Hawaii - James Michener [192]
When it came time for the Thetis to carry the missionaries to Honolulu, Abner discovered the thrill that ugly memories yield when they have receded with their pain, for he was to bunk in his old stateroom and John Whipple would share it; but his pleasure was considerably dampened when a canoe arrived from the other end of Maui bearing the missionary Abraham Hewlett, his handsome little boy Abner, and his Hawaiian wife, Malia, the native pronunciation of Mary.
"Are they sailing with us?" Abner asked suspiciously.
"Of course. If we don't have them, we don't have a trial."
"Won't it be embarrassing if Hewlett's on the same ship with us?"
"Not for me. I'm voting for him."
"Do you think hell be put in our stateroom?"
"He shared it with us once," Whipple replied.
The two missionaries looked with interest as Mrs. Hewlett, if anyone so dark could be given that name, came aboard the Thetis. She was taller than her husband, very broad-shouldered and grave of manner. She spoke to the little boy in a soft voice, and Abner whispered in disgust, "Is she talking to that child in Hawaiian?"
"Why not?" Dr. Whipple asked.
"My children are not allowed to speak a word of Hawaiian," Abner replied emphatically. " 'Learn not the way of the heathen!' the Bible directs us. Do your children speak Hawaiian?"
"Of course," Whipple replied with some impatience.
"That's very unwise!” Abner warned.
"We live in Hawaii. We work here. Probably my boys will go to school here."
"Mine won't," Abner said firmly.
"Where will you send them?" John asked with some interest, for he often discussed the matter with his wife.
"The Board will send them to New England. Then to Yale. But the important thing is that they never come into contact with Hawaiians." Dr. Whipple watched the Hewletts cross the deck and go down the hatchway aft, and the manner in which the Hawaiian woman watched over little Abner Hewlett proved that whereas she might have crept into the father's bed by some trick or other, she certainly loved the child.
"Boy's lucky," Whipple said. "He's got a good mother."
"She doesn't look the way I expected," Abner confessed.
"You expected a painted whore?" Whipple laughed. "Abner, once in a while you ought to look at the reality of life."
"How did she become a Christian?" Abner pondered.
"Abraham Hewlett took her into the church," Whipple explained.
There was a thoughtful pause, and then Aimer asked, "But how could they have been married? I mean, if Hewlett was the only minister who could have married them?"
"For the first year nobody did."
"You mean, they lived in sin?"
"And then I came along ... on one of my regular trips. I was in a Russian ship."
"And you married a Christian minister to a heathen?" Abner asked, aghast.
"Yes. I'm probably going to be censured, too," Whipple said dryly. "And I have a suspicion in here," and he touched his heart, "that I won't accept the censure. I stand with St. Paul: 'It is better to marry than to burn.' Can anyone seriously doubt that Abraham is better off today than he was when you left him in Wailuku?"
The meeting in Honolulu went as expected. At first Abraham Hewlett made a sorry spectacle of himself, confessing that in marrying the Hawaiian girl Malia he had sinned against the decrees of God, thus bringing degradation upon both himself and the church. He begged forgiveness, asking the brethren to remember that he had been left alone with an infant boy; and at the recollection of his misery in those lonely days he wept. Later, when it was suggested that perhaps the sly Hawaiian woman had been responsible for his downfall, he recovered a portion of his dignity by avowing that he loved this gracious, tender girl