Mr. Fortune (20 page)

They had grown accustomed to him but they had not assimilated him; and his odd ways they had taken as something quite natural since he himself was an oddity. His departure would affect them much as if a star had fallen out of their sky: that is to say, it wouldn't really affect them at all. There were once three stars where now you see two: there was once a white man with a magic box which groaned when he trampled it who came to Fanua. In the course of time the few remaining people who had seen the lost star would brag a little about its superior size and lustre, saying that there were no such stars in these days; and similarly in times to come a black and white being ten foot high and able to speak in a voice of thunder for seven days and seven nights might haunt the groves of Fanua. The ginger-nuts, they too might be commemorated in the fact that he fed men with red-hot pebbles. All he hoped was that they would not use him to frighten children with. But alas! he was fooling himself. There would soon be plenty of white men to frighten the children of Fanua, to bring them galvanised iron and law-courts and commerce and industry and bicycles and patent medicines and American alarm clocks, besides the blessing of religion. The island could not hope to keep its innocence much longer. Had he not come, a single spy? And soon there would come battalions. Poor islanders! He almost said: “Poor flock!” Well, to-morrow he must bid them good-bye, and to-morrow too, before he bade farewell to the rest, he must say: “I am going away, Lueli, I am going away for ever.”

And then—
suppose the launch didn't come?
Suppose that the earthquake at Fanua had been but a ripple of an enormous earthquake which had swallowed up St. Fabien?

It would not do to fancy such things. He got up and walked out of the hut. Lueli was gone and had taken his god with him; maybe he had carried him off to the little copse where he had cherished the old one. Absently Mr. Fortune sat down on the altar. His hand touched something cold and flabby. It was the garland of red flowers which he had woven in order to give the idol a more festive and Christmas-tree appearance—for a present is a present twice over if it be tied up prettily. He smiled, and hung it round his neck.

He was still sitting on the altar when Lueli came strolling back for supper. He came singing to himself, and as he walked he tossed a couple of small fish from hand to hand.

“Why didn't you come and bathe too? Look! I caught these in my fingers.”

“How beautiful they are!”

They were silvery fish with black and vermilion markings and rose-coloured fins. Their strange blue eyes were yet bright, and they retained the suppleness and shine of life. One does not admire things enough: and worst of all, one allows whole days to slip by without once pausing to see an object, any object, exactly as it is.

“We will have them for supper,” he said. “I am sorry that I forgot to come bathing. But I'll tell you what. There will be a moon to-night, we might bathe after supper by moonlight. Unless you want to go down to the village.”

“No. It would be a lark to bathe.”

The night was so mild that after bathing they lounged on the rocks, dangling their legs in the water, which felt even more surprisingly tepid because its black and silver pattern looked so cold. The ledge where they sat was padded with the soft tough growth of sea-plants. Out on the reef some gulls were complaining.

The shadow hid his own face but Lueli sat in full moonlight. It was a good moment to speak.

“Lueli, I am going away from Fanua.”

There would be no need to add: “I am going away for ever.” Somehow, from the tone of his voice or by some curious sympathy, Lueli had guessed. He started so violently that he lost his balance and slipped off the rock. He swam a few strokes out into the pool and then turned and came back again and caught hold of Mr. Fortune's knees to moor himself.

“But if you go you will leave me,” he said, lying along the water and looking up into his friend's face. “Don't go!”

“I must, my dear. It is time.”

“Are you going back to your own country?”

“Yes. I expect so. Anyhow, I must go. A boat will come for me, the same boat which brought me when I came to the island. Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps the day after.”

“Not to-morrow!” Lueli cried out, his face suddenly convulsed with distress.

Mr. Fortune nodded.

“To-morrow or the next day.”

“But why do you only tell me now? Now there will be no time to do anything, I can't even make you a pipe. Stay longer! Stay even a little longer! I thought you would stay for ever.”

“I'm sorry if I have left it too late. I did it for the best. I didn't want to spoil our last days.”

“But when did you know that you would go away?”

