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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of White Shadows in the South Seas, by Frederick O'Brien</title>
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14384 ***</div>
+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, White Shadows in the South Seas, by Frederick
+O'Brien</h1>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full">
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr00"></a>
+<a href="images/img00.jpg"><img src="images/thumb00.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Village of Atuona, showing peak of Temetiu<br>
+The author's house is the small white speck in the center</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>WHITE SHADOWS IN THE SOUTH SEAS</h1>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>FREDERICK O'BRIEN</h2>
+<h3>WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS</h3>
+
+<h6>T. Werner Laurie, Ltd.</h6>
+<h3>1919</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>FOREWORD</h4>
+
+<p>There is in the nature of every man, I firmly believe, a longing to
+see and know the strange places of the world. Life imprisons us all
+in its coil of circumstance, and the dreams of romance that color
+boyhood are forgotten, but they do not die. They stir at the sight
+of a white-sailed ship beating out to the wide sea; the smell of
+tarred rope on a blackened wharf, or the touch of the cool little
+breeze that rises when the stars come out will waken them again.
+Somewhere over the rim of the world lies romance, and every heart
+yearns to go and find it.</p>
+
+<p>It is not given to every man to start on the quest of the rainbow's
+end. Such fantastic pursuit is not for him who is bound by ties of
+home and duty and fortune-to-make. He has other adventure at his own
+door, sterner fights to wage, and, perhaps, higher rewards to gain.
+Still, the ledgers close sometimes on a sigh, and by the cosiest
+fireside one will see in the coals pictures that have nothing to do
+with wedding rings or balances at the bank.</p>
+
+<p>It is for those who stay at home yet dream of foreign places that I
+have written this book, a record of one happy year spent among the
+simple, friendly cannibals of Atuona valley, on the island of
+Hiva-oa in the Marquesas. In its pages there is little of profound
+research, nothing, I fear, to startle the anthropologist or to
+revise encyclopedias; such expectation was far from my thoughts when
+I sailed from Papeite on the <i>Morning Star</i>. I went to see what I
+should see, and to learn whatever should be taught me by the days as
+they came. What I saw and what I learned the reader will see and
+learn, and no more.</p>
+
+<p>Days, like people, give more when they are approached in not too
+stern a spirit. So I traveled lightly, without the heavy baggage of
+the ponderous-minded scholar, and the reader who embarks with me on
+the &ldquo;long cruise&rdquo; need bring with him only an open mind and a love
+for the strange and picturesque. He will come back, I hope, as I did,
+with some glimpses into the primitive customs of the long-forgotten
+ancestors of the white race, a deeper wonder at the mysteries of the
+world, and a memory of sun-steeped days on white beaches, of palms
+and orchids and the childlike savage peoples who live in the
+bread-fruit groves of &ldquo;Bloody Hiva-oa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The author desires to express here his thanks to Rose Wilder Lane,
+to whose editorial assistance the publication of this book is very
+largely due.</p>
+
+
+
+<h4>CONTENTS</h4>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Farewell to Papeite beach; at sea in the <i>Morning Star</i>; Darwin's
+theory of the continent that sank beneath the waters of the South
+Seas</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The trade-room of the <i>Morning Star</i>; Lying Bill Pincher;
+M. L'Hermier des Plantes, future governor of the Marquesas;
+story of McHenry and the little native boy, His Dog</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Thirty-seven days at sea; life of the sea-birds; strange
+phosphorescence; first sight of Fatu-hiva; history of the islands;
+chant of the Raiateans</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Anchorage of Taha-Uka; Exploding Eggs, and his engagement as valet;
+inauguration of the new governor; dance on the palace lawn</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">First night in Atuona valley; sensational arrival of the Golden Bed;
+Titihuti's tattooed legs</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Visit of Chief Seventh Man Who is So Angry He Wallows in the Mire;
+journey to Vait-hua on Tahuata island; fight with the devil-fish;
+story of a cannibal feast and the two who escaped</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Idyllic valley of Vait-hua; the beauty of Vanquished Often; bathing
+on the beach; an unexpected proposal of marriage</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Communal life; sport in the waves; fight of the sharks and the
+mother whale; a day in the mountains; death of Le Capitaine Halley;
+return to Atuona</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The Marquesans at ten o'clock mass; a remarkable conversation about
+religions and Joan of Arc in which Great Fern gives his idea of the
+devil</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The marriage of Malicious Gossip; matrimonial customs of the simple
+natives; the domestic difficulties of Haabuani</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Filling the <i>popoi</i> pits in the season of the breadfruit; legend of
+the <i>mei</i>; the secret festival in a hidden valley</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A walk in the jungle; the old woman in the breadfruit tree; a night
+in a native hut on the mountain</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The household of Lam Kai Oo; copra making; marvels of the
+cocoanut-groves; the sagacity of pigs; and a crab that knows the
+laws of gravitation</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Visit of Le Moine; the story of Paul Gauguin; his house, and a
+search for his grave beneath the white cross of Calvary</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Death of Aumia; funeral chant and burial customs; causes for the
+death of a race</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A savage dance, a drama of the sea, of danger and feasting; the rape
+of the lettuce</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A walk to the Forbidden Place; Hot Tears, the hunchback; the story
+of Behold the Servant of the Priest, told by Malicious Gossip in the
+cave of Enamoa</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A search for rubber-trees on the plateau of Ahoa; a fight with the
+wild white dogs; story of an ancient migration, told by the wild
+cattle hunters in the Cave of the Spine of the Chinaman</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A feast to the men of Motopu; the making of <i>kava</i>, and its drinking;
+the story of the Girl Who Lost Her Strength</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A journey to Taaoa; Kahuiti, the cannibal chief, and his story of an
+old war caused by an unfaithful woman</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The crime of Huahine for love of Weaver of Mats; story of Tahia's
+white man who was eaten; the disaster that befell Honi, the white
+man who used his harpoon against his friends</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The memorable game for the matches in the cocoanut-grove of Lam Kai
+Oo</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A journey to Nuka-hiva; story of the celebration of the fête of Joan
+of Arc, and the miracles of the white horse and the girl</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">America's claim to the Marquesas; adventures of Captain Porter in
+1812; war between Haapa and Tai-o-hae, and the conquest of Typee
+valley</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A visit to Typee; story of the old man who returned too late</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Journey on the <i>Roberta</i>; the winged cockroaches; arrival at a Swiss
+paradise in the valley of Oomoa</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Labor in the South Seas; some random thoughts on the &ldquo;survival of
+the fittest&rdquo;</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The white man who danced in Oomoa valley; a wild-boar hunt in the
+hills; the feast of the triumphant hunters and a dance in honor of
+Grelet</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A visit to Hanavave; Père Olivier at home; the story of the last
+battle between Hanahouua and Oi, told by the sole survivor; the
+making of <i>tapa</i> cloth, and the ancient garments of the Marquesans</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XXXI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Fishing in Hanavave; a deep-sea battle with a shark; Red Chicken
+shows how to tie ropes to sharks' tails; night-fishing for dolphins,
+and the monster sword-fish that overturned the canoe; the native
+doctor dresses Red Chicken's wounds and discourses on medicine</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XXXII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A journey over the roof of the world to Oomoa; an encounter with a
+wild woman of the hills</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap33">CHAPTER XXXIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Return in a canoe to Atuona; Tetuahunahuna relates the story of the
+girl who rode the white horse in the celebration of the fête of Joan
+of Arc in Tai-o-hae; Proof that sharks hate women; steering by the
+stars to Atuona beach</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap34">CHAPTER XXXIV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Sea sports; curious sea-foods found at low tide; the peculiarities
+of sea-centipedes and how to cook and eat them</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap35">CHAPTER XXXV</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Court day in Atuona; the case of Daughter of the Pigeon and the
+sewing-machine; the story of the perfidy of Drink of Beer and the
+death of Earth Worm who tried to kill the governor</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap36">CHAPTER XXXVI</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The madman Great Moth of the Night; story of the famine and the one
+family that ate pig</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap37">CHAPTER XXXVII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">A visit to the hermit of Taha-Uka valley; the vengeance that made
+the Scallamera lepers; and the hatred of Mohuto</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap38">CHAPTER XXXVIII</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">Last days in Atuona; My Darling Hope's letter from her son</p>
+
+<h5><a href="#chap39">CHAPTER XXXIX</a></h5>
+
+<p class="invent">The chants of departure; night falls on the Land of the War Fleet</p>
+
+
+
+<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h4>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr00">Village of Atuona, showing peak of Temetiu</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr01">Beach at Viataphiha-Tahiti</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr02">Where the belles of Tahiti lived in the shade to whiten their
+complexions</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr03">Lieutenant L'Hermier des Plantes, Governor of the Marquesas Islands</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr04">Entrance to a Marquesan Bay</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr05">The ironbound coast of the Marquesas</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr06">A road in Nuka-Hiva</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr07">Harbor of Tai-o-hae</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr08">Schooner <i>Fetia Taiao</i> in the Bay of Traitors</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr09">André Bauda, Commissaire</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr10">The public dance in the garden</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr11">Antoinette, a Marquesan dancing girl</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr12">Marquesans in Sunday clothes</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr13">Vai Etienne</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr14">The pool by the Queen's house</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr15">Idling away the sunny hours</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr16">Nothing to do but rest all day</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr17">Catholic Church at Atuona</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr18">A native spearing fish from a rock</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr19">A volunteer cocoanut grove, with trees of all ages</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr20">Climbing for cocoanuts</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr21">Splitting cocoanut husks in copra making process</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr22">Cutting the meat from cocoanuts to make copra</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr23">A Marquesan home on a <i>paepae</i></a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr24">Isle of Barking Dogs</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr25">The <i>haka</i>, the Marquesan national dance</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr26">Hot Tears with Vai Etienne</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr27">The old cannibal of Taipi Valley</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr28">Enacting a human sacrifice of the Marquesans</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr29">Interior of Island of Fatu-hiva, where the author walked over the
+mountains</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr30">The plateau of Ahoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr31">Kivi, the <i>kava</i> drinker with the <i>hetairae</i> of the valley</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr32">A pool in the jungle</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr33">The Pekia, or Place of Sacrifice, at Atuona</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr34">Marquesan cannibals, wearing dress of human hair</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr35">Tepu, a Marquesan girl of the hills, and her sister</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr36">A tattooed Marquesan with carved canoe paddle</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr37">A chieftess in <i>tapa</i> garments with <i>tapa</i> parasol</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr38">Launching the whale-boat</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr39">Père Simeon Delmas' church at Tai-o-hae</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr40">Gathering the <i>feis</i> in the mountains</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr41">Near the Mission at Hanavave</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr42">Starting from Hanavave for Oomoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr43">Feis, or mountain bananas</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr44">Where river and bay meet at Oomoa, Island of Fatu-hiva</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr45">Sacred banyan tree at Oomoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr46">Elephantiasis of the legs</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr47">Removing the pig cooked in the <i>umu</i>, or native oven</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr48">The <i>Koina Kai</i>, or feast in Oomoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr49">Beach at Oomoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr50">Putting the canoe in the water</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr51">Pascual, the giant Paumotan pilot and his friends</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr52">A pearl diver's sweetheart</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr53">Spearing fish in Marquesas Islands</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr54">Pearl shell divers at work</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr55">Catholic Church at Hanavave</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr56">A canoe in the surf at Oomoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr57">The gates of the Valley of Hanavave</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr58">A fisherman's house of bamboo and cocoanut leaves</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr59">Double canoes</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr60">Harbor sports</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr61">Tahaiupehe, Daughter of the Pigeon, of Taaoa</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illustr62">Nataro Puelleray and wife</a></p>
+
+
+
+<p><b>Author's Note.</b> Foreign words in a book are like rocks in a path. There
+are two ways of meeting the difficulty; the reader may leap over them,
+or use them as stepping stones. I have written this book so that they
+may easily be leaped over by the hasty, but he will lose much enjoyment
+by doing so; I would urge him to pronounce them as he goes. Marquesan
+words have a flavor all their own; much of the simple poetry of the
+islands is in them. The rules for pronouncing them are simple;
+consonants have the sounds usual in English, vowels have the Latin
+value, that is, a is ah, e is ay, i is ee, o is oh, and u is oo.
+Every letter is pronounced, and there are no accents. The Marquesans
+had no written language, and their spoken tongue was reproduced as
+simply as possible by the missionaries.</p>
+
+
+
+<h1>WHITE SHADOWS IN THE SOUTH SEAS</h1>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Farewell to Papeite beach; at sea in the <i>Morning Star</i>; Darwin's
+theory of the continent that sank beneath the waters of the South
+Seas.</i></p>
+
+<p>By the white coral wall of Papeite beach the schooner <i>Fetia
+Taiao</i> (<i>Morning Star</i>) lay ready to put to sea. Beneath the
+skyward-sweeping green heights of Tahiti the narrow shore was a mass
+of colored gowns, dark faces, slender waving arms. All Papeite,
+flower-crowned and weeping, was gathered beside the blue lagoon.</p>
+
+<p>Lamentation and wailing followed the brown sailors as they came over
+the side and slowly began to cast the moorings that held the <i>Morning
+Star</i>. Few are the ships that sail many seasons among the Dangerous
+Islands. They lay their bones on rock or reef or sink in the deep,
+and the lovers, sons and husbands of the women who weep on the beach
+return no more to the huts in the cocoanut groves. So, at each sailing
+on the &ldquo;long course&rdquo; the anguish is keen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ia ora na i te Atua!</i> Farewell and God keep you!&rdquo; the women cried
+as they stood beside the half-buried cannon that serve to make fast
+the ships by the coral bank. From the deck of the nearby <i>Hinano</i>
+came the music of an accordeon and a chorus of familiar words:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;<i>I teie nie mahana</i></span>
+<span><i>Ne tere no oe e Hati</i></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Na te Moana!</i>&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+<p></p>
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;Let us sing and make merry,</span>
+<span>For we journey over the sea!&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was the <i>Himene Tatou Arearea</i>. Kelly, the wandering I.W.W.,
+self-acclaimed delegate of the mythical Union of Beach-combers and
+Stowaways, was at the valves of the accordeon, and about him
+squatted a ring of joyous natives. &ldquo;<i>Wela ka hao!</i> Hot stuff!&rdquo; they
+shouted.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Caroline of the Marquesas and Mamoe of Moorea, most
+beautiful dancers of the quays, flung themselves into the <i>upaupahura</i>,
+the singing dance of love. Kelly began &ldquo;Tome! Tome!&rdquo; a Hawaiian hula.
+Men unloading cargo on the many schooners dropped their burdens and
+began to dance. Rude squareheads of the fo'c'sles beat time with
+pannikins. Clerks in the traders' stores and even Marechel, the
+barber, were swept from counters and chairs by the sensuous melody,
+and bareheaded in the white sun they danced beneath the crowded
+balconies of the Cercle Bougainville, the club by the lagoon. The
+harbor of Papeite knew ten minutes of unrestrained merriment, tears
+forgotten, while from the warehouse of the navy to the Poodle Stew
+café the hula reigned.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr01"></a>
+<a href="images/img01.jpg"><img src="images/thumb01.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Beach at Viataphiha-Tahiti</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr02"></a>
+<a href="images/img02.jpg"><img src="images/thumb02.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Where the belles of Tahiti lived in the shade to
+whiten their complexions.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Under the gorgeous flamboyant trees that paved their shade with
+red-gold blossoms a group of white men sang:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;Well, ah fare you well, we can stay no more with you, my love,</span>
+<span>Down, set down your liquor and the girl from off your knee,</span>
+<span class="i2">For the wind has come to say</span>
+<span class="i2">&lsquo;You must take me while you may,</span>
+<span class="i2">If you'd go to Mother Carey!&rsquo;</span>
+<span class="i2">(Walk her down to Mother Carey!)</span>
+<span>Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The anchor was up, the lines let go, and suddenly from the sea came
+a wind with rain.</p>
+
+<p>The girls from the Cocoanut House, a flutter of brilliant scarlet
+and pink gowns, fled for shelter, tossing blossoms of the sweet
+tiati Tahiti toward their sailor lovers as they ran. Marao, the
+haughty queen, drove rapidly away in her old chaise, the Princess
+Boots leaning out to wave a slender hand. Prince Hinoi, the fat
+spendthrift who might have been a king, leaned from the balcony of
+the club, glass in hand, and shouted, &ldquo;<i>Aroha i te revaraa!</i>&rdquo; across
+the deserted beach.</p>
+
+<p>So we left Papeite, the gay Tahitian capital, while a slashing
+downpour drowned the gay flamboyant blossoms, our masts and rigging
+creaking in the gale, and sea breaking white on the coral reef.</p>
+
+<p>Like the weeping women, who doubtless had already dried their tears,
+the sky began to smile before we reached the treacherous pass in the
+outer reef. Beyond Moto Utu, the tiny islet in the harbor that had
+been harem and fort in kingly days, we saw the surf foaming on the
+coral, and soon were through the narrow channel.</p>
+
+<p>We had lifted no canvas in the lagoon, using only our engine to
+escape the coral traps. Past the ever-present danger, with the wind
+now half a gale and the rain falling again in sheets&mdash;the
+intermittent deluge of the season&mdash;the <i>Morning Star</i>, under reefed
+foresail, mainsail and staysail, pointed her delicate nose toward the
+Dangerous Islands and hit hard the open sea.</p>
+
+<p>She rode the endlessly-tossing waves like a sea-gull, carrying her
+head with a care-free air and dipping to the waves in jaunty fashion.
+Her lines were very fine, tapering and beautiful, even to the eye of
+a land-lubber.</p>
+
+<p>A hundred and six feet from stem to stern, twenty-three feet of beam
+and ten feet of depth, she was loaded to water's edge with cargo for
+the islands to which we were bound. Lumber lay in the narrow lanes
+between cabin-house and rails; even the lifeboats were piled with
+cargo. Those who reckon dangers do not laugh much in these seas.
+There was barely room to move about on the deck of the <i>Morning Star</i>;
+merely a few steps were possible abaft the wheel amid the play of
+main-sheet boom and traveler. Here, while my three fellow-passengers
+went below, I stood gazing at the rain-whipped illimitable waters
+ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Where is the boy who has not dreamed of the cannibal isles, those
+strange, fantastic places over the rim of the world, where naked
+brown men move like shadows through unimagined jungles, and horrid
+feasts are celebrated to the &ldquo;boom, boom, boom!&rdquo; of the twelve-foot
+drums?</p>
+
+<p>Years bring knowledge, paid for with the dreams of youth. The wide,
+vague world becomes familiar, becomes even common-place. London,
+Paris, Venice, many-colored Cairo, the desecrated crypts of the
+pyramids, the crumbling villages of Palestine, no longer glimmer
+before me in the iridescent glamor of fancy, for I have seen them.
+But something of the boyish thrill that filled me when I pored over
+the pages of Melville long ago returned while I stood on the deck of
+the <i>Morning Star</i>, plunging through the surging Pacific in the
+driving tropic rain.</p>
+
+<p>Many leagues before us lay Les Isles Dangereux, the Low Archipelago,
+first stopping-point on our journey to the far cannibal islands yet
+another thousand miles away across the empty seas. Before we saw the
+green banners of Tahiti's cocoanut palms again we would travel not
+only forward over leagues of tossing water but backward across
+centuries of time. For in those islands isolated from the world for
+eons there remains a living fragment of the childhood of our
+Caucasian race.</p>
+
+<p>Darwin's theory is that these islands are the tops of a submerged
+continent, or land bridge, which stretches its crippled body along
+the floor of the Pacific for thousands of leagues. A lost land,
+whose epic awaits the singer; a mystery perhaps forever to be
+unsolved. There are great monuments, graven objects, hieroglyphics,
+customs and languages, island peoples with suggestive legends&mdash;all,
+perhaps, remnants of a migration from Asia or Africa a hundred
+thousand years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Over this land bridge, mayhap, ventured the Caucasian people, the
+dominant blood in Polynesia to-day, and when the continent fell from
+the sight of sun and stars save in those spots now the mountainous
+islands like Tahiti and the Marquesas, the survivors were isolated
+for untold centuries.</p>
+
+<p>Here in these islands the brothers of our long-forgotten ancestors
+have lived and bred since the Stone Age, cut off from the main
+stream of mankind's development. Here they have kept the childhood
+customs of our white race, savage and wild, amid their primitive and
+savage life. Here, three centuries ago, they were discovered by the
+peoples of the great world, and, rudely encountering a civilization
+they did not build, they are dying here. With their passing vanishes
+the last living link with our own pre-historic past. And I was to see
+it, before it disappears forever.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The trade-room of the <i>Morning Star</i>; Lying Bill Pincher;
+M. L'Hermier des Plantes, future governor of the Marquesas;
+story of McHenry and the little native boy, His Dog.</i></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come 'ave a drink!&rdquo; Captain Pincher called from the cabin, and
+leaving the spray-swept deck where the rain drummed on the canvas
+awning I went down the four steps into the narrow cabin-house.</p>
+
+<p>The cabin, about twenty feet long, had a tiny semi-private room for
+Captain Pincher, and four berths ranged about a table. Here, grouped
+around a demijohn of rum, I found Captain Pincher with my three
+fellow-passengers; McHenry and Gedge, the traders, and M. L'Hermier
+des Plantes, a young officer of the French colonial army, bound to
+the Marquesas to be their governor.</p>
+
+<p>The captain was telling the story of the wreck in which he had lost
+his former ship. He had tied up to a reef for a game of cards with a
+like-minded skipper, who berthed beside him. The wind changed while
+they slept. Captain Pincher awoke to find his schooner breaking her
+backs on the coral rocks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oo can say wot the blooming wind will do?&rdquo; he said, thumping the
+table with his glass. &ldquo;There was Willy's schooner tied up next to me,
+and 'e got a slant and slid away, while my boat busts 'er sides open
+on the reef, The 'ole blooming atoll was 'eaped with the blooming
+cargo. Willy 'ad luck; I 'ad 'ell. It's all an 'azard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had not found his aitches since he left Liverpool, thirty years
+earlier, nor dropped his silly expletives. A gray-haired, red-faced,
+laughing man, stockily built, mild mannered, he proved, as the
+afternoon wore on, to be a man from whom Münchausen might have
+gained a story or two.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They call me Lying Bill,&rdquo; he said to me. &ldquo;You can't believe wot I
+say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's straight as a mango tree, Bill Pincher is,&rdquo; McHenry asserted
+loudly. &ldquo;He's a terrible liar about stories, but he's the best
+seaman that comes to T'yti, and square as a biscuit tin. You know how,
+when that schooner was stole that he was mate on, and the rotten
+thief run away with her and a woman, Bill he went after 'em, and
+brought the schooner back from Chile. Bill, he's whatever he says he
+is, all right&mdash;but he can sail a schooner, buy copra and shell cheap,
+sell goods to the bloody natives, and bring back the money to the
+owners. That's what I call an honest man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lying Bill received these hearty words with something less than his
+usual good-humor. There was no friendliness in his eye as he looked
+at McHenry, whose empty glass remained empty until he himself
+refilled it. Bullet-headed, beady-eyed, a chunk of rank flesh shaped
+by a hundred sordid adventures, McHenry clutched at equality with
+these men, and it eluded him. Lying Bill, making no reply to his
+enthusiastic commendation, retired to his bunk with a paper-covered
+novel, and to cover the rebuff McHenry turned to talk of trade with
+Gedge, who spoke little.</p>
+
+<p>The traderoom of the <i>Morning Star</i>, opening from the cabin, was to
+me the door to romance. When I was a boy there was more flavor in
+traderooms than in war. To have seen one would have been as a
+glimpse of the Holy Grail to a sworn knight. Those traderooms of my
+youthful imagination smelt of rum and gun-powder, and beside them
+were racks of rifles to repel the dusky figures coming over the
+bulwarks.</p>
+
+<p>The traderoom of the <i>Morning Star</i> was odorous, too. It had no
+window, and when one opened the door all was obscure at first, while
+smells of rank Tahiti tobacco, cheap cotton prints, a broken bottle
+of perfume and scented soaps struggled for supremacy. Gradually the
+eye discovered shelves and bins and goods heaped from floor to
+ceiling; pins and anchors, harpoons and pens, crackers and jewelry,
+cloth, shoes, medicine and tomahawks, socks and writing paper.</p>
+
+<p>Trade business, McHenry's monologue explained, is not what it was.
+When these petty merchants dared not trust themselves ashore their
+guns guarded against too eager customers. But now almost every
+inhabited island has its little store, and the trader has to pursue
+his buyers, who die so fast that he must move from island to island
+in search of population.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Booze is boss,&rdquo; said McHenry. &ldquo;I have two thousand pounds in bank
+in Australia, all made by selling liquor to the natives. It's
+against French law to sell or trade or give 'em a drop, but we all
+do it. If you don't have it, you can't get cargo. In the diving
+season it's the only damn thing that'll pass. The divers'll dig up
+from five to fifteen dollars a bottle for it, depending on the
+French being on the job or not. Ain't that so, Gedge?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>C'est vrai</i>,&rdquo; Gedge assented. He spoke in French, ostensibly for
+the benefit of M. L'Hermier des Plantes. That young governor of the
+Marquesas was not given to saying much, his chief interest in life
+appearing to be an ample black whisker, to which he devoted incessant
+tender care. After a few words of broken English he had turned a
+negligent attention to the pages of a Marquesan dictionary, in
+preparation for his future labors among the natives. Gedge, however,
+continued to talk in the language of courts.</p>
+
+<p>It was obvious that McHenry's twenty-five years in French
+possessions had not taught him the white man's language. He demanded
+brusquely, &ldquo;What are you <i>oui-oui</i>-ing for?&rdquo; and occasionally
+interjected a few words of bastard French in an attempt to be jovial.
+To this Gedge paid little attention.</p>
+
+<p>Gedge was chief of the commercial part of the expedition, and his
+manner proclaimed it. Thin-lipped, cunning-eyed, but strong and
+self-reliant, he was absorbed in the chances of trade. He had been
+twenty years in the Marquesas islands. A shrewd man among kanakas,
+unscrupulous by his own account, he had prospered. Now, after
+selling his business, he was paying a last visit to his long-time
+home to settle accounts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'Is old woman is a barefoot girl among the cannibals,&rdquo; Lying Bill
+said to me later. &ldquo;'E 'as given a 'ole army of ostriches to fortune,
+'e 'as.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One of Captain Pincher's own sons was assistant to the engineer,
+Ducat, and helped in the cargo work. The lad lived forward with the
+crew, so that we saw nothing of him socially, and his father never
+spoke to him save to give an order or a reprimand. Native mothers
+mourn often the lack of fatherly affection in their white mates.
+Illegitimate children are held cheap by the whites.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr03"></a>
+<a href="images/img03.jpg"><img src="images/thumb03.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Lieutenant L'Hermier des Plantes, Governor of the
+Marquesas Islands</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr04"></a>
+<a href="images/img04.jpg"><img src="images/thumb04.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Entrance to a Marquesan bay</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>For two days at sea after leaving Papeite we did not see the sun.
+This was the rainy and hot season, a time of calms and hurricanes,
+of sudden squalls and maddening quietudes, when all signs fail and
+the sailor must stand by for the whims of the wind if he would save
+himself and his ship. For hours we raced along at seven or eight
+knots, with a strong breeze on the quarter and the seas ruffling
+about our prow. For still longer hours we pushed through a windless
+calm by motor power. Showers fell incessantly.</p>
+
+<p>We lived in pajamas, barefooted, unshaven and unwashed. Fresh water
+was limited, as it would be impossible to replenish our casks for
+many weeks. McHenry said it was not difficult to accustom one's self
+to lack of water, both externally and internally.</p>
+
+<p>There was a demijohn of strong Tahitian rum always on tap in the
+cabin. Here we sat to eat and remained to drink and read and smoke.
+There was Bordeaux wine at luncheon and dinner, Martinique and
+Tahitian rum and absinthe between meals. The ship's bell was struck
+by the steersman every half hour, and McHenry made it the knell of
+an ounce.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Pincher took a jorum every hour or two and retired to his
+berth and novels, leaving the navigation of the <i>Morning Star</i> to
+the under-officers. Ducat, the third officer, a Breton, joined us at
+meals. He was a decent, clever fellow in his late twenties,
+ambitious and clear-headed, but youthfully impressed by McHenry's
+self-proclaimed wickedness.</p>
+
+<p>One night after dinner he and McHenry were bantering each other
+after a few drinks of rum. McHenry said, &ldquo;Say, how's your kanaka
+woman?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ducat's fingers tightened on his glass. Then, speaking English and
+very precisely, he asked, &ldquo;Do you mean my wife?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean your old woman. What's this wife business?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is my wife, and we have two children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>McHenry grinned. &ldquo;I know all that. Didn't I know her before you? She
+was mine first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ducat got up. We all got up. The air became tense, and in the
+silence there seemed no motion of ship or wave. I said to myself,
+&ldquo;This is murder.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ducat, very pale, an inscrutable look on his face, his black eyes
+narrowed, said quietly, &ldquo;Monsieur, do you mean that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, sure I do? Why shouldn't I mean it? It's true.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>None of us moved, but it was as if each of us stepped back, leaving
+the two men facing each other. In this circle no one would interfere.
+It was not our affair. Our detachment isolated the two&mdash;McHenry quite
+drunk, in full command of his senses but with no controlling
+intelligence; Ducat not at all drunk, studying the situation,
+considering in his rage and humiliation what would best revenge him
+on this man.</p>
+
+<p>Ducat spoke, &ldquo;McHenry, come out of this cabin with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, all right, all right,&rdquo; McHenry said.</p>
+
+<p>We stepped back as they passed us. They went up the steps to the deck.
+Ducat paused at the break of the poop and stood there, speaking to
+McHenry. We could not hear his words. The schooner tossed idly, a
+faint creaking of the rigging came down to us in the cabin. The same
+question was in every eye. Then Ducat turned on his heel, and
+McHenry was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>Our question was destined to remain unanswered. Whatever Ducat had
+said, it was something that hushed McHenry forever. He never
+mentioned the subject again, nor did any of us. But McHenry's
+attitude had subtly changed. Ducat's words had destroyed that last
+secret refuge of the soul in which every man keeps the vestiges of
+self-justification and self-respect.</p>
+
+<p>McHenry sought me out that night while I sat on the cabin-house
+gazing at the great stars of the Southern Cross, and began to talk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now take me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I'm not so bad. I'm as good as most people.
+As a matter of fact, I ain't done anything more in my life than
+anybody'd've done, if they had the chance. Look at me&mdash;I had a
+singlet an' a pair of dungarees when I landed on the beach in T'yti,
+an' look at me now! I ain't done so bad!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He must have felt the unconvincing ring of his tone, lacking the
+full and complacent self-assurance usual to it, for as if groping
+for something to make good the lack he sought backward through his
+memories and unfolded bit by bit the tale of his experiences. Scotch
+born of drunken parents, he had been reared in the slums of American
+cities and the forecastles of American ships. A waif, newsboy, loafer,
+gang-fighter and water-front pirate, he had come into the South Seas
+twenty-five years earlier, shanghaied when drunk in San Francisco.
+He looked back proudly on a quarter of a century of trading, thieving,
+selling contraband rum and opium, pearl-buying and gambling.</p>
+
+<p>But this pride on which he had so long depended failed him now.
+Successful fights that he had waged, profitable crimes committed,
+grew pale upon his tongue. Listening in the darkness while the
+engine drove us through a black sea and the canvas awning flapped
+overhead, I felt the baffled groping behind his words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I don't take nothing from no man!&rdquo; he boasted, and fell into
+uneasy silence. &ldquo;The folks in these islands know me, all right!&rdquo; he
+asserted, and again was dumb.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now there was a kid, a little Penryn boy,&rdquo; he said suddenly.
+&ldquo;When I was a trader on Penryn he was there, and he used to come
+around my store. That kid liked me. Why, that kid, he was crazy
+about me! It's a fact, he was crazy about me, that kid was.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His voice was fumbling back toward its old assurance, but there was
+wonder in it, as though he was incredulous of this foothold he had
+stumbled upon. He repeated, &ldquo;That kid was crazy about me!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He used to hang around, and help me with the canned goods, and he'd
+go fishing with me, and shooting. He was a regular&mdash;what do you call
+'em? These dogs that go after things for you? He'd go under the
+water and bring in the big fish for me. And he liked to do it. You
+never saw anything like the way that kid was.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I used to let him come into the store and hang around, you know.
+Not that I cared anything for the kid myself; I ain't that kind. But
+I'd just give him some tinned biscuits now and then, the way you'd do.
+He didn't have no father or mother. His father had been eaten by a
+shark, and his mother was dead. The kid didn't have any name because
+his mother had died so young he hadn't got any name, and his father
+hadn't called him anything but boy. He give himself a name to me,
+and that was &lsquo;Your Dog.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He called himself my dog, you see. But his name for it was Your Dog,
+and that was because he fetched and carried for me, like as if he
+was one. He was that kind of kid. Not that I paid much attention to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know there's a leper settlement on Penryn, off across the lagoon.
+I ain't afraid of leprosy y'understand, because I've dealt with 'em
+for years, ate with 'em an' slept with 'em, an' all that, like
+everybody down here. But all the same I don't want to have 'em right
+around me all the time. So one day the doctor come to look over the
+natives, and he come an' told me the little kid, My Dog, was a leper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I wasn't attached to the kid. I ain't attached to nobody. I
+ain't that kind of a man. But the kid was sort of used to me, and I
+was used to havin' him around. He used to come in through the window.
+He'd just come in, nights, and sit there an' never say a word. When
+I was goin' to bed he'd say, &lsquo;McHenry, Your Dog is goin' now, but
+can't Your Dog sleep here?&rsquo; Well, I used to let him sleep on the
+floor, no harm in that. But if he was a leper he'd got to go to the
+settlement, so I told him so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He made such a fuss, cryin' around&mdash;By God, I had to boot him out
+of the place. I said: &lsquo;Get out. I don't want you snivelin' around me.&rsquo;
+So he went.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's a rotten, God-forsaken place, I guess. I don't know. The
+government takes care of 'em. It ain't my affair. I guess for a
+leper colony it ain't so bad.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anyway, I was goin' to sell out an' leave Penryn. The diving season
+was over. One night I had the door locked an' was goin' over my
+accounts to see if I couldn't collect some more dough from the
+natives. I heard a noise, and By God! there comin' through the
+window was My Dog. He come up to me, and I said: &lsquo;Stand away, there!&rsquo;
+I ain't afraid of leprosy, but there's no use takin' chances. You
+never know.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well sir, that kid threw himself down on the floor, and he said,
+&lsquo;McHenry, I knowed you was goin' away and I had to come to see you.&rsquo;
+That's what he said in his Kanaka lingo.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was cryin', and he looked pretty bad. He said he couldn't stand
+the settlement. He said, &lsquo;I don't never see you there. Can't I live
+here an' be Your Dog again?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I said, &lsquo;You got to go to the settlement.&rsquo; I wasn't goin' to get
+into trouble on account of no Kanaka kid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, that kid had swum about five miles in the night, with sharks
+all around him&mdash;the very place where his father had gone into a shark.
+That kid thought a lot of me. Well, I made him go back. &lsquo;If you don't
+go, the doctor will come, an' then you got to go,&rsquo; I said. &lsquo;You
+better get out. I'm goin' away, anyhow,&rsquo; I said. I was figuring on
+my accounts, an' I didn't want to be bothered with no fool kid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he hung around awhile, makin' a fuss, till I opened the door
+an' told him to git. Then he went quiet enough. He went right down
+the beach into the water an' swum away, back to the settlement. Now
+look here, that kid liked me. He knowed me well, too&mdash;he was around
+my store pretty near all the time I was in Penryn. He was a fool kid.
+My Dog, that was the name he give himself. An' while I was in T'yti,
+here, I get a letter from the trader that took over my store, and he
+sent me a letter from that kid. It was wrote in Kanaka. He couldn't
+write much, but a little. Here, I'll show you the letter. You'll see
+what that kid thought of me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the light from the open cabin window I read the letter, painfully
+written on cheap, blue-lined paper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Greetings to you, McHenry, in Tahiti, from Your Dog. It is hard to
+live without you. It is long since I have seen you. It is hard. I go
+to join my father. I give myself to the <i>mako</i>. To you, McHenry, from
+Your Dog, greetings and farewell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Across the bottom of the letter was written in English: &ldquo;The kid
+disappeared from the leper settlement. They think he drowned himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Thirty-seven days at sea; life of the sea-birds; strange
+phosphorescence; first sight of Fatu-hiva; history of the islands;
+chant of the Raiateans.</i></p>
+
+<p>Thirty-seven days at sea brought us to the eve of our landing in
+Hiva-oa in the Marquesas. Thirty-seven monotonous days, varied only
+by rain-squalls and sun, by calm or threatening seas, by the
+changing sky. Rarely a passing schooner lifted its sail above the
+far circle of the horizon. It was as though we journeyed through
+space to another world.</p>
+
+<p>Yet all around us there was life&mdash;life in a thousand varying forms,
+filling the sea and the air. On calm mornings the swelling waves
+were splashed by myriads of leaping fish, the sky was the playground
+of innumerable birds, soaring, diving, following their accustomed
+ways through their own strange world oblivious of the human
+creatures imprisoned on a bit of wood below them. Surrounded by a
+universe filled with pulsing, sentient life clothed in such
+multitudinous forms, man learns humility. He shrinks to a speck on
+an illimitable ocean.</p>
+
+<p>I spent long afternoons lying on the cabin-house, watching the
+frigates, the tropics, gulls, boobys, and other sea-birds that
+sported through the sky in great numbers. The frigate-birds were
+called by the sailors the man-of-war bird, and also the sea-hawk.
+They are marvelous flyers, owing to the size of the pectoral muscles,
+which compared with those of other birds are extraordinarily large.
+They cannot rest on the water, but must sustain their flights from
+land to land, yet here they were in mid-ocean.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr05"></a>
+<a href="images/img05.jpg"><img src="images/thumb05.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The ironbound coast of the Marquesas</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr06"></a>
+<a href="images/img06.jpg"><img src="images/thumb06.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A road in Nuka-Hiva</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>My eyes would follow one higher and higher till he became a mere dot
+in the blue, though but a few minutes earlier he had risen from his
+pursuit of fish in the water. He spread his wings fully and did not
+move them as he climbed from air-level to air-level, but his long
+forked tail expanded and closed continuously.</p>
+
+<p>Sighting a school of flying-fish, which had been driven to frantic
+leaps from the sea by pursuing bonito, he begins to descend. First
+his coming down is like that of an aeroplane, in spirals, but a
+thousand feet from his prey he volplanes; he falls like a rocket,
+and seizing a fish in the air, he wings his way again to the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>If he cannot find flying-fish, he stops gannets and terns in mid-air
+and makes them disgorge their catch, which he seizes as it falls.
+Refusal to give up the food is punished by blows on the head, but
+the gannets and terns so fear the frigate that they seldom have the
+courage to disobey. I think a better name for the frigate would be
+pirate, for he is a veritable pirate of the air. Yet no law
+restrains him.</p>
+
+<p>I observed that the male frigate has a red pouch under the throat
+which he puffs up with air when he flies far. It must have some
+other purpose, for the female lacks it, and she needs wind-power
+more than the male. It is she who seeks the food when, having laid
+her one egg on the sand, she goes abroad, leaving her husband to
+keep the egg warm.</p>
+
+<p>The tropic-bird, often called the boatswain, or phaëton, also climbs
+to great heights, and is seldom found out of these latitudes. He is
+a beautiful bird, white, or rose-colored with long carmine
+tail-feathers. In the sun these roseate birds are brilliant objects
+as they fly jerkily against the bright blue sky, or skim over the sea,
+rising and falling in their search for fish. I have seen them many
+times with the frigates, with whom they are great friends. It would
+appear that there is a bond between them; I have never seen the
+frigate rob his beautiful companion.</p>
+
+<p>In such idle observations and the vague wonders that arose from them,
+the days passed. An interminable game of cards progressed in the
+cabin, in which I occasionally took a hand. Gedge and Lying Bill
+exchanged reminiscences. McHenry drank steadily. The future governor
+of the Marquesas added a <i>galon</i> to his sleeves, marking his advance
+to a first lieutenancy in the French colonial army. He was a very
+soft, sleek man, a little worn already, his black hair a trifle thin,
+but he was plump, his skin white as milk, and his jetty beard and
+mustache elaborately cared for. He was much before the mirror,
+combing and brushing and plucking. Compared to us unkempt wretches,
+he was as a dandy to a tramp.</p>
+
+<p>The ice, which was packed in boxes of sawdust on deck, afforded one
+cold drink in which to toast the gallant future governor, and that
+was the last of it. At night the Tahitian sailors helped themselves,
+and we bade farewell to ice until once more we saw Papeite.</p>
+
+<p>It was no refreshment to reflect that had we dredging apparatus long
+enough we could procure from the sea-bottom buckets of ooze that
+would have cooled our drinks almost to the freezing point.
