When Sam Spoilt The Scones

A Tale of Old Rotuma

By Katherine E. Cowie

IT was a roasting day; even the broad verandah of the Residency, shaded as it was by tropical creepers and shrubs of poinsettias, failed to shut out the dancing reflections of the sea on the white walls of the building.

But the deck-chair looked very inviting, so I just settled down and gave way to what might be called a partial frame of mind.

The sun shone through the scarlet poinsettia and the starry gardenias, whose fragrance acted like a fairy charm to my senses, and made me eager to go hand and hand with the Muses. Feeling that I should write down my ideas at once, I seized my notebook.

But, alas, visions of “I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude”, came upon me with double force. The berries were indeed crude, for they had not even blossomed. With a sense of disappointment, I realised the Muse had flown, and my efforts were a “poem without words.”

I was startled from my reverie by a soft voice—“Gagaga” (chief).

It was my little maid, Clara. I had promised to initiate her into the mysteries of scone-making, Enoki, the cook, had gone away for the day with the house party,

and I was in charge of the Residency, with Clara and Sam.

Now Sam was one of the Govem ment boat’s crew, and a Solomon Islander, but the Commissioner had left him in charge of the grounds, There was a wedding feast being held at Noatau, the village near-by, and the sounds of revelry had, alas, attracted Sams ears; and in idle curiosity he had left his work anc * gone. For, on reaching the cool stone kitchen, looking from window into the kitchen garden, 1 . saw at o “lax Sa ™ wa ® missing. Clara s face wore an exceedingly solemn expression at bemg deserted, Ph> wel i; 9 lara ’ we ne ed not be afraid on Rotuma, there is no one to hurt us - Bu t the Commissioner will be angry; Sam has disobeyed his orders. ’

“Eau, Gagaga, but Sam may get drunk with green kava at the wedding, and it is spoken of among the people that a great madness comes over him, softly spoke the little dark-eyed maiden, “Well, Clara, then he will sleep.”

“Ah, no, Gagaga, green kava is not like white man’s kava, they but fall asleep like fools; our green kava makes them dance and go mad.”

“Nonsense, girl,” I said sharp “I have often seen men dri green kava —chewed too —and it ( not affect them more than the c root.”

The kitchen was built apart fr the Residency, as is the tropi fashion. It had one door and t windows.

“Yes, two cups of flour, Cla this is the baking-powder.”

But an uneasy feeling crept i; my mind, for I remembered sailor off a British warship, Onapu, who, not so long befc went completely mad after drink green kava combined with toba juice, which some jealous nat had put in the otherwise harm] beverage. And when Sir H . commanding officer, came to poor mad fellow, he had actui struck the officer, and had to overpowered and tied in the b( But surely no one would p such a trick on poor Sam.

“Roll lightly, Clara, a little m flour, now shape like— “Oh, chief, look!” whispe Clara.

There at the door stood Ss his hair, always a foot long, i standing round his face, looke( yard longer to me in my hor His eyes were like burning co they were going round and roi in his head.

It is etiquette for a native crouch at the door and “Gagaga” when in the presence a white person. But Sam ] knew no etiquette. For a mir or two he stood at the door, i then he threw from his shod a basket of food from the wedc feast. Then he strode forw to the shelf where he kept garden knives —some of them f 2 ft long.

What was I to do, a mere ! with a still more frightened c! to protect? I remembered that Commissioner had told me m to run away from a native, to be calm.

Calm! With one eye on scones, which I arranged \ trembling fingers, and the ol eye on the dark form to my lefi the knife rack, I lived an Which knife would the wn select?

Clara moved to the door.

“Stay,” I commanded in angry whisper.

“What do you want, Sam? demanded.

“Matches matches pipe,’ muttered. And then, thank C he went out; but when he reac the verandah of the Residency sang an insolent meke soi which he suddenly changed int Solomon eating song, which rr him intensely excited. Indeed, could almost imagine him tea; his wretched victims to pieces, as he gesticulated, he greedily at a piece of fat pork which had brought from the wedc feast.

He gnashed his great yellow eth viciously, and came stag ring towards us. This was too uch! I went rapidly across the vered way leading to the house randah, with Clara clinging to e. The scones lay forgotten, ibaked upon their tray, “Open all the French windows, ara,” I said quickly, while I got y riflle ready. My numbed ain clung to an idea that it was fer to have plenty of doors to cape by.

A wild “Ya ya” came to us from e front, I was praying wildly r a native to go by; but no; Jy the brilliant sunshine and the ar of the surf on the reef, with i occasional yell from Sam.

Clara was crying frantically, as e interpreted the Solomon eating Dg, which came nearer and arer. I could stand it no ager. Better death than this spense. I walked to the northern d of the wide verandah and eed the mad, dancing native with f rifle covering him the while. 5 had divested himself of most l his clothing. Over his wild jod-smeared face (which he had Idently scratched for the casion), stole a look of surprise, len, with a wild guttural cry, he rted into his native hut.

We felt sure he would return th a club, and then!

“Go Clara, to the village. Get Ip. quick!”

“No, no chief, and leave you?”

“Hist!” I said, grass by the lith end was shaking. f’Tis but the baby turkeys, iy.”

'Clara,” I sobbed, “we are so jung to die.” The brown girl put p arms round me, and we wept aether. New courage was born us, refreshed by tears. For two urs longer we kept watch, then ara bravely crept down to the itive hut, only to find Sam an Brt heap, in a drunken sleep.

The Commissioner came back th his police as the tropical flight rapidly closed in. Sam tew nothing of what he had tried , do, he wore an air of injured nocence. But, as a result of his Id carousal, he was degraded to rden boy. And in his heart the Bnmissioner knew how very near [ were to an untimely end, and, edless to say, we were not again ft to the tender mercies of Sam.

Vlr. Percy Jensen, Education fleer with the Administration in pua, in December, was holiday- X with his wife in Brisbane. Mrs. tisen is mistress in charge of the tive teachers’ training scheme at pondetta. Popondetta, in the irthern District, has a population 46,000, and Mr. Jensen’s educa n district covers 15,000 square les. He vistis its 150 schools by Craft and canoe, and on foot.