How the Livuka Men Came Up to Windward

They were great men and tall, chiefs and chief-like in their ways, and we loved them, and went with them to their wars, conquering everywhere, so that our land became great and mighty, and all the towns along the coast feared us, and brought us presents, and owned us as their rulers. A great fish was the root of the evil which sprang up between us and the children of Bau, whereby we were driven away from our land — the land of our fathers — and came to be scattered here and there over all Fiji; and this is how it befell. Some of our tribe went out on the reef to fish, and there they speared a fish, great and long, such as had never been seen before, nor did any man know its name — only it was very big, and its flesh was sweet and good Then our people said, “Why should we take this great fish to our lords, the children of Bau? Let us rather eat it ourselves; and let every one keep silence that the thing may not be known, lest our lords be angry, and so evil befall us.” And they ate the fish, and no one said a word about the matter; no, not even the women, so that the thing was not known. But one of our boys took a rib of the fish, and made therewith a bow, for it was long, and tough, and good to make bows withal; his mother, Nabuna, put the roe in her basket for bait, and they two went out together on to the reef to fish. Now, some of the children of Bau also were out on the reef, and they saw the lad shooting at the fish with his bow; so they said, “The bow! its whiteness! See how it shines in the sun!” Then they called the boy. “You, there! Here, show us your bow! Why, this is not wood, nor is it the bone of a man! What is it?” And the lad said: “It is the bone, my lords, of a great fish.” “A great fish! What fish? Who caught it? When was it caught?” What was done with it?”

“We caught it, my lords,” answered the boy. “We speared it out there, and we all ate it in our town. See, there, my mother, Nabuna, she goes carrying its roe in her fish-basket.”

Then were the Bauans angry — great was their anger — and they said, “ Let us kill these impudent fellows, and burn their town.” So they made ready for war, and our people sat in their houses trembling, and the town was filled with their crying, as they said: “Alas! the great fish! Why did we eat it, and not give it to our lords, our lords of Bau? Now, we are all dead men; we are but ‘bokolas’ — bodies for the oven.” And the Bauans came on to the attack; but, just as they began to raise the war-cry, a great wave came slowly in from the sea, rising higher and ever higher as they went on, but stopping when they stopped. Then, while they were wondering as to what the meaning of this great thing could be, the god entered into the priest, who fell down to the ground, shaking and convulsed, and the people gathered round him, waiting to know the mind of the god. And the god said, “Let them not die, the men of Livuka and the men of Bu-toni; let them live. Only drive them out of the land. Let them now see to the fastenings of their canoes, and when that is done let them hoist their sails, and I will take them to the lands whither I wish them to go.” So the Bauans said: “It is well — let them live;” and our people began to bind their canoes, and to make all things ready for sailing.

Now, about this time, this is what was happening at Lakemba. The king had had a great piece of native cloth made for him, and it was laid out on the grass to bleach, for it was not yet painted. Then, one day as he was going to bathe, he said to his daughter Langi, the Sky-Lady, “I am going to bathe. Let it be your business to watch that cloth. If it should rain, make haste and run with it into the house.” And the Lady Langi said: “It is good; let it be my business.” Then the king went away, and his daughter looked up to the heavens, to the north, to the south, to the east, and to the west, and there was not even a little cloud to be seen; so she said, “There will be no rain; I will lie down and sleep in the shade.” And so it was, that while she slept the sky grew black with clouds, and when she awoke the cloth was utterly spoilt by the rain. When her father came back from the bath he was very angry, and cried out, “What is this? You, O idler! you, O sleepyhead I you, O useless one! What have you been doing?” And he flogged her till his arm was weary, and drove her away from the house. Then the Lady Langi went weeping to the beach, and gathered many old coconuts, tying them together till she had built up a great heap below high-water mark, and thereon she sat, waiting for the tide, for the reef was dry. Then, when the tide came in, she floated away out to sea on her heap of nuts before the trade-wind, which was blowing gently, and which carried her onwards towards Ra over the waters, as she sat weeping for her father, and her friends, and her home. Two days she drifted onward, and then she spied a great bird flying towards her from afar, and she was afraid, and hid herself among the nuts. Then the bird flew down and settled on the nuts — a bird great and terrible; and the lady said, “If I stay here, I shall die in the midst of the waters. I will fasten myself to this bird, and perhaps it will carry me to land.” So she tied herself to one of its breast feathers, and presently the bird rose again and flew onwards to Ra, carrying her with it, while the nuts were left drifting on the waves. All the night it flew, and just before the morning dawned it came to Kamba, and there lighted down. Now Kamba in those days had no man dweUing thereon; it was empty, and our fathers used to go thither from Bau in the evenings to set their fish-snares, always returning in the morning to take them up. So, when the Lady Langi found herself upon the ground, she untied herself from the feather, and the great bird flew away, leaving her there alone in an empty land.

