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Pnnted by Ballanttne, Hanson 6» Co. 
At the Ballantyne Press 


APART from their intrinsic interest, the following 
■*■ ^ legends need not be taken as having any consider- 
able scientific value, except as an unpretentious con- 
tribution to our records of what has been well called 
" vanishing knowledge." They were not written for 
publication, but simply as matter for the reading of my 
near kinsfolk. Each one of them contains a genuine 
legend as its skeleton, so to speak. For the flesh with 
which that skeleton has been covered, the most that can 
be claimed is that it is of the native pattern. My 
principal informant, old Taliai-tupou, the Tui Naiau, or 
King of Lakemba, was a talkative old gentleman with a 
lively imagination. I once asked a Lakemba chief, named 
Takelo, who was also one of the Mission agents, about a 
legend the King had told me. " Yes," he replied, " it is 
genuine ; but there is more of it than I knew of before. 
A thing is always bigger when it comes out of his mouth 
than it was when it went in at his ears. It is a common 
saying with us, ' Let us go to Vatu-wangka, that the 
King may lie (i.e. " yarn ") to us ! ' " — Vatu-wangka was 
the name of Tui Naiau's house. 

Another fact in connection with this old chief is that he 
was a Fijian. Hence there is a strong Fijian flavour in all 
those sagas of his with which Tonga and Samoa are con- 
cerned. This may be especially noted in the " Story of 
Longapoa," but I refer to it here as well by way of emphasis. 


With regard to the methods of electing a chief [vide 
this same "Story of Longapoa"), it must be recollected 
that it is only the qualification for chieftainship that is 
actually elective in a certain line, which may have a 
number of men in it. The choice of any particular 
candidate is determined by selection among the persons 
who happen to be thus qualified. Tanoa and Veindovi 
are good specimens of old-style Fijian chiefs. Tanoa was 
Thakombau's father. He used always to paint his face 
black to hide his wrinkles, and consequently the " old 
hands " called him " Old Snuffy." They distinguished 
his son, Thakombau, by the title of " Young Snuffy." 

The Livuka legend was told me by one Inoke (Enoch) 
Wangka-qele as we were sailing from Nairai to Thithia. 
The wind was light, and I sat on the lee-side watching 
the gambols of two queer-looking fish that were playing 
around us. We were moving slowly through the water, 
and from under the bows large bubbles came floating 
past, in every one of which you could see a beautiful 
little picture — the schooner, with her white sails, floating 
on a little bit of sea, with a little bit of sky overhead, 
quite clear and distinct. They were most beautiful ; and 
I felt quite bereft when the light faded away, and our 
little miniatures grew fainter and fainter, till they were 
no longer to be seen. Then came Inoke, and squatting 
down at my feet, he told me the wild, strange legend that 
I have recorded. I give it, as nearly as I can remember, 
in his own words. 

Ma'afu, another of my informants, was a remarkable 
man. He was a Tongan chief of the highest rank, who 
migrated to East Fiji because there was not room enough 


in Tonga both for himself and the lord the " Heart-of- 
Samoa." ^ At that time most of the East Fijian tribes were 
still heathen, and continually at war with one another. 
Ma'afu, with his following of Tongans, used to take sides 
in the fights, and when one of the parties gave in, it was 
found that he claimed the lordship over both. He pro- 
tected the vanquished, and led them against the victors 
when they tried to make aggressions upon them. In this 
way he made himself practically the overlord of Eastern 
Fiji, and would probably have mastered the whole group if 
England had let it alone. Annexation stopped his career. 

Another of my informants, Soko-tu-kivei, was a remark- 
ably intelligent man. He was in his day the chief of the 
Livuka tribe who migrated in the old times from Bau. 

The legend entitled " The Beginning of Death " has 
in it a myth which is spread throughout all the Polynesian 
islands — Bulotu, the dwelling-place of the gods, and the 
fishing of Maui. According to the Maori version, Maui's 
fish-hook was the jaw-bone of his great-great-grandmother, 
Muri-ranga-whenua. He fished up New Zealand from 
the bottom of the sea. The Maori name of the North 
Island is Te-ika-a-Maui = the Fish of Maui, and the 
southern end of Hawke's Bay is " Maui's Fish-hook," the 
name of which is Piki-rawea ; elsewhere in New Zealand it 
has other names. This island-raising legend is found, with 
variations, in Raro-tonga, Mangaia, Hawaii, and Manga- 
reva ; and Maui's exploits furnish themes for legends in 
other groups. The account of the raising of Tonga in 
" The Beginning of Death " suggests volcanic action. 

* "Tui Kanokupolu •■' (Fijian, "Vu-ni-valu"), literally, the " Heart-of-Upolu " 
(Samoa), whence the clan is said to have come to Fiji. 


Hiku-leo's tail is no invention. It gives him his 
name—" Hiku " = " tail," and " leo " = " to watch." 

A man's father's brother, according to the classificatory 
system of kinship that prevails in the South Seas, is not 
his " uncle," but his " father " — great or little according 
as he is older or younger than the man's real father. 

It is rather interesting to find the " roc " in the South 
Sea Islands. This big bird appears in several of the Fijian 
myths, and elsewhere also among the other groups. 

" What the Tongans say about Napoleon " is of no 
great value, except as showing how quickly and easily a 
myth may establish itself. If Vave of Kolonga had got 
hold of his story in the heathen days from one of the old 
beach-coamers, and if the schoolmaster had not come to 
the islands, by the time when he had become a grand- 
father the myth would have grown into a true saying 
handed down from the ancestors. 

I cannot bring this short preface to a close without 
acknowledging the debt of gratitude that I owe in the 
first place to Mr. W. W. Skeat, who has taken great 
pains in editing my rough MSS. and preparing the 
Appendix and Index. His kindness has laid me under 
a great obligation to him. 

I have also to acknowledge the very great kindness of 
my friend Dr. Brown, and that of the Spectator Publish- 
ing Company, who have most generously lent me a number 
of photographs and illustrations, a selection of which are 
published in this book. 


Hon. Fellow Anth. Inst. 


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Printed for the Dt La More Press by W. dt A. K. Johnston, Ltd. 






By Inoke (Enoch) WANGKA-yELE 

By Ratu Taliaitupou, Lord of Naiau 

By the Lord of Naiau 


By the Lord of Naiau 


By the Lord of Naiau 



By the Lord of Naiau 

By the Lord of Naiau 


By the Lord of Naiau 

_ By the Lord of Oneata 





By RoKO SoKOTUKEVEi i^" Lord Whtther-is-he-Sairwg"^ 


As told by a Tongan 


As told by 'M.a'kfv, a Chief of Tonga 


INDEX . . .171 



From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 

From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. BROWN 

. Frontispiece 
To face page xix 

From the " Kings of the Reefs " (Spencer Publishing Co.) 



From the " Kings of the Reefs " 

From the " Kings of the Reefs " 

After a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 


From the " Kings of the Reefs" 


From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 


From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 

From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. BrOWN 


From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 








From ihc " Kings of the Reefs " 

From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 

To face page 27 



From a Photograph by Rev. J. C. JENNISON 


From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 

»» » 


From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 


DANCE .... 

From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 


From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. Brown 

From an Old Illustration 

From a Photograph by Rev. Dr. BROWN 

From the " Kings of the Reefs" 


From the " Kings of the Reefs " 




, 46 

89, 100 


f» » 



LORD AVEBURY (when Sir John Lubbock) was 
-' right in saying (what indeed had been said often 
enough before) that savages " unite the character of child- 
hood with the passions and strength of men." There is, 
on the outside of their character, much of the simplicity 
and even something of the amiability of childhood ; and 
these traits may be all, or nearly all, that comes under the 
notice of those who have opportunities for no more than 
superficial observation. Hence travellers, after spending a 
short time among friendly savages, have sometimes given 
us an account of them more favourable than that which a 
fuller acquaintance has elicited ; but the testimony of com- 
petent observers, who have been enabled to look below the 
surface, is unanimous to the effect that beneath this simple 
and childlike exterior there is too often a horror of cruelty 
and filth. Of this testimony concerning a savage tribe 
there can be no confirmation stronger than that which 
their language affords ; but this presents itself only to him 
who has a thorough knowledge of their tongue, for a mere 
ability to speak it with a fluency sufficient for the purposes 
of ordinary conversation is very far from qualifying a man 
to extract from its words the evidence they give as to the 
national character — evidence which is never mistaken and 
never at fault. 

A striking instance of this is afforded by the Fijian 


language, which — as far as this question is concerned — may 
be taken as a not unfavourable specimen of the dialects 
spoken by South Sea Islanders, for the Fijian takes no 
mean place among savages in the social scale. Long 
before the white man visited his shores he had made 
very considerable progress towards civilisation. His inter- 
sexual code had advanced to the " patriarchal stage " : he 
was a skilful and diligent husbandman, who carried out 
extensive and laborious agricultural operations : he built 
good houses, whose interior he ornamented with no little 
taste, carved his weapons in graceful and intricate forms, 
manufactured excellent pottery, beat out from the inner 
bark of a tree a serviceable papyrus-cloth, upon which he 
printed, from blocks either carved or ingeniously pieced 
together, elegant and elaborate patterns in fast colours ; and, 
with tools no better than a stone hatchet, a pointed shell, 
and a firestick, he constructed large canoes capable of carry- 
ing more than a hundred warriors across the open sea. He 
was a cannibal, it is true, which some of his neighbours — 
the Tongans, for instance — were not ; but cannibalism has 
been found, as in the case of the Aztecs, in conjunction 
with a civilisation of no mean type. He had a natural 
grace and dignity of bearing which would have sat well 
on any English gentleman ; his ordinary manner was 
courteous and even amiable, and he was hospitable to all 
strangers whom he did not feel it necessary to eat ! In 
short, under certain favourable circumstances, Mr. Wallace 
might have spent a considerable time with him, even in 
the old heathen days, without forming an estimate of him 
less favourable than that which he has given us of the 
head-hunting tribes in his charming work on the Malay 


Archipelago. But let us call up a few old Fijian words, 
and hear their evidence as to what might formerly be found 
beneath this pleasing exterior, before the introduction of 
the White Man's " lotu," as Christianity is called. 

From out of a numerous class of words which, innocent 
in themselves, once possessed an evil secondary meaning, 
take the word Vaka-sombu, which meant " the act of lower- 
ing," or " that by which a thing is lowered down," 

Thus the act of putting bananas into a pit, so that 
they might ferment and become mandrai^ or Fijian bread, 
was described by this word : but the Vaka-sombu-ninduru, 
literally, the " lowerers of the post," were men killed when 
the corner-posts of a heathen temple, or a great chief's 
house, were lowered into the holes dug for them. The god 
in whose honour the temple was being erected, or the chief 
whose house was building, would be dishonoured if no 
human life were taken when the posts were set up ; and it 
used to be no uncommon occurrence for a living man to be 
placed standing in each post-hole, and there buried alive by 
the side of the post, the hole being filled up and the earth 
rammed down over him. But a few years ago there were 
houses in Fiji, on whose floor the babe and its mother slept, 
and little children played, while within handreach under- 
ground grim skeletons stood embracing the corner-posts 
with their fleshless arms. It is even probable that there 
are houses of this description still standing at the present 
day. At the root of this horrible practice we may doubt- 
less recognise the once widespread superstition that the 
sacrifice of a human victim, when a foundation was being 
laid, propitiated the gods and secured the stability of the 



When the house-timber was cut and ready for hauling 
from the forest, then also men were slain who were called 
Tara-ninduru, or " draggers of the post " ; the setting 
up of the first pair of rafters was celebrated by a cannibal 
feast, whose victims were called Lalawa-ni-sa, or " rafter 
tiers," and when the building was finished other unfortunate 
wretches were killed and eaten. These were known as 
Vaka-voti-voti, a word whose etymology I am unable to 

Thotho, a reduplication of tho (grass), means the dried 
grass which was thickly strewn on house-floors and covered 
with mats. But this word had a fearful secondary meaning, 
for the ' thotho ' of a chiefs grave were the women who 
were strangled, their bodies being laid on the bottom of the 
grave for the dead chief to lie upon, and their souls being 
supposed to accompany him to Bulu, or the Spirit-land, and 
to wait upon him there. More than twenty women have 
thus been sacrificed on the death of a great chief as the 
' thotho ' of his grave. 

Lango was a word innocent enough in its primary signi- 
fication, but with a horrible subaudition. It meant the 
short logs placed in rows on the ground when a large canoe 
was either dragged into the water or hauled ashore, the canoe 
sliding over them more easily than it would over the bare 
ground. But the ' rollers ' of a new war-canoe were bodies 
of men killed for the occasion. So also Vaka-nduri was 
a word signifying " that which raises to an erect position," 
or " sets on end," and Vaka-mbale was " that which lowers " 
a thing which was set on end. But the Vaka-nduri-ni- 
vana, or " raisers of the mast," were men killed when 
the mast of a new war-canoe was first set on end, and 


the ' Vaka-mbale ' were victims slain when the mast was first 
lowered and unstepped. Another word, Vaka-tala, was 
also used with this meaning, and it would be considered 
ominous of evil if the mast were lowered before the 
' Vaka-mbale,' or ' Vaka-tala,' had been provided. It may 
be well to explain that these masts worked on a pivot at 
the foot, being lowered down and unshipped when the canoe 
was laid up, and raised again when she was made ready for 
sea. When a chief presented a new canoe to his friends, 
which was often done for political ends, the recipients 
were bound to pay him a visit as soon as possible, bring- 
ing with them a dead body laid upon the deck. This was 
called the Vaka-ndrandra, or " stainer with blood," and the 
deck was then said to be " washed." 

Among the windward islands of Fiji two sorts of turtle 
were spoken of, Vonu leka-leka, or " short turtle," and Vonu 
balavu, or "long turtle." Of these the former referred to 
the real turtle, but the latter to the dead body of a man 
which was to be eaten. Among the leeward islands a 
like distinction prevailed, vuaka (pig) being substituted for 
vonu (turtle), and Vuaka balavu (long pig) bore the meaning 
which the windward islanders attached to ' Vonu balavu,' 
and which laughed off, as it were, the revolting practice 
of cannibalism with a scarcely less revolting jest. 

Manu-manu-ni-latha, literally " bird of the sail," was 
another word of this class, for it once meant a child, sus- 
pended aloft by one foot or hand from the end of the gaff 
when the canoes returned from a successful raid upon the 
enemy. In the olden times canoes frequently came into Bau 
with these " birds of the sail " dangling in the air, and swing- 
ing to and fro as the canoe rolled or the great sail flapped. 


Taumbe-vandra, literally a " necklace of the screwpine " 
(whose leaves, growing in tufts out of the ends of its short 
branchlets, have a moplike appearance), was a dead body 
whose head had been smashed in by repeated club-strokes. 
This ' Taumbe-vandra ' worthily matched the well-known 
Tahitian Tiputa taata, or " man-cloak," which meant the 
body of a slain enemy beaten out flat, and worn cloak- 
wise in the day of battle. 

Boto-walai, literally " a trussed frog," but in actual use 
once denoting " a man baked whole," was a word of this 
class. It had been easy, especially if we had extended 
our researches into the region of filth, as well as into that 
of cruelty, to multiply examples^ of these mots a double 
efitente, which, striving as they did to hide the loathsome- 
ness of the practices they implied, show us perhaps the 
workings of conscience in the Fijian, and convict him of a 
knowledge that those practices were evil; but the most 
fearfully significant words of this class are so shocking in 
their horror, and so revolting in their filth, that it is im- 
possible to quote them. 

There can, I suppose, be little doubt that in the earlier 
stages of society much good came out of the struggle of 
nations, and that, on the whole, those nations won who 
ought to have won, they having certain progressive quali- 
ties which the vanquished peoples lacked. It would there- 
fore be unreasonable to condemn a people who, like the 
Fijians, are in the elementary stage of civilisation, merely 
because we find their vocabulary to be rich in words of 

^ The pronunciation of the Fijian words quoted in these papers is very simple. 
The consonants (except " b" and " d," which are invariably pronounced like " mb," 
" nd " and are so printed here) are otherwise sounded as in English, and the vowels 
as in Italian. The accent is usually on the penultimate. 









war. But we must remember that nowhere can there be 
any possible excuse for war, save in cases where the state of 
things is such that to leave it alone were an evil greater 
than war brings with it, and where the conquering people 
is one which ought to conquer ; for war which is not 
followed by consolidation and accretion of strength must 
always be an unmitigated evil. A nation whose fighting 
does not produce these results, though it may meet with 
temporary successes, is sure in the long-run to go down 
before another which has learned the lesson it was incapable 
of learning, provided always that the other nation be able 
to reach it. Nothing but isolation can save such a nation 
from being either destroyed or absorbed by one or other of 
the races that are quicker at learning. 

Moreover war, in order to be, one cannot say tolerable 
— it were better to say not utterly intolerable — must call 
forth and foster " the military virtues," courage, fidelity, 
military honour, self-devotion, and the like, for a people 
which learned from its battles nothing beyond man-killing, 
could never learn even that lesson thoroughly, and most 
assuredly could do little or nothing for the advancement of 
the human race. 

But neither of these conditions was ever fulfilled by 
Fijian war. From generation to generation it was one 
miserable series of cowardly slaughters followed by no 
progressive movement, and the words of the language 
proved that, not the military virtues, but mere butchery 
and merciless bloodshed were held in honour. 

Take, for instance, the word Datuvu, which was the 
nearest approach we can find to our " coward," but was 
very far from meaning what we mean by our word. Its 


etymology was a curious one. In ' Bulu ' (Spirit-land) the 
man whose club had no bloodstain upon it was condemned to 
employ himself and it in pounding a heap of filth //; scecula 
saculorum, and ' Datuvu ' meant the " Dung-beater." Hence 
we see that this word did not denote a man who had shown 
cowardice in battle — no particular odium was attached to 
that — it meant " one who had not shed human blood," for, 
if a man had but killed a woman or a child, he escaped 
the doom of the ' Datuvu.' 

The language was full of words having reference to the 
taking of human life, but not one of them was a term of 
reproach. Ravu-sembe was " a man who went forth single- 
handed to kill " ; Ngandro was a club wherewith somebody 
had been slain ; Donatha meant " to kill one in the prime 
of life " ; Bati-kandi was a man who crept into a house in 
the dead of night, and killed one of the sleeping housefolk. 
I once heard a loud wail rising in the still air of early dawn, 
the lamentation of a Fijian mother, who on that morning 
woke to find her child, a little girl, lying dead by her side, 
stabbed to the heart. The ' Bati-kandi ' had been in the 
house during the night, and had done his foul work so 
quietly that the sleepers were not even disturbed. Young 
men especially, who were anxious to distinguish them- 
selves, engaged in this service, sometimes single-handed and 
sometimes in small companies. In the latter case they were 
called Tataki. 

The usual Fijian bed was a mat laid on the floor ; but 
certain white men, who ventured into the hill country of 
Naviti-levu (or 'Great Fiji') long ago when the mountaineers 
were all cannibal heathens (as many of them were even up 
to 1876), saw that the houses were furnished at one end 


with strong bamboo platforms raised about two feet above 
the floor, and the astonished visitors came back to the coast 
with accounts of a mountain tribe who used bedsteads. 
Subsequent inquiry, however, revealed the fact that the 
bamboo platforms were for sleeping under, not for sleeping 
upon, their object being protection against the ' Bati-kandi.' 

Vaka-matea, Ravu, Mokuta, Tavita, Rumbi-laka, Sakiita, 
Samuta, Lamba — all these words — words of one and the 
same dialect — meant " to kill," but not one of them had the 
faintest tone of reprobation in it. There was no word in the 
language which answered to our "murder " ; no word which 
called up a feeling of abhorrence. Lamba indeed meant " to 
kill treacherously," but treacherous slaughter was not con- 
demned by the Fijian, and the Dau-lamba, or ' Treacherous 
Slayer,' was not held in dishonour by his countrymen. Nay, 
more, not only was there no word conveying the slightest 
disapproval of bloodshedding, there were words which prove 
that the Fijian looked upon the mere bloodstain, however 
acquired, as a mark of honourable distinction. 

Koroi, Visa, Koli, JVangka, were four titles of honour given 
to shedders of blood, and are here set down in an ascending 
series. ' Koroi ' was prefixed to the name of a man who had 
taken a life. ' Koli ' was the slayer of ten, ' Visa ' of twenty, 
' Wangka' of thirty ; and a few years ago there was living at 
Bau a powerful chief of the Lasakau tribe, whose admir- 
ing countrymen, in order to give him the honour which 
was his due, had to combine three of these titles, and to 
call him Koli-visa-wangka. A Koli was said to ' shut up 
a bure,' a Visa ' two bures,' and a Wangka ' three bures.' 
Bure meant " a temple," also " a sleeping-house for men." 
Taking the word in the first signification, the meaning 


of " shutting up a Bure " is not apparent. If we take it in 
the latter, the saying may have meant that the " slayer 
of ten " shut up a ' Bure ' because he had killed its 

When a young warrior earned his first distinction, and 
gained the title Koroi, he was permitted, during two or three 
days after he had killed his man, to besmear his face and 
bust with a mixture of lampblack and oil, differing from 
the ordinary black war-paint ; and the young fellow, thus 
decorated, strutted proudly through the town, an object of 
envy to his comrades, and of tender interest to the girls of 
his tribe. The old men shouted approval after him, the 
women would " lulilu " admiringly as he passed by, and the 
boys looked up to him as a superior being, and longed for the 
time when they might emulate his deeds. This decoration 
might be called the Fijian Victoria Cross ; but that one 
can scarcely be permitted even to mention that honourable 
badge in such a connection, for the horrible distinction of 
the Koroi was not necessarily earned by some gallant deed, 
showing a noble self-devotion and contempt of danger. 
Once, as I drew near a fortified heathen town then at war 
with its neighbour, a stout young warrior leapt upon the 
sentinel's platform within, and showed above the war-fence 
his face and breast adorned with the paint of the Koroi. 
On inquiry I found he had earned this decoration, not by 
slaying a foeman in battle, but by lying in wait among the 
mangrove bushes at the waterside, and killing a miserable 
old woman belonging to the hostile tribe, as she crept along 
the mudflat seeking for shellfish. He would have been 
equally honoured had his victim been a child. 

A native of Viwa, giving me an account of a successful 



attack upon a neighbouring town from which he had just 
returned, told me, among other things, that when 

" The rampart was won, and the spoil begun, 
And all but the after-carnage done," 

a remarkably pretty girl came running up to him, closely 
pursued by a young man belonging to a tribe which was 
allied with his in the war. Throwing herself at his feet, 
she clasped his knees, and cried breathlessly, " Let me live ! 
Save me ! I'll be your wife ! I'll catch fish for you ! I'll 
be your slave ! " He stepped between her and her pursuer, 
and besought him to be merciful. But the savage was 
obdurate. " I shall be Koroi to-day ! " he cried, swinging 
his club for the stroke. " Stand aside, lest I smite you." 
" Well, then," pleaded the other, " let me go away before 
you kill her." And, shaking off her frantic grasp, he fled 
from the spot at the top of his speed — not fast enough, 
however, to escape the death-shriek of the wretched girl. 

But though the Fijian delighted in bloodshed, his 
language, by confessing that war was an evil thing, bore 
witness against him, and convicted him of sinning against 
knowledge. For the word tha (evil) was used as a synonym 
for valu (war). Thus Sa tha na vanua (' the land is in evil 
case ') meant " There is war in the land " ; vunitha (the 
source of evil) was " the causer of war " ;. and Vakaya-thora 
na tha (to bring evil to pass) meant " to stir up war." 

Though the Fijian language was especially rich in words 
of cruelty, but few of them could find their way even into 
the dictionary, for nearly all of them were steeped in such 
horrible filth that they could not be recorded. Most of 
them expressed different modes of torture, especially those 


used in the punishment of women, and set forth practices 
so dreadful and so unutterably revolting, that if a writer had 
dared pollute his pages with their stain, he would have been 
branded as a liar, and execrated as a filthy wretch. From 
the two or three words of this class which are clean 
enough to be quoted, some idea may be formed of the 
horror of those which must of necessity be concealed. 

Thulang-gungguna was to pin a man to the ground by 
thrusting spears, or sharp-pointed stakes, through the fleshy 
parts of his body ; but it was usually employed to express j 
the hiding of a dead body under water, it being prevented 
from rising to the surface by means of forked sticks thrust] 
into the mud over the arms and legs. This was donej 
when a man had been murdered, in order that all distinctive 
marks, involving recognition, might the sooner be effaced. 
It was also done when a bokola, or " dead body for eating," 
had been stolen, and it was necessary to wait for a con- 
venient opportunity of cooking and devouring it without 

Vaka-totogana was a horrible word, which formerly 
meant to torture an enemy, by cutting off some portion of 
his body (preferably the tongue, but sometimes the nose 
or ears), roasting, and eating it before his eyes, taunting 
him the while. But of this enough. 

There was another class of words denoting practices, cruel 
indeed, and yet not without a certain justification, or, at 
least, not without a certain extenuation, on grounds both 
of social polity and religious belief, that is, of course, view- 
ing those matters from a Fijian point of view. Not a few 
of these words denoted rites of very extensive prevalence 
among savage, or half-civilised, nations, and unmistakable 


traces of them might still be found even in our own land. 
Two words of this class may here be quoted as samples of 
the rest. 

Kmiaia meant to strangle a human being ; and Buluta- 
mbula-bula^ to bury alive. Widows were killed to accompany 
their dead husbands ; and, generally speaking, they were, as 
in India, at least ostensibly willing to be sacrificed, for it was 
a disgrace to a woman to show the slightest unwillingness 
to be strangled when her lord and master died. The words 
used to indicate a woman who survived her husband were 
terms of contemptuous reproach. The Bauan called her 
Dawai, a word that will not bear any sort of explanation ; 
and on the island of Kandavu she was described as Benu 
(rubbish). These, however, were not specific terms for 
" Widow," nor was there any such term in the language, 
simply because, according to the system of kinship formerly 
prevailing in Fiji (the terms of which were in 1876 still 
used, though the intersexual code had advanced to poly- 
gamy many ages ago), there could be neither widow nor 
widower in the land, unless, indeed, either all the men, 
or all the women, of a clan had been exterminated ; those 
terms being conclusive proof that in each of these " clans " 
(a word used here for convenience' sake, though not strictly 
correct) all the women were the wives of every man, and 
all the men were the husbands of every woman. Here we 
find ourselves treading on the borders of an extensive and 
important field of research, upon which much light is 
thrown by the evidence of certain Fijian words, but from 
which we must for the present turn away. 

Not widows only, but the sick also, and the aged, were 
either strangled or buried alive, when they were no longer 


of use to their tribe ; this euthanasia being usually, though 
not invariably, a matter of common consent between the 
parties most nearly concerned — that is, between those who 
were to die, and their near kinsfolk who were to put them 
to death. Thus aged parents would walk to the grave which 
had been dug by their own children, or offer their necks 
to the cord which was held in the hands of their eldest son, 
with no more apparent reluctance or emotion on either side 
than is manifested by a pauper family in England when 
the old folks have to be removed to the workhouse. In 
fact, the grave was to the Fijian what the workhouse is to 
our pauper class at home ; and thither he sent, as a matter 
of course, the unproductive members of his family, not 
excepting his infant children, if they came in his way, 
by arriving at an inconvenient season, or if they were 
deformed, sickly, too numerous, or what he looked upon as 
the wrong sex, or otherwise displeasing to him. " The 
children are there," said an old chief of my acquaintance, 
pointing with his chin, after the Fijian fashion, to a corner 
of his house which I had observed to be always hidden 
from view by a large screen of native cloth. " What 
children ? " I asked in astonishment, for he was an old 
fellow who had outlived all his wives, and used to speak of 
Methuselah as a mere youth in comparison with himself. 
" The absent ones," he replied ; and he went on quite 
coolly to tell me that, as near as he could remember, about 
fifteen of them lay buried there, a few of whom had died 
natural deaths, but the majority of them had been disposed 
of for some one or other of the reasons aforesaid. It 
should be noted that he had kept a harem of more than 
fifty wives. 


A curious circumstance connected with the ' Buluta- 
mbula-bula ' once came under my notice. A young man, 
belonging to a tribe then recently turned from the worship 
of the old gods, was visiting a neighbouring town whose 
people were still heathen ; and not far from the gateway he 
met a party of the townsfolk carrying forth a sick woman. 
Finding on inquiry that they were going to bury her alive, 
he besought them not to do so, advancing his lately acquired 
arguments against the deed. They laid the woman down 
while they listened patiently to his harangue, and then 
courteously put forward their own view of the case. The 
thing might be wrong for him, they said, because it was 
forbidden by his religion ; but it was permitted by theirs, 
and was therefore not wrong for them. Besides, what were 
they to do in this particular instance ? The woman was 
not of their people. Some years ago she had fled from her 
own tribe with a young man of their town, who had long 
since grown tired of her, and had moreover run away into 
the mountains with another woman. Who, therefore, 
could there be to care for her now that she was unable to 
fend for herself? She had no kinsfolk among them, and 
what then could they do with her but that which they 
were about to do ? The visitor still persisted in urging his 
request. Well, then, since he was so bent on saving her 
life, would he take charge of her ? Let him but say the 
word, and, to oblige him, they would willingly incur the 
fatigue of carrying her all the way to his town. He did 
not see his way clear to this arrangement ; and thereupon 
they took their burden up again with the air of men who 
could not afford to waste their time in any further argu- 
ment with so unreasonable an opponent. Suddenly a 


bright thought struck him. The matter could be accom- 
modated after all so as to meet the views of both parties 
Christianity forbade the burial of living men, but not the 
burial of the dead. " Stay," he cried, " since you must 
bury her, let it not be done while the life is in her. Let 
us give her a poisoned drink. ; and when she is dead, 
then let the burying be done." To this they consented 
with great satisfaction, at being thus enabled to oblige 
their friend without incommoding themselves ; and they 
gathered the necessary materials with but little trouble or 
delay, for the Fijian has an extensive knowledge of plants 
which are noxious to life, and a very short search in 
almost any part of his forest is sufficient for their discovery 
So the fatal drink was prepared and administered ; an 
when it had taken effect, the funeral was soon over. 

On his return home the young man told the nativ 
mission-agent of his town what he had done, being 
evidently under the impression that he had been 
preacher of righteousness to his heathen neighbours ; and 
the horrified " teacher " forthwith reported it against him 
in the form of a charge of murder, to the resideni 
missionary. This gentleman, however, decided that, ai 
the man had evidently acted conscientiously according t( 
the light that was in him, his case was one which called 
for instruction rather than punishment. 

Max MUUer infers from the practice of ' Kunata ' and 
' Buluta-mbula-bula ' that the Fijian believes in something 
better after death, and even compares a Fijian son 
strangling his father, or burying him alive, to Abraham 
sacrificing Isaac ; but there is not the shadow of a doub 
on my mind that the Fijian thus rids himself of his age(B 

PaM XX vi 



parents for no other reason in the world than that they are 
a burden upon him. As long as the poor old mother can 
cook, gather firewood, and carry the waterpots — as long 
as the father can help in the yam plantation, or make him- 
self otherwise useful — they are in no danger of being 
strangled or buried alive ; but, as soon as they are no 
longer worth their salt, the dutiful son becomes impressed 
with the conviction that they have lived long enough, and 
makes ready the strangling cord, or goes forth to dig the 
grave. It is true that this has all the authority of long- 
established custom, which has made it almost a filial duty ; 
and that the old folks themselves will sometimes take the 
initiative, and request their children to put an end to 
them ; but in all probability the practice is a relic of a 
far lower stage of savagism, clearly and unmistakably indi- 
cated by the terms of kinship now in use, when nobody in 
particular was anybody's father — when the whole tribe was 
a Communal Family, which in the struggle for existence 
could not afford to be burdened with an unproductive 
member, and when the ties of consanguinity, loose enough 
even now, served only to hold the tribe together, but could 
not unite individuals in the close bond of family affection. 

Max Miiller's theory is rendered still further untenable 
by the fact that there is nothing in the Fijian's creed, as 
to what may come after death, which can give him any 
comfort ; on the contrary, there is much to terrify him ; 
and the utter annihilation, which he believes to be possible 
under certain circumstances, would be a priceless boon as 
compared with the immediate dangers and the dreary 
future of the departed soul. 

Envv, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness are to be 


found in every land, and have made their mark upon every 
language. Even a glance at the Fijian language will show 
us this mark burnt in broad and deep. It abounds in 
words which denote acts of malicious injury, and it is 
fearfully rich in terms of hatred and revenge. A few of 
these may be taken as specimens of the class to which 
they belong. 

Beti-mbeti and Namu-namu both mean the wanton de- 
struction of food-plantations, and are applied to acts of 
private revenge as well as to the destruction of an enemy's 
crops in time of war. Sometimes the ' Beti-mbeti ' takes the 
form of a tribal punishment — i.e. the punishment of a whole 
tribe for the wrong-doing of one of its members. 

Thus, in the year 1869, a Rewa lady of high rank ran 
away into the mountains with a common fellow belonging 
to another tribe. This she did to vex her kinsfolk because 
of some grievance she had against them ; and they in their 
turn vented their rage upon the tribe of her accomplice by 
destroying their plantations, breaking up their canoes, and 
inflicting other damage upon them. This seemed to be 
looked upon as quite in the natural course of events, and 
was submitted to without resistance. 

Vaka-tasisiri and Veina-dui both signify an injury 
prompted by an envious spirit, which cannot endure the 
sight of another's prosperity. 

In a small volume of commendably short sermons 
printed in the Fijian language by the Rev. John Hunt, 
one of the pioneer missionaries, there is an energetic 
protest against the practice of thrusting the sick out of 
the dwelling-houses, and putting them in miserable little 
outbuildings, such as the yam-garners, &c. But there is a 

Page XXX. 




horrible word which accounts for the practice, and perhaps 
even in some degree excuses it. That word is Vaka-sambiri, 
and means " expectoration on food," or into vessels in which 
food is prepared, or dishes from which it is eaten, or water- 
pots, cups, &c. This is secretly done by sick persons in the 
belief that they will thereby infect with their disease the 
people who eat the food, or use the vessels. Hence the 
sick are generally removed to an outhouse apart from the 
family dwelling as a protection against the ' Vakasa-mbiri.' 

Sauva means to place reeds, or pointed sticks, over which 
certain incantations have been performed, in such positions 
that they will be likely to wound a man whom it is de- 
sired to kill, it being supposed that the person so wounded 
will be infected by the particular disease with which the 
reed is charged by means of the incantation. Thus there is 
the Sausau ni bukete-vatu, the Sausau ni vuka-vuka, " the 
witch-reed of dropsy," " the witch-reed of leprosy," and 
so forth. 

Nothata and Vaka-ndraunikau-taka are words meaning 
" to produce disease by witchcraft." Nothata, literally " to 
place evil upon," is to infect the dress of an enemy by 
means of sorcery. An end of the malo, or waist-clout, if 
the victim be a man, or of the liku, or waist-fringe, if it be 
a woman, is thus infected ; and, unless a counterspell be 
used, certain death is said to befall the wearer. 

Vaka-ndraunikau-taka is to bewitch by tying up in a 
bundle with certain leaves (' draunikau ') hairs from the head 
of the man who is to be done to death, a shred of his cloth- 
ing, leavings of his food, or other things belonging to him. 
The bundle may then be cooked or buried, or simply hung 
up in the forest, and death by wasting disease is supposed 


to be the result. Sometimes the ' draunikau ' only are 
thrust beneath the doorstep, or into the thatch of the 
victim's house, but this is not considered to be as efficacious 
as the former method. With human hair, and certain 
other matters which cannot well be here particularised, the 
most potent spells may be wrought. In the first volume 
of " Fiji and the Fijians " — an admirable work on Fijian 
manners and customs, which has unfortunately been over- 
weighted in the literary race by tacking on to it a second 
volume containing a history of the Wesleyan Mission by 
another author — the Rev. Thomas Williams informs us that 
this piece of witchcraft is sometimes performed by burying 
under the fireplace a coconut over which certain rites of 
sorcery have been performed, qualifying it to represent the 
object of hatred, in the belief that, " as the life of the nut 
is destroyed, so the health of the person it represents will 
fail till death ensues." 

Fijians are terribly afraid of this witchcraft. Native 
agents of the mission who, in the discharge of their duty, 
have boldly faced death by open violence, have been driven 
from their posts by their dread of the sorcerer ; and my 
own observation confirms the statement of more than one 
observer that savages not unfrequently die of fear when 
they think themselves bewitched. It is useless to argue 
with them against it. " True perhaps are your words," 
said a dying chief, on whom I had thrown away much 
excellent logic in a vain attempt to convince him that his 
disease was not the effisct of spells cast upon him by one 
Pela — " True perhaps are your words : but go now, I be- 
seech you, to Totoya, and bring Pela hither to me that he 
may be clubbed before my eyes. Then I shall be at rest." 

















Unscrupulous men sometimes work on this fear, giving 
themselves out to be w^izards, and so levying a sort of 
blackmail on their countrymen, though not M^ithout danger 
to themselves ; for it is no uncommon thing for a reputed 
wizard to be knocked on the head by the kinsmen of some 
poor wretch whose death he has boasted of as his work. 
Several cases of this sort have come under my own notice. 

There is a word, Bula-kaureki, meaning the counterspell 
used in cases of witchcraft. Its etymology is significant — 
" live, and I rejoice." 

Nowhere perhaps is the similarity, one might almost 
say the coincidence, in the customs of widely separated 
savage tribes more frequent and more close than in their 
rites of sorcery. Tylor, Avebury, and others, have col- 
lected many instances of this coincidence, but there is still 
room for an exhaustive work on the subject, for which 
ample materials could be found by any one who has access 
to our best libraries. 

