"It was after that that we were very proud.We had fought many times with the strange white men who live upon the sea, and always we had beaten them.A few of us were killed, but what was that compared with the stores of wealth of a thousand thousand kinds that we found on the ships? And then one day, maybe twenty years ago, or twenty-five, there came a schooner right through the passage and into the lagoon.It was a large schooner with three masts.She had five white men and maybe forty boat's crew, black fellows from New Guinea and New Britain; and she had come to fish beche-de-mer.She lay at anchor across the lagoon from here, at Pauloo, and her boats scattered out everywhere, making camps on the beaches where they cured the beche-de-mer.This made them weak by dividing them, for those who fished here and those on the schooner at Pauloo were fifty miles apart, and there were others farther away still.
"Our king and headmen held council, and I was one in the canoe that paddled all afternoon and all night across the lagoon, bringing word to the people of Pauloo that in the morning we would attack the fishing camps at the one time and that it was for them to take the schooner.We who brought the word were tired with the paddling, but we took part in the attack.On the schooner were two white men, the skipper and the second mate, with half a dozen black boys.The skipper with three boys we caught on shore and killed, but first eight of us the skipper killed with his two revolvers.We fought close together, you see, at hand grapples.
"The noise of our fighting told the mate what was happening, and he put food and water and a sail in the small dingy, which was so small that it was no more than twelve feet long.We came down upon the schooner, athousand men, covering the lagoon with our canoes.Also, we were blowing conch shells, singing war songs, and striking the sides of the canoes with our paddles.What chance had one white man and three black boys against us? No chance at all, and the mate knew it.
"White men are hell.I have watched them much, and I am an old man now, and I understand at last why the white men have taken to themselves all the islands in the sea.It is because they are hell.Here are you in the canoe with me.You are hardly more than a boy.You are not wise, for each day I tell you many things you do not know.When I was a little pickaninny, I knew more about fish and the ways of fish than you know now.I am an old man, but I swim down to the bottom of the lagoon, and you cannot follow me.What are you good for, anyway? I do not know, except to fight.I have never seen you fight, yet I know that you are like your brothers and that you will fight like hell.Also, you are a fool, like your brothers.You do not know when you are beaten.You will fight until you die, and then it will be too late to know that you are beaten.
"Now behold what this mate did.As we came down upon him, covering the sea and blowing our conches, he put off from the schooner in the small boat, along with the three black boys, and rowed for the passage.There again he was a fool, for no wise man would put out to sea in so small a boat.The sides of it were not four inches above the water.Twenty canoes went after him, filled with two hundred young men.We paddled five fathoms while his black boys were rowing one fathom.He had no chance, but he was a fool.He stood up in the boat with a rifle, and he shot many times.He was not a good shot, but as we drew close many of us were wounded and killed.But still he had no chance.
"I remember that all the time he was smoking a cigar.When we were forty feet away and coming fast, he dropped the rifle, lighted a stick of dynamite with the cigar, and threw it at us.He lighted another and another, and threw them at us very rapidly, many of them.I know now that he must have split the ends of the fuses and stuck in match heads, because they lighted so quickly.Also, the fuses were very short.Sometimes the dynamite sticks went off in the air, but most of them went off in the canoes.And each time they went off in a canoe, that canoe was finished.Of thetwenty canoes, the half were smashed to pieces.The canoe I was in was so smashed, and likewise the two men who sat next to me.The dynamite fell between them.The other canoes turned and ran away.Then that mate yelled, Yah! Yah! Yah!' at us.Also he went at us again with his rifle, so that many were killed through the back as they fled away.And all the time the black boys in the boat went on rowing.You see, I told you true, that mate was hell.
"Nor was that all.Before he left the schooner, he set her on fire, and fixed up all the powder and dynamite so that it would go off at one time.There were hundreds of us on board, trying to put out the fire, heaving up water from overside, when the schooner blew up.So that all we had fought for was lost to us, besides many more of us being killed.Sometimes, even now, in my old age, I have bad dreams in which I hear that mate yell, Yah! Yah! Yah!' In a voice of thunder he yells, Yah! Yah! Yah!' But all those in the fishing camps were killed.
"The mate went out of the passage in his little boat, and that was the end of him we made sure, for how could so small a boat, with four men in it, live on the ocean? A month went by, and then, one morning, between two rain squalls, a schooner sailed in through our passage and dropped anchor before the village.The king and the headmen made big talk, and it was agreed that we would take the schooner in two or three days.In the meantime, as it was our custom always to appear friendly, we went off to her in canoes, bringing strings of cocoanuts, fowls, and pigs, to trade.But when we were alongside, many canoes of us, the men on board began to shoot us with rifles, and as we paddled away I saw the mate who had gone to sea in the little boat spring upon the rail and dance and yell, Yah! Yah! Yah!'
