devil the foreigners had which thundered, and every time it thundered a man fell dead, pierced through the body with an unseen spear. There was much striving between the clans to possess these strange things, and they were begged of the young men, and begged again of him to whom they were given, so that they passed from one to another until each of the elders had called them his. But they all yearned to possess the devil of the foreigners that thundered, and the young men made many journeys hoping to possess one, and returned with many things, but always without this devil that they wanted. And one day when the youths of Rara returned from down the river, the young man Bativundi came running to the elders of Valekau as they sat at sunset in the great _bure_.

“The youths of Rara have returned from below, and it is said that they have brought with them a wonderful thing with which the foreigners take fish. It is a stick that grows long at will, as a bamboo shoots up from the ground; and from the top there comes a string, having at the end a fly with a hook hidden in its belly. This is the way of it. A man holds the stick in his hand and waves it, and the stick, being pliable, makes the fly dance upon the water; and whether it be magic, or whether the fish be befooled, I know not, yet they bite the fly and are pierced with the hook, and so drawn to land. No such thing has been seen in our land, for one man between sunrise and mid-day can take more fish than all Valekau can eat.”

“_Kombo!_” cried the elders. “Let us send an embassy to Rara to beg this stick that we may eat fish and live.”

So on the morrow Nkio took a root of _yangona_ in his hand and went to Rara, saying, “I am come to beg the stick with which fish are taken. It is the word of the chiefs of Valekau, your relations, that I beg this stick.”

Now the men of Rara had touched the _yangona_-root, and clapped their hands, and they sat silent as if not knowing what answer to make. But at last one of them said, “Be not angry, Nkio, but return to Valekau, saying, ‘We are a poor land, and it is difficult to grant your request.’” So Nkio returned and spoke as he had been bidden.

Valekau sat in council, and their hearts were grieved. Did Rara weigh their friendship so lightly that they wantonly refused a gift begged with the proper ceremonies? It was a gross insult. Rara esteemed them as slaves, things of no account, to be flouted at will; but they should know that a long peace does not blunt the spears nor paralyse the arms of Valekau. The bodies of their youths were not gross with slothful ease, nor the limbs of their elders stiff with wallowing on the mats. This insult must be paid for! But how? Then spoke Bonawai, the Odysseus of the tribe, versed in all the wiles and craft that bring a people to greatness--_Bonawai na dau vere_, Bonawai the schemer.

“Hearken!” he said, contracting his brows until his wicked eyes gleamed like fire-sticks. “Rara is a stronghold set upon a hill, and the young men within it are as the _kai_-shells about the cooking-places for multitude, and they have Wanganivanua and Tumbanasolo, both terrible in war. If a man would climb the hill on this side, surely his body would be like a _balawa_-tree at the cross-roads, at which the boys throw their reeds, so thick would it be stuck with spears; and if we lie in ambush for their women when they dig the yams, and bring the bodies home to be baked, we should not triumph long, for they would come upon us at first cock-crow, and if they feared to scale the war-fence, they would bind balls of lighted _masi_ to their spear-heads and throw them into the thatch to windward, and while we were scurrying about foolishly, like ants whose nest the digging-stick has probed, striving to extinguish the fire, they would leap the fence and club us in the darkness from behind. For I know the men of Rara how crafty and subtle they are in wiles of war; yet there is none among them so crafty as I. Now listen! Across the river are the men of Tovutovu. Let us send to them, saying, ‘Come! You are our brothers. In Rara there is much plunder, and women fair to look upon, and the men are puffed up with pride,--living as they do in so strong a fortress,--and call you and us their slaves. They have, besides, a certain stick--a magic contrivance of the foreigners--that takes fish until a man wearies of holding it. This we begged of them that we might give it to you, but they, knowing our intention, refused. Therefore, come! Let us wipe them out, and we will divide the spoil and the dead bodies and the slave-women as becomes chiefs.’ And if it happen that Rara be too strong for us, and we be repulsed, then we will send whales’ teeth to them, saying, ‘The men of Tovutovu seduced us, but if ye will, we will join you and cross the river and club these strangers of Tovutovu, dividing the spoil and the dead bodies as becomes chiefs.’ These are my words to you!”

And the elders cried, “_Vinaka, Vinaka!_” and clapped their hands.

