White Fire Part 40

CHAPTER XXVIII

NO THOROUGHFARE

It would be difficult to tell in words the exaltation of spirit which possessed Kenneth Blair at the brave show the new order of things was making in these Dark Islands of his choice. It was a beginning after his own heart, and he rejoiced in it greatly.

I can imagine what he must have looked like as he went about his Master's business--clad always in white from head to foot, and carrying always that high look of his, blazing with enthusiasm and the mighty joy of life, which caught the eye and held it. Kekera--White Fire--the brown men often called him, and he looked it to the life.

He felt things growing under his hand, and his heart was full. A beginning of beginnings and visible growth--what more could the soul of man desire?

Domestic concerns were prospering also. Mary Stuart had the satisfaction of her heart in a little son, and Kenni-Kenni and Alivani crawled neck and neck races on the white beach together. The schools were full, for the teaching was so sheer a delight that the wriggling brown bodies and glancing black eyes felt a day missed a day lost. If ever learning came without tears it did to these. They were actually beginning to use English words now and again in their talk and play--by way of showing off at first, indeed, but presently as a matter of course. And the larger children, their fathers and mothers, were imbibing new ideas of all kinds at a revolutionary rate. They were even beginning to put theirs into "Kown im!" and to show some knowledge of what the words meant.

And so far there had been no further disturbance from the outside; but they were always on the look-out for it, and it came, and in the expected shape.

The Dark Islands lie far out of the ordinary track of commerce. For that very reason, when once discovered, they offered unusual inducements to such as found the usual fields too small, and too hot, for their peculiar forms of immorality. The outposts of civilisation, such as it is, have not infrequently been pushed forward by individuals whom civilisation could no longer tolerate in its midst. It was such a one who came out of his way--and incidentally out of the way of some who ardently desired to lay hands on him--to bring the amenities of commerce and civilisation to the Dark Islands.

Old Maru, and his son Kahili, and the other hostages to law and order, had returned to their homes full to the brim of new ideas and great intentions, and Blair reposed great hopes in them.

He and Cathie, on one of their usual rounds of the islands in the _Torch_, came sailing round Kanele Head one day and were surprised to find a s.h.i.+p at anchor in the bay.

"Ah!" broke from them both at the sight.

"So that's come," said Cathie. "Bound to sooner or later. Nip it tight, sir, is my advice."

He gave some orders to the mate, and they went ash.o.r.e.

A burly individual in sailorly garb came down the beach from Maru's house to meet them. He was stout and evil-faced, with small blue eyes and tangled hay-coloured beard and moustache, and the roll in his walk seemed too p.r.o.nounced to come entirely from much walking of slippery decks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A burly individual in sailorly garb came down the beach.]

"Morning," he said curtly. "Traders?"

"No, sir. Missionaries in charge."

"Gee-whilikins!"

"Yes, very much so," and Blair pulled out his watch. The man needed no investigation. His character was written all over him. "It is now nine o'clock. I will give you till half-past ten to clear out of here.

If your anchor is not up by that time you will take the consequences.

Understand?"

"Say, have you bought this island, mister?" gaped the other.

"Yes, from the devil and all his works, so you clear out. It is now two minutes past nine, and you've got eighty-eight minutes left."

"Well, I'm----"

"You will be if you don't stir your stumps."

"And suppos'n I say I'll be hanged if I go."

"I should consider it not unlikely. You certainly will if you stay."

"Well, I _am_----! Was it _missionaries_ you said?"

"That's what I said."

"Very well, then," said the invader, pulling himself together, "I'll see you eternally annihilated first." That was not his exact expression, but it is printable and will suffice.

"Eighty-six minutes left," said Blair quietly.

Captain Cathie waved his hat three times to the _Torch_, and Long Tom's angry bellow rolled up into the hills and lined the side of the trader with curious faces.

"_Missionaries_! Well, I _am_----" and he looked at them, and then at the _Torch_ with the cloud of blue-white smoke drifting slowly away from her deck, and then turned and humped his shoulders and went back the way he had come, and Blair and Cathie followed him.

They were all fast asleep at Maru's house, and not likely to waken in a hurry, if the empty rum bottles scattered about were anything to go by.

There were some opened cases of trade lying about, and the sc.r.a.ps and remnants of a feast--in addition to the inert forms of old Maru and his wife, and Kahili and his wife, and some of their people.

"Eighty minutes!" said Blair grimly, as he looked round on this undoing of his work.

"Say, mister, couldn't we come to some arrangement?" began the trader.

"Certainly! The arrangement is that you up anchor and away inside--seventy-nine minutes," with a glance at his watch.

"I guess you'll pay for this 'fore you're done, mister. I'm an American citizen."

"Sorry to hear it."

"And an American citizen don't stand bein' fired out like this and no reasons given--not by a long sight!"

"There are our reasons," said Blair, pointing to the heavy sleepers, "and there are yours," and he pointed to the half-emptied case of rum.

"Seventy-eight minutes more!"

The American citizen looked him over for a moment but found no hope of amelioration in his face.

"Well, I'm----" and he turned to the door and whistled shrilly to his s.h.i.+p, and presently a boat came slouchily across to the sh.o.r.e.

"Carry them things aboard," he ordered, and saw it done, and then followed his men into the boat.

Then he stood up in the stern and delivered himself luridly on missionaries in general, and on this new kind, as represented by Blair and Cathie, in particular.

"You'll hear of me again, my sons, sure as my name's Hartford Crawley.

Yes, by thunder, you will, and don't you forget it!" was his valediction with threatening fist, and they could hear him cursing all the way to the s.h.i.+p.

Blair and Cathie returned to the _Torch_. At half-past ten Long Tom thundered a reminder to Mr. Crawley that his time was up, and before the echoes died away, the trader's anchor was apeak and his sails were dropping sulkily to the breeze.

He headed slowly out to sea, and was surprised to find the _Torch_ do the same.