THE ISLAND CHIEF

The man fought with the waves, throwing out his white arms ever more feebly. At times it seemed that he must give up, and under would go the black head, only to reappear again a little nearer the shore, with eyes bent on those smiling, white sands, that seemed to mock in derision. Hawai was half defeated by famine before he began the battle. One of the survivors in the storm-tossed bark, he had seen two of his companions drown before his eyes, when the craft was dashed to pieces on the rocks. That sight had cost what strength yet remained in his exhausted body, for, presently, where his friends had gone down, he caught a glimpse of the glittering belly of a shark.

Remembering that he had been the best swimmer of the Panama coast, he struck out with renewed courage, although his limbs were numb, his arms had lost all sense of feeling, and his face was purple. Dazzled by the sun-light, the coast seemed ever further away, so he shut his eyes and floundered blindly on. When he reached the cove, the tide pushed him gently in, and the sea-foam billowed around him like a bed of down. When he reached the beach, half senseless, he sank down like a tired child, but the greedy waves would fain suck him back, so he crawled higher up, digging his nails into the sand, and tearing his hands till the blood came, but he gave no heed to that. He could go no further, his brain reeled, he sank into the oblivion of exhaustion.

Pallid of aspect and slender of form, he lay like a withered lily on the strand. How long he was in this damp trance he knew not, for the day was as the night to his congealing blood and dim senses.

With throbbing pulse and aching limbs he came back to consciousness. As he opened his eyes, he looked into the black eyes of a girl, whose face bent so low over him that her breath fanned his cheek. As she chafed his chilled arms, he felt the warmth of life slowly returning. She raised his faint head and poured water through his blue lips. Soft hands smoothed the black curls from his death-like forehead, and wrung his damp locks. The sun came up and warmed him into feeling. Loa, the girl who had found him on the beach, did not explain that she had tried for hours to make a fire by striking a knife with flint, as she had seen the men do. Failing in this, she threw her mantle over the slender frame, pillowed his head in her lap, and waited for the day.

Straining every muscle of her lithe, young body, she dragged him to the protecting shelter of a cave. There, with the juice of shell-fish, breadfruit, and wild strawberries from the woods, she slowly nursed him back to life. She dared not leave him very long, as she, unlike the original Eve, was afraid of the snakes that haunted the jungle. The space around the cave was bare, but, in the midst of some foraying expedition, Loa would have a vision of a white body coiled around by a green snake, and, seized with terror, would race back to the cave, only to find her charge a little stronger and more roguish than ever. Gradually the color crept back into his alabaster cheek, for Hawai was young.

As soon as he was able, he took over his share of the housekeeping duties. One of the first things he did was to go to work with the flint. He made the sparks fly, and finally succeeded in getting fire. That night they had broiled fish for supper, and around the genial blaze they looked into each other's faces in the flickering light, half understandingly, half expectantly.

She approved of the poise of his head upon his bare shoulders, and he watched the firelight play on her expressive features and illumine the gold of her hair, that fell all around her like a voluminous mantle.

"Are you the princess of this island, or Mother Eve in the Garden of Eden?" he asked, quizzically.

"Neither, but a poor, ship-wrecked mariner like yourself."

He stared. "Did you come in one of the ships of Hagoth?"

She inclined her head.

"But the others? Where are the others from your boat?"

"The same place that your companions are, I'm afraid. There was a body washed upon the shore down there, and when I first found you, I thought you were like it,—dead!"

"Must have been Shem or Mirror. We'll go down and take a look at it."

The woman shuddered. "I believe I'd rather stay here by the fire."

"Poor little girl! So you are all alone, and have had to care for a lugger like me."

"I was alone—until I found you. That helped me; I had something to do besides think about myself."

"How long were you—alone?"

"Two days."

"And during that time you found no signs of life? There are no people living here?"

"No, I saw no evidence whatever. I was afraid to go very far inland, so stayed mostly on the beach, but I have a feeling that there is no one alive on this island except you and me."

"How do you know it is an island?" quickly.

"Because I have seen it melt into the haze of the sea on three sides, and I imagine if we climb that peak over there that we could see the blue water on the other side."

"Nonsense! There may be big cities in there. When we are better able we will reconnoiter a little. How was it that you, a girl, of all your crew was saved?" he asked curiously.