Then an embassy was chosen,--Mawi, the left-handed, and Waleka, the orator,--and they took a whale’s tooth and crossed over to Tovutovu in the night, and spoke the words of Bonawai as they had been bidden. And the elders of Tovutovu took the whale’s tooth in token that they would do the behest of which it was an emblem; and the young men prepared black paint for their faces, and streamers of smoked _masi_ for their elbows, and turbans, and dyed rushes for leg-ornaments, and arrayed themselves for war. And they came out into the square in the evening before the elders and the women, and boasted, looking very terrible with their weapons. And one ran forward and smote the earth thrice with his club, so that it trembled, and he cried, “Fear not, aged men, this club is your shield!” And another took his place, and gnashed his teeth, crying, “My name is ‘Man-eater.’ The corpses of Rara are my food!” And another cried, “My arms rest only when I am clubbing!” And another, “Lead me on, for I bark for human flesh!”

So they became exceeding bold with their boasting, each vying with the other, and the maidens saw their valour and admired them, and the elders laughed, crying, “Well done!” And towards evening the words of Bonawai came to them, bidding them cross over under cover of the night and attack Rara from the front at first cock-crow, for Valekau would yield them the place of honour, and themselves attack from the forest. So when evening was come they crossed the river at the bend where the bananas are, and came out into the yam-gardens. Here two old women of Rara were carrying home loads of firewood on their backs, fearing nothing, for it was peace-time; but when they saw the blackened faces of the warriors and the weapons they shrieked loudly, and threw down their burdens to run towards Rara. But the army of Tovutovu set upon them, and Rasolo, being swiftest of foot, reached them first, and slew them with his throwing-club as they lay upon the ground crying for mercy, and shielding their heads with their hands. Then they went to Valekau to wait until the moon set. And about midnight the men of Valekau left them and climbed into the forest, so as to descend upon Rara from behind, and intercept the fugitives, saying, “Let us attack just before the birds awake, for then is sleep heaviest upon men.”

So before the first cock crowed the men of Tovutovu crept up the hill from all sides, and the army of Valekau crawled down the ridge in the forest to attack the war-fence at the back of the fortress; but ere they reached it a green parrot heard them, and flew shrieking to its mates, “Awake, awake!” and a man of Rara, who chanced to be without, said within himself, “A green parrot never cries save when alarmed by men, and men are not abroad at this hour save for some evil,” so he cried to his fellows in the great _bure_, “There is war! Make ready!” And they, suddenly awakened, snatched every man a weapon, and ran hither and thither in the darkness, not knowing what they did. And the women shrieked, and the children wailed, and there was a great uproar. And when the men of Valekau heard it they leapt into the ditch, caring nothing for the sharp stakes, and tore down the war-fence, and thrust fire-sticks into the thatch of the houses, and the wind from the forest fanned the glow into a flame, and the thatch was ignited so that it became as light as day. The men of Rara stopped not to strike at them, but fled down the hill towards the river like a mountain torrent after rain; and as the torrent sweeps away the dead wood that has choked its bed, so they bore down the army of Tovutovu before them, who, thinking themselves attacked, struck at them and fled, leaving the way clear. And so eager were the men of Valekau for plunder, that not one pursued, and all escaped but some women and children who knew not whither to flee. So Rara was burned, and their yam-gardens destroyed, and the army of Valekau carried away the plunder and the dead bodies, and shared them with Tovutovu as became chiefs. But though they searched diligently, yet they did not find the cause of the war--the stick with which fish are taken; and they sent to Tovotovu, saying, “If we had found it, it should have been your portion; but the Kai Rara are crafty, and must have buried it. Yet we send you bodies for the oven.” Thus was Rara wiped out, and Valekau and Tovutovu divided the spoil.

Now the people of Rara fled into the forest and dwelt there many days, eating wild yams, and seeking a place to flee to. And they sent messengers down the river to the chiefs of Korokula asking for protection, and leave to settle on their lands. And when the messengers returned they removed thither and built houses at Lawai, a little below Korokula, and their young men worked for Korokula, planting yams and bananas, and taking food in return until their own should be ripe. But the chiefs of Korokula oppressed them, saying, “These are fugitives. Are they not our slaves to do as we will with?” And they killed their pigs, and took their women as it pleased them. And the men of Rara murmured, but endured, not knowing whither to flee. But at last, on a certain day, a chief of Korokula was thirsty, and had no _yangona_, and he said to his young men, “I have seen a great root growing on the house foundation of Dongai of Rara. Go and tear it up, and chew it here before me that we may drink.” And the men of Rara said among themselves, “They have killed our pigs, and taken our women, and we bore it. Now they tear up our _yangona_. How can this be endured? Yet we are not strong enough to set upon them, for they are more numerous than we. Let us now send an atonement to Valekau, and ask for peace to rebuild our houses upon our own earth and upon the foundations of our ancestors.” So they took whales’ teeth, and sent them by the hand of a herald to Valekau. And when the elders of Valekau doubted whether they should take them, the crafty Bonawai counselled them, saying, “There is now peace, but we are few in number. What if the tribes above descend upon us? How shall we alone resist them? Let Rara return, for in war they will help us against our enemies, and in peace they will fear us and do our bidding. Of this the whales’ teeth are a token.” So they accepted the atonement, and the fugitives returned, and rebuilt their houses upon their own earth and upon the foundations of their ancestors. And Valekau made a great feast for them, and presented it with all the proper ceremonies in token that the past was forgotten.