+Scientists have done this. Lying Bill was loth to believe the story
+and the explanation, that an icy stream flows from the Antarctic
+through a deep valley in the sea-depths.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's contrar-iry to nature,&rdquo; he affirmed. &ldquo;The depper you go the
+'otter it is. In mines the 'eat is worse the farther down. And 'ow
+about 'ell?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I slept on the deck. It was sickeningly hot below. The squalls had
+passed, and as we neared Hiva-oa the sea became glassy smooth, but
+the leagues-long, lazy roll of it rocked the schooner like a cradle.</p>
+
+<p>The night before the islands were to come into view the sea was lit
+by phosphorescence so magnificently that even my shipmates, absorbed
+in écarté below, called to one another to view it. The engine took
+us along at about six knots, and every gentle wave that broke was a
+lamp of loveliness. The wake of the <i>Morning Star</i> was a milky path
+lit with trembling fragments of brilliancy, and below the surface,
+beside the rudder, was a strip of green light from which a billion
+sparks of fire shot to the air. Far behind, until the horizon closed
+upon the ocean, our wake was curiously remindful of the boulevard of
+a great city seen through a mist, the lights fading in the dim
+distance, but sparkling still.</p>
+
+<p>I went forward and stood by the cathead. The blue water stirred
+by the bow was wonderfully bright, a mass of coruscating
+phosphorescence that lighted the prow like a lamp. It was as if
+lightning played beneath the waves, so luminous, so scintillating
+the water and its reflection upon the ship.</p>
+
+<p>The living organisms of the sea were <i>en fete</i> that night, as though
+to celebrate my coming to the islands of which I had so long dreamed.
+I smiled at the fancy, well knowing that the minute <i>pyrocistis</i>,
+having come to the surface during the calm that followed the storms,
+were showing in that glorious fire the panic caused among them by
+the cataclysm of our passing. But the individual is ever an egoist.
+It seems to man that the universe is a circle about him and his
+affairs. It may as well seem the same to the <i>pyrocistis</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Far about the ship the waves twinkled in green fire, disturbed even
+by the ruffling breeze. I drew up a bucketful of the water. In the
+darkness of the cabin it gave no light until I passed my hand
+through it. That was like opening a door into a room flooded by
+electricity; the table, the edges of the bunks, the uninterested
+faces of my shipmates, leaped from the shadows. Marvels do not seem
+marvelous to men to live among them.</p>
+
+<p>I lay long awake on deck, watching the eerily lighted sea and the
+great stars that hung low in the sky, and to my fancy it seemed that
+the air had changed, that some breath from the isles before us had
+softened the salty tang of the sea-breeze.</p>
+
+<p>Land loomed at daybreak, dark, gloomy, and inhospitable. Rain fell
+drearily as we passed Fatu-hiva, the first of the Marquesas Islands
+sighted from the south. We had climbed from Tahiti, seventeen degrees
+south of the equator, to between eleven and ten degrees south, and
+we had made a westward of ten degrees. The Marquesas Islands lay
+before us, dull spots of dark rock upon the gray water.</p>
+
+<p>They are not large, any of these islands; sixty or seventy miles is
+the greatest circumference. Some of the eleven are quite small, and
+have no people now. On the map of the world they are the tiniest
+pin-pricks. Few dwellers in Europe or America know anything about
+them. Most travelers have never heard of them. No liners touch them;
+no wire or wireless connects them with the world. No tourists visit
+them. Their people perish. Their trade languishes. In Tahiti, whence
+they draw almost all their sustenance, where their laws are made,
+and to which they look at the capital of the world, only a few men,
+who traded here, could tell me anything about the Marquesas. These
+men had only the vague, exaggerated ideas of the sailor, who goes
+ashore once or twice a year and knows nothing of the native life.</p>
+
+<p>Seven hundred and fifty miles as the frigate flies separates these
+islands from Tahiti, but no distance can measure the difference
+between the happiness of Tahiti, the sparkling, brilliant loveliness
+of that flower-decked island, and the stern, forbidding aspect of the
+Marquesas lifting from the sea as we neared them. Gone were the
+laughing vales, the pale-green hills, the luring, feminine guise of
+nature, the soft-lapping waves upon a peaceful, shining shore. The
+spirit that rides the thunder had claimed these bleak and desolate
+islands for his own.</p>
+
+<p>While the schooner made her way cautiously past the grim and rocky
+headlands of Fatu-hiva I was overwhelmed with a feeling of solemnity,
+of sadness; such a feeling as I have known to sweep over an army the
+night before a battle, when letters are written to loved ones and
+comrades entrusted with messages.</p>
+
+<p>That gaunt, dark shore itself recalls that the history of the
+Marquesas is written in blood, a black spot on the white race. It is
+a history of evil wrought by civilization, of curses heaped on a
+strange, simple people by men who sought to exploit them or to mold
+them to another pattern, who destroyed their customs and their
+happiness and left them to die, apathetic, wretched, hardly knowing
+their own miserable plight.</p>
+
+<p>The French have had their flag over the Marquesas since 1842. In
+1521 Magellan must have passed between the Marquesas and Paumotas,
+but he does not mention them. Seventy-three years later a Spanish
+flotilla sent from Callao by Don Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza, viceroy
+of Peru, found this island of Fatu-hiva, and its commander, Mendaña,
+named the group for the viceroy's lady, Las Islas Marquesas de
+Mendoza.</p>
+
+<p>One hundred and eighty years passed, and Captain Cook again
+discovered the islands, and a Frenchman, Etienne Marchand,
+discovered the northern group. The fires of liberty were blazing
+high in his home land, and Marchand named his group the Isles of the
+Revolution, in celebration of the victories of the French people. A
+year earlier an American, Ingraham, had sighted this same group and
+given it the name of his own beloved hero, Washington.</p>
+
+<p>Had not Captain Porter failed to establish American rule in 1813 in
+the island of Nuka-hiva, which he called Madison, the Marquesas
+might have been American. Porter's name, like that of Mendaña, is
+linked with deeds of cruelty. The Spaniard was without pity; the
+American may plead that his killings were reprisals or measures of
+safety for himself. Murder of Polynesians was little thought of.
+Schooners trained their guns on islands for pleasure or practice,
+and destroyed villages with all their inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To put the fear of God in the nigger's hearts,&rdquo; were the words of
+many a sanguinary captain and crew. They did not, of course, mean
+that literally. They meant the fear of themselves, and of all whites.
+They used the name of God in vain, for after a century and more of
+such intermittent effort the Polynesians have small fear or faith
+for the God of Christians, despite continuous labors of missionaries.
+God seems to have forgotten them.</p>
+
+<p>The French made the islands their political possessions with little
+difficulty. The Marquesans had no king or single chief. There were
+many tribes and clans, and it was easy to persuade or compel petty
+chiefs to sign declarations and treaties. But it was not easy to
+kill the independence of the people, and France virtually abandoned
+and retook the islands several times, her rule fluctuating with
+political conditions at home.</p>
+
+<p>There were wars, horrible, bloody scenes, when the clansmen slew the
+whites and ate them, and the bones of many a gallant French officer
+and sea-captain have moldered where they were heaped after the orgy
+following victory. But, as always, the white slew his hundreds to
+the natives' one, and in time he drove the devil of liberty and
+defense of native land from the heart of the Marquesan.</p>
+
+<p>Before the French achieved this, however, the white had sowed a crop
+of deadly evils among the Marquesans that cut them down faster than
+war, and left them desolate, dying, passing to extinction.</p>
+
+<p>As I looked from the deck of the <i>Morning Star</i> I was struck by the
+fittingness of the scene. Fatu-hiva had been left behind and Hiva-oa,
+our destination, was before us, bleak and threatening. To my eyes it
+appeared as it had been in the eyes of the gentler Polynesians of
+old time, the abode of demons and of a race of terrible warriors.
+Hence descended the Marquesans, Vikings of the Pacific, in giant
+canoes, and sprang upon the fighting men of the Tahitians, the
+Raiateans and the Paumotans, slaughtering their hundreds and carrying
+away scores to feast upon in the High Places.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;<i>Mauri i te popoi a ee i te au marere i hiti tovau.</i></span>
+<span><i>Ia tari a oe. Tari a rutu mai i hea?</i></span>
+<span><i>A rutu mai i toerau i hitia!</i></span>
+<span><i>O te au marere i hiti atu a Vaua a ratu i reira</i></span>
+<span><i>A rutu i toerau roa!</i></span>
+<span><i>Areare te hai o Nu'u-hiva roa.</i></span>
+<span><i>I te are e huti te tai a Vavea.</i>&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+<p></p>
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;The spirit of the morning rides the flying vapor that rises salt from the sea.</span>
+<span>Bear on! Bear on! And strike&mdash;where?</span>
+<span>Strike to the northeast!</span>
+<span>The vapor flies to the far rim of the Sea of Atolls.</span>
+<span>Strike there! Strike far north!</span>
+<span>The sea casts up distant Nuka-Hiva, Land of the War Fleet, where the waves are towering billows.&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>This was the ancient chant of the Raiateans, sung in the old days
+before the whites came, when they thought of the deeds that were
+done by the more-than-human men who lived on these desolate islands.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr07"></a>
+<a href="images/img07.jpg"><img src="images/thumb07.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Harbor of Tai-o-hae</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr08"></a>
+<a href="images/img08.jpg"><img src="images/thumb08.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Schooner <i>Fetia Taiao</i> in the Bay of Traitors.<br/>
+The little isle behind the schooner is Hanake</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Anchorage of Taha-Uka; Exploding Eggs, and his engagement as valet;
+inauguration of the new governor; dance on the palace lawn.</i></p>
+
+<p>As we approached Hiva-oa the giant height of Temetiu slowly lifted
+four thousand feet above the sea, swathed in blackest clouds. Below,
+purple-black valleys came one by one into view, murky caverns of
+dank vegetation. Towering precipices, seamed and riven, rose above
+the vast welter of the gray sea.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly we crept into the wide Bay of Traitors and felt our way into
+the anchorage of Taha-Uka, a long and narrow passage between
+frowning cliffs, spray-dashed walls of granite lashed fiercely by
+the sea. All along the bluffs were cocoanut-palms, magnificent,
+waving their green fronds in the breeze. Darker green, the mountains
+towered above them, and far on the higher slopes we saw wild goats
+leaping from crag to crag and wild horses running in the upper
+valleys.</p>
+
+<p>A score or more of white ribbons depended from the lofty heights,
+and through the binoculars I saw them to be waterfalls. They were
+like silver cords swaying in the wind, and when brought nearer by
+the glasses, I saw that some of them were heavy torrents while others,
+gauzy as wisps of chiffon, hardly veiled the black walls behind them.</p>
+
+<p>The whole island dripped. The air was saturated, the decks were wet,
+and along the shelves of basalt that jutted from the cliffs a
+hundred blow-holes spouted and roared. In ages of endeavor the ocean
+had made chambers in the rock and cut passages to the top, through
+which, at every surge of the pounding waves, the water rushed and
+rose high in the air.</p>
+
+<p>Iron-bound, the mariner calls this coast, and the word makes one see
+the powerful, severe mold of it. Molten rock fused in subterranean
+fires and cast above the sea cooled into these ominous ridges, and
+stern unyielding walls.</p>
+
+<p>There upon the deck I determined not to leave until I had lived for
+a time amid these wild scenes. My intention had been to voyage with
+the <i>Morning Star</i>, returning with her to Tahiti, but a mysterious
+voice called to me from the dusky valleys. I could not leave without
+penetrating into those abrupt and melancholy depths of forest,
+without endeavoring, though ever so feebly, to stir the cold brew of
+legend and tale fast disappearing in stupor and forgetfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Lying Bill protested volubly; he liked company and would regret my
+contribution to the expense account. Gedge joined him in serious
+opposition to the plan, urging that I would not be able to find a
+place to live, that there was no hotel, club, lodging, or food for a
+stranger. But I was determined to stay, though I must sleep under a
+breadfruit-tree. As I was a mere roamer, with no calendar or even a
+watch, I had but to fetch my few belongings ashore and be a Marquesan.
+These belongings I gathered together, and finding me obdurate, Lying
+Bill reluctantly agreed to set them on the beach.</p>
+
+<p>On either side of Taha-Uka inlet are landing-places, one in front of
+a store, the other leading only to the forest. These are stairways
+cut in the basaltic wall of the cliffs, and against them the waves
+pound continuously. The beach of Taha-Uka was a mile from where we
+lay and not available for traffic, but around a shoulder of the
+bluffs was hidden the tiny bay of Atuona, where goods could be landed.</p>
+
+<p>While we discussed this, around those jutting rocks shot a small
+out-rigger canoe, frail and hardly large enough to hold the body of
+a slender Marquesan boy who paddled it. About his middle he wore a
+red and yellow <i>pareu</i>, and his naked body was like a small and
+perfect statue as he handled his tiny craft. When he came over the
+side I saw that he was about thirteen years old and very handsome,
+tawny in complexion, with regular features and an engaging smile.</p>
+
+<p>His name, he said, was Nakohu, which means Exploding Eggs. This last
+touch was all that was needed; without further ado I at once engaged
+him as valet for the period of my stay in the Marquesas. His duties
+would be to help in conveying my luggage ashore, to aid me in the
+mysteries of cooking breadfruit and such other edibles as I might
+discover, and to converse with me in Marquesan. In return, he was to
+profit by the honor of being attached to my person, by an option on
+such small articles as I might leave behind on my departure, and by
+the munificent salary of about five cents a day. His gratitude and
+delight knew no bounds.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had the arrangement been made, when a whaleboat rowed by
+Marquesans followed in the wake of the canoe, and a tall, rangy
+Frenchman climbed aboard the <i>Morning Star</i>. He was Monsieur André
+Bauda, agent special, <i>commissaire</i>, postmaster; a <i>beau sabreur</i>,
+veteran of many campaigns in Africa, dressed in khaki, medals on his
+chest, full of gay words and fierce words, drinking his rum neat,
+and the pink of courtesy. He had come to examine the ship's papers,
+and to receive the new governor.</p>
+
+<p>A look of blank amazement appeared upon the round face of M. L'Hermier
+des Plantes when it was conveyed to him that this solitary
+whaleboat had brought a solitary white to welcome him to his seat of
+government. He had been assiduously preparing for his reception for
+many hours and was immaculately dressed in white duck, his legs in
+high, brightly-polished boots, his two stripes in velvet on his
+sleeve, and his military cap shining. He knew no more about the
+Marquesas than I, having come directly via Tahiti from France, and he
+was plainly dumfounded and dismayed. Was all that tender care of his
+whiskers to be wasted on scenery?</p>
+
+<p>However, after a drink or two he resignedly took his belongings, and
+dropping into the wet and dirty boat with Bauda, he lifted an
+umbrella over his gaudy cap and disappeared in the rain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'E's got a bloomin' nice place to live in,&rdquo; remarked Lying Bill.
+&ldquo;Now, if 'e 'd a-been 'ere when I come 'e 'd a-seen something! I
+come 'ere thirty-five years ago when I was a young kid. I come with
+a skipper and I was the only crew. Me and him, and I was eighteen,
+and the boat was the <i>Victor</i>. I lived 'ere and about for ten years.
+Them was the days for a little excitement. There was a chief, Mohuho,
+who'd a-killed me if I 'adn't been <i>tapu'd</i> by Vaekehu, the queen,
+wot took a liking to me, me being a kid, and white. I've seen Mohuho
+shoot three natives from cocoanut-trees just to try a new gun. 'E
+was a bad 'un, 'e was. There was something doing every day, them days.
+God, wot it is to be young!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A little later Lying Bill, Ducat, and I, with my new valet's canoe
+in the wake of our boat, rounded the cliffs that had shut off our
+view of Atuona Valley. It lay before us, a long and narrow stretch
+of sand behind a foaming and heavy surf; beyond, a few scattered
+wooden buildings among palm and banian-trees, and above, the ribbed
+gaunt mountains shutting in a deep and gloomy ravine. It was a lonely,
+beautiful place, ominous, melancholy, yet majestic.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bloody Hiva-oa,&rdquo; this island was called. Long after the French had
+subdued by terror the other isles of the group, Hiva-oa remained
+obdurate, separate, and untamed. It was the last stronghold of
+brutishness, of cruel chiefs and fierce feuds, of primitive and
+terrible customs. And of &ldquo;the man-eating isle of Hiva-oa&rdquo; Atuona
+Valley was the capital.</p>
+
+<p>We landed on the beach dry-shod, through the skill of the
+boat-steerer and the strength of the Tahitian sailors, who carried
+us through the surf and set my luggage among the thick green vines
+that met the tide. We were dressed to call upon the governor, whose
+inauguration was to take place that afternoon, and leaving my
+belongings in care of the faithful Exploding Eggs, we set off up the
+valley.</p>
+
+<p>The rough road, seven or eight feet wide, was raised on rocks above
+the jungle and was bordered by giant banana plants and cocoanuts. At
+this season all was a swamp below us, the orchard palms standing many
+feet deep in water and mud, but their long green fronds and the
+darker tangle of wild growth on the steep mountain-sides were
+beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The government house was set half a mile farther on in the narrowing
+ravine, and on the way we passed a desolate dwelling, squalid, set
+in the marsh, its battered verandas and open doors disclosing a
+wretched mingling of native bareness with poverty-stricken European
+fittings. On the tottering veranda sat a ragged Frenchman, bearded
+and shaggy-haired, and beside him three girls as blonde as German
+<i>Mädchens</i>. Their white delicate faces and blue eyes, in such
+surroundings, struck one like a blow. The eldest was a girl of
+eighteen years, melancholy, though pretty, wearing like the others a
+dirty gown and no shoes or stockings. The man was in soiled overalls,
+and reeling drunk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is Baufré,&rdquo; said Ducat. &ldquo;He is always drunk. He married the
+daughter of an Irish trader, a former officer in the British Indian
+Light Cavalry. Baufré was a <i>sous-officier</i> in the French forces here.
+There is no native blood in those girls. What will become of them, I
+wonder?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A few hundred yards further on was the palace. It was a wooden house
+of four or five rooms, with an ample veranda, surrounded by an acre
+of ground fenced in. The sward was the brilliantly green, luxuriant
+wild growth that in these islands covers every foot of earth surface.
+Cocoanuts and mango-trees rose from this volunteer lawn, and under
+them a dozen rosebushes, thick with excessively fragrant bloom.
+Pineapples grew against the palings, and a bed of lettuce flourished
+in the rear beside a tiny pharmacy, a kitchen, and a shelter for
+servants.</p>
+
+<p>On the spontaneous verdure before the veranda three score Marquesans
+stood or squatted, the men in shirts and overalls and the women in
+tunics. Their skins, not brown nor red nor yellow, but tawny like
+that of the white man deeply tanned by the sun, reminded me again
+that these people may trace back their ancestry to the Caucasian
+cradle. The hair of the women was adorned with gay flowers or the
+leaves of the false coffee bush. Their single garments of gorgeous
+colors clung to their straight, rounded bodies, their dark eyes were
+soft and full of light as the eyes of deer, and their features,
+clean-cut and severe, were of classic lines.</p>
+
+<p>The men, tall and massive, seemed awkwardly constricted in
+ill-fitting, blue cotton overalls such as American laborers wear
+over street-clothes. Their huge bodies seemed about to break through
+the flimsy bindings, and the carriage of their striking heads made
+the garments ridiculous. Most of them had fairly regular features on
+a large scale, their mouths wide, and their lips full and sensual.
+They wore no hats or ornaments, though it has ever been the custom
+of all Polynesians to put flowers and wreaths upon their heads.</p>
+
+<p>Men and women were waiting with a kind of apathetic resignation;
+melancholy and unresisting despair seemed the only spirit left to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>On the veranda with the governor and Bauda were several whites, one
+a French woman to whom we were presented. Madame Bapp, fat and
+red-faced, in a tight silk gown over corsets, was twice the size of
+her husband, a dapper, small man with huge mustaches, a paper collar
+to his ears, and a fiery, red-velvet cravat.</p>
+
+<p>On a table were bottles of absinthe and champagne, and several
+demijohns of red wine stood on the floor. All our company attacked
+the table freight and drank the warm champagne.</p>
+
+<p>A seamy-visaged Frenchman, Pierre Guillitoue, the village butcher&mdash;a
+philosopher and anarchist, he told me&mdash;rapped with a bottle on the
+veranda railing. The governor, in every inch of gold lace possible,
+made a gallant figure as he rose and faced the people. His whiskers
+were aglow with dressing. The ceremony began with an address by a
+native, Haabunai.</p>
+
+<p>Intrepreted by Guillitoue, Haabunai said that the Marquesans were
+glad to have a new governor, a wise man who would cure their ills, a
+just ruler, and a friend; then speaking directly to his own people,
+he praised extravagantly the newcomer, so that Guillitoue choked in
+his translation, and ceased, and mixed himself a glass of absinthe
+and water.</p>
+
+<p>The governor replied briefly in French. He said that he had come in
+their interest; that he would not cheat them or betray them; that he
+would make them well if they were sick. The French flag was their
+flag; the French people loved them. The Marquesans listened without
+interest, as if he spoke of some one in Tibet who wanted to sell a
+green elephant.</p>
+
+<p>In the South Seas a meeting out-of-doors means a dance. The
+Polynesians have ever made this universal human expression of the
+rhythmic principle of motion the chief evidence of emotion, and
+particularly of elation. Civilization has all but stifled it in many
+islands. Christianity has made it a sin. It dies hard, for it is the
+basic outlet of strong natural feeling, and the great group
+entertainment of these peoples.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr09"></a>
+<a href="images/img09.jpg"><img src="images/thumb09.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>André Bauda, Commissaire</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr10"></a>
+<a href="images/img10.jpg"><img src="images/thumb10.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The public dance in the garden</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The speeches done, the governor suggested that the national spirit
+be interpreted to him in pantomine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They must be enlivened with alcohol or they will not move,&rdquo; said
+Guillitoue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon dieu!</i>&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;It is the &lsquo;Folies Bergère&rsquo; over again!
+Give them wine!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Bauda ordered Flag, the native gendarme, and Song of the Nightingale,
+a prisoner, to carry a demijohn of Bordeaux wine to the garden. With
+two glasses they circulated the claret until each Marquesan had a
+pint or so. Song of the Nightingale was a middle-aged savage, with a
+wicked, leering face, and whiskers from his ears to the corners of
+his mouth, surely a strange product of the Marquesan race, none of
+whose men will permit any hair to grow on lip or cheek. While Song
+circulated the wine M. Bauda enlightened me as to the crime that had
+made him prisoner. He was serving eighteen months for selling
+cocoanut brandy.</p>
+
+<p>When the cask was emptied the people began the dance. Three rows
+were formed, one of women between two of men, in Indian file facing
+the veranda. Haabunai and Song of the Nightingale brought forth the
+drums. These were about four feet high, barbaric instruments of skin
+stretched over hollow logs, and the &ldquo;Boom-Boom&rdquo; that came from them
+when they were struck by the hands of the two strong men was
+thrilling and strange.</p>
+
+<p>The dance was formal, slow, and melancholy. Haabunai gave the order
+of it, shouting at the top of his voice. The women, with blue and
+scarlet Chinese shawls of silk tied about their hips, moved stiffly,
+without interest or spontaneous spirit, as though constrained and
+indifferent. Though the dances were licentious, they conveyed no
+meaning and expressed no emotion. The men gestured by rote,
+appealing mutely to the spectators, so that one might fancy them
+orators whose voices failed to reach one. There was no laughter, not
+even a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give them another demijohn!&rdquo; said the governor.</p>
+
+<p>The juice of the grape dissolved melancholy. When the last of it had
+flowed the dance was resumed. The women began a spirited <i>danse du
+ventre</i>. Their eyes now sparkled, their bodies were lithe and
+graceful. McHenry rushed on to the lawn and taking his place among
+them copied their motions in antics that set them roaring with the
+hearty roars of the conquered at the asininity of the conquerors.
+They tried to continue the dance, but could not for merriment.</p>
+
+<p>One of the dancers advanced toward the veranda and in a ceremonious
+way kissed the governor upon the lips. That young executive was much
+surprised, but returned the salute and squeezed her tiny waist. All
+the company laughed at this, except Madame Bapp, who glared angrily
+and exclaimed, &ldquo;<i>Coquine!</i>&rdquo; which means hussy.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesans have no kisses in their native love-making, but smell
+one or rub noses, as do the Eskimo. Whites, however, have taught
+kisses in all their variety.</p>
+
+<p>The governor had the girl drink a glass of champagne. She was
+perhaps sixteen years old, a charming girl, smiling, simple, and
+lovely. Her skin, like that of all Marquesans, was olive, not brown
+like the Hawaiians' or yellow like the Chinese, but like that of
+whites grown dark in the sun. She had black, streaming hair, sloe
+eyes, and an arch expression. Her manner was artlessly ingratiating,
+and her sweetness of disposition was not marked by hauteur. When I
+noticed that her arm was tattoed, she slipped off her dress and sat
+naked to the waist to show all her adornment.</p>
+
+<p>There was an inscription of three lines stretching from her shoulder
+to her wrist, the letters nearly an inch in length, crowded together
+in careless inartistry. The legend was as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;TAHIAKEANA TEIKIMOEATIPANIE PAHAKA AVII
+ANIPOENUIMATILAILI
+TETUATONOEINUHAPALIILII&rdquo;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>These were the names given her at birth, and tattooed in her
+childhood. She was called, she said, Tahiakeana, Weaver of Mats.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing her success among us and noting the champagne, her companions
+began to thrust forward on to the veranda to share her luck. This
+angered the governor, who thought his dignity assailed. At Bauda's
+order, the gendarme and Song of the Nightingale dismissed the
+visitors, put McHenry to sleep under a tree, and escorted the new
+executive and me to Bauda's home on the beach.</p>
+
+<p>There in his board shanty, six by ten feet, we ate our first dinner
+in the islands, while the wind surged through swishing palm-leaves
+outside, and nuts fell now and then upon the iron roof with the
+resounding crash of bombs. It was a plain, but plentiful, meal of
+canned foods, served by the tawny gendarme and the wicked Song,
+whose term of punishment for distributing brandy seemed curiously
+suited to his crime.</p>
+
+<p>At midnight I accompanied a happy governor to his palace, which had
+one spare bedroom, sketchily furnished. During the night the slats
+of my bed gave way with a dreadful din, and I woke to find the
+governor in pajamas of rose-colored silk, with pistol in hand,
+shedding electric rays upon me from a battery lamp. There was
+anxiety in his manner as he said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You never can tell. A chief's son tried to kill my predecessor. I
+do not know these Marquesans. We are few whites here. And, <i>mon dieu!</i>
+the guardian of the palace is himself a native!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr11"></a>
+<a href="images/img11.jpg"><img src="images/thumb11.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Antoinette, a Marquesan dancing girl</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr12"></a>
+<a href="images/img12.jpg"><img src="images/thumb12.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Marquesans in Sunday clothes<br/>
+The daughter of Titihuti, chieftess of Hiva-Oa. On the left her husband,
+Pierre Pradorat, on the right, his brother</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>First night in Atuona valley; sensational arrival of the Golden Bed;
+Titi-huti's tattooed legs.</i></p>
+
+<p>It was necessary to find at once a residence for my contemplated
+stay in Atuona, for the schooner sailed on the morrow, and my brief
+glimpse of the Marquesans had whetted my desire to live among them.
+I would not accept the courteous invitation of the governor to stay
+at the palace, for officialdom never knows its surroundings, and
+grandeur makes for no confidence from the lowly.</p>
+
+<p>Lam Kai Oo, an aged Chinaman whom I encountered at the trader's
+store, came eagerly to my rescue with an offered lease of his
+deserted store and bakeshop. From Canton he had been brought in
+his youth by the labor bosses of western America to help build the
+transcontinental railway, and later another agency had set him down
+in Taha-Uka to grow cotton for John Hart. He saw the destruction of
+that plantation, escaped the plague of opium, and with his scant
+savings made himself a petty merchant in Atuona. Now he was old and
+had retired up the valley to the home he had long established there
+beside his copra furnace and his shrine of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.</p>
+
+<p>He led me to the abandoned shack, a long room, tumbledown, moist,
+festooned with cobwebs, the counters and benches black with
+reminiscences of twenty thousand tradings and Chinese meals. The
+windows were but half a dozen bars, and the heavy vapors of a cruel
+past hung about the sombre walls. Though opium had long been
+contraband, its acrid odor permeated the worn furnishings. Here with
+some misgivings I prepared to spend my second night in Hiva-oa.</p>
+
+<p>I left the palace late, and found the shack by its location next the
+river on the main road. Midnight had come, no creature stirred as I
+opened the door. The few stars in the black velvet pall of the sky
+seemed to ray out positive darkness, and the spirit of Po, the
+Marquesan god of evil, breathed from the unseen, shuddering forest.
+I tried to damn my mood, but found no profanity utterable. Rain
+began to fall, and I pushed into the den.</p>
+
+<p>A glimpse of the dismal interior did not cheer me. I locked the door
+with the great iron key, spread my mat, and blew out the lantern.
+Soon from out the huge brick oven where for decades Lam Kai Oo had
+baked his bread there stole scratching, whispering forms that slid
+along the slippery floor and leaped about the seats where many long
+since dead had sat. I lay quiet with a will to sleep, but the hair
+stirred on my scalp.</p>
+
+<p>The darkness was incredible, burdensome, like a weight. The sound of
+the wind and the rain in the breadfruit forest and the low roar of
+the torrent became only part of the silence in which those invisible
+presences crept and rustled. Try as I would I could recall no good
+deed of mine to shine for me in that shrouded confine. The Celtic
+vision of my forefathers, that strange mixture of the terrors of
+Druid and soggarth, danced on the creaking floor, and witch-lights
+gleamed on ceiling and timbers. I thought to dissolve it all with a
+match, but whether all awake or partly asleep, I had no strength to
+reach it.</p>
+
+<p>Then something clammily touched my face, and with a bound I had the
+lantern going. No living thing moved in the circle of its rays. My
+flesh crawled on my bones, and sitting upright on my mat I chanted
+aloud from the Bible in French with Tahitian parallels. The glow of
+a pipe and the solace of tobacco aided the rhythm of the prophets in
+dispelling the ghosts of the gloom, but never shipwrecked mariner
+greeted the dawn with greater joy than I.</p>
+
+<p>In its pale light I peered through the barred windows&mdash;the windows
+of the Chinese the world over&mdash;and saw four men who had set down a
+coffin to rest themselves and smoke a cigarette. They sat on the
+rude box covered with a black cloth and passed the pandanus-wrapped
+tobacco about. Naked, except for loin-cloths, their tawny skins
+gleaming wet in the gray light, rings of tattooing about their eyes,
+they made a strange picture against the jungle growth.</p>
+
+<p>They were without fire for they had got into a deep place crossing
+the stream and had wet their matches. I handed a box through the bars,
+and by reckless use of the few words of Marquesan I recalled, and
+bits of French they knew, helped out by scraps of Spanish one had
+gained from the Chilean murderer who milked the cows for the German
+trader, I learned that the corpse was that of a woman of sixty years,
+whose agonies had been soothed by the ritual of the Catholic church.
+The bearers were taking her to Calvary cemetery on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Their cigarettes smoked, they rose and took up the long poles on
+which the coffin was swung. Moving with the tread of panthers, firm,
+noiseless, and graceful, they disappeared into the forest and I was
+left alone with the morning sun and the glistening leaves of the
+rain-wet breadfruit-trees.</p>
+
+<p>On the beach an hour later I met Gedge, who asked me with a
+quizzical eye how I had enjoyed my first night among the Kanakas. I
+replied that I had seldom passed such a night, spoke glowingly of
+the forest and the stream, and said that I was still determined to
+remain behind when the schooner sailed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if you will stay,&rdquo; said he, and the trader's look came into
+his eye, &ldquo;I've got just the thing you want. You don't want to lie
+on a mat where the thousand-legs can get you&mdash;and if they get you,
+you die. You want to live right. Now listen to me; I got the best
+brass bed ever a king slept on. Double thickness, heavy brass bed,
+looks like solid gold. Springs that would hold the schooner,
+double-thick mattress, sheets and pillows all embroidered like it
+belonged to a duchess. Fellow was going to be married that I brought
+it for, but now he's lying up there in Calvary in a bed they dug for
+him. I'll let you have it cheap&mdash;three hundred francs. It's worth
+double. What do you say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A brass bed, a golden bed in the cannibal islands!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's a go,&rdquo; I said.</p>
+
+<p>On the deck of the <i>Morning Star</i> I beheld the packing-cases brought
+up from the hold, and my new purchase with all its parts and
+appurtenances loaded in a ship's boat, with the iron box that held
+my gold. So I arrived in Atuona for the second time, high astride the
+sewed-up mattress on top of the metal parts, and so deftly did the
+Tahitians handle the oars that, though we rode the surf right up to
+the creeping jungle flowers that met the tide on Atuona beach, I was
+not wet except by spray.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr13"></a>
+<a href="images/img13.jpg"><img src="images/thumb13.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Vai Etienne</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr14"></a>
+<a href="images/img14.jpg"><img src="images/thumb14.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The pool by the Queen's house</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Our arrival was watched by a score of Marquesan chiefs who had been
+summoned by Bauda for the purpose, as he told me, of being urged to
+thrash the tax-tree more vigorously. The meeting adjourned instantly,
+and they hastened down from the frame building that housed the
+government offices. Their curiosity could not be restrained. A score
+of eager hands stripped the coverings from the brass bed, and
+exposed the glittering head and foot pieces in the brilliant sunlight.
+Exclamations of amazement and delight greeted the marvel. This was
+another wonder from the white men's isles, indicative of wealth and
+royal taste.</p>
+
+<p>From all sides other natives came hastening. My brass bed and I were
+the center of a gesticulating circle, dark eyes rolled with
+excitement and naked shoulder jostled shoulder. Three chiefs,
+tattooed and haughty, personally erected the bed, and when I
+disclosed the purpose of the mattress, placed it in position. Every
+woman present now pushed forward and begged the favor of being
+allowed to bounce upon it. It became a diversion attended with high
+honor. Controversies meantime raged about the bed. Many voices
+estimated the number of mats that would be necessary to equal the
+thickness of the mattress, but none found a comparison worthy of its
+softness and elasticity.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this mêlée one woman, whose eyes and facial contour
+betrayed Chinese blood, but who was very comely and neat, pushed
+forward and pointing to the glittering center of attraction repeated
+over and over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Kisskisskissa? Kisskisskissa?</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For awhile I was disposed to credit her with a sudden affection for
+me, but soon resolved her query into the French &ldquo;Qu'est-ce que c'est
+que ca? What is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was Apporo, wife of Puhei, Great Fern, she said, and she owned a
+house in which her father, a Chinaman, had recently died. This house
+she earnestly desired to give me in exchange for the golden bed, and
+we struck a bargain. I was to live in the house of Apporo and, on
+departing, to leave her the bed. Great Fern, her husband, was called
+to seal the compact. He was a giant in stature, dark skinned, with a
+serene countenance and crisp hair. They agreed to clean the house
+thoroughly and to give me possession at once.</p>
+
+<p>They were really mad to have the bed, in all its shiny golden beauty,
+and once the arrangement was made they could hardly give over
+examining it, crawling beneath it, smoothing the mattress and
+fingering the springs. They shook it, poked it, patted it, and
+finally Apporo, filled with feminine pride, arrogated to herself the
+sole privilege of bouncing upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Lam Kai Oo wailed his loss of a tenant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You savee thlat house belong lep',&rdquo; he argued earnestly. &ldquo;My sto'e
+littee dirty, but I fixum. You go thlat lep' house, bimeby flinger
+dlop, toe dlop, nose he go.&rdquo; He grimaced frightfully, and indicated
+in pantomime the ravages of leprosy upon the human form.</p>
+
+<p>His appeal was in vain. The Golden Bed, upraised on the shoulders of
+four stalwart chiefs, began its triumphal progress up the valley road.
+Behind it officiously walked Exploding Eggs, puffed up with
+importance, regarded on all sides with respect as <i>Tueni Oki Kiki</i>,
+Keeper of the Golden Bed, but jostled for position by Apporo, envied
+of women. Behind them up the rough road hastened the rest of the
+village, eager to see the installation of the marvel in its new
+quarters, and I followed the barbaric procession leisurely.</p>
+
+<p>My new residence was a mile from the beach, and off the main
+thoroughfare, though this mattered little. The roads built decades
+ago by the French are so ruined and neglected that not a thousand
+feet of them remain in all the islands. No wheel supports a vehicle,
+not even a wheelbarrow. Trails thread the valleys and climb the hills,
+and traffic is by horse and human.</p>
+
+<p>My Golden Bed, lurching precariously in the narrow path, led me
+through tangled jungle growth to the first sight of my new home, a
+small house painted bright blue and roofed with corrugated iron. Set
+in the midst of the forest, it was raised from the ground on a
+<i>paepae</i>, a great platform made of basalt stones, black, smooth
+and big, the very flesh of the Marquesas Islands. Every house built
+by a native since their time began has been set on a <i>paepae</i>, and
+mine had been erected in days beyond the memory of any living man.
+It was fifty feet broad and as long, raised eight feet from the earth,
+which was reached by worn steps.</p>
+
+<p>Above the small blue-walled house the rocky peak of Temetiu rose
+steeply, four thousand feet into the air, its lower reaches clothed
+in jungle-vines, and trees, its summit dark green under a clear sky,
+but black when the sun was hidden. Most of the hours of the day it
+was but a dim shadow above a belt of white clouds, but up to its
+mysterious heights a broken ridge climbed sheer from the valley, and
+upon it browsed the wild boar and the crag-loving goat.</p>
+
+<p>Beside the house the river brawled through a greenwood of
+bread-fruit-, cocoanut-, vi-apple-, mango- and lime-trees. The
+tropical heat distilled from their leaves a drowsy woodland odor
+which filled the two small whitewashed rooms, and the shadows of the
+trees, falling through the wide unglassed windows, made a sun-flecked
+pattern on the black stone floor. This was the House of Lepers, now
+rechristened the House of the Golden Bed, which was to be my home
+through the unknown days before me.</p>
+
+<p>The next day I watched the <i>Morning Star</i> lift her sails and move
+slowly out of the Bay of Traitors into the open sea, with less
+regret than I have ever felt in that moment of wistfulness which
+attends the departure of a sailing-ship. Exploding Eggs, at my side,
+read correctly my returning eyes. &ldquo;Kaoha!&rdquo; he said, with a wide
+smile of welcome, and with him and Vai, my next-door neighbor, I
+returned gladly to my <i>paepae</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Vai, or in English, Water, was a youth of twenty years, a dandy; on
+ordinary occasions naked, except for the <i>pareu</i> about his loins,
+but on Sundays or when courting rejoicing in the gayest of
+Europeanized clothes. He lived near me in a small house on the
+river-bank with his mother and sister. All were of a long line of
+chiefs, and all marvelously large and handsome.</p>
+
+<p>The mother, Titihuti, would have been beloved of the ancient artists
+who might have drawn her for an Amazon. I have never seen another
+woman of such superb carriage. Her hair was blood-red, her brow lofty,
+and an indescribable air of majesty and pride spoke eloquently of
+her descent from fathers and mothers of power. She had wonderful legs,
+statuesque in mold, and tattooed from ankles to thigh in most
+amazing patterns. To a Marquesan of her generation the tattooed legs
+of a shapely woman were the highest reach of art.</p>
+
+<p>Titihuti was very proud of her legs. Though she was devout Catholic
+and well aware of the contempt of the church for such vanities,
+religion could not entirely efface her pride. During the first few
+days she passed and repassed my cabin in her walks about her
+household duties, lifting her tunic each day a little higher. Her
+vanity would no doubt have continued this gradual course, but that
+one day I came upon her in the river entirely nude. Her
+gratification was unconcealed; naively she displayed the innumerable
+whirls and arabesques of her adornment for my compliments, and
+thereafter she wore only a <i>pareu</i> when at home, entirely dropping
+alien standards of modesty and her gown.</p>
+
+<p>She said that people came from far valleys to see her legs, and I
+could readily believe it. It was so with the leg of the late Queen
+Vaekehu, a leg so perfect in mold and so elaborately and
+artistically inked that it distinguished her even more than her rank.
