At the top of the climb I made my way again to the water-
course; it is here running steady and pretty full; strange
these intermittencies - and just a little below the main
stream is quite dry, and all the original brook has gone down
some lava gallery of the mountain - and just a little further
below, it begins picking up from the left hand in little
boggy tributaries, and in the inside of a hundred yards has
grown a brook again. The general course of the brook was, I
guess, S.E.; the valley still very deep and whelmed in wood.
It seemed a swindle to have made so sheer a climb and still
find yourself at the bottom of a well. But gradually the
thing seemed to shallow, the trees to seem poorer and
smaller; I could see more and more of the silver sprinkles of
sky among the foliage, instead of the sombre piling up of
tree behind tree. And here I had two scares - first, away up
on my right hand I heard a bull low; I think it was a bull
from the quality of the low, which was singularly songful and
beautiful; the bulls belong to me, but how did I know that
the bull was aware of that? and my advance guard not being at
all properly armed, we advanced with great precaution until I
was satisfied that I was passing eastward of the enemy. It
was during this period that a pool of the river suddenly
boiled up in my face in a little fountain. It was in a very
dreary, marshy part among dilapidated trees that you see
through holes in the trunks of; and if any kind of beast or
elf or devil had come out of that sudden silver ebullition, I
declare I do not think I should have been surprised. It was
perhaps a thing as curious - a fish, with which these head
waters of the stream are alive. They are some of them as
long as my finger, should be easily caught in these shallows,
and some day I'll have a dish of them.
Very soon after I came to where the stream collects in
another banana swamp, with the bananas bearing well. Beyond,
the course is again quite dry; it mounts with a sharp turn a
very steep face of the mountain, and then stops abruptly at
the lip of a plateau, I suppose the top of Vaea mountain:
plainly no more springs here - there was no smallest furrow
of a watercourse beyond - and my task might be said to be
accomplished. But such is the animated spirit in the service
that the whole advance guard expressed a sentiment of
disappointment that an exploration, so far successfully
conducted, should come to a stop in the most promising view
of fresh successes. And though unprovided either with
compass or cutlass, it was determined to push some way along
the plateau, marking our direction by the laborious process
of bending down, sitting upon, and thus breaking the wild
cocoanut trees. This was the less regretted by all from a
delightful discovery made of a huge banyan growing here in
the bush, with flying-buttressed flying buttresses, and huge
arcs of trunk hanging high overhead and trailing down new
complications of root. I climbed some way up what seemed the
original beginning; it was easier to climb than a ship's
rigging, even rattled; everywhere there was foot-hold and
hand-hold. It was judged wise to return and rally the main
body, who had now been left alone for perhaps forty minutes
in the bush.
The return was effected in good order, but unhappily I only
arrived (like so many other explorers) to find my main body
or rear-guard in a condition of mutiny; the work, it is to be
supposed, of terror. It is right I should tell you the Vaea
has a bad name, an AITU FAFINE - female devil of the woods -
succubus - haunting it, and doubtless Jack had heard of her;
perhaps, during my absence, saw her; lucky Jack! Anyway, he
was neither to hold nor to bind, and finally, after nearly
smashing me by accident, and from mere scare and
insubordination several times, deliberately set in to kill
me; but poor Jack! the tree he selected for that purpose was
a banana! I jumped off and gave him the heavy end of my whip
over the buttocks! Then I took and talked in his ear in
various voices; you should have heard my alto - it was a
dreadful, devilish note - I KNEW Jack KNEW it was an AITU.
Then I mounted him again, and he carried me fairly steadily.
He'll learn yet. He has to learn to trust absolutely to his
rider; till he does, the risk is always great in thick bush,
where a fellow must try different passages, and put back and
forward, and pick his way by hair's-breadths.
The expedition returned to Vailima in time to receive the
visit of the R. C. Bishop. He is a superior man, much above
the average of priests.
THURSDAY.
Yesterday the same expedition set forth to the southward by
what is known as Carruthers' Road. At a fallen tree which
completely blocks the way, the main body was as before left
behind, and the advance guard of one now proceeded with the
exploration. At the great tree known as MEPI TREE, after
Maben the surveyor, the expedition struck forty yards due
west till it struck the top of a steep bank which it
descended. The whole bottom of the ravine is filled with
sharp lava blocks quite unrolled and very difficult and
dangerous to walk among; no water in the course, scarce any
sign of water. And yet surely water must have made this bold
cutting in the plateau. And if so, why is the lava sharp?
My science gave out; but I could not but think it ominous and
volcanic. The course of the stream was tortuous, but with a
resultant direction a little by west of north; the sides the
whole way exceeding steep, the expedition buried under
fathoms of foliage. Presently water appeared in the bottom,
a good quantity; perhaps thirty or forty cubic feet, with
pools and waterfalls. A tree that stands all along the banks
here must be very fond of water; its roots lie close-packed
down the stream, like hanks of guts, so as to make often a
corrugated walk, each root ending in a blunt tuft of
filaments, plainly to drink water. Twice there came in small
tributaries from the left or western side - the whole plateau
having a smartish inclination to the east; one of the
tributaries in a handsome little web of silver hanging in the
forest. Twice I was startled by birds; one that barked like
a dog; another that whistled loud ploughman's signals, so
that I vow I was thrilled, and thought I had fallen among
runaway blacks, and regretted my cutlass which I had lost and
left behind while taking bearings. A good many fishes in the
brook, and many cray-fish; one of the last with a queer glow-
worm head. Like all our brooks, the water is pure as air,
and runs over red stones like rubies. The foliage along both
banks very thick and high, the place close, the walking
exceedingly laborious. By the time the expedition reached
the fork, it was felt exceedingly questionable whether the
MORAL of the force were sufficiently good to undertake more
extended operations. A halt was called, the men refreshed
with water and a bath, and it was decided at a drumhead
council of war to continue the descent of the Embassy Water
straight for Vailima, whither the expedition returned, in
rather poor condition, and wet to the waist, about 4. P.M.
