Oysters And The Law

“PIM” Short Story:

PAULA was a middle-aged Fijian whose wife had died without providing him with a son. Above all things a son was what he wanted; for who else would there be to slip the necessary Tambua into his burial mats and ensure his safe conduct to Burotu?

He was a man of minor rank and his tribe owned much land. His share of the rents for those portions which were leased to the Sugar Company was not inconsiderable, and his house was a large one. Who was there to cook his food and wash his clothes? No one but old Maraia, whose grumbling and idle habits irritated him to distraction.

Yes, he would look for a young woman of the village who would, in spite of his being a little older than he used to be, not be unwilling to share his comfortable house and his rent moneys. There was Lavinia, for instance; she was a good looking young woman, with no attach ments, as far as he knew. Her parents were not well-off, and she worked hard to help them. Perhaps she would ex change her lot and marry him. Perhaps, also, she would give him what he craved above all things.

He found he had to recompense the girl’s parents for the loss to them of her services—but Lavinia was willing; in fact, anxious, to escape; and the marriage took place.

After some months of what, to Paula, was happiness and comfort, he had to leave home to give evidence in a land claim case in the Supreme Court. This entailed a trip to Suva and meant that he would be away for at least three weeks. He left his house without mis givings. By now he was thoroughly in love with his wife and trusted her com pletely. And he would return with some new dress material of a kind which was only obtainable in Suva to compensate her for her loneliness. At least, this was his train of thought.

On his return Lavinia appeared to be well and showed signs of being glad to see him. She seemed to be reserved in manner, however, and when the parcel of dress material was opened she voiced

open disapproval. Why hadn’t Paula brought her something more like the Chief’s wife wore? Didn’t he notice that what he had chosen was similar to that worn by half the girls of the vil lage? And so on.

Paula concealed his disappointment as best he could; but, somehow, there seemed to be something wrong. Perhaps Lavinia was not well. Anyhow, she would probably be her cheerful self again by the following day.

The large double bed at one end of the house was well covered with a pile of good mats and was an extremely corn-

By "Tui Navosa"

fortable one. But that night Paula could not sleep. True it was a par ticularly hot night, but that did not account for it.

The fact was that he found he could not control his annoyance at his wife’s behaviour. In his uneasiness he rolled over to one side—and what was that hard thing under the edge of the top mat? His hand went under it. and closed round a wooden pipe, Paula himself had never owned a pipe in his life; his smoking had always been cigarettes, with an occasional Fiji cigar.

Then whose pipe could this be?

Lavinia was sound asleep, and he re strained his first impulse, which was to wake her up. Until morning, he was tormented with his thoughts. What could the explanation be? Could there be an explanation? And, in the morn ing, he hid the pipe in a tin box of which he had the key.

For days after this, Paula was in a dangerous state of suppression. He found himself watching his wife; looking for anything unusual in her behaviour, But he said nothing, It was a fortnight later that they began practising for the dance which would be performed during the visit of

the Commissioner. Paula was over the normal age for this, but Lavinia was not, and would take her place with the other young women and men in the ordinary course of events.

Paula’s role, with several others, was that of critic, to watch at the rehearsals; but he found that he could watch no other performer than his wife. His eyes never left her.

But what was young Joni, the chief’s son, doing? Was he not continually close to her? Did not Lavinia seem to be dancing at him? There was no doubt of it; and then, in a flash, he knew.

Joni, who swaggered about the village with a European pipe in his mouth, was the owner of the pipe left in his bed. * * * THE village was in an uproar; women wailing; men running; and the village policeman standing guard over the door of Paula’s house. For in side the house, on the floor, lay Lavinia —dead, with her head nearly severed from her body. Already a messenger on horseback was galloping to the police station, 12 miles distant.

When the Police Officer arrived he went direct to Paula’s house, followed by two constables. Here he found a woman lying on the floor. One glance told him she was dead; and Paula was sitting in a corner, smoking a Fijian cigar. He arrested him, and then started to examine the contents of the house.

Almost the first thing he noticed was the handle of a cane knife protruding from the thatch, close by the door. Pull ing this out, he saw that the blade was covered with blood stains. To him the case was clear: Paula had obviously slashed his wife with the cane knife and here was the blood on the blade—hadn’t even taken the trouble to wipe it off.

