Among many others we made the acquaintance of a man who had been in Samoa, blown there in a storm. There were with him one other man and three little girls. It began to blow, he said, the sea rose very high, and the air and sky grew black. Suddenly his boat capsized and "my girls," he said, "swim--swim--swim in the sea." With their help he got the boat righted and gathered up what he could of his cargo, green cocoanuts and copra, and ran for Samoa. "Was any one frightened?" I asked. "Only the other man," he said. We met two of his little girls; one seemed clever and had picked up a little Samoan and a little English while she was in Apia. We asked her name. "Anna," she proudly answered. The other called herself Anna Maria.
Lloyd had photographed the King in his royal robes, a pair of white duck trousers and a black velveteen coat; over all was worn a sort of black cloth poncho bordered with gold fringe. Suspended from the neck of royalty was a tinsel star and on his head a crown of red and white pandanus leaves. Later in the evening he appeared in a pair of black trousers and a frock coat. In common with his subjects, the King is not of commanding stature. None of the islanders we have yet seen on this cruise can compare with the Kingsmill people in haughty grace of carriage, nor are they in any way so fine a race physically though most charming in manner. After dinner, finding the trader's wife and the missionary's wife having tea on deck, I gave them each a wreath, which delighted them extremely. We hired a native boat to take us on shore again for the evening; the man to whom the boat belonged begged us to go to his house, but I wished first to take a present, a print dress, to Anna.
Found Anna's house and gave my present. We were offered cocoanuts, to our great embarrassment, but Louis fortunately thought of saying "paea" (a rather vulgar Tahitian word signifying "I am full to repletion"). They understood at once and seemed greatly amused. Anna gave me a hat of her own manufacture and then we went with the boatman to his house. A party of young girls followed us, wrangling together as to which had chosen me first. It seemed to be settled amicably, for one girl ran up to me while the rest held back, and catching me by the hand said: "You belong me." The boatman's wife, a sensible-looking woman with a pathetic smile, was ill, he said; we were afterward told that she had consumption. Again cocoanuts, and once more we got off with "paea." When we left, the lady presented me with a large mat and a fine hat. I had nothing with me to give in return, so took the wreath from my own hat (I always wear one in case of an emergency) and also gave her an orange (a rare luxury) I had in my pocket. I afterward sent her a piece of print of the best quality. From the boatman's we went to the speak-house, where the dancers were assembled. As we came out of the bush toward the main road we heard a clapping of hollow sticks and whelp-like cries; at intervals a sentence was shouted. It was curfew. At eight o'clock several high officials parade the street, clapping sticks together and crying out: "Remain within your houses." No one obeys, but it is etiquette to keep off the main road when the officers march. We saw that the people kept to the coral on either side, so we did the same. When we first came on shore this evening, Louis, seeing a little girl about four carrying a naked boy, patted him on the shoulder; he howled, whereupon the little girl laughed and ran away. As we waited for the procession to pass, the little girl came up behind Louis in the darkness and, slipping her hand in his, nestled close to him. Her name was Fani, also Etetera; she was neat as a little statue, as tight as india-rubber; so was her sister; so was "Johnny Bull," who had walked hand in hand with Louis all afternoon. The type is well marked: forehead high and narrow, cheek-bones high and broad, nose aquiline and depressed (the depression probably artificial), the mouth large, with finely chiselled lips, the bow of the upper lip sharply defined, the eyes, of course, admirable; and altogether there is a strong appearance of good nature and good sense.