The Fijian language has a fearful word, Thatha-veitathini, 
which signifies " murderous hate between brother and 
brother," and this is a word in very common use ; for, 
^here the brothers are of equal rank, they must of neces- 
ity be rivals. The mere fact of their being sons of one 
ither does not place them on the same level, for rank is 
iherited from the mother as well as from the father. The 
)n of a great chief by a common woman is not necessarily 
chief, though instances are not wanting of such men who, 
>y sheer force of character, have asserted and held a posi- 
Kon equal to that of their father. These however are 
cceptional cases : but, where the brothers are sons of a 
great chief by women of equal rank, there the ' thatha-veita- 


thini ' is likely to be generated in all its intensity, for the 
young chiefs have equal chances of succeeding to their 
father's power and authority. The mothers also, who hate 
one another as only rival women can hate, carefully foster 
this enmity ; and thus from early childhood the brothers 
are taught to regard each other with the deadliest animosity. 
There can be little doubt that, if Bau were still heathen, 
Thakombau's sons, Abel,Timothy, and Joseph Thelua, would 
now be scheming to murder one another, if indeed some 
one of them had not already killed off the other two. 

" When Feysul dies, the clashing of swords will be 
heard throughout the land," says the old courtier in Pal- 
grave's admirable book on Central Arabia, when speaking 
of the enmity between the gloomy Abdallah and his nobler- 
spirited brother. Fiji has afforded a notable parallel to this 
Arabian instance of ' thatha-veitathini,' Feysul and his two 
sons being worthily represented by Tanoa, the former king 
of Bau, and his sons Thakombau and Raivalita. Raivalita 
was a fine, handsome, noble-looking savage, a universal 
favourite, and a great friend of the white residents, who 
are said to have helped him secretly in his designs. He 
laid a plot to kill Thakombau, having received encouraging 
promises of support and reward from the neighbouring 
kingdom of Rewa, then at the height of its power, and a 
formidable rival to Bau. But Thakombau was a danger- 
ous man to plot against, as many a Fijian chief has found 
to his cost. Raivalita, having matured his scheme, went 
over to Levuka for the purpose of obtaining arms and 
ammunition from the white traders in preparation for his 
coup, and returned to Bau with a well-laden canoe. As 
he was walking through the town, swaggering jauntily 



along as was his wont, his brother sprang suddenly upon 
him from behind a house where he had been lying in wait 
with two or three of his trustiest followers, clasped him 
round the body with an iron grasp, and shouted " Strike ! " 
Before the unhappy man could even make a struggle to 
free himself, the heavy war-club crashed through his skull, 
and he fell senseless and bleeding to the ground. It is said 
that, when the dying man recovered consciousness, and saw 
Thakombau looking down upon him with a smile of fiendish 
triumph, he mustered his last remains of strength, and, 
partially raising himself, clutched a handful of bloody dust, 
threw it in his brother's face with a curse, fell back, and 
spoke no more. 

In addition to this ' thatha-veitathini,' or murderous hate 
between brother and brother, there is also a word which 
denotes similar hatred between father and son. 

When Admiral Erskine and the officers of his ship met 
the Fijian chief Ngavidi at the table of the Wesleyan 
missionary then stationed at Viwa, and when they observed 
the natural grace and courtesy of his bearing, they could 
hardly bring themselves to believe that he was the blood- 
thirsty warrior and ferocious cannibal of whom they had 
heard such terrible accounts. Others also who have only 
seen the outside of the native character, and that, too, 
in a state of quiescence, have expressed doubts as to the 
authenticity of the statements which have been made 
concerning Fijian cannibalism ; but we could easily call up 
as witnesses many more words of the Fijian language, and 
we should see that they far more than bear out the most 
revolting accounts which have hitherto been published. 

To take one instance, there is a word Bokola or Bakola^ 


which means " a dead body " ; but not any dead body : 
it means " a dead body which is to be eaten." This word 
was used as a term of the bitterest scorn. To call a living 
man " Bokola " was to offer him an insult, only to be sur- 
passed by hinting that his father, or still more effectively 
one of his remote ancestors, was an " inmate of the oven " 
{/ewe ni /ovo) , (or Fijian insult increases in bitterness as it 
goes back into the past along the line of a man's pro- 
genitors. The explanation of this ascending series of insult 
is to be found, here as elsewhere, in the practice of ancestral 

In the old days it was no uncommon occurrence for a 
war-canoe to bring up alongside the stonefaced wharves of 
Bau with one or more ' botowalai ' fastened in a sitting 
posture on the top of the deckhouse ; and in 1876 there 
was still living, in Ngau, at the town of Sawaieke, an old 
chief, who told me how not many years before he had 
welcomed Thakombau (then known as Thikinovu, or the 
' Centipede '), who had just brought to a successful issue the 
counter-revolution, by which he reinstated on the throne 
of Bau his father Tanoa, whom a murderous rebellion had 
driven into exile. Father and son visited Ngau to take 
vengeance on their enemies ; and the Sawaieke chief pre- 
pared for them a right royal reception. Taking them into 
the public square (' rara ') of the town, he led them down a 
double line of more than a hundred ' botowalai ' (consisting 
of the corpses of men who had aided the rebels), arranged 
in various postures, some sitting, and others standing upright, 
spear in hand, and supported by stakes driven into the 
ground at their backs. It is said that Tanoa and Thakombau 
cracked many a grim joke as they passed down the line of 



their dead foes. After they had enjoyed this revenge the 
bodies were taken away and eaten. 

Various conflicting theories as to the origin of canni- 
balism have been advanced by scientific men, who have 
belaboured one another not without acrimony, there being 
apparently something in science, as well as in theology, 
which impels a man to hate his fellow-creatures who differ 
from him in opinion. 

Some will have it that cannibalism arose out of a belief 
in the savage mind that eating an enemy caused his good 
qualities to pass into his devourer ; and there is abundant 
evidence of the prevalence of this belief among many 
tribes. Thus, I have known a Fijian mother to rub her 
infant's lips with the flesh of a slain Nggangga or " Cham- 
pion," in the full assurance that it would make her child 

Others again insist that the original cause of man-eating 
was simple Hunger, and that when man had once discovered 
how nice was the taste of his fellow-man, he could never- 
more forego an opportunity of showing his appreciation of 
him ; whence cannibalism, which in the beginning was 
unwillingly practised as a dire necessity, grew at length 
into an established custom, just as (if we might only believe 
the tale) the accidental discovery, through a house burning 
in China, of the delicate flavour of roasted pig, resulted in a 
passion for that viand throughout the Celestial Empire. Nor 
can it be doubted that cannibalism produces a great liking, 
nay, even an intense longing, for human flesh. A young 
Fijian belonging to a tribe which had been, at least nomi- 
nally, Christian for many years, so that he knew nothing 
about cannibalism from actual experience, once asked an 


old fellow who had eaten many a man in his day, whether 
human flesh were really Kakana kamikamitha (delicious 
food). " Delicious food ! " cried the old warrior. " Only 
because your chiefs have compassion on you do you still 
live," the meaning of which saying is " a man is food 
so delicious that nothing but compassion keeps the chiefs 
from eating all their slaves " ; and several cases within my 
own knowledge might be quoted in proof that a Fijian, 
who turns up his nose in disgust at pork or fowl, if it be in 
the slightest degree tainted, will greedily devour the body of 
his enemy when it is in a state too horrible for description. 
Another theory finds the root of cannibalism in a thirst 
for revenge which cannot be satisfied with the mere killing 
of an enemy ; and there can be no doubt that, among many 
tribes, the revengeful spirit is a great sweetener of the 
cannibal feast. It is not enough to conquer the enemy — 
he must be humiliated ; and, as the Redskin considers his 
victory incomplete unless he can secure the scalp of his 
adversary, so the Fijian's cup of triumph is not full unless 
he can eat his vanquished enemy, or at least have his body 
at his disposal to eat it if he will, for the man who is eaten 
is more than conquered — he is disgraced, and with him the 
whole tribe also to which he belongs. It has been already 
noted that no greater outrage, in the way of verbal abuse, 
can be offered to a Fijian than to call him the son of a 
baked father, and that more than one instance has been 
known of a chief refusing to allow any one to share with 
him the body of an especially hated foe. There was an 
old chief of my own acquaintance who, when he thus de- 
voured the slayer of his son, kept portions of the body for 
gradual consumption, his eyes gleaming as he spoke of the 


revenge he had thus taken. But, though an enemy was 
considered to be disgraced by being eaten, a far greater 
humiliation could be inflicted upon him and his tribe by 
refusing to eat him. When the enmity was at white heat, 
and it was considered desirable to notify that the blood feud 
should never more be healed, the body of the slain warrior 
was cut up in preparation for the oven, and then thrown 
away as not worth the trouble of cooking. But the acme 
of revenge and the ne plus ultra of insult were attained by 
cooking the body, and then leaving it in the oven as a 
thing too loathsome to be eaten. There is a word for an 
oven thus tenanted — lovo-lauthi, literally " an ovenful of 
candle-nuts," the candle-nut being full of an evil-smelling 
oil and unfit for human food. 

It must, however, be noted that the idea of Revenge 
does not appear to be inseparably connected with canni- 
balism, and that to be eaten is not everywhere considered 
a disgrace ; nay, there are even tribes who eat their own 
friends tenderly with every mark of affection. Even in 
Fiji unfortunates were sometimes devoured apparently from 
a sense of religious duty. Castaways by shipwreck, for 
instance, were supposed, in some places at least, to be under 
the wrath of the gods, and to abstain from eating them 
would have been looked upon as almost an act of impiety. 
The aborigines of Australia seem not to look upon canni- 
balism as an insult to those who are eaten. Thus, I was 
informed by the Rev. E. Fuller (a most excellent and self- 
denying missionary), that certain Queensland tribes eat, not 
their enemies only, but their own kinsfolk also, even those 
who have died a natural death. " They eat them," says 
Mr. Fuller, " if they be fat." And Sergeant Gason, of the 


Mounted Police, tells us in a valuable pamphlet on the Dieri 
(Cooper's Creek tribe), that an indispensable part of their 
funeral ceremonies is the eating of certain portions of the 
corpse by the kinsfolk of the dead, who perform this 
horrible rite " that they may forget the departed, and not 
be always crying," 

It is impossible, within the limits of this introduction, 
to take anything like an extensive view of the subject, 
or to go far afield in search of facts for the purpose of 
illustration ; but, on the whole, it seems to me that the 
balance of probability is in favour of the Scarcity of Animal 
Food as the primary cause of cannibalism, though nothing 
can be absolutely proved either pro or co)}. During a battle 
royal which was fought many years ago at a meeting of a 
certain scientific body, an opponent of this theory instanced 
the Fijians as a people abundantly supplied with flesh meat, 
and yet indulging in cannibalism to an unparalleled extent. 
But though the Fijians have — or rather had, a few years 
ago before the great influx of white men — a considerable 
number of pigs, yet these are reserved almost exclusively for 
the chiefs and their favoured henchmen who share their 
feasts. As a general rule, the common people rarely taste 
flesh meat of any kind, but live almost entirely on a 
vegetable diet, varied by an occasional fish among the coast 
tribes, or snake among the hill-folk. But granting, for the 
sake of argument, what is not true in fact, that the Fijian is 
now well supplied with animal food, still the words of his 
language prove conclusively that there was a time when he 
had little or none ; and moreover, that even his supply of 
vegetable food is not always sufficient for his wants, and 
that he knows what sharp hunger means. Let us call up a 


few of his words as witnesses in the case, and extract their 
evidence from them. 

In the dialect of Bau, the chief kingdom in Fiji, we 
find no fewer than four different words each signifying 
" hunger " — Via-kat?a, Via-vuthe, Vaulolo, and Waloloi. The 
etymology of these words is significant. Via-kana is, " wish 
to eat," and via-vuthe, " wish to swell " ; while the primary 
meaning of Vaulolo and Waloloi is that of binding something 
tightly round the waist to lessen the pangs of hunger, 
their secondary meaning being hunger itself. It may here 
be observed, by way of parenthesis, that these words being 
of the Bau dialect, renders their evidence especially 
valuable, for no Bauan ever went hungry while any of 
the neighbouring tribes had food of which they could be 
robbed. Then, in the same dialect, there is Lona, a word 
hard to be translated, meaning " to express anxiety, or per- 
plexity, as to the supply of food." Thus a man is said to 
'lona' when he exclaims, "Alas ! alas ! what is there for 
us to eat to-day ? " (Isaisa ! Athava me nda kania edaidai .?) 

The word Dau-singa also, common to nearly all the 
Fijian dialects, and meaning both "famine" and "drought," 
at once proves the occasional scarcity of food and points to 
its cause, its etymology being " much sun." Long-con- 
tinued droughts often causing great suffering, even on the 
two large islands, Naviti-levu and Vanua Levu, the conti- 
nents of the Fijian archipelago, which are watered by 
not a few considerable streams, are much more severely 
felt on the smaller islands, whose little water-courses are 
sometimes utterly dried up, and especially in some of 
the windward islands where there are no running 
streams, and whose people depend for their fresh water 


solely on the natural rock cisterns supplied by the rain 
from heaven. 

The words already quoted are enough to prove that the 
Fijian knows what hunger is — hunger caused by scarcity of 
all kinds of food, vegetable as well as animal ; but there 
are also words which prove quite as conclusively that he 
has long been tormented by Flesh-hunger, by which I mean 
the hunger a man may and will feel even when amply 
supplied with vegetable food alone — that sort of hunger 
which wrung from the children of Israel the lamentable 
cry, " We remember the fish which we did eat in Egypt. 
But now our soul is dried away. There is nothing at all 
besides this manna before our eyes." Man is so constituted 
that a certain quantity of animal food, or at least of food 
containing fatty particles in some form or other, is neces- 
sary to his very existence. Travellers who have passed any 
length of time without it are unanimous in describing the 
intense craving which its absence causes. Livingstone 
notices this craving, and says he found it allayed even by 
a full drink of milk ; and Wills, the Australian explorer, 
when slowly dying of it, though he had abundance of 
vegetable food, the native ' nardoo,' within his reach, noted 
in his diary its fatal effect upon him. 

The Fijian has no " butcher's meat," but pork ; his 
stock of poultry is confined to fowls and ducks, and that 
these animals are not indigenous is made extremely pro- 
bable by the fact that the names of all three are intro- 
duced words. Moreover, two at least of these words must 
have been introduced into the language within a com- 
paratively recent period. The word for Pig in Fijian is 
Puaka, or Vuaka. In other groups we find it as Puaka^ 


Buaka, Pud a. Bud a, the apostrophe denoting a curious 
break or catch in the pronunciation, which in the South 
Sea languages invariably marks the absence of a consonant 
which has been dropped. Spanish words are of frequent 
occurrence in more than one of those languages, and in 
them we see traces of the old adventurers who roamed the 
South Seas in search of El Dorado, the Golden City, the 
Fountain of Youth, and who knows what other phantom. 
It is almost certain that Puaka comes from Puerco or 
Puerca, and that the animal which it represents was 
brought to Fiji, or to one of the neighbouring groups, by 
the Spanish voyagers ; though there would be no difficulty 
in accounting for the word even on the supposition that it 
was introduced by our own countrymen, for it is a well- 
known fact that the British Tar believes Porco to be the 
word for Pig in every language but his own. At all events, 
whencesoever it may have come, Puaka is not a Fijian word, 
for there is no P in the language. 

Pato, the word for " Duck," still retains unchanged its 
Spanish garb. There is indeed a true Fijian word for 
" duck " — Nga — but this is properly the wild duck, of 
which there are a few on the larger islands. The tame 
duck is Pato, and is of the large Muscovy breed. 

Toa, the word for " Fowl," is, on the evidence of the 
Fijians themselves, an introduced word. In the Tongan 
language, and in the Samoan, it means " courageous," in 
the Maori it signifies " a champion " ; and it was probably 
applied to fowls in admiring recognition of the gallantry of 
the cock. 

Traces of a famine, resulting in child-eating, are to be 
found in the barren and rocky islands which form the 



windward portion of the Fijian group. One of these 
traces is the word Veisaungone (child-barter), which is not 
now in use, but the remembrance of it still dwells in the 
minds of the old folks. One of them, a thoroughly trust- 
worthy man, informed me that, when he was a boy and 
used to listen to the greybeards telling their tales of the 
olden time, he often heard them speak of this famine as 
having occurred long before their day, and of children 
having been commonly eaten until the hungry time was 
overpast. " Our fathers did not eat children of their own 
tribe," he was careful to explain. " People of other towns 
used to bring their boys and girls hither to us, and take 
away ours in exchange ; and this was called ' Veisaungone.' " 
There is another word, which even if it stood alone, 
would go far to prove that the Fijians are scantily supplied 
with animal food, for it is in the highest degree improbable 
that the word could have been called forth otherwise than 
by that scarcity. This word is Kusima, or Kusi-kusima, and 
denotes that craving which constrained the Samoan chief 
to devour the children of his people, and which resulted in 
the 'Veisaungone.' The old meaning oi Kusima was probably 
" to hunger after fish," but the word is now applied in 
general to that insatiable craving after animal food which 
an exclusively vegetable diet always produces. A man 
may be filled to satiety with vegetable food and yet ' kusima.' 
" We eat yams till we are tired of eating," said a native of 
Viwa when I questioned him as to this word ; " and yet 
we ' kusima ' till we get a meal of fish, or fowl, or pork, and 
then we are satisfied." The Tongans have a word, umijiy 
which is an exact equivalent to the Fijian ' kusima,' and 
similar words are found in other Polynesian languages. 


All this, of course, does not prove that cannibalism 
arose out of flesh-hunger, but it certainly does something 
towards smoothing the way for that theory. At all events, 
the evidence of the words here brought forward is con- 
clusive proof that there was no abundance of flesh meat 
in Fiji to militate against the theory as far as the inhabitants 
of that group are concerned. The case may be thus summed 
up. It is impossible to establish a certainty as to the origin 
of cannibalism, and the question resolves itself into a com- 
parison of probabilities, the balance being in favour of the 
strongest motive. This is undoubtedly Hunger. It is 
stronger than Superstition ; it is stronger than Revenge. 
Man is a carnivorous animal, whatever the vegetarians may 
say ; and in a savage state of society, if he cannot get the 
food for which his stomach craves, he will ' kusima ' or 
' umiji * (as the Samoans did in the fifth tale of this very 
series), until he eats his brother. 



WE, the children of Livuka, who Kve at Lakemba, 
are not Lakemba men. Our fathers dwelt at 
Bau, and that was their land till a tribe came over 
from Great Fiji and fought with them many days, till 
our fathers' souls were small within them, and they 
carried an " oro " — a peace-offering — to the warriors, and 
said, " Let us live that we may be your servants." 
To this the chiefs answered, " You shall live and be our 
fishermen : " so our fathers became the fishermen of the 
children of Bau. This was in the old, old days when we 
were many, and lived all together in our own land. We 
were two tribes — the men of Bu-toni, who dwelt on the 
beach ; and the men of Livuka, whose place was on the 
high ground, whence they were called " Dwellers on the 
Hill"; and those days were good days, for the Bauans 
treated us well. They were great men and tall, chiefs and 
chief-like in their ways, and we loved them, and went with 
them to their wars, conquering everywhere, so that our land 
became great and mighty, and all the towns along the coast 
feared us, and brought us presents, and owned us as their 
rulers. A great fish was the root of the evil which sprang 



up between us and the children of Bau, whereby we were 
driven away from our land — the land of our fathers — and 
came to be scattered here and there over all Fiji; and this is 
how it befell. Some of our tribe went out on the reef to 
fish, and there they speared a fish, great and long, such as had 
never been seen before, nor did any man know its name — 
only it was very big, and its flesh was sweet and good 
Then our people said, " Why should we take this great fish 
to our lords, the children of Bau ? Let us rather eat i 
ourselves ; and let every one keep silence that the thing 
may not be known, lest our lords be angry, and so evil 
befall us." And they ate the fish, and no one said a word 
about the matter ; no, not even the women, so that the thing 
was not known. But one of our boys took a rib of the fish, 
and made therewith a bow, for it was long, and tough, and 
good to make bows withal ; his mother, Nabuna, put the 
roe in her basket for bait, and they two went out together 
on to the reef to fish. Now, some of the children of Bau 
also were out on the reef, and they saw the lad shooting at 
the fish with his bow ; so they said, " The bow ! its white- 
ness! See how it shines in the sun !" Then they called 
the boy. " You, there ! Here, show us your bow ! 
Why, this is not wood, nor is it the bone of a man ! 
What is it } " And the lad said : " It is the bone, my 
lords, of a great fish." " A great fish ! What fish .? 
Who caught it ? When was it caught .'' What was done 
with it ? " 

" We caught it, my lords," answered the boy. " We 
speared it out there, and we all ate it in our town. See, 
there, my mother, Nabuna, she goes carrying its roe in her 



Then were the Bauans angry — great was their anger — 
and they said, " Let us kill these impudent fellows, and 
burn their town." So they made ready for war, and our 
people sat in their houses trembling, and the town was 
filled with their crying, as they said : " Alas ! the great 
fish ! Why did we eat it, and not give it to our lords, our 
lords of Bau ? Now, we are all dead men ; we are but 
' bokolas ' — bodies for the oven." And the Bauans came 
on to the attack ; but, just as they began to raise the war- 
cry, a great wave came slowly in from the sea, rising higher 
and ever higher as they went on, but stopping when they 
stopped. Then, while they were wondering as to what 
the meaning of this great thing could be, the god entered 
into the priest, who fell down to the ground, shaking and 
convulsed, and the people gathered round him, waiting to 
know the mind of the god. And the god said, " Let them 
not die, the men of Livuka and the men of Bu-toni ; let 
them live. Only drive them out of the land. Let them 
now see to the fastenings of their canoes, and when that is 
done let them hoist their sails, and I will take them to the 
lands whither I wish them to go." So the Bauans said : 
" It is well — let them live ; " and our people began to 
bind their canoes, and to make all things ready for 

Now, about this time, this is what was happening at 
Lakemba. The king had had a great piece of native cloth 
made for him, and it was laid out on the grass to bleach, 
for it was not yet painted. Then, one day as he was 
going to bathe, he said to his daugliter Langi, the Sky- 
Lady, " I am going to bathe. Let it be your business to 
watch that cloth. If it should rain, make haste and run 


with it into the house." And the Lady Langi said : " It 
is good ; let it be my business." Then the king went 
away, and his daughter looked up to the heavens, to the 
north, to the south, to the east, and to the west, and there 
was not even a little cloud to be seen ; so she said, " There 
will be no rain ; I will lie down and sleep in the shade." 
And so it was, that while she slept the sky grew black 
with clouds, and when she awoke the cloth was utterly 
spoilt by the rain. When her father came back from the 
bath he was very angry, and cried out, " What is this ? 
You, O idler ! you, O sleepyhead I you, O useless one ! 
What have you been doing ? " And he flogged her till his 
arm was weary, and drove her away from the house. Then 
the Lady Langi went weeping to the beach, and gathered 
many old coconuts, tying them together till she had built up 
a great heap below high-water mark, and thereon she sat, 
waiting for the tide, for the reef was dry. Then, when the 
tide came in, she floated away out to sea on her heap of 
nuts before the trade-wind, which was blowing gently, 
and which carried her onwards towards Ra over the 
waters, as she sat weeping for her father, and her friends, 
and her home. Two days she drifted onward, and then 
she spied a great bird flying towards her from afar, and 
she was afraid, and hid herself among the nuts. Then the 
bird flew down and settled on the nuts — a bird great and 
terrible ; and the lady said, " If I stay here, I shall die in 
the midst of the waters. I will fasten myself to this bird, 
and perhaps it will carry me to land." So she tied herself 
to one of its breast feathers, and presently the bird rose 
again and flew onwards to Ra, carrying her with it, while 
the nuts were left drifting on the waves. All the night it 


flew, and just before the morning dawned it came to Kamba, 
and there lighted down. Now Kamba in those days had no 
man dweUing thereon ; it was empty, and our fathers used 
to go thither from Bau in the evenings to set their fish- 
snares, always returning in the morning to take them up. 
So, when the Lady Langi found herself upon the ground, 
she untied herself from the feather, and the great bird flew 
away, leaving her there alone in an empty land. 

When the sun had climbed up a little, an old man, a 
chief among our people, came over in his canoe from Bau 
to take up his fish-snares ; and walking along the beach he 
met the Lady Langi. When he saw her he was afraid, for 
she was tall and fair, and like a great lady, and her look 
was different from the look of the children of Ra. So he 
cried out and said, " Who are you ? You are a god ! Let 
me live ! " And she said, " It is you who are a god : I am 
but a mortal." Then the old man asked who she was and 
whence she came, and she told him all, saying, " I am the 
daughter of the Lord of Nayau, whose land is Lakemba, 
and many islands are subject to him." 

" Lakemba ! Lakemba ! " said the old chief. " Where 
is Lakemba ? " 

" Over there, far away where the sun rises ; " and then 
she went on to tell him how the rain had spoilt the cloth, 
and how she could not endure the anger of the king, and 
so drifted away on the bundle of nuts that she might die 
in the midst of the waters, and how the great bird had 
brought her there to Kamba. Then was the old man full of 
wonder, and he said, " Truly the gods have sent you to me, 
and I will take you back to the king your father, and to 
Lakemba your land ; for I am a chief among the ' Dwellers 


on the Hill ' and our lords of Bau are angry with us, and 
the mind of the god has been declared that we should sail 
away and look for a land wherein to dwell. So now I will 
take you back to your father, and he will be of a good 
mind to me for your sake, and give me a land whereon I 
may dwell with my people. Only know this, that I must 
hide you at Bau till we are ready to go, and you must lie 
close in my house ; for, if any one sees you or hears your 
voice, you will die ; for they will know by your look and 
by your tongue that you are a stranger." So he took her 
back with him to Bau, and when he was near the land he 
lowered the sail and rolled therein the Lady Langi, and so 
carried her up to his house, where he laid her in the sail 
upon the loft above the fireplace. Then he hurried his 
men on with their work, fearing lest the lady should be 
found, and every day he carried her food and drink by 
stealth ; and she lay still and silent for many days till all 
the canoes were ready for sea. Then he carried her on 
board, having built a high fence all round the deck-house 
of his canoe, so that no man could look therein. And there 
he put her, telling his people that one of the gods had pro- 
mised to sail with them — only that they must not look into 
his dwelling-place lest he should be angry and evil should 
befal them. So they were afraid, and no one dared to look 
within the fence of the little house, but when they had to 
pass it they knelt down and crawled lest they should look 
over the top of the fence and die. And every day the old 
chief carried the best pieces of their food and put them 
within the fence for the Lady Langi, so that she dwelt in 
plenty. The wind was light and the water smooth, and on 
the second day all the canoes came in safety to Koro ; and 


there the Bu-toni men said, " This land is a good land. 
Here will we stay. We will go no farther." So they 
stayed and became the fishermen of the land, and there 
they dwell to this day. Thus our fathers went on sailing, 
some staying here and some there, till those who were left 
came to Long Island (Vanua Balevu, or Levu). Then 
they said to the old chief, " Why should we sail — sail — sail 
continually ? Is not this a good and fruitful land ? Here 
let us stay, for why should we die in the midst of the 
waters .? " But the old man said, " No ! We will not stay. 
Let us sail on. There are better lands farther ahead." But 
nevertheless his mind was uneasy, and he went in the night 
to the Lady Langi, and asked her, " Where then is this land 
of yours ? See now we have been sailing many days, and 
we have not yet found it." And she said, " Let not your 
soul be small. It is near. If you sail over there to-morrow 
you will see an island before the sun goes down. Its name is 
Thithia, and it is the boundary of our land." So they sailed, 
and the wind was fair and took them to Thithia before night- 
fall. That night they slept on board their canoes, and in 
the morning they went ashore, the old chief last, taking the 
Lady Langi with him because they had now come within 
the boundaries of her father's land. Now as they were 
walking along the beach the Thithia women met them with 
nets in their hands, for they were going out on the reef to 
fish ; and among them was an old woman who had lived 
long at Lakemba, and who knew the Lady Langi well. So, 
when she saw her with the Livuka men, she wondered and 
said, " How like the Lady Langi is that strange lady ! Her 
very face I " Then went she down to the Livuka women 
and said, " Tell me, is that our Lady Langi whom you have 


brought ? She for whose death we have wept and mourned 
these many days ? " 

And they answered scornfully, " You and your Lady 
Langi ! What have we to do with your Sky-Lady ? We 
have brought none of your ladies. Our god only have we 
carried with us, and he is still on board." But now the old 
woman was near to the girl, and saw her and knew her, 
and fell down before her, kissing her feet and crying, " It is 
our lady, our dear lady ! She lives ! She lives ! She for 
whom we have mourned and wept ! She has come back 
again ! " and she ran up to the town shouting as she went, 
" Our lady is not dead ! She lives ! She has come back 
to us again — our lady, our dear Lady Langi ! " Then all 
the chiefs and the people came running down to the beach, 
and great was their joy when they saw their lady alive and 
well ; and great too was their love to the men of Livuka 
because they had brought her back safe and sound. So 
they made them large presents, building for them a house 
and filling it with wealth, there to stay till they could 
come and fetch it. 

And on the morrow our fathers hoisted their sails and 
went on to Naiau, where also the people did as the Thithia 
men had done, and gave them a house filled with wealth. 
One night only did our fathers stay at Naiau, and then, 
the wind being fair, they sailed away to Lakemba and furled 
their sails at Wangka-talatha, sending five of their number 
up to the town to report. So these five walked on towards 
the town with their turbans on, talking loudly, after the 
manner of chiefs ; and the Lakemba men who were working 
in their gardens saw them, and said to one another, " See 
the strangers ! Where do they come from ? The loud- 


ness of their voices ! Their turbans ! They must be 
chiefs from a land of chiefs ! " and they followed them up 
to the town. When the five reached the town they asked, 
" Where is the house of the king ? " and went straightway 
thither that they might tell him the news. Now the king 
was asleep under his mosquito curtains, and the women in 
the house were all silent that they might not wake him ; 
but these five men asked in a loud voice, " Where is the 
Lord of Nayau .? " And the women answered in a whisper, 
" The king sleeps." 

" Wake him then," said the five. But the women 
were afraid. However, their loud talk woke him out of 
his sleep, and he came and sat down before them, asking 
where they were from, and who they were. " You, O 
chiefs, whence do you come ? " 

And they said, " From Ra." 

" From Ra ! Ra ? Where, then, is Ra ? " 

"We are from Bau," they answered. 

" Bau ! And where is Bau ? " So they told him about 
their land. 

" Good, now, is our life," said the king. " We, the 
men of Lakemba, thought we were the only people in the 
world, but now we find that there is another kingdom 
down at Ra, whose name is Bau. Truly the world is 
larger than we thought it was." 

" The world, sir," said the Livuka men, " is still larger 
than that ; for besides this your kingdom and that of Bau, 
there is that of Great Fiji, which is so large that you could 
not sail round it with a fair wind in four days. There 
is also Long Island, which is a land great and full 
of people, and beyond it are the Yasawas, which, how- 


ever, are but small ; and there the earth ends and all 
beyond is water. We, the men of Livuka, when we dwelt 
at Bau, thought that there was no land but that which we 
could see ; but now we have seen all the earth in our sail- 
ing to this your kingdom, and know that it is very great 
indeed. Of a truth, sir, the world is large." 

Then was the king full of wonder, and said, " Woi ! 
Woi ! These are great things that we hear. Listen, my 
people, that you may be wise and know more than your 
fathers knew. And you, O chiefs, what good thing was 
it that sent you sailing to this poor land of mine ? " 

Then the orator, the salt of words, made his report, and 
told the king how they had come sailing from Bau, bring- 
ing with them his daughter, the Lady Langi, that they 
might rejoice and be glad with him. But the mind of the 
king was troubled, and he said, "Speak not thus, ye strange 
chiefs — your words are not just — for we have long ago 
eaten the death-feast, and our eyes are dry after the weep- 
ing for my daughter ; and now you say, ' We have 
brought her with us.' Why should you speak thus, and 
make sore my soul ? " 

Then said our fathers, " Let there not be even so much 
as a little doubt in your mind as to the truth of our words. 
Why should we come here bringing a lie ? Is it not easy 
to come at the truth ? If we do not bring your child, 
then let us die." 

Then did their words pierce the soul of the king, and 
he cried out, " You, O chiefs ! You are gods ! You are 
gods ! O Bulu, Spiritland, have you brought my daughter 
back to me ? But where is she ? Have you really brought 
her hither to this land ? " 


" She is here, sir," answered our fathers. " Our canoes 
are anchored at Wangka-talatha, and we come now to 
know your mind as to when we shall bring her up to 
your lordly town. To-day, or to-morrow, or on that day 
which shall seem good to the great king." 

Then was the king full of joy, and he said, " Not to-day 
nor to-morrow, O chiefs. Be of a good mind and wait 
four days that we may make ready all things for you, and 
welcome you with feasts and presents, as it is right that 
you should be welcomed, you the great chiefs whom the 
gods have sent us." And our fathers said, " Good is the 
word of the king. We will wait. And now we will go 
back to our canoes." 

So on the fifth day, when the tide was high, they poled 
their canoes along the shallows from Wangka-talatha up to 
the beach below the town, bringing with them the lady, the 
Lady Langi, and singing the song of the god " Roko-ua." 
And on the beach all the Lakemba men were gathered 
together, waiting to receive their lady, and every one who 
had a canoe leapt on board, two men to each canoe, in a 
long line from the shore ; and, joining their hands, they 
made a path for the Lady Langi that she might walk thereon 
to the land. And down to the shore they brought a bale 
of native cloth, one end of which lay in the water ; and 
they unrolled the bale as the lady went forward, so that 
it was her path up to the town, whither the chiefs led 
her with great respect. And the children of Livuka 
followed, dancing the dance of spears, and singing the 
song of the god. 

Great was the feasting, and rich the presents given to 
our fathers. Land also was given them, whereon they 


built the town of Livuka, where we have dwelt to this 
day ; and hot was the friendship between them and the 
children of Lakemba, though it was not long before they 
began to be evil-minded the one towards the other, and 
war sprang up between them. But if you wish to hear the 
tale of that war, and how our fathers attacked and took 
Kendi-kendi, the town of the king, you must ask the Chief 
Sakinsa, for he knows it all, having heard all about it from 
his fathers ; and his mind is even as a book, wherein are 
written plainly all things that the men of Livuka did in 
the old, old days. 

Well — we were many, and the land was small ; so our 
fathers said : " Let some of us go on board our great canoe 
with our wives and our children, and sail farther on ; for it 
may be that the gods will give us a dwelling-place in the 
lands to windward." So they sailed and came to Oneata, 
and danced there the dance of spears. From Oneata they 
hoisted their sails, steering for Vatoa, and there, too, they 
danced the dance of spears ; but the land did not please 
them, nor could they see any other farther on, though 
they climbed to the top of the highest hill. Then they 
said, " This is the end of the earth. There is now nothing 
but water beyond this land. Let us go on board and sail 
back again to Lakemba." But it so fell out that, while they 
were dancing, two gods, who lived in the hollow stump of 
a tree, heard the clashing of the spears and the tramp of 
feet, and the song of the god. So they said, " What is 
this ? What new thing is this ? " and put up their heads 
to look at the strangers. Now there was on board the 
canoe one of the Livuka men, who did not go on shore 
with the rest, because he was a leper, and he saw the two 










gods peeping out of the hollow stump. Then he called 
loudly to his fellows : " Ya ! Ya ! Here ! Come here ! 
Make haste ! " But they would not come ; and still he 
called till they were angry, and some of the young men 
ran down to the beach and cursed him for breaking in 
upon their dance and song. But still he said, " Come 
here ! Come here quickly ! " and told them about the 
two gods that he had seen. 

Then they said, " Make haste ! Loose the stay of the 
mast ! " and they loosed the stay, and crept up with it in 
their hands to the hollow stump, hiding themselves behind 
it, and after they had made a running noose in the end of 
the rope which they put over the top of the stump, they 
signed to the rest to go on with the dance of the spears 
and the song of the god. So the dance and the song went 
on again, and, as soon as the two gods lifted their heads 
above the stump, the young men pulled the rope and the 
gods were caught in the running noose. Then all the men 
of Livuka came running down brandishing their weapons, 
and crying, "You two, who have been looking at our 
dance, you shall both die ! " 

At this the two gods said, " Let us live, and we 
will be the gods of your houses." But our fathers 
said, " No ! We want no gods for our houses. You 
shall die ! " 

" Let us live, and we will be the gods of your 

" No ! We sail whithersoever we please. We want 
no gods for our sailing. You must die ! " 

" Let us live, that we may be the gods of your 


" No ! We hill-dwellers are chiefs. When we are 
hungry, we kill our enemies. We make war by our own 
might, and they flee — our enemies, they fly before us. 
We want no gods to fight our battles. You must 
die ! " 

" Let us live, and we will take you to a land whereon 
you may dwell," said the gods, weeping bitterly. 

" A land ! What land ? " cried our fathers. 

" Its name is Ono," answered the gods. " A land great 
and pleasant. See, the wind is now fair. Hoist your sail, 
and we will take you thither. To-night shall you fasten 
your canoes to the shore." 

Then said our fathers : " It is well. Take us to Ono, 
and you shall live. Look now, we will bind you and carry 
you on board, and if we find you have lied to us, we will 
eat you." 

So they bound the two gods, and laid them down on 
the deck of the canoe with their feet towards the land to 
which they were sailing, and this they did because the two 
gods told them so to do ; but it would have been better 
if they had not listened to their deceitful words, for then 
would Ono have been much nearer to Lakemba than it is 
at this day. 