+Casual whites, especially, considered it a curiosity, and offended
+her majesty by laying democratic hands upon the masterpiece. I had
+known a man or two who had seen the queen at home, and who testified
+warmly to the harmonious blending of flesh color with the candle-nut
+soot. Among my effects in the House of the Golden Bed I had a
+photograph showing the multiplicity and fine execution of the
+designs upon Vaekehu's leg, yet comparing it with the two realities
+of Titihuti I could not yield the palm to the queen.</p>
+
+<p>The legs of Titihuti were tattooed from toes to ankles with a
+net-like pattern, and from the ankles to the waistline, where the
+design terminated in a handsome girdle, there were curves, circles
+and filigree, all in accord, all part of a harmonious whole, and
+most pleasing to the eye. The pattern upon her feet was much like
+that of sandals or high mocassins, indicating a former use of
+leg-coverings in a cold climate. Titihuti herself, after an anxious
+inch-for-inch matching of picture and living form, said complacently
+that her legs were <i>meitai ae</i>, which meant that she would not have
+hesitated to enter her own decorations in beauty competition with
+those of Vaekehu.</p>
+
+<p>Kake, her daughter, had been christened for her mother's greatest
+charm, for her name means Tattooed to the Loins, though there was
+not a tattoo mark upon her. She was a beautiful, stately girl of
+nineteen or twenty, married to a devoted native, to whom, shortly
+after my arrival, she presented his own living miniature. I was the
+startled witness of the birth of this babe, the delight of his
+father's heart.</p>
+
+<p>My neighbors and I had the same bathing hour, soon after daylight,
+and usually chose the same pool in the clear river. Kake was lying
+on a mat on their <i>paepae</i> when I passed one morning, and when I
+said &ldquo;Kaoha&rdquo; to her she did not reply. Her silence caused me to
+mount the stairway, and at that moment the child was born.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later she joined me in the river, and laughing back at
+me over her shoulder as she plunged through the water, called that
+she would give the child my name. That afternoon she was sitting on
+my <i>paepae</i>, a bewitching sight as she held the suckling to her
+breast and crooned of his forefather's deeds before the white had
+gripped them.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Visit of Chief Seventh Man Who is So Angry He Wallows in the Mire;
+journey to Vait-hua on Tahuata island; fight with the devil-fish;
+story of a cannibal feast and the two who escaped.</i></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Iron Fingers That Make Words,&rdquo; the Marquesans called my
+typewriter. Such a wonder had never before been beheld in the islands,
+and its fame spread far. From other valleys and even from distant
+islands the curious came in threes and fours. They watched the
+strange thing write their names and carefully carried away the bits
+of paper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aue!&rdquo; they cried as I showed them my speed, which would be a shame
+to a typist.</p>
+
+<p>Chiefs especially were my visitors, thinking it proper to their
+estate and to mine that they should call upon me and invite me to
+their seats of government.</p>
+
+<p>So it happened that one morning as I sat on my <i>paepae</i> eating a
+breakfast of roasted breadfruit prepared for me by Exploding Eggs,
+my naked skin enjoying the warmth of the sun and my ears filled with
+the bubbling laughter of the brook, I beheld two stately visitors
+approaching. Exploding Eggs named them to me as they came up the
+trail.</p>
+
+<p>Both were leading chiefs of the islands. Katu, Piece of Tattooing,
+of Hekeani, led the way. His severe and dignified face was a dark
+blue in color. His eyes alone were free from imbedded indigo ink.
+They gleamed like white clouds in a blue sky, but their glance was
+mild and kindly. Sixty years of age, he still walked with upright
+grace, only the softened contours of his face betraying that he was
+well in his manhood when his valley was still given over to tribal
+warfares, orgies, and cannibalism.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him came Neo Afitu Atrien, of Vait-hua, a stocky brown man
+with a lined face, stubby mustache, and brilliant, intelligent eyes.
+He mounted the steps, shook hands heartily, and poured out
+his informed soul in English.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Johnny, I spik Ingrish. You Iris'man. You got &lsquo;O,&rsquo; before name. I
+know you got tipwrite can make machine do pen. I know Panama Canal.
+How is Teddy and Gotali?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I assured the chief that both Roosevelt and Goethals were well at
+last account, and he veered to other topics.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Before time, come prenty whaleship my place,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I know
+geograffy, mappee, grammal. I know Egyptee, Indee, all country; I
+know Bufflobillee. Before time, whaleship come America for take
+water and wood. Stay two, t'ree week. Every night sailor come ashore
+catchee girls take ship. Prenty rum, biskit, molassi, good American
+tobbacee. Now all finish. Whaleship no more. That is not good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His name means The Seventh Man Who Is So Angry He Wallows In The Mire.
+&ldquo;Neo&rdquo; means all but the number, and for so short a word to be
+translated by so detailed a statement would indicate that there were
+many Marquesans whose anger tripped them. Else such a word had
+hardly been born.</p>
+
+<p>I showed the chiefs the marvels of my typewriter, displayed to their
+respectful gaze the Golden Bed, and otherwise did the honors. As
+they departed, Neo said earnestly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You come see me you have my house. You like, you bring prenty rum,
+keep warm if rain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A wicked man,&rdquo; said Exploding Eggs in Marquesan when the trail lay
+empty before us. &ldquo;One time he drink much rum, French gendarme go to
+arrest him, he bite&mdash;&rdquo; With an eloquent gesture my valet indicated
+that Neo's teeth had removed in its entirety the nose of the valiant
+defender of morals. &ldquo;No good go see him,&rdquo; he added with finality.</p>
+
+<p>However, the prospect intrigued my fancy, and finding a few days
+later that Ika Vaikoki, whose discerning parents had named him Ugh!
+Dried-up Stream! was voyaging toward Vait-hua in a whaleboat, I
+offered him ten francs and two litres of rum to take me. Remembering
+Neo's suggestion, I took also two other bottles of rum.</p>
+
+<p>While our whaleboat shot across the Bordelaise Channel pursued by a
+brisk breeze, Ugh! a wisp of a man of fifty, held the helm. He was
+for all the world like a Malay pirate; I have seen his double
+steering a proa off the Borneo coast, slim, high-cheeked, with a
+sashful of saw-like knives. Ugh! had no weapon, but his eye was a
+small flaming coal that made me thankful cannibalism is a thing of
+the past. He had been carried through the surf to his perch upon the
+stern because one of his legs was useless for walking, but once he
+grasped the tiller, he was a seaman of skill.</p>
+
+<p>The oarsmen wore turbans of pink, blue, and white muslin to protect
+their heads from the straight rays of the white sun. Bright-colored
+<i>pareus</i> were about their loins, and several wore elastic
+sleeve-holders as ornaments on tawny arms and legs, while one, the
+son of Ugh! sported earrings, great hoops of gold that flashed in
+the sunshine. With their dark skins, gleaming eyes, and white teeth,
+they were a brilliant picture against the dazzling blue of the sea.
+Straight across the channel we steered for Hana Hevane, a little bay
+and valley guarded by sunken coral rocks over which the water foamed
+in white warning. Two of the men leaped out into the waves and hunted
+on these rocks for squids, while we beached the boat on a shore
+uninhabited by any living creature but rats, lizards, and centipedes.
+Several small octopi were soon brought in, and one of the men placed
+them on some boulders where the tide had left pools of water, and
+cleaned them of their poison. He rubbed them on the stone exactly as
+a washerwoman handles a flannel garment, and out of them came a
+lather as though he had soaped them. Suds, bubbles, and froth&mdash;one
+would have said a laundress had been at work there. He dipped them
+often in a pool of salt water, and not until they would yield no
+more suds did he give each a final rinsing and throw it on the fire
+made on the beach. Suddenly a shout broke my absorption in this task.
+The son of Ugh! with the gold earrings, waving his arms from amidst
+the surf on the reef, called to me to come and see a big <i>feke</i>. As
+his companions were dancing about and yelling madly, I left the
+laundrying of the small sea-devils and splashed two hundred yards
+through the lagoon to the scene of excitement. Four of the crew had
+attacked a giant devil-fish, which was hidden in a cave in the rocks.
+From the gloom it darted out its long arms and tried to seize the
+strange creatures that menaced it. The naked boatsmen, dancing just
+out of reach of the writhing tentacles, struck at them with long
+knives. As they cut off pieces of the curling, groping gristle, I
+thought I heard a horrible groan from the cave, almost like the
+voice of a human in agony. I stayed six feet away, for I had no
+knife and no relish for the game.</p>
+
+<p>Four of the long arms had been severed at the ends when suddenly the
+octopus came out of his den to fight for his life. He was a
+reddish-purple globe of horrid flesh, horned all over, with a head
+not unlike an elephant's, but with large, demoniacal eyes, bitter,
+hating eyes that roved from one to another of us as if selecting his
+prey. Eight arms, some shorn of their suckers, stretched out ten
+feet toward us.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesans retreated precipitately, and I led them, laughing
+nervously, but not joyously. The son of Ugh! stopped first.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ta! Ta! Ta! Ta!</i>&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Are we afraid of that ugly beast? I
+have killed many. <i>Pakeka!</i> We will eat him, too!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He turned with the others and advanced toward the <i>feke</i>, shouting
+scornful names at him, threatening him with death and being eaten,
+warning him that the sooner he gave up, the quicker ended his agony.
+But the devilfish was not afraid. His courage shamed mine. I was
+behind the barrier of the boatsmen, but once in the throes of the
+fight a slimy arm passed between two of them and wound itself around
+my leg. I screamed out, for it was icy cold and sent a sickening
+weakness all through me, so that I could not have swum a dozen feet
+with it upon me. One of the natives cut it off, and still it clung to
+my bloodless skin until I plucked it away.</p>
+
+<p>The son of Ugh! had two of the great arms about him at one time, but
+his companions hacked at them until he was free. Then, regardless of
+the struggles of the maimed devil, they closed in on him and stabbed
+his head and body until he died. During these last moments I was
+amazed and sickened to hear the octopus growling and moaning in its
+fury and suffering. His voice had a curious timbre. I once heard a
+man dying of hydrophobia make such sounds, half animal, half human.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That <i>feke</i> would have killed and eaten any one of us,&rdquo; said the
+son of Ugh! &ldquo;Not many are so big as he, but here in Hana Hevane,
+where seldom any one fished, they are the biggest in the world. They
+lie in these holes in the rocks and catch fish and crabs as they swim
+by. My cousin was taken by one while fishing, and was dragged down
+into the hidden caverns. He was last seen standing on a ledge, and
+the next day his bones were found picked clean. A shark is easier to
+fight than such a devil who has so many arms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boatsmen gathered up the remnants of the foe and brought them to
+the beach, where the elder Ugh! was tending the fire. Crabs were
+broiling upon it, and the pieces of the <i>feke</i> were flung beside
+them and the smaller octopi.</p>
+
+<p>When they were cooked, a trough of <i>popoi</i> and one of <i>feikai</i>, or
+roasted breadfruit mixed with a cocoanut-milk sauce, were placed on
+the sand, and all squatted to dine. For a quarter of an hour the
+only sounds were the plup of fingers withdrawn from mouths filled
+with <i>popoi</i>, and the faint creaming of waves on the beach.
+Marquesans feel that eating is serious business. The devil-fish and
+crabs were the delicacies, and served as dessert. Blackened by the
+fire, squid and crustacean were eaten without condiment, the
+tentacles being devoured as one eats celery. I was soon satisfied,
+and while they lingered over their food and smoked I strolled up the
+valley a little way, still feeling the pressure of that severed arm.</p>
+
+<p>Hana Hevane had its people one time. They vanished as from a hundred
+other valleys, before the march of progress. The kindly green of the
+jungle had hidden the marks of human habitations, where once they had
+lived and loved and died.</p>
+
+<p>Only the bones of <i>La Corse</i>, the schooner Jerome Capriata had
+sailed many years, lay rotting under a grotesque and dark banian,
+never more to feel the foot of man upon the deck or to toss upon the
+sea. A consoling wave lapped the empty pintles and gave the decaying
+craft a caress by the element whose mistress she so long had been.
+Her mast was still stepped, but a hundred centipedes crawled over
+the hull.</p>
+
+<p>When I returned to the fire, the boatmen were talking. Ugh! Dried-up
+Stream! his stomach full and smoke in his mouth, bethought himself
+of a tale, an incident of this very spot. In a sardonic manner he
+began:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The men of this island, Tahuata, in the old days descended on
+Fatu-hiva to hunt the man-meat. After the battle, they brought their
+captives to Hana Hevane to rest, to build a fire and to eat one of
+their catch. This they did, and departed again. But when they were in
+their canoes, they found they had forgotten a girl whom they had
+thrown on the sand, and they returned for her. The sea was rough,
+and they had to stay here on the beach for the night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As was the custom, they erected a gibbet, two posts and a
+horizontal bar, and on the bar they hung the living prisoners, with
+a cord of <i>parau</i> bark passed through the scalp and tied around the
+hair. Their arms were tied behind them, and they swung in the breeze.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the night, when the Tahuata men slept from their gluttony, one
+of them arose silently and unbound a prisoner who was his friend,
+and told him to run to the mountains. He then lay down and slept,
+and in the darkness this man who had been freed returned stealthily
+in the darkness, and unloosed a girl, the same who had been
+forgotten on the sand. In the morning the other captives were dead,
+but those who escaped were months in the fastness of the heights,
+living on roots and on birds they snared. In the end they went to
+Motopu. They were well received, for the Tahuata warriors thought a
+god had aided them, and they and their children lived long there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ugh! smiled reminiscently as if his thoughts were returning from
+pleasant things, and clapped his hands as a signal for reembarking.</p>
+
+<p>The bowls of food remaining were tied in baskets of leaves and hung
+in the banian tree to await the boatsmen's return for the night,
+the steersman was carried to his place, and the boat pushed through
+the surf.</p>
+
+<p>A gaunt shark swam close to the reefs as we rowed out, a hungry,
+ill-looking monster. One of the bottles of rum the oarsmen had drunk
+on the way to Hana Hevane, the other was stored for their return,
+and to gain a third the son of Ugh! offered to go overboard and tie
+a rope to the shark's tail, which is the way natives often catch them.
+A shark was not worth a liter of rum, I said, being in no mind to
+risk the limbs of a man in such a sport. Besides, I had no more to
+give away. I could imagine the rage of Seventh Man Who Wallows
+should he learn of my wasting in such foolishness what would keep us
+both warm if it rained.</p>
+
+<p>As we caught the wind a flock of <i>koio</i> came close to us in their
+search for fish. The black birds were like a cloud; there must have
+been fifty thousand of them, and flying over us they completely cut
+off the sunlight, like a dark storm. If they had taken a fancy to
+settle on us they must have smothered us under a feathered avalanche.
+Ugh! was startled and amazed that the birds should come so close,
+and all raised an uproar of voices and waved arms and oars in the air,
+to frighten them off. They passed, the sun shone upon us again, and
+in a sparkling sea we made our way past Iva Iva Iti and Iva Iva Nui,
+rounding a high green shore into the bay of Vait-hua.</p>
+
+<p>The mountains above the valley loomed like castellated summits of
+Italy, so like huge stone fortresses that one might mistake them for
+such from the sea. The tiny settlement reaching from the beach half
+a mile up the glen was screened by its many trees.</p>
+
+<p>The whaleboat slid up to a rocky ledge, and my luggage and I were
+put ashore. Exploding Eggs, who had insisted on accompanying me,
+took it into his charge, and with it balanced on his shoulders we
+sauntered along the road to the village where the French gendarme had
+lost his nose to the mad <i>namu</i>-drinker.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Idyllic valley of Vait-hua; the beauty of Vanquished Often; bathing
+on the beach; an unexpected proposal of marriage.</i></p>
+
+<p>The beach followed the semi-circle of the small bay, and was hemmed
+in on both sides by massive black rocks, above which rose steep
+mountains covered with verdure. The narrow valley itself sloped
+upward on either hand to a sheer wall of cliffs. In the couple of
+miles from the water's edge to the jungle tangle of the high hills
+were thousands upon thousands of cocoanut-palms, breadfruit-, mango-,
+banana-, and lime-trees, all speaking of the throng of people that
+formerly inhabited this lovely spot, now so deserted. The tiny
+settlement remaining, with its scattered few habitations, was
+beautiful beyond comparison. A score or so of houses, small, but
+neat and comfortable, wreathed with morning-glory vines and shaded
+by trees, clustered along the bank of a limpid stream crossed at
+intervals by white stepping-stones. Naked children, whose heads were
+wreathed with flowers, splashed in sheltered pools, or fled like
+moving brown shadows into the sun-flecked depths of the glade as we
+approached.</p>
+
+<p>We were met beneath a giant banian-tree by the chief, who greeted us
+with simple dignity and led us at once to his house. The most
+pretentious in the village, it consisted of two rooms, built of
+redwood boards from California, white-washed, clean, and bare,
+opening through wide doors upon the broad <i>paepae</i>. This house, the
+chief insisted, was to be my home while I remained his guest in
+Vait-hua. My polite protestations he waved away with a courtly
+gesture and an obdurate smile. I was an American, and his guest.</p>
+
+<p>My visit was obviously a great event in the eyes of Mrs. Seventh Man
+Who Is So Angry He Wallows In The Mire. A laughing Juno of thirty
+years, large and rounded as a breadfruit-tree, more than six feet in
+height, with a mass of blue-black hair and teeth that flashed white
+as a fresh-opened cocoanut, she rose from her mat on the <i>paepae</i>
+and rubbed my nose ceremoniously with hers. Clothed in a necklace of
+false pearls and a brilliantly scarlet loincloth, she was truly a
+barbaric figure, yet in her eye I beheld that instant preoccupation
+with household matters that greets the unexpected guest the world
+over.</p>
+
+<p>While the chief and I reclined upon mats and Exploding Eggs sat
+vigilant at my side, she vanished into the house, and shortly
+returned to set before us a bowl of <i>popoi</i> and several cocoanuts.
+These we ate while Neo discoursed sadly upon the evil times that had
+befallen his reign.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Me very busy when prenty ship come,&rdquo; he mourned. &ldquo;Me fix for wood;
+get seven dollar load. Me fix for girl for captain and mate. Me stay
+ship, eat hard-tackee, salt horsee, chew tobacco, drink rum. Good
+time he all dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The repast ended, we set out to view the depleted village with its
+few inhabitants, the remainder after Europe had subtracted native
+habits and native health.</p>
+
+<p>The gorge that parted the valley was wide and deep for the silver
+stream that sang its way to the bay. When the rain fell in cascades
+the channel hardly contained the mad torrent that raced from the
+heights, a torrent that had destroyed the road built years before
+when whaler's ships by the dozens came each year. Now the natives
+made their way as of old, up and down rocky trails and over the
+stepping-stones.</p>
+
+<p>Near the beach we came upon a group of tumbledown shanties, remnants
+of the seat of government. Only a thatched schoolhouse and a tiny
+cabin for the teacher were habitable. Here the single artist of the
+islands, Monsieur Charles Le Moine, had taught the three &ldquo;R's&rdquo; to
+Vait-hua's adolescents for years. He was away now, Neo said, but we
+found his cabin open and littered with canvases, sketches,
+paint-tubes, and worn household articles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He got litt'ee broomee, an' sweep paint out litt'ee pipe on thing
+make ship's sails,&rdquo; Neo explained. Surely a description of a broad
+modern style.</p>
+
+<p>On the wall or leaning against it on the floor were a dozen drawings
+and oils of a young girl of startling beauty. Laughing, clear-eyed,
+she seemed almost to speak from the canvas, filling the room with
+charm. Here she leaned against a palm-trunk, her bare brown body
+warm against its gray; there she stood on a white beach, a crimson
+<i>pareu</i> about her loins and hibiscus flowers in her hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That Hinatini,&rdquo; said Seventh Man Who Wallows, speaking always in
+what he supposed to be English. &ldquo;She some pumkin, eh? Le Moine like
+more better make <i>tiki</i> like this than say book. She my niece.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The rich colors of the pictures sang like bugle-notes among the
+shabby odds and ends of the studio. A cot, a broken chair or two, a
+table smeared with paints, an old shoe, a pipe, and a sketch of the
+Seine, gave me La Moine in his European birthright, but the absence
+of any European comforts, the lack even of dishes and a lamp, told
+me that Montmartre would not know him again. The eyes of the girl
+who lived on the canvases said that Le Moine was claimed by the Land
+of the War Fleet.</p>
+
+<p>Turning from the dingy interior of his cabin, I saw in the sunlight
+beyond the door his model in the life. Le Moine had not the brush to
+do her justice. Vanquished Often, as Hinatini means, was perhaps
+thirteen years old, with a grace of carriage, a beauty and perfection
+of features, a rich coloring no canvas could depict. Her skin was of
+warm olive hue, with tinges of red in the cheeks and the lips
+cherry-ripe. Her eyes were dark brown, large, melting, childishly
+introspective. Her hands were shapely, and her little bare feet,
+arched, rosy-nailed, were like flowers on the sand. She wore the
+thinnest of sheer white cotton tunics, and there were flamboyant
+flowers in the shining dark hair that tumbled to her waist.</p>
+
+<p>She greeted me with the eager artlessness of the child that she was.
+She was on her way to the <i>vai puna</i>, the spring by the beach, she
+said. Would I accompany her thither? And would I tell her of the
+women of my people in the strange islands of the <i>Memke?</i> They were
+very far away, were they not, those islands? Farther even than Tahiti?
+How deep beneath the sea could their women dive?</p>
+
+<p>I answered these, and other questions, while we walked down the beach,
+and I marveled at the unconscious grace of her movements. The chief
+wonder of all these Marquesans is the beauty and erectness of their
+standing and walking postures. Their chests are broad and deep,
+their bosoms, even in girls of Vanquished Often's age, rounded,
+superb, and their limbs have an ease of motion, an animal-like
+litheness unknown to our clothed and dress-bound women.</p>
+
+<p>Vanquished Often was the most perfect type of all these physical
+perfections, a survival of those wondrous Marquesan women who addled
+the wits of the whites a century ago. There was no blemish on her,
+nor any feature one would alter.</p>
+
+<p>Half a dozen of her comrades were lounging upon the sand when we
+reached the <i>via puna</i>. Here an iron pipe in the mountain-side
+tapped subterranean waters, and a hollowed cocoanut-tree gave them
+exit upon the sand where salt waves flowed up to meet them. Long
+lean curving cocoanuts arched above, and beneath their ribbons of
+shade lay an old canoe, upon which sat those who waited their turn
+to bathe, to fill calabashes, or merely to gossip.</p>
+
+<p>For all time, they said, this had been the center of life in Vait-hua.
+Old wives' tales had been told here for generations. The whalers
+filled their casks at this spring, working every hour of the
+twenty-four because the flow was small. Famous harpooners, steersmen
+who winked no eye when the wounded whale drew their boat through a
+smother of foam, shanghaied gentlemen, sweepings of harbors,
+Nantucket deacons, pirates, and the whole breed of sailors and
+fighting fellows, congregated here to bathe and to fill their
+water-casks. Near this crystal rivulet they slashed each other in
+their quarrels over Vait-hua's fairest, and exchanged their
+slop-chest luxuries and grog for the favors of the island chiefs.</p>
+
+<p>It was Standard Oil, sending around the world its <i>tipoti</i>, or tin
+cans, filled with illuminating fluid cheaper than that of the whale,
+that ended the days of the ships in Vait-hua, and they sailed away
+for the last time, leaving an island so depopulated that its few
+remaining people could slip back into the life of the days before the
+whites came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Alice Snow</i> las' whaleship come Vait-hua six years before,&rdquo; said
+the Seventh Man Who Wallows. &ldquo;Before that, one ship, <i>California</i>
+name, Captain Andrew Hicks. Charlie, he sailmaker, run away from
+Andrew Hicks. One Vait-hua girl look good to him. She hide him in
+hills till captain make finish chase him. That him children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, most of the faces turned toward me from the group about the
+spring were European, either by recent heredity or tribal nature. I
+could see the Saxon, the Latin, and the Viking, and one girl was all
+Japanese, a reference to which caused her to weep. &ldquo;Iapona&rdquo; was to
+her pretty ears the meanest word in Vait-hua's vocabulary, and her
+playmates held it in reserve for important disagreements.</p>
+
+<p>Vanquished Often, slipping from her white tunic, stepped beneath the
+stream of crystal water and laughed at the cool delight of it on her
+smooth skin. It was a picture of which artist's dream, the naked
+girl laughing in the torrents of transparent water, the wet crimson
+blossoms washing from her drowned hair, and beneath the striped
+shade of the palm-trunks her simple, savage companions waiting their
+turn, squatting on the sand or crowded on the canoe, their loins
+wrapped in crimson and blue and yellow <i>pareus</i>. Behind them all the
+mountains rose steeply, a mass of brilliant green jungle growth, and
+before them, across the rim of shining white sand, spread the wide
+blue sea.</p>
+
+<p>Courtesy suggested that I should be next to feel the refreshing
+torrent. We let slip the garment of timorous covering very easily
+when nudity is commonplace. Vait-hua was to teach me to be modest
+without pother, to chat with those about me during my ablutions
+without concern for the false vanities of screens or even the
+shelter of rocks as in the river in Atuona. In such scenes one
+perceives that immodesty is in the false shame that makes one cling
+to clothes, rather than in the simple virtues that walk naked and
+unashamed.</p>
+
+<p>Tacitus recites that chastity was a controlling virtue among the
+Teutons, ranking among women as bravery among men, yet all Teutons
+bathed in the streams together. In Japan both sexes bathe in public
+in natural hot pools, and that without diffidence. The Japanese,
+though a people of many clothes, regard nudity with indifference,
+but use garments to conceal the contour of the human form, while we
+are horrified by nakedness and yet use dress to enhance the form,
+especially to emphasize the difference between sexes. Our women's
+accentuated hips and waistlines shock the Japanese, whose loose
+clothing is the same for men and women, the broader belt and double
+fold upon the small of the back, the obi, being the only
+differentiation.</p>
+
+<p>Mohammedan women surprised in bathing cover their faces first; the
+Chinese, the feet. Good Erasmus, that Dutch theologian, said that
+&ldquo;angels abhor nakedness.&rdquo; Devout Europeans of his day never saw their
+own bodies; if they bathed, they wore a garment covering them from
+head to feet. Thus standards of clothing vary from age to age and
+from country to country.</p>
+
+<p>Missionaries bewilder the savage mind by imposing their own
+standards of the moment and calling them modesty. The African negro,
+struggling to harmonize these two ideas, wore a tall silk hat and a
+pair of slippers as his only garments when he obeyed Livingstone's
+exhortations to clothe himself in the presence of white women.</p>
+
+<p>Vait-hua was all savage; whatever bewilderments the missionaries had
+brought had faded when dwindling population left the isle to its own
+people. In the minds of my happy companions at the <i>vai puna</i>,
+modesty had no more to do with clothing than, among us, it had to do
+with food. The standards of the individual are everywhere formed by
+the mass-opinion of those about him; I came from my bath, replaced
+my garments, and felt myself Marquesan.</p>
+
+<p>The sensation was false. Savage peoples can never understand our
+philosophy, our complex springs of action. They may ape our manners,
+wear our ornaments, and seek our company, but their souls remain
+indifferent. They laugh when we are stolid. They weep when we are
+unmoved. Their gods and devils are not ours.</p>
+
+<p>From our side, too, the abyss is impassable. Civilization with its
+refinements and complexities has stripped us of the power of
+complete surrender to simple impulses. The white who would become
+like a natural savage succeeds only in becoming a beast. &ldquo;<i>Plus
+sauvage que les kanakas</i>,&rdquo; is a proverb in the islands. Its
+implications I had occasion to heed ere the evening was ended.</p>
+
+<p>Wrapped only in a gorgeous red <i>pareu</i>, I sat on the <i>paepae</i> of the
+chief's house, now become mine. I was the especial care of Mrs. Seventh
+Man Who Wallows, who all afternoon long had sat on her haunches over
+a cocoanut husk fire stirring savory foods for me. Fish, chickens,
+pigs, eggs, and native delicacies of all kinds she had cooked and
+sauced so appetizingly that I conferred on her the title of &ldquo;Chefess&rdquo;
+<i>de Cuisine</i>, and voiced my suspicions that some deserting cook
+from a flagship had traded his lore for her kisses. Her laughter was
+spiced with pride, and the chief himself smilingly nodded and gestured
+to assure me that I had guessed right.</p>
+
+<p>Now in the quiet of the evening, empty bowls removed, pandanus-leaf
+cigarettes lighted, and pipe passing from hand to hand, we sat
+rejoicing in the sweet odors of the forest, the murmur of the stream,
+and the ease of contentment. Many elders of the village had come to
+meet the stranger, to discuss the world and its wonders, and to
+marvel at the ways of the whites. The glow of the pipe lighted
+shriveled yet still handsome countenances scrolled with tattooing,
+and caught gleams from rolling eyes or sparkles from necklace and
+earring. Above the mountains a full moon rose, flooding the valley
+with light and fading the brilliant colors of leaf and flower to
+pale pastel tints.</p>
+
+<p>Vanquished Often sat beside me, her dark hair falling over my knee,
+and listened respectfully to the conversation of her elders, who
+discussed the gods of the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>They wondered what curious motive had impelled the Jews, the
+<i>Aati-Ietu</i>, to kill <i>Ieto Kirito</i> the Savior of the world.
+They discussed the strange madness that had possessed <i>Iuda
+Iskalota</i>, that he had first bought land with his forty pieces of
+silver and then hanged himself to a <i>purau</i> tree. Was it cocoanut
+land? they asked. Was it not good land?</p>
+
+<p>Often across the worn stones of the <i>paepae</i> stole a <i>vei</i>, a
+centipede, upon which a bare foot quickly stamped. The chief said
+casually, &ldquo;If he bite you, you no die; you have hell of a time.&rdquo;
+They were not natives of the Marquesas originally, he said; they
+came in the coal of ships. His patriotism outran his knowledge, for
+the first discoverers bitterly berated these poisonous creatures,
+though no more warmly than Neo, who drew heavily upon his stock of
+English curses to tell his opinion of them.</p>
+
+<p>When the time came for saying <i>apae kaoha</i> my kindly hosts sought to
+confer upon me the last proof of their friendliness. They proposed
+that I marry Vanquished Often.</p>
+
+<p>My refusal was incomprehensible to them, and Vanquished Often's
+happy smile in the moonlight quickly faded to a look of pain and
+humiliation. They had offered me their highest and most revered
+expression of hospitality. To refuse it was as uncustomary and as
+rude as to refuse the Alaskan miner who offers a drink at a public
+bar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Menike</i>,&rdquo; pleaded the chief, &ldquo;that Hinatini more better marry
+white man, friend of Teddy, from number one island. She some punkins
+for be good wife. Suppose may be you like Vait-hua you stay long time;
+suppose you go soon, make never mind!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The fair chieftess shook her earrings and smiled archly. &ldquo;Bonne
+filly pooh voo, Menike,&rdquo; she urged in her Marquesan French.
+&ldquo;Good wife for you. It is my pleasure that you are happy. She is
+beautiful and good. You will be the son of our people while you are
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Vanquished Often, who had a vague notion of the greatness of her
+uncle's Menike friends, Teddy and Gotali, and of the desirability of
+an alliance with one of their tribe, approached me softly and rubbed
+my back in a circle the while she crooned a broken song of the
+whaling days, concerning the &ldquo;rolling Mississippi&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Black
+Ball line.&rdquo; Seventh Man Who Wallows in the Mire himself began to
+make concentric circles on my breast with his heavy hand, so that I
+was beset fore and aft by the most tender and friendly advances of
+the Marquesan race. Never was hapless guest in more unfortunate
+plight.</p>
+
+<p>She was but a child, I said; Americans did not mate with children.
+They smiled as at a pleasantry, and again extolled her charms.
+Desperately I harked back to the ten commandments in an endeavor to
+support my refusal by other reasons than distaste or discourtesy,
+but laughter met my text. &ldquo;White man does not follow white man's
+<i>tapus</i>,&rdquo; said my hostess, gently placing my hand in that of
+Vanquished Often. The slender fingers clung timorously to mine.
+Unhappy Hinatini feared that she was about to be disgraced before her
+people by the white man's scorn of her beauty.</p>
+
+<p>I was fain to invent a romance upon the spot. I was madly enamoured
+of an Atuona belle, I said. She waited for me upon my own <i>paepae</i>;
+she was a mighty woman and swift to anger. She would wreak vengeance
+upon me, and upon Vanquished Often. I would adopt Vanquished Often
+as my sister. In token of this I pressed my lips upon her forehead
+and kissed her hands. She smiled bewitchingly, pleased by the novel
+honor.</p>
+
+<p>My hosts and their friends departed with her, half pleased, half
+puzzled at this latest whimsy of the strange white, and I lay down
+upon the mats of the chief's house, with Exploding Eggs lying across
+the doorway at my feet.</p>
+
+<p>The night brought fitful dreams, and in the darkest hour I woke to
+feel a frightening thing upon my leg. By the light of the dimly
+burning lantern I saw a thousand-leg, reddish brown and ten inches
+long, halting perhaps for breath midway between my knee and waist.
+It seemed indeed to have a thousand legs, and each separate foot
+made impresses of terror on my mind, while each toe and claw
+clutched my bare flesh with threatening touch.</p>
+
+<p>The brave man of the tale who saves himself from cobra or rattler by
+letting the serpent crawl its slow way over his perfectly controlled
+body might have withheld even a quiver of the flesh, but I am no
+Spartan. At my convulsive shudder each horrid claw gripped a
+death-hold. In one swift motion I seized a corkscrew that lay nearby,
+pried loose with a quick jerk every single pede and threw the odious
+thing a dozen yards. A trail of red, inflamed spots rose where it
+had stood and remained painful and swollen for days.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr15"></a>
+<a href="images/img15.jpg"><img src="images/thumb15.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Idling away the sunny hours</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr16"></a>
+<a href="images/img16.jpg"><img src="images/thumb16.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Nothing to do but rest all day</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Whether it was because this experience became mixed with my first
+dreams in beautiful Vait-hua, or whether my Celtic blood sees
+portents where they do not exist, certain it is that as the stealthy
+charm of that idyllic place grew upon me through the days something
+within me resisted it. I was ever aware that its beauty concealed a
+menace deadly to the white man who listened too long to the rustle
+of its palms and the murmur of its stream.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Communal life; sport in the waves; fight of the sharks and the mother
+whale; a day in the mountains; death of Le Capitaine Halley; return
+to Atuona.</i></p>
+
+<p>Life in Vait-hua was idyllic. The whites, having desolated and
+depopulated this once thronged valley, had gone, leaving the remnant
+of its people to return to their native virtue and quietude. Here,
+perhaps more than in any other spot in all the isles, the Marquesan
+lived as his forefathers had before the whites came.</p>
+
+<p>Doing nothing sweetly was an art in Vait-hua. Pleasure is nature's
+sign of approval. When man is happy, he is in harmony with himself
+and his environment. The people of this quiet valley did not crave
+excitement. The bustle and nervous energy of the white wearied them
+excessively. Time was never wasted, to their minds, for leisure was
+the measure of its value.</p>
+
+<p>Domestic details, the preparation of food, the care of children, the
+nursing of the sick, were the tasks of all the household. Husband
+and wife, or the mates unmarried, labored together in delightful
+unity. Often the woman accompanied her man into the forests,
+assisting in the gathering of nuts and breadfruit, in the fishing
+and the building. When these duties did not occupy them, or when
+they were not together bathing in the river or at the <i>via puna</i>,
+they sat side by side on their <i>paepaes</i> in meditation. They might
+discuss the events of the day, they might receive the visits of
+others, or go abroad for conversation; but for hours they often were
+wrapped in their thoughts, in a silence broken only by the rolling
+of their pandanus cigarettes or the lighting of the mutual pipe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of what are you thinking?&rdquo; I said often to my neighbors when
+breaking in upon their meditation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of the world. Of those stars,&rdquo; they replied.</p>
+
+<p>They would sympathize with that Chinese traveler who, visiting
+America and being hurried from carriage to train, smiled at our idea
+of catching the fleeting moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We save ten minutes by catching this train,&rdquo; said his guide,
+enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what will you do with that ten minutes?&rdquo; demanded the Chinese.</p>
+
+<p>To be busy about anything not necessary to living is, in Marquesan
+wisdom, to be idle.</p>
+
+<p>Swimming in the surf, lolling at the <i>via puna</i>, angling from rock
+or canoe or fishing with line and spear outside the bay, searching
+for shell-fish, and riding or walking over the hills to other valleys,
+filled their peaceful, pleasant days. A dream-like, care-free life,
+lived by a people sweet to know, handsome and generous and loving.</p>
+
+<p>That he never saw or heard of the slightest quarrel between
+individuals was the statement a century ago of Captain Porter, the
+American. Then as now the most perfect harmony prevailed among them.
+They lived like affectionate brothers of one family, he said, the
+authority of the chiefs being only that of fathers among children.
+They had no mode of punishment for there were no offenders. Theft
+was unknown, and all property was left unguarded. So Porter, who,
+with his ship's company, killed so many Marquesans, was fully aware
+of their civic virtues, their kindness, gentleness and generosity.</p>
+
+<p>It is so to-day, in Vait-hua where the whites are not. I have had my
+trousers lifted from my second-story room in a Manila hotel by the
+eyed and fingered bamboo of the Tagalog <i>ladron</i>, while I washed my
+face, and stood aghast at the mystery of their disappearance with
+door locked, until looking from my lofty window I beheld them moving
+rapidly down an <i>estero</i> in a <i>banca</i>. I have given over my watch to
+a gendarme in Cairo to forfend arrest for having beaten an Arab who
+tripped me to pick my pocket, and I have surrendered to the rapacity
+of a major-general-uniformed official in Italy, who would
+incarcerate me for not having a tail-light lit. In San Francisco,
+when robbed upon the public street, I have listened while the police
+suggested that I offer a fee to the &ldquo;king of the dips&rdquo; and a reward
+to certain saloonkeepers to intercede with the unknown-to-me
+highwaymen for the return of an heirloom.</p>
+
+<p>Yet through the darkest nights in Vait-hua I slept serenely,
+surrounded by all the possessions so desirable in the eyes of my
+neighbors, in a house the doors of which were never fastened. There
+was not a lock in all the village, or anything that answered the
+purpose of one. The people of this isolated valley, forgetting their
+brief encounter with the European idea of money and of the
+accumulation of property, had reverted to the ways of their fathers.</p>
+
+<p>Before interference with their natural customs the Marquesans were
+communists to a large degree. Their only private property consisted
+of houses, weapons, ornaments, and clothing, for the personal use of
+the owner himself. All large works, such as the erection of houses,
+the building of large canoes, and, in ancient days, the raising of
+<i>paepaes</i> and temples, were done by mutual cooperation; though
+each family provided its own food and made provision for the future
+by storing breadfruit in the <i>popoi</i> pits. Neo, like the long line
+of chiefs before him, had gathered a little more of the good things
+of life than had the majority, but he was in no sense a dictator,
+except as personality won obedience. In the old days a chief was
+often relegated to the ranks for failure in war, and always for an
+overbearing attitude toward the commoners. Such arrogant fellows
+were kicked out of the seat of power unceremoniously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our pure republican policy approaches so near their own,&rdquo; said the
+American naval captain, Porter, a hundred years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Men were honored for their artistry, highest place being given to
+the tattooers, the carvers, the designers, and builders of canoes,
+the architects, doctors, and warriors. Men and women rose to
+influence and chiefly rank only by deeds that won popular admiration.
