A Trader's Tale

By “Tukapa Koko”

THE European storekeepers were wor ried, Native Richmonds had entered the field of Beach commerce before, but no one like progressive Tanga.

Tanga was an up-and-coming lad, a “yellow native”, with what seemed a large streak of Chinese in him, though as far as I knew he was pure Mangaian on both sides of the family tree. There are such things as throw-backs, especially where mixed breedings come into the case. Tanga may have been the result of a decision by Nature to dig up a four hundred-year-old strain that had lapsed since some canny Asiatic trader visited Mangaia per junk. If so, judging by his descendant, he must have retired to China a millionaire —unless the junk sprang a leak.

Be that as it may, Tanga was the Yellow Peril of Mangaia trade. We, nous autres, cursed him in one breath, and uttered admiring exclamations with the next, as his little native store, in an old shack on the Beach road, went from strength to strength.

He had cloth; he had hardware; he had household goods, foodstuffs, nails, paints—everything that we had —and he sold it at a price that was simply ghastly in its cheapness.

It was easy for Tanga so to do; he paid no rent, had no overhead, got all his stuff by mail; and his living standard was just native. Apart from licence and road tax, he was on the right side of the ledger all the time.

His stock was largely Japanese. For that reason, he was able to under-sell all of us, and still make good profit. He, taking in large sums, each steamer re ordered and re-ordered, with a blithe heart.

One of his shipments was just too cheap; we fell before his sale of dress material, in gay spots and bars dear to the native heart, at sixpence a yard. In no time, Tanga was sold out; and he ordered more, and more, and more, while his fellow-natives bought, and bought, and bought.

But the best-laid plans of the Tangas of Polynesia at times go agley. Tanga, like all natives of the Outer Cooks, did not care a hoot what went on in the outside world. All the white-man in terest Tanga had was money; and it was becoming rather indecent, so Fate stepped in and righted the situation.

After one unusually gorgeous feast of cheap-jacking, ’Erbert ’Enry called Tanga into his office. Tanga swaggered up to the desk, and met his Waterloo—for, though ’Erbert ’Enry’s words were as

honey mixed with olive oil, they made war in Tanga’s heart.

“Tanga,” cooed the Burra Sahib, “You had a big swag of Jap. cloth this boat, didn’t you?”

Tanga, with obvious pride in his acumen, confirmed the allegation.

“And did you know, when you ordered it,” continued ’Erbert ’Enry, “that it was sold to you by the warehouse in bond?”

Tanga, scowling slightly, professed nescience, “Well, I regret to inform you,” said His Nibs, “that the dues, surtax and other amounts due on that lot, under new arrangements, amount to forty-seven per cent, of the value of the goods.”

Next boat, Tanga’s prices were even as thine and mine!

Mr. John Hills, an Englishman who formerly was an officer on the Fiji Government’s yacht “Viti”, married Miss Loma Dick, of Suva, on May 17. They left the Colony at the end of the month for Australia, where they have now made their home