British -- Oceania -- Fiction; Missionaries -- Fiction
But Sandy's troubles were only beginning. With much labour he built
for himself and his wife a house of parts, and his wife's relatives
expressed themselves highly pleased with it, and immediately quartered
themselves there, not simply in very great contentment, but fairly
uplifted with their lot. They began to put on airs on the strength of
the lofty alliance, and at the same time to put off even such trifling
habits of labour and thrift as had hitherto supplied their daily wants
without any undue exertion. Sandy remonstrated verbally, and at times
otherwise, but custom was against him, and there was no shirking the
burden. The other men visited him pretty regularly, and gave him a
hand with his planting in their spare time; but in spite of his pretty
wife, with her odd, outlandish ways, the sight of his full house
offered them no inducements to follow his example. He was a standing
warning to the rest, and so was not without his uses.
CHAPTER XXI
MIGHT OF RIGHT
Matters were progressing thus, surely if slowly, when a sudden sharp
stroke fell upon them--sudden, but not altogether unlooked for.
With the individual as with the nation, peaceful times are growing
times; and yet, to both individual and nation, there come times of
stress and strife, when the slow upbuilding of the years is put sharply
to the test, and, surviving, is the stronger for the strain. Winter's
storms provoke the oak to deepest rooting.
At times, indeed, too long a period of peaceful growth may lead to
over-fatness and deterioration. The nation and the man that waxes
over-fat grows lean of soul. But that is a side issue at the moment.
The little community on Kapaa'a was too near to its swaddling bands to
be in any danger of fatty degeneration. And yet the stressful time
that came to it made for good in every way. It had been striking roots
and feelers. Well for it that time had been given them to grip the
soil before the storm burst. As it was, they only gripped the tighter,
and the breaking of the storm cleared the air, and made for more
prosperous weather.
Captain Cathie, in his capacity of watch-dog, had never for a single
moment relaxed his precautions at home, or his keen-eyed vigilance
abroad. When he was touring the islands, his glasses swept the horizon
continually, with a special eye to the east, which was the threatening
quarter.
"Those yellow deevils will come back, as sure as we're here," was his
constant word.
And so the beach was never bare of stacks of neatly-cut wood from away
up the valley, and the bunkers of the _Torch_ were always full, and the
men were regularly drilled, and Long Tom was ready to speak at a
moment's notice.
Each day, when the _Torch_ lay at anchor in the lagoon, he took the
steam-launch, or, occasionally, one of the whale-boats, by way of
exercise for muscles, through the reef, to an offing whence he could
obtain wide views of the approaches to the islands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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