+These people were hero-worshippers, and in the bloodiest of the old
+days those of fine soul who had a message of entertainment or
+instruction were <i>tapu</i> to all tribes, so that they could travel
+anywhere in safety and were welcome guests in all homes.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that in Hawaii and Tonga conquerors made themselves kings,
+but not there or in Samoa, Tahiti, or the Marquesas were kings
+supreme rulers until the whites established them for their own trade
+purposes and sold them firearms by which to maintain their power.</p>
+
+<p>That day of the whites had passed in Vait-hua. The chief now
+maintained his authority by the fondness of his people alone.
+Generous he was, and gentle, yet I minded that he had bitten off the
+nose of Severin, the French gendarme, when the <i>namu</i> had made him
+mad. Now whether guided by pride in his discipline or by memory of
+evil-doing repented, he was strict in his enforcement of the
+prohibition of cocoanut toddy, and sobriety made the days and nights
+peaceful.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the mornings I called &ldquo;Kaoha!&rdquo; from my <i>paepae</i> to
+Mrs. Seventh Man, who came each day from her bath in the <i>via
+puna</i> attired in her earrings only.</p>
+
+<p>Sauntering along the bank of the brook still dripping from the spring,
+her wet black hair clinging to her shapely back and her tawny skin
+glistening in flickering light and shade, she was for all the world
+my conception of Mother Eve before even leaves were modesty. Her
+nudity was a custom only at this time, for when she reappeared to
+aid Exploding Eggs in preparing my breakfast she always wore a
+scarlet <i>pareu</i> and her hair was done like Bernhardt's.</p>
+
+<p>Vanquished Often appeared with her aunt, carefully dressed in
+spotless, diaphanous tunic, fresh flowers in her hair, a treasured
+pink silk garter clasping her rounded arm. &ldquo;Big White Brother,&rdquo; she
+called me with pride, though often I saw a sad wonder in her great
+eyes as she squatted near, silently watching me. Her possessive ways
+were pretty to see as she walked close by my side on the trail from
+my cabin to the beach, while Exploding Eggs regarded her jealously,
+insisting on his prerogative as <i>Tueni Oki Kiki</i>, Keeper of the
+Golden Bed, the glittering magnificence of which he described
+minutely to her.</p>
+
+<p>We arrived at a merry scene upon the beach. Women and children were
+in the surf, or on rocks under the cliffs, fishing for <i>popo</i>, the
+young of <i>uua</i>. With bamboo poles twenty feet long and lines of even
+greater length, we stood up to our necks in the sea and threw out
+the hook baited with a morsel of shrimp. The breakers tumbled us
+about, the lines became tangled, amid gales of laughter and a medley
+of joyous shouts. Tiring of fishing, Vanquished Often and I would
+breast the creaming waves side by side, to turn far out and dash in
+on the breakers, overturning all but the wary. Or a group of us,
+climbing high on the cliffs, would fling ourselves again and again
+into the sea, turning in mid-air, life and delight quickening every
+muscle.</p>
+
+<p>Wearying of this sport, we embarked in canoes, fishing or sailing,
+and many small adventures we had, for the younger and more daring
+spirits delighted in scaring me into expostulation or the silence of
+the condemned and then saving my life by a hair's-breadth.</p>
+
+<p>We had gone one morning about the southern cape, and were harpooning
+swordfish and the gigantic sunfish when a commotion a thousand feet
+away brought shouts of warning from my companions. We saw two whales,
+one with a baby at her breast. The other we took to be the father
+whale. Huge black beasts they were. Upon this mated pair a band of
+sharks had flung themselves to seize the infant.</p>
+
+<p>There were at least twenty-five sharks in the mad mob, great white
+monsters thirty feet in length, man-eaters by blood-taste, tigers in
+disposition. Though they could not compare with their prey in size
+or power, they had heads as large as barrels, and mouths that would
+drag a man through their terrible gaps. That their hunger was past
+all bounds was evident, for the whale is not often attacked by such
+inferior-sized fish. Storms had raged on the sea for days, and maybe
+had cheated the sharks of their usual food.</p>
+
+<p>They swam around and around the mountainous pair, darting in and out,
+evidently with some plan of drawing off the male. Both the whales
+struck out incessantly with their mammoth flukes; their great tails,
+crashing upon the sea-surface, lashed it to mountains of foam. Our
+boats tossed as in a gale.</p>
+
+<p>Carried away by the pity and terror of the scene, we shouted threats
+and curses at the monsters, calling down on them in Marquesan the
+wrath of the sea-gods. Frenziedly handling tiller and sails, we
+circled the battle, impotent to aid the poor woman-beast and her baby.
+The sharks harried them as hounds a fox. Desperately the parents
+fought, more than one shark sank wounded to the depths and one,
+turning its white belly to the sun, floated dead upon the waves.
+Another was flung high in air by a blow of the mother's tail. But it
+was an uneven contest. At last we saw the nursling drawn from her
+breast, and the mother herself sank, still struggling. She may have
+risen, of course, far away, but she seemed disabled.</p>
+
+<p>We did not wait about that bloody spot when the sharks had fallen
+upon their prey, for our canoe was low in the water, and with such a
+sight to warn us, we did not doubt that the loathly monsters would
+attack us.</p>
+
+<p>From such a sight it was a relief to turn to the mountains. Along
+the steep trails I roamed far with Vanquished Often and Exploding
+Eggs. We played at being alone with nature, foregoing in living all
+that the white man had brought. I left the house of the chief naked
+save for a loin-cloth of native make, and I wore no shoes or hat.
+Vanquished Often and my valet were attired as I, and thus we shouted
+&ldquo;Kaoha!&rdquo; to the chieftess and started toward adventure.</p>
+
+<p>Seventh Man was dubious about my setting off without some prepared
+food, <i>popoi</i> or canned fish or biscuits, and without sleeping-mats.
+&ldquo;You ketchee hungery by an' soon,&rdquo; he protested. &ldquo;No got Gold Bed in
+mountains.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Vanquished Often laughed merrily, and the chief looked like a father
+whose child has thrown a stone at the bogie-man. I rubbed his nose
+with mine in farewell, and we began our journey, barehanded as Crusoe,
+yet more fortunate than he since we were in the best of company and
+I had the comforting knowledge that Marquesan youth would not go
+hungry or permit me to do so.</p>
+
+<p>Our way led up heights of marvelous beauty, along the edges of deep
+defiles that opened below our feet like valleys of Paradise. The
+candlenut, the <i>ama</i>, with its lilac bloom, the hibiscus and pandanus,
+green and glossy, the <i>petavii</i>, a kind of banana the curving fronds
+of which spread high in air, the snake-plant, <i>makomako</i>, a
+yellow-flowered shrub, and many others none of us could name,
+carpeted the farther mountain-sides with brilliant colors.
+Everywhere were cocoanuts, guavas, and mangos. In the tree-tops over
+our heads the bindweed shook its feathery seed-pods, the parasite
+<i>kouna</i> dripped its deeply serrated leaves and crimson umbels, and
+thousands of orchids hung like butterflies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is beautiful in your islands, is it not?&rdquo; Vanquished Often said
+wistfully. &ldquo;Tell us more of the marvels there! Are the girls of your
+valleys very lovely, and do they all sleep in golden beds?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All daughters of chiefs slept in golden beds, I told her. Often they
+wore golden slippers on their feet. When they wished to go over the
+mountains they did not walk, or ride on donkeys, but went in seats
+covered with velvet, a kind of cloth more soft than the silk ribbon
+of her pink garter-armlet, and these seats were drawn at incredible
+speed by a snorting thing made of iron, not living, but stronger
+than a hundred donkeys.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do they make that cloth?&rdquo; said Vanquished Often, eagerly. They
+did not make it, I explained. It was made for them by girls who were
+not daughters of chiefs, and therefore had no golden beds.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes clouded with bewilderment, but Exploding Eggs listened
+breathlessly, and demanded more tales. I told them of wireless
+telegraphy. This they believed as they believed the tales of magic
+told by old sorcerers, but they scoffed at my description of an
+elevator, perceiving that I was loosing the reins of my fancy and
+soaring to impossibilities.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The girls in your island must always be happy,&rdquo; said Vanquished
+Often, sighing. All daughters of chiefs were happy, I said.
+&ldquo;What is the manner of their fishing?&rdquo; asked Exploding Eggs.</p>
+
+<p>In such conversation we proceeded, walking for miles through a
+fairyland in which we were the only living creatures, save for the
+small scurrying things that slipped across the trail, and the
+bright-colored birds that fluttered through the tree-tops.</p>
+
+<p>At noon we paused for luncheon. Vanquished Often disappeared in the
+forest, to return shortly with her gathered-up tunic filled with
+mangos and guavas, four cocoanuts slung in a neatly plaited basket
+of leaves on her bare shoulders. Exploding Eggs, cutting two sticks
+of dry wood from the underbrush, whirled them upon each other with
+such speed and dexterity that soon a small fire, fed by shreds of
+cocoanut fiber, blazed on a rock, with plantains heaped about it to
+roast.</p>
+
+<p>While we rested after the feast Vanquished Often, squatted by my side,
+made for my comfort a wide-brimmed hat of thick leaves pinned
+together with thorns, a shelter from the sun's rays that was grateful
+to my tender scalp. Resuming our way, we met upon the trail a
+handsome small wild donkey, fearful of our kind, yet longing for
+company.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Pureekee!</i>&rdquo; said Exploding Eggs, meaning <i>bourrique</i>, the French
+for donkey. And Vanquished Often related that once hundreds of these
+beasts roamed through the jungle, descendants of a pair of asses
+escaped from a ship decades before, but that most of them had
+starved to death in dry periods, or been eaten by hungry natives.</p>
+
+<p>Farther on we passed acres of the sensitive plant, called by the
+Marquesans <i>teita hakaina</i>, the Modest Herb. A wide glade in a curve
+of the mountains was filled with a sea of it, and my companions
+delighted in dashing through its curiously nervous leafage, that
+shuddered and folded its feathery sprays together at their touch. If
+shocked further it opened its leaflets as if to say, &ldquo;What's the use?
+I'm shy, but I can't stay under cover forever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In such artless amusements the day passed, a day that remains
+forever an idyl of simple loveliness to me, such as any man is the
+richer for having known. When darkness overtook us, we made for
+ourselves the softest of ferny beds, and slept serenely, untroubled
+by anything, under the light of the stars.</p>
+
+<p>As we returned next day to the village in the valley, we found upon
+a hill far from the beach the tombs of the sailors who first raised
+the standard of France in these islands. The eternal jungle had so
+housed in their monuments that we had hot work to break through the
+jealous lantana and pandanus to see the stones. Neither Vanquished
+Often nor Exploding Eggs had ever cast eyes on them, and neither had
+but a legendary memory of how these men of the conquering race had
+met their death.</p>
+
+<p>A great slab of native basalt eroded by seventy years of sun and
+rain bore the barely discernible epitaph:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Ci Git<br>
+&emsp;Edouard Michel Halley<br>
+&emsp;&emsp;Capitaine de Corvette<br>
+&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Officier de la Légion d'honneur<br>
+&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Fondateur de la colonie de Vait-hua<br>
+&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Mort au champ d'honneur<br>
+&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Le 17 &mdash;&mdash;bre, 1842&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>I read it to my friends. They pressed their 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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,
+&ldquo;<i>Tapu!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ladebat instantly fired his shot-gun at the chief, and instantly two
+balls from native guns pierced his brain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Halley,&rdquo; runs the old chronicle, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>corvette</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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, &ldquo;The Church of the Mother of God.&rdquo; Above the
+shattered doors were two carven hearts, a red dagger through one and
+a red flame issuing from the other. A black cross was fixed above
+these symbols, which Vanquished Often and Exploding Eggs regarded
+with respect. To the Marquesan these are all <i>tiki</i>, or charms,
+which have superseded their own.</p>
+
+<p>Beside the decaying church stood a refectory far gone in ruin, that
+once had housed a dozen friars. Breadfruit-, mango- and orange-trees
+grew in the tangled tall grass, and the garden where the priests had
+read their breviaries was a wilderness of tiger-lilies. Among them
+we found empty bottles of a &ldquo;Medical Discovery,&rdquo; a patent medicine
+dispensed from Boston, favored in these islands where liquor is
+tabooed by government.</p>
+
+<p>Seventh Man, coming up the trail to meet us, found us looking at them.
+He lifted one and sniffed it regretfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Prenty strong,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Make drunkee. Call him Kennedee. He cost
+much. Drinkee two piece you sick three day.&rdquo; He smiled reminiscently,
+and once more I thought of that day when the unfortunate gendarme
+had surprised the orgiasts in the forest and lost his nose. The
+chief accompanied us down the trail.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My brother of grandfather have first gun in Marquesas,&rdquo; he said
+with meaning when I spoke of the days of Halley. &ldquo;One chief Iotete
+have prenty trouble <i>Menike</i> whaleman. He send for French admiral
+help him. Captiane Halley come with sailor. Frenchman he never go
+'way.&rdquo; Again his teeth gleamed in a smile. &ldquo;My brother of
+grandfather have gun long time in hills,&rdquo; he added cryptically.</p>
+
+<p>Too soon the time came when I must return to my own <i>paepae</i> in
+Atuona. Vanquished Often wept at my decision, and Mrs. Seventh Man
+rubbed my nose long with hers as she entreated me to remain in the
+home she had given over to me. The chief, finding remonstrance
+useless, volunteered to accompany me on my return, and one midnight
+woke me to be ready when the wind was right.</p>
+
+<p>We went down the trail through wind and darkness, the chief blowing
+a conch-shell for the crew. In the straw shanty where my hosts had
+spread their mats that I might have the full occupancy of their
+comfortable home, we found Mrs. Seventh Man making tea for me.
+Vanquished Often sat apart in the shadow, her face averted, but when
+my cocoanut-shell was filled with the streaming brew she sprang
+forward passionately and would let no hand but hers present it to me.</p>
+
+<p>All day it had been raining, and the downpour rushed from the eaves
+with a melancholy sound as we sat in the lantern-lighted dimness
+drinking from the shells. The crew came in one by one, their naked
+bodies running water, their eyes eager for a draught of the tea, into
+which I put a little rum, the last of the two litres. Squall
+followed squall, shaking the hut. At half-past two, in a little lull
+which Neo guessed might last, we went out to the rain-soaked beach,
+launched the canoe, and paddled away.</p>
+
+<p>My last sight of Vait-hua was the dim line of surf on the sand, and
+beyond it the slender figure of Vanquished Often holding aloft a
+lantern whose rays faintly illumined against the darkness her
+windblown white tunic and blurred face.</p>
+
+<p>The storm had lured us by, a brief cessation. We had hardly left the
+beach before the heavens opened and deluged us with rain. Water
+sluiced our bare backs and ran in streams down the brawny arms
+bending to the oars. We paddled an hour before the wind was favorable,
+and a dreary hour it was. The canoe had an out-rigger, but was so
+narrow that none could sit except on the sharp side. I fell asleep
+even upon it, and woke in the sea, with the chief, who had flung
+himself to my rescue, clutching my hair.</p>
+
+<p>Morning found our canoe close to the rocky coast of Hiva-oa. As is
+their custom, instead of making a beeline for our destination or
+sailing to it close-hauled as the winds permitted, the Marquesans
+had steered for the nearest shore, following along it to port. This
+method is attended with danger, for off the threatening cliffs a
+heavy sea was running, great waves dashing on the rocks, and we were
+perforce in the trough as we skirted the land.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr17"></a>
+<a href="images/img17.jpg"><img src="images/thumb17.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Catholic Church at Atuona<br/>
+Described by Stevenson in <i>The South Seas</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr18"></a>
+<a href="images/img18.jpg"><img src="images/thumb18.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A native spearing fish from a rock</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>We quit the sail for oars, and it took every ounce of strength and
+skill on the part of the rowers and Seventh Man to avoid shipwreck.
+Each breaker as it passed tossed the frail craft skyward, and we fell
+into the abysses as a rock into a bottomless pit. Every instant it
+seemed that we must capsize. While we fought thus, in a frenzied
+effort to keep off the rocks, the sun rose, and every curl of water
+turned to clearest emerald, while the hollows of the leaping waves
+were purple as dark amethysts.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, as we slid breathlessly downward, a great wall of water
+rose beside us, higher and higher until it seemed to touch the sky,
+clear and solid-looking as a sheet of green glass, a sight so
+stupendous that amazement took the place of fear. For an instant it
+remained poised above us, then crashed down with the shock of an
+earthquake.</p>
+
+<p>Stunned, I emerged from a smother of water to find our canoe
+completely under the waves, kept afloat solely by grace of the
+outrigger. All hands were overside, clinging to the edge of the
+submerged craft, while Exploding Eggs and I bailed for our lives.
+Strong swimmers, they held us off-shore until we had so lowered the
+water that they could resume the oars.</p>
+
+<p>For two hours we tossed about, while the chief held the steering-oar
+and his men paddled through a welter of jeweled color that
+threatened momentarily to toss us on the rocks. If we smashed on
+them we were dead men, for even had we been able to climb them the
+high tide would have drowned us against the wall of the cliffs. No
+man showed the slightest fear, though they pulled like giants and
+obeyed instantly each order of the chief.</p>
+
+<p>Battling in this fashion, we rounded at last Point Teaehoa and won
+the protection of the Bay of Traitors. I, at least, felt
+immeasurable relief, that quickly turned to exhilaration as we
+hoisted sail and drove at a glorious speed straight through the
+breakers to the welcoming beach of Atuona.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The Marquesans at ten o'clock mass; a remarkable conversation about
+religions and Joan of Arc in which Great Fern gives his idea of the
+devil.</i></p>
+
+<p>I was surprised to note that the few natives within view when we
+landed were dressed in the stiff and awkward clothes of the European;
+some fête must have been arranged during my absence, I thought. Then
+with a shock I realized that the day was Sunday. In the lovely,
+timeless valley of Vait-hua the calendar had dropped below the
+horizon of memory as my native land had dropped below the rim of the
+sea. Here in Atuona, whose life was colored by the presence of whites,
+the days must take up their constricted regular march again.</p>
+
+<p>Already through the crystal air of a morning after rain the mission
+bells were ringing clear, and Chief Neo, forgetting the night of
+toil and danger past, was eager to accompany me to church. It would
+be an honor befitting his chiefly rank to sit with the distinguished
+white man in the house of worship, and I, remembering his perfect
+hospitality, was glad to do him honor in my own valley.</p>
+
+<p>We hastened to my cabin, Exploding Eggs running before us up the
+trail with my luggage balanced on his shoulders. Cocoanuts and
+<i>popoi</i>, coffee and tinned biscuits, were waiting when we arrived.
+We ate hastily and then donned proper garments, Exploding Eggs
+rejoicing in a stiff collar and a worn sailor-hat once mine. They
+sat oddly upon him, being several sizes too large, but he bore
+himself with pride as we set out toward the church.</p>
+
+<p>In the avenue of bananas leading to the mission I lingered to
+observe the beauty of the flakes upon the ground. They are the
+outside layers of the pendulum of that graceful plant, the purple
+flower-cone that hangs at the end of the fruit cluster with its
+volute and royal-hued stem. The banana-plants, which we call trees,
+lined the road and stood twenty feet high, their long slender leaves
+blowing in the light wind like banners from a castle wall.</p>
+
+<p>The flakes that had dropped upon the ground were lovely. Large as a
+lady's veil, ribbed satin, rose and purple, pink and scarlet, the
+filmy edges curled delicately, they hinted the elegance and luxury
+of a pretty woman's boudoir. And, like all such dainty trifles, the
+charming flower that hangs like a colored lamp in the green chapel
+of the banana-grove it is useless after it has served its brief
+purpose. The fruit grows better when it is cut off.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite the spacious mission grounds the worshippers were gathering
+beneath two gnarled banian-trees, giant-like in height and spread.
+Behind them a long hedge of bananas bordered the cocoanut plantation
+of the church, and across the narrow road rose the chapel, the
+priests' residence and the nuns' house, with several school
+buildings now empty because of the French anti-clerical law.</p>
+
+<p>Exploding Eggs in his new finery and the visiting chief from
+Vait-hua found welcome among the waiting natives, while Titihuti of
+the tattooed legs took her seat beside me. She had combed her Titian
+tresses and anointed them with oil till they shone like the kelp beds
+of Monterey. Her tunic was of scarlet calico, and she carried in her
+hand a straw hat with a red ribbon, to put on when she entered the
+church. &ldquo;<i>Kaoha!</i>&rdquo; I said to her, and she smiled, displaying her even,
+white teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, looking past her at the church, my eye caught a sight that
+transfixed me. In the misty light I saw the Christ upon the cross as
+on Calvary. The sublime figure was in the agony of expiration, and at
+the foot of the cross stood the ever faithful mother and the loving
+John in attitudes of amazement and grief. The reality was startling;
+for the moment I forgot all about me.</p>
+
+<p>But Titihuti coughed, and I saw her tattooed legs and felt the rough
+roots of the banian under me, and I was back in the courtyard. The
+spectacle of the Crucifixion was raised on a basalt platform fully
+twenty feet long. The figures were of golden bronze, and the cross
+was painted white. Over it hung the branches of a lofty
+breadfruit-tree, a congruous canopy for such a group. The Bread of
+Life, in truth.</p>
+
+<p>A tablet on the cross bore the inscription:</p>
+
+<blockquote style="text-align:center;">
+<p>&ldquo;1900<br>
+Le Christ Dieu Homme<br>
+Vit<br>
+Regne<br>
+Commande<br>
+Christo Redemptori<br>
+Jubilé 1901<br>
+Atuona.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>tiki</i> of the true god,&rdquo; said Titihuti, observing my gaze, and
+crossed herself with the fervor of the believer in a new charm.</p>
+
+<p>On the roof a score of doves were cooing as we filed into the church.
+There were bas-reliefs of cherubim and seraphim over the doorway, fat,
+distorted bodies with wings a-wry, yet with a celestial vision
+showing through the crude workmanship. A loop-holed buttress on
+either side of the facade spoke of the days when the forethought of
+the builders planned for defence in case a reaction of paganism
+caused the congregation to attack the Christian fathers.</p>
+
+<p>Inside the doorway a French nun in blue robes tugged at a rope
+depending from the belfry, and above us the bells rang out from two
+tiny towers. She looked curiously at me and my savage companion, her
+pale peasant's face hard, homely, unhealthy; then she kicked at a
+big dog who was trying to drink the holy water from the clam-shell
+beside the door. &ldquo;<i>Allez</i>, Satan!&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>benetier</i>, large enough to immerse an infant, was fixed to a
+board, a fascinating, blackened old bracket, carved with the
+instruments of torture, the nails, the spear, the scourge, and thorns.
+Ivory and pearl, stained by a century or more, were inlaid. As I
+dipped my hand in the shell a huge lizard that made his nest in the
+hollow of the bracket ran across my knuckles.</p>
+
+<p>Within, there were seats with kneeling-planks, hewed out of hard
+wood and still bearing the marks of the adze. Upon them the
+congregation soon assembled, the women on one side, the men on the
+other. The women wore hats, native weaves in semi-sailor style,
+decorated with Chinese silk shawls or bright-colored handkerchiefs.
+All were barefooted except the pale and sickly daughters of Baufré,
+who wore clumsy and painful shoes. Many Daughters, the little,
+lovely leper, came with Flower, of the red-gold hair, the Weaver of
+Mats, who had her names tattooed on her arm. They dipped in the font
+and genuflected, then bowed in prayer.</p>
+
+<p>Many familiar faces I recognized. Ah Yu, the Chinaman who owned the
+little store beyond the banian-tree and had murder upon his soul;
+Lam Kai Oo, my erstwhile landlord; Flag, the gendarme; Water, in all
+the glory of European trousers; Kake, with my small namesake on her
+arm. The old women were tattooed on the ears and neck in scrolls,
+and their lips were marked in faint stripes. The old men, their eyes
+ringed with tattooing, wore earrings and necklaces of whale's teeth.</p>
+
+<p>The church was painted white inside, with frescoes and dados of
+gaudy hues, and windows of brilliantly colored glass. The altar, as
+also the statues of Joseph and Mary, had a reredos handsomely carved.
+Outside the railing was a charming Child in the Manger, lying on
+real straw, surrounded by the Virgin, Joseph, the Magi, the shepherds,
+and the kings, all in bright-hued robes, and pleasant-looking cows
+and asses with red eyes and green tails.</p>
+
+<p>The singing began before the priest came from the sacristy. The men
+sang alone and the women followed, in an alternating chant that at
+times rose into a wail and again had the nasal sound of a bag-pipe.
+The Catholic chants sung thus in Marquesan took on a wild, barbaric
+rhythm that thrilled the blood and made the hair tingle on the scalp.</p>
+
+<p>Bishop David le Cadre appeared in elegant vestments, his eyes grave
+above a foot-long beard, and the mass began. The acolyte was very
+agile in a short red cassock, below which his naked legs, and bare
+feet showed. The people responded often through the mass, rising,
+sitting down, and kneeling obediently. Baufré sat on a chair in the
+vestibule and added accounts.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Kee Au was the sole communicant at the rail. No cloth was spread,
+but the bell announced the mystery of transubstantiation, and all
+bowed their heads while Ah Kee Au reverently offered his communion to
+the welfare of Napoleon, his grandson who had accidentally shot
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The service over, the people poured from the church into the
+brilliant sunshine of the road, and Ah Kee Au said to me, &ldquo;You savee
+thlat communio' blead b'long my place. My son makee for pliest.&rdquo; Lam
+Kai Oo, pressing forward, offered the communicant a draught of fiery
+rum he had obtained by the governor's permission. He had been told
+that to give a glass of water to a communicant, who must of course
+have fasted and abstained from any liquid since midnight according to
+the law of the Church, was a holy act which brought the giver a
+blessing, and so the subtle Chinese thought to make his blessing
+greater by offering a drink better than water.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Kee Au drank with fervor. &ldquo;My makee holee thliss morn',&rdquo; he said
+gladly. &ldquo;Makee Napoleon more happy.&rdquo; Sincerity is not a matter of
+broken English or a drink of rum; the poor old grandfather of the
+Little Corporal's namesake believed earnestly that Napoleon would
+improve by his sacramental offering. He, like most Marquesans, took
+the white man's religion with little understanding. It is new magic
+to them, a comfort, an occupation, and an entertainment. But who
+knows the human heart, or understands the soul?</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon while Neo and I lay on my <i>paepae</i> awaiting the
+favoring wind which should carry him back to his own isle, my
+neighbors gathered from far and near to lounge the sunny hours away
+in conversation. Squatted on the mats, they engaged in serious
+discussion of the puzzles of religion, appealing to me often to
+settle vexing questions which they had long wearied of asking their
+better-informed instructors in religious mysteries.</p>
+
+<p>Their native tongue has no word for religion. Bishop Dordillon had
+been obliged to translate it, &ldquo;<i>Te mea e hakatika me te mea e hana
+mea koaha toitoi i te Etua</i>&rdquo; which might be rendered, &ldquo;Belief in the
+works and love of a just God.&rdquo; Etua, often spelled Atua, was the
+name of divinity among all Maori peoples, but religion was so
+associated with natural things, the phenomena of nature, of living
+things, and of the heavens and sea, that it was part of daily life
+and needed no word to distinguish it.</p>
+
+<p>Never were people less able to comprehend the creeds and formulas in
+which the religious beliefs of the white men are clothed. Marquesans
+are not deep thinkers. In fact, they have a word, <i>tahoa</i>, which
+means, &ldquo;a headache from thinking.&rdquo; Ten years of ardent and nobly
+self-sacrificing work by missionaries left the islands still without
+a single soul converted. It was not until the chiefs began to set
+the seal of their approval on the new outlandish faiths that the
+people flocked to the standard of the cross. And when they did begin
+to meditate the doctrines preached to them as necessary beliefs in
+order to win salvation, their heads ached indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Even after years of faithful church-going many of my friends still
+struggled with their doubts, and when these were propounded to me I
+was fain to wrinkle my own brow and ponder deeply.</p>
+
+<p>The burning question as to the color of Adam and Eve had long been
+settled. Adam and Eve were brown, like themselves. But if, as the
+priests said was most probable, Adam and Eve had received pardon and
+were in heaven, why had their guilt stained all mankind?</p>
+
+<p>Also, would Satan have been able to tempt Eve if God had not made
+the tree of knowledge <i>tapu</i>? Was not knowledge a good thing? What
+motive had led the Maker and Knower of all things to do this deed?</p>
+
+<p>What made the angels fall? Pride, said the priests. Then how did it
+get into heaven? demanded the perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>The resurrection of the body at the last judgment horrified them.
+This fact, said the husband of Kake, had led to the abandonment of
+the old manner of burying corpses in a sitting posture, with the
+face between the knees and the hands under the thighs, the whole
+bound round with cords. Obviously, a man buried in such a position
+would rise deformed. Their dead in the cemetery on the heights slept
+now in long coffins of wood, their limbs at ease. But other and less
+premeditated interments still befell the unwary islander.</p>
+
+<p>What would God do in cases where sharks had eaten a Marquesan? And
+what, when the same shark had been killed and eaten by other
+Marquesans? And in the case of the early Christian forefathers, who
+were eaten by men of other tribes, and afterward the cannibals eaten
+in retaliation, and then the last feaster eaten by sharks? <i>Aue!</i>
+There was a headache query!</p>
+
+<p>At this point in the discussion an aged stranger from the valley of
+Taaoa, a withered man whose whole naked chest was covered with
+intricate tattooing, laid down his pipe and artlessly revealed his
+idea of the communion service. It was, he thought, a religious
+cannibalism, no more. And he was puzzled that his people should be
+told that it was wrong to feed on the flesh of a fellow human
+creature when they were urged to &ldquo;eat the body and drink the blood&rdquo;
+of <i>Ietu Kirito</i> himself.</p>
+
+<p>It was long afterward, in that far-away America so incomprehensible
+to my simple savage friends, that I read beneath the light of an
+electric lamp a paragraph in &ldquo;Folkways,&rdquo; by William Graham Summer,
+of Yale:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Language used in communion about eating the body and
+drinking the blood of Christ refers to nothing in our <i>mores</i> and
+appeals to nothing in our experience. It comes down from
+very remote ages; very probably from cannibalism.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The printed page vanished, and before my eyes rose a vision of my
+<i>paepae</i> among the breadfruit- and cocoanut-trees, the ring of
+squatting dusky figures in flickering sunlit leaf-shade, Kake in her
+red tunic with the babe at her breast, Exploding Eggs standing by
+with a half-eaten cocoanut, and the many dark eyes in their circles
+of ink fixed upon the shriveled face of the reformed cannibal whose
+head ached with the mysteries of the white man's religion.</p>
+
+<p>None too soon for me, the talk turned about history, the tales of
+which were confused in my guests' minds with those of the saints.
+Great Fern insisted that if the English roasted Joan of Arc they ate
+her, because no man would apply live coals, which pain exceedingly,
+to any living person, and fire was never placed upon a human body
+save to cook it for consumption. This theory seemed reasonable to
+most of the listeners, for since such cruelty as the Marquesans
+practiced in their native state was thoughtless and never intentional,
+the idea of torture was incomprehensible to their simple minds.</p>
+
+<p>Malicious Gossip, a comely savage of twenty-five with false-coffee
+leaves in her hair, declared, however, that the governor had told
+her the English roasted Joan alive because she was a heretic. The
+statement was received with startled protests by those present who
+had themselves incurred that charge when they deserted Catholicism
+for Protestantism some time earlier.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Exploding Eggs,&rdquo; said I hastily, &ldquo;make tea for all.&rdquo; Every shade
+vanished from shining eyes when I produced the bottle of rum and
+added a spoonful of flavor to each brimming shellful. All perplexing
+questions were forgotten, and simple social pleasure reigned again
+on my <i>paepae</i>, while Great Fern explained to all his idea of the
+Christian devil.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesan deity of darkness was Po, a vague and elemental spirit.
+But the <i>kuhane anera maaa</i> of the new religion had definite and
+fearful attributes explained by the priests. So Great Fern conceived
+him as a kind of cross between a man and a boar, with a tail like
+that of a shark, running through the forests with a bunch of lighted
+candlenuts and setting fire to the houses of the wicked.</p>
+
+<p>And the wicked? Morals as we know them had nothing to do with their
+sin in his mind. The wicked were the unkind, those who were cruel to
+children, wives who made bad <i>popoi</i>, and whites with rum privileges
+who forgot hospitality.</p>
+
+<p>Non-Christians may grin at the efforts of missionaries among heathens.
+But the missionaries are the only influence for good in the islands,
+the only white men seeking to mitigate the misery and ruin brought
+by the white man's system of trade. The extension of civilized
+commerce has crushed every natural impulse of brotherliness, kindness,
+and generosity, destroyed every good and clean custom of these
+children of nature. Traders and sailors, whalers and soldiers, have
+been their enemies.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever the errors of the men of God, they have given their lives
+day by day in unremitting, self-sacrificing toil, suffering much to
+share with these despoiled people the light of their own faith in a
+better world hereafter. In so far as they have failed, they have
+failed because they have lacked what proselytizing religion has
+always lacked&mdash;a joy in life that seeks to make this mundane
+existence more endurable, a grace of humor, and a broad simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>Polynesians have always been respecters of authority. Under their
+own rule, where priest and king equally rose to rank because of
+admired deeds, the <i>tapus</i> of the priests had the same force as
+those of chiefs, and life was conducted by few and simple rules. Now,
+when sect fights sect; when priests assure the people that France is
+a Catholic nation and the Governor says the statement is false;
+where the Protestant pastor teaches that Sunday is a day of
+solemnity and prayer, and the Frenchmen make it a day of merriment
+as in France; where salvation depends on many beliefs bewildering
+and incompatible, the puzzled Marquesan scratches his head and
+swings from creed to creed, while his secret heart clings to the old
+gods.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesan had a joyful religion, full of humor and abandon,
+dances and chants, and exaltation of nature, of the greatness of
+their tribe or race, a worship that was, despite its ghastly rites
+of human sacrifice, a stimulus to life.</p>
+
+<p>The efforts of missionaries have killed the joy of living as they
+have crushed out the old barbarities, uprooting together everything,
+good and bad, that religion meant to the native. They have given him
+instead rites that mystify him, dogmas he can only dimly understand,
+and a little comfort in the miseries brought upon him by trade.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen a leper alone on his <i>paepae</i>, deep in the Scriptures,
+and when I asked him if he got comfort from them I was answered,
+&ldquo;They are strong words for a weak man, and better than pig.&rdquo; But
+only a St. Francis Xavier or a Livingstone, a great moral force,
+could lift the people now from the slough of despond in which they
+expire.</p>
+
+<p>Upon this people, sparkingly alive, spirited as wild horses, not
+depressed as were their conquerors by a heritage of thousands of
+years of metes and bounds, religion as forced upon them has been not
+only a narcotic, but a death potion.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The marriage of Malicious Gossip; matrimonial customs of the simple
+natives; the domestic difficulties of Haabuani.</i></p>
+
+<p>Mouth of God and his wife, Malicious Gossip, soon became intimates
+of my <i>paepae</i>. Coming first to see the marvelous Golden Bed and to
+listen to the click-click of the Iron Fingers That Make Words, they
+remained to talk, and I found them both charming.</p>
+
+<p>Both were in their early twenties, ingenuous, generous, clever, and
+devoted to each other and to their friends. Malicious Gossip was
+beautiful, with soft dark eyes, clear-cut features, and a grace and
+lovely line of figure that in New York would make all heads whirl.
+She was all Marquesan, but her husband, Mouth of God, had white
+blood in him. Whose it was, he did not know, for his mother's
+consort had been an islander. His mother, a large, stern, and
+Calvinistic cannibal, believed in predestination, and spent her days
+in fear that she would be among the lost. Her Bible was ever near,
+and often, passing their house, I saw her climb with it into a
+breadfruit-tree and read a chapter in the high branches where she
+could avoid distraction.</p>
+
+<p>They lived in a spacious house set in three acres of breadfruit and
+cocoanuts, an ancient grove long in their family. Often I squatted
+on their mats, dipping a gingerly finger in their <i>popoi</i> bowl and
+drinking the sweet wine of the half-ripe cocoanut, the while Mouth
+of God's mother spoke long and earnestly on the abode of the damned
+and the necessity for seeking salvation. In return, Malicious Gossip
+spent hours on my <i>paepae</i> telling me of the customs of her people
+new and old.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was thirteen,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;the whalers still came to Vait-hua,
+my valley. There came a young <i>Menike</i> man, straight and bright-eyed,
+a passenger on a whaling-ship seeking adventure. I sighed the first
+time in my life when I looked on him. He was handsome, and not like
+other men on your ships.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The kiss you white men give he taught me to like. He was generous
+and gentle and good. Months we dwelt together in a house by the
+stream in the valley. When he sailed away at last, as all white men
+do who are worth wanting to stay, he tore out my heart. My milk
+turned to poison and killed our little child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I met long after with Mouth of God. He took me to his house in the
+breadfruit-grove. He was good and gentle, but I was long in learning
+to love him. It was the governor who made me know that I was his
+woman. It came about in this manner:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That governor was one whom all hated for his coldness and cruelty.
+Mouth of God worked for him in the house where medicines are made,
+having learned to mix the medicines in a bowl and to wrap cloths
+about the wounds of those who were sick. One day, according to the
+custom of white men who rule, the governor said to Mouth of God that
+he must send me to the palace that night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When he came home to the house where we lived together, Mouth of
+God gave me his word. He said: &lsquo;Go to the river and bathe. Put on
+your crimson tunic and flowers in your hair and go to the palace. The
+governor gives a feast to-night, and you are to dance and to sleep
+in the governor's bed.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Malicious Gossip shuddered, and rocked herself to and fro upon the
+mats. &ldquo;Then I would have killed him! I cried out to him and said: &lsquo;I
+will not go to the governor! He is a devil. My heart hates him. I am
+a Marquesan. What have I to do with a man I hate?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Go!&rsquo; said Mouth of God, and his eyes were hard as the black stones
+of the High Place. &lsquo;The governor asks for you. He is the government.
+Since when have Marquesan women said no to the command of the
+<i>adminstrateur</i>?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wept, but I took my brightest <i>kahu ropa</i> from the sandalwood
+chest my <i>Menike</i> man had given me, and I went down the path to the
+stream. As I went I wept, but my heart was black, and I thought to
+take a keen-edged knife beneath my tunic when I went to the palace.
+But my feet were not yet wet in the edge of the water when Mouth of
+God called to me.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Do not go,&rsquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I answered: &lsquo;I will go. You told me to go. I am on my way.&rsquo; My
+tears were salt in my mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;No!&rsquo; said Mouth of God. He ran, and he came to me in the pool
+where I had flung myself. There in the water he held me, and his
+arms crushed the breath from my ribs. &lsquo;You will not go!&rsquo; he said. &lsquo;I
+spoke those words to know if you would go to the governor. If you
+had gone quickly, if you had not wept, I would kill you. You are my
+woman. No other shall have you.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I knew that I was his woman, and I forgot my <i>Menike</i> lover.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; she said to me after a pause, &ldquo;I would have gone to the
+palace. But I would never have come back to the house of Mouth of God.