Thus in two days the two main watercourses of this country
have been pretty thoroughly explored, and I conceive my
instructions fully carried out. The main body of the second
expedition was brought back by another officer despatched for
that purpose from Vailima. Casualties: one horse wounded;
one man bruised; no deaths - as yet, but the bruised man
feels to-day as if his case was mighty serious.
DEC. 25, '91.
Your note with a very despicable bulletin of health arrived
only yesterday, the mail being a day behind. It contained
also the excellent TIMES article, which was a sight for sore
eyes. I am still TABOO; the blessed Germans will have none
of me; and I only hope they may enjoy the TIMES article.
'Tis my revenge! I wish you had sent the letter too, as I
have no copy, and do not even know what I wrote the last day,
with a bad headache, and the mail going out. However, it
must have been about right, for the TIMES article was in the
spirit I wished to arouse. I hope we can get rid of the man
before it is too late. He has set the natives to war; but
the natives, by God's blessing, do not want to fight, and I
think it will fizzle out - no thanks to the man who tried to
start it. But I did not mean to drift into these politics;
rather to tell you what I have done since I last wrote.
Well, I worked away at my History for a while, and only got
one chapter done; no doubt this spate of work is pretty low
now, and will be soon dry; but, God bless you, what a lot I
have accomplished; WRECKER done, BEACH OF FALESA done, half
the HISTORY: C'EST ETONNANT. (I hear from Burlingame, by the
way, that he likes the end of the WRECKER; 'tis certainly a
violent, dark yarn with interesting, plain turns of human
nature), then Lloyd and I went down to live in Haggard's
rooms, where Fanny presently joined us. Haggard's rooms are
in a strange old building - old for Samoa, and has the effect
of the antique like some strange monastery; I would tell you
more of it, but I think I'm going to use it in a tale. The
annexe close by had its door sealed; poor Dowdney lost at sea
in a schooner. The place is haunted. The vast empty sheds,
the empty store, the airless, hot, long, low rooms, the claps
of wind that set everything flying - a strange uncanny house
to spend Christmas in.
JAN. 1ST, '92.
For a day or two I have sat close and wrought hard at the
HISTORY, and two more chapters are all but done. About
thirty pages should go by this mail, which is not what should
be, but all I could overtake. Will any one ever read it? I
fancy not; people don't read history for reading, but for
education and display - and who desires education in the
history of Samoa, with no population, no past, no future, or
the exploits of Mataafa, Malietoa, and Consul Knappe?
Colkitto and Galasp are a trifle to it. Well, it can't be
helped, and it must be done, and, better or worse, it's
capital fun. There are two to whom I have not been kind -
German Consul Becker and English Captain Hand, R.N.
On Dec. 30th I rode down with Belle to go to (if you please)
the Fancy Ball. When I got to the beach, I found the
barometer was below 29 degrees, the wind still in the east
and steady, but a huge offensive continent of clouds and
vapours forming to leeward. It might be a hurricane; I dared
not risk getting caught away from my work, and, leaving
Belle, returned at once to Vailima. Next day - yesterday -
it was a tearer; we had storm shutters up; I sat in my room
and wrote by lamplight - ten pages, if you please, seven of
them draft, and some of these compiled from as many as seven
different and conflicting authorities, so that was a brave
day's work. About two a huge tree fell within sixty paces of
our house; a little after, a second went; and we sent out
boys with axes and cut down a third, which was too near the
house, and buckling like a fishing rod. At dinner we had the
front door closed and shuttered, the back door open, the lamp
lit. The boys in the cook-house were all out at the cook-
house door, where we could see them looking in and smiling.
Lauilo and Faauma waited on us with smiles. The excitement
was delightful. Some very violent squalls came as we sat
there, and every one rejoiced; it was impossible to help it;
a soul of putty had to sing. All night it blew; the roof was
continually sounding under missiles; in the morning the
verandahs were half full of branches torn from the forest.
There was a last very wild squall about six; the rain, like a
thick white smoke, flying past the house in volleys, and as
swift, it seemed, as rifle balls; all with a strange,
strident hiss, such as I have only heard before at sea, and,
indeed, thought to be a marine phenomenon. Since then the
wind has been falling with a few squalls, mostly rain. But
our road is impassable for horses; we hear a schooner has
been wrecked and some native houses blown down in Apia, where
Belle is still and must remain a prisoner. Lucky I returned
while I could! But the great good is this; much bread-fruit
and bananas have been destroyed; if this be general through
the islands, famine will be imminent; and WHOEVER BLOWS THE
COALS, THERE CAN BE NO WAR. Do I then prefer a famine to a
war? you ask. Not always, but just now. I am sure the
natives do not want a war; I am sure a war would benefit no
one but the white officials, and I believe we can easily meet
the famine - or at least that it can be met. That would give
our officials a legitimate opportunity to cover their past
errors.
JAN. 2ND.