"I do not know. When the boat began to fill, and it was only a question of a few moments before it would sink, my father lashed me to a large, flat board. As an afterthought, he took out his big knife and fastened it at my waist. 'If you should be saved, you can cut yourself loose,' he explained, while his hand shook. We could see the blue outline of the land over here, and there was a chance that some of us might reach it. After that the hulk settled, and I felt a cold wave sweep over my limbs, and then I was strangling with the salt water in my nose and throat. I was churned around, and then the plank righted itself, with me on top. When the salt water got out of my smarting eyes sufficient for me to see, I noticed that the ship was gone, with most of the passengers, only a few were floundering around like me. Nowhere could I see my father, and though I called, no one answered. I could see one man clinging to a cask that bobbed around, and the black head of another would appear, only to be submerged again. That swimmer fought hard, but he stayed under longer each time, till at last he went down and did not come up again. After that the storm broke, and the rain lashed us in sheets. I could see nothing, but the cool water was grateful to my parched throat. Something was singing in my ears, and then I must have fainted, for I knew no more until I found myself lying high and dry here on the beach, scorching under a tropical sun. Its rays warmed me back to life, and then I felt for my father's knife. It was still there, and with it I cut myself free, rose to my tottering feet and looked around. The place was pretty enough, with its white sand and glittering sea. I made my way over to some cocoanut palms and found a fresh water stream, that emptied into a little cove. I drank deeply, and bathed my hot forehead in its cool depths. Then I walked along the beach to see if any others had been saved." She hesitated.

"You found—?"

"Two corpses. When I saw that they were quite dead I went up to the jungle, but a wailing cry, like a soul in purgatory, issued from the trees. I went back to the beach, but the bodies were gone."

Hawai jumped.

"I did not know what to do, so I crawled into the cave. Then I was afraid of snakes. I have since found out that the cries in the woods were made by the little monkeys. I do not know who carried off the bodies."

"Probably washed out by the tide," he reassured her.

"I think not," she continued slowly. "The next day was worse—when I realized that I was alone. I should have died if I had not found you. My only fear, when I saw you lying so white and still on the sand, was that you, like the others, were dead." She caught her breath with a little gasp.

He reached over and impulsively touched her hand.

"Poor little girl! You came up out of the sea and saved my life."

"I don't know what I should have done if you had eaten very much," she explained, half tearfully. "I could only gather the poor cocoanuts off the ground; but when you are strong you can climb the trees and get fresh ones. The bananas were hard to get, and there was strange fruit I was afraid to try, for fear it might poison you. See, we shall have eggs for breakfast. They are quite good."

She poked one out from among the ashes where they were roasting.

"Did you lose any other relatives besides your father on the boat?" he asked suddenly.

She shook her head sadly. "No."

"Then you were not married?"

"No; only betrothed."

His brow darkened. "Was he, to whom you were betrothed, drowned?"

"I think so." But the look of pain which flitted across her face when he spoke of her father did not return. "It was this way: when we embarked in one of the ships of Hagoth to seek new homes in a foreign land, my father, being old, made me promise to marry Isar, when we reached the new country. I agreed, for Isar was a good man and would take care of me, though I did not love him, or even know him very well."

Hawai looked relieved, and his eyes glowed as they rested on her.

"You have my story, but you have not told me yours," she burst out.

"Mine is similar to yours. I sailed on another ship of Hagoth's only we floundered around in the waste of waters in search of land for so long, that all the crew except three died of famine before she foundered." He dismissed the subject with a shrug of the shoulders, as if unwilling to fill the night with further horrors.

"You must sleep now, and gain some rest, for tomorrow we go on a foraging expedition," he added with gentle raillery.

Loa's eyelids were already drooping, and, soothed with the grateful warmth, she lay down and was soon fast asleep. Hawai piled dry brush on the camp fire until it roared and crackled, and then, like a sentinel on guard, he sat looking moodily into the blaze for hours.

The day dawned auspiciously, and Loa led Hawai down toward the place where she had seen his compan-ions lying. Suddenly she drew back with a little cry. At the exact spot where the mariner had lain, reclined an immense devil fish, with its tentacles wrapped around something. Hawai watched it a moment. He thought perhaps that explained the disappearance of the other two bodies. He silently led Loa away.

They went into the woods to hunt for food, and Loa in helping him soon got back her spirits. They found raspberries and a strange apple, both of which Hawai pronounced good. The man who first tasted the tomato had more courage than did Columbus. He decried the date palm afar off, and remarked that they should soon fare like princes. The man cut sugar cane, and showed Loa how to chew the pulp and extract the sweetness thereof.

That was but the beginning of their rambles. Every day they sauntered forth to gain new strength, and came home laden with their treasures. One night they dragged in armfuls of bamboo. Another time Hawai brought a mealy root which he had found by accident. It proved a novelty in their diet, for it was the sweet potato. One day they skirted the coast and found a secluded beach where the turtles had come to lay their eggs. The latter they gathered eagerly, while Hawai jocularly remarked that, when they had something to cook it in they could have turtle soup. They had gradually gone over the whole island, and on the night that completed the circuit, and proved conclusively that they were the only human beings there, despair descended on them. They had traveled far that day, and the dusk overtook them, but Hawai insisted on cutting armfuls of a tough rush that grew in a swamp.

