"They could not drive us forever that way, for the lagoon was only so large, and at last all of us that yet lived were driven upon the last sand bank to the west.Beyond lay the open sea.There were ten thousand of us, and we covered the sand bank from the lagoon edge to the pounding surf on the other side.No one could lie down.There was no room.We stood hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder.Two days they kept us there, and the mate would climb up in the rigging to mock us and yell, Yah! Yah! Yah!' till we were well sorry that we had ever harmed him or his schooner a month before.We had no food, and we stood on our feet two days and nights.The little babies died, and the old and weak died, and the wounded died.And worst of all, we had no water to quench our thirst, and for two days the sun beat down on us, and there was no shade.Many men and women waded out into the ocean and were drowned, the surf casting their bodies back on the beach.And there came a pest of flies.Some men swam to the sides of the schooners, but they were shot to the last one.And we that lived were very sorry that in our pride we tried to take the schooner with the three masts that came to fish for beche-de-mer.
"On the morning of the third day came the skippers of the three schooners and that mate in a small boat.They carried rifles, all of them, and revolvers, and they made talk.It was only that they were weary of killing us that they had stopped, they told us.And we told them that we were sorry, that never again would we harm a white man, and in token of our submission we poured sand upon our heads.And all the women and children set up a great wailing for water, so that for some time no man could make himself heard.Then we were told our punishment.We must fill the three schooners with copra and beche-de-mer.And we agreed, for we wanted water, and our hearts were broken, and we knew that we were children at fighting when we fought with white men who fight like hell.
And when all the talk was finished, the mate stood up and mocked us, and yelled, Yah! Yah! Yah!' After that we paddled away in our canoes and sought water.
"And for weeks we toiled at catching beche-de-mer and curing it, in gathering the cocoanuts and turning them into copra.By day and night the smoke rose in clouds from all the beaches of all the islands of Oolong as we paid the penalty of our wrongdoing.For in those days of death it was burned clearly on all our brains that it was very wrong to harm a white man.
"By and by, the schooners full of copra and beche-de-mer and our trees empty of cocoanuts, the three skippers and that mate called us all together for a big talk.And they said they were very glad that we had learned our lesson, and we said for the ten-thousandth time that we were sorry and that we would not do it again.Also, we poured sand upon our heads.Then the skippers said that it was all very well, but just to show us that they did not forget us, they would send a devil-devil that we would never forget and that we would always remember any time we might feel like harming a white man.After that the mate mocked us one more time and yelled, Yah! Yah! Yah!' Then six of our men, whom we thought long dead, were put ashore from one of the schooners, and the schooners hoisted their sails and ran out through the passage for the Solomons.
"The six men who were put ashore were the first to catch the devil- devil the skippers sent back after us.""A great sickness came," I interrupted, for I recognized the trick.The schooner had had measles on board, and the six prisoners had been deliberately exposed to it.
"Yes, a great sickness," Oti went on."It was a powerful devil-devil.The oldest man had never heard of the like.Those of our priests that yet lived we killed because they could not overcome the devil-devil.The sickness spread.I have said that there were ten thousand of us that stood hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder on the sandbank.When the sickness left us, there were three thousand yet alive.Also, having made all our cocoanuts into copra, there was a famine.
"That fella trader," Oti concluded, "he like 'm that much dirt.He like'm clam he die KAI-KAI (meat) he stop, stink 'm any amount.He like 'm one fella dog, one sick fella dog plenty fleas stop along him.We no fright along that fella trader.We fright because he white man.We savve plenty too much no good kill white man.That one fella sick dog trader he plenty brother stop along him, white men like 'm you fight like hell.We no fright that damn trader.Some time he made kanaka plenty cross along him and kanaka want 'm kill m, kanaka he think devil-devil and kanaka he hear that fella mate sing out, Yah! Yah! Yah!' and kanaka no kill m."Oti baited his hook with a piece of squid, which he tore with his teeth from the live and squirming monster, and hook and bait sank in white flames to the bottom.
"Shark walk about he finish," he said."I think we catch 'm plenty fella fish."His line jerked savagely.He pulled it in rapidly, hand under hand, and landed a big gasping rock cod in the bottom of the canoe.
"Sun he come up, I make 'm that dam fella trader one present big fella fish," said Oti.