I woke this morning to find the blow quite ended. The heaven
was all a mottled gray; even the east quite colourless; the
downward slope of the island veiled in wafts of vapour, blue
like smoke; not a leaf stirred on the tallest tree; only,
three miles away below me on the barrier reef, I could see
the individual breakers curl and fall, and hear their
conjunct roaring rise, as it still rises at 1 P.M., like the
roar of a thoroughfare close by. I did a good morning's
work, correcting and clarifying my draft, and have now
finished for press eight chapters, ninety-one pages, of this
piece of journalism. Four more chapters, say fifty pages,
remain to be done; I should gain my wager and finish this
volume in three months, that is to say, the end should leave
me per February mail; I cannot receive it back till the mail
of April. Yes, it can be out in time; pray God that it be in
time to help.
How do journalists fetch up their drivel? I aim only at
clearness and the most obvious finish, positively at no
higher degree of merit, not even at brevity - I am sure it
could have been all done, with double the time, in two-thirds
of the space. And yet it has taken me two months to write
45,500 words; and, be damned to my wicked prowess, I am proud
of the exploit! The real journalist must be a man not of
brass only, but bronze. Chapter IX. gapes for me, but I
shrink on the margin, and go on chattering to you. This last
part will be much less offensive (strange to say) to the
Germans. It is Becker they will never forgive me for; Knappe
I pity and do not dislike; Becker I scorn and abominate.
Here is the tableau. I. Elements of Discord: Native. II.
Elements of Discord: Foreign. III. The Sorrows of Laupepa.
IV. Brandeis. V. The Battle of Matautu. VI. Last Exploits
of Becker. VII. The Samoan Camps. VIII. Affairs of Lautii
and Fangalii. IX. 'FUROR CONSULARIS.' X. The Hurricane.
XI. Stuebel Recluse. XII. The Present Government. I
estimate the whole roughly at 70,000 words. Should anybody
ever dream of reading it, it would be found amusing.
70000/300=233 printed pages; a respectable little five-bob
volume, to bloom unread in shop windows. After that, I'll
have a spank at fiction. And rest? I shall rest in the
grave, or when I come to Italy. If only the public will
continue to support me! I lost my chance not dying; there
seems blooming little fear of it now. I worked close on five
hours this morning; the day before, close on nine; and unless
I finish myself off with this letter, I'll have another hour
and a half, or AIBLINS TWA, before dinner. Poor man, how you
must envy me, as you hear of these orgies of work, and you
scarce able for a letter. But Lord, Colvin, how lucky the
situations are not reversed, for I have no situation, nor am
fit for any. Life is a steigh brae. Here, have at Knappe,
and no more clavers!
3RD.
There was never any man had so many irons in the fire, except
Jim Pinkerton. I forgot to mention I have the most gallant
suggestion from Lang, with an offer of MS. authorities, which
turns my brain. It's all about the throne of Poland and
buried treasure in the Mackay country, and Alan Breck can
figure there in glory.
Yesterday, J. and I set off to Blacklock's (American Consul)
who lives not far from that little village I have so often
mentioned as lying between us and Apia. I had some questions
to ask him for my History; thence we must proceed to Vailele,
where I had also to cross-examine the plantation manager
about the battle there. We went by a track I had never
before followed down the hill to Vaisigano, which flows here
in a deep valley, and was unusually full, so that the horses
trembled in the ford. The whole bottom of the valley is full
of various streams posting between strips of forest with a
brave sound of waters. In one place we had a glimpse of a
fall some way higher up, and then sparkling in sunlight in
the midst of the green valley. Then up by a winding path
scarce accessible to a horse for steepness, to the other
side, and the open cocoanut glades of the plantation. Here
we rode fast, did a mighty satisfactory afternoon's work at
the plantation house, and still faster back. On the return
Jack fell with me, but got up again; when I felt him
recovering I gave him his head, and he shoved his foot
through the rein; I got him by the bit however, and all was
well; he had mud over all his face, but his knees were not
broken. We were scarce home when the rain began again; that
was luck. It is pouring now in torrents; we are in the
height of the bad season. Lloyd leaves along with this
letter on a change to San Francisco; he had much need of it,
but I think this will brace him up. I am, as you see, a
tower of strength. I can remember riding not so far and not
near so fast when I first came to Samoa, and being shattered
next day with fatigue; now I could not tell I have done
anything; have re-handled my battle of Fangalii according to
yesterday's information - four pages rewritten; and written
already some half-dozen pages of letters.
I observe with disgust that while of yore, when I own I was
guilty, you never spared me abuse, but now, when I am so
virtuous, where is the praise? Do admit that I have become
an excellent letter-writer - at least to you, and that your
ingratitude is imbecile. - Yours ever,
R. L. S.
CHAPTER XV
JAN 31ST, '92.
MY DEAR COLVIN, - No letter at all from you, and this scratch
from me! Here is a year that opens ill. Lloyd is off to
'the coast' sick - THE COAST means California over most of
the Pacific - I have been down all month with influenza, and
am just recovering - I am overlaid with proofs, which I am
just about half fit to attend to. One of my horses died this
morning, and another is now dying on the front lawn - Lloyd's
horse and Fanny's. Such is my quarrel with destiny. But I
am mending famously, come and go on the balcony, have
perfectly good nights, and though I still cough, have no
oppression and no hemorrhage and no fever. So if I can find
time and courage to add no more, you will know my news is not
altogether of the worst; a year or two ago, and what a state
I should have been in now! Your silence, I own, rather
alarms me. But I tell myself you have just miscarried; had
you been too ill to write, some one would have written me.
Understand, I send this brief scratch not because I am unfit
to write more, but because I have 58 galleys of the WRECKER
and 102 of the BEACH OF FALESA to get overhauled somehow or
other in time for the mail, and for three weeks I have not
touched a pen with my finger.
FEB. 1ST.
The second horse is still alive, but I still think dying.
