The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1908-11-15

At four clock in the afternoon,
Carter flung a towel over his shoulder,
whistled a mongrel terrier from fly
catching oprations ON the verandah
mats, and strolled hstlessly down the
winding paths of the plantation TO,
wards the sea.
Every now anr then he stopped to
examine a promising rubber plant or
to release a banana bud from the choll-
ing embrace of creeping vine. Things
were promfsing-highiy promising; but
it was far too hot to be enthusiastic
about it. The sky was flaming sheet
of copper merging into dull pewter as
it neared the horizon, and the sun
streamed down with a merciless per
sistency that scorched everything it
touched, from the mahogany colored
lskin of Carter's face to the good red
earth about the banana and pineapple
plants.
Down on the beach there was no re-
lief. The Pacific was a blue mirror that
reflected and intensified the sun s rays
into binding glare.
Carter's undressing was a study in
economy of exertion; then he wallowed
out to the reef and waIlowed back
again, to sit under a palm with the
mongrel and a pipe. He had done all
this three hundred and sixty-fve times
during the last year and the year be-
fore that, except for a two months
bout with fever, and there were still
two years more. of it. He smiled as
his thoughts travelled back to the early
days on the island. The stretch of
glistening coral sand, the feathery-top-
ped cocoanut palms, the intense blue of
the ocean-all these had appeared beau
tiful to him then. Beautiful! The
place was blot on the face of Nature,
sun-scorched desolation unfit for
human habitation!
He dressed slowly, and stood strain
ing his eyes out over the glare of the
water, for it was something to even be
looking in the direction of cool rains
and the other things worth having.
1.-TWO more years!" he muttered.
"a NY God, IN sick of it-sick of iti''
Then he squared his shoulders, and
retraced his steps towards the bunga-
low.
A. Al o-oesi,o :, +ba r,onoro,,a
swamp he came upon Mirama, sitting
on an empty fruit-crate, dexterously
moulding a cigarette of dried banana
leaf and native tobacco. A good girl
was Mirama, as island girls went. She
helped old Rarago in the kitchen, and
wove sleeping mats as fine as Panama
hat, while her brother worked among
the bananas.
Carter had never been sure how far
her nursing had gone towards saving
his life during the fever. and there
was the little matter of the shark in-
side the reef That Mirama had hap
pened to be on the beach at the time
was, of course, purely accident; but
the way in which she had padded out,
and hauled him into the canoe like a
drowning puppy, was a lasting memory
to Carter And for these things she
had become an acquisition, and even
her brother 5 laziness among the
bananas was tolerated on her account.
She was such a lonely, demure little
soul. too. with none of the airs and
graces of an island belle. With her
seeds. her t-black hair glistening
with cocoanut oil and tumbllng about
her shoulders in wild profusion, her
splendid carriage of body and head,
she went about her work singing and
smiling and quite unspoiled.
Carter mopped the lining of his he'll
met. and found it hard to be angry
with her. though two months precious
mail lay on the fruit-crate at her slde'
undeliyered while she rolled elga-
rette. Even now she set light to the
tobacco before handing him the letters
with smile that disarmed criticism,
and sent thin ribbons of smoke creep
mo ND over her face to hang on the
stagnant air above her head.
ssYou should have brought these to
me at once. Mirama, said Carter,
selecting a blue foreign envelope from
the pile and tearing it hastily open
Letters always before anything
His voice trailed away into the 81
lence as his eyes devoured the contents
of the envelope, and Mirama knew that
it was no good trying to tell him any
thing Just then, much less that after
mature deIiberation in the mangrove
swamp she had decided not to deliver
even letters to scantily clothed white
man on the beach. So she sat on her
frui+-crate in silence, and watched the
changing expressions of Carriers face.
They were wonderful, these little
square bags of crisp paper. with their
closely traced lines of thin, black pat
terms. They looked so harmless; yet
sometimes. after studying them for
long time, she had seen MlssI Carlo
frown. swear. smile. and 60 away down
20 +ba beach and sit with his head be