Drums of Mer. Ion Idriess

like waiting swans.

      On the pretty beach at Medigee a mad crowd surged around eight canoes, but never delaying the detailed men who, breasting the vessels, rushed them to the water and swung up the big sails. As they took the breeze, Kebisu’s sails filled, and the flotilla, in two inverted V’s, stood out to sea to a repetition of the leave-taking at Mer. Kebisu, his brawny chest swelling with pride of life and power, turned to Jakara, the exultation in his smile making vividly alive the shrewd, savage face.

      “Give me a fleet such as these, and not only a flotilla, and we would conquer the world, Jakara,” he laughed, in his big rolling voice.

      Jakara smiled. “All the earth would tremble if they knew of the power of the Strait, Kebisu; and if my world knew of the wisdom of the Zogo-le, they would wonder much.”

      “And the plans of Jakara the Cunning,” answered the big Mamoose; “do they include the maid?” And with a laugh at the bashful girl, he turned again to thrill at the picture of his canoes.

      “You can sing again, Eyes of the Sea,” said Jakara gruffly; “Kebisu notices us no more.”

      “You do not like me to sing,” flashed the girl. “Why so, Jakara the Strange?”

      Jakara’s stern face relaxed. He leaned towards her, and said gently: “Because, Eyes of the Sea, you are white! A girl of the white people should not sing at the sight of savages bound for murder and things more terrible.”

      Her voice was troubled, her face defiant: “But, Jakara, these are our warriors going to fight a people who have slaughtered numbers of us and would kill us all, were it not for our fighting men: they would carry our heads back on the koon. Besides, I am one of them, and I am very proud. They are my people!”

      “Listen, Eyes of the Sea,” Jakara said earnestly; “can’t you realize that you belong to another race? These very people slaughtered your own father and mother and would have done so to you, had you not been claimed as a Lamar. We are English, you and I, white people! Don’t you understand that we must keep our pride of race and cling to the ideals of our own people?”

      Jakara ceased at the puzzled frown on the angry little face. “They should call you ‘Jakara the Mad.’ These are my people! I will have no other.”

      Just then Beizam, from the fighting-platform of his canoe, called to her, and, beckoning with his shark tooth sword out to sea, laughed aloud as he started the war-song again. The girl jumped up among the bananas, a figure of graceful youth and wild loveliness, stretched out her arms towards the foaming canoes of the Mamoose of Eroob, and joined in the wildly musical song.

      Jakara frowned at the koon she had mentioned. This ominous pole stood aft in every canoe, its masthead gay with leaves and cassowary feathers, a single great plume at the very tip. Down below at an angle, lashed to the pole, were two shorter poles. On these would be hung the heads of slain enemies.

      The sun sank like a ball of fire and crimsoned the rolling waves. From the Erubian canoes a voice inquired why the sail of Kebisu had stained to red? To the swish-swish-sh-sh-sh of the sea and the trill of the wind, the canoes sped on while night splashed the sky with brilliants. Then a half-moon peeped from a fleecy cloud and silvered a road upon the sea. The voices from canoe to canoe tinkled with laughter and song. Just before the moon disappeared a blue flame shot up from black Ugar and was answered from Kebisu’s canoe by the blaring, far-reaching call of a boo. The canoe men shouted the chorus, the strange wild music speeding into the night. The blur of Ugar was speckled with torch-flame, and a hundred fire-flies burst into light upon the beach, while from every village rose the counter-challenge of the boo. Kebisu’s canoe men burst into the war-song, which was returned from Ugar by voices fresh with excitement.

      Into the bay sped the canoes and came about with eerie precision in the night light, rocking quietly while five fighting-canoes of Ugar took swift form as they sped out from the beach. Then on again to wilder song, with clarion voices of the boo. And right out in the bay fire-flies suddenly dimmed as the torches of swimmers were drowned by the sea.

      Through dark night sped the canoes, and stars speckled the warriors’ faces with dancing points of. light. By the stars Kebisu sailed, for the stars in their courses had for centuries been familiar to the navigating Islanders of the Strait. At dawn appeared a low small island, only a sandbank capped by mangroves and surrounded by the greatest coral reef (apart from the mother Barrier) in the world.

      The island of Tutu was named by Bligh, “Warrior Island,” because while in 1792 the great navigator in H.M.S. Providence, accompanied by the brig Assistant, had all the boats out taking soundings in Basilisk Pass, the Tutu men attacked with an enveloping fleet. The boats met them with musketry, but were forced to fly to the man-o’-war. Captain Portlock signalled for assistance, and the Providence came up. The cannon of both vessels had to rake the canoes with grapeshot before they broke their way through. The warriors got so close to boarding the brig that they killed one sailor and wounded several. Kebisu’s boastful warriors claimed that their fathers had won the victory because “the Lamar ships never came back.” Furthermore they asserted that they were as good warriors as their fathers had been. To-day, in their dances, the descendants of these men pertly commemorate the event in which they claim that their forefathers hammered His Majesty’s ships of war. Bligh described the Tutu men as “dexterous sailors and formidable warriors.”

      And now the people of Tutu crowded the coral-specked beach in mad hero-worship at the return of their chief. But the boos were silent, and bursts of song were sternly suppressed, although all was hysterical excitement. A huge feast was spread, and the warriors ate, and continued to eat, and the women tried to force them to eat more. The Maid-le of Tutu walked among the groups with Kebisu and the Mamooses, and impressed upon the chiefs that they should urge their men to sleep and, above all, suppress dancing and singing.