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Updated: May 28, 2025
The chief sat cross-legged and watched Probyn opening the tierce of tobacco. Niabong locked the box again and sat upon it. "Who are you?" said Tahori, still caressing the boy, to the white man's wife. "Niabong. But my tongue twists with your talk here. By-and-by I shall understand it." "True. He is a great man, thy man," said the chief, nodding at Probyn. "A great man, truly.
"Ha!" and the fat, bearded face of Tahori turned from the white man to him of whom the white man had spoken "is it thee, Makoi? And so thou madest the strangers hasten away! That was wrong. Only for thee I had gone to the ship and gotten many things. Come hither!" Then he stooped and picked up one of Probyn's muskets, handed it to the white man, and silently indicated the tall native with a nod.
Probyn counted out into it two hundred sticks of tobacco. "See, Tahori. I am a just man to thee because thou art a just man to me. Here is the price of him that thou gavest to me." Tahori rose and beckoned to the people to return. "Look at this man. He is a truly great man. His heart groweth from his loins upwards to his throat.
But since then he and his sub-chiefs had consulted the oracle, and had been told that the shades of Maumau Tahori and Foilagi, their deified ancestors, had answered that the new religion was unacceptable to them, and that the Samoan teacher must be killed or sent away.
At last the natives became silent and parted to the right and left as Tahori, the head man, his fat body shining with coconut oil, and carrying an ebony-wood club in his hand, stood in front of the white man and eyed him up and down. The scrutiny seemed satisfactory. "Sam," replied Probyn.
"Good," said Probyn, and he motioned to his wife. She dived her hand into the chest and handed him a tin of powder, then a bullet, a cap, and some scraps of paper. Slowly he loaded the musket, and Tahori, seizing the bondman by his arm, led him out to the open, and stood by, club in hand, on the alert. Probyn knew his reputation depended on the shot. He raised his musket and fired.
The other natives fell back. Niabong, Probyn's wife, set her boy on his feet, put her hand in her bosom and drew out a key, with which she opened the chest. She threw back the lid, fixed her black eyes on Probyn, and waited. Probyn, holding the musket in his left hand, mused a moment. Then he asked: "Whose man is he?" "Mine," said Tahori; "he is from Oaitupu, and my bondman." "Hath he a wife?"
The ball passed through the chest of Makoi. Then four men picked up the body and carried it into a house. Probyn laid down the musket and motioned again to Niabong. She handed him a hatchet and blunt chisel. Tahori smiled pleasantly, and, drawing the little boy to him, patted his head. Then, at a sign from him, a woman brought Niabong a shell of sweet toddy.
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