The wind was fair, and not long had they sailed before 
they saw the land, the land of Ono, and their hearts were 
glad, for they said, " Here now, at last, have we found a 
place wherein we may dwell ; " but as they neared the shore 
it went back before them, and they sailed and sailed and 
sailed, but still the land was far away. Then the old man, 
the leper, crept forward and watched the two gods, and he 
found that as the canoe drew near the island, they kicked 


out with their feet ; and when they kicked, the land went 
backwards, and this is the reason why Ono is now so far 
from Lakemba. 

So he told the rest, and their anger was hot against the 
two gods, even to striking them with their clubs, so that they 
cried out and said, " Kill us not ; only turn us round that we 
may not push away the land with our feet." So they turned 
the gods round with their feet towards the stern of the 
canoe, and soon after reached the land, and anchored their 
canoe within the passage. Then they went ashore, leaving 
the children on board, and saying to them, " See that you 
do not loose these two deceitful ones. Watch them well, 
or they will do you a mischief ; and we too, your fathers, 
we will make you eat of the whip." So they went ashore, 
dancing the spear-dance and singing the song of the god ; 
and the people of Ono took them by the hand and 
welcomed them, and when they had heard their report 
they gave them much land whereon to dwell, and there 
they live even to this day. 

But, when the elder ones had gone ashore, the two gods 
began to beg the children to unloose them, saying, " You, 
O children of chiefs, untie our bonds and we will teach 
you a song — a new song, a beautiful song." And the 
children said, " Let us untie them." Thus they spoke all 
but one lad, whose soul was ripe, and he cried, " No, no ! 
Untie them not. Have you already forgotten the words 
of our fathers ? The whip is ready for us ! " But they 
all said, " We will loose their bonds, that we may learn 
this beautiful song ; " so they untied their hands and their 
feet, and let them go. Then the two gods said, " Do you 
sit down on the deck, and we two will climb the mast. 


and sing you our beautiful song." So the children all sat 
down, while the two gods climbed the mast and sang : — 

" Tuvana inland ! Tuvana below ! 
Nasali is plainly in sight. 
Burotu, we two are hiding it." 

These are little islands which you may see from the 
mast of a canoe in the Ono passage ; excepting Burotu, and 
that we have never been able to find. It has been sometimes 
seen with the sun shining full upon it ; but, when those 
who have seen it have steered towards it, it has grown 
fainter and fainter till it has vanished away like a cloud. 
The Matuku people say that sometimes burnt-out fishing 
torches of a strange make, with handles of shell, drift 
ashore on their land, and when they pick them up they 
say, " See the torches from Burotu ! " And we know 
that in our day the chief called Mara — he who was hanged 
at Bau for rebellion — swore by the dead that he would find 
that land, and went sailing after it for many days ; but he 
found it not, nor has any one else ever trodden it since the 
day that the two gods hid it from our eyes. 

Well, they two sang that song to the children ; and 
the children clapped their hands and said, " The song is a 
good song — the song is a good song." But all the while 
the two evil ones were pulling downwards on the mast as 
hard as they could, and so hard did they pull that they 
pressed the canoe under water, and all the children were 
drowned. So that when the Livuka men came down 
again to the beach their canoe was sunk, and they saw 
nothing but the dead bodies of the children washed hither 


and thither by the waves. That was a day of much 
weeping as they buried their little ones along the shore ; 
and still to this day, when the moon shines by night on 
the Ono passage, you may hear the voices of the drowned 
children singing, and this is ever the song which they 
sing :— 

" Tuvana inland ! Tuvana below ! 

Nasali is plainly in sight. 

Burotu, they two are hiding it." 


THIS is the account of how the Tonga men came to 
Fiji. In the old days a Samoan went out in his 
canoe to fish ; and, while he was fishing, a great storm 
arose, which drove him far out to sea, and came near to 
swamp his canoe in the waves. 

Then, when the sun went down, and the land was 
dark, he said, " Why do I kill myself with baling ? It is 
useless. Let me now sink down in the waters and die." 
So he left off baling, and the canoe filled with water ; 
but, just as it was ready to sink, a great wave lifted it and 
threw it against a rock, to which the man clung, while 
his canoe floated away till it was dashed to pieces. 

Then this Samoan, whose name was Lekambai, climbed 
and climbed up this rock ; but still he could find no 
dwelling-place, nor food, nor drink, excepting that he 
found, here and there, a little water in the hollows of 
the rock : so, after climbing many days, he was weak 
and ready to die. 

Now was the earth hidden from his sight because of 
the great height to which he had climbed ; and he could 
see nothing but the sun by day, and the moon and the 
stars by night, while the clouds lay far beneath his feet : 
and still, as bending his head backwards he looked up, he 
could see no end to the great black rock. Yet, however. 


he went climbing on, higher and ever higher, till in the 
middle of the night his strength failed him ; and, fainting, 
he fell to the ground. 

When his spirit came back to him again he looked 
up, and saw that he was in a pleasant land, full of trees 
and sweet-smelling flowers, whereon the sun was shining 
brightly ; but there were no coconut trees, nor could 
he see any man. Then he began to weep bitterly, as 
he thought of his home and his friends, and how that 
he would see them no more. 

Now this land to which he had climbed was the Sky ; 
and the Sky-king heard his weeping, and said, " You 
wretched man there ! Why are you weeping ? " 

" I am weeping, sir," answered he, " because I am a 
stranger in a strange land. My country is Samoa, and I 
know that I shall see it no more for ever." 

Then did the Sky-king pity him, and said, " Weep 
not, for you shall see your land again, and your wife, and 
your children, and your friends. See this turtle. Get on 
its back, and it will carry you safe to Samoa. Only mind 
this, when it begins to move, do you hide your face in 
your hands, and look not up again till the turtle crawls 
ashore. Know now that, if you do not follow my words, 
a great and terrible evil will befall you. And when you 
reach your land remember to give the turtle a coconut 
and a coconut - leaf mat, of the kind called ' tambakau,' 
that we may plant the nut, and learn how to make mats 
out of its leaves ; for we have none in this our country. 
Go now, the turtle is ready." 

So Lekambai thanked the Sky-king and promised faith- 
fully to remember all his words ; then, hiding his face in 

















his hands, he mounted upon the turtle's back, whereupon 
it leapt at once with him down into the sea, into which 
they fell with a great splash, sinking down deep into the 
midst of the waters, till Lekambai was nearly choked for 
want of breath ; but still he remembered the words of 
the Sky-king, and kept his hands tight over his eyes. 

Then the turtle rose again to the surface, and went 
swimming swiftly over the waves with Lekambai on its 
back, covering his eyes with his hands, lest he should 
look up and die. Many voices sounded in his ears, 
persuading him to uncover his eyes ; but he would not. 
The sharks called after him, and said, " We are coming ! 
We, the sharks, are coming to eat you ! " but still he 
covered his eyes. The wind howled past him, screaming 
into his ears, " I am strong ! I will blow you off into the 
sea." The waves roared, as he went sailing over them, 
"Yet will we swallow you up," and the dolphin, more 
cunning than any other fish, leaped high out of the water 
close to him, and said, " See ! Here comes sailing a canoe 
from your own land, from Samoa. It is your friends look- 
ing for you ; " but still Lekambai covered his eyes tightly 
with his hands, for he feared the words of the Sky-king. 

All night they went on swiftly over the waters ; and 
when morning dawned a great bird flew past, crying aloud, 
" Lekambai ! Lekambai ! Look up, for Samoa is in sight." 
But he would not ; and presently his feet struck against the 
ground, and the turtle crawled up on the beach. Then he 
looked up and found that he had landed close to his own 
town ; so he leaped to the ground, and ran in amongst his 
friends, who welcomed him back as one from the dead, 
weeping over him for joy that he had returned once more 


— he whom they had mourned, as lost, for so long a 

So it fell out that he forgot the turtle, thinking of 
nothing but his wife and his children and his friends who 
were thronging around, kissing him, and weeping over 
him, and asking many questions, so that it was long before 
he thought again of the turtle ; and then he remembered 
the mat and the coconut which he had promised to the 
Sky-king : whereupon he ran down again to the beach, 
and found that the turtle was gone, for it had grown tired 
of waiting and hungry, and had therefore swum off a little 
way along the reef (as far, perhaps, as from here to 
Nuku-nuku) to look for some seaweed to eat ; and there 
some of the townsfolk saw it, and speared it, and 
killed it. 

Now Lekambai, when he could not find the turtle, ran 
along the beach in great fear, looking for it ; and when 
he came to the place where the fishing canoes were at 
anchor, he found it lying dead upon the beach, while his 
townsmen were heating an oven wherein to cook it. 

Then was he very sorry ; great was his grief; and he 
said, " What is this you have done, my friends ? An evil 
thing, a wretched thing ! You have killed my friend — 
he who brought me hither over the sea. What shall I 
do ? How can I now send my gifts to the Sky-king ? 
lau-e, lau-g ! A miserable man am I ! " And they wept 

Then said Lekambai, " Useless now is our weeping. 
Put out the fire in the oven, and let us dig it deeper down 
to form a grave, and therein let us bury the turtle that 
you have killed. Oh, evil day ! " 




So they dug the grave, digging it deep — very deep, 
such as had never been dug before ; for they were five 
days digging it, and they had to put down the stem of a 
tall coconut palm as a ladder whereon they might climb up 
with the earth from the grave ; and at the bottom, on the 
sixth day, they laid the turtle, burying also therewith a 
mat and a coconut, which were the gifts asked for by the 

Now all this time the Sky-king was wondering that 
the turtle did not come back again, after carrying Lekambai 
to Samoa ; therefore he sent a sandpiper to see what was the 
matter; and the sandpiper came by, just as they were cover- 
ing in the grave. So he swept down amongst the crowd, 
brushing with his wings the head of a lad called Lavai-pani, 
and then returned to make his report to the Sky-king. 

Now from that time Lavai-pani remained a child. That 
generation passed away, and the next, and a third, and still 
he was the same as on the day when the turtle was buried 
in the deep grave, and when the sandpiper brushed his head 
with its wings. Little children grew old, and greyheaded, 
and died ; their children also, and their grandchildren 
passed away, but Lavai-pani was still but a boy : and so, 
when many years were gone by, the Samoans forgot where 
the turtle was buried ; for he only among them all knew 
the place of its grave, and he was silent. 

Then, in the after days, this tale came to the ears of the 
King of Tonga ; and he said to his people, " Sail now away 
to Samoa, and bring me the shell of that turtle, that I may 
make therewith fish hooks, such as our grandfathers formerly 
employed. Good enough for you are the shells of turtles 
which we find in our land ; but for me^ the great King, let 


there be hooks made from the shell of the turtle which 
came down from heaven." 

So a big canoe sailed, full of men, and the messenger 
reported the words of the King to the people of Samoa ; 
but they laughed, and said, " It is an idle tale. Your 
sailing is in vain. There is not one among us who knows 
the place where the turtle is buried ; and how, then, can 
we find its shell ? " Therefore, the Tongans went back 
again to their land, and reported this to their King. But, 
when he heard their report, his rage was great ; and he 
said, " You, O disobedient ones ! Loose not your sail from 
the mast to bring it ashore ; but hoist it again at once, 
and bring me the shell of that turtle. Why should 
you wish to die ? " So they sailed away in sorrow and 
great fear. 

When they came again to Samoa, all the people 
gathered together, and inquired of the old men as to 
where was the grave of the turtle which had come down 
from heaven, but none of them knew. This only they 
knew — that their fathers had told them how it had 
brought Lekambai over the waters to their land, but as to 
its burial-place, not one of them could tell where it was. 
Then Lavai-pani, the silent one, stood up and said, " Let 
not your souls be small, ye chiefs from Tonga. I can 
show you the grave of the turtle, for I was there when 
it was buried." But they were angry, and cried out, 
" What words are these ? Have you brought this lad 
hither to mock us ? Here are men whose heads are grey, 
they can remember nothing about the turtle ; and this 
impudent one — a boy, a child — tells us that he saw it 
buried. What words perchance are these ? " 


Then said the Samoans, " We know not whether he be 
a child or not. He is not one of this generation. When 
our old men were boys, he was a boy among them ; and 
their fathers said that he was the same in their time also. 
Let us listen to his words, for never before have we heard 
him speak." 

When the Tongans heard this, they wondered and 
were silent ; but the boy said, " Come, let us go to the 
grave of the turtle." And he took them to the place, 
saying, " Here was the turtle buried. Dig here, and you 
will find its shell." 

So they dug till the sun went down, but found nothing; 
and cried out in anger, " This is a deceiver. He is 
mocking us. Where, then, is the turtle-shell, that we 
may take it to our King and live ? " 

But Lavai-pani laughed, and turned to his people, 
saying, " See, now, the foolishness of these Tongans ! 
Twice have they sailed hither across the waters from their 
land to get this shell, and now they have not patience to 
dig for it. Five days were our fathers in digging this 
grave, and do you expect to find the shell to-day ? Dig 
four days more, and you will find it." 

So they continued digging, and on the evening of the 
fifth day they found the shell and the bones of the turtle ; 
and great then was their joy, for they said, " Now we live !" 

Then they went sailing back to Tonga, carrying with 
them the shell. Twelve pieces thereof they gave to the 
King, but the thirteenth they kept for themselves, hiding 
it. So the King was angry, and said, " Here are only 
twelve pieces. Where, then, is the thirteenth ? See, here 
is one piece missing, for the shell is not whole." And they 


said, " It is true, sir, that there were thirteen pieces ; but 
the men of Samoa said to us, ' Take you these twelve to 
the great chief, your King, and let the thirteenth stay with 
us.' But we answered, ' Not so ; we will have all the 
shell.' Then were they angry, and said to us, 'Take 
your twelve pieces, and go. Why should we kill you ? ' 
So we feared, for they were many ; and the thirteenth 
piece is still with them." 

But the King glowed with anger, and cried aloud, 
" Go back this very day, and bring me the piece you have 
left behind." 

So they sailed again in great fear ; and when they were 
outside the reef, they said, " What shall we do .? We 
cannot go back to Samoa ; and if we return to our own 
land, the King will kill us ; let us, therefore, follow the 
wind, and perhaps it will take us to some land where 
we may live. Oh evil day ! Why did we hide the 
thirteenth piece and not give it up to our lord the 
King ? " 

So they kept away before the wind which was then 
blowing, and when it shifted, they did not sheet home 
their sail, but steered always before the wind ; and so it fell 
out that, after many days, they came to Kandavu near Fiji. 

Now, Kandavu was then subject to Rewa, and the 
King of Rewa took them away, giving them land near his 
town, where their children dwell at this day. A turtle 
shell also was the god they worshipped till the " lotu " 
of the white men spread over all these lands. 

And this is how the men of Tonga came down to Fiji. 

Page 27. 

(With the stone against which the human victims were dashed). 


"'T^HEY tell me," said old Tui Nayau, " that you have 
•*• been to the hill of Kau-vandra, where stands the 
temple of Dengei, the Great Serpent, In the old times 
our -fathers feared that spot, and reverenced it greatly, for 
there dwelt the Great Serpent whom they worshipped. 

" In those days Bau was not the greatest kingdom in 
Fiji, as it is now. There were then no boat-builders 
among us, and our fathers made no canoes, for they knew 
not how to fashion them. They were living in a wretched 
way, each tribe dwelling apart in its own land ; for there 
were no canoes wherewith to sail from one island to another. 
So the Great Serpent took pity upon them, and chose a 

I tribe whom he called ' The Boat-builders,' and them he 
taught the art of canoe-building, giving them also the 
entire rule over Great Fiji, so that in those days they 
were a great and powerful people, and Bau was of little 
"And indeed it was easy for them to become great, 
for they alone of all the dwellers in Fiji knew how to 
build canoes ; so that men came from afar, begging to be 
taken as their servants, that they too might learn how to 



make the wonderful vessels which would carry men over 
the waters in safety. Thus, in the course of time, they 
grew proud and haughty, and were often disobedient to 
the Great Serpent ; but he bore with them, for he loved 
them well. 

" Now the Great Serpent dwelt on the hill of Kau-vandra, 
in Great Fiji ; but all the country round about he gave to 
the tribe that he had chosen ; and they built their town on 
the top of a high hill, where they dwelt in safety, for no 
enemy could get at them ; and often did the god come 
among them, and talk with them, teaching them many 
things, so that they were wiser than all other men. These 
days were good days, for they dwelt in great peace and 

" When it was evening, the Great Serpent used to go 
to a cave in the hill of Kau-vandra, and there laid him 
down to sleep. When he closed his eyes then it was dark, 
and men said, ' Night is come over the land ; ' when he 
turned himself over in his sleep, the earth shook, and men 
said, ' It is an earthquake ; ' and at dawn of day, when he 
opened his eyes, then darkness fled away, and men said, 
' It is morning.' 

" Now there was a beautiful black dove, whose duty it 
was to awake him when it was morning. It slept always 
on a ' Baka ' (or banyan) tree, which grew hard by the 
mouth of the Great Serpent's cave, whence its voice, ' Kru, 
kru, kru, kru,' always roused him when it was time for the 
night to depart, and for the day to come over the land. 
Then he would get up, and call across the valley to the 
Boat- builders, saying, ' Rise up, my children, and work ; 
for the morning has come.' 



















"Therefore Rokola, chief of the Boat-builders, and 
Kausam-baria, his brother, hated the dove ; for they had 
grown proud and idle, and they said, ' Why should we 
thus work, work, work for ever ? Work is for slaves, but 
we are chiefs, great and mighty. Let our slaves work, for 
they are many ; as for us, we will rest. Come, let us kill 
the dove ; and if the Great Serpent be angry, let him be 
angry. We will fight with him ; for we are many and 
strong, and he is but one, though he be a god.' 

" So they took their bows and arrows, and crept 
beneath the banyan tree, where the dove was sleeping. 
Then said Rokola to his brother, ' I will shoot first. If 
I miss, then do you shoot ; ' and his brother replied, ' It 
is well. Shoot. I am ready.' So Rokola shot, and his 
arrow pierced the breast of the dove, so that it fell dead 
to the ground, and the two brothers fled away to their 

" When the Great Serpent awoke from his sleep, he 
wondered that he did not hear the voice of his dove ; so he 
came forth from his cave, and looked up into the banyan 
tree, saying, ' Ah, lazy one, must it be my business to 
wake you nowadays ? But where are you ? ' for he saw 
that she was not in the tree, on the branch where she 
always sat. 

" Then, looking on the ground, he spied the dove, 
with the arrow sticking in her breast. Great was his 
grief for the dove, and great also was his rage ; for he 
knew the arrow of Rokola, and, shouting across the valley 
with a terrible voice, he cried, ' Woe to you, Rokola, and 
unto you all, O Boat-builders, ungrateful ones, because you 
have killed my dove ! Now is your kingdom taken away. 


and given to the children of Bau. And I will scatter you 
among all the peoples of Fiji, making you their servants.' 

" But the Boat-builders shouted back across the valley : 
' We fear you not, Great Serpent. We are many, and you 
are but one, though you be a god. Come, let us fight 
together. As we have served your dove, so also will we 
serve you ; for we fear you not. Great Serpent, though you 
be a god.' And they built a war-fence, strong, and wide, 
and high ; whilst the Great Serpent sat on the hill of 
Kau-vandra, mocking them, and crying aloud, ' Build your 
fences strong. Carry them up to the sky ; for a god is 
your enemy.' They also defied him, for they trusted in 
their war-fence, and in their numbers. 

" When they had finished, Rokola shouted across the 
valley, ' It is done. Come, let us fight, that our children 
may say in the days hereafter, " Our fathers ate the Great 
Serpent, the god who lived on the hill of Kau-vandra." ' 

" Then the god arose in his wrath, and threw his club 
up into the sky ; and the clouds were broken in pieces, 
and fell down to the earth in a deluge of rain. Many days 
did the rain continue — it was not like the rain which now 
falls upon the earth, but a great and terrible pouring out 
of waters — and the sea rose, flowing in over the land, a 
dreadful sight. Higher and ever higher rose the wave, till 
it swept away the war-fence of the Boat-builders, and their 
town with all its people. Rokola and many more were 
drowned ; but many also (some two thousand, perhaps) 
floated away on trees and rafts and canoes, drifting along 
hither and thither over the waters, till they landed, some 
here and some there, on the mountain tops which were 
still above the waves, and begged their lives of the dwellers 


in the lands, who had fled thither before the rising waters. 
So that, when the sea went back again to its own place, 
they were taken down into the valleys in every kingdom, 
and became the servants of the chiefs, building their 
canoes, as at this day. 

" As for the banyan tree, on which the dove used to 
sit, it was carried away by the great flood to Vatu-lele. 
Now Vatu-lele, in those days, was nothing but a reef, like 
Navatu, with no land upon it ; but so much earth was 
still clinging to the roots of the banyan tree, that it 
became a land, and men came and dwelt thereon. 

" And this is how we, the men of Fiji, learned to build 
our canoes." 


IN the old days there was a great chief in Tonga, whose 
name has not come down to us ; and he had a 
daughter whose name also has not been told us by our 
fathers, so that we always speak of her as the Mother of 
the Sun-child (Jiji-matailaa). 
k Now this girl was beautiful exceedingly, and her father 
hid her from the eyes of men, so that none should look 
upon her ; for he had never seen one whom he thought 
worthy to be her husband. 

Down on the sea-beach he built a fence, thick and 
strong and high, and this was where the Mother of the 
Sun-child used to go down and bathe. Every day she 
bathed herself in the salt water, till she grew wondrous 
fair ; and amongst all the daughters of men there was not 
one so beautiful as the Mother of the Sun-child. After 
bathing it was her custom to lie down for a time upon the 
clean white sand within the fence, that she might rest for 
a while, and that her body might be dry. So it came to 
pass that the Sun looked upon her, and saw her, and loved 
her ; and in the course of time a child was born to her, 
whose name she called the Sun-child. 

And the child grew up into a fine lad, comely and strong ; 
proud, too, was he, and given to strike other children, like 

'' D 


the son of a great chief. So one day, when all the town 
lads were playing together in the public square, some of 
them did something that was displeasing to the Sun-child, 
whereupon he beat them with a stick till his arm was 
weary and their bodies were sore. 

Then the lads rose up against him, saying, "Who 
perchance, then, are you, child of the Sun ? Why should 
you take upon yourself to beat us ? We know who are 
our fathers ; but you — you have no father : you are but a 
' child of the path,' a bastard ! " 

Then was the boy eaten up by a devouring rage. 
Gladly would he have leaped upon them and killed them, 
but he could not stir, so great was his rage ; his voice, too, 
was choked, and his eyes filled with angry tears. 

Thus he stood, glaring upon them, till, with a sudden 
cry, he turned and fled away to his home. And seeing 
there his mother within the house, he rushed up to her, 
seizing her by the arm, and cried aloud, " What is this, 
mother, that the boys of the town have been saying to me ? 
^ Who, then, is my father ? " and, with a loud and bitter cry, 

he burst into a passion of tears. 

" Hush, my son," said his mother. " The boys of the 
town are liars. Let not your soul be small because of their 
words, for you are the child of a greater chief than they." 

" Who, then, is my father .? " asked the lad once more, 
looking up with streaming eyes ; and his mother laughed 
a scornful laugh as she answered. 

" Who, then, are the boys of the town, that they should 
despise my son ? They are the children of men, but you 
are the child of the Sun ; he is your father." And she told 
him all 


Then was the heart of the Sun-child glad within him, 
and, dashing away his tears, he cried : " I scorn them, 
these children of men ! No more will I talk with them, 
or live with them. Good-bye, mother, for I am going to 
my father." And, with a proud step, he went on his way, 
not even turning his head when his mother called after 
him ; so she watched him going, till the forest hid him 
from her sight, and after that she saw him no more for 

For the lad went along through the dark wood till 
he came to where his canoe was lying on the beach, and 
there, sitting down, he made for himself a sail of magi-magi 
or sinnet, plaited out of coconut fibre, and, when the tide 
came in, he launched his canoe and sailed away to visit 
his father the Sun. 

It was morning when he hoisted his sail and steered 
towards the east, where the sun was rising ; but, as he 
sailed along, it rose higher and higher above his head ; 
and he shouted aloud, but his father heard him not. Then 
he tacked, and stood over to the west, whither the sun was 
hastening ; but, though the wind was fair, he was too late, 
and his father dived down beneath the waters before he 
could come near enough to speak with him ; so that he 
was left alone in the midst of the sea. 

Then he thought within himself: "It is in the east 
that my father climbs up out of the water. I will now go 
back and wait for him there." So he tacked again, sailing 
all night towards the east, and when morning dawned 
he saw the Sun close to him, and shouted aloud, just as 
it was rising above the waves, " Father, father ; here 
am I!" 


" Who are you ? " asked the Sun, still climbing up into 
the sky. 

" I am the Sun-child," cried the lad. " You know me. 
I am your son, and my mother is left behind in Tonga. 
Stay but a little, my father, and talk with me." 

" I cannot stay," said the Sun, still rising higher and 
higher, " for the children of earth have already seen my 
face, and how then can I stay to talk with you ? If you 
had only been here a little earlier ! Farewell, my son, for 
I must go." 

" Stay, my father," cried the Sun-child. " It is easy, 
even though the children of earth have seen you. Hide 
but your face behind a cloud, and then you can come 
down to me here." 

Then the Sun laughed, and said, " Truly you are wise, 
my child ; great is your wisdom, though you are but a 
boy." So he called up a cloud, behind which he slipped 
down again to the sea, and there greeted his son, asking 
him about his mother, and telling him many useful things, 
which it would be well for us to know, but the knowledge 
whereof we have lost through this lad's disobedience. 

At last he told him that he could stay no longer. 
" And now, my son," said he, " listen to my words. Stay 
about here till the night comes over the waters, and then 
you will see your aunt, the Moon, my sister. When 
she begins to rise out of the sea, call out to her and tell 
her to give you one of the two things which she has in 
keeping. One of them is called ' Melaia,' and the name 
of the other is ' Monuia.' Ask her for ' Melaia,' and 
she will give it to you. Remember now my words, 
and follow them, that it may be well with you ; for 


know that evil will assuredly befall you if you are dis- 

So the Sun leaped up above the black cloud, and the 
world was glad, but the children of men said one to 
another — 

" Surely the Sun is climbing up into the sky more 
slowly to-day than on other days ; " and the Sun-child 
furled his sail, and, lying down in the folds thereof, slept 
till evening. 

Then he woke up again and hoisted his sail, in readi- 
ness to hasten to the spot where he should first see the 
brightness of his aunt's face, so that he was close upon 
the Moon before she could rise above the waters ; and 
she cried, " Luff ! Luff ! child of the earth. Luff ! or 
you will pierce my face with the sharp stem of your 

But the Sun-child kept his canoe away a little with 
the steering-oar, so that he almost touched the Moon's 
face in passing ; and then luffing suddenly into the wind, 
he shot up alongside of her, and caught her with a firm 
hold, saying, "I am no child of the earth. The child of 
your brother, the Sun, am L My name is the Sun-child, 
and you are my aunt." 

" Are you indeed the Sun-child ? " asked the Moon in 
great surprise. " Truly this is a wonderful thing. But 
loosen your hold, my nephew, for you are pinching me." 

" Ah, but," said the lad, " if I let you go you will leave 
me ; and then how am I to get that from you for which 
my father told me to ask ?" 

" Indeed I will not leave you, my nephew," said the 
Moon with great earnestness. " Truly my heart is glad 


that you are come. Only let go your hold, for indeed it 
hurts." So the Sun-child loosed his hold. 

" But what was it," continued the Moon, " that your 
father told you to ask of me ? " 

Now the Sun-child had made up his mind not to act 
according to his father's words ; for indeed it was his 
custom to be disobedient — a high-spirited, headstrong boy 
was he — so he said — 

" My father told me to ask for ' Monuia.' " 

" For ' Monuia ' ! " cried his aunt. " ' Monuia ' ! Do 
you not perhaps forget, my nephew, your father's words ? 
Was it not ' Melaia ' that he told you to ask for ? " 

" Indeed it was not," said the lad stoutly. " He told 
me that ' Melaia' was to stay with you, and that I should 
have ' Monuia.' " 

" Truly that is strange," said the Moon musingly. 
" Surely the Sun cannot hate the boy, and wish to kill him. 
Nevertheless I must obey his commands. You shall have 
' Monuia,' my nephew. See, it is but a little thing. It is 
here wrapped up in this piece of cloth. Now I wrap it in 
another wrapper, and fasten it with this string, winding it 
many times around, so that it cannot come loose of itself. 
Take it, my nephew, and remember these my words: 
Loose not the string, neither unfold the wrapper while 
you are at sea ; but hoist your sail at once, and steer for 
Tonga. When you have landed then look at ' Monuia,* 
but not before, or a great and terrible evil will befall 

So she bade him farewell, and climbed up into the sky, 
whereupon all who were sailing in the midst of the waters 
shouted for joy, and said, " There is our friend, the Moon, 


It is only we who go sailing by that know how good 
she is." 

The girls also, and the boys in the towns, came running 
out of the houses, crying aloud, " Here is the Moon ; come, 
let us dance together in the public square." And the Sun- 
child hoisted his sail and steered away for Tonga. 

All that night, and the next day, and the following night 
also went he sailing over the waters, till on the morning of 
the second day he saw the land. Then he could wait no 
longer, for the Sun-child was of a self-willed, impatient 
spirit ; and so he lifted the parcel which his aunt had 
given him from the bottom of the canoe, and untied the 
string wherewith it was bound. Then he unrolled the 
cloth, fold after fold, till he held " Monuia " in his hand. 
It was a pearl shell, beautiful exceedingly ; not white like 
the shells in our land, but of a shining red, such as had 
never been seen before, and the like whereof no man has 
since beheld ; and his heart was glad as he thought how 
the boys of his town would envy him when they saw it 
hanging round his neck. But while he was thus gazing 
upon it he heard a great rushing and splashing over the 
waters, and, looking up, he saw a multitude of fishes swim- 
ming hastily towards him — great whales, and sharks, and 
porpoises, and dolphins, and turtle, and every other kind 
of fish — a vast multitude. And they leaped upon him in 
their eagerness to get at " Monuia," so that in one moment 
his canoe sank beneath the waves, and the sharks tore him 
to pieces, so there was an end of the Sun-child. 


PilgC 41 



IN the old days there were no pigs in Samoa, nor fowls, 
nor ducks. Neither were there any in Tonga, nor did 
we, the men of Fiji, eat them, for we had them not. In 
those days we ate that which sprung up out of the earth, 
and fish which we caught on the reefs, so that we 
hungered after flesh, and killed men that we might eat 
and be full. 

Now upon a time it fell out that no fish could be had 
in Samoa. What was the reason thereof our fathers did 
not fully know ; but some said that a great monster came 
swimming into the Samoan waters, eating all the fish on 
the reefs, so that those fish that were left alive were afraid 
and swam away to other lands. Thus it came to pass that 
the men of Samoa were brought into great straits because 
of their hunger, for they had nothing to eat but the fruits 
of the ground, and their stomachs were always asking, 
" Alas ! what shall be our food to-day ? " 

Now there was a chief, great and mighty, who dwelt 
in that land ; and when the famine was heavy upon them 
he sent his messengers and took the children one by one, 
cooking them for his food, so that the souls of his people 
were sore ; and they said one to another, " What shall we 


do ? for we are perishing from off the earth ; we are eaten 
up by this our lord." And there was weeping in every 

In the town of this chief there dwelt a man whose 
name was Kailufahe-tuugau, or the " Man of Luck," and 
Faei-puaka, his wife, and their children — one, two, three, 
four, five, six, seven, eight : eight of them — so that it was 
a saying among the townsfolk, " A full house is the house 
of the Man of Luck." 

But at length it fell to his turn to furnish a child for 
the chief's food, and the messengers came bringing a 
whale's tooth, which they laid down before him, saying, 
"This is the carrying away of your child that our lord 
may eat." Heavy then were the hearts of the " Man of 
Luck " and his wife, and bitter was their weeping ; but 
they said, " Good is the word of the chief," and made their 
child ready for death. It was their seventh child that they 
chose, because the mother loved the youngest more than 
all the rest, and could not bear to send him away. So they 
oiled the body of their seventh child, and combed his hair, 
plaiting the long locks that hung down behind his ear, 
and when they had tied a strip of white unpainted cloth to 
his arm they kissed him many times, ever more weepingly, 
and gave him up to the chief's messengers. 

Then they sat down, bowing their heads, for their souls 
were very sore. No word did they speak, but they sat in 
silence and in great sorrow, as they thought of their son 
whom they had lost for evermore. While they were thus 
sitting the woman felt something small and hard beneath 
her hand, and looking upon it she saw that it was a 
whistle — the whistle of her dead son. Then she held 


Page 42. 



it up, saying, " Here is his whistle," and with a bitter cry 
they both fell on their faces and wept aloud. 

Now there was an imp who dwelt with them, living in 
the loft above the fireplace. His name was Ilo-anga, the 
" Cunning One," and every evening they put food for him 
upon the shelf; for it was his custom to sleep through the 
day, and by night he guarded the house while they slept, 
keeping them safe from the evil ones, and from enemies 
that creep into the house by night. They never saw him, 
though they were often climbing up after the things that 
were kept on the loft, but sometimes, when they woke in 
the night, if they lay still, listening, they could hear him 
munching his food and chuckling over it ; moreover, when 
he had finished he would clap his hands softly, and sing in 
a low tone : — 

" Good is the yam, and good the taro ; 
Good is the fish from the salt sea-water ; 
Good is the love of the Man that's Lucky ; 
Good is the cooking of Faei-puaka ! " 

So on this day the imp was sleeping on the loft when 
he was roused by their bitter weeping, and said, " What 
is this ? What is the matter ? Why are you thus 
weeping ? " 

And when they heard his voice they were afraid, for 
never before had they heard him speak aloud, so they kept 
silence and answered not a word. 

Then the imp tapped the floor of the loft, and said, 
" Do you hear there, O Lucky One, O wife of the Lucky 
One ? Do you hear ? What is the matter that you are 



thus weeping ? Tell me, for am I not the Cunning One, 
Ilo-anga ? " 

Then they feared no longer, for they knew that he was 
their friend ; and the woman answered — 

" We are weeping, sir, because of our boy — our 
seventh child — he who used so often to climb up to the 
loft with your food." 

" What about him ? " asked the imp in an anxious 
voice. " Is he ill ? or has he perhaps fallen from a tree ? 
or what other evil has befallen him .? " 

" Alas ! sir," answered the man, " it is worse than 
that : the chief has eaten him ; and now we live in fear, 
for our turn will soon come round again. Wretched 
parents that we are ! " 

" Why did I bring forth children ?" cried the wife. 
" What is the good of them to me, miserable woman that 
I am ? There were eight ; there are now but seven, and 
soon will the house be empty, for the hunger of our lord is 
not satisfied." 

Thus they bemoaned themselves, and the sound of 
weeping came down also from the loft above the fireplace, 
for the imp pitied them. 

" Weep not," said he ; "weep not, O Lucky One! weep 
not, O wife of the Lucky One ! for I will save your children. 
A strange thing will come to pass to-night. Therefore, fear 
not ; for is not the Cunning One your friend ? " 

Glad then was the heart of the Man of Luck ; and 
he said : " Let not your soul be small, my wife, for the 
Cunning One will help us, and our children shall live." 

But his wife refused to be comforted. " Alas ! " sobbed 
she, " what can he do ? They will die. They will be eaten. 












No one can save them," and she wept more bitterly than 

Then there was a rustle and stir among the things in 
the loft above the fireplace ; and the voice of the imp came 
angrily down to their ears. 

" What words, perchance, are these ? " said he sternly. 
" Am I not the Cunning One ? He that is eaten is dead, 
and we cannot save him ; but the living shall live. Have 
I not said it : I, the Cunning One ? " 

Then the woman dared weep no more ; but she wept 
still in her heart, for she disbelieved his words. When 
darkness came over the land, they put the imp's food up in 
the loft, and lay down to sleep among their children ; and 
in the middle of the night great pains took hold of the 
wife, and she woke her husband, saying, " Rise, husband, 
rise and go for the midwife, for I am very ill." But the 
man laughed and said, " Surely you are dreaming, my 
wife " — for they were both very old, and their youngest 
child was a big lad. But the woman cried all the more, 
beseeching him to go ; till at length he went, though 
indeed he was ashamed, for he said, " Now will they laugh 
at me ; " and he went wandering through the town, not 
daring to do as he was bid. Then came to his mind the 
words of the imp, " A strange thing will come to pass 
to-night," and he said, " Lest this perhaps should be it ! 
Truly nothing could be stranger ; for I am old, and my 
wife is old likewise." So he went at once to the house of 
the midwife, and begged her to come quickly to his wife. 
Then the midwife and her husband laughed at him, and 
mocked him ; but he said, " Listen but a little while to 
me," and told them all that had happened. " And now," 


said he, " love us and come to my wife ; for who knows 
what the Cunning One is about to do ? " 

When the midwife heard this, she said, " Let us go ; " 
and they two went together through the night. Stepping 
softly into the house they heard the imp singing in the loft 
above the fireplace, and this is the song that he sung — 

" Great now is the grief of Faei-puaka, 
Though great her grief her joy shall be greater ; 
Not grievous are tears that are followed by laughter, 
One is dead, but alive shall be saved the seven. — 
One and two, and three and four, and five and six, 
and seven and eight ! " 

Then the midwife went in behind the screen, and the 
Lucky One sat down with his children in the middle of the 
house. Not long had he waited before he heard, within 
the screen, a strange squeaking and squealing, and the 
midwife cried out, " I am afraid ! There are eight ! 
Oh, their cheeks, their feet, the length of their noses ! 
What are these, O Cunning One .? My fear is great." 