When the sun had climbed up a little, an old man, a chief among our people, came over in his canoe from Bau to take up his fish-snares; and walking along the beach he met the Lady Langi. When he saw her he was afraid, for she was tall and fair, and like a great lady, and her look was different from the look of the children of Ra. So he cried out and said, “Who are you? You are a god! Let me live!” And she said, “It is you who are a god: I am but a mortal.” Then the old man asked who she was and whence she came, and she told him all, saying, “I am the daughter of the Lord of Nayau, whose land is Lakemba, and many islands are subject to him.”

“Lakemba! Lakemba!” said the old chief. “Where is Lakemba?”

“Over there, far away where the sun rises;” and then she went on to tell him how the rain had spoilt the cloth, and how she could not endure the anger of the king, and so drifted away on the bundle of nuts that she might die in the midst of the waters, and how the great bird had brought her there to Kamba. Then was the old man full of wonder, and he said, “Truly the gods have sent you to me, and I will take you back to the king your father, and to Lakemba your land; for I am a chief among the ‘Dwellers on the Hill’ and our lords of Bau are angry with us, and the mind of the god has been declared that we should sail away and look for a land wherein to dwell. So now I will take you back to your father, and he will be of a good mind to me for your sake, and give me a land whereon I may dwell with my people. Only know this, that I must hide you at Bau till we are ready to go, and you must lie close in my house; for, if any one sees you or hears your voice, you will die; for they will know by your look and by your tongue that you are a stranger.” So he took her back with him to Bau, and when he was near the land he lowered the sail and rolled therein the Lady Langi, and so carried her up to his house, where he laid her in the sail upon the loft above the fireplace. Then he hurried his men on with their work, fearing lest the lady should be found, and every day he carried her food and drink by stealth; and she lay still and silent for many days till all the canoes were ready for sea. Then he carried her on board, having built a high fence all round the deck-house of his canoe, so that no man could look therein. And there he put her, telling his people that one of the gods had promised to sail with them — only that they must not look into his dwelling-place lest he should be angry and evil should befal them. So they were afraid, and no one dared to look within the fence of the little house, but when they had to pass it they knelt down and crawled lest they should look over the top of the fence and die. And every day the old chief carried the best pieces of their food and put them within the fence for the Lady Langi, so that she dwelt in plenty. The wind was light and the water smooth, and on the second day all the canoes came in safety to Koro; and there the Bu-toni men said, “This land is a good land. Here will we stay. We will go no farther.” So they stayed and became the fishermen of the land, and there they dwell to this day. Thus our fathers went on sailing, some staying here and some there, till those who were left came to Long Island (Vanua Balevu, or Levu). Then they said to the old chief, “Why should we sail — sail — sail continually? Is not this a good and fruitful land? Here let us stay, for why should we die in the midst of the waters?” But the old man said, “No! We will not stay. Let us sail on. There are better lands farther ahead.” But nevertheless his mind was uneasy, and he went in the night to the Lady Langi, and asked her, “Where then is this land of yours? See now we have been sailing many days, and we have not yet found it.” And she said, “Let not your soul be small. It is near. If you sail over there to-morrow you will see an island before the sun goes down. Its name is Thithia, and it is the boundary of our land.” So they sailed, and the wind was fair and took them to Thithia before nightfall. That night they slept on board their canoes, and in the morning they went ashore, the old chief last, taking the Lady Langi with him because they had now come within the boundaries of her father’s land. Now as they were walking along the beach the Thithia women met them with nets in their hands, for they were going out on the reef to fish; and among them was an old woman who had lived long at Lakemba, and who knew the Lady Langi well. So, when she saw her with the Livuka men, she wondered and said, “How like the Lady Langi is that strange lady! Her very face!” Then went she down to the Livuka women and said, “Tell me, is that our Lady Langi whom you have brought? She for whose death we have wept and mourned these many days?”