The first was buried this morning. My proofs are done; it
was a rough two days of it, but done. CONSUMMATUM EST; NA
UMA. I believe the WRECKER ends well; if I know what a good
yarn is, the last four chapters make a good yarn - but pretty
horrible. THE BEACH OF FALESA I still think well of, but it
seems it's immoral and there's a to-do, and financially it
may prove a heavy disappointment. The plaintive request sent
to me, to make the young folks married properly before 'that
night,' I refused; you will see what would be left of the
yarn, had I consented. This is a poison bad world for the
romancer, this Anglo-Saxon world; I usually get out of it by
not having any women in it at all; but when I remember I had
the TREASURE OF FRANCHARD refused as unfit for a family
magazine, I feel despair weigh upon my wrists.
As I know you are always interested in novels, I must tell
you that a new one is now entirely planned. It is to be
called SOPHIA SCARLET, and is in two parts. Part I. The
Vanilla Planter. Part II. The Overseers. No chapters, I
think; just two dense blocks of narrative, the first of which
is purely sentimental, but the second has some rows and
quarrels, and winds up with an explosion, if you please! I
am just burning to get at Sophia, but I MUST do this Samoan
journalism - that's a cursed duty. The first part of Sophia,
bar the first twenty or thirty pages, writes itself; the
second is more difficult, involving a good many characters -
about ten, I think - who have to be kept all moving, and give
the effect of a society. I have three women to handle, out
and well-away! but only Sophia is in full tone. Sophia and
two men, Windermere, the Vanilla Planter, who dies at the end
of Part I., and Rainsforth, who only appears in the beginning
of Part II. The fact is, I blush to own it, but Sophia is a
REGULAR NOVEL; heroine and hero, and false accusation, and
love, and marriage, and all the rest of it - all planted in a
big South Sea plantation run by ex-English officers - A LA
Stewart's plantation in Tahiti. There is a strong
undercurrent of labour trade, which gives it a kind of Uncle
Tom flavour, ABSIT OMEN! The first start is hard; it is hard
to avoid a little tedium here, but I think by beginning with
the arrival of the three Miss Scarlets hot from school and
society in England, I may manage to slide in the information.
The problem is exactly a Balzac one, and I wish I had his
fist - for I have already a better method - the kinetic,
whereas he continually allowed himself to be led into the
static. But then he had the fist, and the most I can hope is
to get out of it with a modicum of grace and energy, but for
sure without the strong impression, the full, dark brush.
Three people have had it, the real creator's brush: Scott,
see much of THE ANTIQUARY and THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN
(especially all round the trial, before, during, and after) -
Balzac - and Thackeray in VANITY FAIR. Everybody else either
paints THIN, or has to stop to paint, or paints excitedly, so
that you see the author skipping before his canvas. Here is
a long way from poor Sophia Scarlet!
This day is published
SOPHIA SCARLET
By
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
CHAPTER XVI
FEB. 1892.
MY DEAR COLVIN, - This has been a busyish month for a sick
man. First, Faauma - the bronze candlestick, whom otherwise
I called my butler - bolted from the bed and bosom of
Lafaele, the Archangel Hercules, prefect of the cattle.
There was the deuce to pay, and Hercules was inconsolable,
and immediately started out after a new wife, and has had one
up on a visit, but says she has 'no conversation'; and I
think he will take back the erring and possibly repentant
candlestick; whom we all devoutly prefer, as she is not only
highly decorative, but good-natured, and if she does little
work makes no rows. I tell this lightly, but it really was a
heavy business; many were accused of complicity, and Rafael
was really very sorry. I had to hold beds of justice -
literally - seated in my bed and surrounded by lying Samoans
seated on the floor; and there were many picturesque and
still inexplicable passages. It is hard to reach the truth
in these islands.
The next incident overlapped with this. S. and Fanny found
three strange horses in the paddock: for long now the boys
have been forbidden to leave their horses here one hour
because our grass is over-grazed. S. came up with the news,
and I saw I must now strike a blow. 'To the pound with the
lot,' said I. He proposed taking the three himself, but I
thought that too dangerous an experiment, said I should go
too, and hurried into my boots so as to show decision taken,
in the necessary interviews. They came of course - the
interviews - and I explained what I was going to do at huge
length, and stuck to my guns. I am glad to say the natives,
with their usual (purely speculative) sense of justice highly
approved the step after reflection. Meanwhile off went S.
and I with the three CORPORA DELICTI; and a good job I went!
Once, when our circus began to kick, we thought all was up;
but we got them down all sound in wind and limb. I judged I
was much fallen off from my Elliott forefathers, who managed
this class of business with neatness and despatch. Half-way
down it came on to rain tropic style, and I came back from my
outing drenched liked a drowned man - I was literally blinded
as I came back among these sheets of water; and the
consequence was I was laid down with diarrhoea and
threatenings of Samoa colic for the inside of another week.
I have a confession to make. When I was sick I tried to get
to work to finish that Samoa thing, wouldn't go; and at last,
in the colic time, I slid off into DAVID BALFOUR, some 50
pages of which are drafted, and like me well. Really I think
it is spirited; and there's a heroine that (up to now) seems
to have attractions: ABSIT OMEN! David, on the whole, seems
excellent. Alan does not come in till the tenth chapter, and
I am only at the eighth, so I don't know if I can find him
again; but David is on his feet, and doing well, and very
much in love, and mixed up with the Lord Advocate and the
(untitled) Lord Lovat, and all manner of great folk. And the
tale interferes with my eating and sleeping. The join is
bad; I have not thought to strain too much for continuity; so
this part be alive, I shall be content. But there's no doubt
David seems to have changed his style, de'il ha'e him! And
much I care, if the tale travel!