+That was the beginning of our love. He would yield me to nobody. He
+told the governor that I would not come, and he waited to kill the
+governor if he must. But the governor laughed, and said there were
+many others. Mouth of God and I were married then by Monsieur Vernier,
+in the church of his mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was the manner of my marriage. The same as that of the girls
+in your own island, is it not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was much the same, I said. It differed only in some slight
+matters of custom. She listened fascinated while I described to her
+our complicated conventions of courtship, our calling upon young
+ladies for months and even years, our gifts, our entertainments, our
+giving of rings, our setting of the marriage months far in the future,
+our orange wreaths and veils and bridesmaids. She found these things
+almost incredible.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marriage here,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;may come to a young man when he does not
+seek or even expect it. No Marquesan can marry without the consent
+of his mother, and often she marries him to a girl without his even
+thinking of such a thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A young man may bring home a girl he does not know, perhaps a girl
+he has seen on the beach in the moonlight, to stay with him that
+night in his mother's house. It may be that her beauty and charm
+will so please his mother that she will call a family council after
+the two have gone to bed. If the family thinks as the mother does,
+they determine to marry the young man to that girl, and they do so
+after this fashion:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Early in the morning, just at dawn, before the young couple awake,
+all the women of the household arouse them with shrieks. They beat
+their breasts, cut themselves with shells, crying loudly, <i>Aue! Aue!</i>
+Neighbors rush in to see who has died. The youth and the girl run
+forth in terror. Then the mother, the grandmother and all other
+women of the house chant the praises of the girl, singing her beauty,
+and wailing that they cannot let her go. They demand with anger that
+the son shall not let her go. All the neighbors cry with them,
+<i>Aue! Aue!</i> and beat their breasts, until the son, covered with
+shame, asks the girl to stay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then her parents are sent the word, and if they do not object, the
+girl remains in his house. That is often the manner of Marquesan
+marriage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Yet often, of course, she explained, marriage was not the outcome of
+a night's wooing. The young Marquesan frequently brought home a girl
+who did not instantly win his mother's affection. In that case she
+went her way next morning after breakfast, and that was all. Our
+regard for chastity was incomprehensible to Malicious Gossip,
+instructed though she was in all the codes of the church. It was to
+her a creed preached to others by the whites, like wearing shoes or
+making the Sabbath a day of gloom, and though she had been told that
+violation of this code meant roasting forever as in a cannibal pit
+whose fires were never extinguished, her mind could perceive no
+reason for it. She could attach no blame to an act that seemed to
+her an innocent, natural, and harmless amusement.</p>
+
+<p>The truth is that no value was, or is, attached to maidenhood in all
+Polynesia, the young woman being left to her own whims without blame
+or care. Only deep and sincere attachment holds her at last to the
+man she has chosen, and she then follows his wishes in matters of
+fidelity, though still to a large extent remaining mistress of
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesan woman, however, often denies her husband the freedom
+she herself openly enjoys. This custom persists as a striking
+survival of polyandry, in which fidelity under pain of dismissal
+from the roof-tree was imposed by the wife on all who shared her
+affections.</p>
+
+<p>This was exactly the status of a household not far from my cabin.
+Haabuani, master of ceremonies at the dances, the best carver and
+drum-beater of all Atuona, who was of pure Marquesan blood, but
+spoke French fluently and earnestly defended the doctrine of the
+Pope's infallibility,&mdash;even coming to actual blows with a defiant
+Protestant upon my very <i>paepae</i>&mdash;explained his attitude.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I have a friend and he temporarily desires my wife, Toho, I am
+glad if she is willing. But my enemy shall not have that privilege
+with my consent. I would be glad to have you look upon her with favor.
+You are kind to me. You have treated me as a chief and you have
+bought my <i>kava</i> bowl. But, <i>écoutez, Monsieur</i>, Toho does what she
+pleases, yet if I toss but a pebble in another pool she is furious.
+See, I have the bruises still of her beating.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a tearful whine he showed the black-and-blue imprints of Toho's
+anger, and made it known to us that the three <i>piastres</i> he had of
+me for the <i>kava</i> bowl had been traced by his wife to the till of Le
+Brunnec's store, where Flower, the daughter of Lam Kai Oo, had spent
+them for ribbons. Toho in her fury had beaten him so that for a day
+and a night he lay groaning upon the mats.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is as it should be,&rdquo; said Malicious Gossip, sternly, while her
+curving lips set in straight lines. Sex morality means conformity to
+sex <i>tapus</i>, the world over.</p>
+
+<p>Free polyandry still exists in many countries I have seen, and in
+others its dying out leaves these fragmentary survivals. I have
+visited the tribe of Subanos, in the west and north of the island of
+Mindanao in the Philippine archipelago, where the rich men are
+polygamists, and the poor still submit to polyandry. Economic
+conditions there bring about the same relations, under a different
+guise, as in Europe or America, where wealthy rakes keep up several
+establishments, and many wage-earners support but one prostitute.</p>
+
+<p>Polyandry is found almost exclusively in poor countries, where there
+is always a scarcity of females. Thus we have polyandry founded on a
+surplus of males caused by poverty of sustenance. The female is, in
+fact, supposed to be the result of a surplus of nutrition; more boys
+than girls are born in the country districts because the city diet
+is richer, especially in meat and sugar. It is notable that the
+families of the pioneers of western America bore a surprising
+majority of males.</p>
+
+<p>In the Marquesas, where living was always difficult and the diet poor,
+there were always more men than women despite the frequent wars in
+which men were victims. Another reason was that male children were
+saved often when females were killed in the practice of infanticide,
+also forced by famine. The overplus of men made them amenable to the
+commands of the women, who often dominated in permanent alliances,
+demanding lavishment of wealth and attention from their husbands.</p>
+
+<p>Yet&mdash;and this is a most significant fact&mdash;the father-right in the
+child remained the basis of the social system.</p>
+
+<p>Throughout all Australia, Melanesia, and Papuasis on the east, and
+America on the west, the mother-right prevailed among primitive
+peoples. Children followed the mother, took their name from her, and
+inherited property through her. I have known a Hawaiian nobleman who,
+commenting on this fact, said that the system had merit in that no
+child could be called a bastard, and that the woman, who suffered
+most, was rewarded by pride of posterity. He himself, he said, was
+the son of a chieftess, but his father, a king, was the son of a
+negro cobbler.</p>
+
+<p>The father-right, so familiar to our minds that it seems to-day
+almost the only natural or existing social system, was in fact
+developed very lately among all races except the Caucasian and some
+tribes of the Mongols. Yet in the Marquesas, these islands cut off
+from all other peoples through ages of history, the father-right
+prevailed in spite of all the difficulties that attended its
+survival in polyandry.</p>
+
+<p>Each woman had many husbands, whom she ruled. The true paternity of
+her children it was impossible to ascertain. Yet so tenaciously did
+the Marquesans cling to the father-right in the child, that even
+this fact could not break it down. One husband was legally the
+father of all her children, ostensibly at least the owner of the
+household and of such small personal property as belonged to it
+under communism. The man remained, though in name only, the head of
+the polyandrous family.</p>
+
+<p>I seemed to see in this curious fact another proof of the ancient
+kinship between the first men of my own race and the prehistoric
+grandfathers of Malicious Gossip and Haabunai. My savage friends,
+with their clear features, their large straight eyes and olive skins,
+showed still the traces of their Caucasian blood. Their forefathers
+and mine may have hunted the great winged lizards together through
+primeval wildernesses, until, driven by who knows what urge of
+wanderlust or necessity, certain tribes set out in that drive
+through Europe and Asia toward America that ended at last, when a
+continent sunk beneath their feet, on these islands in the southern
+seas.</p>
+
+<p>It was a far flight for fancy to take, from my <i>paepae</i> in the
+jungle at the foot of Temetiu, but looking at the beauty and grace
+of Malicious Gossip as she sat on my mats in her crimson <i>pareu</i>, I
+liked to think that it was so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are cousins,&rdquo; I said to her, handing her a freshly-opened
+cocoanut which Exploding Eggs brought.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a great chief, but we love you as a blood-brother,&rdquo; she
+answered gravely, and lifted the shell bowl to her lips.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Filling the <i>popoi</i> pits in the season of the breadfruit; legend of
+the <i>mei</i>; the secret festival in a hidden valley.</i></p>
+
+<p>On the road to the beach one morning I came upon Great Fern, my
+landlord. Garbed in brilliant yellow <i>pareu</i>, he bore on his
+shoulders an immense <i>kooka</i>, or basket of cocoanut fiber, filled
+with quite two hundred pounds of breadfruit. The superb muscles
+stood out on his perfect body, wet with perspiration as though he
+had come from the river.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kaoha, Great Fern!&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;Where do you go with the <i>mei</i>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is <i>Meinui</i>, the season of the breadfruit,&rdquo; he replied.
+&ldquo;We fill the <i>popoi</i> pit beside my house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There is a word on the Marquesan tongue vividly picturing the
+terrors of famine. It means, &ldquo;one who is burned to drive away a
+drought.&rdquo; In these islands cut off from the world the very life of
+the people depends on the grace of rain. Though the skies had been
+kind for several years, not a day passing without a gentle downpour,
+there had been in the past dry periods when even the hardiest
+vegetation all but perished. So it came about that the Marquesan was
+obliged to improvise a method of keeping breadfruit for a long time,
+and becoming habituated to sour food he learned to like it, as many
+Americans relish ill-smelling cheese and fish and meat, or drink
+with pleasure absinthe, bitters, and other gagging beverages.</p>
+
+<p>In this season of plenteous breadfruit, therefore, Great Fern had
+opened his <i>popoi</i> pit, and was replenishing its supply. A
+half-dozen who ate from it were helping him. Only the enthusiasm of
+the traveler for a strange sight held me within radius of its odor.</p>
+
+<p>It was sunk in the earth, four feet deep and perhaps five in diameter,
+and was only a dozen years old, which made it a comparatively small
+and recently acquired household possession in the eyes of my savage
+friends. Mouth of God and Malicious Gossip owned a <i>popoi</i> pit dug
+by his grandfather, who was eaten by the men of Taaoa, and near the
+house of Vaikehu, a descendant of the only Marquesan queen, there
+was a <i>uuama tehito</i>, or ancient hole, the origin of which was lost
+in the dimness of centuries. It was fifty feet long and said to be
+even deeper, though no living Marquesan had ever tasted its stores,
+or never would unless dire famine compelled. It was <i>tapu</i> to the
+memory of the dead.</p>
+
+<p>All over the valley the filling of the pits for reserve against need
+was in progress. Up and down the trails the men were hastening,
+bearing the <i>kookas</i> filled with the ripe fruit, large as Edam
+cheeses and pitted on the surface like a golf-ball. A breadfruit
+weighs from two to eight pounds, and giants like Great Fern or
+Haabuani carried in the <i>kookas</i> two or three hundred pounds for
+miles on the steep and rocky trails.</p>
+
+<p>In the banana-groves or among thickets of <i>ti</i> the women were
+gathering leaves for lining and covering the pits, while around the
+center of interest naked children ran about, hindering and thinking
+they were helping, after the manner of children in all lands when
+future feasts are in preparation.</p>
+
+<p>There was a time when each grove of breadfruit had its owners, who
+guarded it for their own use, and even each tree had its allotted
+proprietor, or perhaps several. Density of population everywhere
+causes each mouthful of food to be counted. I have known in Ceylon an
+English judge who was called upon to decide the legal ownership of
+one 2520th part of ten cocoanut-trees. But my friends who were
+filling the <i>popoi</i> pits now might gather from any tree they pleased.
+There was plenty of breadfruit now that there were few people.</p>
+
+<p>Great Fern was culling from a grove on the mountain-side above my
+house. Taking his stand beneath one of the stately trees whose
+freakish branches and large, glossy, dark-green leaves spread
+perhaps ninety feet above his head, he reached the nearer boughs with
+an <i>omei</i>, a very long stick with a forked end to which was attached
+a small net of cocoanut fiber. Deftly twisting a fruit from its stem
+by a dexterous jerk of the cleft tip, he caught it in the net, and
+lowered it to the <i>kooka</i> on the ground by his side.</p>
+
+<p>When the best of the fruit within reach was gathered, he climbed the
+tree, carrying the <i>omei</i>. Each brown toe clasped the boughs like a
+finger, nimble and independent of its fellows through long use in
+grasping limbs and rocks. This is remarkable of the Marquesans; each
+toe in the old and industrious is often separated a half inch from
+the others, and I have seen the big toe opposed from the other four
+like a thumb. My neighbors picked up small things easily with their
+toes, and bent them back out of sight, like a fist, when squatting.</p>
+
+<p>Gripping a branch firmly with these hand-like feet, Great Fern
+wielded the <i>omei</i>, bringing down other breadfruit one by one,
+taking great care not to bruise them. The cocoanut one may throw
+eighty feet, with a twisting motion that lands it upon one end so
+that it does not break. But the <i>mei</i> is delicate, and spoils if
+roughly handled.</p>
+
+<p>Working in this fashion, Great Fern and his neighbors carried down
+to the <i>popoi</i> pit perhaps four hundred breadfruit daily, piling
+them there to be prepared by the women. Apporo and her companions
+busied themselves in piercing each fruit with a sharp stick and
+spreading them on the ground to ferment over night.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, squatted on their haunches and chanting as they
+worked, the women scraped the rind from the fermented <i>mei</i> with
+cowry shells, and grated the fruit into the pit which they had lined
+with banana leaves. From time to time they stood in the pit and
+tramped down the mass of pulp, or thumped it with wooden clubs.</p>
+
+<p>For two weeks or more the work continued. In the ancient days much
+ceremoniousness attended this provision against future famine, but
+to-day in Atuona only one rule was observed, that forbidding sexual
+intercourse by those engaged in filling the pits.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To break that <i>tapu</i>,&rdquo; said Great Fern, &ldquo;would mean sickness and
+disaster. Any one who ate such <i>popoi</i> would vomit. The forbidden
+food cannot be retained by the stomach.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To vomit during the fortnight occupied in the task of conserving the
+breadfruit brought grave suspicion that the unfortunate had broken
+the <i>tapu</i>. When their own savage laws governed them, that unhappy
+person often died from fear of discovery and the wrath of the gods.
+To guard against such a fate those who were not strong and well took
+no part in the task.</p>
+
+<p>This curious connection between sex and the preparation of food
+applied in many other cases. A woman making oil from dried cocoanuts
+was <i>tapu</i> as to sexual relations for four or five days, and
+believed that if did she sin, her labor would produce no oil. A man
+cooking in an oven at night obeyed the same <i>tapu</i>. I do not know,
+and was unable to discover, the origin of these prohibitions. Like
+many of our own customs, it has been lost in the mist of ages.</p>
+
+<p>A Tahitian legend of the origin of the breadfruit recounts that in
+ancient times the people subsisted on <i>araea</i>, red earth. A couple
+had a sickly son, their only child, who day by day slowly grew
+weaker on the diet of earth, until the father begged the gods to
+accept him as an offering and let him become food for the boy. From
+the darkness of the temple the gods at last spoke to him, granting
+his prayer. He returned to his wife and prepared for death,
+instructing her to bury his head, heart and stomach at different
+spots in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When you shall hear in the night a sound like that of a leaf, then
+of a flower, afterward of an unripe fruit, and then of a ripe, round
+fruit falling on the ground, know that it is I who am become food
+for our son,&rdquo; he said, and died.</p>
+
+<p>She obeyed him, and on the second night she heard the sounds. In the
+morning she and her son found a huge and wonderful tree where the
+stomach had been buried. The Tahitians believe that the cocoanut,
+chestnut, and yam miraculously grew from other parts of a man's
+corpse.</p>
+
+<p>Breadfruit, according to Percy Smith, was brought into these islands
+from Java by the ancestors of the Polynesians, who left India
+several centuries before Christ. They had come to Indonesia
+rice-eaters, but there found the breadfruit, &ldquo;which they took with
+them in their great migration into these Pacific islands two
+centuries and more after the beginning of this era.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Smith finds in the Tahitian legend proof of this contention. In the
+Polynesian language <i>araea</i>, the &ldquo;red earth&rdquo; of the tale, is the
+same as <i>vari</i>, and in Indonesia there were the words <i>fare</i>
+or <i>pare</i>, in Malay <i>padi</i> or <i>peri</i>, and in Malagasy <i>vari</i>, all
+meaning rice. A Rarotongan legend relates that in Hawaiki two new
+fruits were found, and the <i>vari</i> discarded. These fruits were the
+breadfruit and the horse-chestnut, neither of which is a native of
+Polynesia.</p>
+
+<p>I related these stories of the <i>mei</i> to Great Fern, who replied:
+&ldquo;<i>Aue!</i> It may be. The old gods were great, and all the world is a
+wonder. As for me, I am a Christian. The breadfruit ripens, and I
+fill the <i>popoi</i> pit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Great Fern was my friend, and, as he said, a Christian, yet I fear
+that he did not tell me all he knew of the ancient customs. There
+was an innocence too innocent in his manner when he spoke of them,
+like that of a child who would like one to believe that the cat ate
+the jam. And on the night when the <i>popoi</i> pits were filled, pressed
+down and running over, when they had been covered with banana leaves
+and weighed with heavy stones, and the season's task was finished,
+something occurred that filled my mind with many vague surmises.</p>
+
+<p>I had been awakened at midnight by the crashing fall of a cocoanut
+on the iron roof above my head. Often during the rainy nights I was
+startled by this sound of the incessantly falling nuts, that banged
+and rattled like round shot over my head. But on this night, as I
+composed myself to slumber again, my drowsy ears were uneasy with
+another thing, less a sound than an almost noiseless, thrumming
+vibration, faint, but disturbing.</p>
+
+<p>I sat up in my Golden Bed, and listened. Exploding Eggs was gone
+from his mat. The little house was silent and empty. Straining my
+ears I heard it unmistakably through the rustling noises of the
+forest and the dripping of rain from the eaves. It was the far, dim,
+almost inaudible beating of a drum.</p>
+
+<p>Old tales stirred my hair as I stood on my <i>paepae</i> listening to it.
+At times I thought it a fancy, again I heard it and knew that I
+heard it. At last, wrapping a <i>pareu</i> about me, I went down my trail
+to the valley road. The sound was drowned here by the splashing
+chuckle of the stream, but as I stood undecided in the pool of
+darkness beneath a dripping banana I saw a dark figure slip silently
+past me, going up toward the High Place. It was followed by another,
+moving through the night like a denser shadow. I went back to my
+cabin, scouted my urgent desire to shut and barricade the door, and
+went to bed. After a long time I slept.</p>
+
+<p>When I awoke next morning Exploding Eggs was preparing my breakfast
+as usual, the sunlight streamed over breadfruit and palm, and the
+night seemed a dream. But there were rumors in the village of a
+strange dance held by the inhabitants of Nuka-hiva, on another island,
+in celebration of the harvest of the <i>mei</i>. Weird observances were
+hinted, rites participated in only by men who danced stark naked,
+praising the old gods.</p>
+
+<p>This was a custom of the old days, said Great Fern, with those
+too-innocent eyes opened artlessly upon me. It has ever been the
+ceremony of Thanks-giving to the ancient gods, for a bountiful
+harvest, a propitiation, and a begging of their continued favor. As
+for him, he was a Christian. Such rites were held no more in Atuona.</p>
+
+<p>I asked no more questions. Thanks-giving to an omnipotent ruler for
+the fruits of the harvest season is almost universal. We have put in
+a proclamation and in church services and the slaughter of turkeys
+what these children do in dancing, as did Saul of old.</p>
+
+<p>The season's task completed, Great Fern and Apporo sat back well
+content, having provided excellently for the future. Certain of
+their neighbors, however, filled with ambition and spurred on by the
+fact that there was plenty of <i>mei</i> for all with no suspicion of
+greediness incurred by excessive possessions, continued to work
+until they had filled three pits. These men were regarded with
+admiration and some envy, having gained great honor. &ldquo;He has three
+<i>popoi</i> pits,&rdquo; they said, as we would speak of a man who owned a
+superb jewel or a Velasquez.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr19"></a>
+<a href="images/img19.jpg"><img src="images/thumb19.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A volunteer cocoanut grove, with trees of all ages</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr20"></a>
+<a href="images/img20.jpg"><img src="images/thumb20.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Climbing for cocoanuts</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The grated breadfruit in the holes was called <i>ma</i>, and bore the
+same relation to <i>popoi</i> as dough bears to bread. When the <i>ma</i> was
+sufficiently soured Apporo opened the pit each morning and took out
+enough for the day's provision, replacing the stones on the banana
+leaves afterward. The intrusion of insects and lizards was not
+considered to injure the flavor.</p>
+
+<p>I often sat on her <i>paepae</i> and watched her prepare the day's dinner.
+Putting the rancid mass of <i>ma</i> into a long wooden trough hollowed
+out from a tree-trunk, she added water and mixed it into a paste of
+the consistency of custard. This paste she wrapped in <i>purua</i> leaves
+and set to bake in a native oven of rocks that stood near the pit.</p>
+
+<p>Apporo smoked cigarettes while it baked, perhaps to measure the time.
+Marquesans mark off the minutes by cigarettes, saying, &ldquo;I will do
+so-and-so in three cigarettes,&rdquo; or, &ldquo;It is two cigarettes from my
+house to his.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When the cigarettes were consumed, or when her housewifely instinct
+told Apporo that the dish was properly cooked, back it went into the
+trough again, and was mashed with the <i>keatukipopoi</i>, the Phallic
+pounder of stone known to all primitive peoples. A <i>pahake</i>, or
+wooden bowl about eighteen inches in diameter, received it next, and
+the last step of the process followed.</p>
+
+<p>Taking a fistful of the mass, Apporo placed it in another <i>pahake</i>,
+and kneaded it for a long time with her fingers, using oil from
+crushed cocoanuts as a lubricant. And at last, proudly smiling, she
+set before me a dish of <i>popoi kaoi</i>, the very best <i>popoi</i> that can
+possibly be made.</p>
+
+<p>It is a dish to set before a sorcerer. I would as lief eat
+bill-poster's paste a year old. It tastes like a sour, acid custard.
+Yet white men learn to eat it, even to yearn for it. Captain Capriata,
+of the schooner <i>Roberta</i>, which occasionally made port in Atuona Bay,
+could digest little else. Give him a bowl of <i>popoi</i> and a stewed or
+roasted cat, and his Corsican heart warmed to the giver.</p>
+
+<p>As bread or meat are to us, so was <i>popoi</i> to my tawny friends. They
+ate it every day, sometimes three or four times a day, and consumed
+enormous quantities at a squatting. As the peasant of certain
+districts of Europe depends on black bread and cheese, the poor
+Irish on potatoes or stirabout, the Scotch on oatmeal, so the
+Marquesan satisfies himself with <i>popoi</i>, and likes it really better
+than anything else.</p>
+
+<p>Many times, when unable to evade the hospitality of my neighbors, I
+squatted with them about the brimming <i>pahake</i> set on their <i>paepae</i>,
+and dipped a finger with them, though they marveled at my lack of
+appetite. In the silence considered proper to the serious business of
+eating, each dipped index and second finger into the bowl, and
+neatly conveyed a portion of the sticky mass to his mouth, returning
+the fingers to the bowl cleansed of the last particle. Little
+children, beginning to eat <i>popoi</i> ere they were fairly weaned, put
+their whole hands into the dish, and often the lean and mangy curs
+that dragged out a wretched dog's existence about the <i>paepaes</i> were
+not deprived of their turn.</p>
+
+<p>If one accept the germ theory, one may find in the <i>popoi</i> bowl a
+cause for the rapid spread of epidemics since the whites brought
+disease to the islands.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A walk in the jungle; the old woman in the breadfruit tree; a night
+in a native hut on the mountain.</i></p>
+
+<p>Atuona Valley was dozing, as was its wont in the afternoons, when
+the governor, accompanied by the guardian of the palace, each
+carrying a shot-gun, invited me to go up the mountain to shoot
+<i>kukus</i> for dinner. The <i>kuku</i> is a small green turtle-dove, very
+common in the islands, and called also <i>u'u</i> and <i>kukupa</i>. Under any
+of these names the green-feathered morsel is excellent eating when
+broiled or fried.</p>
+
+<p>I did not take a gun, as, unless hunger demands it, I do not like to
+kill. We started out together, climbing the trail in single file,
+but the enthusiasm of the chase soon led my companions into the
+deeper brush where the little doves lured them, and only the sharp
+crack of an occasional shot wakening the echoes of the cliffs
+disturbed my solitude.</p>
+
+<p>The dark stillness of the deep valley, where the shadows of the
+mountains fell upon groves of cocoanuts and miles of tangled bush,
+recalled to me a cañon in New York City, in the center of the world
+of finance, gloomy even at noon, the sky-touching buildings darkening
+the street and the spirits of the dwellers like mountains. There,
+when at an unsual moment I had come from the artificially-lighted
+cage of a thousand slaves to money-getting, and found the street for
+a second deserted, no figure of animal or human in its sombre sweep,
+I had the same sensation of solitude and awe as in this jungle.
+Suddenly a multitude of people had debouched from many points, and
+shattered the impression.</p>
+
+<p>But here, in Atuona Valley, the hoot of the owl, the <i>kouku</i>, which
+in Malay is the ghost-bird, the <i>burong-hantu</i>, seemed to deepen the
+silence. Does not that word <i>hantu</i>, meaning in Malay an evil spirit,
+have some obscure connection with our American negro &ldquo;hant,&rdquo; a
+goblin or ghost? Certainly the bird's long and dismal &ldquo;Hoo-oo-oo&rdquo;
+wailing through the shuddering forest evoked dim and chilling
+memories of tales told by candlelight when I was a child in Maryland.</p>
+
+<p>Here on the lower levels I was still among the cocoanut-groves. The
+trail passed through acres of them, their tall gray columns rising
+like cathedral arches eighty feet above a green mat of creeping vines.
+Again it dipped into the woods, where one or two palms struggled
+upward from a clutching jungle. Everywhere I saw the nuts tied by
+their natural stems in clumps of forty or fifty and fastened to
+limbs which had been cut and lashed between trees. These had been
+gathered by climbers and left thus to be collected for drying into
+copra.</p>
+
+<p>Constantly the ripe nuts not yet gathered fell about me. These heavy
+missiles, many six or seven pounds in weight, fell from heights of
+fifty to one hundred feet and struck the earth with a dull sound.
+The roads and trails were littered with them. They fall every hour of
+the day in the tropics, yet I have never seen any one hurt by them.
+Narrow escapes I had myself, and I have heard of one or two who were
+severely injured or even killed by them, but the accidents are
+entirely out of proportion to the shots fired by the trees. One
+becomes an expert at dodging, and an instinct draws one's eyes to
+the branch about to shed a <i>mei</i>, or the palm intending to launch a
+cocoanut.</p>
+
+<p>As I made my way up the trail, pausing now and then to look about me,
+I came upon an old woman leaning feebly on a tall staff. Although it
+was the hour of afternoon sleep, she was abroad for some reason, and
+I stopped to say &ldquo;<i>Kaoha</i>,&rdquo; to her. A figure of wretchedness she was,
+bent almost double, her withered, decrepit limbs clad in a ragged
+<i>pareu</i> and her lean arms clutching the stick that bore her weight.
+She was so aged that she appeared unable to hear my greeting, and
+replied only mutteringly, while her bleary eyes gleamed up at me
+between fallen lids.</p>
+
+<p>Such miserable age appealed to pity, but as she appeared to wish no
+aid, I left her leaning on her staff, and moved farther along the
+trail, stopping again to gaze at the shadowed valley below while I
+mused on the centuries it had seen and the brief moment of a man's
+life. Standing thus, I was like to lose my own, for suddenly I heard
+a whirr like that of a shrapnel shell on its murderous errand, and
+at my feet fell a projectile.</p>
+
+<p>I saw that it was a breadfruit and that I was under the greatest
+tree of that variety I had ever seen, a hundred feet high and
+spreading like a giant oak. In the topmost branches was the
+tottering beldame I had saluted, and in both her hands the staff, a
+dozen feet long. She was threshing the fruit from the tree with
+astounding energy and agility, her scanty rags blown by the wind,
+and her emaciated, naked figure in its arboreal surroundings like
+that of an aged ape.</p>
+
+<p>How she held on was a mystery, for she seemed to lean out from a
+limb at a right angle, yet she had but a toe-hold upon it. No part
+of her body but her feet touched the branch, nor had she any other
+support but that, yet she banged the staff about actively and sent
+more six-pounders down, so that I fled without further reflection.</p>
+
+<p>The score of houses strung along the upper reaches of Atuona Valley
+were silent at this hour, and everywhere native houses were decaying,
+their falling walls and sunken roofs remembering the thousands who
+once had their homes here. Occasionally in our own country we see
+houses untenanted and falling to ruin, bearing unmistakable
+evidences of death or desertion, and I have followed armies that
+devastated a countryside and slew its people or hunted them to the
+hills, but the first is a solitary case, and the second, though full
+of horror, has at least the element of activity, of moving and
+struggling life. The rotting homes of the Marquesan people speak
+more eloquently of death than do sunken graves.</p>
+
+<p>In these vales, which each held a thousand or several thousand when
+the blight of the white man came, the abandoned <i>paepaes</i> are solemn
+and shrouded witnesses of the death of a race. The jungle runs over
+them, and only remnants remain of the houses that sat upon them.
+Their owners have died, leaving no posterity to inhabit their homes;
+neighbors have removed their few chattels, and the wilderness has
+claimed its own. In every valley these dark monuments to the
+benefits of civilization hide themselves in the thickets.</p>
+
+<p>None treads the stones that held the houses of the dead. They are
+<i>tapu</i>; about them flit the <i>veinahae</i>, the <i>matiahae</i>, and the
+<i>etuahae</i>, dread vampires and ghosts that have charge of the
+corpse and wait to seize the living. Well have these ghoulish
+phantoms feasted; whole islands are theirs, and soon they will sit
+upon the <i>paepae</i> of the last Marquesan.</p>
+
+<p>I reached the top of the gulch and paused to gaze at its extent. The
+great hills rose sheer and rugged a mile away; the cocoanuts ceased
+at a lower level, and where I stood the precipices were a mass of
+wild trees, bushes, and creepers. From black to lightest green the
+colors ran, from smoky crests and gloomy ravines to the stream
+singing its way a hundred feet below the trail.</p>
+
+<p>A hundred varieties of flowers poured forth their perfume upon the
+lonely scene. The frangipani, the red jasmine of delicious odor, and
+tropical gardenias, weighted the warm air with their heavy scents.</p>
+
+<p>Beside the trail grew the <i>hutu</i>-tree with crimson-tasseled flowers
+among broad leaves, and fruit prickly and pear-shaped. It is a fruit
+not to be eaten by man, but immemorally used by lazy fishermen to
+insure miraculous draughts. Streams are dammed up and the pears
+thrown in. Soon the fish become stupified and float upon the surface
+to the gaping nets of the poisoners. They are not hurt in flavor or
+edibility.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>keoho</i>, a thorny shrub, caught at my clothes as I left the trail.
+Its weapons of defence serve often as pins for the native, who in
+the forest improvises for himself a hat or umbrella of leaves.
+Beside me, too, was the <i>putara</i>, a broad-leaved bush and the lemon
+hibiscus, with its big, yellow flower, black-centered, was twisted
+through these shrubs and wound about the trunk of the giant <i>aea</i>, in
+whose branches the <i>kuku</i> murmured to its mate. Often the flowering
+vine stopped my progress. I struggled to free myself from its clutch
+as I fought through the mass of vegetation, and pausing perforce to
+let my panting lungs gulp the air, I saw around me ever new and
+stranger growths&mdash;orchids, giant creepers, the <i>noni enata</i>, a small
+bush with crimson pears upon it, the <i>toa</i>, or ironwood, which gave
+deadly clubs in war-time, but now spread its boughs peacefully
+amidst the prodigal foliage of its neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>The umbrella fern, <i>mana-mana-hine</i>, was all about. The <i>ama</i>, the
+candlenut-tree, shed its oily nuts on the earth. The <i>puu-epu</i>, the
+paper mulberry, with yellow blossoms and cottony, round leaves,
+jostled pandanus and hibiscus; the <i>ena-vao</i>, a wild ginger with
+edible, but spicy, cones, and the lacebark-tree, the <i>faufee</i>, which
+furnishes cordage from its bark, contested for footing in the rich
+earth and fought for the sun that even on the brightest day never
+reached their roots.</p>
+
+<p>I staggered through the bush, falling over rotten trees and
+struggling in the mass of shrubs and tangled vines.</p>
+
+<p>Away up here, hidden in the depths of the forest, there were three
+or four houses; not the blue-painted or whitewashed cabins of the
+settlement, but half-open native cots, with smoke rising from the
+fire made in a circle of stones on the <i>paepaes</i>. The hour of sleep
+had passed, and squatted before the troughs men and women mashed the
+<i>ma</i> for the <i>popoi</i>, or idled on the platform in red and yellow
+<i>pareus</i>, watching the roasting breadfruit. There must be
+poverty-stricken folk indeed, for I saw that the houses showed no
+sign whatever of the ugliness that the Marquesan has aped from the
+whites. Yet neither were they the wretched huts of straw and thatch
+which I had seen in the valley and supposed to be the only remnants
+of the native architecture.</p>
+
+<p>As I drew nearer, I saw that I had stumbled upon such a house as the
+Marquesan had known in the days of his strength, when pride of
+artistry had created wonderful and beautiful structures of native
+wood adorned in elegant and curious patterns.</p>
+
+<p>It was erected upon a <i>paepae</i> about ten feet high, reached by a
+broad and smooth stairway of similar massive black rocks. The house,
+long and narrow, covered all of the <i>paepae</i> but a veranda in front,
+the edge of which was fenced with bamboo ingeniously formed into
+patterns of squares. A friendly call of &ldquo;<i>Kaoha!</i>&rdquo; in response to
+mine, summoned me to the family meeting-place, and I mounted the
+steps with eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>I was met by a stalwart and handsome savage, in earrings and
+necklace and scarlet <i>pareu</i>, who rubbed my nose with his and
+smelled me ceremoniously, welcoming me as an honored guest. Several
+women followed his example, while naked children ran forward
+curiously to look at the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Learning the interest and admiration I felt for his house, my host
+displayed it with ill-concealed pride. Its frame was of the
+largest-sized bamboos standing upright, and faced with hibiscus
+strips, all lashed handsomely and strongly with <i>faufee</i> cordage.
+Upon this framework were set the walls, constructed of canes arranged
+in a delicate pattern, the fastenings being of <i>purau</i> or other
+rattan-like creepers, all tied neatly and regularly. As the
+residence was only about a dozen feet deep, through three times that
+length, these walls were not only attractive but eminently
+serviceable, the canes shading the interior, and the interstices
+between them admitting ample light and air.</p>
+
+<p>We entered through a low opening and found the one long chamber
+spacious, cool, and perfumed with the forest odors. There were no
+furnishings save two large and brilliantly polished cocoanut-tree
+trunks running the whole length of the interior, and between them
+piles of mats of many designs and of every bright hue that roots and
+herbs will yield.</p>
+
+<p>While I admired these, noting their rich colors and soft, yet firm,
+texture, a murmurous rustle on the palm-thatched roof announced the
+coming of the rain. It was unthinkable to my host that a stranger
+should leave his house at nightfall, and in a downpour that might
+become a deluge before morning. To have refused his invitation had
+been to leave a pained and bewildered household.</p>
+
+<p><i>Popoi</i> bowls and wooden platters of the roasted breadfruit were
+brought within shelter, and while the hissing rain put out the fires
+on the <i>paepae</i> the candlenuts were lighted and all squatted for the
+evening meal. Breadfruit and yams, with a draught of cocoanut milk,
+satisfied the hunger created by my arduous climb. Then the women
+carried away the empty bowls while my host and I lay upon the mats
+and smoked, watching the gray slant of the rain through the
+darkening twilight.</p>
+
+<p>Few houses like his remained on Hiva-Oe, he said in reply to my
+compliments. The people loved the ways of the whites and longed for
+homes of redwood planks and roofs of iron. For himself, he loved the
+ways of his fathers, and though yielding as he must to the payments
+of taxes and the authority of new laws, he would not toil in the
+copra-groves or work on traders' ships. His father had been a
+warrior of renown. The <i>u'u</i> was wielded no more, being replaced by
+the guns of the whites. The old songs were forgotten. But he, who
+had traveled far, who had seen the capital of the world, Tahiti, and
+had learned much of the ways of the foreigner, would have none of
+them. He would live as his fathers had lived, and die as they had
+died.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not long. We vanish like the small fish before the hunger of
+the <i>mako</i>. The High Places are broken, and the <i>pahue</i> covers our
+<i>paepaes</i>. It does not matter. <i>E tupu te fau; e toro to farero, e
+mou te taata.</i> The hibiscus shall grow, the coral shall spread, and
+man shall cease. There is sleep on your eyelids, and the mats are
+ready.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His hospitality would give me the place of honor, despite my protests,
+and soon I found myself lying between my host and his wife, while
+the other members of the household lay in serried rank beyond her on
+the mats that filled the hollow between the palm-trunks. All slept
+with the backs of their heads upon one timber, and the backs of
+their knees over the other, but I found comfort on the soft pile
+between them. My companions slumbered peacefully, as I have remarked
+that men do in all countries where the people live near, and much in,
+the sea. There was no snoring or groaning, no convulsive movement of
+arms or legs, no grimaces or frowns such as mark the fitful sleep of
+most city dwellers and of all of us who worry or burn the candle at
+both ends.</p>
+
+<p>I lay listening for some time to their quiet breathing and the sound
+of rain drumming on the thatch, but at last my eyes closed, and only
+the dawn awoke me.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr21"></a>
+<a href="images/img21.jpg"><img src="images/thumb21.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Splitting cocoanut husks in copra making process</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr22"></a>
+<a href="images/img22.jpg"><img src="images/thumb22.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Cutting the meat from cocoanuts to make copra</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The household of Lam Kai Oo; copra making; marvels of the
+cocoanut-groves; the sagacity of pigs; and a crab that knows the
+laws of gravitation.</i></p>
+
+<p>Next morning, after bidding farewell to my hosts, I set out down the
+mountain in the early freshness of a sunny, rain-washed morning. I
+followed a trail new to me, a path steep as a stairway, walled in by
+the water-jeweled jungle pressing so close upon me that at times I
+saw the sky only through the interlacing fronds of the tree-ferns
+above my head.</p>
+
+<p>I had gone perhaps a mile without seeing any sign of human habitation,
+hearing only the conversation of the birds and the multitudinous
+murmuring of leaves, when a heavy shower began to fall. Pressing on,
+hampered by my clinging garments and slipping in the path that had
+instantly become a miniature torrent, I came upon a little clearing
+in which stood a dirty, dark shanty, like a hovel in the outskirts
+of Canton, not raised on a <i>paepae</i> but squat in an acre of mud and
+the filth of years.</p>
+
+<p>Two children, three or four years old, played naked in the muck, and
+Flower, of the red-gold hair, reputed the wickedest woman in the
+Marquesas, ironed her gowns on the floor of the porch. Raising her
+head, she called to me to come in.</p>
+
+<p>This was the house of Lam Kai Oo, the adopted father of Flower.
+Seventy-one years old, Lam Kai Oo had made this his home since he
+left the employ of Captain Hart, the unfortunate American cotton
+planter, and here he had buried three native wives. His fourth, a
+woman of twenty years, sat in the shelter of a copra shed nursing a
+six-months' infant. Her breasts were dark blue, almost black, a
+characteristic of nursing mothers here.</p>
+
+<p>Both the mother and Flower argued with me that I should make Many
+Daughters my wife during my stay in Atuona, and if not the leper lass,
+then another friend they had chosen for me. Flower herself had done
+me the honor of proposing a temporary alliance, but I had persuaded
+her that I was not worthy of her beauty and talents. Any plea that
+it was not according to my code, of even that it was un-Christian,
+provoked peals of laughter from all who heard it; sooth to say, the
+whites laughed loudest.</p>
+
+<p>Beneath a thatch of palm-leaves Lam Kai Oo was drying cocoanuts. His
+withered yellow body straddled a kind of bench, to which was fixed a
+sharp-pointed stick of iron-wood. Seizing each nut in his claw-like
+hands, he pushed it against this point, turning and twisting it as
+he ripped off the thick and fibrous husk. Then he cracked each nut
+in half with a well-directed blow of a heavy knife. For the best
+copra-making, the half-nuts should be placed in the sun, concave
+side up. As the meats begin to dry, they shrink away from the shell
+and are readily removed, being then copra, the foundation of the
+many toilet preparations, soaps and creams, that are made from
+cocoa-oil.</p>
+
+<p>As it rains much in the Marquesas, the drying is often done in ovens,
+though sun-dried copra commands a higher price. Lam Kai Oo was
+operating such an oven, a simple affair of stones cemented with mud,
+over which had been erected a shed of palm-trunks and thatch. The
+halved cocoanuts were placed in cups made of mud and laid on wooden
+racks above the oven. With the doors closed, a fire was built in the
+stone furnace and fed from the outside with cocoa-husks and brush.