“A long time ago. A bird——” He stopped. It would not do to tell Lueli what the bird had said to him. He would not understand, he was incapable of understanding, because he was incapable of feeling that sad, civilised, and proprietary love which is anxious and predatory and spoil-sport. Even now, despite his distress at hearing that his friend was about to leave him, he wasn't attempting to interfere or to do anything about it.

“Lueli, you know how sorry I am to be leaving you. I will not speak of it much, I don't think we need upset each other by telling our feelings. We know them already. But I have one consolation. I am not leaving a weakling, some one that I should have to feel uneasy about. When I think of you, as I shall do constantly, it will be with admiration and confidence.”

He looked down at the face raised towards his. Affection, grief, the most entire attention were depicted thereon; but for all these Lueli's countenance still kept its slightly satirical air. And this, because it was the expression most essentially and characteristically his, the aspect that nature had given him, was dearest of all.

“When I came here you were still almost a child. How the three years have changed you! You are as tall as I am now, and a great deal stronger. You are almost as strong as Kaulu whom you used to tell me about—Kaulu the strong boy, who broke the waves with his hands and forced open the jaws of the King Shark who had swallowed his brother. And you are intelligent too, and as you grow older you will become more so. Perhaps you may become as wise and prudent as Kana, who rescued the sun and moon and stars and put them back into the sky. And when he held up the sun the cock crowed. Do you remember telling me that? And as for charm—why, I think you the most popular young man on the island and the best-loved. It delights me to see it.”

“You flatter me,” answered Lueli in a pleased voice.

Then he sighed. “I wish you were not going,” he said. “I shall miss you. I shall miss you terribly. Oh, why must you leave me?” And he hung his head and kicked his heels disconsolately.

The water splashed up, drops of spray fell on Mr. Fortune. He shivered, but it was not the falling spray which chilled him. What could he say, how was he to comfort this child?

“Do you remember how I used to tell you about my God?”

“Yes, of course I remember.”

“I haven't spoken of Him lately, and perhaps you have noticed that.”

“Yes.”

“Well, the reason why I didn't speak of Him was—I have lost Him. I lost Him on the same night that you lost yours, the night of the earthquake. No!”—Lueli had made a sudden movement of inquiry. “He wasn't anything in the hut, He wasn't any of the things that were burnt. He wasn't the kind of God that could be burnt. But He was the kind of God that could perfectly well be lost; and, as I say, I have lost Him.”

“But perhaps you will find Him, perhaps He will come back. I—my god——”

Lueli's voice sank into a warm cautious silence, the silence of a lover.

Mr. Fortune put out a hand and stroked the wet head.

“No. I am quite sure I shall never find Him. But I have no doubt He is somewhere around, and that is why I am telling you of my loss. Because, you see, when I go I shall leave Him behind; my God will remain here on the island where I lost Him. And while He remains, a part of me will remain too. I do not leave you utterly.”

“Like a keepsake?” ventured Lueli after thinking it over.

“Yes. Like a keepsake. But rather more than a keepsake. Almost like leaving part of myself.”

“Yes. I think I understand.”

“So now do you feel happier?”

“Not now. But I shall later on.”

It had not been anywhere near as bad as he had dreaded that it would be. It had even been a rather comfortable conversation, and one that he would be able to look back upon with kindness.

The next day, the last day, was spent in packing and leave-taking. The news of his approaching departure was received with genuine regret, and from every one he met with such kind concern that it would have been impossible not to feel gratified even if he had wished to be above that sort of feeling. Ori, Teioa, and the other important islanders got up a farewell feast in his honour. Speeches were made, his health was drunk, and afterwards Mr. Fortune sat on the best mats, flushed with praise and wearing as many garlands as a May Queen or a coffin, while presentations were made to him. A necklace of carved sharks'-teeth, bracelets of scented nuts, mother-of-pearl earrings, several pipes, spears, paddles, and carved walking-sticks, rolls of tapa and fine mats, coloured baskets, polished bowls, sweetmeats and cosmetics, several remembrance-knots of curiously plaited hair, and charms of all sorts—these were piled up on his lap and all around him. Only Lueli brought no gift. He sat beside him, examining and praising the gifts of the others and pointing out their beauties.