FRIDAY, FEB. ?? 19TH?
Two incidents to-day which I must narrate. After lunch, it
was raining pitilessly; we were sitting in my mother's
bedroom, and I was reading aloud Kinglake's Charge of the
Light Brigade, and we had just been all seized by the horses
aligning with Lord George Paget, when a figure appeared on
the verandah; a little, slim, small figure of a lad, with
blond (I.E. limed) hair, a propitiatory smile, and a nose
that alone of all his features grew pale with anxiety. 'I
come here stop,' was about the outside of his English; and I
began at once to guess that he was a runaway labourer, and
that the bush-knife in his hand was stolen. It proved he had
a mate, who had lacked his courage, and was hidden down the
road; they had both made up their minds to run away, and had
'come here stop.' I could not turn out the poor rogues, one
of whom showed me marks on his back, into the drenching
forest; I could not reason with them, for they had not enough
English, and not one of our boys spoke their tongue; so I
bade them feed and sleep here to-night, and to-morrow I must
do what the Lord shall bid me.
Near dinner time, I was told that a friend of Lafaele's had
found human remains in my bush. After dinner, a figure was
seen skulking across towards the waterfall, which produced
from the verandah a shout, in my most stentorian tones: 'O AI
LE INGOA?' literally 'Who the name?' which serves here for
'What's your business?' as well. It proved to be Lafaele's
friend; I bade a kitchen boy, Lauilo, go with him to see the
spot, for though it had ceased raining, the whole island ran
and dripped. Lauilo was willing enough, but the friend of
the archangel demurred; he had too much business; he had no
time. 'All right,' I said, 'you too much frightened, I go
along,' which of course produced the usual shout of delight
from all those who did not require to go. I got into my
Saranac snow boots. Lauilo got a cutlass; Mary Carter, our
Sydney maid, joined the party for a lark, and off we set. I
tell you our guide kept us moving; for the dusk fell swift.
Our woods have an infamous reputation at the best, and our
errand (to say the least of it) was grisly. At last 'they
found the remains; they were old, which was all I cared to be
sure of; it seemed a strangely small 'pickle-banes' to stand
for a big, flourishing, buck-islander, and their situation in
the darkening and dripping bush was melancholy. All at once,
I found there was a second skull, with a bullet-hole I could
have stuck my two thumbs in - say anybody else's one thumb.
My Samoans said it could not be, there were not enough bones;
I put the two pieces of skull together, and at last convinced
them. Whereupon, in a flash, they found the not unromantic
explanation. This poor brave had succeeded in the height of
a Samoan warriors ambition; he had taken a head, which he was
never destined to show to his applauding camp. Wounded
himself, he had crept here into the bush to die with his
useless trophy by his side. His date would be about fifteen
years ago, in the great battle between Laupepa and Talavou,
which took place on My Land, Sir. To-morrow we shall bury
the bones and fire a salute in honour of unfortunate courage.
Do you think I have an empty life? or that a man jogging to
his club has so much to interest and amuse him? - touch and
try him too, but that goes along with the others: no pain, no
pleasure, is the iron law. So here I stop again, and leave,
as I left yesterday, my political business untouched. And
lo! here comes my pupil, I believe, so I stop in time.
MARCH 2ND.
Since I last wrote, fifteen chapters of DAVID BALFOUR have
been drafted, and five TIRES AU CLAIR. I think it pretty
good; there's a blooming maiden that costs anxiety - she is
as virginal as billy; but David seems there and alive, and
the Lord Advocate is good, and so I think is an episodic
appearance of the Master of Lovat. In Chapter XVII. I shall
get David abroad - Alan went already in Chapter XII. The
book should be about the length of KIDNAPPED; this early part
of it, about D.'s evidence in the Appin case, is more of a
story than anything in KIDNAPPED, but there is no doubt there
comes a break in the middle, and the tale is practically in
two divisions. In the first James More and the M'Gregors,
and Catriona, only show; in the second, the Appin case being
disposed of, and James Stewart hung, they rule the roast and
usurp the interest - should there be any left. Why did I
take up DAVID BALFOUR? I don't know. A sudden passion.
Monday, I went down in the rain with a colic to take the
chair at a public meeting; dined with Haggard; sailed off to
my meeting, and fought with wild beasts for three anxious
hours. All was lost that any sensible man cared for, but the
meeting did not break up - thanks a good deal to R. L. S. -
and the man who opposed my election, and with whom I was all
the time wrangling, proposed the vote of thanks to me with a
certain handsomeness; I assure you I had earned it . . .
Haggard and the great Abdul, his high-caste Indian servant,
imported by my wife, were sitting up for me with supper, and
I suppose it was twelve before I got to bed. Tuesday
raining, my mother rode down, and we went to the Consulate to
sign a Factory and Commission. Thence, I to the lawyers, to
the printing office, and to the Mission. It was dinner time
when I returned home.
This morning, our cook-boy having suddenly left - injured
feelings - the archangel was to cook breakfast. I found him
lighting the fire before dawn; his eyes blazed, he had no
word of any language left to use, and I saw in him (to my
wonder) the strongest workings of gratified ambition.
Napoleon was no more pleased to sign his first treaty with
Austria than was Lafaele to cook that breakfast. All
morning, when I had hoped to be at this letter, I slept like
one drugged and you must take this (which is all I can give
you) for what it is worth -
D.B.
