How the Mosquitos Came to Oneata

A great stay-at-home was he; and indeed there was no saiUng about in those days, for there were no canoes. But when the great Serpent-god brought the great flood upon the tribe of the Mataisau (or “Boat-builders”) because they killed Turu-kawa, his dove, then certain of them drifted to Kambara. Twelve of them were they who drifted thither; and they had tied themselves to a big tree, which floated with them over the waters. Ten were living, and two were dead, having been killed by the sharks as they drifted over the sea. So these ten landed at Kambara, and begged their lives of the chiefs, who spared them, making them their carpenters; and this was the beginning of our having canoes up here to Windward.

Now the men of Kambara, in those days, were eaten up by mosquitos. No rest had they, day or night, because of them; and the noise of the beating was heard continually in every house, as the women beat the bark into cloth to make mosquito-curtains, till their arms ached and were sore weary. Neither had they the Kekeo, that excellent shell-fish; though in these days it is found all along the beach, and the inland lake at Vuang-gava (near Kambara) is full of it, while never a mosquito is there to wake them out of their sleep. And that which brought about this blessed change was the wisdom of their god Tuwara, who dwelt with them in the olden time, ruling them as a chief; even as the god of our fathers ruled here at Oneata.

Happy is the country where the gods are wise: but woe to the land whose god is a fool!

A wise one and cunning was Tuwara; therefore he rejoiced greatly when the Boat-builders drifted to his land, and told him of the wonderful vessels which they could build, wherein men could sail across the seas, even in stormy weather, and live. Glad of heart was he; because he saw what good things might come out of his sailing: he saw, moreover, that his land was full of splendid timber; and he set the ten carpenters to work at once, giving them food, and houses, and wives, that they might forget their weeping for those who were lost; for their beautiful town which was swallowed up by the waves; and for the great and mighty kingdom, now gone from them for ever. So they settled down at Kambara, with their wives, and (in due time) with their little ones, working hard every day at the double canoe that they were building for the god.

Two years and more were they in building it; for in those days there were no knives, nor hatchets, nor gouges, nor saws, nor gimlets in Fiji. Weary then was the work of canoe-building; for sharp stones were our only hatchets; and we used to burn the logs with fire, on the side which we wanted to cut, chopping off the charcoal with our stone axes, and then burning again: so that many were the burnings, and many the choppings before so much as one plank was finished; while, for boring holes, we had nothing but a pointed shell and a small firebrand.

Nevertheless the canoe was finished at last, and dragged down to the sea. Great then were the rejoicings in Kambara, and rich the feast that was made for the Boat-builders: but Tuwara could not rest till he sailed away beyond the reef out into the open sea. So he hurried on the work; and, when all was ready — mast, sail, ropes, sculls, steering-oars, poles; even all the fittings — then went he on board, with the ten carpenters as his crew, and a great crowd of his people besides; and sailed away before a pleasant breeze; all the Kambarans, who were on board, singing a merry song; while their friends, who stayed behind, ran along the beach, shouting after them.

But, when the canoe began to pitch and roll among the waves outside, it was not long before the merry chant was changed into a chorus of groans; and all the singers lay sprawling along the deck; not a man of them being able so much as to lift his head; for they were all very sick.

“Here, now, is a terrible thing!” moaned Tuwara. “What is this, ye carpenters? What is this fearful sickness? Oh, my soul is gone. Villains that you are, to bring me into this evil case!”

But the Boat-builders only laughed. “Let not your soul be small, my lord,” said they. “Wait a little while and your trouble will be over. It is always thus when we first put to sea.” Wherewith Tuwara comforted himself, as best he might; and the canoe went swiftly onward before the pleasant breeze, till Oneata rose out of the waters in their course.

Then said Malani, the greybeard, eldest of the Boat-builders, “There is land, sir, ahead. Shall we steer for it; or whither do you wish to go?”

“Steer for it, by all means,” groaned Tuwara. “Let me but get to land once more!”

So they went to Oneata: and, when our fathers saw them coming, they were sore afraid, and hid themselves in the forest; for they took the canoe for some great living sea-monster coming to devour them: wherefore the town was empty when the strangers landed; and Tuwara threw himself down on the mats in the king’s house, saying, “Now I live!” But when, peeping out from their hiding places, they saw that the Kambarans were men, even as themselves, and that they went about peaceably doing no harm, their souls came back to them again; and, when they had heard the strangers’ report, they took courage, and went down to the beach to see the canoe, whereat they wondered greatly.

Many days did Tuwara stay at Oneata, living in great peace and friendship with the god of that island; for the Kambarans were loth to depart from so good a land as ours, where no mosquitos drank their blood by night, and where they ate the shellfish every day to the filling of their stomachs. And, when they went away, they took the god of Oneata with them, that he might see their land, and that they might return to him and to his men the kindness wherewith they had been treated at Oneata. So these two gods sailed and were seasick together, though the wind was light — so light that the sun was near going down into the waters when they reached Kambara. Then they landed, and went up to the great house, where a rich feast was all made ready and waiting for them, the people having seen them coming afar off.