+Such an oven does not dry the nuts uniformly. The smoke turns them
+dark, and oil made from them contains undesirable creosote.
+Hot-water pipes are the best source of heat, except the sun,
+but Lam Kai Oo was paying again for his poverty, as the poor
+man must do the world over.</p>
+
+<p>Forty-four years earlier he had left California, after having given
+seven years of his life to building American railways. The smoke of
+the Civil War had hardly cleared away when Captain Hart had
+persuaded him, Ah Yu and other California Chinese to come to Hiva-oa,
+and put their labor into his cotton plantations. Cannibalism was
+common at that date. I asked the old man if he had witnessed it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My see plenty fella eatee,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Kanaka no likee Chineeman.
+Him speak bad meatee.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He told me how on one occasion the Lord had saved him from drowning.
+With a lay brother of the Catholic Mission, he had been en route to
+Vait-hua in a canoe with many natives. There was to be a church feast,
+and Lam Kai Oo was carrying six hundred Chile <i>piastres</i> to back his
+skill against the natives in gambling; Lam, of course, to operate
+the wheel of supposed chance.</p>
+
+<p>The boat capsized in deep water. The lay brother could not swim, but
+was lifted to the keel of the upturned boat, while the others clung
+to its edges. He prayed for hours, while the others, lifting their
+faces above the storming waves, cried hearty amens to his
+supplications. Finally the waves washed them into shallow water. The
+brother gave earnest thanks for deliverance, but Lam thought that
+the same magic should give him back the six hundred pieces of silver
+that had gone into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My savee plenty Lord helpee you,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Allee samee, him hell
+to live when poor. Him Lord catchee Chile money, my givee fitty
+dolla churchee.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He sighed despairingly, and fed more cocoa-husks to his make-shift
+oven. The shower had passed, moving in a gray curtain down the valley,
+and picking my way through the mire of the yard, I followed it in
+the sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>My way led now through the cocoanut-groves that day and night make
+the island murmurous with their rustling. They are good company,
+these lofty, graceful palms, and I had grown to feel a real
+affection for them, such as a man has for his dog. Like myself, they
+can not live and flourish long unless they see the ocean. Their
+habit has more tangible reason than mine; they are dependent on air
+and water for life. The greater the column of water that flows daily
+up their stems and evaporates from the leaves, the greater the
+growth and productivity.</p>
+
+<p>Evaporation being in large measure dependent on free circulation of
+air, the best sites for cocoanut plantations are on the seashore,
+exposed to the winds. They love the sea and will grow with their
+boles dipped at high tide in the salt water.</p>
+
+<p>These trunks, three feet in diameter at the base and tapering
+smoothly and perfectly to perhaps twelve inches at the top, are in
+reality no more than pipes for conveying the water to the thirsty
+fronds. Cut them open, and one finds a vast number of hollow reeds,
+held together by a resinous pitch and guarded by a bark both thick
+and exceedingly hard. There is no branch or leaf except at the very
+tip of the trunk, where a symmetrical and gigantic bouquet of leaves
+appears, having plumes a dozen feet long or more, that nod with every
+zephyr and in storms sway and lash the tree as if they were living
+things.</p>
+
+<p>I used to wonder why these great leaves, the sport of the idlest
+breeze as well as the fiercest gale, were not torn from the tree,
+but when I learned to know the cocoanut palm as a dear friend I
+found that nature had provided for its survival on the wind-swept
+beaches with the same exquisite attention to individual need that is
+shown in the electric batteries and lights of certain fishes, or in
+the caprification of the fig. A very fine, but strong, matting,
+attached to the bark beneath the stalk, fastened half way around the
+tree and reaching three feet up the leaf, fixes it firmly to the
+trunk but gives it ample freedom to move. It is a natural brace,
+pliable and elastic.</p>
+
+<p>There is scarcely a need of the islander not supplied by these
+amiable trees. Their wood makes the best spars, furnishes rafters
+and pillars for native houses, the knee- and head-rests of their beds,
+rollers for the big canoes or whale-boats, fences against wild pig,
+and fuel. The leaves make screens and roofs of dwellings, baskets,
+and coverings, and in the pagan temples of Tahiti were the rosaries
+or prayer-counters, while on their stiff stalks the candlenuts are
+strung to give light for feasts or for feasting. When the tree is
+young the network that holds the leaves is a beautiful silver, as
+fine as India paper and glossy; narrow strips of it are used as hair
+ornaments and contrast charmingly with the black and shining locks
+of the girls. When older, this matting has every appearance of
+coarse cotton cloth, and is used to wrap food, or is made into bags
+and even rough garments, specially for fishermen.</p>
+
+<p>The white flowers are small and grow along a branching stalk,
+protected by a sheath, and just above the commencement of the leaf.
+From them is made the cocoanut-brandy that enables the native to
+forget his sorrows. Flowers and nuts in every stage of development
+are on the same tree, a year elapsing between the first blossom and
+the ripe nut. Long before it is ripe, but after full size has been
+attained, the nut contains a pint or even a quart of delicious juice,
+called milk, water, or wine, in different languages. It is clear as
+spring water, of a delicate acidity, yet sweet, and no idea of its
+taste can be formed from the half-rancid fluid in the ripe nuts sold
+in Europe or America. It must be drunk soon after being taken from
+the tree to know its full delights, and must have been gathered at
+the stage of growth called <i>koie</i>, when there is no pulp within the
+shell.</p>
+
+<p>Not long after this time the pulp, white as snow, of the consistency
+and appearance of the white of a soft-boiled egg, forms in a thin
+layer about the walls of the nut. This is a delicious food, and from
+it are made many dishes, puddings, and cakes. It is no more like the
+shredded cocoanut of commerce than the peach plucked from the tree
+is like the tinned fruit.</p>
+
+<p>The pulp hardens and thickens as time goes on, and finally is an
+inch in thickness. Occasionally the meat when hard and ripe is
+broiled and eaten. I like it fairly well served in this fashion.</p>
+
+<p>If left on the tree, the nut will in time fall, and in due course
+there begins in it a marvelous process of germination. A sweet,
+whitish sponge forms in the interior, starting from the inner end of
+the seed enclosed in the kernel, opposite one of the three eyes in
+the smaller end of the nut. This sponge drinks up all the liquid, and,
+filling the inside, melts the hard meat, absorbs it, and turns it
+into a cellular substance, while a white bud, hard and powerful,
+pushes its way through one of the eyes of the shell, bores through
+several inches of husk, and reaches the air and light.</p>
+
+<p>This bud now unfolds green leaves, and at the same period two other
+buds, beginning at the same point, find their way to the two other
+eyes and pierce them, turning down instead of up, and forcing their
+way through the former husk outside the shell, enter the ground.
+Though no knife could cut the shell, the life within bursts it open,
+and husk and shell decay and fertilize the soil beside the new roots,
+which, within five or six years, have raised a tree eight or nine
+feet high, itself bearing nuts to reproduce their kind again.</p>
+
+<p>All about me on the fertile soil, among decaying leaves and
+luxuriant vines, I saw these nuts, carrying on their mysterious and
+powerful life in the unheeded forest depths. Here and there a
+half-domestic pig was harrying one with thrusting snout. These pigs,
+which we think stupid, know well that the sun will the sooner cause
+a sprouting nut to break open, and they roll the fallen nut into the
+sunlight to hasten their stomachs' gratification, though with
+sufficient labor they can get to the meat with their teeth.</p>
+
+<p>There is a crab here, too, that could teach even the wisest,
+sun-employing pig some tricks in economics. He is the last word in
+adaptation to environment, with an uncanny knowledge that makes the
+uninformed look askance at the tale-teller. These crabs climb
+cocoanut-trees to procure their favorite food. They dote on cocoanuts,
+the ripe, full-meated sort. They are able to enjoy them by various
+endeavors demanding strength, cleverness, an apparent understanding
+of the effect of striking an object against a harder one, and of the
+velocity caused by gravity. Nuts that resist their attempts to open
+them, they carry to great heights, to drop them and thus break their
+shells.</p>
+
+<p>These crabs are called by the scientists <i>Birgos latro</i>, by the
+Marquesans <i>tupa</i>, by the Paumotans <i>kaveu</i>, and by the Tahitians,
+<i>ua vahi haari</i>. It was a never-failing entertainment on my walks
+in the Paumotas to observe these great creatures, light-brown or
+reddish in color, more than two feet in length, stalking about with
+their bodies a foot from the ground, supported by two pairs of
+central legs. They can exist at least twenty-four hours without
+visiting the water, of which they carry a supply in reservoirs on
+both sides of the cephalothorax, keeping their gills moist.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr23"></a>
+<a href="images/img23.jpg"><img src="images/thumb23.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A Marquesan home on a <i>paepae</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr24"></a>
+<a href="images/img24.jpg"><img src="images/thumb24.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Isle of Barking Dogs</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>They live in large deep burrows in the cocoanut-groves, which they
+fill with husks, so that the natives often rob them to procure a
+quick supply of fuel. These dens are contrived for speedy entry when
+pursued. Terrifying as they appear when surprised on land, they
+scuttle for safety either to a hole or to the sea, with an agility
+astounding in a creature so awkward in appearance. Though they may
+be seen about at all hours of the day, they make forays upon the
+cocoanuts only at night.</p>
+
+<p>Darwin first saw these creatures in the Indian Ocean, and said that
+they seek the sea every night to moisten their branchiae. The young
+are hatched and live for some time on the sea-coast, venturing far
+from water only as they grow older. Darwin said that their feat in
+entering the cocoanut &ldquo;is as curious a case of instinct as was ever
+heard of, and likewise of adaptation in structure between two
+objects apparently so remote from each other in the scheme of nature,
+as a crab and a cocoanut-tree.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When darkness descends and all is quiet, the robber crab ascends the
+tree by gripping the bark with his claws. The rays of my electric
+flash-light have often caught him high over my head against the gray
+palm. Height does not daunt him. He will go up till he reaches the
+nuts, if it be a hundred feet. With his powerful nippers he severs
+the stem, choosing always a nut that is big and ripe. Descending the
+palm, he tears off the fibrous husk, which, at first thought, it
+would seem impossible for him to do. He tears it fiber by fiber, and
+always from that end under which the three eye-holes are situated.
+With these exposed, he begins hammering on one of them until he has
+enlarged the opening so that he can insert one of the sharp points
+of his claw into it. By turning his claw backward and forward he
+scoops out the meat and regales himself luxuriously.</p>
+
+<p>This is his simplest method, along the line of least resistance, but
+let the nut be refractory, and he seizes it by the point of a claw
+and beats it against a rock until he smashes it. This plan failing,
+he will carry the stubborn nut to the top of the tree again and hurl
+it to the earth to crack it. And if at first he does not succeed, he
+will make other trips aloft with the husked nut, dropping it again
+and again until at last it is shattered and lies open to his claws.</p>
+
+<p>It is said that if a drop of oil be placed on the long and delicate
+antennae of these crabs they die almost instantly. We have a
+somewhat similar rumor with respect to salt and a bird's tail.
+Seldom does a robber crab linger to be oiled, and so other means of
+destroying him, or, at least, of guarding against his depredations,
+are sought. With the rat, who bites the flower and gnaws the young
+nuts, this crab is the principal enemy of the planter. The tree
+owner who can afford it, nails sheets of tin or zinc around the tree
+a dozen feet from the earth. Neither rat nor crab can pass this
+slippery band, which gives no claw-hold. Thousands of trees are thus
+protected, but usually these are in possession of white men, for tin
+is costly and the native is poor.</p>
+
+<p>The ingenious native, however, employs another means of saving the
+fruit of his groves. He climbs the palm-trunk in the daytime, and
+forty feet above the ground encircles it with dirt and leaves. On
+his mat for the night's slumber, he smiles to think of the revenge
+he shall have. For the crab ascends and passes the puny barrier to
+select and fell his nuts, but when in his backward way he descends,
+he forgets the curious bunker he went over and, striking it again,
+thinks he has reached the ground. He lets go, and smashes on the
+rocks his crafty foe has piled below.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Visit of Le Moine; the story of Paul Gauguin; his house, and a
+search for his grave beneath the white cross of Calvary.</i></p>
+
+<p>I rose one morning from my Golden Bed to find a stranger quietly
+smoking a cigarette on my <i>paepae</i>. Against the jungle background he
+was a strangely incongruous figure; a Frenchman, small, thin,
+meticulously neat in garments of faded blue denim and shining high
+boots. His blue eyes twinkled above a carefully trimmed beard, and
+as he rose to meet me, I observed that the fingers on the cigarette
+were long, slender, and nervous.</p>
+
+<p>This was Monsieur Charles le Moine, the painter from Vait-hua, whose
+studio I had invaded in his absence from that delightful isle. We
+sat long over breakfast coffee and cigarettes, I, charmed by his
+conversation, he, eager to hear news of the world he had forsaken.
+He had studied in Paris, been governor of the Gambier Islands, and
+at last had made his final home among the palms and orchids of these
+forgotten isles. His life had narrowed to his canvases, on which he
+sought to interpret Marquesan atmosphere and character, its beauty
+and savage lure.</p>
+
+<p>I said to him that it was a pity many great painters did not come
+here to put on canvas the fading glamor and charm of the Marquesas.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our craft is too poor,&rdquo; he replied with a sigh. &ldquo;A society built on
+money does not give its artists and singers the freedom they had in
+the old days in these islands, my friend. We are bound to a wheel
+that turns relentlessly. Who can come from France and live here
+without money? Me, I must work as gendarme and school-teacher to be
+able to paint even here. One great painter did live in this valley,
+and died here&mdash;Paul Gauguin. He was a master, my friend!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Paul Gauguin lived here?&rdquo; I exclaimed. I had known, of course, that
+the great modernist had died in the Marquesas, but I had never heard
+in which valley, and no one in Atuona had spoken of him. In Florence
+I had met an artist who possessed two glass doors taken from Madame
+Charbonnier's house and said to have been painted by Gauguin in
+payment for rent. I had been in Paris when all artistic France was
+shuddering or going into ecstacies over Gauguin's blazing tropic work,
+when his massive, crude figures done in violent tones, filled with
+sinister power, had been the conversation of galleries and saloons.</p>
+
+<p>Strindberg wrote of Gauguin's first exhibition and expressed dislike
+for the artist's prepossession with form, and for the savage models
+he chose. Gauguin's reply was:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your civilization is your disease; my barbarism is my restoration
+to health. I am a savage. Every human work is a revelation of the
+individual. All I have learned from others has been an impediment to
+me. I know little, but what I do know is my own.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now I learned from the lips of Le Moine that this man had lived and
+died in my own valley of Atuona, had perhaps sat on this <i>paepae</i>
+where we were breakfasting. Imagination kindled at the thought.
+&ldquo;I will take you to his house,&rdquo; said Le Moine.</p>
+
+<p>We walked down the road past the governor's palace until opposite
+Baufré's depressing abode, where, several hundred yards back from a
+stone wall, sunk in the mire of the swamp, had for ten years been
+Gauguin's home and studio. Nothing remained of it but a few faint
+traces rapidly disappearing beneath the jungle growth.</p>
+
+<p>While we stood in the shade of a cocoanut-palm, gazing at these, we
+were joined by Baufré, the shaggy and drink-ruined Frenchman, in his
+torn and dirty overalls.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This weather is devilish,&rdquo; said Baufré, with a curse. &ldquo;It is not as
+it used to be. The world goes to the devil. There were seven hundred
+people in Atuona when I came here. They are all dead but two hundred,
+and there is nobody to help me in my plantation. If I pay three
+francs a day, they will not work. If I pay five francs, they will
+not work. Suppose I give them rum? They will work hard for that, for
+it means forgetting, but when they drink rum they cannot work at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you are a philosopher, and absinthe or rum will cure you,&rdquo; said
+Le Moine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon dieu!</i> I am not a philosopher!&rdquo; retorted Baufré. &ldquo;Of what good
+is that? Gauguin was a philosopher, and he is dead and buried on
+Calvary. You know how he suffered? His feet and legs were very bad.
+Every day he had to tie them up. He could not wear shoes, but he
+painted, and drank absinthe, and injected the morphine into his belly,
+and painted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Sapristi!</i> He was a brave one! Am I not here over thirty years,
+and have I met a man like Gauguin? He never worried. He painted. The
+dealer in Paris sent him five hundred francs a month, and he gave
+away everything. He cared only for paint. And now he is gone.
+<i>Regardez</i>, here is where his house stood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We walked through the matted grass that sketched upon the fertile
+soil the shape of that house where Gauguin had painted.</p>
+
+<p>It had been raised from the marsh six feet on trunks of trees, and
+was about forty-five feet long and twenty wide. The floor was of
+planks, and one climbed a stairway to reach the veranda. The frame
+of the house was of wood, but the sides all of split bamboo, with a
+row of windows of glass and a roof of cocoanut thatch. The light
+entered from the north, and except for a small chamber for sleeping
+and a closet for provisions, the entire house was a studio, a lofty,
+breeze-swept hall, the windows high up admitting light, but not the
+hot sunshine, and the expanse of bamboo filtering the winds in their
+eternal drift from south to north and north to south.</p>
+
+<p>Below the floor, on the ground, was a room for work in sculpture, in
+which medium Gauguin took much interest, using clay and wood, the
+latter both for bas-relief and full relief, Gauguin being hampered,
+Baufré said, by lack of plasticity in the native clay. Next to this
+workroom was a shelter for the horse and cart, for Gauguin had the
+only wheeled vehicle in the Marquesas.</p>
+
+<p>Baufré exhausted all his rhetoric and used four sheets of foolscap
+in his endeavor to make me see these surroundings of the artist,
+whom he evidently considered a great man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Five hundred francs a month, <i>mon ami</i>, whether he painted or not!
+But he was a worker. Drunk or sober, he would paint. <i>Oui</i>, I have
+seen him with a bottle of absinthe in him, and still he would paint.
+Early in the morning he was at work at his easel in the studio or
+under the trees, and every day he painted till the light was gone.
+His only use for the cart was to carry him and his easel and chair
+to scenes he would paint. He would shoot that accursed morphine into
+his belly when the pain was too bad, and he would drink wine and
+talk and paint.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He had no wife or woman, but he took one in the way of the white
+man here now and then. He lived alone, save for a half-Chinese boy
+who cooked and cleaned for him. He never said he was sick. There was
+no doctor on this island, for the government was then at Nuka-hiva,
+and he had no time to go there. He suffered terribly, but he never
+complained. &lsquo;Life is short,&rsquo; he would say, &lsquo;and there is not long to
+paint.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He would not talk politics, but after the light was gone he would
+sit at the organ in his studio and make one cry with his music. When
+at home he wore only a <i>pareu</i>, but he would put on trousers when he
+went out. He worked and drank and injected his morphine, and one
+morning when the boy came he found him dead, and he was smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The government hated him because he cursed it for not letting the
+natives keep their customs. The church hated him because he
+ridiculed it. Still, they buried him in the Catholic cemetery. I
+went with the body, and four Marquesans carried it up the trail.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The government sold his house to Gedge, and Gedge sold it to a
+native, who tore it down for the materials. It was of no use to any
+one, for it was built for an artist.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Vous savez; mon garçon</i>, I am not acquainted with pictures, and
+have never seen any but his, but I felt that they were good. They
+made one feel the sun. There was in them the soul of these islands.
+And you know that Polonaise, with the one eye-glass, that lives in
+Papeite, that Krajewsky? <i>Eh bien!</i> he was here to buy these stone
+images of gods, and he said that in Paris they were paying tens of
+thousands of francs for those things of Gauguin's he would have
+given me for the asking. Ah well! he had the head and he was a
+philosopher, but he lies up there in Calvary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Le Moine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon ami</i>,&rdquo; said the shaggy man, &ldquo;I go to church, and you and I and
+Gauguin are the same kind of Catholic. We don't do what we pray for.
+That man was smarter than you or me, and the good God will forgive
+him whatever he did. He paid everybody, and Chassognal of Papeite
+found seven hundred francs in a book where he had carelessly laid it.
+If he drank, he shared it, and he paid his women.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was an atheist,&rdquo; persisted Le Moine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Atheist!&rdquo; echoed Baufré. &ldquo;He believed in making beautiful pictures,
+and he was not afraid of God or of the mission. How do you know what
+God likes? Mathieu Scallamera built the church here and the mission
+houses, and he is dead, and all his family are lepers. Did God do
+that? <i>Non! Non!</i> You and I know nothing about that. You like to
+drink. Your woman is tattooed, and we are both men and bad. Come and
+have a drink?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We left him beside the road and walked slowly beneath the arch of
+trees toward the mountain whose summit was crowned by the white
+cross of Calvary graveyard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He drank too much, he took morphine, he was mortally ill, and yet
+he painted. Those chaps who have to have leisure and sandal-wood
+censors might learn from that man,&rdquo; said Le Moine. &ldquo;He was a pagan
+and he saw nature with the eyes of a pagan god, and he painted it as
+he saw it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I reminded him of James Huneker's words about Gauguin: &ldquo;He is yet
+for the majority, though he may be the Paint God of the Twentieth
+century. Paint was his passion. With all his realism, he was a
+symbolist, a master of decoration.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Past the governor's mansion, we turned sharply up the hill. Apart
+from all other dwellings, on a knoll, stood a Marquesan house. As we
+followed the steep trail past it, I called, &ldquo;<i>Kaoha!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I hea?</i>&rdquo; said a woman, &ldquo;<i>Karavario?</i> Where do you go? To Calvary?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a sad astonishment in her tone, that we should make the
+arduous climb to the cemetery where no dead of ours lay interred.</p>
+
+<p>A fairly broad trail wound about the hill, the trail over which the
+dead and the mourners go, and the way was through a vast
+cocoanut-orchard, the trees planted with absolute regularity lifting
+their waving fronds seventy or eighty feet above the earth. There
+was no underbrush between the tall gray columns of the palms, only a
+twisted vegetation covered the ground, and the red volcanic soil of
+the trail, cutting through the green, was like a smear of blood.</p>
+
+<p>The road was long and hot. Halting near the summit, we looked upward,
+and I was struck with emotion as when in the courtyard I saw the
+group of the crucifixion. A cross forty feet high, with a Christ
+nailed upon it, all snow-white, stood up against the deep blue sky.
+It was like a note of organ music in the great gray cathedral of the
+palms.</p>
+
+<p>Another forty minutes climbing brought us to the foot of the white
+symbol. A half-acre within white-washed palings, like any country
+graveyard, lay on the summit of the mountain.</p>
+
+<p>To find Gauguin's grave we began at the entrance and searched row by
+row. The graves were those of natives, mounds marked by small stones
+along the sides, with crosses of rusted iron filigree showing skulls
+and other symbols of death, and a name painted in white, mildewing
+away. Farther on were tombs of stone and cement, primitive and
+massive, defying the elements. Upon one was graven, &ldquo;<i>Ci Git Daniel
+Vaimai, Kata-Kita</i>, 1867&ndash;1907. R.I.P.&rdquo; The grave of a catechist, a
+native assistant to the priests. Beneath another lay &ldquo;August Jorss,&rdquo;
+he who had ordered the Golden Bed in which I slept. Most conspicuous
+of all was a mausoleum surrounded by a high, black, iron railing
+brought from France. On this I climbed to read while perched on the
+points:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ici repose Mg. Illustrissime et Reverendissime</i> Rog. Jh. Martin,&rdquo;
+and much more in Latin and French. It was the imposing grave of the
+Bishop of Uranopolis, vicar-apostolic to the Marquesas, predecessor
+to Bishop le Cadre, who had no pride and whom all called plain
+Father David.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly rain poured down upon us, and looking about to find a
+shelter we saw a straw penthouse over a new and empty grave lined
+with stones. We huddled beneath it, our faces toward the sea, and
+while the heavy rain splashed above our heads and water rushed down
+the slope, we gazed in silence at the magnificent panorama below.</p>
+
+<p>We were directly above the Bay of Traitors, that arm of the sea
+which curved into the little bays of Taka-Uka and Atuona. At one side,
+a mere pinnacle through the vapor about his throat, rose the rugged
+head of Temetiu, and ranged below him the black fastnesses of the
+valleys he commands. In the foreground the cocoas, from the rocky
+headlands to the gate of Calvary, stood like an army bearing palms
+of victory. In rows and circles, plats and masses, the gray trunks
+followed one another from sea to mountain, yielding themselves to
+the storm, swaying gently, and by some trick of wind and rain
+seeming to march toward the cross-crowned summit.</p>
+
+<p>The flimsy thatch under which we crouched, put up only to keep the
+sun from the grave-digger, bent to north and south, and threatened
+to wing away. But suddenly the shower ran away in a minute, as if it
+had an engagement elsewhere, and the sun shone more brightly in the
+rain-washed air.</p>
+
+<p>We continued our search, but uselessly. Hohine and Mupui had
+advertisement of their last mortal residence, but not Gauguin. We
+found an earring on one little tomb where a mother had laid her child,
+and on several those <i>couronnes des perles</i>, stiff, ugly wreaths
+brought from France, with &ldquo;Sincere Regrets&rdquo; in raised beads,
+speaking pityfully of the longing of the simple islanders to do
+honor to the memory of their loved ones. But the grave of Gauguin,
+the great painter, was unmarked. If a board had been placed at its
+head when he was buried, it had rotted away, and nothing was left to
+indicate where he was lying.</p>
+
+<p>The hibiscus was blood-red on the sunken graves, and cocoanuts
+sprouted in the tangled grass. Palms shut out from the half-acre had
+dropped their nuts within it, and the soil, rich in the ashes of man,
+was endeavoring to bring forth fairer fruit than headstones and iron
+crosses. The <i>pahue</i>, a lovely, long, creeping vine that wanders on
+the beaches to the edge of the tides, had crawled over many graves,
+and its flowers, like morning-glories, hung their purple bells on
+the humbler spots that no hand sought to clear.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps under these is the dust of the painter who, more than any
+other man, made the Marquesas known to the world of Europe.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Death of Aumia; funeral chant and burial customs; causes for the
+death of a race.</i></p>
+
+<p>On the <i>paepae</i> of a poor cabin near my own lived two women, Aumia
+and Taipi, in the last stages of consumption. Aumia had been, only a
+few months earlier, the beauty of the island.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She was one of the gayest,&rdquo; said Haabunai, &ldquo;but the <i>pokoko</i> has
+taken her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was pitifully thin when I first saw her, lying all day on a heap
+of mats, with Taipi beside her, both coughing, coughing. An epidemic
+of colds had seized Atuona, brought, most probably, by the schooner
+<i>Papeite</i>, for no other had arrived since the <i>Morning Star</i>.
+Aumia coughed at night, her neighbor took it up, and then, like
+laughter in a school, it became impossible to resist, and down to
+the beach and up to the heights the valley echoed with the
+distressing sounds. So, a breadfruit season ago, had Aumia coughed
+for the first time, and the way she was going would be followed by
+many of my neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>I stopped every day to chat a moment with Aumia, and to bring her
+the jam or marmalade she liked, and was too poor to buy from the
+trader's store. She asked me this day if I had seen her grave. She
+had heard I had visited the cemetery, and I must describe it to her.
+It was the grave over which Le Moine and I had crouched from the
+storm.</p>
+
+<p>Aumia's husband and Haabunai, with Great Fern, had dug it and paved
+it a couple of days ago, and her husband had given the others a pig
+for their work, slaughtering it on the tomb of the Bishop of
+Uranopolis. No thought of profanation had entered their minds; it
+was convenient to lay the pig over the imposing monument, with a man
+on either side holding the beast and the butcher free-handed. The
+carcass had been denuded of hair in a pail of hot water and buried
+underground with fire below and above him. When the meat was well
+done, I had a portion of it, and Sister Serapoline, who had come in
+her black nun's habit to console Aumia with the promises of the
+church, ate with us, and accepted a haunch for the nun's house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aumia is able to eat pig, and yet they have made her grave,&rdquo; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, <i>c'est ça!</i>&rdquo; replied the nun, holding the haunch carefully.
+&ldquo;That is the custom. Always they used to dig them near the house, so
+that the sick person might see the grave, and in its digging the
+sick had much to say, and enjoyed it. Now, <i>grâce à dieu!</i> if
+Catholics, they are buried in consecrated ground where the body may
+rest serene until the trumpet sounds the final judgment. Death is
+terrible, but these Marquesans make no more of it than of a journey
+to another island, and much less than of a voyage to Tahiti. They
+die as peacefully as a good Catholic who is sure of his crown in
+Heaven. And as they are children, only children, the wisest or the
+worst of them, the Good God will know how to count their sins. It is
+those who scandalize them who shall pay dear, those wicked whites
+who have forsaken God, or who worship him in false temples.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The coffin of Aumia was then beside the house, turned over so that
+rain might not make it unpresentable. She had asked for it weeks
+before. To the Marquesan his coffin is as important as, to us, the
+house the newly-married pair are to live in. These people know that
+almost every foot of their land holds the bones or dust of a corpse,
+and this remnant of a race, overwhelmed by tragedy, can look on
+death only as a relief from the oppression of alien and
+unsympathetic white men. They go to the land of the <i>tupapaus</i> as
+calmly as to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have never seen a Marquesan afraid to die,&rdquo; said Sister Serapoline.
+&ldquo;I have been at the side of many in their last moments. It is a
+terrible thing to die, but they have no fear at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The husband of Aumia, a jolly fellow of thirty, was practising on a
+drum for the entertainment of his wife. He said that the corpse of
+his grandfather, a chief, had been oiled and kept about the house
+until it became mummified. This, he said, had been quite the custom.
+The body was washed very thoroughly, and rubbed with cocoanut-oil.
+It was laid in the sun, and members of the family appointed to turn
+it many times a day, so that all parts might be subjected to an even
+heat. The anointing with oil was repeated several times daily. Weeks
+or months of this process reduced the corpse to a mummified condition,
+and if it were the body of a chief it was then put in his canoe and
+kept for years in a ceremonial way. But no mark was ever placed to
+show where the dead were buried, and there were no funeral ceremonies.
+Better that none knew where the body was laid and that the chosen
+friends who carried it to the sepulchre forgot the spot.</p>
+
+<p>In the very old days the Marquesans interred the dead secretly in
+the night at the foot of great trees. Or they carried the bodies to
+the mountains and in a rocky hole shaded by trees covered them over
+and made the grave as much as possible like the surrounding soil.
+The secret of the burial-place was kept inviolate. Aumia's husband
+related an instance of a man who in the darkest night climbed a
+supposedly inaccessible precipice carrying the body of his young
+wife lashed to his back, to place it carefully on a lofty shelf and
+descend safely.</p>
+
+<p>These precautions came probably from a fear of profanation of the
+dead, perhaps of their being eaten by a victorious enemy. To
+devastate the cemeteries and temples of the foe was an aim of every
+invading tribe. It was considered that mutilating a corpse injured
+the soul that had fled from it.</p>
+
+<p>Afraid of no living enemy nor of the sea, meeting the shark in his
+own element and worsting him, fearlessly enduring the thrust of the
+fatal spear when an accident of battle left him defenseless, the
+Marquesan warrior, as much as the youngest child, had an unutterable
+horror of their own dead and of burial-places, as of the demons who
+hovered about them.</p>
+
+<p>Christianity has made no change in this, for it, too, is encumbered
+with such fears. Who of us but dreads to pass a graveyard at night,
+though even to ourselves we deny the fear? Banshees, werwolves and
+devils, the blessed candles lit to keep away the Evil One, or even
+to guard against wandering souls on certain feasts of the dead, were
+all part of my childhood. So to the Marquesan are the goblins that
+cause him to refuse to go into silent places alone at night, and
+often make him cower in fear on his own mats, a <i>pareu</i> over his head,
+in terror of the unknown.</p>
+
+<p>But death when it comes to him now is nothing, or it is a going to
+sleep at the end of a sad day. Aumia, eating her burial meats and
+looking with pleasure at her coffin, carefully and beautifully built
+by her husband's hands, smiled at me as serenely as a child. But the
+melancholy sound of her coughing followed me up the trail to the
+House of the Golden Bed.</p>
+
+<p>It was barely daylight next morning when I awoke, a soft, delicious
+air stirring the breadfruit leaves. I plunged into the river, and
+returning to my house was about to dress&mdash;that is, to put on my
+<i>pareu</i>&mdash;when a shriek arose from the forest. It was sudden, sharp,
+and agonizing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aumia mate i havaii</i>&rdquo; said Exploding Eggs, approaching to build
+the fire. Literally he said, &ldquo;Aumia is dead and gone below,&rdquo; for the
+Marquesans locate the spirit world below the earth's surface, as
+they do the soul below the belt.</p>
+
+<p>The wailing was accompanied shortly by a sound of hammering on boards.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The corpse goes into the coffin,&rdquo; said Exploding Eggs. The first
+nail had been driven but a moment after Aumia's last breath.</p>
+
+<p>All day the neighborhood was melancholy with the cries from the house.
+All the lamentations were in a certain tone, as if struck from the
+same instrument by the hand of sorrow. Each visitor to the house
+shrieked in the same manner, and all present accompanied her, so
+that for ten minutes after each new mourner arrived a chorus of loud
+wails and moans assailed my ears. I had never known such a
+heart-rending exhibition of grief.</p>
+
+<p>But the sorrow of these friends of Aumia was not genuine. It could
+not be; it was too dramatic. When they left the house the mourners
+laughed and lit cigarettes and pipes. If no new visitor came they
+fell to chatting and smoking, but the sight of a fresh and unharrowed
+person started them off again in their mechanical, though
+nerve-racking, cry.</p>
+
+<p>I had known Aumia well, and at noon, desiring to observe the
+proprieties, I stepped upon the <i>paepae</i> of her home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She loved the <i>Menike!</i>&rdquo; shouted the old women in chorus, and they
+threw themselves upon me and smelt me and made as if I had been one
+of the dead's husbands. The followed me up the trail to my cabin and
+sat on my <i>paepae</i> wailing and shrieking. It was some time before I
+realized that their poignant sorrow should force consolation from me.
+There was not a moan as the rum went round.</p>
+
+<p>I had puzzled at the exact repetition of their plaint. Harrowing as
+it was, the sounds were almost like a recitation of the alphabet. A
+woman who had adopted me as her nephew said they called it the
+&ldquo;<i>Ue haaneinei</i>&rdquo; That, literally, is &ldquo;to make a weeping on the side.&rdquo;
+The etiquette of it was intricate and precise. Each vowel was
+memorized with exactness. It ran, as my adopted aunt repeated it
+over her shell of consolation, thus:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ke ke ke ke ke ke ke ke ke!
+ A a a a a a a a a a a a a a!
+ E e e e e e e e e e e e e e e!
+ I i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i!
+ O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o!
+ U u u u u u u u u u u u u u u!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To omit a vowel, to say too many, or to mix their order, would be
+disrespect to the spirit of the dead, and a reflection on the mourner.
+Nine times the &ldquo;ke,&rdquo; fourteen &ldquo;a's,&rdquo; fifteen &ldquo;e's,&rdquo; eighteen
+&ldquo;i's&rdquo; and fifteen &ldquo;o's&rdquo; and &ldquo;u's.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Aumia was carried to Calvary in the afternoon and put in the grave
+for which the pig had been paid. So strongly did the old feeling
+still prevail that only three or four of her friends could be
+persuaded by the nuns to accompany the coffin up the trail.</p>
+
+<p>Exploding Egg's consignment of Aumia to Havaii, the underworld,
+spoke strongly of the clinging of his people to their old beliefs in
+the destiny of the spirit after death. They share with the Ainos of
+Japan&mdash;a people to which they have many likenesses, being of the
+same division of man&mdash;a faith in a subterranean future.</p>
+
+<p>Does not Socrates, in the dialogues of Plato, often speak of
+&ldquo;going to the world below,&rdquo; where he hopes to find real wisdom?</p>
+
+<p>Havaii or Havaiki is, of course, the fabled place whence came the
+Polynesians, as it is also the name of that underworld to which
+their spirits return after death. One might read into this fact a
+dim groping of the Marquesan mind toward &ldquo;From dust he came, to dust
+returneth,&rdquo; or, more likely, a longing of the exiled people for the
+old home they had abandoned. Ethnologists believe that the name
+refers to Java, the tarrying-point of the great migration of
+Caucasians from South Asia toward Polynesia and New Zealand, or to
+Savaii, a Samoan island whence the emigrants later dispersed.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever the origin of the word, to-day it conveys to the Marquesan
+mind only that vague region where the dead go. In it there is no
+suffering, either for good or bad souls. It is simply the place
+where the dead go. It is ruled by Po, the Darkness.</p>
+
+<p>There is, however, a paradise in an island in the clouds, where
+beautiful girls and great bowls of <i>kava</i>, with pigs roasted to a
+turn, await the good and brave. The old priests claimed to be able
+to help one from Po to this happy abode, but the living relatives of
+the departed spirit had to pay a heavy price for their services. The
+Christianized Marquesan fancies that he finds these old beliefs
+revived when Père David tells him of purgatory, from which prayers
+and certain good acts help one's friends, or may be laid up in
+advance against the day when one must himself descend to that middle
+state of souls.</p>
+
+<p>All Marquesans live in the shadow of that day. They see it without
+fear, but with a melancholy so tragic and deep that the sorrow of it
+is indescribable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have seen many go as Aumia has gone,&rdquo; said Father David to me.
+&ldquo;All these lovable races are dying. All Polynesia is passing. Some
+day the whites here will be left alone amid the ruins of plantations
+and houses, unless they bring in an alien race to take the places of
+the dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A hundred years ago there were a hundred and sixty thousand
+Marquesans in these islands. Twenty years ago there were four
+thousand. To-day I am convinced that there remain not twenty-one
+hundred.</p>
+
+<p>A century ago an American naval captain reckoned nineteen thousand
+fighting men on the island of Nuka-hiva alone. In a valley where
+three thousand warriors opposed him, there are to-day four adults. I
+visited Hanamate, an hour from Atuona, where fifty years ago
+hundreds of natives lived. Not one survived to greet me.</p>
+
+<p>Consumption came first to Hanavave, on the island of Fatu-hiva. One
+of the tribe of merciless American whaling captains having sent
+ashore a sailor dying of tuberculosis, the tattooed cannibals
+received him in a Christ-like manner, soothed his last hours, and
+breathed the germs that have carried off more than four-fifths of
+their race, and to-day are killing the remnant.</p>
+
+<p>The white man brought the Chinese, and with them leprosy. The
+Chinese were imported to aid the white in stealing the native land
+of the Marquesan, and to keep the Chinese contented, opium was
+brought with him. Finding it eagerly craved by the ignorant native,
+the foolish white fastened this vice also upon his other desired
+slave. The French Government, for forty thousand francs, licensed an
+opium farmer to sell the drug still faster, and not until alarmed by
+the results and shamed by the outcry in Europe, did it forbid the
+devastating narcotic. Too late!</p>
+
+<p>Smallpox came with a Peruvian slave-ship that stole thousands of the
+islanders and carried them off to work out their lives for the white
+in his own country. This ship left another more dread disease, which
+raged in the islands as a virulent epidemic, instead of running the
+slow chronic course it does nowadays when all the world has been
+poisoned by it.</p>
+
+<p>The healthy Marquesans had no anti-toxins in their pure blood to
+overcome the diseases which with us, hardened Europeans and
+descendants of Europeans, are not deadly. Here they raged and
+destroyed hundreds in a few days or weeks.</p>
+
+<p>The survivors of these pestilences, seeing their homes and villages
+desolated, their friends dying, their people perishing, supposed
+that these curses were inflicted upon them by the God of the
+foreigners and by the missionaries, who said that they were his
+servant. In their misery, they not only refused to listen to the
+gospels, but accused the missionaries in prayer before their own god,
+begging to be saved from them. Often when the missionaries appeared
+to speak to the people, the deformed and dying were brought out and
+laid in rows before them, as evidences of the evilness and cruelty of
+their white god.</p>
+
+<p>But after one has advanced all tangible reasons and causes for the
+depopulation of the Marquesas, there remains another, mysterious,
+intangible, but it may be, more potent than the others. The coming
+of the white has been deadly to all copper-colored races everywhere
+in the world. The black, the yellow, the Malay, the Asiatic and the
+negro flourish beside the white; the Polynesian and the red races of
+America perished or are going fast. The numbers of those dead from
+war and epidemics leave still lacking the full explanation of the
+fearful facts. Seek as far as you will, pile up figures and causes
+and prove them correct; there still remains to take into account the
+shadow of the white on the red.</p>
+
+<p>Prescott says:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>The American Indian has something peculiarly sensitive in
+his nature. He shrinks instinctively from the rude touch of a
+foreign hand. Even when this foreign influence comes in the
+form of civilization, he seems to sink and pine under it. It has
+been so with the Mexicans. Under the Spanish domination
+their numbers have silently melted away. Their energies are
+broken. They live under a better system of laws, a more
+assured tranquillity, a purer faith. But all does not avail.