Then the imp laughed down from the loft above the 
fireplace, " Fear not, helper of women," said he, " for this 
is the thing that I promised to these two wretched ones. 
Now shall their children live. Rise up, O Lucky One, 
and build a little fence in the midst of your house for the 
creatures which I have now brought to you. Their name 
is ' Pig ' : they shall grow large and fat ; and they shall be 
for the chiefs food, so that your children may live. They 
will also multiply exceedingly ; therefore be not covetous, 
keeping them all for yourself, but give of them to the 

•s2id Jiaqj JoS suBOuiBg aqj moi{ si sti{j puy 

•apjnj aqj jnoqu 
ujtq oj p3T| A^m 9snBD3q 'tjSuojl J° P-^^T ^H' J° i{Jbjm aqj 
uiojj i3i{Jii{ pay iCaqj usqM 'ifyj oj jqSi^j Jiaqi ux uiaqj 
qjTM jqSnojq jCsqj qoiqAV 'sjotu uiaqj 3abS aq 'aiup puoDas 
B psujnjgj Xaqj uaqM 'puy 'Sui5{ jyaqj oj uiaqj qjiM 
5iDBq ^004 iCsqj qoiqAS. 'sSid ujsqj 3abS aq 'apjnj aqj jo 
ypqs aqj Sui^aas 'BouiBg oj suibd bSuojl jo uaui aqj uaqM 
jBqj OS 'sJsSuBJjs OJ sSid SutatS jo jgjjBtu aqj ui duii aqj jo 
spjoM aqj 0} juajpaqo sbav ^jonq jo UBp\[ aqj 'j3A03Jop\[ 

uajp^iqo jno puB sn — 3at^b sn psABS SABq Xsqj joj i B5[Bnd 
-I3BJ aq passa^q puB 'auQ i^^onq aqj aq passa^g .'^fonq jo 
UB]/\[ aqj JO asnoq aqj st asnoq ijnj y , 'SuiXbs aqj sj paapui 
anjjL "ajoui jaAa Joj pua ub jb si qsay J^JJ^ SuuaSunq 
jno jBqj 'jaqjo aqj puB f suaAO aqj ui qsijad ajoui ou {{Bqs 
uajpyyqo jno jBqj 'auo • sn juas mou spo3 aqj aABq sSuiqj 
pooS OAVJL „ 'piBS Xaqj puB 'suBOuiBg aqj jo Xof aqj sbav 
osyB jBajQ „'3Ai{ Xbui uajp^iqD jno jBqj 'pJO| Xui 'Suijajjo 
jno : sn juas aABq spoS aqj qDiqM 'Suuajjo jno st 'pjoy Xui 
'siqx „ 'SuiXbs 'uiiq jqSnojq >|3nq jo ubj^ aqj jBqj Sid jsjy 
aqj pajsBj aq uaqM jaiqo aqj jo Xof aqj sbav jBajQ 'duii 
aqj JO spjoAV aqj oj SuipjoDDB 'X^Suipaaoxa paiidijpui Xaqj 
uiajaqAV 'sjoop jo jno uiaqj joj aouaj jBajS b apBtu aq uaqj 
puB i Suojjs puB 'jBj puB 'aSjB^ AvajS Xaqj y^ij paXBjs Xaqj 
uiajaqAV 'sSid aqj joj aouaj b Suip^inq 'uiaqj paAvoijoj ^{Dnq 
JO UBp\[ aqj puB 'dull aqj jo spjoAV aqj ajaAV asaqjL 

,^'tusi[BqiuuBO qSnojqj qjJBa 
aqj JO aDBj aqj jjo uiojj qsuad we Xaqj jsa{ 'jaqjouB auo 
SuTjBa JO pBajsui uiaqj jBa puB 'spuB| uavo Jiaqj oj uiaqj 
ajjBj Xbui Xaqj jBqj 'jaqjiq SuqiBS auioo oqAV sjaSuBJjs 

^^ SOU xoo ismd 







" TTOW is it, sir," said I to old Tui Naiau, "that 
■'- -■• you, being King of Lakemba, are called Lord of 
Naiau ? Why is not your title Lord of Lakemba ? " 

" Hush ! " said the old chief, with a sort of startled 
look. " No mortal must be called Lord of Lakemba ; for 
that is the name of him who was the god of this land in 
the old, old days. Look you, we are Christians now — we 
have thrown aside our heathen gods, but we remember 
them — we, the old men. And by night, within the 
houses, the young people gather round us, that we may 
tell them about the old times, when we had our own gods, 
and the lotu of the white men had not yet reached Fiji. 

A great chief was the Lord of Lakemba, a great chief 
was he among the gods of old, though he was of mortal 
race by his mother's side, for he was the son of Tui Langi, 
the Sky-King (he who sent Lekambai back to Samoa on 
the turtle) ; his mother, a woman of Tonga, was called 
the " Charitable one," and there he was born. 

When he grew to be a strong lad, he never played with 
the other boys, but kept himself apart ; and his mother 
asked him why he acted thus. 

* E 


" Why, my son," said she, " do you walk alone all the 
day ? Why do you not play with the other children of 
chiefs in the rara (the public square) ? Truly, my son, 
it is not good for you thus to act ; for they call you proud 
and haughty, and hate you ; so that when you are a man 
you will have none to follow you in your goings forth to 
kill your enemies." 

Then the boy looked steadfastly upon his mother's face. 
" Tell me, my mother," said he, " tell me who is my father. 
The boys of the town have fathers who love them. Even 
little Tua-piko, the Hunchback, has a father, for I saw him 
run suddenly away from the other lads as they were playing 
together at ' dragging the bodies of the slain ' ; he ran away 
to a man who was carrying yams from the gardens, shout- 
ing ' Father, my father ! ' And the man stopped, and put 
down his basket of yams, and, smiling upon Tua-piko, he 
took him in his arms, and kissed him, and danced him upon 
his shoulder ; so that little Tua-piko shouted for joy. The 
big boys also — their fathers teach them to throw the spear, 
and to strike with the club, that they may be fitted for war ; 
but no one teaches me." Then the boy smiled, and his 
eyes glittered while he muttered to himself in a low tone, 
" But I teach myself. Yet a little while, and they shall see 
whose spear will fly the fastest through the air, and whose 
club shall be the best crusher of skulls." 

Then was the soul of his mother troubled, for she 
feared to hide from him the name of his father, and she 
was also afraid to tell him, lest he should go away and 
leave her. Great, therefore, was her trouble, and she wept. 
" Truly, my son," said she, " you have indeed a father. 
Not such a one as the fathers of these children of men is 


the father of my child. But indeed, my son, I am afraid 
to tell you his name, lest you should leave me alone in 
this land. Leave me not, my boy, leave me not ; for I 
love you dearly, and if you go away I shall die." 

And she w^ept bitterly ; but the lad only smiled, and 
said quietly, in a low tone, " Tell me his name, mother, 
or I will kill you." Then she told him, and without a 
word he turned round and went away, leaving his mother 
alone with her grief. 

All day long he walked across the land, laughing softly 
to himself, and striking o£F the heads of the flowers with 
his walking-stick — a stick of noko-noko (or ironwood), and as 
the flowers fell around him, he said, " Thus will I strike off 
the heads of my enemies." When it was night he thrust 
the stick into the ground, and lying down beside it slept 
till morning. Then waking, he saw a wonderful thing ; 
for the stick of ironwood had grown up into a great and 
mighty tree, whose head was hidden in the clouds. And, 
climbing up the tree, he saw, when he had got above the 
clouds, that it reached quite up to the sky ; for the sky was 
much nearer to the earth in those days. So he climbed and 
climbed till he reached the sky, and then he cried with a 
loud voice, " Here am I, O Sky-King, my father ! Here 
am I ! " And the Sky-King heard him. " Who are you ? " 
asked the Sky-King angrily, for there had been fighting 
in the sky that day, and he had fled before his enemies, 
so that his soul was sore. 

" I am the ' Child that challenges Men,' your son from 
Tonga," answered the lad (for that was his name in those 
days ; it was not till long afterwards that he was called 
Lord of Lakemba). 


" Come up here, then, that I may see you," growled the 
Sky-King. " Ugh, you are small. Why did you not wait 
till you had grown bigger ? You had better go back again 
to your mother. Men are wanted here, now, not boys like 
you, for we are fighting." And the sky-men, who were 
sitting round the King, laughed at the child. 

Then the lad answered not a word ; but smiling, as was 
his wont, while his eyes glittered, he stepped up to a big 
sky-man, whose laugh was the loudest of all, and smote him 
on the head with his fist so fierce a blow that he fell back 
senseless on the ground, and the laughter ceased, for they 
were all astounded at the boy's strength and daring. But the 
King was mad with joy, and cried out, clapping his hands : 

" Well done ! Well done, my boy ! A terrible stroke ! 
Take this club, my son, and strike him again ; " for the big 
sky-man was now sitting up, winking his eyes, and rubbing 
his head with his hands. So the lad took the club, and 
therewith struck him so dreadful a stroke that the club 
sank down into the midst of his broken skull. Then he 
threw the weapon down at his father's feet, saying, " He 
will laugh no more. And now I had better go back to 
my mother ; for it is men that are wanted here, not boys 
like me." 

" You shall stay with us, my boy," cried the Sky-King, 
catching him by the hand, " you shall stay with us. Let 
the ovens be heated ; for to-night will we feast with my 
son, and to-morrow shall we slay our enemies." So the lad 
sat down with his father and made for himself a club out of 
the ironwood tree. 

And on the morrow, in the early morning, the foe came 
up to the town, shouting for war, and crying, " Come out 


to us, O Sky-King, for we are hungry. Come out to us, 
that we may eat." 

Then the boy rose up, saying, " Let no man follow me. 
Stay you all in the town," and, taking in his hand the club 
which he had made, he rushed out into the midst of the 
enemy, striking savagely right and left, and killing with 
every blow ; till at length they fled before him, and he sat 
down on a heap of dead bodies, calling to the townsfolk — 

" Come forth and drag the slain away." So they came 
out, singing the Death-song, and dragged away the bodies 
of the slain, forty and two, while the wooden drum that 
we call lali sounded the Dorua or " Death-roll " in the 

Four times afterwards, five times in all, did the boy 
smite his father's enemies, so that their souls grew small, 
and they came bringing peace-offerings to the Sky-King, 
saying, " Pity us, my lord, and let us live ; " wherefore he 
was left without an enemy, and his rule stretched over all 
the sky. And the lad stayed with his father, growing up 
into a youth great and tall ; and you may be sure that no 
one dared again to laugh at him after the day when he 
climbed up the ironwood tree, and killed the big sky-man. 
R But after all the enemies had humbled themselves before 
the Sky-King and become his servants, there was no more 
fighting to be done ; and the Child-that-challenges-men 
began to be weary, because there was no one for him to 
kill : so he said to his father, " I will now go back again 
to the earth, and seek a wife among the children of men ; " 
and the Sky-King said, " Good are your words, my son. 
Go down to the earth, and take therefrom to yourself a 
wife." Then he kissed his son, and wept over him ; though 


indeed he was glad at heart at his going, for he feared 

Now the ironwood tree had been swept away by a great 
flood, so that he could not get down again to the earth by 
it ; nevertheless he came down to Fiji at Bengga. We do 
not know clearly how he got down ; but the Bengga people 
say that two men, great and tall, whose faces were white, 
came with him ; and whether they helped him or not 
we cannot tell — all we know is that he lighted first upon 
Bengga. And there, when the gods of the place raised 
their people and fought against him, he smote them with 
a great slaughter, and took their land, dividing it into two 
parts, whereof he gave one to his friends, the white men, 
and the other he gave to the King of Rewa. So he went 
from island to island, smiting the gods in every place, and 
forcing them all to make peace-ofFerings to him, through- 
out all the islands, and all Bau, and the inland parts of Great 
Fiji also, till he came to the Hill of Kauvandra, where the 
great Serpent-god dwelt, and with him he did not fight ; 
for the great Serpent came forth to meet him, saying, " Why 
should we two fight, O Slayer that camest from Heaven ? 
See, here is my daughter. Lady Sweet-eyes ; it will be 
better for you to marry her, than to fight with me." So 
these words pleased the Slayer that came from Heaven ; 
and he married the daughter of the great Serpent. (Now 
" Slayer-that-came-from-Heaven " is the name that the men 
of Bengga gave him.) 

Then he went to Bau, and to all the kingdoms of Vanua 
Levu, fighting with the gods of the land, and making them 
all his servants ; so that he and the great Serpent are the 
two greatest gods in Fiji. Thus he came at length to Wind- 


ward, landing here at Lakemba in the night ; and in the 
morning an old woman found him on the beach, as she was 
going down to fetch salt water. 

" Sa yandra — I salute you, sir stranger," said she. 
" Whence do you come ? " 

" Take me up to the town," said he ; " lead me to the 
house of your lord." So the woman led him along the 
path, and reported him to the chief. 

Now, in those days Wathi-wathi was the chief town in 
Lakemba, as Tubou is at this present day. Each town had 
its own god, who lived among the people, and these were 
the rulers of the land : jealous also were they of one another, 
so that they were always at war, and men were clubbed 
every day. He who ruled here in Tubou was a god 
called Ratu-mai-na-koro, the " Lord that came from the 
Town," and when he heard of the coming of the Slayer-that- 
came-from-Heaven he said, " Let him come hither." So 
they two sat down together in the great house ; and the 
Slayer-that-came-from-Heaven told him about his fight- 
ings, and how that he had conquered all the gods of Fiji, 
except the great Serpent whose daughter he had married. 
And the other replied, " Good is your coming, and good is 
your report. But now let us eat. Truly I am ashamed to- 
day, because I have no food to set before you. Everything 
is taken to Wathi-wathi. But the bananas are ripe. See, 
there is a tree. Let us pluck some and eat." 

" Sit you still," said the Slayer-that-came-from-Heaven. 
" I will go and pluck the bananas that we two may 

But when the townsfolk saw him at the tree, they cried 
aloud, " You there, what are you doing ? The bananas are 


tabu, for the first fruits have not yet been taken to our lords 
at Wathi-wathi." 

Then the Slayer-that-came-from-Heaven smiled, as he 
looked upon them with glittering eyes. 

" I know them not," said he, " these lords of yours at 
Wathi-wathi. One thing only I know — that I am hungry ; " 
whereupon he cut the bananas, and the people shouted for 
war, and fell upon him : but he smote them with his terrible 
fist, killing two outright, and hurting many more ; so that 
the living fled from before him, leaving him alone with the 
dead. And, taking up the bananas and the bodies of the 
two who were slain, he threw them down in the house 
before the Lord-that-came-from-the-Town, saying, " Here 
is food. Come, let us eat." 

Thus also he did on the morrow at Nasangkalau, bring- 
ing the bananas and the bodies of the slain with him, to 
the Lord-that-came-from-the-Town in his house at Tubou. 
Then he went on to Vakano, but the people there brought 
him a peace-ofFering, as did all the other towns also, 
excepting Wathi-wathi, and it he destroyed with a great 
slaughter ; so that all the chiefs came to Tubou, bringing 
offerings, and humbling themselves, whereby Tubou became 
the chief town of Lakemba, as it is to this day. 

Then spake the Lord-that-came-from-the-Town : "It 
is not right, O Slayer-that-came-from-Heaven, that I 
should rule over this people. You alone have conquered 
the land, and you alone shall rule it." 

So the Slayer-that-came-from-Heaven sat himself down 
here in Tubou, ruling all the land. Moreover, he sent for 
his wife. Lady Sweet-eyes, and she bare him a son, whom 
he called Taliaitupou ; after whom also I, the Lord of 


Naiau, am named. Thus he came to be the Lord of 
Lakemba. First he was the " Child that challenges men," 
then he was the " Slayer that came from Heaven," and 
lastly the " Lord of Lakemba." 

Many years did he rule here till his son was a grown 
man, and then he gave the kingdom to him, going himself 
to Tonga, where also he conquered all the mighty ones ; 
and at length returned to his father the Sky-King, with 
whom he lived ever after, receiving the worship of many 

And this is why I, the ruler of this kingdom, am called 
the " Lord of Naiau " ; for our fathers always said that 
if any man should take to himself the title of " Lord of 
Lakemba," he would come down from the sky and crush 
his skull with a blow of his terrible fist. 

Therefore is my title Tui, or lord, of Naiau. 


TN the old days, when we were all heathens, we, the 
'•' men of Tonga, saw a large ship anchored at Haapai. 
Our fathers took counsel together as to how they 
might kill the people and take the vessel ; and a plot 
was laid, cunning and sure ; so that wc looked upon the 
crew of that ship as dead men, and the women laughed 
together, as they said, " See the slain walking about the 
beach. To-morrow they will be in the ovens." 

But, when all was ready, the vessel sailed away in the 
night, and great was the anger of our people when they 
rose in the morning, and found that the bay was empty. 
Great was their rage, and loud was their angry talk, as 
they accused one another of warning the foreigners, so that 
from words they came to blows, and there was a great 
fight, wherein many died, and that night was a night of 
much weeping at Haapai. 
jP In the morning the high priest went into the temple 
to speak with the god, and to inquire why he was thus 
angry with his people, while the townsfolk were gathered 
together, sad and silent, in the public square, waiting to hear 
the words of Alo-alo, the god of the men of Haapai. Not 



long did they wait, for the priest came running out of the 
temple, and sat down in their midst, trembling exceedingly ; 
and there was a great silence and fear, because all the people 
saw that something wonderful had happened. 

" Hear my words," said he at last in a low voice. 
" Hear my words, ye men of Haapai, great is the thing 
that has come to pass to-day ; for with these eyes have I 
looked upon Alo-alo. See ! Look ! Behold he comes ! " 
And from the doorway there stepped forth a cat, which 
seated itself on the top of the mound whereon the temple 
stood, and looked solemnly down upon the people. It had, 
doubtless, come ashore from the vessel ; but our fathers 
then, for the first time, looked upon a cat, and they feared 
greatly, for they thought it had come down from heaven. 
Great were the honours which they paid it ; many the 
feasts that were made ready for it ; and a useful animal 
was it indeed to the priest, who, you may be sure, took his 
full share of the food provided for it, so that both he and 
the cat grew sleek and fat together. 

Then it fell out that one of our canoes came back from 
a voyage to Fiji, bringing many of our countrymen, who 
had been helping the men of Lakemba in their wars ; and 
with them came a Fijian, whose name was Dau-lawaki, 
the Great Rogue, a man strong of soul, fearing nothing, 
believing nothing, and caring for no one but himself 

And when he saw the cat his stomach craved for it ; 
and day and night he could think of nothing else than how 
he could secure it for his food ; but he feared to steal it 
because of the people, who honoured it even as a god ; nor 
could he think of any plan for getting that which his soul 


At length, one night when the townsfolk were all 
asleep in their houses, a great shout was heard in the 
temple, and the people rushed together into the public 
square, crying out, " What is this ? What does the 
shouting mean ? " 

But the priest said, " Stand still, ye men of Haapai, and 
listen ; for it may be that the god is about to speak." 

So they stood in silence, and from the midst of the 
temple there sounded forth a solemn voice. Three times 
was the voice heard, and then all was quiet ; and these 
were the words that were spoken : — 

" Deliver the cat to the Fijian for the eating thereof." 

Then our fathers went back in great awe to their 
houses ; but the chiefs assembled together and took counsel 
with the priest. So in the morning the drum was beaten, 
whereupon all the townsfolk came together in the public 
square, with the chiefs and the old men and the priest in 
their midst, while the cat was brought forth, bound, and 
laid at their feet. Then rose the high priest and called 
the Rogue. " Come forward," said he ; and the Great 
Rogue came forward and sat down in the midst of the 
public square, while the priest spoke on : — 

" We have taken counsel together during the night 
as to this great thing, this wonderful thing which has 
happened. We cannot understand it. Alo-alo has spoken 
to us, his people. But why should he have spoken in a 
foreign tongue ? We are men of Tonga, and he is a 
Tongan god ; why then should he have spoken to us with 
the tongue of a Fijian ? Is it perhaps that, being angry 
with us, his people, he is about to leave us ? What have 
we done ? wherein have we offended ? My soul is small. 


ye people of Haapai. Our god perhaps is hungry. He is 
a great chief, having many followers ; and the food we 
have given him has not been enough for him and for his 
household. Therefore bestir yourselves, and make ready 
for him a great feast, that he may have compassion upon us, 
and not leave us to perish ; for you know that it is he who 
gives us the rain, and the sun, and causes the fruits of the 
earth to grow. Let his feasts be greater from this day 
henceforward : then will he stay in Haapai, and it shall be 
well with us. But one thing is plain to us — that we must 
obey his voice to-day. Rise therefore, Dau-lawaki, kill the 
cat of Alo-alo, and bake it in the oven, that you may eat it, 
according to his word, which was spoken three times to us 
during the night." And the priest sat down again amongst 
the chiefs. 

Then spake the Rogue, trembling like one in great 
fear : " Spare me, ye chiefs, spare me ! Let me not kill 
the sacred cat, lest some great evil befall me." 

But the chiefs looked angrily upon him. " Who are 
you," cried they, " that you should dare question the com- 
mand of the god ? Eat or die ! " 

" Life is sweet," said the Rogue. " Give me a knife, 
and let some of the young men heat an oven." 

So he killed the holy cat, and cooked and ate it, leaving 
nothing but the skull and the bones, which the Haapai 
men buried with great pomp in the midst of the temple. 
And, after this, he begged the chiefs to send him back to 
his own land : " For," said he, " I am afraid of the Tongan 
gods. Have I not eaten their sacred cat ? " 

Then the chiefs ordered a large double canoe to be 
made ready for him, and therein he sailed back to Lakemba, 


whence he came. Three nights they went sailing over the 
waters, and on the fourth morning the land was seen, 
whereat they rejoiced exceedingly, inasmuch as they sailed 
in great fear lest the anger of Alo-alo should follow them 
because of the Rogue. 

A prudent man was the Rogue, and not a word did he 
say about the cat till he landed safe at Lakemba ; and then 
he told all his people how he had cheated the Haapai men, 
hiding himself in the temple at night, and shouting forth 
the words which they thought the god had spoken. " And 
truly," said he, " I was afraid that they would find me out ; 
for I spoke in Fijian, not knowing their tongue ; but they 
are without souls, those men of Haapai ! " And he went 
on to tell them how he had feigned to be terribly frightened 
when they ordered him to eat the cat ; and how they 
threatened to kill him unless he hearkened to their words ; 
till all the people roared with laughter, and said, " True 
now are the words of the Rogue. Men without souls are 
the men of Haapai ! " 

Great also was the shame and vexation of the Tongans 
who had brought him back to Lakemba ; for the children 
were always shouting after them, " Give the cat to the 
Fijian for the eating thereof ! " And they sailed back to 
their land in a great rage. 

But Dau-lawaki took care never to show his face again 
in Haapai. 


THERE was once, so our fathers said, a chief in 
Tonga whose name was Longa-poa, a chief great 
and mighty, strong of arm, bold of heart, wise in council, 
and mighty in war. He was of the royal clan, and was 
reverenced by his own people, and feared by all who 
dwelt in the other islands. 

But, great and mighty as he was, there was never- 
theless one before whom he trembled and quaked, even 
Fekai, the " Ferocious One," his own wife, the daughter 
of the king, a woman tall of stature and loud of tongue, 
whose soul was altogether evil continually. A wretched 
man was Longa-poa, for he feared her greatly ; nor dare he 
lift his club against her, after the manner of other chiefs, 
who kept their wives in order each by the strength of 
his arm ; for useful indeed is the club for women, and 
quiet is the house that is ruled by the stick. But she 
was the daughter of a "Sacred King"; and he could 
not lift his hand against her, for she was nearer to the 
gods than he. 

1 It must be borne in mind that Taliai-tupou was not a Tongan but a Fijian, 
and regarded the legend from a Fijian point of view. For instance, the Tongans 
were not cannibals, and the words he puts into the mouth of Fekai as to the 
bokolas could not have been spoken by a Tongan woman. 



So it fell on a certain day that Longa-poa came 
back from Haa-pai, whither he had gone sailing with 
his warriors because the War-King Kano-ku-bolu, the 
" Heart of Samoa," had said, " Let Longa-poa hoist his 
sail and go to the men of Haa-pai, that they may know 
the evil of their ways, in that they have not sent the 
yearly tribute." And he came back, bringing the tribute, 
a great store of wealth ; for the souls of the Haa-pai folk 
were small before him, and they feared because of their 
revolt. Therefore they gave much more than the ap- 
pointed gifts ; and Longa-poa was glad of heart as he 
came sailing back to Tonga with his deep-laden canoes ; 
and a joyful chief was the War-King when the property 
was brought to his Great House. He said to his men, 
" Bring hither a pig, that Longa-poa may eat. Make 
ready a feast for him, and for his men. Good is his 
sailing ! A happy voyage ! Eat now, Longa-poa, and 
then go away to your house. Is not your wife waiting 
for you there ? " Whereupon a cloud came over the 
face of Longa-poa, which had brightened up when the 
king spoke of the pig. 

So, after the feast was over, he went his way ; and 
coming to the house, he found his wife there, beating 
one of her women with a stick, as her manner was, 
for she was always either beating or scolding, and indeed 
often both of the two at once. When he lifted the mat 
that hung in the doorway, she turned round and saw him. 

" You are come back, then ! " said she, in a scornful 

" I am come, Fekai," answered Longa-poa. " And 
where, then, are the bodies of your foes ? " asked the 


Ferocious One, twitching a tuft of hair from the 
head of the girl that she had been beating ; for she had 
clutched her by the hair with one hand, while she 
was thrashing her with the other ; nor had she let go 
when her lord came in, " Where are your bokolas ? " she 
cried. " Let our share be dragged up to the house, and 
let the young men — the lazy, the useless ones — let them 
make ready the ovens." 

" There are no bokolas, O Fekai," said Longa-poa. 
" Their souls were small, the men of Haa-pai, and they 
brought a peace-offering, giving also great store of 
wealth. Therefore they live, and there are no 

Great then was the Ferocious One's wrath. Her eyes 
glared, and the foam flew from her lips, as she flung the 
tuft of hair, that she had pulled out, in the face of her 
lord — great chief as he was — a thing not to be endured 
by any man. " Let that be your food ! " she cried. 
*' Cursed be the winds that brought you back ! Man of 
a watery soul ! Weak one ! Coward ! A chief, perhaps ? 
Truly a great chief ! A mighty lord ! " And rushing 
upon him, she smote him with the stick with which 
she had just been beating the girl. He leaped to his 
feet and fled from the house, and she ran after him, 
cursing him, till she was out of breath and could follow 
him no longer. 

Longa-poa ran to the seaside, where he sat down on 
I the prow of his canoe, which was hauled up on to the 
beach ; and covering his face with his hands, he wept 
aloud, while his young men gathered round him, sitting 
it his feet in awe-struck silence. 


" Are you all here ? " said he at length ; " Lolo-hea, 
Pulu, Tama-eiki, are you all here ? " 

" We are all here, my lord," answered Lolo-hea in a 
subdued tone, for he was full of distress at the sorrow of 
his chief, and so were they all. 

" Let the canoe float ! " said the wretched chief. 
" Drag her down to the deep water ! " And the young 
men leaped to the work with a loud shout ; and they 
dragged the great canoe into the deep water till it was 
well afloat, and no longer grated along the sand. Then 
said Longa-poa, as he rose to his feet, tall and strong : 
" Listen to me," he cried. " Hear my words this day, and 
let them sink down into your souls. I am going away. 
Henceforth let no man say that Longa-poa is a Tongan. 
A stranger am I in the land where that woman dwells. 
You, therefore, whose souls are small, you who are afraid, 
go back to the shore, and stay with the women. But you 
who love your chief, you whose hearts are strong, come 
with me, and we will find a new land wherein we may 
dwell. My words are spoken ! " 

Then there was a great silence, and the young men 
looked into each other's faces. 

" I will go with my lord," said Pulu. And as he spoke, 
the tears ran down his cheeks ; for he thought of Fonua, 
the young girl to whom he had spoken, and whose friends 
were then making ready the marriage-feast. A fine young 
chief was Pulu, and beautiful exceedingly was the girl 

" We will all go," said Lolo-hea. " We will follow 
you, Longa-poa. If we die in the midst of the waters, 
we will all die together ; and if we find a strange land. 


we will fight with its people, making them our servants, 
and you shall reign over us and them." And thus said 
they all. 


So when they had hastily gathered food and water 
they hoisted the sail, and the great canoe moved swiftly 
over the waters till the land grew dark behind them, and 
the sun went down into the western sea. 

Then cried Longa-poa in a cheery voice from the top 
of the deck-house where he was sitting : " Let not your 
hearts be sore, my men. Good is our sailing ! A good 
wind ! A smooth sea ! It will be a fine night, for there 
are many stars. See also how they twinkle ! Therefore 
will this north-east wind continue to blow. Strike up a 
song, that our hearts may be glad ; for that woman will 
not live for ever, and we shall yet go back to our own 
land in peace." 

Then Moala, the gleeman, began the canoe-chaunt, and 
the young men clapped their hands, keeping time as they 
took up the strain, while Longa-poa cheered them on 
from the top of the deck-house, singing also himself in 
company with them. But when they came to the part of 
the chaunt where it is said, 

" The sun has set, and the land is far away," 

the strong voice of Moala faltered, and grew weak and 
quavering, like the voice of a little^ child — of a little child 
that is about to weep ; and lowering their heads, the 
young men wept with a bitter weeping, as they thought 


of their land now hidden in the darkness, of their homes, 
their kinsfolk, and their friends, all left behind without so 
much as a word of parting, and never more to be seen by 
them again. 

But Longa-poa sang on, as he sat on the top of the 
deck-house. Changing the strain, in a loud voice and a 
stern, he chaunted a song of war. It rang out over the 
waters full and clear above the noise of the weeping, as it 
told how their tribe had taken the stronghold of Vavau in 
the olden days. Nor was it long before the young men 
raised their heads, and the noise of the weeping ceased ; 
for their souls grew hot within them as they hearkened 
to the words ; till, when the chief came to the song of 
triumph which their fathers sang after the victory, they 
leaped to their feet, shouting the war-cry, and joined with 
him in that terrible chaunt which is called " The Song of 

Thus they went sailing throughout that night and the 
following day, passing island after island of the group, 
until at last Niua sank down into the waters behind them ; 
after which no land was seen for many days, and the crew 
said to one another, " We have passed the ends of the 
earth. There is now nothing but water." Nevertheless 
they came to other lands, sailing continually, till the canoe 
became to them even as their house, and the sea their 
land ; nor were they content to stay quietly ashore ; but 
ever after a few days they longed to be sailing again. 
True children of the sea had they become. 

Too long were it to tell you of all the mighty deeds 
they wrought in the lands to which the winds carried 
them ; of all their fightings and feastings, and of all the 


hunger and thirst and hardships they endured. How 
Moala, the gleeman, was treacherously slain on the beach 
of an island, which stands alone in the midst of the sea, 
being thrust through the back with a spear as he was 
gathering firewood ; wherefore Longa-poa smote all that 
people, men, women, and children, leaving not one alive ; 
so that the land is empty even unto this day. How 
Pulu forgot Fonua, being ensnared by a young girl of 
another land, who prevailed upon him to hide himself in 
the mangroves when his comrades sailed away, that he 
might be her husband ; and how she murdered him on 
that very night as he lay asleep, and shared his body out 
among her friends. How Longa-poa, coming back in the 
morning to look for Pulu, found her people feasting upon 
the body, and the head stuck on the point of a spear, 
which was thrust into the ground in the midst of the 
public square ; whereupon the Tongans, shouting their 
war-cry, rushed forward, and smote the townsfolk with a 
great and terrible slaughter, leaving none alive but a 
few, who fled to the hills, and so escaped. How, sailing 
thence for many days without seeing land, they grew 
desperate in their hunger, and ran their canoe down upon 
a sleeping whale, leaping all of them upon him, stabbing 
him with their spears, and so fighting with and killing 
him. How thereupon they grew mad with pride, and 
said, " We are gods ! We are gods ! No children of 
men could have done the mighty deeds that we have 
done." And how the gods heard them, and were sore 
displeased, and took counsel together how they should slay 
them. All this were too long to tell. 

But after that the exiles had killed the whale, nothing 



went well with them ; for how can they prosper with 
whom the gods are wroth ? First, there smote them 
suddenly a raging blast, that tore their sail, breaking the 
mast also, and coming near to sink the canoe. But they 
baled her out, and fought stoutly with the tempest, 
scudding before it for many days, till they were well-nigh 
spent with hunger and weariness. Then they came to a 
land where they thought to rest their limbs and recruit ; 
but the people crept secretly upon them in the night, and 
killed three of them before they could snatch up their 
weapons to fight with. Two more also fell, and Longa-poa 
himself was shot through the arm by an arrow as they 
attacked the town in the morning. Nevertheless they 
took the place, and burnt it to the ground, with all the 
townsfolk. Here they made another sail for themselves, 
and cut a new mast in the place of that which the storm 
had broken, resting also for many days, until the chiefs 
wound was healed. After this they sailed away again, 
and then came the end. 


When they had been two days at sea, Longa-poa 
said to one of the young men, " Climb now to the mast- 
head and look around. There may perchance be land 
in sight." 

" There is nothing, sir," cried the youth from aloft, 
when he had looked all around. But just as he was about 
to glide down the mast his eye caught a little speck far 
away on the waters to windward, and he shouted, " A sail ! 
A sail ! " 


Glad then were the hearts of the Tongans ; and 
seizing their weapons, they struck up the " Song of Death " 
as the strange canoe ran swiftly down towards them. But 
when they were very near, and had risen to their feet, 
making ready to leap on board and smite with the club, 
then suddenly the chieFs heart became as water, and 
scrambling down from the roof of the deck-house he 
thrust the steersman away from the big sheer-oar, and 
luffed close up into the wind. Great then was the wonder 
of his crew ; but not long did they wonder ; for from the 
strange canoe a laugh rang out across the water, loud, and 
fierce, and shrill. And they trembled as they heard it ; 
for they knew the voice — it was the voice of Fekai ! 

" Good is your sailing ! " shrieked that terrible 
woman. " Good is your sailing ! A happy voyage ! 
Long have we been looking for you, and now we have 
found you at last. O villainous chief! O crew of 
rascals ! We have you at last. Rise, my men, and let 
these, our friends, see what manner of gifts we have 
brought them." And, springing to their feet with a 
dreadful shout, they brandished their weapons of war. 
" These are our gifts," they cried. " Come now and 
take them ! " 

And the hearts of Longa-poa and his men died 
within them as they looked upon the faces of the other 
crew, and saw that every one of them was their bitter 
foe. There was Lutui, the Haa-pai chief, whose brother 
Longa-poa had slain, and Mafi, whose wife he had taken 
away by force, giving her to one of his own men — the 
wife of a chief to a commoner — an insult never to be 
forgotten. This he had done unwillingly on the urging 




of Fekai herself, against whom Mafi's wife had offended. 
There too was Fuaki, whose house he had burned, and 
Moa, whose face he had smashed with a back-handed 
blow of his club. Old Napa, also, of Navau was among 
them, whose two sons he had killed at sea, running their 
canoe down in the midst of the waters because they had 
kept their flag flying when he was in sight. Napa was 
old and grey-headed, and his limbs were feeble ; yet he 
stood there shaking a heavy club, and shouting more 
savagely than them all ; for the thought of his two lads 
burned within his soul, and made him strong. These 
and many more had Fekai gathered together to hunt 
her lord, for she longed to kill him ; and now, after 
many days, they met in the open sea. -M 

So Longa-poa fled before his wife, trying to escape ; 
but so equal in their speed were the two canoes, that he 
could not shake her off, nor could she come nearer to 
him, for she had gone to leeward when he luffed up 
into the wind to prevent her from running him down, 
and now both canoes were sailing close-hauled, with 
Longa-poa's to windward. For three days they thus sailed, 
he fleeing and she pursuing — a wretched time ; for when it 
was day, Longa-poa and his men could see their foes chasing 
them ; and during the night the awful voice of Fekai ceased 
not to ring in their ears as she taunted and reviled them. 

On the fourth day land was seen ; and Longa-poa said 
to his men, " Let us go ashore on that island. Here will we 
make a stand against our foes. We shall be there before 
them, for we are still leading. Leap ashore quickly, my 
men, as soon as the canoe touches the beach ; then shall 
we be all in order, and ready to smite them as they land." 


So they steered for the shore, and Fekai yelled with 
joy. " They are going to land," she cried ; " now we 
have them ! They are going to flee to the land." 

But when they were not yet near the island a great and 
terrible thing befell ; for they sailed into water that was 
leaping and bubbling like a boiling pot ; and a raging 
current seized the two canoes, whirling them round and 
round, and carrying them nearer and nearer to a great black 
rock, where the water plunged downwards, white and 
roaring, into a deep, dark cavern, which was — as our 
fathers said — one of the places where men's ghosts went 
down to Bulu, the land of spirits. Here the two canoes 
were brought close together ; but no one thought of 
smiting his foe, for they all crouched down in speechless 
terror, and even Fekai was silent. Her canoe was the first 
to go. Never before had her tongue been idle ; but silent 
she went to her death, and there was an end to her 

When Longa-poa saw her canoe plunge down into the 
abyss, his soul came back to him again. " She is gone ! " 
he cried ; and he laughed in the face of Death. " Cheer 
up, my men, for there is yet a chance. Stand you all 
ready, and when we come close to the rock, leap for your 

And even as he spoke, the canoe was caught by the 
downward rush, and whirled swiftly towards the rock. 

