The Methodical Mr. Burr of Majuro

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