"Next we sailed for the Marquesas. They were beautiful, but the natives
were nearly extinct. Dad was cut up when he learned that the French
charged an export duty on copra--he called it medieval--but he liked the
land. There was a valley of fifteen thousand acres on Nuka-hiva, half
inclosing a perfect anchorage, which he fell in love with and bought for
twelve hundred Chili dollars. But the French taxation was outrageous
(that was why the land was so cheap), and, worst of all, we could obtain
no labour. What kanakas there were wouldn't work, and the officials
seemed to sit up nights thinking out new obstacles to put in our way.
"Six months was enough for Dad. The situation was hopeless. 'We'll go
to the Solomons,' he said, 'and get a whiff of English rule. And if
there are no openings there we'll go on to the Bismarck Archipelago. I'll
wager the Admiraltys are not yet civilized.' All preparations were made,
things packed on board, and a new crew of Marquesans and Tahitians
shipped. We were just ready to start to Tahiti, where a lot of repairs
and refitting for the _Miele_ were necessary, when poor Dad came down
sick and died."
"And you were left all alone?"
Joan nodded.
"Very much alone. I had no brothers nor sisters, and all Dad's people
were drowned in a Kansas cloud-burst.
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