" Leap ! " shouted Longa-poa, springing forward with 
a mighty bound, and clutching a bush which grew out 
of a cleft in the rock. It was a fearful leap ; and he, 
alone of them all, reached the shore. Looking back, he 
saw that they had all gone down, excepting one young 


man, who, though he fell into the water, had leaped far 
enough to clutch the rock with his hands. He held on 
for a moment, and then with a cry of " Farewell, my 
chief ! " he loosed his hold, and gave himself to death. A 
pang smote the heart of Longa-poa ; but so full of joy was 
he at the thought of being now rid of Fekai for evermore, 
that his being left thus alone in a strange land seemed but a 
little thing ; and clambering over the rock, he came to a 
sandy beach, where he lay down at the foot of a palm tree 
and fell asleep, for he was faint and weary. 


Nevertheless, when he awoke in the morning his 
soul was very sad, for he thought of his brave men, of 
all the wars to which they had followed him ; how true 
and faithful they had ever been, even when he led them 
into the very jaws of death. Moreover, he now began 
to think of Tonga, his native land, and the longing to 
return thither was like a burning fire in his soul. But 
how was he to get back ? His canoe was sunk, and his 
men were dead ! Truly in an evil case was Longa-poa ! 
He began to be very hungry also, for heaviness of soul 
does not do away with emptiness of stomach. So he 
said, " If I stay here I shall perish with hunger ; I will 
go and look for food. If the dwellers on this land meet me 
and kill me, I can but die." So, taking a heavy stick in 
his hand, he set forth on his search after something to eat. 

All that day he searched, but nothing did he find, 
neither food, nor dwelling, nor any living thing — not so 
much as even a crab, for it was an empty land. There 


were palms along the beach, but the coconuts on them 
were small, not one of them was as large as an orange ; 
and when the second night came on Longa-poa threw 
himself upon the ground in utter despair, weeping and 
moaning because of his wretched fate. Then there came 
a shrill voice to his ears from the darkness above him, 
calling, " Longa-poa ! Longa-poa ! " 

" Who calls me ? " he cried, springing to his feet in 
great fear ; but still the voice continued its call, " Longa- 
poa ! Longa-poa ! " 

" Here am I, my lord," he said again ; " here is that 
wretched man. But who are you, my lord ? Who is 
it that speaks to me ? " And moving round the palm- 
tree, at the foot of which he had been lying, he saw a 
strange thing between him and the star-lit sky, for just 
on the very end of a long palm-leaf, which would not 
have supported the weight of a rat without bending, 
there sat astride a little old man, bobbing up and down 
as the leaf swayed and tossed in the night wind. Very 
little was he, no taller than the length of an arm from 
hand to elbow ; but his head was big, and so were his 
eyes, which glared through the darkness, glowing like 
firebrands, so that Longa-poa could see the face of the 
little old man because of the brightness that shone from 
his eyes ; and his heart died within him, for he knew 
that it was a god who had spoken. 

" What are you crying for, Longa-poa ? " asked the 
little old man. " What are you crying for ? You are a 
god, you know. You said so when you killed the whale. 
What then are you crying for ? It is not the custom 
of the gods to weep ? " 


Then was the chief terribly afraid ; and he crouched 
down on the ground, clapping his hands softly. " Be not 
angry, my lord," said he in a low tone. " Let not your 
soul be evil against me. Those were foolish words. But 
many are dead ; let that suffice ; is it not enough ? " 

" Where is your wife, Longa-poa ? " asked the little 
old man again, chuckling a grim laugh as he swayed up 
and down on the end of the palm-leaf. " Where is Fekai ? 
Where can I find that excellent woman ? Why did you 
flee from her, Longa-poa .? You are a god, you know. 
You said so when you killed the whale. Why then 
did you run away ? It is not the custom of the gods to 
flee before women." 

" I wish you had her to wife," said Longa-poa within 
himself. " She would make you glad to run away, god 
though you be." But he took good care not to utter his 
thought aloud, and his only answer was a groan. 

" Where are your men, Longa-poa ? " cried the little 
old man. " Where are those great and mighty gods ? 
They are gods, you know. They said so when they killed 
the whale. Surely they are not drowned in the whirlpool 
over there ! It is not the custom of the gods to drown," 
And once more Longa-poa answered with a groan. 

" Are you hungry, Longa-poa } " his tormentor asked. 
" What are your worshippers about ? for you are a god, 
you know. Why do they not make a feast for you ? It 
is not the way of the gods to be hungry. They eat and 
are full." 

Then was the chiefs soul hot within him, and he was 
mad with rage ; nevertheless he answered not a word, and 
the little old man mocked on. 


p " Do you want to go back to Tonga, Longa-poa ? " 
said he with a grin. " Where is your canoe ? Is it at 
anchor, or is it perhaps hauled up on the beach ? Call 
your men, Longa-poa ; hoist your sail and start, for the 
wind is fair. You are a god, you know, and the gods go 
whither they will.' 

" Look you ! " cried Longa-poa, starting to his feet, 
" let there be an end to these words of yours. It is 
enough. I will bear with you no longer. My canoe is 
sunk ; my men are drowned ; I am hungry ; I want to 
go to Tonga ; a stranger am I in a strange land. These 
are the things that made me weep. And now come down 
from the tree and kill me if you like. I can but die, and 
death is not so bitter as are bitter words to one who is 
helpless and without a friend." 

Then the little old man screamed with laughter. Long 
and loud laughed he from his perch on the palm-leaf. 
" Well spoken, Longa-poa ! " he cried at last. " Good are 
your words ! You are a brave man after all, though you 
be not a god, and I will take pity upon you. Be of good 
cheer, for your troubles are over. Get ready now an oven, 
for your hunger must first be appeased." 

" You are mocking me," said Longa-poa. " Why 
should I make ready an oven ? Where is the food ? " 

" Dig out the oven and heat it," said the other. 
" That is your share of the work, the food is mine." So 
he got ready the oven, digging it in the sand, and putting 
dry sticks in it with stones on the top of them, and the 
god dropped a fire-stick down to him to light the wood. 
After a time the little old man spoke again — 

" Is the oven ready ? " he asked. " Are the stones 


well heated ? Go now to that tree on your right hand 
and break ofF a small branch. Bring it hither. Lay it 
on the hot stones, and cover the oven with plenty of 

But the chief was very angry. " This is worse than 
all your taunts," he cried. " What is the use of baking 
a stick ? Come down from the tree and kill me at once ! " 

" Do as I bid you, foolish man ! " the god replied. 
" Follow my words, and your hunger shall be satisfied. 
Why should you wish to die ? " 

Then Longa-poa laid the branch in the oven and 
covered it up, heaping the earth carefully over it. And 
having done this, he sat down in silence and in great 
unbelief, while the little old man, with the big head 
and fiery eyes, went on swinging himself up and down 
on the end of the palm-leaf 

" The food is cooked," he cried at length. " Dig up 
your feast, Longa-poa, for it is ready." 

And Longa-poa cleared the earth from the top of 
the oven, expecting to find nothing but a scorched branch 
in it. But as soon as he thrust in the piece of wood 
he had used as a digging-stick a savoury steam rose up 
into his nostrils, and he shouted aloud for joy. 

" It smells well," said the little old man, sniffing the 
air. " Ah, the pleasant smell ! Dig, Longa-poa, dig ! 
and let us feast together." 

A joyful man was Longa-poa when he had cleared 
away the earth with which the oven had been covered ; 
for there, under the large leaves which he had laid upon 
the branch, as the custom is before the earth-covering 
is put upon the food in an oven, he saw a great pig. 


and ducks, and fowls, and turtle, and all manner of fish, 
and yams, and sweet potatoes — a rich feast, all well 
cooked, pleasant to see, and sweet to smell. " Here now 
is a wonderful thing ! " said Longa-poa. 

So they ate together till their hunger was satisfied. 
Longa-poa made full amends for his long abstinence ; 
but, though he was so many sizes larger than his 
companion — all but his head — he could not eat one- 
tenth part as much as the little old man did, and he was 
lost in wonderment to know how he had bestowed it. 

" I am thirsty," said the little old man at last. 

K Climb one of these palms, Longa-poa, and throw down 
me green coconuts, that we may drink." 
" The nuts are small, my lord," the chief replied. 
" There is not one full-grown one on the island. Have 
I not been searching all the day ? " 

" Climb nevertheless," said the other, and Longa-poa 
did as he bade him, throwing down a cluster of the 
little nuts. Then, coming down from the tree, he fixed 
a pointed stick slanting in the ground, with which he 
tore off the husks ; and piercing the eye of a nut, he 
gave it to the little old man, and then made one ready 
for himself He drank and drank again till his thirst 
was fully satisfied, and when he ceased there was milk 
still in the nut, although he had drunk till he could 
: drink no more. " Here again is a wonderful thing ! " 
he cried. " Truly this is a land of wonders." At this 
the little old man laughed a merry laugh. 

" And now, Longa-poa," said he, " it is time that 
you were going, if you want to get to Tonga before 



. I 
" To Tonga ! " cried the chief in a doleful voice, 

while his eyes grew moist. " Tonga before sunrise ! 

Wonderful was the feast, and wonderful the nut ; but 

Tonga before sunrise, that were the most wonderful of 

all ! Why ! the stars are already growing pale in the 

east. Take pity upon me, my lord, and mock me no 


" Man of an unbelieving soul ! " said the god. " Why 
will you still doubt my words ? Is it then so great a 
thing that I should be able to send you back to your 
home before the sun rises from the sea ? Not so ! It 
is but a little thing. Go now to the tree whence you 
cut the branch, and take thence a slip, that you may 
plant it in Tonga, and hunger no more for ever. Then 
come back hither to me." 

So Longa-poa did as the god bade him ; and when 
he returned, behold a bird great and terrible ! — so tall 
that the tops of the palms looked but breast-high against 
it, as it walked upon the ground, and he was afraid. 

" Fear not ! " said the little old man. " It is my 
bird, and it will do you no harm. Tie yourself to its 
•^ legs with your waistcloth. Tie yourself tight to it 
above its knee, and fear not. It will take you back to 
your land ; and when you reach Tonga, plant then at 
once that slip from the Tree of Feasts. Plant it before 
sunrise. Be sure to do that. Before sunrise ; do not i 
forget ! And now, Longa-poa, farewell, for it is time to I 
go ; the middle of the night is past." j 

" I am your man, my lord," said the chief, as he tied j 
himself to the leg of the bird above its knee. " Hence- i 
forth and for ever will I be your man, for you surely i 


are the mightiest of all the gods." And therewith the 
great bird spread its wings and flew swiftly away. When 
it rose from the earth it drew up its legs and thus held 
him tightly to its breast so that he went safely and at 
his ease. 

" Farewell, Longa-poa," shouted the little old man 
after him, in his shrill voice that carried so far. " Farewell ! 
Remember to plant the slip before sunrise I And, 
Longa-poa ! if ever you chance to kill another whale, 
don't reckon yourself therefore to be a god." And a 
shrill cackle of laughter came faintly up, as the bird rose 
higher and higher into the night. 

When the day had begun to break over the land, 
the bird alighted upon Tonga-tibu, near to the town of 
the king ; whereupon Longa-poa untied himself from its 
leg, and ran up into the town, wellnigh beside himself 
with joy ; and whom should he see coming out of the 
king's house, but his own little son, Vea, his only child ! 
And, when he saw him, he had no thought for aught else, 
albeit the twig was still in his hand, for had he not his boy 
in his arms, clinging round his neck, and crying aloud, 
" My father ! My father ! It is my father. He is not 
dead, as they told me. He has come back to me again. 
My father ! My own father ! " And the shouting woke 
the king. 

" What is this ? " he cried in anger. " What is the 
meaning of this ? " and seizing his club, he rushed out of 
doors. But, when he saw who it was, he threw down 
the club, and running up to Longa-poa, he caught him 
in his arms, and kissed him, weeping over him, for he 
loved him, and had long thought that he had been dead. 


Quickly spread the news, and soon the whole town 
was in an uproar, all the people running together towards 
the king's house to see the great chief who had just returned 
to his own. Only Fonua came not with them, for she 
was ashamed. She had grown tired of waiting for Pulu, 
and had married one-eyed Lua, who beat her every day. 

" Come into the house, Longa-poa," said the king, 
" for the sun is hot outside." 

" The sun ! " cried Longa-poa with a start, and look- 
ing down upon the twig which he still carried in his 
hand, he continued, " The sun ! Wretched man that I 
am ! " And hastily scratching a hole in the ground with 
his fingers, he thrust the slip into it, and called some of 
the men to put a fence round it at once. To this the king 
gave permission at his request, for it was within his own 
precincts. " What is it ? Why are you troubled, Longa- 
poa ? " he asked. " Let us go into the house," was the 
reply, " and I will tell you all. It is a long tale, and sad." 

So they went in together, and the house was filled 
with people who had a place there ; and Longa-poa told 
all that had befallen him, to which the king and the 
people listened in breathless silence, till he had done ; and 
then the king said, " Marvellous things are these ! " and 
the people answered, " It is true ! " 

There was much rejoicing that day in Tonga-tabu 
because the great chief — the wise, the mighty, the pillar 
of the land — who had been mourned as dead, had at last 
returned. But there was much weeping also among the 
kinsfolk of the dead. 

" And so Fekai is gone ! " said the king. " Truly she 
was a wonderful woman. Let us make ready to-day her 


death-feast. A rich feast, my people, for she was a great 
lady, and the daughter of a king." 

So the people made ready the death-feast, and 
mourned for Fekai, because she was dead. Many 
voices were loud in their wail, but never an eye was wet 
with tears ; and when the old man, Afu, spoke aloud, the 
feast being over, and said, " She who never did aught but 
evil while she lived, has done good in her death ; for on 
her account I have eaten, and am full," they all burst 
into a roar of laughter, and Longa-poa's laugh was the 
loudest of all. 

Now the king had no sons. Daughters had he in 
plenty, but his wife had given him no sons. So, when he 
died in the following year, Longa-poa was made Tui, or 
Master, of Tonga, and ruled in his stead, for he was of the 
royal kin, and all the people honoured him. A good king 
was Longa-poa, for he learned many things from what had 
befallen him during his travels ; so that he became kinder 
of heart, and more humble of soul, than he was when 
Fekai threw the tuft of hair in his face, and drove him 
away with her stick. 

The slip, which he planted from the Tree of Feasts, 
grew up strong and flourishing ; but when he baked a 
branch of it, as he had done in the empty land, no 
savoury steam came forth from the oven, and nothing 
but a branch was found therein, when it was afterwards 
uncovered ; for had not the sun risen before the slip was 
planted ? And often, as he looked upon the tree, he said 
with a sigh, " Oh that I had remembered the words of the 
little old man ! " 

And thus here ends the Story of Longa-poa. 


TN the old days there were no mosquitos in Oneata. 
■*■ Happy times were those ; for then we were not 
tormented by their bitings, and our women also were blest, 
in that they were not weary with beating out tree-bark for 
cloths, to make curtains withal, as in this our day. More- 
over, we had then the Kekeo, that excellent shellfish, in 
such numbers that the beach was covered with them. Our 
fathers ate them every day, and were full ; but now, you 
might search the whole island over, and not one would 
you find. 

A foolish god was the root of this evil ; even Wakuli- 
kuli, who was the god of Oneata in the olden time, and 
who dwelt here, as a chief, ruling his people. 

A great stay-at-home was he ; and indeed there was no 
saiUng about in those days, for there were no canoes. But 
when the great Serpent-god brought the great flood upon 
the tribe of the Mataisau (or " Boat-builders ") because they 
killed Turu-kawa, his dove, then certain of them drifted to 
Kambara. Twelve of them were they who drifted thither; 
and they had tied themselves to a big tree, which floated 
with them over the waters. Ten were living, and two 


were dead, having been killed by the sharks as they drifted 
over the sea. So these ten landed at Kambara, and begged 
their lives of the chiefs, who spared them, making them 
their carpenters ; and this was the beginning of our having 
canoes up here to Windward. 

Now the men of Kambara, in those days, were eaten up 
by mosquitos. No rest had they, day or night, because of 
them ; and the noise of the beating was heard continually 
in every house, as the women beat the bark into cloth to 
make mosquito-curtains, till their arms ached and were sore 
weary. Neither had they the Kekeo, that excellent shell- 
fish ; though in these days it is found all along the beach, 
and the inland lake at Vuang-gava (near Kambara) is full of 
it, while never a mosquito is there to wake them out of 
their sleep. And that which brought about this blessed 
change was the wisdom of their god Tuwara, who dwelt 
with them in the olden time, ruling them as a chief; even 
as the god of our fathers ruled here at Oneata. 

Happy is the country where the gods are wise : but 
woe to the land whose god is a fool ! 

A wise one and cunning was Tuwara ; therefore he re- 
joiced greatly when the Boat-builders drifted to his land, 
and told him of the wonderful vessels which they could 
build, wherein men could sail across the seas, even in stormy 
weather, and live. Glad of heart was he ; because he saw 
what good things might come out of his sailing : he saw, 
moreover, that his land was full of splendid timber ; and 
he set the ten carpenters to work at once, giving them 
food, and houses, and wives, that they might forget their 
weeping for those who were lost ; for their beautiful town 
which was swallowed up by the waves ; and for the 


great and mighty kingdom, now gone from them for 
ever. So they settled down at Kambara, with their 
wives, and (in due time) with their little ones, working 
hard every day at the double canoe that they were building 
for the god. 

Two years and more were they in building it ; for in 
those days there were no knives, nor hatchets, nor gouges, 
nor saws, nor gimlets in Fiji. Weary then was the work 
of canoe-building ; for sharp stones were our only hatchets ; 
and we used to burn the logs with fire, on the side which 
we wanted to cut, chopping off the charcoal with our stone 
axes, and then burning again : so that many were the burn- 
ings, and many the choppings before so much as one plank 
was finished ; while, for boring holes, we had nothing but 

^^ pointed shell and a small firebrand. 

^P Nevertheless the canoe was finished at last, and dragged 
down to the sea. Great then were the rejoicings in Kambara, 
and rich the feast that was made for the Boat-builders : but 
Tuwara could not rest till he sailed away beyond the reef 
out into the open sea. So he hurried on the work; and, 
when all was ready — mast, sail, ropes, sculls, steering-oars, 
poles ; even all the fittings — then went he on board, with 
the ten carpenters as his crew, and a great crowd of his 
people besides ; and sailed away before a pleasant breeze ; 
all the Kambarans, who were on board, singing a merry 
song ; while their friends, who stayed behind, ran along the 
beach, shouting after them. 

But, when the canoe began to pitch and roll among 
the waves outside, it was not long before the merry 
chant was changed into a chorus of groans ; and all the 
singers lay sprawling along the deck ; not a man of them 


being able so much as to lift his head ; for they were all 
very sick. 

" Here, now, is a terrible thing ! " moaned Tuwara. 
" What is this, ye carpenters ? What is this fearful sick- 
ness ? Oh, my soul is gone. Villains that you are, to 
bring me into this evil case ! " 

But the Boat-builders only laughed. " Let not your 
soul be small, my lord," said they. " Wait a little while and 
your trouble will be over. It is always thus when we first 
put to sea." Wherewith Tuwara comforted himself, as 
best he might ; and the canoe went swiftly onward before 
the pleasant breeze, till Oneata rose out of the waters in 
their course. 

Then said Malani, the greybeard, eldest of the Boat- 
builders, " There is land, sir, ahead. Shall we steer for it ; 
or whither do you wish to go ? " 

" Steer for it, by all means," groaned Tuwara. " Let 
me but get to land once more ! " 

So they went to Oneata : and, when our fathers saw 
them coming, they were sore afraid, and hid themselves in 
the forest ; for they took the canoe for some great living 
sea-monster coming to devour them : wherefore the town 
was empty when the strangers landed ; and Tuwara threw 
himself down on the mats in the king's house, saying, 
" Now I live ! " But when, peeping out from their hiding- 
places, they saw that the Kambarans were men, even as 
themselves, and that they went about peaceably doing no 
harm, their souls came back to them again ; and, when 
they had heard the strangers' report, they took courage, 
and went down to the beach to see the canoe, whereat they 
wondered greatly. 


Hp Many days did Tuwara stay at Oneata, living in great 
peace and friendship with the god of that island; for the 
Kambarans were loth to depart from so good a land as 
ours, where no mosquitos drank their blood by night, and 
where they ate the shellfish every day to the filling of their 
stomachs. And, when they went away, they took the god 
of Oneata with them, that he might see their land, and that 
they might return to him and to his men the kindness 
wherewith they had been treated at Oneata. So these two 
gods sailed and were seasick together, though the wind was 
light — so light that the sun was near going down into the 
waters when they reached Kambara. Then they landed, 

> and went up to the great house, where a rich feast was all 
made ready and waiting for them, the people having seen 
them coming afar off. 

|l After they had eaten their fill, and when the kava- 
bowl was empty, the god of Oneata began to yawn ; for 

Ke was tired and sleepy. 
" Come with me, friend," said Tuwara. And he took 
im within the great mosquito curtain. 

" What is this ? " asked the Oneata god, in great surprise 

I at the bigness thereof, and the beauty of the painting. " A 
wonderful piece of cloth is this ! We have none such in 
piy land. But why do you keep it thus hung up, Tuwara ? 
^hat, then, is its use ? " 
I " Its use," answered the other — " its use, do you ask ? 
It is a useful thing. It is useful as a — yes, as a screen to 
hide me, when I wish to sleep. Therefore do I keep it 
thus hung up in the midst of the house. And, moreover, it 
^ is very useful when the wind blows strong and cold. But let 
P us sleep now, and in the morning I will show you the town." 


Thus spake Tuwara, because he was ashamed of the 
mosquitos ; for he knew that there were none at Oneata ; 
and he wanted to hide from his companion the thing 
which was the plague of his land. Wherefore he lied to 
him about the curtain. 

Not long was it after darkness had closed in, before the 
house was full of mosquitos, and the god of Oneata heard 
them buzzing in thousands outside the curtain, just as he 
was dozing off to sleep. 

" What is that ? " cried he. " What sweet sound is 
that ? " 

" What can I say to him now ? " thought Tuwara in 
great perplexity ; and not being able to think of anything, 
he pretended to be asleep, and answered only with a snore. 

" Hi ! Tuwara ! " shouted the Oneata god, punching 
him into wakefulness. " Wake up, Tuwara, and tell me 
what sweet sounds are these." 

" Eh ? What ? What's the matter ? " said Tuwara 
with a yawn. 

" What are those pleasant sounds ? Truly a sweet and 
soothing note is that which I now hear." 

" Pleasant sounds ? Ah, yes — the buzzing. Oh, that's 
only the mosquitos." 

" And what are mosquitos ? " asked his companion. 

" They are little insects that fly in the air by night and 
buzz. I keep them to sing me to sleep," said the artful 

" A treasure indeed ! " cried the other god. " Woe is 
me that there are none at Oneata. Give them to me, 

" Give you my mosquitos ! I dare not, indeed. My 


people would never forgive me. They would hate me, 
and rebel. Wretched indeed should we be if there were 
no mosquitos on Kambara." 

" Well, then, give me some of them," pleaded his com- 
panion. " Give me some, and keep some yourself, that we 
may both have them." 

" It is impossible," replied the cunning one. " They 
are a loving tribe. If I send even a few of them away, all 
the rest will leave me. Truly my soul is sore in that I 
must refuse you, Wakuli-kuli ; but refuse you I must. And 
now let us sleep, for my word is spoken." 
k " No, no ! " whined the foolish god, in a voice that was 
neighbour to crying : " refuse me not, I beseech you. Give 
me the mosquitos, that I may take them to our land ; 
and, when we hear their song in the night, we shall think 
of you, and say to our children, ' Great is the love of 
i uwara. 

"That, indeed, is a tempting thought," said the Kam- 
bara god. " Glad should I be for you to hold us in loving 
remembrance. But what am I to say to my people 1 
How can I appease their anger when they rage against 
me, saying, ' Our god has given zwayjor nothing our dear 
mosquitos ? ' " And his voice fell heavy on the words " for 

" For nothing ! " cried the other. " No, truly ! All 
that I have is yours. Name anything that you saw in my 
land, and you shall have it ; only let the insects be mine 
that sing this pleasant song." 

" Well then — I do not ask for myself. Gladly would I 
give you freely anything that is mine ; but my people, 
friend, my people ! You know these children of men, and 


their ways, how covetous they are. And what is there in 
your land that would satisfy them ? Of a truth I cannot 
think of anything at all. Ah, yes ! There is the shellfish ! 
That will do. That is the very thing for these people. 
Fill but their stomachs, and you can do anything with 
them. Give me the shellfish, friend, and my mosquitos 
are yours." 

" Willingly, willingly ! " cried the other in an eager 
voice. " It's a bargain, Tuwara. And now let us lift up 
the curtain and let some of them in, that I may see them." 

" Forbear ! " cried Tuwara, starting up in a great fright, 
lest the mosquitos should get at his companion and bite 
him, and he thereby repent of his bargain. " Forbear ! 
Lift not the curtain, friend, lift it not ! A modest tribe 
and a bashful are they ; nor can they bear to be looked 
upon : therefore do they hide themselves by day, and it is 
in the darkness only that they sing their pleasant song." 

" Wou ! wou ! " exclaimed the silly one. " Wonderful 
things do I hear ! The curtain shall remain unlifted." 

" And now, do let us sleep," said Tuwara; " for it is far 
into the night ; and we will sail together in the morning, 
taking with us the mosquitos." 

So they ceased talking, but neither of them slept ; for 
he of Oneata was listening all night to the song of the 
biters ; and Tuwara was chuckling to himself over the 
good bargain he had made ; being, moreover, fearful that 
the foolish god would find him out before he could get the 
shellfish. " I must not let him rise too early," thought he, 
"lest there should perhaps be still some of them flying 
about the house." 

But his companion was stirring with the first streak 


of dawn. " Wake, Tuwara, wake ! " cried he. " Give me 
the mosquitos, and let us go." 

" La, isa ! " said the other, with a great yawn. " What 
a restless one you are ! Here you have kept me awake all 
night with your talking; and now you want me to rise 
before it is day ! Lie still, Wakuli-kuli ; lie still yet for a 
little while. This is just about the time when the mos- 
quitos are gathering together to fly away to the cave, where 
they sleep till night comes again over the land : and, if we 
go among them now, we shall disturb them, causing them 

flee hither and thither, so that we shall not be able to 
"catch them for you to-day." 

" That would indeed be an unlucky chance," said he 
from Oneata. " Let us by all means lie still, and wait till 
they be fairly asleep." 

But, so great was his eagerness, that he could not rest. 
Sorely did he plague Tuwara ; starting up every little 
rhWt, and crying out, " Do you think they are asleep yet, 
Tuwara ? " or " Surely by this time they are all in the 
cave " : and with many suchlike foolish words did he vex 
the soul of the Kambara god, till he waxed very wroth, and 
would have smitten him with his club, but for his hope of 
the shellfish. Therefore he kept his temper, putting the 
silly one off from time to time, with soothing words, till it 
was broad day ; and then he said, " Now will they be all 
asleep. Come, friend, rise, and let us sail." 

How he got the mosquitos together we do not know ; 
but our fathers said he shut them all up in a big basket, 
which was lined inside, and covered with fine mats, through 
the plait whereof not even a little one could crawl. And, 
when this basket was carried on board the canoe, they 


hoisted the sail, and went out, through the passage, into 
the open sea, steering for Oneata. 

Terribly seasick were they both : but neither of them 
cared so much for it this time ; he of Oneata being cheered 
by the thought of his sweet singers ; and Tuwara because 
he was now well rid of them, and moreover because of the 
shellfish ; wherefore were they both content to suffer. 

The sun was still high in the heavens when they furled 
their sail at Oneata ; and the Oneata god leaped on shore, 
crying aloud, " Come hither, my people. Come hither, 
all of you, and see the good things I have brought. Hand 
down the basket, Tuwara, that the hearts of my people 
may be glad." 

" Not so ! " answered the cunning Tuwara. " The 
mosquitos are a loving folk, as I told you before ; and if we 
were to let them go while I am in sight, they will not leave 
the canoe ; for they love me, friend, they love me. Give 
me therefore the shellfish, and I will depart, leaving the 
great basket with you. And, if you are wise, you will not 
open it till I am beyond the reef, lest the mosquitos should 
fly after me, and leave you." 

" True ! " quoth the foolish god. " True are your 
words, Tuwara. A wise god are you ; for you think of 
everything. Come from the beach, from the sea, from the 
rocks, ye shellfish ! Come ! for your lord is calling ! " 

Then from the rocks, from the sea, from the beach, 
came the shellfish, crawling over the sand, a great multi- 
tude. And the Boat-builders threw them into the canoe, 
our fathers also helping, till it was full, and heaped high 
above the deck, and there was not one shellfish left on 
the land. 


" Go now, Tuwara," cried his companion, " give me 
the basket and go ; for the shellfish are all on board." 

So Tuwara handed down the basket, while the Boat- 
builders hoisted the great sail, and soon the canoe was 
gliding swiftly away towards the passage ; while the Oneata 
men crowded round the basket, asking their god all manner 
of eager questions as to its contents. 

" It must be something wonderful," said they, " or our 
lord would never have parted with the shellfish." 

" Wait and see," quoth the god, with a self-satisfied 

As soon as the canoe had cleared the reef, he untied 
the fastenings of the basket, and lifted the mat where- 
with it was covered. " Here is our treasure," cried the 
foolish god. 

Then uprose the mosquitos in a cloud, fierce and 
angry ; and Tuwara could hear the screams and yells of 
our fathers, as they smarted under the sharp bites of the 
savage insects. 

" The god of Oneata's sweet singers have begun their 
song," said he, as soon as he could speak for laughing. 
" Many fools have I met with among the children of 
men, but never such a fool as the god of Oneata." 

Many were the schemes which the miserable god tried 
! to rid himself of the plague he had bought so dearly ; 
but they were all in vain, for the mosquitos increased in 
numbers day by day ; and their night-song, that sounded 
so sweetly in his ears when he first heard it at Kambara, 
became more fearful to him than the war-cry of an enemy. 

Many plots, also, did he lay to get back the shellfish ; 
but what chance had such an one as he in plotting against 



Tuwara ! Once, indeed, after some years, when he had a 
canoe of his own, he went over to Kambara in the night, 
making sure of getting them. And standing on the 
beach he cried aloud : " Come from the shore, from the 
sea, from the rocks, ye shellfish ! Come, for your lord is 
calling ! " but not one of them came — it was as if they 
heard him not. 

There was one, however, who heard him — even 
Tuwara, who had seen him coming, and lain in wait 
for him. Creeping therefore softly up behind him, he 
smote him full on the head with his club, crying aloud, 
" O villainous god ! Would you steal my shellfish ? " and 
drove him howling down to his canoe. 

Thus the Kekeo, that excellent shellfish, was lost 
to us ; and thus it was that " The Mosquitos came to 


THERE was once a king in Tonga, a man fierce and 
savage of soul, whose delight was in war and slaying, 
so that he was greatly feared among all the islands, but 
loved by none — not even by the women of his house, who 
were many, for he never took to himself wives according to 
the custom of the land ; but if any man whom he slew had 
a daughter whose face was fair, her he took by force, 
killing the ugly ones. Moreover, he would drag away the 
wives or daughters of other men, fearing nothing ; for he 
was a chief great and mighty, with many followers ; all 
the boldest and worst of the young men going with him 
whithersoever he went, smiting his enemies. 

So it fell upon a day when he was sailing over the 
waters in his large double canoe, that a black cloud rose 
quickly up into the sky, and out of this cloud there rushed 
forth a blast, sudden and fierce, which smote his canoe, and 
tore the sail away from the yards, whirling it far off across 
the waters, and then there was a great calm. 

"That was a sharp tooth of wind," said the chief 
Happy are we that we live. But our sail is gone. Take, 


therefore, your paddles, my men, and let us get back to 
the land." 

So they lowered the mast and began to scull ; but very 
slowly did they move, for the canoe was large and heavy- 
laden, also being full of people ; and, when the night came 
over the waters, they had made but little way. All night 
they sculled, till they were faint and weary ; nevertheless, 
when the morning broke, the land was still far away ; so the 
men's souls were small because of the evil case in which 
they were. " We are hungry and faint," said they. " We 
can scull no more." 

And lifting up the paddles out of the deckholes, they 
sat down in silence, while the canoe drifted slowly before 
the swell. 

" We must eat," said the chief. " What food have we 
on board ? " 

" There is none, my lord," answered one of the young 
men. " The last of the yams were cooked yesterday, before 
the squall struck us." 

" We must eat," said the chief once more ; " no man 
can work without eating. Go now and see if there be any 
banana stalks left on the weather half of the canoe." 

Now you must know that there is a hidden meaning to 
this saying. It is on the thama, or weather half of a double 
canoe, that the women sit when sailing, for it is unlawful i 
for them to sit upon the leeward half or kata. Where- 
fore when the chief said, " Go, now, and see if there be 
any banana stalks left on the weather half or thama, 
his meaning was, " Kill one of the women that we may 

So the young man took his club, and looking around 


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r-(,;;i(; 'iini 



among the women, who sat crouching down in great dread 
(for they had heard the words of the chief), he singled out 
Talingo — the Forgotten one — the daughter of Takape, and 
beckoning to her with his club, he said : " Come, Talingo ; 
the chief is calling you." 

So the girl rose, holding her baby tight to her breast 
and came slowly towards the stern, where the chief was 
sitting. But just as the club was raised to strike, with a 
shrill and sudden cry she leaped into the sea, diving down 
with her child far below the waters. 

" My spear ! my spear ! " shouted the chief. " Give 
me a spear. Ha ! This is the hook that will catch that 
fish." And, with a savage laugh, he shook the weapon, as 
he stood, with his left foot drawn forward, gazing eagerly 
upon the water, where he expected her to rise. 

But she dived below the canoe, and coming up again 
between the leeward and the weather portions of the canoe 
she stayed there silently, holding on by the cross-pieces 
below the deck, so that, after a long while, they said : 
*'The sharks have eaten her and the child. They will 
rise no more." 

But Talingo hid herself till it was dark. And from her 
hiding-place she heard the crack of the club, and the death- 
shriek, and the talk of the crew as they made ready the 
victim. For when the young man, even Faha, asked the 
chief, saying : " Whom now shall I take, for the sharks 
have devoured the girl, and we must eat," His lord glared 
upon him in fierce anger. 

" True," cried he, " we must eat. And you — -you shall 
be eaten. Why did you not strike her before she leaped ? " 
And, with these words, he smote him through and through 


with the spear that he held in his hand. Then it was 
that Talingo heard the death-shriek, and the crash of the 
heavy club. 

When it was dark she floated quietly away, dragging 
the steer-oar ofF the stern, where it lay idly, for the crew 
were all feasting, and, laying her child on its broad blade, 
she steadied it by the handle, and so drifted away into the 
darkness, she knew not whither. 

Four days she drifted, weeping continually, but ever 
suckling her child, and fighting with the great seabirds 
which circled round them, often swooping fiercely down ; 
and, in spite of all her care, one of them struck the child 
with its beak, tearing out one of his eyes. Four days they 
drifted over the waters ; then, early on the fifth day, the 
waves cast them upon the reef at Ono, and Talingo, gather- 
ing her strength, dived through the breakers and swam 
across the lagoon, landing near Onolevu, where she crawled 
up the beach, and sank down at the foot of a palm, she and 
her child. 

Now there dwelt in that town an old man called 
Tausere, with Senirewa his wife, and their house was 
empty, for they had no children. On this very morning 
they went together to the beach to drag their paddle-canoe 
into the water that they might go fishing, and down by 
the waterside the old man saw Talingo lying beneath the 
palm with her baby sleeping at her breast. 

"Who is this?" cried he, stooping over her, and he 
wept as he looked upon the poor girl, for she was dead, 
and lay there still holding her child, which was sleeping 

" Oh, Senirewa ! Oh, my wife ! Here, now, is a 


piteous sight ! " sobbed the old man, and his wife also 
wept with him. 

" They are strangers," said she. " They are Tonga 
folk. A Tonga canoe has been wrecked, and they have 
drifted hither. Alas, alas ! She is young, and her face is 
fair. And the child ! True are your words, husband ; a 
piteous sight, indeed, is this. But come, now, let us dig a 
grave and bury them." 

These were her words ; but as she made an end of 
speaking, and stood there with her husband, looking sadly 
through her tears upon the dead, suddenly the child 
opened his eyes and smiled in her face. Then did the 
woman's heart burn within her, and with a joyous cry she 
sprang forward and snatched the child from its mother, 
hugging it to her breast, and laughing and crying by 

" Oh, my son, my son ! " cried she. " My son you 
are ; my true son shall you be, for the gods have sent you. 
Look, husband, look at our boy ! We shall weep no more 
because of our empty house. The gods have taken pity 
upon us." And having thus spoken, she wept aloud 
for joy. 

So they buried Talingo on the beach, where she had 
lain down to die, after bringing her child safe to land ; but 
the boy they carried with them to the town. And when 
the neighbours ran together, asking all manner! of questions 
— whence he came, and whose child he was — they answered 
always in the same words : " Our son, our true son, whom 
the gods have sent us over the sea " — this much and 
nothing more. 

And the child lived and throve, growing up into a fine 


lad, quick of hand, swift of foot, and loving of heart, so that 
his foster-parents rejoiced more and more every day, thank- 
ing the gods for the gift v^hich the sea had brought them ; 
and they called his name Matandua, because one of his eyes 
was gone. But Talingo lay in her grave on the beach, with 
the waves rolling over her when the tide was high. And 
often, when the north wind blew by night, the men of 
Ono, trembling within their houses, heard a voice of bitter 
weeping on the shore ; and when this doleful sound came 
floating through the air, the boy would start in his sleep 
and moan, while the tears ran down his cheeks. 

