Matin's Husbands

By Helen Nurton.

Glossary.

Mary .. .. Woman Monkey .. .. Boy Kiap .. .. District Officer Maskee So let it be! Very well!

It doesn’t matter! etc.

SHE came to me one afternoon, as I sat on the verandah of my bungalow in New Ireland. There was a harassed expression on her little, puckered, brown face, and her voice was tremulous, as though with pain.

“Missus,” she said, “me like work long you feller.”

Taken by surprise. I enquired about her accomplishments.

“Me savvy wash clothes,” she replied, with a certain amount of query in her voice, as though she was not quite sure whether she could, or not.

Unable to resist the appeal of her brown eye, I engaged her, then and there, to be my wash-Mary.

Half-an-hour later a very black skinned, perspiring young policeboy, brist ling with indignation, came bouncing up to the back steps of the verandah.

“Me like catchim Mary belong me,” he spluttered, with an authoritative tone m his voice.

“Me no like!” squealed Matin, from the house-cook, where she was lurking; “me stop along Missus.”

“What name belong you feller?” I de manded of this agitated arm of the law.

“Cumcukooloo,” he warbled, springing to attention, throwing out his black, shiny chest, and slapping his heels together with such force that his cap, dangling over his right eye, tumbled off.

Acting as peacemaker, I suggested that Matin should go home with him, then, and come along every morning to work.

To this they both agreed, and departed smiling.

From beneath the bungalow, the follow ing morn, came many strange noises, as we sat at breakfast. Loud clankings of kerosene tins, and tubs; splashings of water; suppressed giggles, and masculine

guffaws! Presently dense fumes of acrid smoke from damp, burning wood came oozing through the cracks of the flooring.

Matin was on the job.

Lae, the cook-boy, and Dau, the house boy, who should have been waiting at table, had found unexpected jobs to do under the house—hence the guffaws; while Ramon, the little 10-years-old “monkey," looked on superciliously.

For a week or two, everything went along as merrily as marriage bells. And then Matin came, and asked permission to go bush for “one moon, das all.”

“What for?” I asked.

“Cumcukooloo go along Kiap; me like go too.”

“What for?” I asked again.

“Cumcukooloo like catchim ’nother fel ler Mary, and more better me go.”

“All right,” I replied, weakly, thinking that all men were tantalising creatures.

“You go lookoutim Cumcukooloo.”

In a month’s time Matin returned with the puckered look, plus a frown.

“Where Cumcukooloo?” I asked.

“Stop along house police.” Then she added, with a grimace: “Catchim ’nother feller Mary finish,” and burst into roars of laughter. I joined in heartily, feeling relieved at her sense of humor. “Maskee”

I murmured. “You stop good along Mis sus.”

For quite six weeks Matin “stopped good along Missus,” washing and ironing industriously, scouring the bare boards of the verandah till they looked like the deck of a ship; taking long “limlimburs” (walks) with her Missus, proving herself

a faithful little companion, and acting as guide, philosopher, and friend.

But this state of bliss was not to last.

From the ranks of the workboys, a large, rawboned Islander, nicknamed

Matin

“Tommy,” seemed to linger around the house, cutting grass.

Matin was leaning conspicuously over the verandah rails.

“Matin,” I said, “what name this feller boy he cuttim grass close to along house?”

“Em he like married along me feller,” she simpered.

“You no can,” I snapped, feeling indig nant, “you married plenty time too much now,” knowing that several husbands had preceded Cumcukooloo.

But it was no use. Matin sulked, and the grass around the bungalow began to take on the appearance of an English lawn. So “Tommy” bought her for £2 from her nearest relatives, and they took up residence in a tiny sac-sac house in the married quarters.

Matin was now a lady at large, strolling grandly around the station in a new blouse every day.

About three months later, as I sat, one quiet evening, soliloquizing, and watching the policeboys rattle down to salute the flag, hanging limply from the pole, a meek voice came to me from the dusk: “Missus, Tommy finish time; he go back long place: me like wash clothes belong you feller.”

Turning, I spied Matin’s little puckered face.

“But, Matin,” I said, “you married finish along Tommy. What for you no go one time along him?”

“Me no like,” she pouted. “Long way too much!”

“All right, Matin,” I replied, resignedly, knowing that it would be useless to waste words. “You stop good along Missus” — wondering how long it would last this time.

But in a few weeks’ time, catching sight of Lae, the cook, making eyes at her, I had a sudden inspiration. I would marry him to Matin, and so have peace at last.

“Lae,” I said, going into the house-cook, where, smothered in flour, he was pound ing away at the dough, making bread.

“You like married along Matin?”

“Yes, me like,” he replied, simply, beam ing from ear to ear, and showing a mouthful of large, white teeth, his faithful, doggy eyes shining.

“You like married along Lae?” I asked, dodging under the house, where Matin was busy, ironing clothes.

“Whee-ee-ee!” she whistled, “me no like” —doubling up, and going into spasms of laughter. I departed, crestfallen.

A month later, I asked her again.

“Whee-ee-e,” she whistled, but not so vociferously, and I felt hopeful.

Again I asked, this time with a threat in my voice: “You like married along Lae?”

“Me like,” she replied, with lowered lashes.

“Ah, that good fashion, Matin,” I said, approvingly. “Bimeby you two feller mar ried true; Lae he good feller.”

“Me savvy,” she replied, meekly.

“How much nuf long you?” I asked, knowing that she would have to be bought according to native custom.

“One pound nuf long me,” was the modest reply.

Feeling relieved that I had succeeded in my matchmaking, I ascended to the upper regions of the bungalow. I would have a nice little wedding for them. Frangi panni, and the sweet-scented jasmine trailing over the verandah rails, would decorate Matin’s hair, and ornament her new white blouse, and lap-lap; whilst Lae would have a new pair of white shorts, for which his heart had been longing, and there would be plenty “kai-kai” all round.

Matin went about her work very de murely, and I felt that she was in a chas tened frame of mind.

Next afternoon, as I sat on my veran dah sewing, my little “monkey,” Ramon, came slithering up to have a “chip” with me.

“Missus,” he queried archly, “you sewim up what name something?”

“Me sewim up clothes belong Matin; bimeby ’e married true along Lae.”

A supercilious smile spread over his pointed elf-like features, while his little, heart-shaped ear-rings, cut from a three pennybit, glinted in the sun, as he wisely shook his head.

“Missus, you piccaninny true ’ere,” he smirked. “Matin ’e stop all time along house belong Lae; two feller married long time finish.” (Mistress, your boy will tell you the truth. Matin has been living in Lae’s house for a long time — those two have been married for quite a while.)