guffaw that could be heard in Sacramento. Even Captain Dowdy laughed a little. Sunshine sat as if turned to stone.
“They are not laughing at you, Sunshine,” Miss Tinkham said. “In our part of the world we do not have the institution of the taupó, a virgin-princess who has the purity of her village in her safekeeping. We are not that civilized. We have Beauty Queens.”
“Dear God, I’ve heard everything now,” Mrs. Feeley said piously.
Sunshine moved away from Miss Tinkham and put her suitcase on the couch to open it.
“Here are my fine-mats.” She spread out a folded mat of straw so fine that it resembled linen. The fringed edges were beautifully worked with colored grasses and down from the breasts of seabirds. It was folded to make a short skirt. There was a smaller piece that Sunshine held against her breast. “Faa Samoa… the old custom, the taupó did not wear this, only the skirt.” She showed them the shark’s-tooth necklace like rays of a giant daisy and the bracelets to match. “See the headdress.” She took out a long wig of human hair bleached bright red with lye. On top of the wig was fastened a towering diadem curiously ornamented with bits of mirror and rare shells.
“Sunshine is an aristocratic Samoan,” Miss Tinkham said.
“Ayah,” the captain said, “break out a good big fish an’ watch your aristocratic Sam-moan revert to type. They et my dog, they did!”
“I thought you loved Samoa?” Miss Tinkham said. “Not long ago you were telling us how fond they were of you and described their touching farewell.”
“Ayah.” He scowled. “I’ve took a skunner to ’em right at the moment. Sneakin’ up on a feller like that!”
“How about a beer?” Mrs. Feeley handed him a glass and he took a long pull at it. “Be kind to her, Tooner. She’s a long way from home.”
The captain shuffled his feet.
“You’d no call to chew her out like that,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “It ain’t like you. She’d be real nice, was she clean.”
“Have a beer, girl,” Mrs. Feeley thrust a glass at Sunshine. “Drink up, now. Then we’ll let you wash an’ see what you look like under them tearstains.”
“They’re used enough to it in the native beer joints up in the bush,” the captain said. “The sailors take their kingys up there an’ treat ’em to canned salmon an’ beer.”
“What’s kingys?” Mrs. Feeley said.
“It means girls, but the Navy uses it to mean girls the sailors is shacked up with.”
Sunshine seemed to turn several shades lighter as she rose.
“I have tasted beer only in my father’s house. Please, lau king-áh, my mother,” she turned to Miss Tinkham, “may I wash now?”
Miss Tinkham put her arm around Sunshine and led her to the unit where the shower bath and bedrooms were located.
“Do you know how to operate the shower?” Miss Tinkham said.
“I understand the significance of this, thank you,” Sunshine said.
Miss Tinkham smiled and went to get dry clothes for her. The white T-shirt that was just a shade too tight for Miss Tinkham would do nicely for the girl, and if the waistband of the gaudy, flowered circle-skirt was too large they could pin it in for tonight. When she heard the water in the shower stop, Miss Tinkham knocked at the door. Sunshine stepped out with a turkish towel wrapped around her like a sarong. Miss Tinkham stared at the girl’s shapely golden shoulders and breast.
“What a pity you ever wear anything but your native garb,” she said.
Sunshine smiled for the first time. Her teeth were very white and even, round on the edges like a child’s teeth.
“The missionaries don’t like it.”
“Shades of dear Mr. Maugham,” Miss Tinkham laughed. “You’ll be very pretty no matter what you put on, I am sure. Here is where you will sleep.” She pushed back the curtain that served as a door to the tiny cubbyhole bedroom next to her own. “You won’t mind the cot for a few days until we can dig you up a better
“They are not laughing at you, Sunshine,” Miss Tinkham said. “In our part of the world we do not have the institution of the taupó, a virgin-princess who has the purity of her village in her safekeeping. We are not that civilized. We have Beauty Queens.”
“Dear God, I’ve heard everything now,” Mrs. Feeley said piously.
Sunshine moved away from Miss Tinkham and put her suitcase on the couch to open it.
“Here are my fine-mats.” She spread out a folded mat of straw so fine that it resembled linen. The fringed edges were beautifully worked with colored grasses and down from the breasts of seabirds. It was folded to make a short skirt. There was a smaller piece that Sunshine held against her breast. “Faa Samoa… the old custom, the taupó did not wear this, only the skirt.” She showed them the shark’s-tooth necklace like rays of a giant daisy and the bracelets to match. “See the headdress.” She took out a long wig of human hair bleached bright red with lye. On top of the wig was fastened a towering diadem curiously ornamented with bits of mirror and rare shells.
“Sunshine is an aristocratic Samoan,” Miss Tinkham said.
“Ayah,” the captain said, “break out a good big fish an’ watch your aristocratic Sam-moan revert to type. They et my dog, they did!”
“I thought you loved Samoa?” Miss Tinkham said. “Not long ago you were telling us how fond they were of you and described their touching farewell.”
“Ayah.” He scowled. “I’ve took a skunner to ’em right at the moment. Sneakin’ up on a feller like that!”
“How about a beer?” Mrs. Feeley handed him a glass and he took a long pull at it. “Be kind to her, Tooner. She’s a long way from home.”
The captain shuffled his feet.
“You’d no call to chew her out like that,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “It ain’t like you. She’d be real nice, was she clean.”
“Have a beer, girl,” Mrs. Feeley thrust a glass at Sunshine. “Drink up, now. Then we’ll let you wash an’ see what you look like under them tearstains.”
“They’re used enough to it in the native beer joints up in the bush,” the captain said. “The sailors take their kingys up there an’ treat ’em to canned salmon an’ beer.”
“What’s kingys?” Mrs. Feeley said.
“It means girls, but the Navy uses it to mean girls the sailors is shacked up with.”
Sunshine seemed to turn several shades lighter as she rose.
“I have tasted beer only in my father’s house. Please, lau king-áh, my mother,” she turned to Miss Tinkham, “may I wash now?”
Miss Tinkham put her arm around Sunshine and led her to the unit where the shower bath and bedrooms were located.
“Do you know how to operate the shower?” Miss Tinkham said.
“I understand the significance of this, thank you,” Sunshine said.
Miss Tinkham smiled and went to get dry clothes for her. The white T-shirt that was just a shade too tight for Miss Tinkham would do nicely for the girl, and if the waistband of the gaudy, flowered circle-skirt was too large they could pin it in for tonight. When she heard the water in the shower stop, Miss Tinkham knocked at the door. Sunshine stepped out with a turkish towel wrapped around her like a sarong. Miss Tinkham stared at the girl’s shapely golden shoulders and breast.
“What a pity you ever wear anything but your native garb,” she said.
Sunshine smiled for the first time. Her teeth were very white and even, round on the edges like a child’s teeth.
“The missionaries don’t like it.”
“Shades of dear Mr. Maugham,” Miss Tinkham laughed. “You’ll be very pretty no matter what you put on, I am sure. Here is where you will sleep.” She pushed back the curtain that served as a door to the tiny cubbyhole bedroom next to her own. “You won’t mind the cot for a few days until we can dig you up a better
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