Once the old woman took him by the hand and woke 
him, whereupon the lad started up in a fright, and the 
sound of the weeping ceased. 

" Where, then, is the lady ? " cried he, gazing around 
like one bewildered. " Where is the lady ? " 

" What lady, my son ? " asked his foster-mother, 
trembling sorely. 

" Oh, mother ! " said the lad ; " was it, then, only a 
dream ? I saw her ! I heard her weeping ! Her tears 
fell down on my face like the rain ! Look, mother, look, 
my cheek is still wet ! It surely was not a dream ! " And 
he brushed the tears away with his hand. 

" The tears are your own, my son," said she soothingly. 
" You were crying in your sleep, and therefore did I waken 
you. But who was the lady ? You have been dreaming 
only, my child." 

" I saw her ! I saw her ! " cried the lad. " She was 
tall and noble, like a great lady. Her hair was not brown 
and curly like yours, but stiff and black, and her skin was 
fairer than yours. She was wet all over, as if she had been 


bathing, and she stood over me, crying and wringing her 
hands. Oh, my mother, tell me who was this lady ; for it 
seems to me that I have seen her before, and my heart 
burns within me as I think of her sorrowful face." 

" How should I know, my son ? " said the old woman ; 
" how should I know ? Many are the strange faces that 
we see in dreams. Lie down again, and sleep, my child. 
Let not your soul be troubled because of a dream." 

So the boy lay down again and slept ; but when his 
foster-parents looked upon him, as he lay sleeping, they saw 
that the tears were still rolling down his cheeks. 

" It was his mother," whispered the old man. " It 
was his mother ! His heart knew her. See, he is still 
weeping. Let us tell him all." 

" Hush ! " said the old woman, in an angry whisper. 
" Hush ! He must not know. Am not I his mother ? 
Have I not nursed him and tended him day and night ? 
Could his mother have done more for him ? Could she 
have loved him better than I ? And now you say, ' Tell 
him all ! ' Foolish are your words. Is she not dead ? I 
am his mother, and he shall know none but me." 

So they held their peace : and though the sound of the 
weeping was often heard, yet never, after this night, did 
they waken the boy, when he moaned and wept in his sleep. 
And always, in the morning, he had forgotten his dreams ; 
nor was the weeping ever heard when he was awake. 

In the course of time he grew up to be a youth, 
tall and strong, and useful in the land. Gentle also, and 
kind was he to all, and very loving to his foster-parents, 
who were now old and feeble ; so that they were well 
repaid for all their love to him ; for they were alone in the 


land, all the rest of their tribe having perished long be- 
fore, men, women, and children, in a great fight with the 
people of Doi ; wherefore they would have been wretched 
indeed, if he had not been with them, for who, among 
all the other tribes in the town, would have cared for 
them ? 

But the young men hated him. They hated him be- 
cause he would not go with them, nor would he help in 
their evil deeds. 

" Go you," he would say, " and do as you please, for 
you are free. You are many in your tribes, and your old 
folks have many to help them. But we are few. Our 
people have perished, and I only am left to care for those 
at home." 

They used, at first, to mock him. But he would only 
laugh, repeating his words, " Go you, and do as you please. 
As for me, I shall stay with my father and mother." 

They feared him also, for he was strong, and skilled in 
the weapons of war. And one day, when Yango-levu, the 
Big-bodied, the son of the Lord of Ono, wishing to vex 
him, struck Tausere, his father, on the head with a club, 
the One-eyed one sprang upon him with a fierce cry, and 
smote him to the earth with his fists. Then snatching up 
the club which had fallen to the ground, he whirled it 
round his head, and stood there, glaring savagely round 
upon all the young men, and they were many. 

" Who will strike next ? " he shouted ; and his voice 
rang out clear and high over the land, so that all the 
townsfolk heard him, and came running down to the beach 
where he stood. " Here am I ! Who will strike next ? 
Hear my words, O Lord of Ono ! Hear my words, ye 


chiefs ! He struck my father, the greyhead, the old, the 
feeble one. Without a cause he struck him." 

" It is enough," said the Lord of Ono, " lower your 
club, Matandua. Listen to me. Hear, now, my words, 
ye youths. Listen, all of you. Do you wish to die ? 
Right is the thing that he has done. He, therefore, who 
hurts him, hurts me. He that will fight with him, must 
fight with me, I have spoken ; I, the Lord of Ono." 

So they feared him greatly because of his strength and 
fierceness, and, moreover, because of the King's words : 
and, fearing him, they hated him all the more ; nor did 
they cease from plotting together how they might kill him. 
And, though they dared do nothing openly against him, 
yet did they many things secretly — they, and some of the 
chiefs who favoured them. The Lord of Ono was an old 
man, lazy and careless ; and it was only when he was 
roused to anger that he would bestir himself. Thus when 
the work of the land was portioned out among the tribes, 
they gave a full share to the tribe of Tausere, even though 
his own little household was the only one therein. But 
thereby they did but gather disappointment and rage to 
themselves, for the One-eyed one's task was always the first 
to be finished. If it were fish for a great feast, then the 
lad's basket-snares were always full while theirs were 
empty ; for Talingo helped him, driving the fish away 
from theirs into his. Or, if the order was that timber be 
felled, then the fire, which he kindled round his tree, would 
burn it through in a single night, because Talingo tended 
it, while it would be many days before their trees fell. 
Thus it was ever with all the tasks that were set ; but, 
when the high-priest called the people together, and told 


them that a new temple, larger than any of the others, 
must be built for their gods, then Matandua's enemies 
rejoiced exceedingly. 

" Now we have him," said they. " Here at last is a 
thing he cannot do." 

So the work was portioned out, and one whole end of 
the temple was given to Tausere as his share. Wherefore 
came he, weeping, into the house, where his wife was sitting 
with the lad, combing his hair, and anointing him with 
sweet-smelling oil ; and weeping, he told them the news. 

" What ! " screamed the old woman. " A whole end ! 
Do they think we are gods ? Where shall we find the 
sinnet ? How shall we carry the posts ? Are there, then, 
none given to help us ? " 

" Not one," answered Tausere ; " not even a child. 
They hate us, these chiefs of ours. They have a mind to 
kill us. Let us therefore die at once, and make an end of 
it ; then will our lords be satisfied. Take pity upon us, 
Matandua, and strangle us both ; for we are old, and 
feeble, and useless." 

" It is good," whined the wife. " Hear the words of 
your father, my son. Strangle us, that we may die." 

" Not so," cried the One-eyed one. " You shall live. 
Let us try once more, and if this thing be too hard for 
us, then let us flee together to some other land. If we die 
in the midst of the waters, or if the people of the land 
whither we go kill us because we are strangers, it is but 
dying after all. Let us therefore try once more." 

" Good ! " said Tausere. " Let us try. It will be 
useless ; but still let us try yet this once. Come now, here 
is coconut fibre. Let us make sinnet to-day." 


So they sat down together in the house, plaiting sinnet. 
And every time that they twisted the fibre a full fathom 
was done, neat and well laid ; wherefore they worked in 
great wonder and awe, for it was plain that some god was 
helping them. And before the night came over the land 
the floor of the house was covered with beautiful sinnet 
of various colours. 

" It is enough," said Tausere, and they wound it up 
into a ball, large and heavy. 

" Here now is a wonderful thing," whispered he to his 
wife, when Matandua had fallen asleep. " Here now is 
a wonderful thing. What can it be, my wife, for the like 
thereof was never heard of before." 

" It is his mother," answered the old woman. " It 
must be his mother. Who else of ' Those who are absent ' 
would care for him ? " 

" True perhaps are your words," said the man ; " but 
whether it be his mother, or whosoever it be, one thing is 
plain — that it was a happy day for us when we found the 
child on the beach. And now let us sleep, for it is far 
into the night, and there is a great work and heavy to be 
done in the morning." 

On the morrow they went to cut down the posts, and 
when they had found a clump of trees which were fit for 
the purpose, before they could light their fires to burn 
them down, suddenly a furious blast swept through the 
forest, and in a moment the trees lay at their feet, with 
all the branches broken off, so that they were ready for 
fashioning into posts. Great also was their wonder when 
they went about to lift them, for the big logs were no 
heavier than so many little sticks ; and they carried them 


down into the town, throwing them down on the spot 
where the temple was building. And all the people were 

" What sort of wood can it be," said they, " that even 
old Tausere can carry so big a log ? " but when they tried 
to lift them, no two of the strongest among them could so 
much as raise one end of the smallest post. 

Thus all the work was made easy to Tausere and 
Matandua, so that they finished their end with ease, often 
having to wait for the other tribes, to whom the sides of 
the building had been allotted. 

Then said the young men among themselves, " Useless 
is all that we have done, we must kill him ourselves." 
So, having plotted together, first of all they dug a deep 
pit, the mouth of which they hid with sticks and grass, 
and made ready a plan for enticing him thither, that he 
might fall therein and die. But when it was finished, 
and they were going back in great glee to the town, the 
sun having gone down below the waters, and the moon 
shining bright and clear, suddenly they saw in the path 
a strange woman, wondrous fair, whose look was even as 
the look of the women of Tonga ; her body was wet, as if 
she had come from the sea, and the drops on her hair 
glistened in the moonlight, as she stood before them in the 
path, holding in her hand a large steer-oar. 

"Who are you ? " shouted " Big-body," who was walk- 
ing in front, while the young men followed him. " Who 
then are you ? Why do you not speak ? " for the woman 
answered never a word ; and when he ran forward she 
turned and fled into the forest. 

" Seize her ! " cried the son of the Lord of Ono, 

MATANDU A 1 1 1 

rushing after her ; and the young men followed him, 
shouting aloud. 

Swiftly ran the woman through the forest, doubling 
on them till she came out again into the path behind them, 
and ran forward towards the pit which they had been 
digging, over which she passed as if it had been solid 
ground ; and the young men were close behind her, 
forgetting the pit in their eagerness to catch her. Then 
rang through the forest a dreadful laugh, loud, fierce, and 
shrill, as " Big-body," with ten more of the foremost — 
eleven in all — fell headlong down into the pit which they 
had dug for the One-eyed one, and the hindmost turned 
and fled, with yells of terror, back, to the town. 

" Oh, evil day ! " cried the Lord of Ono, when he 
heard the news, " My son is dead ! Oh, evil day ! " 

And, gathering together a great company, he led them 
through the wood. And when they came to the mouth 
of the pit they heard a noise of dismal groaning and cries 
of agony, for three of the young men were killed outright, 
and the others lay grievously wounded by the sharp stakes 
which they had planted in the bottom for the One-eyed 
one, one of which had so torn the knee of " Big-body " 
that he was lame for ever after ; and men thereafter called 
him no more Yango-levu, or Big-body, but Loki-loki, the 

That was a night of much weeping in Ono ; but when 
Tausere heard of the matter, he whispered to his wife, " It 
was his mother. See how she watches over him ! " and 
they rejoiced together. Moreover, during the night, when 
the moon was high in the heavens, there rang forth from 
the beach a voice of singing, as of one chaunting a chaunt 


of savage triumph in the Tongan tongue. And Matandua 
laughed in his sleep, shaking his hand, as if it held a 

None of the men of Ono knew the song, or its mean- 
ing ; but there was one who knew it, even Vatui, a man of 
Vavao, who, many years before, had drifted to Ono in a 
large canoe, which had been driven from Tonga by a 
dreadful storm. A young man, stout of heart and strong 
of arm, drifted he to Ono ; but now he was old and feeble 
and blind, and would sit moping all day long in the house 
of the King, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, and speaking 
never a word. But when the first notes of that fearful 
chaunt came ringing through the night, he started to his 
feet with a terrible cry, and stood there before them all, 
glaring around with his blind eyes, and quivering in every 
limb — an awful sight to see. 

" Is there death in the town ? " cried he in a hollow 
voice. " Is there slaughter ? Is there blood ? Woe, woe, 
woe, to the land ! I know it ! I know that terrible 
chaunt ! I heard it on a bloody day. I heard it when the 
warriors took our stronghold, and slew our people. Thus 
they sang as they dragged the dead bodies to the ovens. 
It is The Song of Death ! " 

These were the words of Latui ; and word spake he 
never again ; for the blood gushed from his mouth, as he 
sank down upon the mats ; and, when they ran to lift him 
up, behold, he was dead ! 

Great then was the fear that fell upon all the people ; 
nor did the young men plot any more against Matandua, 
for they were afraid. Nevertheless, after many days, when 
they went to Thakau Lala, the Empty Reef, to catch 



turtle for the feast of the yearly tribute, for which their 
lords had come, the lords of Lakemba ; then having 
fished all day in vain (for they caught but one), they 
fastened their canoes to the reef by night, and waited for 
the morning. And at low water the young men 
gathered together on the king's canoe to sing songs and 
tell tales of the olden days, as their manner is ; but 
" One-eye " stayed by his canoe and slept alone upon the 

So it fell out that, when it was dark, " Big-body " came 
limping by with the young men, his followers ; and, when 
he saw him, whom his soul hated, lying there asleep alone 
on the canoe, his heart gave a great leap in its joy ; and 
creeping softly to the stake, which was thrust into the 
reef, he untied the mooring-rope, while his comrades stole 
the paddles ; whereupon the canoe drifted slowly away into 
the darkness, for the tide was still running out, causing 
a strong current, and the wind was blowing gently from 
the shore. 

"Good-bye, One-eyed One," shouted " Big-body," with 
a laugh of savage glee, and the young men laughed with 
him. " Good-bye, One-eyed One ! A fair wind ! A 
happy voyage ! " But the One-eyed One heard him not, 
for he was sleeping soundly. 

And, as he slept, he dreamed a dream. He dreamt 
that he was floating away out to sea in an empty canoe, 
and that when he looked for the paddles, behold, they 
were gone ! Great then was his fear, as he saw the land 
growing dim astern, and nothing but the waste of waters 
before and around him. 

Then, as he sank down in utter despair upon the 


deck, his eye caught a black speck rising on the top of a 
distant wave ; and when he looked steadily upon it, he 
saw that it was moving slowly towards him, and his 
heart burned within him, he knew not why. " It is like 
a man swimming," said he to himself; but it was some- 
thing more marvellous than that. For in his dream he 
saw a woman, light of colour and wondrous fair, swim- 
ming towards him and pushing before her a large steer-oar, 
on the blade whereof sat a child whose face was stained 
with blood, which trickled down from its wounded eye. 
Coming near to the canoe, she dived below the waters and 
disappeared. Then from under the deck, between the 
weather and the leeward portions of the canoe, there came 
a sound of bitter weeping ; and it was in his mind to rise 
and look beneath the deck, but it seemed to him in his 
dream as if he could not stir, though he strove till the 
sweat rolled off his limbs, so he lay still in great trouble 
of soul. And presently a sad voice was heard, calling him 
by name, " Matandua ! Matandua ! Oh, my son, my 
son, Matandua ! " 

" Can it be you, Senirewa, my mother ? " asked he in i 
great astonishment. 

" No, my son," answered the voice, " it is noti 
Senirewa. It is your mother, my son, my dear son — 
your true mother, Talingo." 

" Surely I know the voice," cried the lad, still dream- 
ing ; " surely I know the voice ! But this now is a 
strange thing that you tell me. Is not Senirewa my 
mother ? Is not Tausere my father f They with whom 
I have lived all my life ? " 

" No, my son, no ! " cried the voice with exceeding 


earnestness ; " I alone am your mother. They are good 
people, those two. I love them because of their love to 
you. But I alone am your true mother ; even I, Talingo. 
Listen now, my son, I will tell you all." And beginning at 
the beginning she told him how she, a young girl, had 
been taken away by force by the cruel chief, on the woeful 
day when her father was slain ; how she leaped overboard 
to escape being eaten ; how they two together had drifted 
to Ono ; and how she had watched over him day and 
night, helping him in his work and saving him from 
danger and death. All these things did Matandua hear 
in his dream. 

" And now, my son," continued the voice, " know that 
it was ' Big-body ' who sent you adrift ; and it will not be 
well for you to stay in the land where he dwells, for the 
name of the Lord of Ono has been called in the Land of 
Spirits — the messenger is even now on the way to summon 
him — and your enemy will be king when his father is 
dead. Wherefore, my son, my dear son, hear now the 
words of your mother who loves you. Go back to Ono. 
It is true that your paddles are stolen, but there is yet this 
steer-oar. With it you will be able to reach the land, 
before the canoes return from the fishing. Go back once 
more to Ono ; and, having taken those two loving ones 
on board, hoist your sail and return to your own land, 
even to Tonga. Fear nothing, my son. The wind will 
be fair, and no evil will befall you ; for is not your mother 
watching over you ? I shall be with you, even though 
ou see me not. And now, awake, my son, awake, and 
cmember these my words." And she struck the side of 
he canoe with the steer-oar. 


Then Matandua, starting from his sleep, heard a 
knocking against the side of the canoe ; and, stooping 
down, he saw a large steer-oar floating between the 
weather and the leeward portions of the canoe, but 
nothing else did he see. 

" Oh, my mother ! " he cried, " my dear mother ! 
Will you leave me thus ? Let me but see you with my 
eyes, my mother, my dear mother ! " 

But there was no voice, nor sound, save only the 
rippling of the waves against the canoe. Nevertheless, 
the steer-oar, which he had caught by the handle when 
he saw it floating, began to work backwards and forwards 
in his hand with a paddling motion ; and thereby he 
understood that Talingo wished him to start. So he sat 
down, weeping, on the stern, and rowed with the heavy 
steer-oar towards the land. But, though the steer-oar 
was large and heavy, yet it was light in his hand, even 
as a small paddle ; and the canoe moved swiftly over the 
waters as if it were sailing before a pleasant breeze. i 

" Surely my mother is helping me," said he. 

It were too long to tell of all that passed between i 
him and the old people, when he told them that his 
mother had come swimming over the waves to save him 
once more from certain death ; how Senirewa tried, with 
many words and much weeping, to persuade him that 
it was all nothing more than a dream, vowing and 
declaring that he was, her true son, and she the mother 
who bare him, and how her husband silenced her at last. 

" Woman ! " said he sternly ; " it is enough. Lie 
no more to the lad. True are the words of Talingo, 
my son ; true indeed are her words. She, and she 


onlv, is your mother. But we have loved you well. 
Ever since the day when we found you on the beach 
have we loved you well and truly. A good son also 
have you been to us. Weep no more, wife. Why 
should you weep ? for he will love us none the less 
now that he knows the truth." 

" I love you all the more ! " cried he. 

So, after many words, they went on board the canoe, 
taking with them such things as were needful, and sailed 
away before the pleasant breeze, which carried them 
steadily along for three days, and then Tonga was in sight. 
Now, on the night before they made the land, the young 
man dreamed yet another dream. He dreamt that his 
mother came through the moonlight, not swimming this 
time but stepping lightly over the waves from crest to 
crest, her bare feet glistening amidst the foam. She 
came, and looking down with sad eyes upon the face of 
her sleeping son, she told him many things as to how 
matters stood in Tonga, advising him how to act. And 
truly, they needed advice ; for not one of them knew the 
islands, or the reefs, or the passage — strangers were they, 
sailing to a strange land. 

But when the white line of surf was seen in the 
distance, there flew from the shore a little green bird 
with a white breast, and lighted down upon the head of 
the young man as he stood steering, and then flew away 
towards another island, which was faintly seen to lee- 
ward, returning again, after a while ; thus going and 
coming many times. 

" Slack oflf the sheet, father," said the young man. 
Let us keep her away, and follow the bird." 


So Tausere slacked off the sheet ; and when the prow 
of the canoe was pointing to the island, then the little green 
bird settled on the young man's head and slept. But, when 
the reef was in sight, it rose again, making straight for the 
passage ; and the young man steering after it took his 
canoe through the opening in the reef into the still 
waters of the lagoon, and ran her ashore on the sandy 

Now the island whereon they landed was Tonga-tabu 
or " Sacred Tonga," and the great town, the town of the 
king, was near at hand. But, when they went up thither 
to present themselves to the chief, behold, the town was 
empty and silent, the hearths were cold, the houses were 
falling to ruin, and grass was growing in all the paths. 

" The town has been smitten," said Tausere, whereupon 
his wife began to weep. 

" Not so," said the One-eyed One. " When did a war- 
party smite a town and not burn the houses ? No enemy 
has been here. Some terrible thing must have come to 
pass, for this has been a town of chiefs. Look now at the 
houses, how many they are and how great. Perhaps the 
townsfolk have been devoured by an evil disease, and the 
remnant have fled away, leaving the town with the dead." 

" Let us go too," cried the wife ; " I dare not stay 
here in this empty town. It is a fearful thing to stay with 
the dead. Look, my son, look ! There is the bird that 
guided us hither. Ah, my lord, you have brought us into 
an evil case. Here are none but the dead. Pity us there- 
fore, I pray you, and lead us to some dwelling-place of the 

Thus spake the old woman in a lamentable tone, as 


with streaming eyes she looked upwards at the bird, which 
was hovering over their heads ; and when she had made an 
end of speaking, it darted away. 

" Let us follow the bird," said Matandua. 

And, following it, they went through the town ; out 
into the forest, through the gate of the war-fence at the 
back, over a mighty hill and down into the valley beyond, 
where the bird rose suddenly upwards with a shrill cry 
and then darted down into a dense thicket on the other side 
of the brook which ran through the valley. So they 
forded the stream ; and, when they came to the thicket, 
behold a lamentable sight ! Truly a mournful sight was 
that which their eyes beheld ; for there sat a band of men 
famine-stricken, gaunt, and woe-begone. Round in a circle 
they sat upon the grass, gazing with lack-lustre eyes upon 
one who lay dying in their midst. An old, old man was 
he ; and he lay there gasping for breath, his grey hair, all 
bedaubed with filth, streaming over the ground. 

Stern of countenance and fierce of look was the One- 
eyed One as he stepped within the circle and bent over 
the dying chief, for he knew him, having been forewarned 
of all these things in the dream which he had dreamt on 
the night before they made the land, when his mother 
came to him, walking over the waves. 

Stern of countenance and fierce of look was he ; and, 
with a gurgling cry of horror, the old man struggled to a 
sitting posture, and gazed with fearful eyes not upon him, 
but upon the bird which had again perched on his head. 

" Take her away ! Drag her away ! " he cried in a 
voice shrill with terror, while his flesh twitched and 
quivered and crept, and the foam gathered upon his lips. 


" Hold her hand ! Take from her the steer-oar ! Why 
should she smite me with it ? " Then, in a whining tone, 
" Why should you smite me, Talingo ? It was not I. It 
was the young man, even Faha. I killed him for it. I 
thrust him through with' the spear. Pity me, pity me, 
Talingo, for I am an old man and weak." 

Then, with a despairing howl, he threw up his hands 
as if to ward off a blow, and fell back — dead. 

" He was my father," said the young man, looking 
down upon the body. " An evil father has he been to me. 
It was in my mind to kill him, for he killed my mother, 
even Talingo, but now have the gods taken him out of my 

" Are you, indeed, the son of Talingo ? " asked a white- 
bearded old man ; " of Talingo, the daughter of Takape ? 
How can this thing be ? Her only child was a baby at the 
breast when she was drowned, and they two died together. 
I saw it ; I, Anga-tonu the 'Just One.' " 

" The true son of Talingo am I," was the reply ; " and 
he who lies there dead was my father. Hear now my 
words, ye men of Tonga, and you shall know all that has 
happened." With that he told them all. 

" It is a wonderful story," said the old man, when the 
tale was ended. " Truly, a wonderful story is that which 
our ears have heard to-day. I would welcome you after our 
manner, and say, ' Good is your sailing,' but why should I 
mock you ? You have come to a ruined land. We few, 
even we whom you see here, we are the remnant of death. 
And now the king also is gone ! You are his son, and 
should be king in his stead. But to what end ? The 
warriors are killed and eaten, and none but the women live." 


" What words are these ? " cried the son of Talingo. 
" What things, perchance, are these that you tell me ? 
Why is the town deserted ? Why are you thus hiding 
in the forest ? Where are the rest of the people ? " 

" Dead ! dead ! " sobbed the greybeard ; " they are 
all dead. Chiefs and serfs — young and old — they are all 
gone. We only remain — we and the women ; and they, 
too, are taken from us." And, lifting up their voices, 
the whole company wept with a bitter weeping. 

" It is eight months," continued Anga-tonu, when the 
weeping was over, " since destruction came to this land. 
We were living quietly in peace and plenty when there 
came, wading through the sea, a great and terrible giant. 
—Wading through the sea, he came, and seldom was it that 
^■e had to swim, for his feet trod the bottom of the ocean, 
^phile his head and shoulders were above the waves. We 
^now not whence he came ; but his face is white, and he 
speaks our language with the tongue of a stranger. We 
fought with him when he came ashore, but he laughed at 
our spears and clubs and arrows, sweeping them from him as 
you would brush a mosquito away, nor could the strongest 
among us pierce so much as his skin. And he killed our 
people, squeezing them to death with his hands, and 
crushing them beneath his cruel feet — a frightful slaughter ! 
So we fled before him ; whereupon he gathered the women 
together and took them away. He has built for himself a 
large war-fence, wherein he lives with our women, even 
our wives and our daughters, making them his slaves. 
And us he hunts through the forest, day after day, 
killing us off, one by one, and feasting upon the slain. 
Therefore are we in hiding. You see us, how few, and 


wretched, and miserable we are. We dare not go down 
to the beach to fish upon the reef, lest the giant should 
kill us. Therefore have we no food but the roots 
which we find in the woods, and even them must we 
eat raw, not daring to make a fire, lest the smoke 
should betray us. Moreover, the giant has an evil imp, 
in the shape of a white vampire-bat, that helps him, 
keeping watch and ward in the fence when he is away, 
and waking while he sleeps. At first we used to creep 
up to the fence and call the women, begging for some- 
thing to eat, but always did this evil imp discover us, 
and many were killed before they could hide themselves 
from the giant. Therefore will it be well for you to 
flee before he knows of your coming ; for, if he knows 
thereof, you will surely die. Go, therefore, back to your 
canoe, you and your two friends, and escape alive out 
of this evil land. If you will have pity on any of 
these wretched ones, take them also with you, as many 
as your canoe will hold, and save their lives. As for me, 
I am old and useless. Here will I stay. What matters 
it when I follow my lord, who lies there dead ? To-day, 
or to-morrow, or perhaps the next day ! I have followed 
him all my life, in war and in peace, by sea and by 
land ; together have we fought, together have we feasted, 
and death shall not part us. One grave will do for us 
both. He was a hard man and a cruel. But what then ? 
He was my lord, and I am his man. The words of 
Anga-tonu are spoken." 

Then was there a long silence, after which Matandua 

" This, indeed," said he, " is a lamentable tale, a tale 


of woe. Hear now my words. It is in my mind to 
fight with this giant. If I die, I die, and there is an 
end of the matter. But if I live, — how then ? Will 
you be true men to me, and give me that which falls 
to me as a right, now that my father is dead ? " 

" True men will we be," said the greybeard ; and 
" true men will we be," said they all. 

" But why should you go to your death ? " cried 
Anga-tonu. " To your death will you go, if you seek 
the giant. You now, you alone, are left of the blood of 
the chiefs. Why should you wish to die ? Sail away 
to some other land, and stay there till these evil days 
be overpast. The giant will not live for ever, and you 
can return,; with your children, to people the land, when 
he is gone. Fly while there is yet time, I beseech 
you, that the light of Tonga be not utterly quenched 
for ever. Rise up, Kalo-fanga, my son, and follow your 
lord. Be you to him what I have been to his father. 
Take his life into your hand and keep it safe. Be your 
eye his watchman, your arm his club, and your body 
his shield. And you, too, go, some of you also ; follow 
this your lord to other lands. Guard him well, and 
bring him back hither in peace, when the giant is dead, 
that he may reign in the land of his fathers. As for 
me, my day is spent, my work is done. I shall go after 
my chief, who lies there before us." 

These were the words of the Just One. Then rose 
Kalo-fanga from his seat on the grass ; and, bowing 
down before his new chief, he kissed his hand, saying, 
" Your man am I, my lord ; your true man, now and 
for ever." Others also stood up, seven and forty in all. 


and vowed to follow him whithersoever he went. But 
the old men sat still : " We will die with Anga-tonu," 
said they. 

Then out spake the young chief. With outstretched 
arm and kindling eye spake he ; his voice rang loud and 
clear, even as on the day when he faced the young men 
of Ono after that he had smitten " Big-body " to the earth. 

" I will not flee ! " he cried. " Shall the son of a 
king flee like a coward, leaving his people to perish ? 
Even the children of cowards would cry shame- upon me ! 
But why stand I here talking ? This is no time for 
many words. Come, Kalo-fanga ; lead me to the slayer 
of my people." 

And they two went together through the forest, leaving 
the others behind, with Tausere and his wife, in the 
thicket. Never a word spake the One-eyed, until the 
war-fence of the giant was in sight. Then he said to 
Kalo-fanga, " Stay you here, and watch. If the giant 
kills me, go back and report to your father ; but if I 
kill him, then will we return together in triumph to our 
friends." And he turned to go, but Kalo-fanga caught 
him by the hand and stayed him. 

" Not so, my lord ! " cried he ; " let me go with 
you. Forbid me not. It were a shame to me if you 
went alone." 

" It must be so," said the young chief in a tone of 
command, as he walked away towards the fence. " Do 
as I bid you ; stay there and wait for the end." 

" Alas ! alas ! " said Kalo-fanga, as he sank down 
beneath a big tree and wept ; " he is going to his 
death ! But, as for me, I will never return to my father. 


How could I go back and tell him that my lord died, 
and I not at hand to die with him ? " 

So the young chief went boldly on towards the fence ; 
and, entering therein, he was aware of a vampire-bat, 
large of body and white, which, with a dismal cry, 
flew out of the top of a lofty palm, and made off towards 
the sea ; whereupon the women came running out of 
the houses — a great crowd, even all the women of the 
island, whom the giant had gathered together for himself. 

Great was their wonder when they saw a stranger 
within the fence ; and they flocked round him, beseeching 
lim to escape, not even so much as asking him whence 
le came, so eager were they to get him away. 

" Fly," said one, " while there is yet time ! " 

" The giant will kill you ! " cried another. 

" The vampire-bat has told him of your coming," 
lid a third. 

" See ! There he comes ! " screamed a fourth ; and, 
with that, they all fled away, leaving him alone in the 
midst of the fence. 

Then, with angry look and hasty stride came the 
giant up from the beach (for he had been out on the 
reef fishing for turtle), and the earth shook under his 
heavy tread. 

" You have come to your death ! " roared he, as he 
sprang upon the young chief, who stood waiting quietly 
and watching him with a steady eye. Leaping nimbly 
aside as the giant rushed forward, he smote him full on 
the sinews behind his knee ; whereupon he fell flat upon 
his face, and the young chief struck him two more 
heavy blows of his club on the same spot before he 


could rise. (Now this was his weak place ; of this also 
had Talingo told her son, when she came walking over 
the waves to him as he slept.) 

With a fearful howl the giant struggled to his feet 
and rushed again upon his daring foe. But now a great 
shout was heard ; and from the wood came Kalo-fanga, 
leaping and bounding, and whirling his war-club over 
his head. 

" Here am I ! " cried he. " Here am I ! I could 
not stay, my lord ! We will die together ! " 

" His knee ! His knee ! " shouted his master. " Strike 
at his knee ! The back of his knee, Kalo-fanga ! " 

So they fought together, those three. And a sore 
fight it was — the giant roaring and howling, and rushing 
first upon one, then upon the other ; and they two ever 
dodging between his legs, but ever striking him upon 
the same spot, till at length he fell a second time ; 
whereupon they raised the shout of victory, thinking to 
make an end of him. 

But, in falling, he caught hold of a large tree, and 
brought it to the ground with him as he fell, wrenching 
it out of the earth by the roots. Then, rising, he seized 
it by the stem ; and, giving it one fierce sweep through 
the air smote them with it, before they could spring 
backwards out of his reach ; and they both fell, entangled 
amongst the branches. 

" Aha ! I have you at last ! " roared he, with a 
savage laugh. But, just as he staggered forward to clutch 
them, behold, a little green bird came flying full in his 
face, and darted her beak into his eye, whereupon he 
threw up his hands with a yell of pain ; and his two 



enemies, struggling from beneath the tree (for they were 
not hurt) came nimbly behind him, as he stamped and 
howled in his agony. Two heavy blows they struck — 
nor were more needed, for thereat he fell across the 
trunk of the tree, and after this fall he rose no more. 

" A rope ! a rope ! " cried the young chief. " Bring 
me a rope ! " And the women came rushing out of the 
houses, dragging behind them the long rope of a turtle- 
net, which their chief threw over the giant's head, in 
spite of his struggles, and then the fight was soon over ; 
for, pulling both ends of the line, they strangled him 
easily, and there was an end at last of this fearful 
monster, this slayer and devourer of men. 

Then, with a dismal screech, rose the vampire-bat 
from the tree whereon it had perched during the battle, 
and flew away seaward ; nor did it ever come back again 
to Tonga. 

Meanwhile, Anga-tonu and the rest of the people, 
with Tausere and his wife, were sitting, full of fear, in 
the thicket, their heads bowed down, each man fearing 
to look his neighbour in the face, because of the utter 
despair which he knew to be written upon his own ; 
and ever and anon a noise was heard in their midst, as 
of the breath of the north-easter on a calm night, but 
this was only their sighing. Thus they sat in mournful 
silence, waiting for the tidings of death ; when suddenly 
the wife lifted her head and listened, then started to 
her feet with a joyous cry. 

" He lives ! He lives ! " cried she. " I hear his 
voice ! " And, ringing through the forest, distant yet, 
but drawing ever nearer, now dying away, now swelling 


full and clear, there came the sound of many voices, 
singing a chant which the Tongans knew full well. 

"It is the Song of Death ! " cried the Just One. 
" He lives ! He has conquered ! " and, leaping to their 
feet, they all joined their voices in the terrible chorus, 
as the young chief and Kalo-fanga came in sight over 
the crest of the ridge, carrying the head of the giant, 
lifted high in the air, on the point of a fish-spear ; and all 
the women following them, making the woods ring with 
their song of triumph ; while, over all, hung a thick 
cloud of smoke, rolling upwards from the burning town, 
which they had set on fire, after piling the stakes of 
the war-fence on and around the body of the dead giant 
so that it might therewith be consumed. 

And thus was Tonga delivered from this dreadful 
scourge, which the anger of the gods had brought upon it. 

On that same day they went back to the empty 
town, and began to repair the houses, working hard, 
day and night, till all was finished. And, then, with 
joyful ceremonies, they made the young chief King of 
Tonga, in the place of his father, who now lay buried 
on the brow of a hill that looked out over the sea. 

So he began his reign, having taken Tauki, the 
Merry One, the fairest maiden of the land, to wife, 
and soon the great house had children rolling upon the 
mats. Only one wife did he take — her and no other. 
And when his foster-mother said to him, "You should 
take more wives, my lord, that you may get your ' tapa ' 
cloth made," he only shook his head and smiled. 

" ' Tapa ' is good, but peace and quietness are better," 
quoth he. 



I'ajic iz8. 



Many children also, sons of the giant, were born of 
the women. These grew to be mighty men, and pillars 
of the land ; and, before many years were over, the town 
was too small for its people ; wherefore they divided into 
three bands, building two other towns, even Mua and 

But, long before this came to pass, the men of Vavau, 
and Haapai, and other islands, having heard that the 
giant was dead, were of one mind to lay aside their 
feuds with one another, and enter into a league together 
to make war upon Tonga-tabu, in revenge for all the 
slaughter which its warriors had made among them in 
days gone by. 

" There is but a small remnant," said they ; " it will 
be easy work." 

Then was there great fear in Tonga-tabu, and many 
were for making a peace-offering, and bowing themselves 
beneath the yoke of the foreigners. But the King utterly 
scorned their counsel, vowing that his club should crush 
the skull of him, whosoever he might be, who should 
thenceforth so much as speak of surrender : thus he 
encouraged his people. 

And, when the enemy landed, he fell upon their rear, 
as they went carelessly, and in straggling parties, towards 
the town (for they did not dream that he with his 
few would dare to come out against their vast multitude). 
Whereupon, some of the hindermost being slain, there 
rose a great cry ; and a sudden panic fell upon all that 
mighty host, so that their hearts became as water ; and, 
throwing down their arms, they fled hither and thither, 
and were slain on every side, even the women sallying 



forth out of the town, killing every one her man. 
Many fled to the canoes, but the King had secured them, 
dragging them up, high and dry, upon the beach ; 
wherefore, their retreat being cut off, they sat down in 
despair, giving themselves to death. 

But the King stopped the slaughter ; for, said he, 
" great is the use of living men throughout all the 
years of their life, but what is the good of the dead ? 
They fall, and are eaten ; and there is an end of their 
usefulness. Slay no more." So the work of death was 

And he sent those who remained alive back to their 
own lands, keeping only such as stayed of their own 
accord ; and he appointed a yearly tribute to be brought 
from every land. 

Some of them rebelled against him in the following 
year, and strengthened themselves, fencing in their towns, 
and refusing to bring the tribute. Against these he led 
his warriors, and smote them with a dreadful slaughter, 
levelling their war-fences, and burning their towns. But, 
to the obedient, he was ever a just and wise ruler, neither 
oppressing them himself, nor suffering others to oppress 
them, so that even his enemies became his friends ; and 
all the islands were brought under his sway ; for he won 
them twice — once by the strength of his arm, and once, 
again, by the wisdom of his counsel. 