MEMOIRS OF HIS ADVENTURES AT HOME AND ABROAD. THE SECOND
PART; WHEREIN ARE SET FORTH THE MISFORTUNES IN WHICH HE WAS
INVOLVED UPON THE APPIN MURDER; HIS TROUBLES WITH LORD
ADVOCATE PRESTONGRANGE; CAPTIVITY ON THE BASS ROCK; JOURNEY
INTO FRANCE AND HOLLAND; AND SINGULAR RELATIONS WITH JAMES
MORE DRUMMOND OR MACGREGOR, A SON OF THE NOTORIOUS ROB ROY.
Chapters. - I. A Beggar on Horseback. II. The Highland
Writer. III. I go to Pilrig. IV. Lord Advocate
Prestongrange. V. Butter and Thunder. VI. I make a fault in
honour. VII. The Bravo. VIII. The Heather on Fire. IX. I
begin to be haunted with a red-headed man. X. The Wood by
Silvermills. XI. On the march again with Alan. XII. Gillane
Sands. XIII. The Bass Rock. XIV. Black Andie's Tale of Tod
Lapraik. XV. I go to Inveraray.
That is it, as far as drafted. Chapters IV. V. VII. IX. and
XIV. I am specially pleased with; the last being an
episodical bogie story about the Bass Rock told there by the
Keeper.
CHAPTER XVII
MARCH 9TH.
MY DEAR S. C., - Take it not amiss if this is a wretched
letter. I am eaten up with business. Every day this week I
have had some business impediment - I am even now waiting a
deputation of chiefs about the road - and my precious morning
was shattered by a polite old scourge of a FAIPULE -
parliament man - come begging. All the time DAVID BALFOUR is
skelping along. I began it the 13th of last month; I have
now 12 chapters, 79 pages ready for press, or within an ace,
and, by the time the month is out, one-half should be
completed, and I'll be back at drafting the second half.
What makes me sick is to think of Scott turning out GUY
MANNERING in three weeks! What a pull of work: heavens, what
thews and sinews! And here am I, my head spinning from
having only re-written seven not very difficult pages - and
not very good when done. Weakling generation. It makes me
sick of myself, to make such a fash and bobbery over a rotten
end of an old nursery yarn, not worth spitting on when done.
Still, there is no doubt I turn out my work more easily than
of yore, and I suppose I should be singly glad of that. And
if I got my book done in six weeks, seeing it will be about
half as long as a Scott, and I have to write everything
twice, it would be about the same rate of industry. It is my
fair intention to be done with it in three months, which
would make me about one-half the man Sir Walter was for
application and driving the dull pen. Of the merit we shall
not talk; but I don't think Davie is WITHOUT merit.
MARCH 12TH.
And I have this day triumphantly finished 15 chapters, 100
pages - being exactly one-half (as near as anybody can guess)
of DAVID BALFOUR; the book to be about a fifth as long again
(altogether) as TREASURE ISLAND: could I but do the second
half in another month! But I can't, I fear; I shall have
some belated material arriving by next mail, and must go
again at the History. Is it not characteristic of my broken
tenacity of mind, that I should have left Davie Balfour some
five years in the British Linen Company's Office, and then
follow him at last with such vivacity? But I leave you
again; the last (15th) chapter ought to be re-wrote, or part
of it, and I want the half completed in the month, and the
month is out by midnight; though, to be sure, last month was
February, and I might take grace. These notes are only to
show I hold you in mind, though I know they can have no
interest for man or God or animal.
I should have told you about the Club. We have been asked to
try and start a sort of weekly ball for the half-castes and
natives, ourselves to be the only whites; and we consented,
from a very heavy sense of duty, and with not much hope. Two
nights ago we had twenty people up, received them in the
front verandah, entertained them on cake and lemonade, and I
made a speech - embodying our proposals, or conditions, if
you like - for I suppose thirty minutes. No joke to speak to
such an audience, but it is believed I was thoroughly
intelligible. I took the plan of saying everything at least
twice in a different form of words, so that if the one
escaped my hearers, the other might be seized. One white man
came with his wife, and was kept rigorously on the front
verandah below! You see what a sea of troubles this is like
to prove; but it is the only chance - and when it blows up,
it must blow up! I have no more hope in anything than a dead
frog; I go into everything with a composed despair, and don't
mind - just as I always go to sea with the conviction I am to
be drowned, and like it before all other pleasures. But you
should have seen the return voyage, when nineteen horses had
to be found in the dark, and nineteen bridles, all in a
drench of rain, and the club, just constituted as such,
sailed away in the wet, under a cloudy moon like a bad
shilling, and to descend a road through the forest that was
at that moment the image of a respectable mountain brook. My
wife, who is president WITH POWER TO EXPEL, had to begin her
functions. . . .
25TH MARCH.
Heaven knows what day it is, but I am ashamed, all the more
as your letter from Bournemouth of all places - poor old
Bournemouth! - is to hand, and contains a statement of
pleasure in my letters which I wish I could have rewarded
with a long one. What has gone on? A vast of affairs, of a
mingled, strenuous, inconclusive, desultory character; much
waste of time, much riding to and fro, and little transacted
or at least peracted.
Let me give you a review of the present state of our live
stock. - Six boys in the bush; six souls about the house.
