r hands to their brows to
conjure up a vision of this dead man whom their grandfathers had
fought and slain, as I told them the story of his death in the
jungle at our feet.

It was at Vait-hua that the French first took possession of the
Marquesas. Here already were missionaries and beach-combers of many
nationalities, ardent spirits all, fighting each other for the souls
of the natives; gin and the commandments at odds, ritual and
exploitation contending. Unable to subdue the forces that threatened
the peace of his people, Iotete, Vait-hua's chief, sent a message
asking the help of the French admiral. It came at once; a garrison
was established on the beach, and the tricolor rose.

Whatever the cause, it had been upraised barely two months when
chief and people in a body deserted their homes and fled to the hills.
Commander Halley, having vainly exhorted and commanded them to return,
declared war on them in punishment for their disobedience, and
marshaling his forces in three columns set out to seek them.

Ladebat led the van, armed with a fowling-piece. Halley himself
walked at the head of the middle column, a youthful, debonair
Frenchman, carrying only a cane, which he swung jauntily as he
followed the jungle trail. When the soldiers arrived at a few feet
from the main body of the natives, Iotete advanced and cried out,
"_Tapu!_"

Ladebat instantly fired his shot-gun at the chief, and instantly two
balls from native guns pierced his brain.

"Halley," runs the old chronicle, "advanced from the shelter of a
cocoanut-tree to give orders to his men, but fell on his knees as if
in prayer, embracing the tree, three paces from the corpse of Ladebat.
Five of his men dropped mortally wounded beside him. Third Officer
Laferriere had the retreat sounded."

Here, but a few feet from the spot where the gay young Frenchman fell,
the jungle had covered his tomb. Fifty thousand Marquesans have died
to bring peace to the soul of that _corvette_ commander who so
jauntily flourished his cane in the faces of the wondering savages.
Iotete would better have endured the pranks of brutal sea-adventurers,
perhaps. This mausoleum was the seal of French occupancy.

Farther down the hill we came upon the first church built in the
Marquesas. It was a small wooden edifice bearing a weatherbeaten
sign in French, "The Church of the Mother of God." Above the
shattered doors were two carven hearts, a red dagger through one and
a red flame