As for the King's foster-parents, they lived to a good 
old age, loved and honoured by the King, who was ever 
an obedient son to them. And, when they died, he buried 
them in the tombs of the chiefs, mourning for them 
with all his people. 


Old Anga-tonu, also, lived for many years after the 
slaying of the giant ; having, on that day of gladness, 
utterly abandoned his resolve to follow the old King, his 
master. He grew to be as blind and helpless as Latui 
(the Vavauan who drifted to Ono), but his mind was 
clear to the last ; and he never wearied of telling to the 
young people the deeds of the olden days. But, of all 
his tales, that wherein his soul most delighted was the 
"Story of Matandua, the One-eyed," which grew longer 
and more wondrous every time that he repeated it. 

So the King prospered exceedingly. And the root of 
his great success in all his undertakings was the advice 
which Talingo continued to give him ; for very often 
did she come to him in his sleep, warning him of coming 
danger, and advising him how to act in every weighty 

Moreover, Kalo-fanga was ever with him, by day and 
night, at home or abroad, in peace or war, by sea or 
land. Well did he redeem his pledge, which he gave 
on the day when he bowed down before him, and kissed 
his hand, saying, " Your man am I, my lord : your true 
man am I for ever." 

And strictly did he obey the words of his father, who, 
when he gave him to be the King's man, had commanded 
him saying — 

" Take his life into your hand, and keep it safe. Be 
your eye his watchman, your arm his club, and your body 
his shield." Well did Kalo-fanga observe this command. 

Now, when many years had passed away, and the 
King's children had grown up around him into fine 
young men and women, a great longing came over him 


to sail once more to Fiji, and visit the grave of his 
mother. So, having called together the chiefs, he told 
them of his purpose, and appointed his eldest son to 
rule in his stead, until he should return. Then, taking 
Kalo-fanga, and a chosen band of warriors with him, he 
hoisted his sail, steering for Ono. 

There he found the younger son of the lord of Ono 
reigning over the land ; for Big-body had long since 
died of the old wound in his knee, which had broken 
out afresh, and festered, and mortified ; so that he died 
in great torment. Three months did the Tongans stay 
at Ono, living in peace with the people ; -with whom 
also they made a friendly league, which is kept even to 
this day. Thence they sailed away to other islands, 
until at length they came to Nairai ; and here the King 
told his men to see to the fastenings of the canoe, for 
that it was now his mind to go back to Tonga : but 
the mind of the gods was otherwise, and back to Tonga 
never more went he. 

No man slew him : no accident befell him : nor did 
he fall sick of any evil disease : but thus it was. When 
all things were ready for sailing, then for the last time 
came Talingo to him in the night, as he lay sleeping in 
the great house at Natautoa, the chief town of Nairai. 
Ever before, when she came, had she gazed upon himi 
with sad eyes ; but now was she light and cheery of i 
look, as she stood, beckoning to him with her hand, buti 
speaking never a word. 

And Kalo-fanga, waking with a start, heard the King 
saying in a low tone and faint, " Good-bye, Kalo-fanga. 
I am going. Talingo beckons me away." 



■■.■ ..A 


Paiic 133. 




" My lord is talking in his sleep," he replied. 

► But, when he woke in the morning, the King was 
ying at his side, cold and dead ; and there was a happy 
mile upon his face. 
They would not bury him in the foreign land, but 
laid him lovingly in the hold of the canoe, carrying sand 
on board to cover him withal, that they might take him 
back to his own country. Kalo-fanga held his head, as, 
with bitter wailing, they bore him down to the canoe ; 
and, when they laid him in the hold, he stooped down 
to kiss, once more, the hand of his lord, his tears falling, 
like rain, on the face of the dead ; and, sinking down by 
his side, without a groan or a struggle, the spirit of this 
true-hearted warrior departed, following hard after him 
whom he had loved so well, and overtaking him even 
on the road to Bulu, the Land of Spirits. 

So they covered them both with the sand which had 
been brought on board ; and, hoisting their sail, they 
steered for Tonga, before a strong breeze, which carried 
them thither on the third day. And there they buried 
the King in the tomb of his father, with Kalo-fanga lying 
at his feet. 

Thus, without pain or sickness, died Matandua, the 
best of kings — brave in war, wise in peace, terrible to 
his enemies, faithful to his friends, and kind and gentle 
and loving to all. 


'nr^HERE is no people on the face of the earth so great 
-*■ and noble as are we, the people of Tonga. Other 
nations may be more numerous and richer, and perhaps even 
stronger than we ; but with us is the root of greatness, 
and with us alone. From our stock has sprung the race 
of warriors — men whose names are known — some whose 
mighty deeds have been done among our own people, 
and others who have lived and fought among foreign 

Thus, Napoleoni was a son of Tonga ; for his mother 
came to us in a ship from the land of Merikei (America), 
which stayed with us for many days hunting whales. She 
was a young woman, tall and fair ; and after a while, 
she sailed again to her own land, where she brought forth 
a child, though no man had her to wife, and this child 
she called Napoleoni. 

Now, after many days, when he was grown, the men 
of Faranise (France) sent ambassadors to Merikei, begging 
for help against Uelingtoni, who had beaten them in many 
battles, killing their king, and all the sons of the chiefs. 
For the high-priest had told them that there they would 



find the child of a red father who would lead them against 
their enemies, and before whose face no man should be 
able to stand. So they came sailing over the waters to 
Merikei in search of him who should lead them to victory; 
and a weary search they had, for the people mocked 
them as they went from town to town asking for the 
son of a red father. The boys also followed them, crying 
aloud, " We are the sons of red fathers. Take us, that 
we may gain you the victory." In one town, the name 
of which we have not been told, the young men deceived 
them shamefully, promising to lead them to the deliverer 
of their people. And their souls rejoiced. 

" Good is our coming," they said to one another. 
" Good is our coming, for here our troubles end. Woe 
now to Uelingtoni ! " 

"True!" said the young men; "your troubles are 
over, and woe to Uelingtoni. But come now, why do 
we linger here ? " And, leading them through the gate- 
way in the war-fence at the back of the town, and across 
the moat, they took them to a house in the forest where 
a farmer lived — for you must know that in Merikei the 
husbandmen are not permitted to dwell within the town 
— and there they showed the men of Faranise a calf! 
" Here now," they said, " is he whom you seek, for his 
father is red." 

The men of Faranise turned, and went sorrowfully 
on their way, while the mocking laughter of the cruel 
youths sounded in their ears. But towards evening they 
came to a little house, standing by itself in the midst 
of the wood ; and in this house dwelt the mother of 


" Let us ask here also," said the chief man among 
them. " It may be that we shall yet find him ; for surely 
the high-priest could not have lied to us, and his words 
were that we should find our deliverer in this land. There- 
fore let us ask here also." 

So they made their inquiry ; and the mother of 
Napoleoni cried aloud in wonder when she heard their 
words. " Who then are you ? " she cried. " Who told 
you that the father of my son is red ? " 

" We are chiefs," they replied. " From the land of 
Faranise we come. We are seeking the child of a red 
father, who is to save us from our enemy Uelingtoni, and 
revenge all the evils he has brought upon our people. We 
were sent by our great priest, who told us that here we 
should find the deliverer of our people, the son of a man 
whose skin is red." 

The woman stood gasping with wonder. " Truly 
the gods have sent you," she cried. " I have a son whose 
father is a chief in Tonga. But this my son — he who is 
sitting there on the mat — he is dumb. How then can he 
be the leader of your people ? " 

Never before had Napoleoni spoken ; he had been dumb 
from the day of his birth ; but now he rose and spake, for 
his time was come. Tall and strong — taller than the 
tallest of the strangers — he rose from the floor-mat on which 
he had been sitting. 

" I am he whom you seek," he said. " Come ! Let 
us go to your canoe and sail, that I may lead you to victory. 
Farewell, my mother ! Be of good cheer, for I shall 
come again in triumph, when I have smitten the enemy 
of these our friends. Or if I come not again, I will 


send for you to the land where it shall please me to 

" Farewell, my son," said his mother, following him to 
the door, and plucking a flower that grew near by. " Go, 
and may the gods be your helpers ! Take this flower ; 
and when you look upon it, think then of your father and 
of me." 

The flower which she gave him was red. 

So he led the men of Faranise. I could tell you of 
his mighty deeds — how he smote the enemies of Faranise, 
though they were many and strong ; how he chased 
Uelingtoni from land to land, till he caught him at 
Uatalu, and banished him to a desert island, where he 

Of all these things I could tell you ; but to what end ? 
All the world knows them. But of his birth only, and 
his going to Faranise, have I told you, because the men of 
Faranise hide the truth, giving out that he was truly one of 
themselves, born in an island, the dwelling-place of their 
royal clan. This lie they tell, envying us, the people of 
Tonga, because of our greatness. The men of Merikei 
also claim him, because they have red-skinned men among 
them ; but the truth is that which I have told you here 
to-day. I am Vave of Kolonga. 



'TP^HIS is the account of how men came upon the earth, 
■^ and of how they became subject to decay and death. 

In the beginning there was no land, save that on 
which the gods lived ; no dry land was there for men 
to dwell upon ; all was sea ; the sky covered it above, 
and bounded it on every side. There was neither day 
nor night ; but a mild light shone continually through 
the sky upon the waters, like the shining of the moon 
when its face is hidden by a white cloud. Thus it was 
in the beginning. 

The gods dwelt in Bulotu ; but we cannot tell where 
that island is, though some say that the words which 
have come down from our fathers declare it to be where 
the sky meets the waters in the climbing-path of the 
sun. Here dwelt the gods, Maui, the greatest of them 
all, with his two sons' and his brothers.* 

There are many others — a countless host — some small, 
and some great, but gods all. The gods whose names 
I have told you are the rulers ; all the others are under 
subjection to them, gods though they too be. 

A fine land is Bulotu, and happy are its people ; for 

^ Ata-longa and Kiji-kiji. 

* Tanga-Ioa, Hemoana-uli-uli, and Hiku-Ieo. 



there, close to the house of Hiku-leo, is Vai-ola/ the 
Water of Life, which the gods drink every day. Oh 
that we had it here on earth, for it will heal all manner 
of sickness ! Moreover, near the brink of the fountain 
stands Akau-lea, that wondrous tree, the Tree of Speech, 
under whose shadow the gods sit down to drink kava^ 
the tree acting as master of the ceremonies, and calling 
out the name of him to whom the bowl shall be carried. 


Here once upon a time they sat drinking kava ; and 
after the bowl had gone round the circle, then outspake 
Maui, the king of them all — 

" I am weary, ye gods," he cried. " I am weary of 
this life of ours. We eat, and drink, and sleep, and do 
nothing. My soul is stirred within me. Let my canoe 
float. Drag it down to the water, and let the crew get 
ready for sailing." 

" Whither are you going ? " Hiku-leo asked in a 
mocking tone ; for a saucy god was he ; angry too, and 
evil of soul. " What will you do ? What do you want ? 
This is a fool's business truly." And he laughed a 
scornful laugh. 

" Stay you behind, Hiku-leo," answered Maul. " We 
know you of old, how peevish are your ways. When 
was a word ever spoken by others to which you said, 
' It is good ' ? Stay therefore at home, and watch lest 
any of the boys should steal your tail." For Hiku-leo 

1 Vai-ola. This " Living Water " tradition is far older than the coming of the 
missionaries. (See Preface.) 


was known among the gods by his tail, which had eyes 
in it, he alone of them all being thus adorned. And 
when Maui had spoken, there was a chorus of smothered 
laughter, which none could help ; only they were afraid 
to laugh aloud, because they feared Hiku-leo. But the 
Tailed One shook with rage ; fierce was his anger. 

" Go then ! " he cried, " and may evil go with you ! 
May you never return ! May the waters swallow you 
up ! May the fogs hide the land from your eyes ! 
May you find it no more, but wander for ever to and 
fro on the face of the sea ! Go quickly, fools that you 
are, hateful to my eyes ! As for me, I shall stay be- 
hind, and reign here in Bulotu, for you will return no 
^ Then, with a loud shout of fierce anger, the two sons 
^^■f Maui leaped to their feet ; but before they could 
^^■Biy a word, there was a rustle and a stir among the 
leaves of the Tree of Speech, as if a sudden blast were 
sweeping through its branches ; and all the gods kept 

t'lence, for they knew it was going to speak, 
" Hear my words, Maui," it said. " Hear my words, 
[iku-leo, and gods all. Go not ! Evil will come to 
ass if you go — an evil so great and terrible, that you 
3uld not understand if I were to tell you what it is. 
I pray you not to go." 

" Let it come ! " cried Maui, for his spirit was roused. 
" Let those who are afraid stay with Hiku-leo. Come, 
my sons, both of you. And are not both of you also 
coming, O my brothers ? " 

" We are going," they answered with a shout ; 
and all the other gods clapped their hands, and cried. 


" Good is the sailing ! " Then Hiku-leo rose with an 
angry growl, and went on his way snarling. 

So the gods ran down to the beach, and dragged the 
great double canoe into the water. But when the two 
brothers of the god Maui were going on board, Maui 
drew them aside. " Look you, my brothers," he said, " it 
will be well for you to stay behind and watch that evil 
one, lest he do mischief while we are away. I will take 
the two lads and a full crew. Why should I take more ? 
They would only burden the canoe. Do you keep the 
rest together, and have a care of Hiku-leo. What if he 
should cut down the Tree of Speech, or defile the Water 
of Life ! There is nothing too evil for him when he is 
in one of his raging moods." 

" Good are your words," the two gods replied. " Go 
you then with the lads. As for us, we will stay here and 
watch. Go in peace and fear not ; we shall not sleep." 

So the King went on board with his two sons and a 
picked crew, whom he chose from among the Bulotu folk, 
all of whom were eager to go ; and, hoisting the sail, they 
stood out to sea before a fresh breeze that was blowing 
over the waters. For a long time they ran before the 
wind ; for how long we cannot tell ; but we know that 
they must have gone far, very far, from Bulotu ; because 
many of our heroes have sailed far and wide in search of 
it, but none have been able to find it, as they would have 
done if it had not been so far away, unless indeed some of 
those whom we mourned as lost at sea may perhaps have 
escaped thither alive, and returned to us no more. But 
however this may be, when the gods had sailed over a very 
great stretch of water, Maui ordered the sail to be lowered. 



The crew sprang willingly to the work, for they had never 
been so far away from Bulotu before, and fear was growing 
upon them. The sail was soon lowered upon the deck, 
and made fast. Then Maui came down from his seat on 
the top of the deck-house, holding in his hand an enormous 
fish-hook, which he threw far away from him into the sea, 
paying out the line as the hook sank, and the gods looked 
on in wonder. 

" Have we come all this way to fish ? " cried Ata-longa. 
" Are there no fish in the waters of Bulotu that we must 
sail thus far over the sea to catch them ? What is the 
meaning of this, my father ? " 

" Wait and see," answered Maui. " Know this, more- 
over, my son, that it is not seemly for youths to question 
r doing of their elders." 
" But so foolish a thing as this ! " cried Ata-longa 
" Silence ! " interrupted his father. " How do you 
know that it is foolish ? You have been too much with 
that little-father ^ of yours, Hiku-leo, and it will be well for 
you to curb your tongue, lest I have to teach you that I 

am your king as well as . Ha ! Here it is ! I have 

it ! Come hither, all of you. Quick ! Haul on the 
line ! Haul steadily, lest it break ! " And, pulling on the 
line, they were aware of something very heavy that the 
hook had caught. " Truly a monster of a fish is here ! " 
said one, as they tugged and strained. " What can it be ? " 
cried another. " It is no fish, for it makes no struggle," 
said a third. But then the waters rose bubbling and foam- 
ing around the canoe, and smoke came from them with 
a thunderous rumble and roar, and the gods cried out in 

1 Uncle. 


deadly fear. But Maui cheered them on. " Haul away, 
my lads ! " he cried. " You shall take no harm. Put your 
strength on the rope, my children, and we shall soon see 
what it is." 

So they pulled and hauled with all their might, and 
presently the sea grew dark ; and, looking down, they 
saw, as it were, a great black shadow beneath the waves. 
" What is this, Maui ? " they cried. " We are afraid," 
and some of them ran away from the rope, and crouched 
down and hid their faces. 

" Fear not ! " shouted Maui, seizing the rope with both 
hands, and hauling lustily upon it. " Fear not ! Come 
back, little-livered cowards that you are ! There is nothing 
to be afraid of." 

Then the gods shouted, pulling with a mighty will ; 
and from the midst of the waters rose a land, mountain 
after mountain, till there were seven mountains in all, with 
valleys between, and flat lands lying at their feet. 

" Here is something worth sailing for," cried Maui. 
"This is better than staying at home in Bulotu and 
drinking kava. What about its foolishness now, my 
sons ? What do you think of it ? " 

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" they rephed. "True 
are your words, my father. Here indeed is something 
worth sailing for. But is there not one little thing that 
might perhaps be mended. Those seven hills, are they 
not too high ? I, for one, should not like to have to 
climb them." 

"Is that all? "said Maui. "That is easily mended." 
And, leaping ashore, he sprang to the top of the highest 
mountain, and stamped upon it with his feet. And, as 


he stamped, the earth shook, and the mountain crumbled 
away beneath his feet, and rolled down into the valleys 
below, till they were filled up to the level on which he 
stood. This he did to four of the seven hills, leaving the 
other three untrodden, for he grew weary of the work. 
Now this land was Ata, the first land that Maui fished 
up from the depths of the sea. 

Thence they sailed away again, and Maui threw out 
his hook once more, and raised this land of Tonga above 
the waves. Here he trod all the hills down into rich and 
fertile plains ; on which, even as he trod, there sprang up 
grass and flowers and trees, while the earth swelled into 
hillocks round his feet, bursting with yams, and sweet 
potatoes, and all manner of food, so that the gods shouted 
aloud for joy. 

Next he fished up Haabai and Vavau and Niua and 
the other islands near them ; but whether he raised Samoa 
and Fiji at this time, or after his return to Bulotu, is not 
clear to us ; for herein the words of our fathers do not 
agree. Some say one thing, and some another. There are 
some indeed who declare that it was Tanga-loa who 
brought Papa-langi (Whitemansland) to the surface, but 
we cannot tell whether it was so or not. One thing only 
is certain, that it was Maui who fished up Tonga from 
the bottom of the sea. 

After a long stay in this fruitful land, Maui and his 
crew sailed back in great glee to Bulotu, where he 
triumphed over Hiku-leo to his heart's content, making 
him tenfold more spiteful than he was before. But, when 
the gods met together round the Water of Life to hear the 
report of the voyage, Akau-lea gave forth the most pitiful 


sighs and groans, such as had never before been heard in 
Bulotu, so that Maui had no heart to tell his tale. The 
kava was drunk in silence, and they went to their homes 
with heavy hearts, fearing they knew not what of 


Now Ata-longa's soul was very sore because of his 
father's words, which had put him to silence and shame 
before all the younger gods who had sailed with them. 
Great was his shame, great was his anger, and his soul grew 
ever darker and more evil towards Maui, as he thought 
upon his words on that day. At last he hatched a scheme 
by which he could at once vex his father and escape from 
under his control. He gathered together a number of the 
younger gods, his companions, and spoke to them of the 
tyranny of Maui ; how they were checked and curbed by 
him, and how much better it would be for them to flee 
away, and to live in peace and plenty in the new land, 
where they would be free from the continual interference 
of tyrannical elders. 

" This we could not have done aforetime," he went on 
to say ; " but now it is easy enough. Maui himself has 
made it easy, for he has fished up a beautiful land from 
the bottom of the sea. And if you would know what 
manner of land that is — those of you who stayed behind 
when we went sailing — ask any one of the crew. It is 
a land of plenty ; no evil is there, and nothing good is 
wanting. Why then should we stay here in Bulotu, to be 
for ever snubbed by our elders ? Are we not gods as well 


as they ? Let us go — let us go to the new land, and leave 
Bulotu to the stay-at-homes." 

Then followed a long silence, and Ata-longa's hearers 
looked inquiringly at one another. They were all minded 
to follow him ; but no one cared to be the first to speak. 

" It is my mind to go," said one of them at length, 
Fifita by name. "True are the words we have heard about 
the goodness of the new country. I saw it with my own 
eyes. Happy should we be if we were there. But how 
then are we to go ? " 

" How are we to go ! " cried the son of Maui. " That 
truly is a small thing. Is there not my father's canoe ? 
What should hinder us from taking it when he is sleeping 
heavily after the kava drinking ? There is no difficulty if 
we only hold our tongues, and say nothing about it to the 
women and children till it is time to go on board with a 
rush. Get you the canoe ready for launching, with all its 
fittings, and I will see that Maui will not wake to-morrow 
till the sun is high over the land. We will sail to-night." 

So they bound themselves by an oath to silence and 
secrecy, and went to their homes to make ready for the 
flight. But Ata-longa went to his plantation, and dug up 
the largest root of kava he could find ; and when he had 
washed it, he took it to Maui, presenting it with great 
humility, and with much respect. 

" Be not angry with me, my lord," he said, " because 
of my foolish words when you were fishing up Ata. My 
soul is very sore because of my offending ; therefore have I 
brought this root of kava to be my offering of atonement, 
that my wrongdoing may be buried, and that you may 
remember it no more." 


" Why should you bring me an offering, my son ? " 
Maui replied. " Am I not your father ? Is it then so 
hard a matter to forgive the hasty word of a youth ? I 
take the kava, not as a peace-offering, but as the love-gift 
of my son. Truly a fine root ! Come, let us drink ! 
Call my brothers and Kiji-kiji, and let some of your people 
sit down and chew it." 

" Nay, my lord," said Ata-longa. " If you are indeed 
of a good mind towards me, drink you the kava^ and you 
only, for you only have I offended." m 

" Chew then," said Maui, " and let it be as you say." " 

So Ata-longa's young men whom he had brought with 
him to carry the big root, and to wait upon him, cut up 
the root, and chewed it, and when it was watered and 
strained, Ata-longa passed the drink to his father, cup after 
cup, till the kava bowl was empty. And when Maui had 
drunk it all up to the dregs, he lay down, and sank into a 
deep sleep ; whereupon the deceitful youth hastened to the 
beach ; and when it was dark, he and some of his followers 
dragged the canoe down to the water and poled her over 
the shallows to a place where the rest of the plotters were 
in hiding with their wives and their little ones, some two 
hundred in all. These were hurried on board, the sail was 
hoisted in silence with all speed, the great canoe moved 
swiftly over the waters, and none of the gods in Bulotu saw 
the fugitives as they sailed away. Alas ! alas ! for the 
Beginning of Death ! 

Maui slept heavily for many hours. He had drunk so 
much kava that the day had risen over the land long before 
he awoke, and not till he had been astir for several hours 
did any one observe that the canoe-house was empty ; for 


Bulotu is a sleepy land, a land of rest, and its people are 
not for ever astir, as are we dwellers on the earth. But at 
length a messenger came to the great house reporting that 
the canoe was gone, and that Hiku-leo, with Ata-longa 
and many others, was missing. 


Now, Hiku-leo had been so enraged by the mocking 
words of Maui that he could not endure to stay near him ; 
so he had gone far away into the forest, where he hid him- 
self in a cave ; and there, bursting with spite, he remained 
for many days. So when Maui heard that he was absent, 
what should he think but that it was he who had taken 
the canoe ? 

" Aha ! " said he to Tanga-loa, who was with him when 
the messenger came, " Hiku-leo has gone fishing, has he ? 
Good be his sailing ! Let us wait, and see what sort of fish 
he will catch. But is Ata-longa gone with him ? " 

" He also is gone, my lord," the messenger replied. 
" He and many more." 

" That is bad, Tanga-loa," said Maui, when the 
messenger had departed. " The lad is always with 
Hiku-leo, and nothing but evil will he learn from him." 

" It is true, my brother," said Tanga-loa ; " but this 
thing, after all, is no great matter. Is it to be wondered 
at that he should be eager for a sail ? He is but a boy, 
you know. However, it will be well for us to scold him 
when he comes back, and to warn him against that evil- 
souled brother of ours." And so the matter dropped. 

But after another long while, one day, as the gods were 


sitting under the shade of the Tree of Speech, drinking 
kava as their manner was, who should step into the ring 
but Hiku-leo himself! Sulkily, and without a word of 
greeting, he stepped within the ring, and sat down on the 
grass in his accustomed place. The gods looked behind 
him, expecting to see Ata-longa and the others ; but he 
was alone. 

" The lads are ashamed to come," whispered Maui to 
his two brothers, who were sitting with him. " They have 
had no luck. Good is your sailing, Hiku-leo ! Good is 
your sailing ; but where are the lads ? " 

" Have done with your fooling ! " growled Hiku-leo, 
his tail wagging angrily behind him. " Do you think you 
have a right to be for ever mocking me, because you went 
fishing and hooked up a bit of dirt ? Let there be an end 
of it, for I will suffer it no longer." 

" Mocking you ! " cried Maui. " I am not mocking 
you. Where have you been? Where is Ata-longa?, 
Where are the lads ? And where is the canoe ? " 

" What do you mean ? " snarled Hiku-leo. " What do 
I know about Ata-longa and his following of fools ? And 
what do I know about your canoe ? Am I your slave that 
you should ask me ? Where is your canoe, indeed 1 Ask 
your slaves." 

" Look you, Hiku-leo ! " cried Tanga-loa in a rage, 
" we have had enough of your evil ways." And, springing 
nimbly behind him, he seized his tail, and twisted it till the 
surly god bellowed with pain. " Where is Ata-longa ? " 
cried Tanga-loa, keeping ever behind him, as he writhed, 
and spun round and round. " Where is the canoe ? Where 
have you been ? What have you been doing ? " And at 


every question he gave the tail a fresh twist, till it was 
curled closely up into a hard lump. 

" Are you mad ? " roared Hiku-leo, kicking viciously. 
" Let me go, Tanga-loa ! You wretch, let me go ! " 

" Not till you answer," said Tanga-loa, keeping a firm 
hold of the tail. 

" I know nothing about them," yelled the miserable god 
in his agony. " Oh, wretch that you are ! Let me go, I 
say ! Wah-h-h ! Make him let go, Maui ! Help, 
brother of Maui ! Help, ye gods ! I never saw them. 
I've been in the forest all by myself. Ah-h-h ! I swear it ! 
True are my words ! Have mercy, Tanga-loa ! " 

" Let him go, Tanga-loa ! " said Maui. " Let him go ! 
It is enough. There ! Sit down, Hiku-leo. Sit down, 
and let us talk the matter over." 

" Sit down, indeed ! " cried Hiku-leo, foaming with 
rage as he rubbed himself. " How can I sit down ? No, 
Tanga-loa ! Be quiet ! I will sit." — For Tanga-loa had 
moved as if about to make another spring for his tail. — 
" What is it all about, my lord ? What wrong have I 
done ? " 

" What wrong ? " cried Maui. " Is it no wrong to 
take the canoe without asking me ? and Ata-longa ? and 
all the crew ? " 

" None of this have I done," Hiku-leo declared with 
great earnestness. " If they are gone, and the canoe, I 
have had no part therein. I hear of it now for the first 
time. Ever since your coming back from the sailing I 
have been in the forest. I fled thither from your jeering 

" Is this true, Hiku-leo ? " Maui asked. 


" It is indeed true. I swear it. Why should I lie to 
you ? " was the reply. 

" Where then is Ata-longa ? " asked the King in great 
perplexity. And all the gods were silent, each looking in 
wonder upon his neighbour's face. 

Then a deep groan from the Tree of Speech broke in 
upon the silence, and a wailing sound was heard among its 
branches, whence a sprinkling, as of rain, fell down upon 
the surface of the Water of Life, like the falling of many 

" It has come," said a mournful voice. " The evil, of 
which I warned you, has come ! Why did you go, Maui ? 
Why did you go ? " 

" What is it, O Tree of Speech ? " cried Maui in a 
startled tone. " What is this great evil ? For that a great 
evil has befallen us I feel within my soul, though I know 
not what it is." 

" They are gone ! " said the Tree with a groan. 
"Ata-longa has taken them away to the new land. They 
are gone, never to return. Alas ! alas ! for the folly of 
the disobedient ones. Evil is now their lot — hunger and 
thirst — trouble and sorrow — sickness and Death ! " 

At this dreadful word the voice of the Tree ceased, 
and an awful silence fell upon the host — a silence of dread 
— broken only by the low moan of wailing among the 
branches, and by the falling as of tear-drops into the Water 
of Life. And a shudder ran round the circle of gods, with 
the sound of a deep-drawn breath ; nor did any one ask the 
meaning of the word, for they felt its meaning within their 
hearts, though they had never heard it before. 

Then a chill blast came sweeping through the branches^ 


mingling a sound of sobbing and sighing with the wailing 
moan ; and many of the leaves, evergreen heretofore, faded, 
and withered, and fell, scattered hither and thither by the 
sudden blast. And the gods, looking up in awestruck 
wonder — for never before had such a thing been known — 
saw that the branch, from which the leaves had fallen, was 
sapless and dead. And, even as they looked, a dismal groan 
sounded from the midst of the Tree, and the branch dropped 
into the Water of Life, breaking into three pieces, two 
large and one small, as it fell. Then the fearful gods 
beheld a wondrous thing ; for, as the pieces sank down into 
the waters, they took the form of three canoes, two large 
and one small ; so sank they slowly down till they were 
lost in the depths. Then with a heavy sigh rose Maui 
and the rest of the gods, and in mournful silence they went 
to their homes. 


Merrily over the waters went Ata-longa in the stolen 
canoe with his crew of runaways. Merrily sailed they 
over the waters ; the son of Maui, and those who had been 
with him on the former voyage, telling of all the wonders 
they had seen, and they who had stayed at home listened 
with greedy ears. Pleasant was the breeze, and swiftly 
glided the canoe over the laughing waves, till Tonga rose 
out of the waters in their course ; and they soon reached 
the shore, shouting aloud at the beautiful prospect before 
them ; for of all lands under the heavens this Tonga of 
ours is the loveliest and the best, even as we, its people, are 
foremost among the sons of men. 


The gods were full of joy, and made the whole island 
ring with their merry laughter and shouts of glee, as they 
rambled about in companies, and found new beauties to 
admire, or more and more abundant food supplies, ripe and 
ready to their hands, yams and breadfruit, and coconuts in 
all stages of growth, with shoals of fish leaping out of the 
water here and there. The women sat on the seashore 
watching the children as they gambolled along the sands, 
some of them rushing into the water and spearing fish with 
their little spears. Fires were soon lit, food was baked, and 
all were full of delight. " This is a better land than that 
we have left," they said. " Here will we stay. Never 
more will we return to Bulotu." Little did they think 
what a fearful truth lay in those gladsome words ! 

They took the big canoe to pieces, and made out of it 
eight smaller ones, with which they explored the coast, 
fishing as they went, and catching good fish, more than 
they could eat. Thus they lived happily for a long while ; 
but at length there came upon them a terrible woe, 
changing their joy and gladness into deadly fear and deep 
anguish of soul. 

Thus it came about. The fine young god, Fifita, of 
whom you have heard before, was a great friend of Ata- 
longa's, and came with him as a matter of course ; he and 
his wife Moa, and their little girl, their only child. A 
loving couple were they, and dearly they loved their little 
one, the darling of their hearts. So it fell upon a day that 
Fifita, coming home from the fishing, wondered that his 
wife and his little daughter had not come down to the sea- 
shore to welcome him according to their wont ; for they 
were always waiting on the beach when he came back. 


looking out for him. And, when he landed, the little girl 
would run to meet him with glad cries of " Father ! my 
father ! " that he might lift her in his arms, and kiss her, 
and carry her on his shoulders up to the house ; while she 
would pull his hair and his beard, shouting aloud for joy, 
and laughing at her mother, who walked smiling behind 
them, with the fish-basket on her back. Therefore Fifita 
wondered greatly because they were absent ; and leaping 
ashore, he went hastily up to the house, where he found 
his wife stretched upon the mats, with the child lying 
beside her. 

" Ah, lazy ones ! " he cried. " Must you then be 
always sleeping, that you cannot welcome me home from 
the fishing ? " 

Languidly then his wife looked up at the sound of his 
voice ; and Fifita saw that her eyes were dim — those eyes 
that were wont to sparkle so merrily. 

" What is wrong with you, Moa ? " he cried in sudden 
terror. " What ails you ? Why are your eyes so dim ? " 

" I know not," she replied in a low tone and faint. 
" I know not what has befallen me, but it is not with me 
as it was. Come nearer, and let me take you by the hand 
while I speak. Give me your hand ; sit down here beside 
me ; nearer still ; for strange are the thoughts I find within 
my soul. It is to me as if I were drifting away on a strong 
current ; but whither I know not, nor why. What is it, 
my husband ? Are you also going, or do you remain 
behind ? " 

" What words are these ? " cried Fifita. " Why do you 
speak thus ? Surely you have been dreaming, and are not 
yet fully awake ? " 


" It is no dream," she replied, " for I have not been 
sleeping. We two went together down to the beach to 
wait for your return as our manner is, and I sat on the 
grass while our little one played with the other children to 
and fro on the sand. As I sat watching her, she suddenly 
stopped in her play ; and shading her eyes with her hand, 
she looked out seaward. Then she ran to me ; and climb- 
ing on my lap, she threw her arms round my neck, crying, 
" Ah, the canoe ! the little canoe ! Clasp me in your arms, 
for I am cold. Oh mother ! Oh my dear mother ! " And 
holding her tight in my arms, I felt that she was intensely 
cold ; so I rose, and carried her up to the house, for she 
had fallen asleep upon my breast. She has been sleeping 
ever since ; and I too, I would fain sleep, for I am weary. 
What is it, my husband ? What can it be ? And what is 
this chill which I feel creeping upwards to my heart ? 
Come nearer to me, for it is growing dark, and I cannot 
see your face." 

Her voice grew ever fainter as she spoke, till it died 
away in a low whisper ; and Fifita sat by her side, holding 
her hand, with a sickening terror at his heart. Then, 
suddenly, she started, and raised her head. " What is 
this ? " she cried in a full-toned voice. " How can this be ? 
Is not this my child that I hold in my arms ? How then 
do I see her yonder sitting on that little canoe .? She 
smiles, Fifita, and beckons me away. There also is another 
canoe, larger than hers. Ah ! I see it now ! I am going. 
Farewell, my husband ! I must leave you. I come, my 
child, I come ! " Then, with a long-drawn sigh, her 
head sank again upon the mats, her eyes closed, and she 
was still. 


Fifita sprang to his feet with a cry of horror. " Wake, 
Moa, wake ! " he cried, shaking her violently by the hand. 
" Sleep not thus, my wife ! Open your eyes, and look 
upon me ! " But she heard him not. 

Startled by his frantic cries, all the gods came running 
together to his house. " What is the matter, Fifita ? " 
asked the foremost. " What has befallen you, that you are 
crying thus ? " 

" My wife ! My wife, and my child also ! Look at 
them ! Wake, Moa, wake ! " he cried, shaking her again, 
and dragging madly at her hand. " Oh ! what is this 
dreadful sleep ? Her hand is cold. What is this terrible 
coldness ? Help, my friends ! Help me to waken them ! 
Moa ! Moa ! " But still she heard him not. 

Suddenly, with a start, he raised his head, and turning 
quickly round,he gazed out seaward, while there stole over his 
face a bewildered look, which brightened into a happy smile. 

" Here now is a wondrous thing ! " said he, speaking 
slowly and in an altered tone. " Have I then been dreaming 
too ? Ah, Moa, how could you frighten me so ? But 
how did you get there to the canoe ? " 

" What canoe, Fifita ? " asked one of the gods. " Here 
lies Moa, and here is her child. To whom then are you 
speaking ? There is no canoe." 

" Nay, but there are three," Fifita said ; " two big ones 
and a little one, and one of them is empty. It is for me. 
Do you not see them ? Look ! There sits Moa ; never 
before was her face so beautiful. And our child — she too 
is there on the small canoe. They call me ; smiling, they 
call me. I come, my wife ! I come, my darling ! Stand 
aside, my friends, that I may go." 


Then the gods saw a strange look pass athwart his 
face ; a lofty and solemn look, such as they had seen 
never before. And the light faded from his eyes, over 
which the lids closed wearily ; and with a deep-drawn 
breath, he sank down by the side of his wife, whom he 
had loved so well. 

Then, as they stood, gazing in awestruck wonder on the 
prostrate forms, suddenly a shrill cry rose in their midst ; 
and one of them fell to the ground, writhing and shrieking 
as if in mortal agony, his hands clutching the air, his 
eyeballs rolling, his muscles twisted into knots, foam flying 
from his lips, which were drawn apart, showing his teeth 
set in a horrible grin, his flesh twitching and quivering 
beneath his skin, and his whole body convulsed, a fearful 
sight to see. And through the gathering darkness came 
a wailing moan, mingled with sobbing and sighing, and 
a faint rustling as of leaves. Then deep groans came 
struggling from the chest of him who was smitten down, 
and among them words, awful words, which the gods had 
never before heard spoken, but the meaning of which they 
felt in their hearts ; and the boldest of them shuddered as 
they heard ; for they knew the voice — it was the voice of 
the Tree of Speech ! 

" Subject to disease and death ! Subject to disease and 
death ! That is the doom of the disobedient ones who 
have left the Waters of Life. Bury the dead ! Let the 
earth hide them ! Thus shall ye all be, for now you are 
all given over to Disease and to Death." 

Ah then, the loud wailing, the loud wailing and the 
bitter fear ! But the evil was done ; it was past recall ; 
neither tears nor wailing could awaken the dead. So they 


dug a grave deep and wide for Fifita and Moa, and the 
child they laid upon its mother's breast. 

