The Colonial Mortuary Bard; "'Reo," The Fisherman; and The Black Bream Of Australia

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Becke Louis. The Colonial Mortuary Bard; "'Reo," The Fisherman; and The Black Bream Of Australia

THE COLONIAL MORTUARY BARD

“‘REO,” THE FISHERMAN

THE BLACK BREAM OF AUSTRALIA

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‘Reo was a short, squat Malayan, with a face like a skate, barring his eyes, which were long, narrow slits, apparently expressing nothing but supreme indifference to the world in general. But they would light up sometimes with a merry twinkle when the old rogue would narrate some of his past villainies.

He came to Samoa in the old, old days—long before Treaties, and Imperial Commissioners, and other gilded vanities were dreamt of by us poor, hard-working traders. He seemed to have dropped from the sky when one afternoon, as Tom Denison, the supercargo, and some of his friends sat on Charley the Russian’s verandah, drinking lager, he marched up to them, sat down on the steps, and said, “Good evening.”

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The pipe described a semicircle. “Oh, to-morrow night—before, perhaps.”

They gave him some tobacco and matches, and four Bolivian “iron” half-dollars. He got up and went across to Volkner’s combined store and grog shanty, over the way.

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