After they had eaten their fill, and when the kava-bowl was empty, the god of Oneata began to yawn; for he was tired and sleepy.

“Come with me, friend,” said Tuwara. And he took im within the great mosquito curtain.

“What is this?” asked the Oneata god, in great surprise at the bigness thereof, and the beauty of the painting. “A wonderful piece of cloth is this! We have none such in my land. But why do you keep it thus hung up, Tuwara? What, then, is its use?”

“Its use,” answered the other — “its use, do you ask? It is a useful thing. It is useful as a — yes, as a screen to hide me, when I wish to sleep. Therefore do I keep it thus hung up in the midst of the house. And, moreover, it is very useful when the wind blows strong and cold. But let us sleep now, and in the morning I will show you the town.”

Thus spake Tuwara, because he was ashamed of the mosquitos; for he knew that there were none at Oneata; and he wanted to hide from his companion the thing which was the plague of his land. Wherefore he lied to him about the curtain.

Not long was it after darkness had closed in, before the house was full of mosquitos, and the god of Oneata heard them buzzing in thousands outside the curtain, just as he was dozing off to sleep.

“What is that?” cried he. “What sweet sound is that?”

“What can I say to him now?” thought Tuwara in great perplexity; and not being able to think of anything, he pretended to be asleep, and answered only with a snore.

“Hi! Tuwara!” shouted the Oneata god, punching him into wakefulness. “Wake up, Tuwara, and tell me what sweet sounds are these.”

“Eh? What? What’s the matter?” said Tuwara with a yawn.

“What are those pleasant sounds? Truly a sweet and soothing note is that which I now hear.”

“Pleasant sounds? Ah, yes — the buzzing. Oh, that’s only the mosquitos.”

“And what are mosquitos? “ asked his companion.

“They are little insects that fly in the air by night and buzz. I keep them to sing me to sleep,” said the artful Tuwara.

“A treasure indeed!” cried the other god. “Woe is me that there are none at Oneata. Give them to me, Tuwara.”

“Give you my mosquitos! I dare not, indeed. My people would never forgive me. They would hate me, and rebel. Wretched indeed should we be if there were no mosquitos on Kambara.”

“Well, then, give me some of them,” pleaded his companion. “Give me some, and keep some yourself, that we may both have them.”

“It is impossible,” replied the cunning one. “They are a loving tribe. If I send even a few of them away, all the rest will leave me. Truly my soul is sore in that I must refuse you, Wakuli-kuli; but refuse you I must. And now let us sleep, for my word is spoken.”

“No, no!” whined the foolish god, in a voice that was neighbour to crying: “refuse me not, I beseech you. Give me the mosquitos, that I may take them to our land; and, when we hear their song in the night, we shall think of you, and say to our children, ‘Great is the love of Tuwara.’”

“That, indeed, is a tempting thought,” said the Kambara god. “ Glad should I be for you to hold us in loving remembrance. But what am I to say to my people 1 How can I appease their anger when they rage against me, saying, ‘Our god has given away for nothing our dear mosquitos?’” And his voice fell heavy on the words “for nothing.”

“For nothing!” cried the other. “No, truly! All that I have is yours. Name anything that you saw in my land, and you shall have it; only let the insects be mine that sing this pleasant song.”

“Well then — I do not ask for myself. Gladly would I give you freely anything that is mine; but my people, friend, my people! You know these children of men, and their ways, how covetous they are. And what is there in your land that would satisfy them? Of a truth I cannot think of anything at all. Ah, yes! There is the shellfish! That will do. That is the very thing for these people. Fill but their stomachs, and you can do anything with them. Give me the shellfish, friend, and my mosquitos are yours.”

“Willingly, willingly!” cried the other in an eager voice. “It’s a bargain, Tuwara. And now let us lift up the curtain and let some of them in, that I may see them.”

“Forbear!” cried Tuwara, starting up in a great fright, lest the mosquitos should get at his companion and bite him, and he thereby repent of his bargain. “Forbear! Lift not the curtain, friend, lift it not! A modest tribe and a bashful are they; nor can they bear to be looked upon: therefore do they hide themselves by day, and it is in the darkness only that they sing their pleasant song.”

“Wou! wou!” exclaimed the silly one. “Wonderful things do I hear! The curtain shall remain unlifted.”

“And now, do let us sleep,” said Tuwara; “for it is far into the night; and we will sail together in the morning, taking with us the mosquitos.”

So they ceased talking, but neither of them slept; for he of Oneata was listening all night to the song of the biters; and Tuwara was chuckling to himself over the good bargain he had made; being, moreover, fearful that the foolish god would find him out before he could get the shellfish. “I must not let him rise too early,” thought he, “lest there should perhaps be still some of them flying about the house.”