When they had filled the grave w^ith sand, they sat 
down in the Council-ring with heavy hearts ; and they re- 
solved to build another canoe, in which some of them 
might go sailing to Bulotu, and ask pardon of Maui for 
their evil deeds, praying also that they might be allowed to 
return to the land of the gods, and that the awful doom of 
" disease and death " might be taken from them. So they 
built the canoe ; but those who sailed in her came back after 
a long absence, weak and worn with hardship and fasting. 
They told of storms and roaring waves, and fearful monsters 
of the deep ; but Bulotu had been hidden from their eyes. 
Thus also has it been with us ever since that woeful day. 
Many of our heroes have sailed far and wide in search of 
the good land, but never have they reached its shores. 
Some of them, indeed, have told us that they saw it lying 
in the sunlight with its wooded hills, and its white ring of 
surf on the coral reef around it ; but it has always faded 
away as they sailed onward, till they have passed over the 
very spot where they saw it lying, green and beautiful, in 
the midst of the sea. 

Though their crime was very great, Maui did not 
utterly forsake the rebel gods ; for their fire having gone 
out in the time of trouble, he sent his son Kiji-kiji to Tonga 
with some of the sacred fire of Bulotu, that they might be 
able to cook their food. So Kiji-kiji brought the sacred 
fire to our land, and shut it up within a tree, from which 
we can bring it forth by rubbing two pieces of the wood 
together. And when he had done this, he went back to 


his father, taking Ata-longa with him — him and none 

Moreover, Tanga-loa went up to the sky, where he now 
reigns as its king ; and he drew aside the cloud-curtain, 
that the sun might shine down upon the earth more clearly, 
the moon also and the stars. And Maui's brother took up 
his abode in the sea, of which he is the ruler. As for Maui, 
it was his mind to stay in Bulotu ; but, after many days, 
he heard a great outcry, and shrieks for help from Tonga, 
whose people were crying to him in their distress, because 
their land had begun to sink again below the waves. Our 
fathers did not tell us how their cry reached his ears ; but 
we think it must have been reported to him by the Tree of 
Speech. This, however, we know — that he dived beneath 
the waters, and took the land upon his shoulders, that he 
might hold it up. And there he stands to this day holding 
up our land. When there is an earthquake we know that 
it is Maui nodding in his sleep ; and we shout, and stamp, 
and beat the ground with our clubs, that we may waken 
him. And when he is roused from his sleep, the earth 
trembles and shakes no more. 

So Hiku-leo became King of Bulotu ; and an evil king 
is he, for he delights in tormenting the souls of the dead, 
all of whom have to go to him when the Death-canoe 
brings them from the earth. They have no chance of 
escaping him ; for the canoes must land in front of his 
house, where he sits watching for their unhappy souls ; 
and whenever he goes out, he leaves his tail behind to keep 
watch in his place. None can escape him ; for he seizes 
the souls of the dead, making some of them his slaves, and 
others he uses as posts for his out-houses, and as stakes for 


his fence, and as bars for his gates. So cruel and savage of 
soul is he, that, were it not for the check that his two 
elder brothers keep upon him, he would destroy everything 
in Bulotu when he gets into his raging moods. But his 
brothers have bound him round the waist with the cord 
that can never be broken, tied in the knot that can never 
be loosed ; and Tanga-loa holds one end in the sky, while 
Maui grasps the other beneath the earth, so that they can 
pull him easily either this way or that way, as need 
may be. 

The story of the Beginning of Death has now been 
told ; but there is a sequel to it. The runaway gods, who 
dwelt in Tonga, peopling the land, had no slaves. But 
after a while, a sandpiper went forth to seek its food ; and 
scratching the ground in a place of mud, it unearthed a 
heap of worms, slimy of look and evil of smell. So loath- 
some, indeed, were they that the sandpiper could not eat 
them ; but, spurning them with his foot, scattered them 
about over the surface of the mud. And when the sun had 
shone on them for many days they grew into men, and 
our fathers, the gods in Tonga, took them for their slaves. 
These slaves have no souls, and when their days are ended, 
they die, and there is an end of them. Thus also is it with 
the white men. We know this, for we have asked them 
themselves, and they tell us that there are sandpipers in 
their land also. Here then is manifest the root of our 
greatness ; and this is why we, the people of Tonga, are 
the noblest among the nations. All the other people are 
children of the earth ; but we are children of the gods, 

inhabitants of Bulotu. 



Manufacture of Cloth from Tree-bark (p. 3). — Native 
cloth is called gatu when it is made in large pieces. This is done 
by pasting many small pieces together. It is made from the bark 
of a tree called Malo, or Masi (Broussonetia). The bark is first 
dried, then well soaked in water, and then beaten out on a large, 
heavy-rounded plank with a small square mallet, which has 
grooves and ridges cut on its faces. 

This work is called samu-samu, and is always done by the 
women. The meaning of the word is " a continued smiting." 

Gatus are often very beautifully painted in tasteful and intri- 
cate patterns, sometimes in various colours. The design is first 
carved in relief on a wooden block, and, the cloth being tightly 
stretched thereupon, the colour is rubbed over it, after the manner 
of rubbing brasses. 

The inferior kinds, however, are painted by hand without the 
aid of carved blocks. 

Some of the colours are very brilliant. They are all, I believe, 
extracted from vegetable productions. 

I have no doubt that there are many shrubs, &c., here, which 
would be of great value as dyes. 

Empty Coral Reefs (p. 5). — Thakau Lala, the "Empty 
reef," i.e. an outlying reef, inside which there is no land. These 
abound in fish of all sorts; and the natives sail to them in fine 
weather, sometimes spending a night, or even two, within their 

Hither once upon a time there drifted two wretched men from 
Mothe, who had been blown away from their own land, as they 
were out fishing in a paddle-canoe, by a sudden blast, which grew 
into an angry gale, before which they drifted down to this reef, a 



distance of some forty miles or more. A great breaker lifted 
their canoe over the line of surf ; and, to their joyful astonishment, 
they found themselves inside, in still and shallow water, where 
they were sheltered, and comparatively safe, though miserable 
enough. Here they stayed four days, when, the gale having 
blown itself out, they were picked up by a passing canoe, and 
took their joyful way back to their own land. During these four 
days they lived on fish, which they caught in great abundance, 
and ate raw. 

" Bulotu," the abode of the Blest (p. 16, cp. 139-61). — 
This is the Burotu of the story of " How the Livuka men came up 
to Windward." The Samoans call the island of the gods "P«/o/«." 
The people of Kandavu, S. Fiji, say that they often see Burotu on 
clear days from the tops of their hills. It lies S.E. from them, and 
whenever they see it the sun is shining full upon it ; but they have 
long ago given up all hope of finding it. 

Into a dead man's hand is put a whale's tooth, which he is 
supposed to throw at a pandanus tree, which stands on his way 
towards the Spirit-land (Bulu). If he succeeds in hitting the 
tree he is thenceforth all right, since his wife will then be 
strangled in due course, and he will thus have her spirit to 
cook for him in the other world. If he misses, however, she 
will live, and his unhappy ghost will break forth into the most 
dismal howling. 

The place where the departed spirits go down into Bulu is 
called Thimba-thimba. Each island has one of these places. 
Some Fijian heroes are believed to have gone down to Bulu in the 
body {thimba-gathoku). 

I may add that a person who has defiled himself by touching a 
corpse is called yatnbo, and is not allowed to touch food with his 
hands for several days. 

This, however, is only in the case of those who have died a 
natural death. 

A beautiful expression is employed in referring to the spirits 
of deceased persons, viz. " Those who are absent." 


during sleep, and entering into and troubling others, is called 
yalombula. Ghosts of the slain (jaloni-moku) are supposed to 
haunt the spot where they were killed, and bewail their unhappy 
lot. They can be killed a second time, when utter annihilation is 
the result ; but ifw Fijians have been found hardy enough to face 
them, they fear them too greatly. Commodore Wilkes tells us 
that he noticed the natives plucking a leaf, and throwing it down 
on the spot where a man had been slain. Williams also in his 
" Fiji and the Fijians " tells of a poor woman who went one rainy 
night to weep over the spot where her husband fell murdered. 
His murderers, hearing her howls, were terribly afraid, and said to 
one another in awestruck whispers, " What a strong man So-and- 
So must have been 1 Hear what a crying his spirit makes ! " 

The Great Temple at Bau (p. 27). — This is one of the old 
" high places " — the Mexican teocalli. The stone before which the 
corpse is lying was used in the ceremony of presenting the bokola 
(dead body for eating) to the gods of the temple. The bokola 
was dragged up to it, and dashed violently against it. The temple 
mound is higher than that of the greatest chief's house. The 
chiefs may have raised mounds, but not as high as those of the 
gods. " Their house-mound is high " means " they are chiefs." 
The commoner must build on the flat. 

Cannibalism (pp. 41-47). — The bokola is usually cut up into 
pieces of a size convenient for cooking ; but that this is not always 
the case we learn from the word boto-walai, quoted in the introduc- 
tion as meaning a human body baked whole. The etymology of 
this word is simply horrible. Boto is " a frog," and walai a very 
tough sort of runner, which is used for various purposes, as string 
or rope according to its size. Boto-walai, then, is " a trussed frog," 
and the word is applied in a sort of horrible jest to a man baked 
whole instead of divided into portions after the ordinary fashion. 
Such a body is thus prepared. The limbs having been arranged 
in the posture which it is intended they shall assume, banana leaves 
are wrapped round them to prevent the flesh falling off in the 
possible event of over-baking, and the whole body is carefully 
bound with the walai, so that the desired posture may be pre- 


served. A hole of sufficient size is then dug in the earth, and 
filled with dry wood, which is set on fire. When it is well 
kindled, a number of stones, about the size of a man's fist, are 
thrown into it ; and when the firewood is burnt down to a mass 
of glowing embers, some of the heated stones are lifted nimbly by 
tongs made of bent withes, and thrust within the dead man's body. 
The fire in the hole is then raked level and covered with large 
leaves, on which the body is carefully laid : the hot stones are 
arranged around and over it ; it is covered with banana leaves, and 
then the dug out earth is shovelled back upon it and heaped above 
it. Presently the mound swells and rises ; little cracks appear, 
whence issue jets of steam difi^using a savoury odour ; and in due 
time, of which the Fijians are excellent judges, the culinary process 
is complete. The earth is then cautiously removed, the body 
lifted out, its wrappings taken off, its face painted, a wig or a 
turban placed upon its head, and there we have a " trussed frog " in 
all its unspeakable hideousness, staring at us with wide open, pro- 
minent, lack-lustre eyes. There is no burning or roasting: the 
body is cooked in its own steam, and the features are so little 
disturbed by the process that the dead man can almost always be 
recognised by those who knew him when he was alive. 

Vale-karusa, which means, literally, " the house that perishes," 
is " the trunk of the body," so called because it will not keep so 
long as the limbs, and is therefore eaten first when any part of 
the bokola is to be kept for another day. This is sometimes the 
case, as when a chief gets hold of one against whom he has a very 
bitter enmity, he will sometimes insist upon eating him all himself! 
And, incredible as this may sound, it is a well-known fact that it 
has been done over and over again in Fiji, the body having been 
kept moderately sweet by frequent bakings. 

The Double Canoe (pp. 89, 100). — A double canoe is made 
of two queer-shaped boats, which are fastened together, side by 
side, with a considerable space between them, by timbers laid across 
the midship gunwales of both, and lashed thereto with sinnet. 
Over these timbers the deck is laid, two open spaces being left, 
fore and aft, in each boat, for bailing. The ends are covered in, 


and are considerably lower than the midships. In tacking, a 
canoe is not hove about like our vessels, and has therefore, strictly 
speaking, neither stem nor stern — that being the stem on one 
tack which is the stern on the other. And as in tacking the 
sail is shifted from one end of the canoe to the other, the mast 
working on a pivot at the foot, the same broadside is always 
to windward. The boat, then, on the weather side is called thama, 
and that to leeward the kata. 

Hence the escape of Talingo may be understood ; for, coming 
up, after her dive between the thama and the kata, she would be 
hidden from those on board by the planks of the deck, 

I have spoken of paddles, but they are more like oars or sculls, 
and, when in use, are held nearly perpendicularly, the blade being 
let down through holes in the deck. There are paddles also, 
which are different things, having long, slender handles, and 
short, broad blades. 

Possession by Spirits (p. 119). — The twitching of the 
flesh is a phenomenon most horrible to behold, which is observed 
in the bodies of some Fijians when they are under the influence of 
violent excitement. The heathen priests are thus affected when the 
god enters them. % 

I had seen, up to 1866, but one instance of it. This was in 
a heathen town, and the person thus affected was the king of 
the place, who was, moreover, the high-priest, and whose flesh 
" twitched, and quivered, and crept " while we were talking to 
him. We learned afterwards that he intended to murder all our 
party, which amiable intention he was, happily, prevented from 
carrying out. 

The horrible convulsions into which the heathen priests fall 
when their god enters them are called Kudru. I have seen a 
priest under the influence of this pretended inspiration, and the 
sight was most horrifying. Not only was the whole body con- 
vulsed, but the flesh all over the body was twitching and crawling 
in a most unearthly manner, dreadful to behold. 

The Fijian priests when they were possessed by a god, were 
in the habit of speaking in a sort of squeaking tone, such as is 


expressed by the old English "peep" in Isaiah viii. 19 — "wizards 
that peep and mutter" (R.V. "chirp"). They profess to be the 
actual mouthpiece of the god, whose name they proclaim — " It is 
I, So-and-So," and then the message is delivered. 

Ceremonies Practised at Chief-burial (p. 133). — The 
dead chief lies on the mat in the centre of the house, oiled and 
painted, and with the whale's tooth in his hand which he has to 
throw at the baka tree which stands on the road to Bulu. If 
he hits the tree, he will be sure to be followed by his strangled 
wife. If he misses, he goes on his way grumbling, " Here now 
is a shameful thing ! I always did my duty to my kinsfolk, and 
they have left me to go alone on the way to Bulu." 

The Chief's Grave. — These stone graves are found principally 
in Eastern Fiji. The grave proper is made of large, flat, coral 
slabs, cut from the reef, and carefully shaped. One is laid down 
for the bottom of the grave. Upon it the slabs for the sides and 
ends are placed erect. The sixth slab is reserved for the lid. 
Baskets of sea sand are poured all round the grave, and the sand is 
kept in place by flat stones brought from the reef, and built up all 
round the central grave. They are carefully washed, for no earth 
must be in contact with the grave. When the body is deposited 
the lid is put on, and the mound is built up a foot or two higher, 
and covered with coloured pebbles from the sea beach. 

The Chiefs Grave-digger {Great Fiji). — Not every one can dig 
a chiefs grave. The ofiice is hereditary in a certain clan. After 
the funeral the digger is shut up in a house, and painted black ^ 
from head to foot. When he has to make a short excursion, he 
covers himself with a large mantle of painted native cloth, and is 
supposed to be invisible. His food is brought to the house after 
dark by silent bearers, who place it just within the doorway. His 
seclusion may last for a long time. 

In some parts of the hill-country of Great Fiji, the chief is 
buried in a " drive " from the main shaft. When he is supposed 
to be dying, he is placed there with his head on a Fijian wooden 
pillow. Food and water are placed on the bottom of the shaft. 
When these are unconsumed, the grave is filled up. This, the 


J natives say, is a survival of cave-burial from the time when their 
fathers lived in a place where there were caves, before they migrated 
to their present seats. A horrible custom is connected with Nandi 
(West Great Fiji), where people who have a grudge against the 
chief for wrong done to them by him during his life, will dig up 
his body, and eat it with great gusto. I have known this to be 
done when the flesh was positively " green." To prevent this his 
official attendants take his body away, and bury it secretly by night. 
One of them personates him, lying under the mosquito curtain, 
and speaking in the faint, querulous tones of a dying man. After 
a time he appears on the house mound, as in the picture ; and when 
the townsfolk come to inquire after the chief, he points coolly 
over his shoulder, and says, " It is he who was buried long ago." 
They go away cursing. 

IVidow-str angling. — The widow must follow her husband. It 
would be utterly abominable for her to object. Some woman, 
at least, must go along with the dead man to wait upon him. 
The old mother is sometimes preferred to a good-looking widow, 
who is sure to be in request. The doomed woman is told to 
expel her breath as far as she can, and then to give a signal by 
raising her hand. Thereupon the strangling-cord is drawn tight, 
and soon all is over. The expulsion of breath is thought to 
prevent suffering, and to hasten death. The dress of the widow 
is not correct. She ought to be dressed in her best, with all her 
ornaments. The sick and aged are also sometimes buried alive, 
with equally benevolent motives. 

Before leaving the subject, I may mention the practice of 
cutting off the little finger as a sign of mourning when relatives 
or great chiefs die. In such cases the fourth finger is said to " cry 
itself hoarse in vain for its absent mate " {T)roga-droga-wale). 

Cheating the Grandfather. — This custom is practised especially 
in Vanua-levu, where descent is still reckoned through the 
mother. Under that line of descent the paternal grandfather 
is nearer to the child than the father is. Thus, let A and B be 
two intermarrying clans. Let their males be represented by 
capitals and the females by small letters. Thus A marries h., 


and his son is B, not A like himself. But that son marries a, and 

his son is A, like his grandfather. Thus — 

ji marries b 

Their son B marries a 

The grandson is A. 

The dead grandfather, therefore, will be likely to want to take 
his grandson with him. So they put his body on a bier, and some 
half-dozen young fellows take it on their shoulders. The mother's 
brother runs round the bier, back and forth, with the child in his 
arms. The dead man tries to follow his movements, looking from 
one side to the other until he is supposed to be thoroughly giddy, 
and then the mother's brother darts away, and the carriers trot off 
at a run to the grave. The poor baffled grandfather does not 
know where to seek his grandson. 

Kava-drinking (pp. 147-8). — The Fijian Tang-gona or 
Yagona {Piper methysticum) is the '•'■ ava" '■^ cava" or ^"^ kava" of 
travellers. The first is the Fijian, and the last (kava) the Samoan 
form of the word, which latter has been rendered familiar to many 
of us by a crowd of writers — more especially by Robert Louis 

It is drunk, in solemn assembly, on almost all state occasions. 
The bowl wherein it is made is called Tanoa, and is often 
elaborately carved. A small rope is fastened to one part of 
the rim. The drinking cup is half a large coconut shell, 
which after long use gets to itself a curious lining of white 

When the drinkers are assembled together, they squat down 
upon their hams, in a semicircle, fronting the great chief, near to 
whom is the master of the ceremonies. The tanoa is laid down 
within the circle, its rope being stretched out, pointing to where 
the greatest of the assembled chiefs is sitting. 

Then is heard, without, a deep voice saying " Ah-h-h-h- ! 
Yes ! " and a man comes in, bearing a yang-gona root, whereupon all 
the assembly unite in a loud cry of * A great root ! " drawling out 



each syllable, and finishing up with a shrill neigh. (This expres- 
sion " a shrill neigh " exactly expresses the yell which they give 

Then the root is cut up into small pieces, which are given 
to young men, or girls, who chew it in solemn silence, throwing 
each mouthful, when properly chewed, into the tanoa, with a 
smart flop. Water is then poured thereon, and worked about 
by the hands of some one in the assembly. The chewings are 
then strained out of the tanoa, the strainer being a bundle of some 
sort of fibre, which is squeezed out, and well shaken over and 
over again, before the liquor is considered to be ready. 

The cup is then handed to him who wields the strainer, and 
is filled by squeezing the wet fibre into it, whereupon the cup- 
bearer shouts in a mighty voice, "Poured forth," and the master 
of the ceremonies names the man whose turn it is to drink ; the 
person so named clapping his hands twice, to point out where 
he is sitting. 

Various are the ceremonies of jy««^-^o»<2-drinking in the different 
parts of Fiji, but the foregoing is the custom of the Windward 

Tang-gona has an intoxicating, or rather, stupefying efi^ect, 
and inveterate drinkers are known by their bleared eyes and 
scurfy skins. 


"Absent, those who are" [io via na 
yaS), i.e. the dead. Thus Z,uve ni 
yali or " child of the absent " is an 
orphan, 109. 

Akoulea, the tree of speech, 140. 

Alo-alo, the name of the god of Haapai, 
q.v., 59/. 

Anga-tonu (the "Just One"), 120. 

Assassins who creep into the house by 
night, called Batiiandi in Samoan, 43. 
See alio Introduction, xx. 

Ata, a country, 145. 

Baka (pronounced miaia), the banyan- 
tree, in connection with the worship 
of the god Dengei, 28. 

Banana stalks, meaning women, 100. See 
Appendix on Double Canoe. 

Batiiandi, XX. 

Bau (pronounced Mbau), a town in Fiji, 
l/l, 27, 54. 

Bengga (pronounced Mbengga^, in Fiji, 
described as the place where the Sky- 
Child descended to earth after his visit 
to the Sky-King, 54. 

Benu, XXV. 

Belimbeti, xxx. 

Bewitch, to (yaka-ndraunikau-tahd), lite- 
rally, to act upon [some one] by 
i means of the] leaves of trees. See 
ntroduction, xxxi. 

Bird tha- guided Matandua, 118. Fijians 
when sailing will, on the approach of a 
great sea-bird, often utter a shout of 
respect (tama) and say, " Give us a 
good wind, my lord." 

Boat builders. See Mataisau. 

Boio/a (or mb/ikola), a dead body for 
eating ; the dance of triumph over 
the bokola is termed thimbi-thimbi, 
XXXV, 3, 67. 

Boto-ivalai, a lolola baked whole. See 

Introduction, xviii. 
Bula-kaureki, xxiv, 19. 
Bulotu, the Home of the Gods, 139. 
Bulu (pronounced Mbulu), the Land of 

Spirits, xvi, xx, 10, 75, 133. 
Buluta-mbiila-mbula, xxv, xxvii_/I 
Bure, xxiy". 

Burial of Matandua described, 133. 
Burotu, the name of an imaginary island 

in the Ono passage, 16. See Bulotu. 
Burying alive, see under " strangling," 

108 ; alio Introduction, xv. 
Butoni, the name of an island, i, 3. 

Cannibalism (veiiani-iani), in Samoan, 
with accent on the last syllable, xviii, 
XX, xxiv, xxxvi_^ 

Cat, the story of the Sacred, 59. 

"Charitable one," the [Aoaoiimajijiva), 
the name of a Tongan woman, 49. 

" Child-that-challenges-men " [Tamaji- 
ukei-kia-maui), the name of the Sky- 
King's son in Tongan story, 51, 53. 

Cloth [gatu), manufactured from tree- 
bark by women. See Appendix. 

Club, termed gandro when it has smashed 
a skull, XX. 

Convulsions (^iudru), affecting the priests 
when their god enters them, 3. 

Datuvu, xix, XX. 

Daulamba, xxi. 

Daulawaki (pronounced Ndowlatuaggy"), 
the " Great Rogue," referring to the 
Fijian who ate the Sacred Cat, 60. 

Dausinga, xli. 

Da-wai, xxv. 

Death-roll [derua or dorua) of the 
Toogan cannibals, sounded on the lali, 




a wooden drum, on the arrival of the 
boholas, 25, 53, 112, 128. 

Dilio (pronounced Ndilio), the sandpiper, 
messenger of the Sky-King, 23. 

Doi (pronounced Ndo'i), a small island, 
close to Ono {q^i}.), and within the 
same reef, 106. 

Donatha, XX. 

Draunikau, xxxi. 

Drum (of the cannibals), 53. See Death- 

Earthquakes, Fijian explanation of their 
cause, 28. 

Faei-puaka, i.e. " mother of pigs." She 
appears in the Samoan tradition of the 
first appearance of pigs in that island, 
42^7:, 46. 

Faha, the name of a young man men- 
tioned in the story of Matandua, loi. 

Fekai, wife of Longapoa, 67, 'zff. 

Fifita, a god, 1 54. 

Fonua, betrothed to Pulu, a Tongan 
chief, 68, 71. 

Gandro, XX. 

Giant (man-eating), story of Matandua's 

victory over, 125. 
Great Fiji (^Naviti-levu), the name of the 

largest island of the Fijian group, i, 9. 
Great Rogue, the, 60^ 
Great Serpent the [Dengei or Ndengei), 

a Fijian god with a temple in Great 

Fiji. 27/:, 54, 87. 

Haapai, or Haabai, one of the Friendly 
or Tonga Islands, 59_^, 66, 145. 

Hair (as an index of race) : Talingo's 
hair was stiff, sticking straight out 
instead of hanging down, 104. 

Hemonaa-uliuli, ruler of the sea, 151, 160. 

Hihifo and Mua, two new towns said to 
have been founded by the descendants 
of the man-eating giant (y.ti. ), 129. 

Hikuleo, a god, 140. 

Hunger (after flesh) (in Fijian iusima 
or kuslkuslma), a word, the presence 
of which in the language points to a 
scarcity of animal food among the 
people, 41. See Introduction, xv. 

Ilo-anga, "the Cunning One," the name 
of a kind of household spirit in Samoan 
tradition, 43^. 

Iia, an exclamation ot impatience, 95. 

Kalo-fanga, the son of Anga-tonu, 123. 

Kamba, the name of an island, 5. 

Kambara, the name of an island, 87. 

Kandavu, one of the islands of the Fijian 
group, 21, 26. 

Kanokubolu, the War-King, 66. 

Kata, the leeward half of a double canoe, 
100. See Appendix on the Double 

Kausambaria, the brother of Rokola, chief 
of the tribe of boat-builders in Fiji, 29. 

Kauvandra, the Hill of, a steep hill in 
Great Fiji, where there is still an old 
temple of Dengei, the Serpent-god, 
28, 30, 54. 

Kava-Ax'xnVing, 91, 140, 147. See Ap- 

Kekeo, the name of an edible shell-fish, 

^7 /• . 
Kendi-kendi, the town of the King of 

Lakemba, 12. 
Kiji-Kiji, son of Maui, 148, 159. 
Koli, xxi. 

Koro, the name of an island, 6. 
Korot, xxiff. 
Kru, kru, kru, in imitation of the cooing 

of a dove, 28. 
Kunata, xxv, xxviii. » 

Kusima, xiv. '9j 

"Lady Sweet-eyes" l^^ndi Matataml- 
tamitha), the (Tongan) name of the 
Sky-Child's wife. It may also mean 
" Lady Sweet - face," or " Sweet- 
looks" — mata meaning either "eye" 
or "countenance," i.e. "look," 54. 

Lakemba, the name of an island (of the 
Tonga group) whose chiefs are called 
Lords of Naiau, i, 5, 49. 

Lalawa-ni-sa, xvi. 

L,ali, the cannibal drum, 53. See Death- 

Lamia, xxi. 

Langi, Fijian for " sky," hence Lady 
" Langi " is the " Sky-lady," ^ff. 



Lango, xvi. 

Latui, a man of Vayao, 112. See Ad- 
ventures of Matandua. 

Lavaipani, name of a boy of Samoa who 
miraculously obtained perpetual youth, 

Lekambai, 9, igff, 

Leiue n't lovo, xxxvi. 

Liku, xxxi. 

Livuka, an island. The Liruka Tribe 
were the "gypsies" of Fiji, and 
"supplied the ranks of its traders, 
fishermen, and blackguards !", i. 

Loki-loki, the "lamester," a name given 
to Yangolevu or " Bigbody " when 
outwitted by Matandua. " Loki-loki " 
is applied to those who are lamed in 
the knee ; those who are lamed in the 
hip are called " Gera," in. 

Lolohea, a Tongan chief, 68. 

Lona, xli. 

Long Island, 7. 

Longa-poa, a Tongan chief, 65. 

Lotu, the name given to Christianity in 
Fiji, XT, 26, 49. 

Lovo-lautht, xxxix. 

Luveni-yah, an orphan — literally, "child 
of the absent." ^^f Appendix. 

Magi-magt, the Tongan name for sinnet, 
made by plaiting coco-nut fibre, 35. 

Malani, eldest of the boatbuilders, 90. 

Malo, xxxi. 

Man-of-luck [Kailufahe-tuugau), "one 
who unexpectedly finds a great thing," 
a (proverbially) "lucky man," 42. 

Manu-manu-ni-latha, xvii. 

Mara, the chief who searched in vain for 
Burotu, 16. 

Marriage: Fijians marry within the tribe, 

Mat (of woven coco-nut leaf), called 
tamhakau, 20. 

Mataisau, "ship-carpenters" or "boat- 
builders" — the name of a tribe, 27, 

Matandua (or Mata-dua), the "One- 
eyed," from mata, " eye," and dua, 
" one," 99. 

Maui, greatest of the gods, 1 39. 

Melaia, 36. See Moon. 
Moa, wife of Fifita, 155. 
Moala, the Gleeman, 69, 71. 
Mohuta, xxi. 

Monuia, 36 _^ See Moon. 
Mua, 129. fe Hihifo. 

Nabuna, a woman's name, 2. 

Naiau, the name of an island ; Tui Naiau, 

the " Lord of N " the title of the 

teller of many of these tales, 5, 49, etc. 

Nairai, a beautiful little island in the 
midst of the Fijian group, 48 miles E. 
by N. from Bau. Famous for its mats 
and baskets ; also for a remarkable 
rock whereon the compass varies 13 J 
points, 132. 

Namu-namu, xxx. 

Napoleon, fantastic native tradition about, 

Nasali, the name of an island, 16 f. 
Nasangkalau, the name of a town in 

Lakemba, 56. 
Natautoa, the chief town of Nairai, 132. 
Navatu, a coral reef described as having 

no soil upon it, 31. 
Naviti-Ievu, I.e. Great Fiji, xli. 
Ngau, an island, xxxvi. 
Night, Fijian explanation of iu cause, 38. 
Niua, 145. 
Noko-noio or nuiu-nuku, iron wood, of 

which material the stick carried by the 

Sky-King's son was made, 51 ; also 

the name of a village, 33. 
Nothata, xxxi. 

Offering — given when a request is made, 

called soro in Fijian, 47. 
Oneata, the name of an island, 12, 87. 
Ono, the most southerly island of the 

Fijian group, lying 140 miles S. by E. 

from Lakemba, i\ff., 102. 
Ono-levu, or " Big Ono," the chief town 

of the island of Ono, where Matandua 

is said to have been cast ashore with 

his mother, 102. 
Ovens, the Fijian oven is really a hole 

dug in the ground, and heated by hot 

stones, 22. "Inmate of the oven," 




Papalangi, "Whitemansland," 145. 

Pato, or Nga, xliii. 

Pig, puaka or "vuaka in Samoan, xlii _/"., 

46. " Long pig " is the cannibal term 

for human meat. 
Pitfall, dug for Matandua, 1 10. 
Pulu, a Tongan chief, 68. 

Ra, the native name given to the lee- 
ward part of Fiji ; i.e. the districts 
nearest to Bau and " Navitilevu " or 
" Great Fiji," 94/. 

Rara, the public square found in the 
villages of these islands, xxxvi, 50. 

Ratumainakoro, the "lord that came 
from the town," a god of Tumbou, 55. 

Ravu and derivatives, xx, xxi. 

Rewa, one of the islands of the Fijian 
group, whose chief's title was Roko 
Tui Dreketi (pronounced Ndreketi), 
26, 54. 

Roko Sokotukevei, Lord-whither-is-he- 
sailing, the name of the teller of the 
" Story of Matandua," x. 

Rokola, a former chief of the " Mataisau" 
tribe(or "Boatbuilders") of Fiji,29^. 

Rumbilaka, xxi. 

Sakinsa, the name of a chief, 12. 

Sakuta, xxi. 

Salutations in Tonga. The ordinary 
Tongan salutation is Sa-yandra (" You 
are awake"). That addressed to any 
one who has just landed after a voyage 
is Malo he felau ("Good is your sail- 
ing"), S5» "O- 

Samoa, the Island of. How the Samoans 
got their pigs, 20/"., 41. 

Samuta, xxi. 

Sausau, xxxi. 

Sauva, xxxi. 

Seni-rewa, or "Flower of Rewa," the 
name of the wife of Tausere, 102. 

Sky, tradition of its being formerly nearer 
to the earth, 51. 

Slain, dragging the bodies of the ; a game 
formerly played by children in Tonga, 
the bodies (ioio/a") being represented 
by logs of wood, 50. 

" Slayer-that-came-from-heaven" (Ravu- 
ravu-mm-Iangi), the Tongan name 

given to the Sky-Child after his visit 
to the sky, 54^. 

Song of Death, 65, 85, 112. See i)m 
story of Longa-poa. 

Stick, of ironwood planted by the Sky- 
Child and that grew up to heaven in a 
single night, so that he was able to i 
reach heaven by climbing it, 51. See\ 

Stone implements, Fijian methods o( 
using, 89. 

Strangling or burying alive, at request, an 
aged parent, relative, or friend wag 
looked on by the heathen Fijians as an 
act of piety, 108. 

Sun and the Sun-Child, 33. 

Sun-Child (Jiji-matai/aa), 33. 

Taiu, "taboo." In Fiji pronounced 
tamiu, but in the Friendly Islands as 
in English. It has a second meaning, 
something set aside as " holy," as vo/ai 
taiu, the Bible, 57. 1 

Takape (or Takabe), the " Unmarriedl 
One," a Tongan word, lOl, 120. | 

Taliaitupou, the L ord of Naiau. Also the] 
name given by the Sky-Child to his soo' 
by the " Lady Sweet-Eyes," 56, 65. 

Talingo (or Taligo), the "Forgotten 
One," past participle of ligotha, to for- 
get, a Fijian word only used in the. 
Windward Islands. The name of 
Matandua's mother, loi. 

Tamaeiki, a Tongan chief, 68. 

Tanoa, father of Thakombau, xxxvi. 

Tatak't, XX. 

Tauki, the "Merry One," the wife ofj 
Matandua, 128. 

Taumbe-vandra, xviii. 

Tausere, the " Unbound One," husband j 
of Senirewa and the adopter ofj 
Matandua, 102. 

Tha, xxiii. 

Thalau-Iala, thi " empty reef," 112. 

Thakombau, or Thikinovu, son of Tanoa, j 

Thatha veltathini, xxxiii^ 

Thithia, the name of an island, 7. 

Tho and Thoiho, xvi. 

Thulang gungguna, xxiv. 



Toa, xliii. 

Tonga, the Lord of, called Tut Tonga in 
Fijian, 47. 

the Island of, 118, 129. Tonga- 
tabu = " Sacred Tonga," xiv. 

men of, 19, 120. Tongan« are 

of lighter colour than Fijians, and 
otherwise different in look. 

Tooth of wind (iuti kangi), a sudden 
blast of wind, 99. 

Tribes. Every town or district i« divided 
into a number of tribes, each having 
its own chief or chiefs (all of whom, 
however, are subject to the king), and 
each having its own feuds with all the 
rest, 106. 

Tuapiko, the "Hunchback," a Tongan 
name, 50. 

Tui Langi, the " Sky-King," 20, 49. 

Tui Naiau, 27, 49, 57. 

Tumbou, the name of what is now the 
chief town in Lakemba, 55. 

Turtle-shell fish-hooks used in Tonga, 23. 

Turtle, xvii. The story of the, 20-23. 

Turukawa, the name of Dengei's dove, 
killed by the " Mataisau," 87. 

Tuvana, a small island, 16 f, 

Tuwara, the wise god of Kambara. 
Both Tuwara and Wa - kuli - kuli 
belonged to the class of gods called 
Tupua, and were by no means of such 
exalted dignity as Dengei and Tui 
Lakemba, 88 j^ 

Umij'i, xHt. 

Vai-ola, the Water of Life, 140. 

Vaka, derivatives of the word, xv, xvi, 
xvii, xxi, xxiv, xxix^ 

Vakano, the name of a town in Lakemba, 

Valu, xxiii. 

Vampire-bat [beka, pronounced mbeka), 
the familiar spirit of the man-eating 
giant slain by Matandua, 122. 

Vanua Levu, or Balevu, " Long Is- 
land," the name of the largest island 

in Fiji, with the sole exception of 

Navitilevu, xli, 7. 
Vatoa, the name of an island, 1 2. 
Vatulele, the name of an island ; native 

tradition of its origin, 31. 
Vau, and its compounds, xli. 
Vaulolo, xli. 
Vavau, an island of the Tongan group, 

129, 145. 
Vave of Kolonga, 138. 
Veinadui, xxx. 
f^eisaungone, xliv. 
yia and its compounds, xli. 
Fisa, xxi. 
Vonu, xvii. 
Vuaka. See Pig. 
Vuang-gava, an inland lake near Kambara, 


Wakuli-kuli, the name of a god of 
Oneata, 87. 

Waloloi, xli. 

IVangka, xxi. 

Wangka-talatha, the name of a town, 
8, II. 

War-king, the, 66. 

Wathi-wathi, formerly the chief town 
of Lakemba, $$f. 

Weather-half, or thama, of a (double) 
canoe ; the part assigned to the women, 
100. See Appendix on the Double 

Whale's tooth (Vatu-nl-balawa), put into 
a dead man's hand to throw at the 
pandanus tree on his way to the Land 
of Spirits, 42. 

White unpainted Samoan cloth (called 
mast), 42. 

Wind (from the N.E.), called Tokalau 
in Tonga, 66, 99. 

Wot ! •wot ! an expression of astonish- 
ment, 10. 

Yango-levu, the " Big-bodied," a son of 

the Chief of Ono, 106. 
Tara-ni-nduru, xvi. 
Yasawa, the name of a small group of 

islands beyond Vanua Levu, 9. 
Tavita, xxi. 


Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &• Co. 
Edinburgh &-■ London 




GR Fison, Lorimer 

385 Tales from old Fill