Ralph Stock

Summary

Ralph Stock The Eleventh Hour (1915)

The clearing had been enlarged, and now, instead of one solitary figure engaged in the strange process of preparation for war, there were quite a hundred—a hundred strapping Samoans in trim white kilts, each bearing a weapon of sorts. Akanesi was not to know that these ranged from twelve-bore shot-guns loaded with rusty nails to "twenty-two" rook rifles. She only knew that it thrilled her strangely to see these fine men standing in symmetrical lines and moving as one man in answer to commands that Tommie—their Tommie—snapped at them.
Source: Wikisource

Ralph Stock The Eleventh Hour (1915)

Things came to such a pass that one day Akanesi made up her own mind—a dangerous thing for any Samoan woman to do. She told herself that she could no longer watch Tommie and her husband drifting away from her and hold her peace. She would inform the authorities in Apia; perhaps that would put a stop to it.
It was quite by chance that Weslie, hurrying back from the clearing in the bush, met her on the beach road, empty-handed. Island women never move from their villages without a purpose, and what other purpose should they have than to carry water in bamboos or baskets of taro or fish?
Source: Wikisource

Ralph Stock The Eleventh Hour (1915)

She followed at a discreet distance with a wariness of foot only possible to a Samoan native, and presently, from behind a friendly pandanus trunk, looked out on a strange scene. Tommie had reached a disused clearing in the bush, and, methodically divesting himself of his dirty duck jacket, seized his yakawood stick and sprang into an attitude of rigid attention, at the same time uttering a strange noise that sounded like "Shun!" Then followed a series of evolutions which convinced Akanesi that her mascot was either mad or engaged in the strenuous business of propitiating his gods.
Source: Wikisource

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