“I do hope he isn't feeling out of it because he has brought no present,” thought Mr. Fortune. “My blessed child, he is too generous to have anything left to give. But I can't bear to think that he might be put out of countenance. I could almost wish——”

At that moment he became aware that Lueli was no longer by his side. The conversation suddenly died down, there was a conscious, premonitory pause and people were looking towards the door of the house. They wriggled to either side, opening a sort of lane. And then Lueli stepped over the threshold, carrying a resplendent head-dress of straw-coloured and scarlet feathers.

Walking solemnly, with a rapt and formal face, he advanced down the lane, bearing on high the softly-waving and coloured crown, till with a deep bow he laid the head-dress at Mr. Fortune's feet.

“But, Lueli!” exclaimed Mr. Fortune, too much overcome for words of thanks. “This lovely thing, this marvellous thing! Is it—can it be——?”

“Lueli is your especial friend,” said Ori. “It is right that he should make you the best gift.”

There was a loud hum of approval. Mr. Fortune raised the head-dress, admired it all round, and put it on. The hum of approval swelled into acclamations and loud cheers.

Then it was Mr. Fortune's turn to produce gifts. He had spent most of the forenoon going over his possessions, such as they were, and in between spells of working on the idol he had contrived to make an assortment of pipe-stoppers, tooth-picks, bodkins, and such-like small items. With these and the mother-of-pearl counters and almost all his buttons he was enabled to produce a tolerable array; and though he apologised a great deal over their inadequacy there was no need to apologise, for the recipients were overjoyed with objects so distinguished and far-fetched.

The knife, at once his most personal and valuable possession, was naturally for Lueli, and so was his pipe. Ori received the magnifying-glass and his two sons the whistle and the flint-and-steel lighter respectively. To Teioa he presented the magnet and to Mrs. Teioa the medicine spoon. Lueli's mother went into fits of rapture over the measuring-tape; Tekea, a handsome, rather taciturn fellow, who had helped a great deal with the new hut, was much gratified by the nail-file; the Parnell medal was hung round Fuma's neck and the pencil-case round Vaili's. The pencil-sharpener he gave to Lei-lei, village sorceress, doctoress, and midwife, who declared that it would be an invaluable asset. At the last moment he remembered Hina, the old story-teller. He gave her the wash-leather bag.

After songs and dances the party broke up at a late hour; and still wearing his crown Mr. Fortune walked home with Lueli by moonlight. The other gifts he had left behind, for Ori had undertaken to see that they were packed properly, ready for the morrow. A night bird was calling among the trees—a soft breathy note like an alto flute—and the roof of the hut shone in the moonlight.

“Will you go on living here, Lueli?”

“Of course. Where else should I like to live so well?”

“I am glad. I shall know how to picture you when I am thinking of you.”

“When I think of you I shall not know where you are.”

“Think of me here.”

As a result of the party they overslept themselves, and they were still breakfasting when Tekea came running up to say that the launch had been sighted. Mr. Fortune became a man of action. He knew instantly that no one from St. Fabien could be allowed to set foot on his island. He gave instructions to Tekea accordingly: a canoe might go out to the reef to keep them in play, but no one was to be taken off the launch on any account.

“What shall I tell them,” asked Tekea, “if they want to land?”

“Tell them——” What could they be told? Small-pox, tigers, taboos, hornets in swarm; he ran over a few pretexts but nothing seemed quite suitable. “Tell them,” he said, “tell them I say so. By the way, you might take them out a few bananas.”

Tekea grinned. He was an understanding fellow. He ran back to the village while Mr. Fortune and Lueli followed at a more leisurely pace. There was nothing to delay them: Mr. Fortune was already dressed in his European clothes, and the feather head-dress was carefully packed in a large leafy frail. Just as they were crossing the dell he stopped. “Wait a minute,” he said, “we never washed up the breakfast things.”