+Their civilization was of the hardy character that belongs to
+the wilderness. Their hardy virtues were all their own. They
+refused to submit to European culture&mdash;to be engrafted on a
+foreign stock.</p>
+
+<p>Free! Understand that well, it is the deep commandment,
+dimmer or clearer, of our whole being, to be free. Freedom is
+the one purpose, wisely aimed at or unwisely, of all man's
+struggles, toilings, and sufferings, in this earth.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>I am persuaded that the Polynesians, from Hawaii to Tahiti, are
+dying because of the suppression of the play-instinct, an instinct
+that had its expression in most of their customs and occupations.
+Their dancing, their tattooing, their chanting, their religious rites,
+and even their warfare, had very visible elements of humor and
+joyousness. They were essentially a happy people, full of dramatic
+feeling, emotional, and with a keen sense of the ridiculous. The
+rule of the trader crushed all these native feelings.</p>
+
+<p>To this restraint was added the burden of the effort to live. With
+the entire Marquesan economic and social system disrupted, food was
+not so easily procurable, and they were driven to work by commands,
+taxes, fines, and the novel and killing incentives of rum and opium.
+The whites taught the men to sell their lives, and the women to sell
+their charms.</p>
+
+<p>Happiness and health were destroyed because the white man came here
+only to gratify his cupidity. The priests could bring no inspiration
+sufficient to overcome the degradation caused by the traders. The
+Marquesan saw that Jesus had small influence over their rulers.
+Civilization lost its opportunity because it gave precept, but no
+example.</p>
+
+<p>Even to-day, one white man in a valley sets the standard of sobriety,
+of kindness, and honor. Jensen, the frank and handsome Dane who
+works for the Germans at Taka-Uka who was in the breadline in New
+York and swears he will never return to civilization, told me that
+when he kept a store in Hanamenu, near Atuona, to serve the bare
+handful of unexterminated tribesmen there, the people imitated him
+in everything, his clothes, his gestures, his least-studied actions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was the only white. I planted a fern in a box. Every one came to
+my store and, feigning other reasons, asked for boxes. Soon every
+<i>paepae</i> had its box of ferns. I asked a man to snare four or five
+goats for me in the hills. They were the first goats tethered or
+enclosed in the valley. Within a week the mountains were harried for
+goats, and the village was noisy with their bleating. I ate my goats;
+they ate theirs. Not one was left. When I forsook Hanamenu, the
+whole population moved with me. Sure, I was decent to them, that was
+all.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never want to see the white man's country again. I have starved
+in the big cities, and worked like a dog for the banana trust in the
+West Indies. I have begged a cup of coffee in San Francisco, and
+been fanned by a cop's club. Here I make almost nothing, I have many
+friends and no superiors, and I am happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Had these lovable savages had a few fine souls to lead them, to
+shield them from the dregs of civilization heaped on them for a
+century, they might have developed into a wonder race to set a pace
+in beauty, courage, and natural power that would have surprised and
+helped Europe.</p>
+
+<p>They needed no physical regeneration. They were better born into
+health and purity&mdash;bloody as were some of their customs&mdash;than most
+of us. Their bodies had not become a burden on the soul, but, light
+and strong and unrestrained, were a part of it. They did not know
+that they had bodies; they only leaped, danced, flung themselves in
+and out of the sea, part of a large, happy, and harmonious universe.</p>
+
+<p>If to that superb, almost perfect, physical base that nature had
+given these Marquesans, to that sweetness simplicity, generosity,
+and trust acknowledged by all who know them, there could have been
+added a knowledge of the things we have learned; if by example and
+kindness they could have been given rounded and informed intelligence,
+what living there would have been in these islands!</p>
+
+<p>All they needed was a brother who walked in the sunlight and showed
+the way.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A savage dance, a drama of the sea, of danger and feasting; the rape
+of the lettuce.</i></p>
+
+<p>Drums were beating all the morning, thrilling the valley and
+mountain-sides with their barbaric <i>boom-boom</i>. The savage beat of
+them quickened the blood, stirring memories older than mankind,
+waking wild and primitive instincts. Toho's eyes gleamed, and her
+toes curled and uncurled like those of a cat, while she told me that
+the afternoon would see an old dance, a drama of the sea, of war,
+and feasting such as the islands had known before the whites came.</p>
+
+<p>The air thrummed with the resonance of the drums. All morning I sat
+alone on my <i>paepae</i>, hearing them beat. The sound carried one back
+to the days when men first tied the skins of animals about hollow
+tree-trunks and thumped them to call the naked tribes together under
+the oaks of England. Those great drums beaten by the hands of
+Haabunai and Song of the Nightingale made one want to be a savage,
+to throw a spear, to dance in the moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>Erase thirty years, and hear it in Atuona when the &ldquo;long pig that
+speaks&rdquo; was being carried through the jungle to the dark High Place!
+Then it was the thunder of the heavens, the voice of the old gods
+hungry for the flesh of their enemies.</p>
+
+<p>We who have become refined and diverse in our musical expression,
+using a dozen or scores of instruments to interpret our subtle
+emotions, cannot know the primitive and savage exaltation that
+surges through the veins when the war-drum beats. To the Marquesans
+it has ever been a summons to action, an inspiration to daring and
+bloody deeds, the call of the war-gods, the frenzy of the dance.
+Born of the thunder, speaking with the voice of the storm and the
+cataract, it rouses in man the beast with quivering nostrils and
+lashing tail who was part of the forest and the night.</p>
+
+<p>Music is ever an expression of the moods and morals of its time. The
+bugle and the fife share with the drum the rousing of martial spirit
+in our armies to-day, but to our savage ancestors the drum was
+supreme. Primitive man expressed his harmony with nature by imitating
+its sounds. He struck his own body or a hollow log covered with skin.
+Uncivilized peoples crack their fingers, snap their thighs, or
+strike the ground with their feet to furnish music for impromptu
+dancing. In Tonga they crack their fingers; in Tahiti they pound the
+earth with the soles of their feet; here in Atuona they clap hands.
+The Marquesans have, too, bamboo drums, long sections of the hollow
+reed, slit, and beaten with sticks. For calling boats and for
+signaling they use the conch-shell, the same that sounded when
+&ldquo;the Tritons blew their wreathed horn.&rdquo; They also have the jew's-harp,
+an instrument common to all Polynesia; sometimes a strip of bark
+held between the teeth, sometimes a bow of wood strung with gut.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr25"></a>
+<a href="images/img25.jpg"><img src="images/thumb25.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The <i>haka</i>, the Marquesan national dance</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr26"></a>
+<a href="images/img26.jpg"><img src="images/thumb26.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Hot Tears (on the left) with Vai Etienne</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Civilization is a process of making life more complex and subtle. We
+have the piano, the violin, the orchestra. Yet we also have rag-time,
+which is a reaction from the nervous tension of American commercial
+life, a swinging back to the old days when man, though a brute, was
+free. There is release and exhilaration in the barbaric, syncopated
+songs and in the animal-like motions of the jazz dances with their
+wild and passionate attitudes, their unrestrained rhythms, and their
+direct appeal to sex. These rag-time melodies, coming straight from
+the jungles of Africa through the negro, call to impulses in man that
+are stifled in big cities, in factory and slum and the nerve-wearing
+struggle of business.</p>
+
+<p>So in the dance my Marquesan neighbors returned to the old ways and
+expressed emotions dying under the rule of an alien people. With the
+making light of their reverenced <i>tapus</i>, the proving that their
+gods were powerless, and the ending of their tribal life, the dance
+degraded. They did not care to dance now that their joy in life was
+gone. But the new and jolly governor, craving amusement, sought to
+revive it for his pleasure. So the drums were beating on the palace
+lawn, and afternoon found the trails gay with <i>pareus</i> and brilliant
+shawls as the natives came down from their <i>paepaes</i> to the seat of
+government.</p>
+
+<p>Chief Kekela Avaua, adopted son of the old Kekela, and head man of
+the Paamau district, called for me. He was a dignified and important
+man of forty-five years, with handsome patterns in tattooing on his
+legs, and Dundreary whiskers. He was quite modishly dressed in brown
+linen, beneath which showed his bare, prehensile-toed feet.</p>
+
+<p>Kirio Patuhamane, a marvelous specimen of scrolled ink-marks from
+head to foot, who sported Burnside whiskers, an English cricket cap,
+and a scarlet loin-cloth, accompanied us down the road.</p>
+
+<p>A hundred natives were squatting in the garden of the palace, and
+rum and wine were being handed out when we arrived. Haabunai and
+Song of the Nightingale, the man under sentence for making palm
+brandy, were once more the distributors, and took a glass often. The
+people had thawed since the dance at the governor's inauguration. As
+Kirio Patuhamane explained, they had waited to observe the
+disposition of their new ruler, the last having been severe,
+dispensing no rum save for his own selfish gain, and having a wife
+who despised them.</p>
+
+<p>My tawny feminine friends resented keenly white women's airs of
+superiority, and many were the cold glances cast by Malicious Gossip,
+Apporo, and Flower at the stiffly gowned Madame Bapp, who sat on the
+veranda drinking absinthe. They scorned her, because she beat her
+husband if he but looked at one of them, though he owned a store and
+desired their custom. Poor Madame Bapp! She thought her little man
+very attractive, and she lived in misery because of the
+openly-displayed charms of his customers. She loved him, and when
+jealous she sought the absinthe bottle and soon was busy with whip
+and broom on the miserable Bapp, who sought to flee. It was useless;
+she had looked to doors and windows, and he must take a painful
+punishment, the while the crockery smashed and all Atuona Valley
+listened on its <i>paepaes</i>, laughing and well knowing that the little
+man had given no cause for jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>She greeted me with cold politeness when I mounted to the veranda,
+and the governor dispensed glasses of &ldquo;Dr. Funk,&rdquo; a drink known to
+all the South Seas. Its secret is merely the mixing of a stiff drink
+of absinthe with lemonade or limeade. The learned man who added this
+death-dealing potion to the pleasures of the thirsty was Stevenson's
+friend, and attended him in his last illness. I do not know whether
+Dr. Funk ever mixed his favorite drink for R.L.S., but his own fame
+has spread, not as a healer, but as a dram-decocter, from Samoa to
+Tahiti. &ldquo;Dr. Funk!&rdquo; one hears in every club and bar. Its particular
+merits are claimed by experts to be a stiffening of the spine when
+one is all in; an imparting of courage to live to men worn out by
+doing nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The governor in gala attire was again the urban host, assisted by
+André Bauda, now his close friend and confidant. Bauda himself had
+been in the island only a few months, and knew no more Marquesan
+speech than the governor. Both these officials were truly hospitable,
+embarrassingly so, considering my inability to keep up with them in
+their toasts.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the demijohn of rum had been emptied into the glasses passing
+from hand to hand in the garden; Haabunai and Song of the
+Nightingale again evoked the thrumming beat of the great drums, and
+the dance began. This was a tragedy of the sea, a pantomine of
+danger and conflict and celebration. For centuries past the
+ancestors of these dancers had played it on the Forbidden Height.
+Even the language in which they chanted was archaic to this
+generation, its words and their meanings forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>The women sat upon the grass in a row, and first, in dumb show, they
+lifted and carried from its house to the beach a long canoe. The
+straining muscles of their arms, the sway of their bodies, imitated
+the raising of the great boat, and the walking with its weight, the
+launching, the waiting for the breakers and the undertow that would
+enable them to pass the surf line, and then the paddling in rough
+water.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime at a distance the men chanted in chorus, giving rhythmic
+time to the motions of the dancers and telling in the long-disused
+words the story of the drama. And the drums beat till their rolling
+thunder resounded far up the valley.</p>
+
+<p>After the canoe was moving swiftly through the water the women rested.
+It seemed to me that the low continued chant of the men expressed a
+longing for freedom, for a return to nature, and a melancholy comment
+on the days of power and liberty gone forever. Though no person
+present understood the ancient language of the song, there was no
+need of words to interpret the exact meaning of the dance. Though no
+word had been uttered, the motions of the women would have clearly
+told the tale.</p>
+
+<p>When they began again, the sea grew more agitated. Now the wail of
+the men reproduced the sound of waves beating on the canoe, and the
+whistling of the wind. The canoe was tossed high by the pounding sea;
+it slid dizzily down into the troughs of waves and rocked as the
+oarsmen fought to hold it steady. The squall had grown into a gale,
+roaring upon them while they tried to hold it steady. The canoe
+began to fill with water, it sank deeper and deeper, and in another
+moment the boatsmen were flung into the ocean. There they struggled
+with the great seas; they swam; they regained the canoe; they
+righted it, climbed into it. The storm subsided, the seas went down.</p>
+
+<p>Again the women rested, their arms and bodies shining with
+perspiration. All this time they had remained immobile from the
+waist downward; their naked legs folded under them like those of
+statues. The chant of the men was quieter now, expressing a memory
+of the old gaiety now crushed by the inhibitions of the whites, by
+ridicule of island legends, and by the stern denunciations of
+priests and preachers. Yet it was full of suggestion of days gone by
+and the people who had once sailed the seas among these islands.</p>
+
+<p>Again the dancers raised their arms, and the canoe sailed over sunny
+waters. At length it touched at an isle, it was carried through the
+breakers to a resting place on the sand. Its oarsmen rejoiced, they
+danced a dance of thanksgiving to their gods, and wreathed the
+<i>ti</i> leaves in their hair.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Haabunai, master of ceremonies, gave a cry of dismay
+and ceased to beat his drum. With an anguished glance at the
+assembled spectators, he dashed around the corner of the house, to
+reappear in an instant with his hands full of green leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon dieu!</i>&rdquo; cried the governor. &ldquo;<i>Mon salade! Mon salade!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Haabunai, busied with his duties, had forgotten to provide the real
+and sacred <i>ti</i>. In despair at the last moment he had raided and
+utterly destroyed the governor's prized lettuce bed, the sole
+provision for salad-making in Atuona. He hastily divided the precious
+leaves among the dancers, and with wilting lettuce enwreathed in
+their tresses the oarsmen launched the canoe once more in the waves
+and returned to their own isle, praising the gods.</p>
+
+<p>All relaxed now, to receive the praises of the governor and the
+brimming glasses once more offered by the diligent Haabunai and Song,
+aided by the gendarme.</p>
+
+<p>A gruesome cannibal chant followed, accompanied by the booming of
+the drums, and then, warmed by the liquor that fired their brains,
+the dancers began the <i>haka</i>, the sexual dance. Inflamed by the rum,
+they flung themselves into it with such abandon as I have never seen,
+and I saw a <i>kamaaina</i> in Hawaii and have seen Caroline, Miri, and
+Mamoe, most skilled dancers of the Hawaiian Islands. With the
+continued passing of the cup, the <i>hurahura</i> soon became general. The
+men and women who had begun dancing in rows, in an organized way,
+now broke ranks and danced freely all over the lawn. Men sought out
+the women they liked, and women the men, challenging each other in
+frenzied and startling exposition of the ancient ways.</p>
+
+<p>The ceaseless booming of the drums added incitement to the frenzy;
+the grounds of the governor's palace were a chaos of twisting brown
+bodies and agitated <i>pareus</i>, while from all sides rose cries, shouts,
+hysterical laughter, and the sound of clapping hands and thumping
+feet. Here and there dancers fell exhausted, until by elimination
+the dance resolved itself into a duet, all yielding the turf to Many
+Daughters, the little, lovely leper, and Kekela Avaua, chief of
+Paumau. These left the lawn and advanced to the veranda, where so
+contagious had become the enthusiasm that the governor was doing the
+<i>hurahura</i> opposite Bauda, and Ah Yu danced with Apporo, while Song,
+the prisoner, and Flag, the gendarme, madly emulated the star
+performers.</p>
+
+<p>Kekela, who led the rout, was a figure at which to marvel. A very
+big man, perhaps six feet four inches in height, and all muscle, his
+contortions and the frenzied movements of his muscles exceeded all
+anatomical laws. Many Daughters, her big eyes shining, her red lips
+parted, followed and matched his every motion. Her entire trunk
+seemed to revolve on the pivot of her waist, her hips twisting in
+almost a spiral, and her arms akimbo accentuating and balancing her
+lascivious mobility.</p>
+
+<p>The governor and the commissionaire, Ah Yu and Apporo, Monsieur Bapp
+with Song of the Nightingale and Flag, made the palace tremble while
+the <i>thrum</i> of the great drums maddened their blood.</p>
+
+<p>Exhausted at last, they lay panting on the boards. Song was telling
+me that the liquor of the governor's giving surpassed all his
+illicit make, and that when his sentence expired he would remain at
+the palace as cook. Ah Yu, in broken English, sang a ditty he had
+heard forty years earlier in California, &ldquo;Shoo-fle-fly-doan-bodder-me.&rdquo;
+Apporo, overcome by the rum and the dance, was lying among the
+rose-bushes. Many others were flung on the sward, and more rose
+again to the dance, singing and shouting and demanding more rum. The
+girls came forward to be kissed, as was the custom, and Madame Bapp
+drove them away with sharp words.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the hullabaloo became too great for the dignity of the governor.
+He gave orders to clear the grounds, and Bauda issued commands from
+the veranda while Song and Flag lugged away the drums and drove the
+excited mob out of the garden and across the bridge. All in all,
+this Sunday was typical of Atuona under the new régime.</p>
+
+<p>After a quiet bath in the pool below my cabin I got my own dinner,
+unassisted by Exploding Eggs, and went early to bed to forestall
+visitors. The crash of a falling cocoanut awakened me at midnight,
+and I saw on my <i>paepae</i> Apporo, Flower, Water, and Chief Kekela
+Avaua, asleep. The chief had hung his trousers over the railing, and
+was in his <i>pareu</i>, his pictured legs showing, while the others lay
+naked on my mats. There was no need to disturb them, for it is the
+good and honored custom of these hospitable islands to sleep wherever
+slumber overtakes one.</p>
+
+<p>The night was fine, the stars looked down through the
+breadfruit-trees, and Temetiu, the giant mountain, was dark and
+handsome in the blue and gold sky. Two sheep were huddled together
+by my trail window, the horses were lying down in the brush, and a
+nightingale lilted a gay love song in the cocoanut-palms above the
+House of the Golden Bed.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning all Atuona had a tight handkerchief bound over its
+forehead. I met twenty men and women with this sign of repentance
+upon their brows. Watercress, the chief of Atuona, who guards the
+governor's house, was by the roadside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have drunk too much,&rdquo; I remarked, as I spied the rag about his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not too much, but a great deal,&rdquo; he rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Faufau</i>,&rdquo; I said further, which means that it is a bad thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Hana paopao</i>&rdquo; he said sadly. &ldquo;It is disagreeable to work. One
+likes to forget many things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was bitterness and sorrow in his tone. His father was a warrior,
+under the protection of Toatahu, the god of the chiefs, and led many
+a victorious foray when Watercress was a child. The son remembers the
+old days and feels deeply the degradation and ruin brought by the
+whites upon his people. A distinguished-looking man, dignified and
+haughty, he was one of half a dozen who were working out taxes by
+repairing the roads, and he was one of the few who worked steadily,
+saying little and seldom smiling.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A walk to the Forbidden Place; Hot Tears, the hunchback; the story of
+Behold the Servant of the Priest, told by Malicious Gossip in the
+cave of Enamoa.</i></p>
+
+<p>It was a drowsy afternoon, and coming up the jungle trail to my
+cabin I saw Le Brunnec, the trader, accompanied by Mouth of God and
+Tahiapii, half-sister to Malicious Gossip.</p>
+
+<p>Le Brunnec, a Breton, intelligent, honest, and light-hearted, owned
+the store below the governor's palace on the road to Atuona beach.
+He lived above it, alone save for a boy who cooked for him, and all
+the Marquesans were his friends. He had come this afternoon to take
+me for a walk up Atuona valley, and on the main road below my house
+Le Moine, Jimmy Kekela, Hot Tears, the hunchback, and Malicious
+Gossip awaited us.</p>
+
+<p>We waded the river and found a trail that wandered along it crossed
+it now and then and hung in places on the high banks above it. The
+trail had been washed by freshets often and was rough and stony,
+overhung with trees and vines. Along it, a hundred feet or so from
+the river, were houses sparsely scattered in the almost continuous
+forest of cocoanut and breadfruit. Oranges and bananas, mangoes and
+limes, surrounded the cabins, most of which were built of rough
+planks and roofed with iron. Here and there I saw a native house of
+straw matting thatched with palm leaves, a sign of a poverty that
+could not reach the hideous, but admired, standard of the whites.</p>
+
+<p>Many people sitting on their <i>paepaes</i> called to us, and one woman
+pointed to me and said that she wished to take my name and give me
+her own. This is their custom with one to whom they are attracted,
+but I affected not to understand. I did not want, so early in my
+residence in Atuona, to lose a name that had served me well for many
+years, and besides, if I took another I would have to abide by
+whatever it might be and be known by it. It would be pleasant to be
+called &ldquo;Blue Sky&rdquo; or &ldquo;Killer of Sharks,&rdquo; but how about &ldquo;Drowned in
+the Sea&rdquo; or &ldquo;Noise Inside&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep your name to yourself, <i>mon ami</i>,&rdquo; said Le Moine. &ldquo;They expect
+much from you if you give them yours. They will give you heaps of
+useless presents, but you alone have the right to buy rum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Following a curve in the stream, we came upon Teata (Miss Theater),
+the acknowledged beauty of Atuona, waist-deep in a pool, washing her
+gowns. She was a vision of loveliness, large-eyed, tawny, her hair a
+dark cascade about her fair face and bare shoulders, the crystal
+water lapping her slender thighs and curling into ripples about her,
+the heavy jungle growth on the banks making an emerald background to
+her beauty.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are like the ancient Greeks,&rdquo; said Le Moine, &ldquo;with the grace
+of accustomed nudity and the poise of the barefooted. You must not
+judge them by the present standards of Europe, but by the statues of
+Greece or Egypt. M'a'mselle Theater there in the brook would have
+been renowned in the Golden Age of Pericles. I must paint her before
+she is older. They are good models, for they have no nerves and will
+sit all day in a pose, though they dislike standing, and must have
+their pipe or cigarette. You have seen Vanquished Often, in my own
+valley of Vait-hua, whom I have painted so much. Ah, there is beauty!
+One will not find her like in all the world. Paris knows nothing
+like her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Teata waved her hand at us from the brook, and flung her heavy hair
+backward over her shoulder as she went on with her task. Looking
+back at her before the trail wound again into the forest, I saw that
+her features in repose were hard and semi-savage, the lines still
+beautiful, but cast in a severe and forbidding mold.</p>
+
+<p>We climbed steadily, jumping from rock to rock and clinging to the
+bushes. A mile up the valley we came suddenly upon a plateau, and
+saw before us the remains of an ancient <i>Pekia</i>, or High Place, a
+grim and grisly monument of the days of evil gods and man-eating.</p>
+
+<p>This, in the old days, was the <i>paepae tapu</i>, or Forbidden Height,
+the abode of dark and terrible spirits. Upon it once stood the
+temple and about it in the depths of night were enacted the rites of
+mystery, when the priests and elders fed on the &ldquo;long pig that speaks,&rdquo;
+when the drums beat till dawn and wild dances maddened the blood.</p>
+
+<p>When it was built, no man can say. Centuries have looked upon these
+black stones, grim as the ruins of Karnak, created by a mysterious
+genius, consecrated to something now gone out of the world forever.
+For ages hidden in the gloom of the forest, it was swept and
+polished by hands long since dust; it was held in reverence and dread.
+It was <i>tapu</i>, devoted to terrible deities, and none but the priests
+or the chiefs might approach it except on nights of ghastly feasting.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr27"></a>
+<a href="images/img27.jpg"><img src="images/thumb27.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The old cannibal of Taipi Valley</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr28"></a>
+<a href="images/img28.jpg"><img src="images/thumb28.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Enacting a human sacrifice of the Marquesans</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It stood in a grove of shadowy trees, which even at mid-afternoon
+cast a gloom upon the ponderous black rocks of the platform and the
+high seats where chiefs and wizards once sat devouring the corpses
+of their foes. Above them writhed and twisted the distorted limbs of
+a huge banian-tree, and below, among the gnarled roots, there was a
+deep, dark pit.</p>
+
+<p>We paused in a clear space of green turf delicately shaded by
+mango-trees walled in with ferns and grass and flowering bushes, and
+gazed into the gloom. This was forbidden ground until the French came.
+No road led to it then; only a narrow and dusky trail, guarded by
+demons of Po and trod by humans only in the whispering darkness of
+the jungle night, brought the warriors with the burdens of living
+meat to the place of the gods. But the French, as if to mock the
+sacred things of the conquered, made two roads converge in this very
+spot, from which one wound its way over the mountains to Hanamenu
+and the other followed the river to an <i>impasse</i> in the hills.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My forefathers and mothers ate their fill of 'long pig' here and
+danced away the night,&rdquo; said Hot Tears, the hunchback, as he lighted
+a cigarette and sat upon the stone pulpit that once had been a
+wizard's. His heavy face, crushed down upon his crooked chest, showed
+not the slightest trace of fear; a pale imp danced in each of his
+narrowed eyes as he looked up at me.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That banian-tree, my grandfather said, held the <i>toua</i>, the cord of
+cocoanut fiber that held the living meat suspended above the baking
+pit. There, you see, among the roots&mdash;that was the oven, above which
+the prisoners hung. Here stood the great drums, and the servants of
+the priests beat them, till the darkness was filled with sound and
+all the valleys heard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aue!</i>&rdquo; The hunchback leaped to the edge of the pit. He raised his
+thin arms in the air, and I seemed to see, amidst the contorted
+limbs of the aged banian, fifty feet above, the quivering bodies
+swaying. &ldquo;The <i>toua</i> breaks! They fall. Here on the rocks. They are
+killed with blows of the <i>u'u</i>, thus! And thus the meat is cut, and
+wrapped in the <i>meika aa</i>. Light the fire! Pile in the wood! It
+roasts!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His ghoulish laughter rose in the dark stillness of the jungle, and
+the hair stirred on my scalp. To my vision the high black seats were
+filled with shadowy figures, the light of candlenut torches fell on
+tattooed faces and gleaming eyes. When the hunchback moved from the
+tree of death, feigning to carry a platter, first to the great seats
+of the chiefs, then to the wide platform below, the flesh crawled on
+my bones.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ai!</i> They dance! <i>Ai! Ai! Ai!</i> They danced, and they loved! All
+night the drums beat. The drums! The drums! The drums!&rdquo; He flung his
+twisted body on the green and laughed madly, till the old banian
+itself answered him. For a moment he writhed in a silence even more
+ghastly than his laughter, then lay still.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Au!</i>&rdquo; he said, turning over on his back. &ldquo;My grandfather believed
+this Pekia to be the abode of demons.&rdquo; He paused. &ldquo;As for me, I
+believe in none of them, or in any other gods.&rdquo; And he blew out his
+breath contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>Le Moine surveyed the scene critically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a picture at night, with torches flickering, and the
+seats filled with men in red <i>pareus</i>! <i>Mais, c'est terrible!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He got off a hundred feet and squinted through a roll of paper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I could paint it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It must be a big canvas, and
+all dark but the torches and a few faces. <i>Mon dieu!</i> Magnificent!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Is cannibalism in the Marquesas a thing of the past? Do those grim
+warriors who survive the new régime ever relapse? Who can say? It is
+not probable, for the population of the valleys is so small and the
+movements of the people so limited that absence is quickly detected.
+Yet every once in awhile some one is missing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Haa mate</i>. He has leaped into the sea. He was <i>paopao</i>. Life was
+too long.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Or, if the disappearance was in crossing from one valley to another,
+it is said that a rock or a fall of earth had swept the absent one
+over a cliff. These are reasonable explanations, yet there persist
+whispers of foul appetitites craving gratification and of old rites
+revived by the <i>moke</i>, the hermits who hide in the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Two such dissappearances had occurred during my brief stay in Atuona,
+and I had made little of the whispers. But now, with the hideous
+laughter of the hunchback still ringing in my ears, they slipped
+darkly through my mind, and I never felt the sunshine sweeter or
+tasted the mountain air with more delight than when we left that
+unholy place and were out on the trail again.</p>
+
+<p>Our destination was a waterfall, with a pool in which we might bathe,
+and after leaving the <i>Pekia</i> we followed the stream, climbing
+higher and higher from the sea. In the Marquesas all the rivers
+begin in the high mountains, where from the precipices leap the
+torrents in times of rain. As the valleys are mere ravines at their
+heads, the waters collect in their depths and roll to the ocean,
+rippling gently on sunny days, but after a downpour raging, rolling
+huge boulders over and over and tearing away cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>These streams are the life of the people in the upper valleys. In
+the old days of warfare many of these mountain dwellers never knew
+the sea; they were prevented from reaching it by the beach clansmen
+who claimed the fishing for their own and made it death for the hill
+people to venture down to the shore. All the people of a single
+valley, six or perhaps a dozen clans, united to war against other
+valleys, its people risking their lives if they trespassed beyond
+the hills. Yet under a wise and powerful chief a whole valley lived
+in amity and knew no class or clan divisions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are going to <i>Vaihae</i>, The Waters of the Great Desire,&rdquo; said
+Malicious Gossip. &ldquo;It was a sacred place once upon a time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We climbed painfully, Le Moine and I suffering keenly from the sharp
+edges of the stones that cut even through the thick soles of our
+shoes. The others, who were barefooted, made nothing of them,
+walking as easily and lithely as panthers on the jagged trail.
+Soon we heard the crash of the <i>Vaihae</i>, and sliding down the
+mountain-side a hundred feet we came into a depths of a gorge a yard
+or two wide, a mere crack in the rocks, filled with the boom and
+roar of rushing water. The rain-swollen stream, cramped in the
+narrow passage, flung itself foaming high on the spray-wet cliffs,
+and dashed in a mighty torrent into a deep howl riven out of the
+solid granite twenty feet below.</p>
+
+<p>We put off our clothes and leaped into the pool, enjoying intensely
+the coolness of the swirling water after the sweat of our climb.
+Malicious Gossip and her sister would not go in at first, but when I
+had climbed the face of a slippery rock twenty feet high to dive,
+and remained there gazing at the melancholy grandeur of the scene,
+Malicious Gossip put off her tunic and swam through the race,
+bringing me my camera untouched by the water. She was a naiad of the
+old mythologies as she slipped through the green current, her hair
+streaming over her shoulders and her body moving effortlessly as a
+fish. Once wetted, she remained in the water with us, and she told
+me there was a cave behind the waterfall, hidden by the glassy sheet
+of water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is called <i>Enamoa</i> (Behold the Servant of the Priest) and it has
+a terrible history,&rdquo; said Malicious Gossip. &ldquo;Follow me and we will
+enter it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She swam across the pool and turning lithely in the water curved out
+of sight beneath the surface of the vortex. <i>Kekela</i> followed her,
+and I made several attempts, but each time was flung back, bruised
+and breathless. It was not until Kekela, finding a long stick in the
+cave, thrust it through the white foam, that by catching its end in
+the whirling water I was able to fight through the roaring and
+smashing deluge.</p>
+
+<p>The cave was obscure and damp, its only light filtering through the
+moving curtain of green water. Black and crawling things squirmed at
+our feet, and darkness filled the recesses of the cavern. Malicious
+Gossip's body was a blur in the dimness, and her low soft voice was
+like an overtone of the deep organ notes of the torrent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The tale of the cave of <i>Enamoa</i> is not a legend,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;for it is more. It was a happening known to our grandfathers. There
+were two warriors who coveted a woman, and she was <i>tapu</i> to them.
+She was a <i>taua vehine</i>, a priestess of the old gods. But they
+coveted her, and they were friends, who shared their wives as they
+divided their <i>popoi</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Panalua</i>,&rdquo; said Kekela. &ldquo;That is 'dear friend custom.' We had it in
+Hawaii. Brothers shared their wives, and sisters their husbands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These two were name-brothers, and loved as though they were
+brothers by blood,&rdquo; said Malicious Gossip. &ldquo;And their hearts were
+consumed with flame when they looked on this girl. It was evil of
+them, for it was against the will of the gods. She was of their own
+clan, and the priests had made her <i>tapu</i> until she had reached a
+certain age. Her brother was the servant of the priests, and she was
+consecrated to the gods. She was guarded by most sacred custom. It
+was forbidden to touch her or her food.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet these warriors, <i>toa</i> they were, and renowned in battle,
+coveted her with a desire that ate their sleep. And at last when
+they had drunk the fiery <i>namu enata</i> till their brains were filled
+with flames, they lay in wait for her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She came down to this pool to bathe. The pool itself was <i>tapu</i>
+save for those consecrated to the gods, yet this wretched pair crept
+through the lantana there on the bank, and watched her. She stood on
+the rock above the pool and put off her <i>pae</i>, her cap of gauze, her
+long robe, and her <i>pareu</i>, all of finest tree-cloth, for in those
+days before the whites came our people were properly clothed. All
+naked then in the sunlight, she lifted her arms toward the sky and
+laughed, and sat down on a rock to bathe her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suddenly the lustful warriors sprang upon her, and stopping her
+cries with her own <i>pae</i> they swam with her into this cave. Thought
+and breath had left her; she lay as one dead, and before they had
+attained their will they heard a sound of one approaching and singing
+on the rocks. They had no time to kill her, as they had intended,
+that she might not bring death to them. They left her and fled along
+the cliffs, barely escaping before the other man came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He had seen from the corner of his eye a sight of some one fleeing
+from the cave. He was curious, and swam to it. It was late in the day,
+for the priestess had come for the evening bath. The sun had hidden
+himself behind Temetiu and the cave was dark. The man came, then,
+stepping with care, and his feet found in the darkness a living body,
+warm and soft and perfumed with flowers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then in the darkness, finding her very sweet, he yielded to the
+demon. But when he brought her at last through the falling water to
+the evening light, he cried aloud. He was the <i>moa</i>, the servant of
+the high priest, and this was his sister whom he loved.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He screamed thrice, so that all the valley heard him, and then he
+flung her into the pool to drown. The people saw him fleeing to the
+heights. He never returned to them. He became a <i>moke</i>, a sorcerer,
+who lived alone in the forest, dreaded by all. He was heard
+shrieking in the night, and then the storms came. His eyes were seen
+through the leaves on jungle trails, and he who saw died.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the people gave the cave a name, the name of <i>Enamoa</i>, Behold
+the Servant of the Priest. It was much larger then than now, as
+large as a grove. But one night the people heard the noise of the
+falling of great rocks, and in the morning the cave was small as now.
+The <i>moke</i> was never seen again. He had brought down the walls of
+the cave upon himself, because it had seen his sin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Malicious Gossip, having finished her tale, slipped again beneath
+the green curtain of the waterfall. When I had fought through the
+blinding, crashing waters and floated with aching lungs on the
+surface of the pool, she was donning her tunic on the rocks above it,
+and soon, with our clothes over our wet bodies, we strolled back to
+Atuona, Tahiapii smoking Kekela's pipe.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr29"></a>
+<a href="images/img29.jpg"><img src="images/thumb29.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Interior of Island of Fatu-hiva, where the author
+walked over the mountains</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr30"></a>
+<a href="images/img30.jpg"><img src="images/thumb30.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The plateau of Ahoa</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A search for rubber-trees on the plateau of Ahoa; a fight with the
+wild white dogs; story of an ancient migration, told by the wild
+cattle hunters in the Cave of the Spine of the Chinaman.</i></p>
+
+<p>I went one day with Le Brunnec, the French trader, in search of
+rubber trees on the plateau of Ahao, above Hanamenu, on the other
+side of Hiva-oa Island.</p>
+
+<p>Mounted on small, but sturdy, mountain ponies, we followed the trail
+across the river and up the steep mountain-side clad with
+impenetrable jungle, climbing ever higher and higher above deep
+gorges and dizzying precipices, until at noon we crossed the
+loftiest range and dipped downward to the wide plateau.</p>
+
+<p>A thousand feet above the valley, level as a prairie, and
+indescribably wild and deserted, the plain stretched before us. At
+some distance to our right a long and narrow mound rose five hundred
+feet from the plateau, a hill that did not mar the vast level expanse,
+but seemed instead a great earthwork piled upon it by man. Its green
+terrace was a wild garden of flowers and fruit growing in luxuriant
+confusion, watered by a stream that leaped sparkling among tall ferns.</p>
+
+<p>There was no breadfruit, for it will live only where man is there to
+tend it, and in all the extent of the tableland there was no human
+being or sign of habitation. Wild cattle and boars moved in droves
+among the scattered trees, or stood in the shallow stream watching us
+with curiosity as we passed. Thousands of guinea-pigs scampered
+before our horses' feet, and the free descendants of house-trained
+cats from the cities of Europe and America perched upon lofty
+branches to gaze down at our cavalcade.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen the Garden of Allah, and the Garden of Eden,&mdash;if I can
+believe the Arab sheik whose camel I bought for the journey,&mdash;I have
+been in Nikko at its best, and known Johore and Kandy <i>en fête</i>, but
+for the hours in which I looked upon it this plateau of Ahao was the
+most exquisite spot upon the earth. The wilderness of its tropic
+beauty, the green of its leafage, the rich profusion and splendor of
+its flowers, the pale colors that shimmered along its far horizon,
+and the desolate grandeur of Temetiu's distant summit wrapped in
+thunderous clouds, gave it an aspect primitive, mysterious, and
+sublime.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the trees hundreds of orchids hung like jewels, and vines were
+swung in garlands. Flowers of every hue spread a brilliant carpet
+beneath the horses' hoofs; the hart's-tongue, the <i>manamana-o-hina</i>,
+the <i>papa-mako</i> and the parasol-plant, with mosses of every
+description and myriads of ferns, covered the sward. Some were the
+giant tree-ferns, tall as trees, others uncurled snaky stems from
+masses of rusty-colored matting, and everywhere was spread the
+delicate lace of the <i>uu-fenua</i>, a maiden-hair beside which the
+florist's offering is clumsy and insignificant.</p>
+
+<p>We made our own way through the tall grass and tangles of flowering
+shrubs, for there were no trails save those made by the great herds
+of wild cattle that wandered across the plain. Three thousand head
+at least I saw grazing on the luxuriant herbage, or pausing with
+lifted heads before they fled at our approach.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are descendants of a few left by shipmasters decades ago,&rdquo;
+said Le Brunnec. &ldquo;Twenty years ago they roamed in immense herds all
+over the islands. I have chased them out of the trail to Hanamenu
+with a stick. Like the goats left by the American captain, Porter,
+on Nuka-hiva, they thrived and multiplied, but like the goats they
+are being massacred.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Both cattle and goats were past reckoning when, with peace fully
+established and the population dwindling, the French permitted the
+Marquesans to buy guns. The natives hunt in gangs. Fifteen or twenty
+men, each with rifle or shot-gun, go on horseback to the grazing
+grounds. The beasts at the sound of the explosions rush to the
+highest point of the hills. Knowing their habits, the natives post
+themselves along the ridges and kill all they can. They eat or take
+away three or four, but they kill thirty or forty. They die in the
+brush, and their bones strew the ground.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I told him of the buffalo, antelope, and deer that formerly filled
+our woods and covered our prairies; of Alexander Wilson, who in
+Kentucky in 1811 estimated one flight of wild carrier pigeons as two
+thousand millions, and of there being not one of those birds now left
+in the world so far as is known.</p>
+
+<p>Le Brunnec sighed, for he was a true sportsman, and would not kill
+even a pig if he could not consume most of its carcass. Often he
+half-lifted the shot-gun that lay across the pommel, but let it drop
+again, saying, &ldquo;We will have a wild bird for supper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We pitched our tent as the moon hung her lantern over the brow of
+the hill. Never was tent raised in a spot lonelier or lovelier. We
+chose for our camp the shelter of a <i>moto</i> tree, one of the most
+lordly of all the growths of these islands. Not ten of them were
+left in all the Marquesas, said Le Brunnec as I admired its towering
+column and magnificent spread of foliage. &ldquo;The whites who used the
+axe in these isles would have made firewood of the ark of the
+covenant.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We made a fire before our tent and cooked a wild chicken he had shot,
+which, with pilot-biscuit and Bordeaux wine, made an excellent dinner.