Now, after many months, when the yams were ripe again, the men of Rara began to speak among themselves of how they might best repay the debt they owed to Valekau; and the elder, Dongai, counselled them, saying, “This Valekau is puffed up with pride, and all men hate them. It was but yesterday that I heard Tabuanisoro of Tovutovu say that his people were weary of their doings. Of ourselves we are too few to repay them, but if Tovutovu were our allies---- Let us therefore make a feast for them, and try them.” So they made a feast, and challenged Tovutovu to play at _tinka_ with them. And the young men of Tovutovu brought their _ulutoa_[3] to the _tinka_-ground and were victorious. And in the evening, when the elders were drinking _yangona_ in the great _bure_, Dongai spoke a parable to them. “The blue heron saw the rat eating fish that the tide had left, and he asked for it; but the rat said, ‘The gods sent this fish for me and mine, and they have given thee a long beak wherewith to catch fish in the pools where I cannot go.’ Then the blue heron was angry and spoke to the crab, saying, ‘This fellow is become a fish-eater and takes our food. Come, let us drive him out, and thy portion shall be the hole that he has made.’ So they came upon the rat in the night-time, and the crab nipped his tail and he fled. But the crab did not have his hole, for the blue heron took it. And he was puffed up with pride, and flapped his wings, and said to the crab, ‘My legs are longer than thine, therefore am I set a chief over thee. Bring me thy fish.’ Is this a true story, chiefs of Tovutovu?”

And they said, “Yes, it is true.”

And he said, “Now hear what the crab did. The rat came back and spoke to the crab, saying, ‘Why didst thou bite my tail? Did I refuse thee fish? If thou hadst asked me I would have given thee all my fish. My quarrel was with the blue heron, yet thou camest in the night and nipped my tail; and now the blue heron oppresses us both. But he sleeps at night. Now thou shalt go and seize him by the foot, and I will climb upon his back, and bite his neck, and he shall not fly away because thou shalt hold his foot between thy pincers. When he is dead we will share the fish of all the coast between us, but thou shalt have the greater share.’”

And for a space all looked upon the ground and picked at the mats with their fingers. Then Tambuanisoro said, “It is a good story, and also true!”

And on the morrow Rara and Tovutovu took the first-fruits of the yams to Valekau as men take the first-fruits to a great chief. And they said, “You are now our fortress and our head. These are the wretched first-fruits of our barren gardens, for you know that we are a poor people not meet to offer food to chiefs.” And then they piled the great yams high in the square, and bound live pigs beside the pile, and the men of Valekau accepted them, and their senses were dulled by the flattery. And they made a feast for their guests, and the ovens were opened about sunset, so they feasted until late in the night.

Then Dongai said, “It is yet day. Have you no dance? The dance is fitting when the men are filled with pig.”

And the elders of Valekau called to their young men to make ready, and Dongai said, “I will send our young men to the forest to get torches.” And he sent them, saying, “Go and make torches of reeds, and bring in secretly whatever the women have brought you from Rara.” And they went out into the road and called softly, and the women came out of the reeds and gave them clubs hidden in bunches of dry reeds like torches; and the men cut reeds and made torches there and returned to the town, having in the right hands a lighted torch, and in the left the torch that hid their clubs. Then the men of Valekau danced before the chiefs a war-dance with spears and clubs, the elders beating the ground with the bamboo drums, and the chiefs of Rara and Tovutovu applauded, crying “_Vinaka!_” many times; but Dongai said, “This is well done, but my men know a stranger dance than this--a war-dance taught by the gods of the old time, but now forgotten.” And Bonawai laughed and said, “_Veka._ Do your young men know things that are forgotten, and can they surpass ours in the dance?” And Dongai said, “Who knows? Let them be tried. Only they have left their dresses and their weapons in Rara.”