"What do you want that for?" inquired Loa.

The man was a born woodsman, and was very clever.

"To make a net to catch shrimps with," he answered. "The little shrimp is better than the mussels we have been eating so long."

Loa acquiesced. She was tired of shell fish. So she helped carry the rushes back to the cave, in the long walk through the night.

The next day Hawai spent fashioning the shrimp net. Loa amused herself making festoons of brilliant flowers and garlanding them around his neck. That gave her an idea. She gathered a large quantity of fleshy, fibrous leaves, and began weaving them together.

"Why can't I make clothing out of these?" she queried.

Hawai glanced at her. Their clothing was rent in strips, and sadly in need of repair, and Loa had a skin averse to the sun. He watched her amusedly, until she got tired and threw them aside.

"I believe I could make better things out of feathers." She glanced at a squawking sea-bird that sailed overhead. "I could make you a headpiece that would crown a chief."

He smiled at the woman's vanity that would think first of adorning the head, but humored her by saying gently, "If you will lend me some of your tresses, I shall try and snare some birds."

She shook out her mane, for she firmly believed him capable of anything. When she went over to help him tie the net, she voiced the thought that had haunted both of them.

"If we are the only persons living on this island, how long must we stay before others come?"

"Perhaps forever." It was no use deceiving her. She might as well know. "Some of the ships may have reached one of those bodies of land over there; for owing to the warm current all of Hagoth's crafts came in the same direction. If some of our compatriots are alive, sooner or later they may visit this island."

"Or you could build a boat and go to them." Her faith in him was unlimited.

He shook his head. "I intend to keep you here, and not risk you with the treacherous sea again." Something in his tone made her drop her eyes. "Would it then be so distasteful?"

"No," she answered bravely, "I have been very happy here."

"I want you to give me the right to protect you. You must marry me."

"But there is no priest," she subterfuged.

"Kings make their own laws. You and I, by right of possession, are joint rulers of these islands. We shall effect a union of our interests. Come, we will ask the Heavenly Father, who watches over even the outcasts, to guard and protect us."

Kneeling, he invoked a blessing on the new life on which they were embarking. He prayed fervently that they should not die out, but live to perpetuate a new race in this paradise of the Pacific.

They arose with rapt faces, and in a spirit of exaltation wandered down to the beach. It was a glorious, starlit night, and the wind from the sea was tempered with a summer softness. They gazed upon the glittering sea, heard the wave's roar and the wind's low moan. They saw each other's dark eyes darting light into each other. In early days the heart is lava and the blood ablaze. They were alone, but no feeling of loneliness oppressed them. Around them lay the white expanse of the sand; beyond, they heard the drip in the damp caves. They clung to each other; for them there was no one else in the world.

The shrimp fisher flung in his net, and Loa, afraid to trust him in the water alone, went surfbathing. The catch was successful, and at last Hawai, with the consciousness of work well done, threw down his net and joined her in the sport. Loa took the flat board on which she had been rescued and rode on it on the crests of the waves, keeping well to the shallow water, for she dreaded the flitting black fins that portended the shark. It was a sunlit honeymoon, and, surrounded by gorgeous flowers and brilliant birds, they imbibed the brightness of the atmosphere. As Loa did not like the gloom of the cave, Hawai built her a summer house of bamboo, and thatched it with grass. Gradually their comforts increased. One night, after they had dined off a young roast pig, Loa remarked, "Hawai, don't you ever say that you and I are the only people on this island." She looked him straight in the eyes.

He put his arm around her tenderly, but this thing worried him more than he liked to show.

"I want you to declare war on the wild boars," she continued, "for this place must be safe for a little child to play in."

He mentally resolved to do it, although he was at a loss how to commence. After that he renewed his efforts, and toiled indefatigably to bring in every necessity his ingenuity could devise.

One night he had gone to look at some traps. One had been dragged away, and in looking for it he went farther than he intended. When he returned to the hut he was panic-stricken to find Loa gone. Wild with fear, he dashed up to the mouth of the cave whence smoke issued. Inside, guarded by the fire at the entrance, lay Loa. A thin, piping sound issued from her side.

"Come in," she said, "and see your little son."

"My little son!" he repeated in wonder.

With a mighty thankfulness, Hawai gathered up his family in his arms and carried it to the house, with a heartfelt prayer that he might not drop all that he held dear.

Thus Hawai and Loa founded their island kingdom and were progenitors of a new race in the South Seas.

THE CLIFF DWELLERS' DAUGHTER.