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Updated: June 7, 2025
And along came poor Hughie and me, two new chums, to take hold of that hard-bitten gang. We did not know the situation, and we had bought Berande, and there was nothing to do but hang on and muddle through somehow. "At first we made the mistake of indiscreet kindness. We tried to rule by persuasion and fair treatment. The niggers concluded that we were afraid.
I can't tell you how good it is to be home again." And as his gaze continued to follow her across the compound to the tiny grass house, the realization came to him crushingly that Berande and that little grass house was the only place in the world she could call "home."
Sooner or later they would get him, if he did not get them first, if he did not once again sear on their dark souls the flaming mastery of the white man. He returned to the house disappointed. No opportunity had presented itself of making an example of insolence or insubordination such as had occurred on every other day since the sickness smote Berande.
For that most dreaded of Solomon Island scourges, dysentery, had struck Berande plantation, and he was all alone to cope with it. Also, he was afflicted himself. By stooping close, still on man-back, he managed to pass through the low doorway. He took a small bottle from his follower, and sniffed strong ammonia to clear his senses for the ordeal.
Her forte seemed to be salads, and she astonished him with the deliciousness of a salad made from young bamboo shoots. Wild tomatoes, which had gone to seed or been remorselessly hoed out from the beginning of Berande, were foraged for salads, soups, and sauces.
The full moon rose over Malaita and shone down on Berande. Nothing stirred in the windless air. From the hospital still proceeded the moaning of the sick. In the grass-thatched barracks nearly two hundred woolly-headed man-eaters slept off the weariness of the day's toil, though several lifted their heads to listen to the curses of one who cursed the white man who never slept.
But the home- coming was not all joy to him, for Joan set about nursing Tudor, and spent much time on the veranda where he lay in the hammock under the mosquito-netting. The ten days of Tudor's convalescence that followed were peaceful days on Berande. The work of the plantation went on like clock-work.
Following the death of Hughie, he had resolved to muddle along somehow with the plantation; but this resolve had not been based upon desire. Instead, it was based upon the inherent stubbornness of his nature and his dislike to give over an attempted task. But now it was different. Berande meant everything.
At least I was not suffering indignities, such as being accused of cowardly conduct, as you have just accused me. Remember please remember, I did not invite you to Berande. Nor did I invite you to stay on at Berande. It was by staying that you brought about this to you unpleasant situation. By staying you made yourself a temptation, and now you would blame me for it. I did not want you to stay.
You remember, I warned you long ago what would happen when you wanted to become a partner in Berande. Well, all the beach is gossiping about it; and Tudor persisted in repeating the gossip to me. So you see it won't do for you to stay on here under present conditions. It would be better if you went away." "But I don't want to go away," she objected with rueful countenance. "A chaperone, then "
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