Caucus brute.

Paula was formally charged. He said nothing, and was- taken to the pcflice station. Here, again, he to answer any questions whatsoever.

At this time, there was a lawyer named Johnstone living in the neigh bourhood. He had been in the country for many years; knew Fijians and their customs well; and had often befriended them when in trouble, either for a fee or without.

He, knowing no more than has been told in this story, was-in the Magistrate’s Court when Paula appeared for the preliminary hearing. The charge was that Paula had, on a certain day, killed his wife Lavinia by severing her spinal cord with a cane knife. Johnstone offered to defend him, and this was agreed to.

Other than asking a few questions in cross-examination, he did not appear to be greatly interested. He called no wit nesses for the defence, neither did he put Paula into the box. He said that he reserved the defence for the Supreme Court and asked that two Fijians, whom he named, from Paula’s village, should be subpoenaed.

The case was heard at the next sitting of the Supreme Court on circuit, and the evidence against Paula seemed damning, although circumstantial. But when the cane knife was produced by the Police Officer, Johnstone, in cross-examination, asked if the stains on it were those of blood. The answer was that it certainly looked like it. Yes, this he admitted.

But were they human blood? The Police Officer replied: What else could they be?

Johnstone pressed the point, and the Police Officer had lo admit that he did not know.

For the defence, Johnstone put one of the Fijians from Paula’s village in the

witness box. His first question was: Did he remember the day before Lavinia was killed? Yes, he did, very well. And what happened in the village that night?

There was a big feast, he replied. Did he take any part in it? Yes, he had helped Paula to kill and prepare two goats for it. How were the goats killed? he was asked. With a cane knife, was the reply. Was the cane knife anything like the one now in Court? That is the one we used—it is Paula’s knife, was the answer.

The second witness corroborated what the first had said; he had also helped Paula in the killing of the goats. Cross examination shook neither of them.

The prosecution had depended on the cane knife. No motive had come to light as to Paula having any cause to kill his wife; and Paula had not incriminated himself in any way.

There could be but one decision; Paula was acquitted. * * * A MONTH or t\sK) later, when the rent moneys had been paid out to the Fijians who owned large cane fields in the district, Johnstone had a visit from Paula. He sat cross-legged in his office, and produced a tied-up hand kerchief which he opened. In it was a pile of coins and notes which he pro ceeded to divide into two halves, one of which he put on Johnstone’s table. He said he hfd just received his rent money and wanted to share it with the “Turanga” who had helped him. And. in addition, he said, he would continue to share his rent moneys in the same way whenever they were paid.

This put Johnstone in a difficulty, for he knew very well that the rent moneys that Paula would be drawing were not strictly his personal property to dispose of. Paula was head of one division of his tribe, and what he drew he should share with the several families belong ing to this division.

He thanked Paula for what he had done and proposed, and then he suddenly remembered that Paula’s family owned an oyster bed in a nearby river. Not only were these “Svdney Rock,” but they were the only sizeable oysters to be found in that part of Fiji. And he was very fond of oysters.

So he suggested that further payment should be in kind. Whenever the oysters were being collected, one basket should be set aside for him.

This was agreed to, and for some years Johnstone was periodically supplied—a basket deposited at Johnstone’s house by Paula himself.

And then, one day, Johnstone noticed that he had not had the usual visit for some time. So he inquired from a Fijian he met in the town, &nd who he knew belonged to Paula’s village, whether Paula had gone away. No, was the reply, but Paula was very ill and would probably die. Paula had mentioned something about “the Turanga,” but no one knew what he meant.

That afternoon, Johnstone got into his car and drove to Paula’s village. He had never been clear as to what had hap pened on the night of the tragedy, and he thought perhaps Paula wanted to tell him. On reaching the house he found a number of relations sitting about in it, and for the moment he thought that he was too late.

Paula, however, stirred himself and firmly told them all to “get out.” When they were alone, Paula told him the whole story of his second marriage, and what he had done.

“You were quite right about the cane

knife, Turanga; that I had killed the goats with. I used my axe on the woman.

I knew that wouldn’t be found, for no one saw me throw it into the deep pool in the river which runs past the village.”