The road soon left the water’s edge. Now it ran several hundred yards inland through groves of cocoanut, banana and breadfruit trees. Fringing the road were many spider-like, grass-thatched native houses, similar to those they had seen among the groves at Kulinuu. Seated on mats under these shelters were numerous natives, and the Americans as they progressed received frequent cordial invitation to stop and refresh themselves from the very hospitable islanders. Commander Tazewell, during his stay in Kapua, had acquired some facility in the language, which greatly delighted the childlike natives, and they lost no opportunity to engage him to join their meetings, in order that they might listen to their own language from the lips of a “papalangi”[4] chief. But apparently the commander did not intend to stop. Both midshipmen now eyed longingly the cool interior of a large and pretentious house which they were approaching. From the entrance a stately warrior beckoned them to come and partake of the milk of a cocoanut. [Illustration: MAP OF UKULA] Commander Tazewell waved a solemn acknowledgment. “That’s Tuamana, the chief of Ukula,” he said to his companions. “We’ll stop for just a minute. It was he,” the commander added as they approached the delighted chief, “who saved so many lives during the hurricane when those two war-ships were thrown up bodily on the reef, and several others were wrecked at their moorings.” Tuamana grasped each by the hand in turn and then led them to mats laid upon the pebbly floor. He clapped his hands, and almost at once from behind the dividing curtain of “Tapa”[5] cloth, two native girls glided, gracefully and with outstretched hands, to the side of the “papalangis.” Seating themselves the girls began industriously fanning the heated officers. Phil soon appreciated the reason for this delicate attention; swarms of flies hovered about them, to fight which alone would soon exhaust one’s patience. Commander Tazewell and Chief Tuamana engaged in quiet conversation in Kapuan while the chief’s talking man, a native educated at one of the mission schools, came frequently to their aid when the commander’s limited native vocabulary gave evidence of being inadequate. Phil and Sydney were thus left free to enjoy the novelty of their surroundings. The two young girls fanned and giggled in turns until Phil, unused to such delicate attention from the opposite sex, insisted upon taking the cleverly wrought banana leaf fan, and much to the amusement of the two girls began fanning himself and the girl too. After a few moments this young lady arose, bowed and disappeared behind the screen convulsed with laughter. “You’ve offended her,” insisted Sydney. “Haven’t you learned yet to give women their own way?”