Punctured Heroes

Some Amusing Incidents In Tahiti

By A. C. Rowland

ISOLATED as is Papeete in the South Pacific Ocean, it is probably one of the most dangerous places in the world to parade false pretensions of rank, soc ial position, or achievements. A perverse fate almost invariably has someone at hand to puncture the bubble.

The first instance which comes to mind is the individual who alleged he had won the Victoria Cross. Fortified by generous imbibitions of “Rainbow” punch, he was intoning the saga of his valour to an admiring company at that famous social centre of former times—the back veranda of Lovina’s Tiare Hotel. When the heroic story was finished, and the narrator paused to refresh himself, a low, gruff voice issued from a shadowy corner nearby.

“Would you mind telling us,” spoke the voice, “at what battle you won the Victoria Cross?”

“At Omdurman, sir.”

"Um-m-m,” growled the voice, “and who was your brigade commander in that battle?”

“Uh-uh-uh, General So-and-So,” stam mered the hero, after some hesitation.

“Um-m-m-m,” repeated the voice. “I was at Omdurman. There was never any brigade commander of that name in Kitchener’s forces.”

That was the end of the conversation.

The “hero” stared into the shadow for a moment, and backed away into the outer darkness.

The voice belonged to an old retired major of Kitchener’s army who had been staying some months in the Islands and was well known, * * * THEN came the Professor of Romance Languages at Johns Hopkins Univer sity, Baltimore, U.S.A. At least, so he represented himself to be when he landed in Papeete.

He possessed dignity and an impressive personality. In addition, there dangled from his watch chain the golden key of Phi Beta Kappa (the collegiate honorary society for scholarship) inscribed as hav ing been awarded at Johns Hopkins.

What use he intended to make of his distinction was never disclosed. There was not sufficient time. The Goddess of Fortune had ordained that the million to one chance should place a genuine pro fessor from Johns Hopkins University in Papeete at that particular moment. , Professor Hathaway was a very pep

pery and somewhat apoplectic personage.

When he heard of the new arrival his language departed from the standards of classic purity.

“Never heard of him,” he boomed.

“Damned scoundrel—impudent impostor” . . . and so on at some length.

The next steamer carried away a Phi Beta Kappa key attached to a vastly deflated dignity, ♦ * ♦ most joyous occasion, however, was the arrival of Arbothnot and Sampson.

They came ashore at Papeete bringing swords, army revolvers and a rakish racing-type motor car painted a battle ship grey, ornamented with crossed an chors and bearing a plate labelled “U.S.S.

Marblehead.”

“We are United States naval officers,” they said.

Again, the million to one chance func tioned in the person of a retired U.S.A. naval officer who was a guest at the Tiare Hotel. When he heard of the ar rival of two brother officers he went to see them. The interview developed that neither Arbothnot nor Sampson knew the difference between a binnacle and a chronometer and that they thought box ing the compass meant crating that in strument for transportation.

The retired officer was a sportsman, and had a well-nourished sense of humor.

He saw in prospect the possibilities of many a hearty laugh so he agreed not to give them away provided they took from their battleship-grey motor the plate inscribed “U.S.S. Marblehead.”

His forecast of amusing happenings was not in error. Arbothnot and Samp son drew into their orbit a sporty young French officer locally known as “Gip the Blood”, and the three proceeded to add to the gaiety of the community in the most satisfactory manner.

Then came the duel.

Arbothnot challenged an elderly French gentleman because the latter’s dog had bitten him. “Gip the Blood” was his second, and there were many solemn goings and comings for days. Arbothnot wanted the affair fought out with sabres.

But the French gentleman, contending that as he was the challenged party the choice of weapons lay with him, desig nated champagne corks!

And so the matter was carried out. The duel was staged on the veranda of the Tiare Hotel. The two discharged corks from champagne bottles at 20 paces and then sat down to drink the contents — while the island rocked with Homeric laughter. * * * OOGUS knights, barts., and noble lords never get very far in the Islands.

There have been too many “Burke’s Peer ages” ready to spring out and bite them, and the latest Whittaker editions are always at hand in consular and other offices. They used to drop ashore now and then. But word has doubtless been passed about among the illustrious fraternity that Papeete is well armed — for they come no more.