Talolo, the cook, returns again to-day, after an absence
which has cost me about twelve hours of riding, and I suppose
eight hours' solemn sitting in council. 'I am sorry indeed
for the Chief Justice of Samoa,' I said; 'it is more than I
am fit for to be Chief Justice of Vailima.' - Lauilo is
steward. Both these are excellent servants; we gave a
luncheon party when we buried the Samoan bones, and I assure
you all was in good style, yet we never interfered. The food
was good, the wine and dishes went round as by mechanism. -
Steward's assistant and washman Arrick, a New Hebridee black
boy, hired from the German firm; not so ugly as most, but not
pretty neither; not so dull as his sort are, but not quite a
Crichton. When he came first, he ate so much of our good
food that he got a prominent belly. Kitchen assistant, Tomas
(Thomas in English), a Fiji man, very tall and handsome,
moving like a marionette with sudden bounds, and rolling his
eyes with sudden effort. - Washerwoman and precentor, Helen,
Tomas's wife. This is our weak point; we are ashamed of
Helen; the cook-house blushes for her; they murmur there at
her presence. She seems all right; she is not a bad-looking,
strapping wench, seems chaste, is industrious, has an
excellent taste in hymns - you should have heard her read one
aloud the other day, she marked the rhythm with so much
gloating, dissenter sentiment. What is wrong, then? says
you. Low in your ear - and don't let the papers get hold of
it - she is of no family. None, they say; literally a common
woman. Of course, we have out-islanders, who MAY be
villeins; but we give them the benefit of the doubt, which is
impossible with Helen of Vailima; our blot, our pitted speck.
The pitted speck I have said is our precentor. It is always
a woman who starts Samoan song; the men who sing second do
not enter for a bar or two. Poor, dear Faauma, the unchaste,
the extruded Eve of our Paradise, knew only two hymns; but
Helen seems to know the whole repertory, and the morning
prayers go far more lively in consequence. - Lafaele, provost
of the cattle. The cattle are Jack, my horse, quite
converted, my wife rides him now, and he is as steady as a
doctor's cob; Tifaga Jack, a circus horse, my mother's
piebald, bought from a passing circus; Belle's mare, now in
childbed or next door, confound the slut! Musu - amusingly
translated the other day 'don't want to,' literally cross,
but always in the sense of stubbornness and resistance - my
wife's little dark-brown mare, with a white star on her
forehead, whom I have been riding of late to steady her - she
has no vices, but is unused, skittish and uneasy, and wants a
lot of attention and humouring; lastly (of saddle horses)
Luna - not the Latin MOON, the Hawaiian OVERSEER, but it's
pronounced the same - a pretty little mare too, but scarce at
all broken, a bad bucker, and has to be ridden with a stock-
whip and be brought back with her rump criss-crossed like a
clan tartan; the two cart horses, now only used with pack-
saddles; two cows, one in the straw (I trust) to-morrow, a
third cow, the Jersey - whose milk and temper are alike
subjects of admiration - she gives good exercise to the
farming saunterer, and refreshes him on his return with
cream; two calves, a bull, and a cow; God knows how many
ducks and chickens, and for a wager not even God knows how
many cats; twelve horses, seven horses, five kine: is not
this Babylon the Great which I have builded? Call it
SUBPRIORSFORD.
Two nights ago the club had its first meeting; only twelve
were present, but it went very well. I was not there, I had
ridden down the night before after dinner on my endless
business, took a cup of tea in the Mission like an ass, then
took a cup of coffee like a fool at Haggard's, then fell into
a discussion with the American Consul . . . I went to bed at
Haggard's, came suddenly broad awake, and lay sleepless the
live night. It fell chill, I had only a sheet, and had to
make a light and range the house for a cover - I found one in
the hall, a macintosh. So back to my sleepless bed, and to
lie there till dawn. In the morning I had a longish ride to
take in a day of a blinding, staggering sun, and got home by
eleven, our luncheon hour, with my head rather swimmy; the
only time I have FEARED the sun since I was in Samoa.
However, I got no harm, but did not go to the club, lay off,
lazied, played the pipe, and read - a novel by James Payn -
sometimes quite interesting, and in one place really very
funny with the quaint humour of the man. Much interested the
other day. As I rode past a house, I saw where a Samoan had
written a word on a board, and there was an A, perfectly
formed, but upside down. You never saw such a thing in
Europe; but it is as common as dirt in Polynesia. Men's
names are tattooed on the forearm; it is common to find a
subverted letter tattooed there. Here is a tempting problem
for psychologists.
I am now on terms again with the German Consulate, I know not
for how long; not, of course, with the President, which I
find a relief; still, with the Chief Justice and the English
Consul. For Haggard, I have a genuine affection; he is a
loveable man.
Wearyful man! 'Here is the yarn of Loudon Dodd, NOT AS HE
TOLD IT, BUT AS IT WAS AFTERWARDS WRITTEN.' These words were
left out by some carelessness, and I think I have been thrice
tackled about them. Grave them in your mind and wear them on
your forehead.
The Lang story will have very little about the treasure; THE
MASTER will appear; and it is to a great extent a tale of
Prince Charlie AFTER the '45, and a love story forbye: the
hero is a melancholy exile, and marries a young woman who
interests the prince, and there is the devil to pay. I think
the Master kills him in a duel, but don't know yet, not
having yet seen my second heroine. No - the Master doesn't
kill him, they fight, he is wounded, and the Master plays
DEUS EX MACHINA. I THINK just now of calling it THE TAIL OF
THE RACE; no - heavens! I never saw till this moment - but
of course nobody but myself would ever understand Mill-Race,
they would think of a quarter-mile. So - I am nameless
again. My melancholy young man is to be quite a Romeo. Yes,
I'll name the book from him: DYCE OF YTHAN - pronounce
Eethan.
Dyce of Ythan
by R. L. S.
O, Shovel - Shovel waits his turn, he and his ancestors. I
would have tackled him before, but my STATE TRIALS have never
come. So that I have now quite planned:-
Dyce of Ythan. (Historical, 1750.)
Sophia Scarlet. (To-day.)
The Shovels of Newton French. (Historical, 1650 to 1830.)