And they answered scornfully, “You and your Lady Langi! What have we to do with your Sky-Lady? We have brought none of your ladies. Our god only have we carried with us, and he is still on board.” But now the old woman was near to the girl, and saw her and knew her, and fell down before her, kissing her feet and crying, “It is our lady, our dear lady! She lives! She lives! She for whom we have mourned and wept! She has come back again!” and she ran up to the town shouting as she went, “Our lady is not dead! She lives! She has come back to us again — our lady, our dear Lady Langi!” Then all the chiefs and the people came running down to the beach, and great was their joy when they saw their lady alive and well; and great too was their love to the men of Livuka because they had brought her back safe and sound. So they made them large presents, building for them a house and filling it with wealth, there to stay till they could come and fetch it.

And on the morrow our fathers hoisted their sails and went on to Naiau, where also the people did as the Thithia men had done, and gave them a house filled with wealth. One night only did our fathers stay at Naiau, and then, the wind being fair, they sailed away to Lakemba and furled their sails at Wangka-talatha, sending five of their number up to the town to report. So these five walked on towards the town with their turbans on, talking loudly, after the manner of chiefs; and the Lakemba men who were working in their gardens saw them, and said to one another, “See the strangers! Where do they come from? The loudness of their voices! Their turbans! They must be chiefs from a land of chiefs!” and they followed them up to the town. When the five reached the town they asked, “Where is the house of the king?” and went straightway thither that they might tell him the news. Now the king was asleep under his mosquito curtains, and the women in the house were all silent that they might not wake him; but these five men asked in a loud voice, “Where is the Lord of Nayau?” And the women answered in a whisper, “The king sleeps.”

“Wake him then,” said the five. But the women were afraid. However, their loud talk woke him out of his sleep, and he came and sat down before them, asking where they were from, and who they were. “You, O chiefs, whence do you come?”

And they said, “From Ra.”

“From Ra! Ra? Where, then, is Ra?”

“We are from Bau,” they answered.

“Bau! And where is Bau?” So they told him about their land.

“Good, now, is our life,” said the king. “We, the men of Lakemba, thought we were the only people in the world, but now we find that there is another kingdom down at Ra, whose name is Bau. Truly the world is larger than we thought it was.”

“The world, sir,” said the Livuka men, “is still larger than that; for besides this your kingdom and that of Bau, there is that of Great Fiji, which is so large that you could not sail round it with a fair wind in four days. There is also Long Island, which is a land great and full of people, and beyond it are the Yasawas, which, however, are but small; and there the earth ends and all beyond is water. We, the men of Livuka, when we dwelt at Bau, thought that there was no land but that which we could see; but now we have seen all the earth in our sailing to this your kingdom, and know that it is very great indeed. Of a truth, sir, the world is large.”

Then was the king full of wonder, and said, “Woi! Woi! These are great things that we hear. Listen, my people, that you may be wise and know more than your fathers knew. And you, O chiefs, what good thing was it that sent you sailing to this poor land of mine?”

Then the orator, the salt of words, made his report, and told the king how they had come sailing from Bau, bringing with them his daughter, the Lady Langi, that they might rejoice and be glad with him. But the mind of the king was troubled, and he said, “Speak not thus, ye strange chiefs — your words are not just — for we have long ago eaten the death-feast, and our eyes are dry after the weeping for my daughter; and now you say, ‘We have brought her with us.’ Why should you speak thus, and make sore my soul?”

Then said our fathers, “Let there not be even so much as a little doubt in your mind as to the truth of our words. Why should we come here bringing a lie? Is it not easy to come at the truth? If we do not bring your child, then let us die.”