But his companion was stirring with the first streak of dawn. “Wake, Tuwara, wake!” cried he. “Give me the mosquitos, and let us go.”

“Isa, isa!” said the other, with a great yawn. “What a restless one you are! Here you have kept me awake all night with your talking; and now you want me to rise before it is day! Lie still, Wakuli-kuli; lie still yet for a little while. This is just about the time when the mosquitos are gathering together to fly away to the cave, where they sleep till night comes again over the land: and, if we go among them now, we shall disturb them, causing them to flee hither and thither, so that we shall not be able to “catch them for you to-day.”

“That would indeed be an unlucky chance,” said he from Oneata. “Let us by all means lie still, and wait till they be fairly asleep.”

But, so great was his eagerness, that he could not rest. Sorely did he plague Tuwara; starting up every little rhWt, and crying out, “Do you think they are asleep yet, Tuwara?” or “Surely by this time they are all in the cave”: and with many suchlike foolish words did he vex the soul of the Kambara god, till he waxed very wroth, and would have smitten him with his club, but for his hope of the shellfish. Therefore he kept his temper, putting the silly one off from time to time, with soothing words, till it was broad day; and then he said, “Now will they be all asleep. Come, friend, rise, and let us sail.”

How he got the mosquitos together we do not know; but our fathers said he shut them all up in a big basket, which was lined inside, and covered with fine mats, through the plait whereof not even a little one could crawl. And, when this basket was carried on board the canoe, they hoisted the sail, and went out, through the passage, into the open sea, steering for Oneata.

Terribly seasick were they both: but neither of them cared so much for it this time; he of Oneata being cheered by the thought of his sweet singers; and Tuwara because he was now well rid of them, and moreover because of the shellfish; wherefore were they both content to suffer.

The sun was still high in the heavens when they furled their sail at Oneata; and the Oneata god leaped on shore, crying aloud, “Come hither, my people. Come hither, all of you, and see the good things I have brought. Hand down the basket, Tuwara, that the hearts of my people may be glad.”

“Not so!” answered the cunning Tuwara. “The mosquitos are a loving folk, as I told you before; and if we were to let them go while I am in sight, they will not leave the canoe; for they love me, friend, they love me. Give me therefore the shellfish, and I will depart, leaving the great basket with you. And, if you are wise, you will not open it till I am beyond the reef, lest the mosquitos should fly after me, and leave you.”

“True!” quoth the foolish god. “True are your words, Tuwara. A wise god are you; for you think of everything. Come from the beach, from the sea, from the rocks, ye shellfish! Come! for your lord is calling!”

Then from the rocks, from the sea, from the beach, came the shellfish, crawling over the sand, a great multitude. And the Boat-builders threw them into the canoe, our fathers also helping, till it was full, and heaped high above the deck, and there was not one shellfish left on the land.

“Go now, Tuwara,” cried his companion, “give me the basket and go; for the shellfish are all on board.”

So Tuwara handed down the basket, while the Boat-builders hoisted the great sail, and soon the canoe was gliding swiftly away towards the passage; while the Oneata men crowded round the basket, asking their god all manner of eager questions as to its contents.

“It must be something wonderful,” said they, “or our lord would never have parted with the shellfish.”

“Wait and see,” quoth the god, with a self-satisfied smile.

As soon as the canoe had cleared the reef, he untied the fastenings of the basket, and lifted the mat wherewith it was covered. “Here is our treasure,” cried the foolish god.

Then uprose the mosquitos in a cloud, fierce and angry; and Tuwara could hear the screams and yells of our fathers, as they smarted under the sharp bites of the savage insects.

“The god of Oneata’s sweet singers have begun their song,” said he, as soon as he could speak for laughing. “Many fools have I met with among the children of men, but never such a fool as the god of Oneata.”

Many were the schemes which the miserable god tried to rid himself of the plague he had bought so dearly; but they were all in vain, for the mosquitos increased in numbers day by day; and their night-song, that sounded so sweetly in his ears when he first heard it at Kambara, became more fearful to him than the war-cry of an enemy.

Many plots, also, did he lay to get back the shellfish; but what chance had such an one as he in plotting against Tuwara! Once, indeed, after some years, when he had a canoe of his own, he went over to Kambara in the night, making sure of getting them. And standing on the beach he cried aloud: “Come from the shore, from the sea, from the rocks, ye shellfish! Come, for your lord is calling!” but not one of them came — it was as if they heard him not.

There was one, however, who heard him — even Tuwara, who had seen him coming, and lain in wait for him. Creeping therefore softly up behind him, he smote him full on the head with his club, crying aloud, “O villainous god! Would you steal my shellfish?” and drove him howling down to his canoe.

Thus the Kekeo, that excellent shellfish, was lost to us; and thus it was that “The Mosquitos came to Oneata.”

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