And quite planned and part written:-
The Pearl Fisher. (To-day.) (With Lloyd a machine.)
David Balfour. (Historical, 1751.)
And, by a strange exception for R. L. S., all in the third
person except D. B.
I don't know what day this is now (the 29th), but I have
finished my two chapters, ninth and tenth, of SAMOA in time
for the mail, and feel almost at peace. The tenth was the
hurricane, a difficult problem; it so tempted one to be
literary; and I feel sure the less of that there is in my
little handbook, the more chance it has of some utility.
Then the events are complicated, seven ships to tell of, and
sometimes three of them together; O, it was quite a job. But
I think I have my facts pretty correct, and for once, in my
sickening yarn, they are handsome facts: creditable to all
concerned; not to be written of - and I should think, scarce
to be read - without a thrill. I doubt I have got no
hurricane into it, the intricacies of the yarn absorbing me
too much. But there - it's done somehow, and time presses
hard on my heels. The book, with my best expedition, may
come just too late to be of use. In which case I shall have
made a handsome present of some months of my life for nothing
and to nobody. Well, through Her the most ancient heavens
are fresh and strong.
30TH.
After I had written you, I re-read my hurricane, which is
very poor; the life of the journalist is hard, another couple
of writings and I could make a good thing, I believe, and it
must go as it is! But, of course, this book is not written
for honour and glory, and the few who will read it may not
know the difference. Very little time. I go down with the
mail shortly, dine at the Chinese restaurant, and go to the
club to dance with islandresses. Think of my going out once
a week to dance.
Politics are on the full job again, and we don't know what is
to come next. I think the whole treaty RAJ seems quite
played out! They have taken to bribing the FAIPULE men
(parliament men) to stay in Mulinuu, we hear; but I have not
yet sifted the rumour. I must say I shall be scarce
surprised if it prove true; these rumours have the knack of
being right. - Our weather this last month has been
tremendously hot, not by the thermometer, which sticks at 86
degrees, but to the sensation: no rain, no wind, and this the
storm month. It looks ominous, and is certainly
disagreeable.
No time to finish,
Yours ever,
R. L. S.
CHAPTER XVIII
MAY 1ST. 1892.
MY DEAR COLVIN, - As I rode down last night about six, I saw
a sight I must try to tell you of. In front of me, right
over the top of the forest into which I was descending was a
vast cloud. The front of it accurately represented the
somewhat rugged, long-nosed, and beetle-browed profile of a
man, crowned by a huge Kalmuck cap; the flesh part was of a
heavenly pink, the cap, the moustache, the eyebrows were of a
bluish gray; to see this with its childish exactitude of
design and colour, and hugeness of scale - it covered at
least 25 degrees - held me spellbound. As I continued to
gaze, the expression began to change; he had the exact air of
closing one eye, dropping his jaw, and drawing down his nose;
had the thing not been so imposing, I could have smiled; and
then almost in a moment, a shoulder of leaden-coloured bank
drove in front and blotted it. My attention spread to the
rest of the cloud, and it was a thing to worship. It rose
from the horizon, and its top was within thirty degrees of
the zenith; the lower parts were like a glacier in shadow,
varying from dark indigo to a clouded white in exquisite
gradations. The sky behind, so far as I could see, was all
of a blue already enriched and darkened by the night, for the
hill had what lingered of the sunset. But the top of my
Titanic cloud flamed in broad sunlight, with the most
excellent softness and brightness of fire and jewels,
enlightening all the world. It must have been far higher
than Mount Everest, and its glory, as I gazed up at it out of
the night, was beyond wonder. Close by rode the little
crescent moon; and right over its western horn, a great
planet of about equal lustre with itself. The dark woods
below were shrill with that noisy business of the birds'
evening worship. When I returned, after eight, the moon was
near down; she seemed little brighter than before, but now
that the cloud no longer played its part of a nocturnal sun,
we could see that sight, so rare with us at home that it was
counted a portent, so customary in the tropics, of the dark
sphere with its little gilt band upon the belly. The planet
had been setting faster, and was now below the crescent.
They were still of an equal brightness.
I could not resist trying to reproduce this in words, as a
specimen of these incredibly beautiful and imposing meteors
of the tropic sky that make so much of my pleasure here;
though a ship's deck is the place to enjoy them. O what
AWFUL scenery, from a ship's deck, in the tropics! People
talk about the Alps, but the clouds of the trade wind are
alone for sublimity.
Now to try and tell you what has been happening. The state
of these islands, and of Mataafa and Laupepa (Malietoa's
AMBO) had been much on my mind. I went to the priests and
sent a message to Mataafa, at a time when it was supposed he
was about to act. He did not act, delaying in true native
style, and I determined I should go to visit him. I have
been very good not to go sooner; to live within a few miles
of a rebel camp, to be a novelist, to have all my family
forcing me to go, and to refrain all these months, counts for
virtue. But hearing that several people had gone and the
government done nothing to punish them, and having an errand
there which was enough to justify myself in my own eyes, I
half determined to go, and spoke of it with the half-caste
priest. And here (confound it) up came Laupepa and his
guards to call on me; we kept him to lunch, and the old
gentleman was very good and amiable. He asked me why I had
not been to see him? I reminded him a law had been made, and
told him I was not a small boy to go and ask leave of the
consuls, and perhaps be refused. He told me to pay no
attention to the law but come when I would, and begged me to
name a day to lunch. The next day (I think it was) early in
the morning, a man appeared; he had metal buttons like a
policeman - but he was none of our Apia force; he was a rebel
policeman, and had been all night coming round inland through
the forest from Malie. He brought a letter addressed
