Romance of Penrhyn Pearl-

“Once Aboard The

Lugger—”

Romance of Penrhyn Pearl- King

By Julian Hillas.

TF you should happen to visit the island A of Penrhyn, you will certainly meet there Philip Woonton; for to all intents and purposes “Philipa” is Penrhyn, and vice versa.

There are roughly two hundred pounds of him, and his voice, when all the stops are out, goes right into the amplifier class.

In these times of effete Island residents ne is something of an anachronism, being the possessor of those boisterous and genial qualities more commonly associated with the “good old bad days” of the 70’s or 80’s, when rum was really rhum, and not all women were wives.

Woonton was a young man when he first came to Penrhyn as mate of the trading schooner Vaite, about the begin ning of the century. Leaving the sea to settle ashore, he speedily established him self as a dominant figure in the pearling industry; and if you buy good pearls in Penrhyn to-day they will probably be from him, because he now acquires pretty well all that are worth acquiring.

I remember an occasion when our schooner had just berthed, and the late Tom Wilson, one of the most charmingly casual characters Penrhyn ever sheltered, told Woonton that he had left a registered package on the latter’s verandah.

“Philipa” bounded ' out of the saloon and over the gang-plank before any of us could set down our glasses. The “package,” he explained later, contained only between £7OOO and £BOOO worth of pearls returned unsold from his London agents!

Now the history of pearls hhs always been associated with great romances and the pearl-trader into whose life romance had not sprung would be no sort of a figure to write about. Romance not merely sprang into young Woonton’s life; it posi tively hurled itself in—romance of the epic-making variety which long ago “launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilion.” For a day came when “Philipa” had to leave Penrhyn on pressing business—and he did not want to leave alone.

“Farewell, Romance,” the traders cried, “Our keels have lain with every sea.

The dull returning wind and tide Heave up the wharf where we would be; The known and noted breezes swell Our trudging sails. Romance, farewell!”

That was about how things were. Only, on the subject of farewell, “Philipa” had his own ideas. He had fallen hopelessly and desperately in love with Maara, whose parents—as often happens in Penrhyn— could come to no unanimous decision re garding their daughter’s future.

But delay was irksome to the lovers, and, meanwhile, the schooner was due to leave. Would Maara elope? Maara would —and, with the captain’s connivance, she was stowed away in a sail locker.

But, unfortunately, the islanders had suspicious minds, and the whole com munity, tramping down to the little wharf, refused to let the vessel go until they had searched her from stern to fo’c’sle.

Tearfully, Maara was led ashore by local deacons of the Church —but not be fore “Philipa” had whispered certain in structions in her shell-like ear.

The Vaite warped clear; and Maara,

left to her own devices, scuttled away through the “bush” to a spot on the outer beach opposite one of the many narrow fissures in the reef which at this point fringes the shore. Half an hour later the schooner was abreast of where she lay, and without waiting for the pre-arranged signal, she immediately plunged into the water.

On board, “Philipa” watched the white line of the surf as it went booming thun derously along the reef, stabbing the air with spray-geysers which hung like plumes waved against a vivid green back ground of palm fronds. He needed no telling that in such a sea neither Maara nor any other girl could ever make the

pdssage.

Davit blocks squealed, the Yaite’s only boat was lowered, and pulled away with Woonton and two natives at the oars. As they approached, it became increasingly evident that Maara would never be able either to fight her way through or struggle back to the beach. The breakers rolled her over and over and her long hair, secured by a single comb, slipped down, and, floating loose, impeded her every movement.

Stripping to his singlet, “Philipa” swam in with the intention of bringing Maara out to the boat. But, once in the sinister grip of those seas, he quickly realised the impossibility of such a task. His only chance lay in getting her over the reef and back on shore.

By this time, the schooner’s unusual behaviour had been noticed, and the en tire settlement were gathering on the sands where, with a peculiar mixture of hysteria and fatalism, they wrung their hands and wailed in shrill chorus as each wave lifted the unfortunate girl.

Supporting Maara with one arm, “Philipa” found it was all he could do to keep afloat. Twice he tried to reach the reef, but each time the backwash swept him out again before he could obtain a footing.

With something akin to panic, he re cognised that his own strength was fail ing. Unless he succeeded now, it would not be sufficient to make a fourth attempt.

Very grimly, with death lurking in the swirling waters about him, Woonton drove forward, and again, just as his feet touched coral, the backwash started to sweep him out. Reaching out desperately, his fingers encountered a small projec tion, and to this he clung with the tenacity of despair. The strain of their double weight was terrific, but the knob-like thing held until the next incoming wave carried them up on to the reef, from whence he was able to wade across to the beach.

Pushing through the excited crowd, he laid the now unconscious Maara on the sand, and standing over her, applied arti ficial respiration. Whilst thus engaged, an infuriated relative, believing the girl dead, flung himself—knife in hand —at Woonton’s back, and was only prevented from accomplishing his purpose by the timely intervention of an old woman, who seized his arm as he was about to strike.

On Maara’s recovering consciousness, everyone became deliriously happy; and, since it was impossible for “Philipa” to board the schooner where she was, the whole party set out for the village, singing and dancing as they went.

With that swift change of emotion characteristic of Polynesians, Maara’s family decided “Philipa” had now rightly earned their daughter's affection, and, with great haste, her belongings were packed in a large camphor-wood chest, with brass handles and name-plate.

Unanimity had at last been reached, and, as the Vaite appeared on the lee side of the island, all Penrhyn, for the third and final time that day, tramped across the sands to meet her.

In the centre of the procession were “Philipa” and Maara, and, directly behind them, came the brass-bound chest—borne by those same deacons whose earlier con duct had been so different!

A fortnight afterwards the wedding bells pealed in Tahiti, sealing a romance which lasted until Maara, ten years later, passed beyond the friendly call of human voices, out through the shifting cold twi light to some white tremendous daybreak on the other side of life, where perhaps—• “ on the Ideal Reef, Thunders the Everlasting Sea.”

Mile. Andree Luquet, of Noumea, reach ed Sydney by the Van Rees on October 13, en route to France, where she will seek fame as a film actress.

Miss C. Dusting, who was for some years an honorary missionary sister in Fiji for the Methodist Mission, died re cently in Victoria.

Mr. P, Kodanda Rao, M.A., of the Ser vants of India Society, who has been studying the life and conditions of the Indian community in Fiji, left the Colony by the Niagara on October 23.