Then did their words pierce the soul of the king, and he cried out, “You, O chiefs! You are gods! You are gods! O Bulu, Spiritland, have you brought my daughter back to me? But where is she? Have you really brought her hither to this land?”

“She is here, sir,” answered our fathers. “Our canoes are anchored at Wangka-talatha, and we come now to know your mind as to when we shall bring her up to your lordly town. To-day, or to-morrow, or on that day which shall seem good to the great king.”

Then was the king full of joy, and he said, “Not to-day nor to-morrow, O chiefs. Be of a good mind and wait four days that we may make ready all things for you, and welcome you with feasts and presents, as it is right that you should be welcomed, you the great chiefs whom the gods have sent us.” And our fathers said, “Good is the word of the king. We will wait. And now we will go back to our canoes.”

So on the fifth day, when the tide was high, they poled their canoes along the shallows from Wangka-talatha up to the beach below the town, bringing with them the lady, the Lady Langi, and singing the song of the god “Roko-ua.” And on the beach all the Lakemba men were gathered together, waiting to receive their lady, and every one who had a canoe leapt on board, two men to each canoe, in a long line from the shore; and, joining their hands, they made a path for the Lady Langi that she might walk thereon to the land. And down to the shore they brought a bale of native cloth, one end of which lay in the water; and they unrolled the bale as the lady went forward, so that it was her path up to the town, whither the chiefs led her with great respect. And the children of Livuka followed, dancing the dance of spears, and singing the song of the god.

Great was the feasting, and rich the presents given to our fathers. Land also was given them, whereon they built the town of Livuka, where we have dwelt to this day; and hot was the friendship between them and the children of Lakemba, though it was not long before they began to be evil-minded the one towards the other, and war sprang up between them. But if you wish to hear the tale of that war, and how our fathers attacked and took Kendi-kendi, the town of the king, you must ask the Chief Sakinsa, for he knows it all, having heard all about it from his fathers; and his mind is even as a book, wherein are written plainly all things that the men of Livuka did in the old, old days.

Well — we were many, and the land was small; so our fathers said: “Let some of us go on board our great canoe with our wives and our children, and sail farther on; for it may be that the gods will give us a dwelling-place in the lands to windward.” So they sailed and came to Oneata, and danced there the dance of spears. From Oneata they hoisted their sails, steering for Vatoa, and there, too, they danced the dance of spears; but the land did not please them, nor could they see any other farther on, though they climbed to the top of the highest hill. Then they said, “This is the end of the earth. There is now nothing but water beyond this land. Let us go on board and sail back again to Lakemba.” But it so fell out that, while they were dancing, two gods, who lived in the hollow stump of a tree, heard the clashing of the spears and the tramp of feet, and the song of the god. So they said, “What is this? What new thing is this?” and put up their heads to look at the strangers. Now there was on board the canoe one of the Livuka men, who did not go on shore with the rest, because he was a leper, and he saw the two gods peeping out of the hollow stump. Then he called loudly to his fellows: “ Ya! Ya! Here! Come here! Make haste!” But they would not come; and still he called till they were angry, and some of the young men ran down to the beach and cursed him for breaking in upon their dance and song. But still he said, “Come here! Come here quickly!” and told them about the two gods that he had seen.

Then they said, “Make haste! Loose the stay of the mast!” and they loosed the stay, and crept up with it in their hands to the hollow stump, hiding themselves behind it, and after they had made a running noose in the end of the rope which they put over the top of the stump, they signed to the rest to go on with the dance of the spears and the song of the god. So the dance and the song went on again, and, as soon as the two gods lifted their heads above the stump, the young men pulled the rope and the gods were caught in the running noose. Then all the men of Livuka came running down brandishing their weapons, and crying, “You two, who have been looking at our dance, you shall both die!”

At this the two gods said, “Let us live, and we will be the gods of your houses.” But our fathers said, “No! We want no gods for our houses. You shall die!”

“Let us live, and we will be the gods of your sailing.”

“No! We sail whithersoever we please. We want no gods for our sailing. You must die!”

“Let us live, that we may be the gods of your wars.”