So Bonawai called to the youths of Valekau, who stood panting and sweating behind the torches: “Take ye the torches, and give your clubs to these gods of Rara who can dance better than ye.” And the men of Rara took the clubs, and squatted four deep with the weapons poised, while the elders beat the drums and chanted. And the men of Valekau derided them, for their faces were not blacked for dancing.

Now the men of Ram had given their spare torches to the men of Tovutovu, and as they stood in the shadows behind the torches they stripped the reeds from the clubs and held them behind their backs. And suddenly the dancers rose with a great shout, and rushed forward with brandished clubs, making the earth tremble. Then they retreated, and again rushed forward, spreading in a line facing the elders of Valekau as they sat under the cocoa-nut palms, and as they whirled their clubs in the dance the leader cried “_Ravu!_” (strike), and they struck, but not in the air, for every man struck the head of the man before him. And the men of Tovutovu struck at the torchbearers from behind, and the rest fled, crying, “Treachery!” But when they reached the upper gate the men of Rara stood there, and cried, “Payment!” and when they would escape by the lower gate they found the men of Tovutovu there also, and in their madness they tore down the war-fence and leaped into the ditch, where many were impaled on the sharp stakes they themselves had set up. And the victors fired the houses, and ran hither and thither clubbing all they met; and had it not been for the darkness surely none would have escaped, for the men of Rara pitied none save a few women they took alive for slaves, but ran about crying “Bring torches!” and slaying. So that night was called _Mai-na-cina_ (bring torches), because of the cry of Rara as they were slaying. Thus was Valekau wiped out, and Rara and Tovutovu divided the spoil.

Now the men of Valekau fled to the forest, and they counted those who were missing, and mourned over them. And Bonawai said, “This has been a grievous night, and there must be payment for it, but not now, for many brave warriors are fallen, and many of our _katikati_,[4] therefore are we become as helpless as the straws whirled onward by a swift current. Let us flee to the caves, and dwell there until our way be plain.” So they dwelt many months in the caves, eating wild yams and bush-pigs.

And after many months the chiefs of Rara, whose mothers were Valekau women, said, “Let our vasu return, for it is a shame to us that our mothers’ folk should be rooting in the forest like wild boars. Also they are few, and cannot harm us.” And the chiefs of Tovutovu agreed. So messengers were sent to the caves, saying, “Your _vasu_ bid you return and fear not.”

So they returned and built houses upon their own earth and upon the foundations of their ancestors, only they did not repair their war-fences. And they planted yams, and dug them, and planted them again, and still there was peace; but Bonawai pondered deeply in those days how the payment might be accomplished.

Now they took their first-fruits to Rara in token of submission, and Bonawai presented them and said, “We are poor. All our chiefs are gone, and only we, the low-born, remain to bring this poor offering to you, our elder brothers. Payment has been made as is right; for between brothers ill-will is buried when payment has been made, and alliances are renewed for war against the stranger. But my words are too long already--_Mana-e-dina!_”

And the men of Rara answered, “_Va-arewa-ia-ē_,” and clapped their hands.

And that night Vasualevu of Rara, whose mother was a Valekau woman, spoke to his _vasu_, and asked whether Bonawai’s words were double. And they said, “Yes. We had a quarrel with you about a certain stick with which fish are taken--a magic contrivance of the foreigners--and we burned your fortress, and you in turn burned ours. Thus there was payment as is fitting between brothers. But with these low-born of Tovutovu we had no quarrel, neither had ye, yet they burned both your town and ours, and baked the bodies of your relations, and even now they feed the pigs they took from Rara and Valekau. All this they did though they are not our brothers, but strangers. Shall not payment be taken for all these things?”

And Vasualevu told the elders of Rara that night as they lay in the great _bure_, and Dongai said, “Are the words true or false? Surely they are true! What root of quarrel had we with this Tovutovu that they clubbed our women and burned our fortress? But for them we should not have been fugitives, oppressed of Korokula, for Valekau dared not to fight us alone. Even now, perhaps, they laugh at us in Tovutovu, and grow fat upon our pigs. Shall not payment be taken for all these things?”

And the elders said, “It is true. Let us send to Bonawai, the crafty, to devise a plan.”

So they sent a messenger to Valekau, and he said, “Go, tell the chiefs of Rara that I have seen their great _bure_. It is ruinous, for the king-post is rotten. Let Tovutovu cut them a new post.” Now this was true, for when the _bure_ was burned the king-post was not consumed, and they rebuilt the house, using the old post.