The Methodical Mr. Burr of Majuro

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The Methodical Mr. Burr of Majuro
Louis Becke
One day Ned Burr, a fellow trader, walked slowly up the path to my station, and with a friendly nod sat down and watched intently as, with native assistance, I set about salting some pork. Ned lived thirty miles from my place, on a little island at the entrance to the lagoon. He was a prosperous man, and only drank under the pressure of the monotony caused by the non-arrival of a ship to buy his produce. He would then close his store, and, aided by a number of friendly male natives start on a case of gin. But never a woman went into Ned's house, though many visited the store, where Ned bought their produce, paid for it in trade or cash, and sent them off, after treating them on a strictly business basis.
Now the Marshall Island women much resented this. Since Ned's wife had died, ten years previously, the women, backed by the chiefs, had made most decided, but withal diplomatic, assaults upon his celibacy. The old men had respectfully reminded him that his state of singleness was a direct slight to themselves as leading men. If he refused to marry again he surely would not cast such a reflection upon the personal characters of some two or three hundred young girls as to refuse a few of them the position of honorary wives pro tem., or until he found one whom he might think worthy of higher honours. But the slow-thinking, methodical trader only opened a bottle of gin, gave them fair words and a drink all round, and absolutely declined to open any sort of matrimonial negotiations.
'I'm come to hev some talk with you when you've funshed saltin',' he said, as he rose and meditatively prodded a junk of meat with his forefinger.
'Right, old man I said. 'I'll come now, and we went into the big room and sat down.
'Air ye game ter come and see me get married?' he asked, looking away past me, through the open door, to where the surf thundered and tumbled on the outer reef
'Ned, I said, solemnly, 'I know you don't joke, so you must mean it. Of course I will. I'm sure all of us fellows will be delighted to hear you're going to get some nice little carajz1 to lighten up that big house of yours over there. Who's the girl, Ned?'
'Le-jennabon.'
'Whew!' I said, 'why she's the daughter of the biggest chief on Arhnu. I didn't think any white man could get her, even if he gave her people a boat-load of dollars as a wedding-gift.'
'Well, no,' said Ned, stroking his beard meditatively, 'I suppose I should feel a bit set up; but two years ago her people said that, because I stood to them in the matter of some rifles when they had trouble with King Jibberick, I could take her. She was rather young then, any way, but I've been over to Arhnu several times, and I've had spies out, and damn me if I ever could hear a whisper against her. I'm told for sure that her father and uncles would ha'e killed anyone that came after her. So I'm a-goin to take her and chance it.'
'Ned,' I said, 'you know your own affairs and these people better than I do. Yet are you really going to pin your faith on a Marshall Island girl? You are not like any of us traders. You see, we know what to expect sometimes, and our morals are a lot worse than those of the natives. And it doesn't harrow our feelings much if any one of us has to divorce a wife and get another; it only means a lot of new dresses and some guzzling, drinking, and speechifying, and some bother in teaching the new wife how to make bread. But your wife that died was a Manhikian--another kind. They don't breed that sort here in the Marshalls. Think of it twice, Ned, before you marry her.'
The girl was a beauty. There are many like her in that far-away cluster of coral atolls. That she was a chief's child it was easy to see; the abject manner in which the commoner natives always behaved themselves in her presence showed their respect for Le-jennabon. Of course we all got very jolly. There were half a dozen of us traders there, and we were, for a wonder, all on friendly terms. Le-jennabonsat on a fine mat in the big room, and in a sweetly dignified manner received the wedding gifts. One of our number, Charlie de Buis, though in a state of chronic poverty, induced by steadfast adherence to square gin at five dollars a case, made his offerings--agold locket covering a woman's miniature, a heavy gold ring, and a pair of