“No! We hill-dwellers are chiefs. When we are hungry, we kill our enemies. We make war by our own might, and they flee — our enemies, they fly before us. We want no gods to fight our battles. You must die!”

“Let us live, and we will take you to a land whereon you may dwell,” said the gods, weeping bitterly.

“A land! What land?” cried our fathers.

“Its name is Ono,” answered the gods. “A land great and pleasant. See, the wind is now fair. Hoist your sail, and we will take you thither. To-night shall you fasten your canoes to the shore.”

Then said our fathers: “It is well. Take us to Ono, and you shall live. Look now, we will bind you and carry you on board, and if we find you have lied to us, we will eat you.”

So they bound the two gods, and laid them down on the deck of the canoe with their feet towards the land to which they were sailing, and this they did because the two gods told them so to do; but it would have been better if they had not listened to their deceitful words, for then would Ono have been much nearer to Lakemba than it is at this day.

The wind was fair, and not long had they sailed before they saw the land, the land of Ono, and their hearts were glad, for they said, “Here now, at last, have we found a place wherein we may dwell;” but as they neared the shore it went back before them, and they sailed and sailed and sailed, but still the land was far away. Then the old man, the leper, crept forward and watched the two gods, and he found that as the canoe drew near the island, they kicked out with their feet; and when they kicked, the land went backwards, and this is the reason why Ono is now so far from Lakemba.

So he told the rest, and their anger was hot against the two gods, even to striking them with their clubs, so that they cried out and said, “Kill us not; only turn us round that we may not push away the land with our feet.” So they turned the gods round with their feet towards the stern of the canoe, and soon after reached the land, and anchored their canoe within the passage. Then they went ashore, leaving the children on board, and saying to them, “See that you do not loose these two deceitful ones. Watch them well, or they will do you a mischief; and we too, your fathers, we will make you eat of the whip.” So they went ashore, dancing the spear-dance and singing the song of the god; and the people of Ono took them by the hand and welcomed them, and when they had heard their report they gave them much land whereon to dwell, and there they live even to this day.

But, when the elder ones had gone ashore, the two gods began to beg the children to unloose them, saying, “You, O children of chiefs, untie our bonds and we will teach you a song — a new song, a beautiful song.” And the children said, “Let us untie them.” Thus they spoke all but one lad, whose soul was ripe, and he cried, “No, no! Untie them not. Have you already forgotten the words of our fathers? The whip is ready for us!” But they all said, “We will loose their bonds, that we may learn this beautiful song;” so they untied their hands and their feet, and let them go. Then the two gods said, “Do you sit down on the deck, and we two will climb the mast. and sing you our beautiful song.” So the children all sat down, while the two gods climbed the mast and sang: —

“Tuvana inland! Tuvana below!
Nasali is plainly in sight.
Burotu, we two are hiding it.”

These are little islands which you may see from the mast of a canoe in the Ono passage; excepting Burotu, and that we have never been able to find. It has been sometimes seen with the sun shining full upon it; but, when those who have seen it have steered towards it, it has grown fainter and fainter till it has vanished away like a cloud. The Matuku people say that sometimes burnt-out fishing torches of a strange make, with handles of shell, drift ashore on their land, and when they pick them up they say, “See the torches from Burotu!” And we know that in our day the chief called Mara — he who was hanged at Bau for rebellion — swore by the dead that he would find that land, and went sailing after it for many days; but he found it not, nor has any one else ever trodden it since the day that the two gods hid it from our eyes.

Well, they two sang that song to the children; and the children clapped their hands and said, “The song is a good song — the song is a good song.” But all the while the two evil ones were pulling downwards on the mast as hard as they could, and so hard did they pull that they pressed the canoe under water, and all the children were drowned. So that when the Livuka men came down again to the beach their canoe was sunk, and they saw nothing but the dead bodies of the children washed hither and thither by the waves. That was a day of much weeping as they buried their little ones along the shore; and still to this day, when the moon shines by night on the Ono passage, you may hear the voices of the drowned children singing, and this is ever the song which they sing:—

“Tuvana inland! Tuvana below!
Nasali is plainly in sight.
Burotu, they two are hiding it.”

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