Susāni, page 9 by Louis Becke
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er those who die? As you sail down the lagoon you will meet canoes coming up from Funâfala bringing the dead. I cannot go there to bury them."
It was nearly midnight when we put off from the schooner's side, but with Suka as pilot we ran quickly down to the island. A few natives met us as we stepped on shore, and to these we gave the provisions we had brought, telling them to divide them equally. Then with Suka leading, and carrying a lighted torch made from the spathe of the cocoanut tree, we made our way through the darkened forest to the house in which Susâni and her people were living. It was situated on the verge of the shore, on the weather side of the narrow island, so as to be exposed to the cooling breath of the trade wind, and consisted merely of a roof of thatch with open sides, and the ground within covered with coarse mats, upon which we saw were lying three figures.
Making as little noise as possible Suka called out a name, and a man threw off his sleeping mat and came out; it was Susâni's adopted father.
"No," he said in his simple manner, in answer to our inquiries, "Susâni is not yet dead, but she will die at dawn when the tide is low. 'Tis now her last sleep."
Stepping very softly inside the house so as not to disturb her, we sat down to wait her awakening. Suka crouched near us, smoking his pipe in silence, and watching the sleeping girl to see if she moved.
Just as the weird cries of the tropic birds heralded the approach of dawn, the woman who lay beside Susâni rose and looked into her face. Then she bade us come nearer.
"She is awake."
The child knew us at once, even in that imperfect light, for the moment Senior and myself stood up she tried to raise herself into a sitting posture; in an instant Suka sprang to her aid and pillowed her head upon his knees; weak as she was, she put out her hand to us, and then let it lie in the mate's broa