Under the Wide and Starry Sky

CHAPTER 70

Henry informs us that the workers have given us native names. I am Tamaitai, for “Madam,” and sometimes, Aolele, “Flying Cloud.”

Fanny looked up from her diary to ?nd Henry standing over her. “Lafaele stepped on a nail, Tamaitai. The native doctor is out there.”

“Oh, that’s no use.” Fanny sighed. “I’ll be right down.”

When she found Lafaele, he was lying on the ground, his foot in the hands of an old man.

“What is happening?” she asked Henry, who stood nearby.

“The doctor say the devil got in him through the nail hole. Now the devil want to take over his body.”

“Thank the doctor very much for coming. We will fetch him if things get worse.” She washed out the wound, treated the puncture with carbolic acid solution, wrapped the
foot and fed Lafaele salicylate to dull the pain. His terrified expression remained.
“Close your eyes,” she told him. She put two ?ngers on his eyelids. “You are going to be just ?ne. My devils are more powerful than his devils. Now go to your bed, and we will bring food to you.”

At dinner with the family, Henry said, “Lafaele is feeling better. He says you are a great healer.”

“I rather like that.”

“Now if you could just persuade him to go into the bush to our banana plantation  …” Louis said.  “He claims he has seen a devil in the form of a strange man come out of the forest.”

“Vailima is overrun with ghosts, if you believe the men,” Fanny said. “Lafaele says there is one in our spring. And another near the garden. I heard something like a rumbling the other day, and I must admit, it gave me pause.” She took a bite of the breadfruit on her plate and thought of how tired she was of it.  “And then there is the spirit whose name translates to something like ‘Come to Me Thousands.’ Have you heard of her?”
Louis shook his head.

“The cook says there is an evil female aītu who preys on women when they are alone. Appears as a crone and asks for some favor, a bit of bread, say, and if she doesn’t get it,

woe to the lady. Slips into her body while she is sleeping. Apparently, the poor woman possessed by her will leap up and run through the hills crazily and carouse all night.”
“Sounds like a fellow’s dearest fantasy,” Louis muttered. He pushed his chair back from the table. “Say, Moors invited us to come down to their house for Christmas Eve dinner.”
“Thank heavens!” Fanny said. “There won’t be a holiday dinner at Vailima this year, I can assure you. My plants aren’t near ready to be harvested.”

On  Christmas  Eve,  Louis  saddled  up  Jack,  and  Fanny  rode  the  piebald  horse  they’d bought from a traveling circus for his mother’s eventual use. In spite of the rainy season, it was a ?ne afternoon, and they rode down to Apia in high spirits. Fanny wore a split skirt that Dora had sent her from San Francisco, which freed her from riding sidesaddle.
Moors  and  his  wife  had  invited  a  local  lawyer,  three  other  Samoan  women,  plus  a colorful missionary from Tonga. Mrs. Moors was a mature, graceful woman. She had spread the table with a banquet of Samoan and American foods, and Fanny did her best not to ravage a plate in two gulps. Seated next to Mr. Moors, she described the rumbling sounds coming from somewhere near the garden.

“As I recall, there’s a cave in that area,” Moors said. “It’s possible that runaways from the German plantations are hiding there. I suspect there are plenty of labor boys living in the bush near Vailima.”

“We aren’t far from a plantation. During the day, I can hear them call in the workers with a conch shell.” Fanny sipped her wine. “It is strange to think of runaways hiding out there. I don’t know how they survive during the rainy season. Lafaele says they live on yams they dig up. Imagine how hungry they must be.”

“I understand you are quite a medicine woman,” Moors said, changing the subject. “Word travels quickly.”

“Oh, you have no idea. In Apia, rumors are the main form of discourse. If it has to do with spirits, all the better.” He chuckled. “There is a native word for spirit. It is aītu—”
“I know the word,” she said.

“Then you know there is always some rumor of aītus going around.” “What is the latest news in town about the supernatural world?”

“Some ?shermen saw a war canoe with four spirit men in it coming into shore. It is said, that one of the ?shermen who saw them is on his mat, dying.” Moors shook his head. “The natives  take  all  this  as  a  sign  of  war  coming.  They  are  hurrying  around  looking  for

ammunition.”

“Doesn’t that worry you?”

“The part about the ammunition? Not in the least. It is nothing new.” “I must say, Mr. Moors,” Fanny remarked, “that when you showed us the property and
told us about the waterfalls, and the streams, and the secret banana plantation, you forgot to mention it’s common knowledge that Vailima is overrun with aītus.”
“An oversight,” he said.  “But it’s actually a good deal. The locals won’t be tempted to steal from you if your land is regarded as haunted. So the ghosts, you might say, are a gift.” Moors lifted his glass. “Happy Christmas to you, Mrs. Stevenson!”

At around eleven, Fanny and Louis took their leave. Rain began to fall as the lights of Apia disappeared behind them. In the darkness of the forest, the horses grew skittish on the path, cocking their ears at the burbling sound the wind and rain made in the trees. Flying foxes whipped past overhead. Weird whitish bars of light appeared here and there on the forest ground.

“What is it?” Fanny asked when Louis stopped to gape.

“Phosphorescent light from the dead wood,” he said.  “Looks like grating over hell. No wonder the natives think the nighttime is full of bogeys. Scary, ain’t it?”
A great gust of wind came up the hill, knocking Fanny’s hat o? into the darkness and lifting high the manes of the horses.

Louis’s Jack quailed. He took off uphill, and Fanny’s horse hurried behind him.