+Darkness closed around us while we ate, the wide plateau stretched
+about us, mysterious in the light of the moon, and the night was
+cool and pleasant. We lay in lazy comfort, enjoying the fresh light
+air of that altitude and smoking &ldquo;John's&rdquo; mixture from Los Angeles,
+till sleepiness spilled the tobacco. Our numbed senses scarcely let
+us drag our mats into the tent before unconsciousness claimed us.</p>
+
+<p>I was wakened by the blood-chilling howls of a wolf-pack in full cry,
+and a shout from Le Brunnec, &ldquo;The dogs!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stood by the open flap of the tent, a black silhouette of man and
+gun. When I had clutched my own rifle and reached his side I saw in
+the moonlight a score of huge white beasts, some tangled in a
+snarling heap over the remains of our supper, others crouching on
+their haunches in a ring, facing us. One of them sprang as Le
+Brunnec fired, and its hot breath fanned my face before my own
+finger pressed the trigger.</p>
+
+<p>The two wounded brutes struggled on the ground until a second shot
+finished them, and the rest made off to a little distance, where Le
+Brunnec kept them with an occasional shot while I brought up the
+terrified ponies, snorting and plunging. More wood thrown on the
+coals spread a circle of firelight about us, and Le Brunnec and I
+took turns in standing guard until morning, while the white dogs sat
+like sheeted ghosts around us and made the night hideous with howls.
+One or the other of us must have dozed, for during the night the
+beasts dragged away the two dead and picked their bones.</p>
+
+<p>These, Le Brunnec said, were the sons and daughters of dogs once
+friendly to humanity, and like the wild cats we had seen, they bore
+mute testimony to the numbers of people who once lived on this
+plateau.</p>
+
+<p>When dawn came the mountain rats were scurrying about the meadows,
+but the dogs had gone afar, leaving only the two heaps of bones and
+the wreckage of all outside the tent to tell of their foray. The sun
+flooded the mesa, disclosing myriad fern-fronds and mosses and
+colored petals waving in the light breeze as Le Brunnec and I went
+down to the stream to bathe.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! I lolled there on the bank, thinking to gaze my fill at all
+this loveliness, and sat upon the <i>puke</i>, a feathery plant exquisite
+to the eye, but a veritable bunch of gadflies for pricking meanness.
+It is a sensitive shrub, retreating at man's approach, its petioles
+folding from sight, but with all its modesty it left me a stinging
+reminder that I had failed to respect its privacy.</p>
+
+<p>At noon we came to the hill that rises from the plateau, and found
+at its base a cistern, the sole token we had seen of the domain of
+man, except the dogs and cats that had returned to the primitive. It
+was a basin cut in the solid rock, and doubtless had been the water
+supply of the tribes that dwelt here hemmed in by enemies. There was
+about it the vague semblance of an altar, and in the brush near it
+we saw the black remains of a mighty <i>paepae</i> like that giant Marai
+of Papara in Tahiti, which itself seemed kin to the great pyramid
+temple of Borobodo in Java. Melancholy memorials these of man, who
+is so like the gods, but who passes like a leaf in the wind.</p>
+
+<p>Lolling in the stream that overflowed the edge of the ancient cistern,
+we discussed our plans. Le Brunnec was convinced that the <i>eva</i>,
+which we had found in considerable numbers, was a rubber-tree. He
+said that rubber was obtained from many trees, vines, roots, and
+plants, and that the sap of the <i>eva</i>, when dried and treated, had
+all the necessary bouncing qualities. We were to estimate the number
+of <i>eva</i> trees on the plateau and size up the value of the land for
+a plantation. Thus we might turn into gold that poison tree whose
+reddish-purple, alluring fruit has given so many Marquesans escape
+from life's bitterness, whose juice wounded or mutilated warriors
+drank to avoid pain or contempt.</p>
+
+<p>Idling thus in the limpid water, we heard a voice and started up
+surprised. A group of natives looked down upon us from the hill above,
+and their leader was asking who were the strange <i>haoe</i> who had come
+to their valley.</p>
+
+<p>Le Brunnec shouted his name&mdash;Proneka, in the native tongue&mdash;and
+after council they shouted down an invitation to breakfast. We had
+no guns, or, indeed, any other clothing than a towel, our horses
+being tethered at some distance, but we climbed the hill. Half way up
+the steep ascent we were confronted by a wild sow with eight piglets.
+Le Brunnec said that one of them would be appreciated by our hosts,
+but the mother, surmising his intention, put her litter behind her
+and stood at bay. To attempt the rape of the pork, naked, afoot, and
+unarmed, would have meant grievous wounds from those gnashing tusks,
+so we abandoned the gift and approached our hosts empty-handed.</p>
+
+<p>We found them waiting for us in the Grotto of the Spine of the
+Chinaman, a shallow cave in the side of the hill. There were seven
+of them, naked as ourselves, thick-lipped, their eyes ringed with
+the blue <i>ama</i>-ink and their bodies scrolled with it. They had
+killed a bull the day before and had cooked the meat in bamboo tubes,
+steaming it in the earth until it was tender and tasty. We gorged
+upon it, and then rested in the cool cave while we smoked. They were
+curious to know why we were there, and asked if we were after beef.
+I disclaimed this intention, and said that I was wondering if Ahao
+had not held many people once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ai! <i>E mea tiatohu hoi!</i> Do you not know of the Piina of Fiti-nui?
+Of the people that once were here? <i>Aoe?</i> Then I will tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While the pipe went from mouth to mouth, Kitu, the leader of the
+hunters, related the following:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Piina of Fiti-nui had always lived here on the plateau of Ahao.
+The wise men chronicled a hundred and twenty generations since the
+clan began. That would be before Iholomoni built the temple in Iudea,
+that the priests of the new white gods tell us of. The High Place of
+the Piina of Fiti-nui was old before Iholomoni was born.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, old as was the clan, there came a time when it grew small in
+number. For longer than old remembered they had been at war with the
+Piina of Hana-uaua, who lived in the next valley below this plateau.
+These two peoples were kinsman, but the hate between them was bitter.
+The enemy gave the Piina of Fiti-nui no rest. Their <i>popoi</i> pits
+were opened and emptied, their women were stolen, and their men
+seized and eaten. Month after month and year after year the clan
+lost its strength.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They had almost ceased to tattoo their bodies, for they asked what
+it served them when they were so soon to bake in the ovens of the
+Hana-uaua people. They could not defeat the Hana-uaua, for they were
+small in number and the Hana-uaua were great. The best fighters were
+dead. The gods only could save the last of the tribe from the
+<i>veinahae</i>, the vampire who seizes the dead.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>taua</i> went into the High Place and besought the gods, but they
+were deaf. They made no answer. Then in despair the chief, Atituahuei,
+set a time when, if the gods gave no counsel, he would lead every
+man of the tribe against the foe, and die while the war-clubs sang.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Atituahuei went with the <i>taua</i> to the giant rock, Meae-Topaiho,
+the sacred stone shaped like a spear that stood between the lands of
+the warring peoples, and there he said this vow to the gods. And the
+people waited.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They waited for the space of the waxing and waning of the moon, and
+the gods said nothing. Then the warriors made ready their <i>u'u</i> of
+polished ironwood, and filled their baskets with stones, and made
+ready the spears. On the darkest night of the moon the Piina of
+Fiti-nui was to go forth to fight and be killed by the Hana-uaua.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But before the moon had gone, the <i>taua</i> came down from the High
+Place, and said that the gods had spoken. They commanded the people
+to depart from Ahao, and to sail beyond the Isle of Barking Dogs
+until they came to a new land. The gods would protect them from the
+waves. The gods had shown the <i>taua</i> a hidden valley, which ran to
+the beach, in which to build the canoes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For many months the Piina of Fiti-nui labored in secret in the
+hidden valley. They built five canoes, giant, double canoes, with
+high platforms and houses on them, the kind that are built no more.
+In these canoes they placed the women and children and the aged, and
+when all was ready, the men raided the village of the Piina of
+Hana-uaua, and in the darkness brought all their food to the canoes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At daybreak the Fiti-nui embarked in four of the canoes, but one
+they must leave behind for the daughter of the chief, who expected
+to be delivered of a child at any hour, and for the women of her
+family, who would not leave her. The hidden valley was filled with
+the sound of lamentation at the parting, but the gods had spoken,
+and they must go.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When the four canoes were in the sea beyond the village of Hana-uaua,
+all their people beat their war-drums and blew the trumpets of shell.
+The people of Hana-uaua heard the noise, and said that strangers had
+come, but whether for a fight or a feast they did not know. They
+rushed to the shore, and there they saw on the sea the people of the
+Fiti-nui, who called to them and said that they were going far away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the Hana-uaua tribe wept. For they remembered that they were
+brothers, and though they had fought long, the warriors of Fiti-nui
+had been good fighters and brave. Also many Fiti-nui women had been
+taken by the men of Hana-uaua, and captured youths had been adopted,
+and the tribes were kin by many ties.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The two tribes talked together across the waves, and the tribe of
+Hana-uaua begged their brothers not to go. They said that they would
+fight no more, that the prisoners who had not been eaten should be
+returned to their own valley, that the two clans would live forever
+in friendship.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the people of Fiti-nui wept again, but they said that the gods
+had ordered them to sail away, and they must go.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;But,&rsquo; said the chief of the Fiti-nui, &lsquo;you will know that we have
+reached a new land safely when the Meae-Topaiho falls, when the
+great spear is broken by the gods, you will know that your brothers
+are in a new home.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then they departed, the four canoes, but the daughter of the chief
+did not go, for her child was long in being born. She lived with the
+people of Hana-uaua in peace and comfort. And when the season of the
+breadfruit had come and gone, one night when the rain and the wind
+made the earth tremble and slip, the people of Hana-uaua heard a
+roaring and a crashing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;The gods are angry,&rsquo; they said. But the daughter of the chief said,
+&lsquo;My people have found their home.&rsquo; And in the morning they found
+that the Meae-Topaiho had fallen, the blade of the spear was broken,
+and the prophecy fulfilled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was four generations ago, and ever since that time the people
+of Hana-uaua have looked for some sign from their brothers who went
+away. Their names were kept in the memories of the tribe. Ten years
+ago many men were brought here to work on the plantations, from
+Puka-Puka and Na-Puka in the Paumotas, and they talked with the
+people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aue!</i> They were the children's children of the Piina of Fiti-nui.
+In those low islands to which their fathers and mothers went, they
+kept the words and the names of old. They had kept the memory of the
+journey. And one old man was brought by his son, and he remembered
+all that his father had told him, and his father was the son of the
+chief, Atituahuei.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These people did not look like our men. The many years had made
+them different. But they knew of the spear rock, and of the prophecy,
+and they were in truth the lost brothers of the Hana-uaua people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the Hana-uaua people, too, were dying now. None was left of the
+blood of the chief's daughter. No man was left alive on the plateau
+of Ahao.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Their <i>popoi</i> pits are the wallows of the wild boar; on their
+<i>paepaes</i> sit the wild white dogs. The horned cattle wander where
+they walked. <i>Hee i te fenua ke!</i> They are gone, and the stranger
+shall have their graves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A feast to the men of Motopu; the making of <i>kava</i>, and its drinking;
+the story of the Girl Who Lost Her Strength.</i></p>
+
+<p>The Vagabond, Kivi, who lived near the High Place, came down to my
+<i>paepae</i> one evening to bid me come to a feast given in Atuona
+Valley to the men of Motopu, who had been marvelously favored by the
+god of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Months of storms, said Kivi, had felled many a stately palm of
+Taka-Uka and washed thousands of ripe cocoanuts into the bay, whence
+the current that runs swift across the channel had swept the
+fruitage of the winds straight to the inlet of Motopu, on the island
+of Tahuata. The men of that village, with little effort to themselves,
+had reaped richly.</p>
+
+<p>Now they were come, bringing back the copra dried and sacked. Seven
+hundred francs they had received for a ton of it from Kriech, the
+German merchant of Taka-Uka, from whose own groves it had been
+stolen by the storms.</p>
+
+<p>On the morrow, their canoes laden with his goods, they would sail
+homeward. One day they had tarried to raft redwood planks of
+California from the schooner in the bay to the site of Kivi's new
+house. So that night in gratitude he would make merry for them. There
+would be much to eat, and there would be <i>kava</i> in plenty. He prayed
+that I would join them in this feast, which would bring back the
+good days of the <i>kava</i>-drinking, which were now almost forgotten.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr31"></a>
+<a href="images/img31.jpg"><img src="images/thumb31.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Kivi, the <i>kava</i> drinker with the <i>hetairae</i> of the valley</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr32"></a>
+<a href="images/img32.jpg"><img src="images/thumb32.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A pool in the jungle</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I rose gladly from the palm-shaded mat on which I had lain vainly
+hoping for a breath of coolness in the close heat of the day, and
+girded the red <i>pareu</i> more neatly about my loins. Often I had heard
+of the <i>kava</i>-drinking days before the missionaries had insisted on
+outlawing that drink beloved of the natives. The traders had added
+their power to the virtuous protests of the priests, for <i>kava</i> cost
+the islanders nothing, while rum, absinthe, and opium could be sold
+them for profit. So <i>kava</i>-drinking had been suppressed, and after
+decades of knowing more powerful stimulants and narcotics, the
+natives had lost their taste for the gentler beverage of their
+forefathers.</p>
+
+<p>The French law prohibited selling, exchanging, or giving to any
+Marquesan any alcoholic beverage. But the law was a dead letter, for
+only with rum and wine could work be urged upon the Marquesans, and
+I failed to reprove them even in my mind for their love of drink.
+One who has not seen a dying race cannot conceive of the prostration
+of spirit in which these people are perishing. That they are
+courteous and hospitable&mdash;and that to the white who has ruined
+them&mdash;shows faintly their former joy in life and their abounding
+generosity. Now that no hope is left them and their only future is
+death, one cannot blame them for seizing a few moment's forgetfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Some years earlier, in the first bitterness of hopeless subjugation,
+whole populations were given over to drunkenness. In many valleys
+the chiefs lead in the making of the illicit <i>namu enata</i>, or
+cocoanut-brandy. In the Philippines, where millions of gallons of
+cocoanut-brandy are made, it is called <i>tuba</i>, but usually its name
+is arrack throughout tropical Asia. Fresh from the flower spathes of
+the cocoanut-tree, <i>namu</i> tastes like a very light, creamy beer or
+mead. It is delicious and refreshing, and only slightly intoxicating.
+Allowed to ferment and become sour, it is all gall. Its drinking
+then is divided into two episodes&mdash;swallowing and intoxication.
+There is no interval. &ldquo;Forty-rod&rdquo; whiskey is mild compared to it.</p>
+
+<p>I had seen the preparation of <i>namu</i>, which is very simple. The
+native mounts the tree and makes incisions in the flowers, of which
+each palm bears from three to six. He attaches a calabash under them
+and lets the juice drip all day and night. The process is slow, as
+the juice falls drop by drop. This operation may be repeated
+indefinitely with no injury to the tree. In countries where the
+liquor is gathered to sell in large quantities, the natives tie
+bamboo poles from tree to tree, so that an agile man will run
+through the forest tending the calabashes, emptying them into larger
+receptacles, and lowering these to the ground, all without descending
+from his lofty height.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>namu</i> when stale causes the Marquesans to revert to wickedest
+savagery, and has incited many murders. Under the eye of the
+gendarme its making ceases, but a hundred valleys have no white
+policemen, and the half score of people remaining amid their
+hundreds of ruined <i>paepaes</i> give themselves over to intoxication. I
+have seen a valley immersed in it, men and women madly dancing the
+ancient nude dances in indescribable orgies of abandonment and
+bestiality.</p>
+
+<p><i>Namu enata</i> means literally &ldquo;man booze.&rdquo; The Persian-Arabic word,
+<i>nam</i>, or <i>narm-keffi</i>, means &ldquo;the liquid from the palm flower.&rdquo;
+From this one might think that Asia had taught the Marquesans the
+art of making <i>namu</i> during their prehistoric pilgrimage to the
+islands, but the discoverers and early white residents in Polynesia
+saw no drunkenness save that of the <i>kava</i>-drinking. It was the
+European, or the Asiatic brought by the white, who introduced
+comparatively recently the more vicious cocoanut-brandy, as well as
+rum and opium, and it is these drinks that have been a potent factor
+in killing the natives.</p>
+
+<p>It has ever been thus with men of other races subjugated by the
+whites. Benjamin Franklin in his autobiography tells that when he
+was a commissioner to the Indians at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, he and
+his fellow-commissioners agreed that they would allow the Indians no
+rum until the treaty they earnestly sought was concluded, and that
+then they should have plenty.</p>
+
+<p>He pictures an all-night debauch of the red men after they had
+signed the treaty, and concludes: &ldquo;And, indeed, if it be the design
+of Providence to extirpate these savages in order to make room for
+cultivators of the earth, it seems not improbable that rum may be
+the appointed means. It has annihilated all the tribes who formerly
+inhabited the sea-coast.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was not for me to speculate upon the designs of Providence with
+respect to the Marquesans. <i>Kava</i> had been the drink ordained by the
+old gods before the white men came. Its making was now almost a lost
+art; I knew no white man who had ever drunk from the <i>kava</i>-bowl. So
+it was with some eagerness that I followed Kivi down the trail.</p>
+
+<p>Broken Plate, a sturdy savage in English cloth cap and whale's-teeth
+earrings, stood waiting for us in the road below the House of
+the Golden Bed, and together the three of us went in search of
+the <i>kava</i> bush. While we followed the narrow trail up the
+mountain-side, peering through masses of tangled vines and shrubs
+for the large, heart-shaped leaves and jointed stalks we sought,
+Kivi spoke with passion of the degenerate days in which he lived.</p>
+
+<p>Let others secretly make incisions in the flower of the cocoanut and
+hang calabashes to catch the juice, said he. Or let them crook the
+hinges of the knee that rum might follow fawning on the whites. Not
+he! The drink of his fathers, the drink of his youth, was good
+enough for him! Agilely he caught aside a leafy branch overhanging
+the trail, and in the flecks of sunshine and shade his naked, strong
+brown limbs were like the smooth stems of an aged manzanita tree.</p>
+
+<p>He had not the scaly skin or the bloodshot eyes of the <i>kava</i>
+debauchee, whose excesses paint upon their victim their own vivid
+signs. I remembered a figure caught by the rays of my flashlight one
+might on a dark trail&mdash;a withered creature whose whole face and body
+had turned a dull green, and at the memory of that grisly phantom I
+shuddered. But Broken Plate, on the trail ahead, called back to us
+that he had found a goodly bush, and without more words we clambered
+to it.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>kava</i>, a variety of the pepper-plant, grows to more than six
+feet in height, and the specimen we had found thrust above our heads
+its many jointed branches rustling with large, flat leaves. The
+decoction, Kivi explained, comes from the root, and we set to work to
+dig it.</p>
+
+<p>It was huge, like a gigantic yam, and after we had torn it from the
+stubborn soil it taxed the strength and agility of two of us to
+carry it to the <i>paepae</i> of Broken Plate, where the feast was to be.
+A dozen older women, skilled in grating the breadfruit for <i>popoi</i>
+making, awaited us there, squatting in a ring on the low platform.
+The root, well washed in the river, was laid on the stones, and the
+women attacked it with cowry-shells, scraping it into particles like
+slaw. It was of the hardness of ginger, and filled a large <i>tanoa</i>,
+or wooden trough of ironwood.</p>
+
+<p>The scraping had hardly well begun, while Broken Plate and I rested
+from our labors, smoking pandanus-leaf cigarettes in the shade, when
+up the road came half a dozen of the most beautiful young girls of
+the village, clothed in all their finery.</p>
+
+<p>Teata, with all the arrogance of the acclaimed beauty, walked first,
+wearing a tight-fitting gown with insertions of fishnet, evidently
+copied from some stray fashion-book. She wore it as her only garment,
+and through the wide meshes of the novel lace appeared her skin, of
+the tint of the fresh-cooked breadfruit. She passed us with a
+coquettish toss of her shapely head and took her place among her
+envious companions.</p>
+
+<p>They sat on mats around the iron-wood trough and chewed the grated
+root, which, after thorough mastication, they spat out into
+banana-leaf cups. This chewing of the Aram-root is the very being of
+<i>kava</i> as a beverage, for it is a ferment in the saliva that
+separates alkaloid and sugar and liberates the narcotic principle.
+Only the healthiest and loveliest of the girls are chosen to munch
+the root, that delectable and honored privilege being refused to
+those whose teeth are not perfect and upon whose cheeks the roses do
+not bloom.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, as I smoked at ease in my <i>pareu</i> upon the <i>paepae</i> of
+my simple hosts I felt some misgivings rise in me. Yet why cavil at
+the vehicle by which one arrives at Nirvana? Had I not tasted the
+<i>chicha</i> beer of the Andes, and found it good? And vague analogies
+and surmises floated before me in the curls of smoke that rose in
+the clear evening light.</p>
+
+<p>What hidden clue to the remotest beginnings of the human race lies
+in the fact that two peoples, so far apart as the Marquesans and the
+South American Indians, use the same method of making their native
+beverage? In the Andes corn takes the place of the <i>kava</i> root, and
+young girls, descendants of the ancient Incas, chew the grains,
+sitting in a circle and with a certain ceremoniousness, as among
+these Marquesans. The Marquesas Islands are on the same parallel of
+latitude as Peru. Were these two peoples once one race, living on
+that long-sunken continent in which Darwin believed?</p>
+
+<p>Dusk fell slowly while I pondered on the mysteries in which our life
+is rooted, and on the unknown beginnings and forgotten significances
+of all human customs. The iron-wood trough was filled with the
+masticated root, and in groups and in couples the girls slipped away
+to bathe in the river. There they were met by arriving guests, and
+the sound of laughter and splashing came up to us as darkness closed
+upon the <i>paepae</i> and the torches were lit.</p>
+
+<p>Lights were coming out like stars up the dark valley as each
+household made its vesper fire to roast breadfruit or broil fish,
+and lanterns were hung upon the bamboo palisades that marked the
+limits of property or confined favorite pigs. A cool breeze rose and
+rustled the fronds of cocoanut and bamboo, bringing from forest
+depths a clean, earthy odor.</p>
+
+<p>The last bather came from the brook, refreshed by the cooling waters
+and adorned with flowers. All were in a merry mood for food and fun.
+Half a dozen flaring torches illuminated their happy, tattooed faces
+and dusky bodies, and caught color from the vivid blossoms in their
+hair. The ring of light made blacker the rustling cocoanut grove,
+the lofty trees of which closed in upon us on every side.</p>
+
+<p>Under the gaze of many sparkling eyes Kivi pierced green cocoanuts
+brought him fresh from the climbing, and poured the cool wine of
+them over the masticated <i>kava</i>. He mixed it thoroughly and then
+with his hands formed balls of the oozy mass, from which he squeezed
+the juice into another <i>tanoa</i> glazed a deep, rich blue by its
+frequent saturation in <i>kava</i>. When this trough was quite full of a
+muddy liquid, he deftly clarified it by sweeping through it a net of
+cocoanut fiber. All the while he chanted in a deep resonant voice
+the ancient song of the ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>U haanoho ia te kai, a tapapa ia te kai!</i>&rdquo; he called with
+solemnity when the last rite was performed. &ldquo;Come to supper; all is
+ready.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Menike</i>,&rdquo; he said to me, &ldquo;You know that to drink <i>kava</i> you must
+be of empty stomach. After eating, <i>kava</i> will make you sick. If you
+do not eat as soon as you have drunk it, you will not enjoy it. Take
+it now, and then eat, quickly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He dipped a shell in the trough, tossed a few drops over his
+shoulder to propitiate the god of the <i>kava</i>-drinking, and placed
+the shell in my hands.</p>
+
+<p>Ugh! The liquor tasted like earth and water, sweetish for a moment
+and then acrid and pungent. It was hard to get down, but all the men
+took theirs at a gulp, and when Kivi gave me another shellful, I
+followed their pattern.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Kai! Kai.</i> Eat! Eat!&rdquo; Kivi shouted then. The women hurried forward
+with the food, and we fell to with a will. Pig and <i>popoi</i>, shark
+sweetbreads, roasted breadfruit and sweet potatoes, fruits and
+cocoanut-milk leaped from the broad leaf platters to wide-open mouths.
+Hardly a word was spoken. The business of eating proceeded rapidly,
+in silence, save for the night-rustling of the palms and the soft
+sound of the women's hastening bare feet.</p>
+
+<p>Only, as he saw any slackening, Kivi repeated vigorously, &ldquo;<i>Kai! Kai!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I sat with my back against the wall of the house of Broken Plate, as
+I ate quickly at the mandate of my host, and soon I felt the need of
+this support. The feast finished, the guests reclined upon the mats.
+Women and children were devouring the remnants left upon the leaf
+platters. The torches had been extinguished, all but one. Its
+flickering gleam fell upon the aged face of Kivi, and the whites of
+his eyes caught and reflected the light. The tattooing that framed
+them appeared like black holes from which the sparks glinted
+uncannily, and the <i>kava</i> mounting to his brain or to mine gave those
+sparks a ghastliness that fascinated me in my keen, somnolent state.</p>
+
+<p>From the shadows where the women crouched the face of Teata rose
+like an eerie flower. She had adorned the two long black plaits of
+her hair with the brilliant phosphorescence of Ear of the Ghost Woman,
+the strange fungus found on old trees, a favored evening adornment
+of the island belles. The handsome flowers glowed about her bodiless
+head like giant butterflies, congruous jewels for such a temptress
+of such a frolic. The mysterious light added a gleam to her velvet
+cheek and neck that made her seem like the ghost-woman of old legend,
+created to lead the unwary to intoxicated death.</p>
+
+<p>The palaver came to me out of the darkness, like voices from a
+phonograph-horn, thin and far away. One told the tale of Tahiapepae,
+the Girl Who Lost Her Strength.</p>
+
+<p>Famine had come upon Atuona Valley. Children died of hunger on the
+<i>paepaes</i>, and the breasts of mothers shrunk so that they gave
+forth no milk. Therefore the warriors set forth in the great canoes
+for Motopu. Meat was the cry, and there was no other meat than
+<i>puaa oa</i>, the &ldquo;long pig.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then in the darkness the hungry fighting men of Atuona silently
+beached their canoes and crept upon the sleeping village of Motopu.
+Seven were killed before they could fly to the hills, and one was
+captured alive, a slender, beautiful girl of ten years, whom they
+tied hands and feet and threw into the canoe with the slain ones.</p>
+
+<p>Back they came from their triumph, and landed on the shore here,
+within spear's-throw from the <i>paepae</i> of Broken Plate. Their people
+met them with drum-beating and with chanting, bringing rose-wood
+poles for carrying the meat. The living girl was slung over the
+shoulder of the leader, still bound and weeping, and in single file
+heroes and their people marched up the trail past the Catholic
+mission. Tohoaa, Great Sea Slug, chief of Atuona and grandfather of
+Flag, the gendarme, was foremost, and over his massive shoulder hung
+the Girl Who Had Lost Her Strength.</p>
+
+<p>Then from the mission came Père Orens, crucifix in hand. Tall he
+stood in his garment of black, facing the Great Sea Slug, and
+lifting on high his hand with the crucifix in it. Père Orens had
+been made <i>tapu</i> by Great Sea Slug, to whom he had explained the
+wonders of the world, and given many presents. To touch him was death,
+for Great Sea Slug had given him a feast and put upon him the white
+<i>tapa</i>, emblem of sacredness.</p>
+
+<p>Powerful was the god of Père Orens, and could work magic. In his
+pocket he carried always a small god, that day and night said
+&ldquo;<i>Mika! Mika!</i>&rdquo; and moved tiny arms around and around a plate of
+white metal. This man stood now before the Great Sea Slug, and the
+chief paused, while his hungry people came closer that they might
+hear what befell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo; said Père Orens.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Pekia, the High Place, to cook and eat,&rdquo; said Great Sea Slug.
+Then for a space Père Orens remained silent, holding high the
+crucifix, and the chief heard from his pocket the voice of the small
+god speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give to me that small piece of living meat,&rdquo; said Père Orens then.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Me mamai oe</i>. If it is your pleasure, take it,&rdquo; said Great Sea Slug.
+&ldquo;It is a trifle. We have enough, and there is more in Motopu.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With these words he placed his burden upon the shoulder of the priest,
+and heading his band again led them past the mission, over the river
+and to the High Place, where all night long the drums beat at the
+feasting.</p>
+
+<p>But The Girl Who Lost Her Strength remained in the house of Père
+Orens, who cut her bonds, fed her, and nursed her to strength again.
+Baptized and instructed in the religion of her savior, she was
+secretly returned to her surviving relatives. There she lived to a
+good age, and died four years ago, grateful always to the God that
+had preserved her from the oven.</p>
+
+<p>He who spoke was her son, and here at the <i>kava</i> bowl together were
+the men of Motopu and the men of Atuona, enemies no longer.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of the Motopu man died away. A ringing came in my ears as
+when one puts a seashell to them and hears the drowsy murmur of the
+tides. My cigarette fell from my fingers. A sirocco blew upon me, hot,
+stifling. Kivi laughed, and dimly I heard his inquiry:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Veavea?</i> Is it hot?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>E, mahanahana</i>. I am very warm,&rdquo; I struggled to reply.</p>
+
+<p>My voice sounded as that of another. I leaned harder against the
+wall and closed my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He goes fast,&rdquo; said Broken Plate, gladly.</p>
+
+<p>A peace passing the understanding of the <i>kava</i>-ignorant was upon me.
+Life was a slumbrous calm; not dull inertia, but a separated activity,
+as if the spirit roamed in a garden of beauty, and the body, all
+suffering, all feeling past, resigned itself to quietude.</p>
+
+<p>I heard faintly the chants of the men as they began improvising the
+after-feasting entertainment. I was perfectly aware of being lifted
+by several women to within the house, and of being laid upon mats
+that were as soft to my body as the waters of a quiet sea. It was as
+if angels bore me on a cloud. All toil, all effort was over; I
+should never return to care and duty. Dimly I saw a peri waving a fan,
+making a breeze scented with ineffable fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>I was then a giant, prone in an endless ease, who stretched from the
+waterfall at the topmost point of the valley to the shore of the sea,
+and about me ran in many futile excitements the natives of Atuona,
+small creatures whose concerns were naught to me.</p>
+
+<p>That vision melted after eons, and I was in the Oti dance in the
+Paumotas, where those old women who pose and move by the music of
+the drums, in the light of the burning cocoanut husks, leap into the
+air and remain so long that the white man thinks he sees the law of
+gravitation overcome, remaining fixed in space three or four feet
+from the ground while one's heart beats madly and one's brain throbs
+in bewilderment. I was among these aged women; I surpassed them all,
+and floated at will upon the ether in an eternal witches' dance of
+more than human delight.</p>
+
+<p>The orchestra of nature began a symphony of celestial sounds. The
+rustling of the palm-leaves, the purling of the brook, and the song
+of the <i>komoko</i>, nightingale of the Marquesas, mingled in music
+sweeter to my <i>kava</i>-ravished ears than ever the harp of Apollo upon
+Mount Olympus. The chants of the natives were a choir of voices
+melodious beyond human imaginings. Life was good to its innermost
+core; there was no struggle, no pain, only an eternal harmony of joy.</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>I slept eight hours, and when I awoke I saw, in the bright oblong of
+sunlight outside the open door, Kivi squeezing some of the root of
+evil for a hair of the hound that had bitten him.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr33"></a>
+<a href="images/img33.jpg"><img src="images/thumb33.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The Pekia, or Place of Sacrifice, at Atuona</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr34"></a>
+<a href="images/img34.jpg"><img src="images/thumb34.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Marquesan cannibals, wearing dress of human hair</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A journey to Taaoa; Kahuiti, the cannibal chief, and his story of an
+old war caused by an unfaithful woman.</i></p>
+
+<p>It was a chance remark from Mouth of God that led me to take a
+journey over the hills to the valley of Taaoa, south of Atuona.
+Malicious Gossip and her husband, squatting one evening on my mats in
+the light of the stars, spoke of the Marquesan custom in naming
+children.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When a babe is born,&rdquo; said Mouth of God, &ldquo;all the intimates of his
+parents, their relatives and friends, bestow a name upon the infant.
+All these names refer to experiences of the child's ancestors, or of
+the namers, or of their ancestors. My wife's names&mdash;a few of
+them&mdash;are Tavahi Teikimoetetua Tehaupiimouna. These words are
+separate, having no relation one to another, and they mean Malicious
+Gossip, She Sleeps with God, The Golden Dews of the Mountain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My first three names are Vahatetua Heeafia Timeteo. Vahatetua is
+Mouth of God; Heeafia, One Who Looks About, and Timeteo is Marquesan
+for Timothee, the Bible writer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My uncle, the Catechist, is Tioakoekoe, Man Whose Entrails Were
+Roasted on a Stick, and his brother is called Pootuhatuha, meaning
+Sliced and Distributed. That is because their father, Tufetu, was
+killed at the Stinking Springs in Taaoa, and was cooked and sent all
+over that valley. You should see that man who killed him, Kahuiti!
+He is a great man, and strong still, though old. He likes the 'long
+pig' still, also. It is not long since he dug up the corpse of one
+buried, and ate it in the forest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When I said that I should indeed like to see that man, Mouth of God
+said that he would send a word of introduction that should insure
+for me the friendliness of the chief who had devoured his grandfather.
+Mouth of God bore the diner no ill-will. The eating was a thing
+accomplished in the past; the teachings of that stern Calvinist, his
+mother, forbade that he should eat Kahuiti in retaliation, therefore
+their relations were amicable.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning, attended by the faithful Exploding Eggs, I
+set out toward Taaoa Valley. The way was all up and down, five miles,
+wading through marshy places and streams, parting the jungle, caught
+by the thorns and dripping with sweat. Miles of it was through
+cocoanut forests owned by the mission.</p>
+
+<p>The road followed the sea and climbed over a lofty little cape,
+Otupoto, from which the coast of Hiva-oa, as it curves eastward, was
+unrolled, the valleys mysterious caverns in the torn, convulsed
+panorama, gloomy gullies suggestive of the old bloody days. Above
+them the mountains caught the light and shone green or black under
+the cloudless blue sky. Seven valleys we counted, the distant ones
+mere faint shadows in the expanse of varied green, divided by the
+rocky headlands. To the right, as we faced the sea, was the point of
+Teaehoa jutting out into the great blue plain of the ocean, and
+landward we looked down on the Valley of Taaoa.</p>
+
+<p>This was the middle place, the scene of Tufetu's violent end. A
+great splotch of red gleamed as a blot of blood on the green floor
+of the hollow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Vai piau!</i>&rdquo; said Exploding Eggs. He made a sign of lifting water
+in his hands, of tasting and spitting it out. The Stinking Springs
+where Tufetu was slain!</p>
+
+<p>They were in a fantastic gorge, through which ran a road blasted
+from solid rock, stained brown and blue by the minerals in the water
+that bubbled there and had carved the stone in eccentric patterns.
+Bicarbonate of soda and sulphur thickened the heavy air and encrusted
+the edges of the spring with yellow scum. A fitting scene for a
+deadly battle, amid smells of sulphur and brimstone! But it was no
+place in which to linger on a tropic day.</p>
+
+<p>Taaoa Valley was narrow and deep, buried in perpetual gloom by the
+shadows of the mountains. Perhaps thirty houses lined the banks of a
+swift and rocky torrent. As we approached them we were met by a
+sturdy Taaoan, bare save for the <i>pareu</i> and handsomely tattooed.
+His name, he said, was Strong in Battle, and I, a stranger, must see
+first of all a tree of wonder that lay in the forest nearby.</p>
+
+<p>Through brush and swamp we searched for it, past scores of ruined
+<i>paepaes</i>, homes of the long-dead thousands. We found it at length,
+a mighty tree felled to the earth and lying half-buried in vine and
+shrub.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This tree is older than our people,&rdquo; said Strong in Battle,
+mournfully regarding its prostrate length. &ldquo;No man ever remembered
+its beginning. It was like a house upon a hill, so high and big. Our
+forefathers worshipped their gods under it. The white men cut it to
+make planks. That was fifty years ago, but the wood never dies.
+There is no wood like it in the Marquesas. The wise men say that it
+will endure till the last of our race is gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I felt the end of the great trunk, where the marks of the axe and
+saw still showed, and struck it with my fist. The wood did indeed
+seem hard as iron, though it seemed not to be petrified. So far as I
+could ascertain from the fallen trunk, it was of a species I had
+never seen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Twenty years ago I brought a man of Peretane (England) here to see
+this tree, and he cut off a piece to take away. No white man has
+looked on it since that time,&rdquo; said Strong in Battle. He brought an
+axe from a man who was dubbing out a canoe from a breadfruit log,
+and hacked away a chip for me.</p>
+
+<p>We returned to the village and entered an enclosure in which a group
+of women were squatting around a <i>popoi</i> bowl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does the <i>Menike</i> seek?&rdquo; they asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He wants to see the footprint of Hoouiti,&rdquo; said my guide.</p>
+
+<p>On one of the stones of the <i>paepae</i> was a footprint, perfect from
+heel to toe, and evidently not artificially made.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hoouiti stood here when he hurled his spear across the island,&rdquo;
+said Strong in Battle. &ldquo;He was not a big man, as you see by his
+foot's mark.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fifteen kilometers! A long hurling of a spear,&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aue!</i> he was very strong. He lived on this <i>paepae</i>. These whom
+you see are his children's children. Would you like to meet my
+wife's father-in-law, Kahuiti? He has eaten many people. He talks
+well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><i>Eo!</i> Would I! I vowed that I would be honored by the acquaintance
+of any of the relatives of my host, and specially I desired to
+converse with old, wise men of good taste.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That man, Kahauiti, has seen life,&rdquo; said Strong in Battle.
+&ldquo;I am married to the sister of Great Night Moth, who was a very
+brave and active man, but now foolish. But Kahauiti! O! O! O! Ai! Ai!
+Ai! There he is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I never solved the puzzle of my informant's relation to the man who
+was his wife's father-in-law, for suddenly I saw the man himself,
+and knew that I was meeting a personage. Kahauiti was on the veranda
+of a small hut, sitting Turk fashion, and chatting with another old
+man. Both of them were striking-looking, but, all in all, I thought
+Kahauiti the most distinguished man in appearance that I had seen,
+be it in New York or Cairo, London or Pekin.</p>
+
+<p>He had that indefinable, yet certain, air of superiority, of assured
+position and knowledge, that stamps a few men in the world&mdash;a Yuan
+Shih Kai, Rabindranath Tagore, Sitting Bull, and Porfirio Diaz. He
+wore only a <i>pareu</i>, and was tattooed from toenails to hair-roots. A
+solid mass of coloring extended from his neck to the hip on the left
+side, as though he wore half of a blue shirt. The <i>tahuna</i> who had
+done the work seemed to have drawn outlines and then blocked in the
+half of his torso. But remembering that every pin-point of color had
+meant the thrust of a bone needle propelled by the blow of a mallet,
+I realized that Kahauiti had endured much for his decorations. No
+iron or Victoria Cross could cost more suffering.</p>
+
+<p>The bare half of his bosom, cooperish-red, contrasted with this
+cobalt, and his face was striped alternately with this natural color
+and with blue. Two inches of the <i>ama</i> ink ran across the eyes from
+ear to ear, covering every inch of lid and eyebrow, and from this
+seeming bandage his eyes gleamed with quick and alert intelligence.
+Other stripes crossed the face from temple to chin, the lowest
+joining the field of blue that stretched to his waist.</p>
+
+<p>His beard, long, heavy, and snow-white, swept downward over the
+indigo flesh and was gathered into a knot on his massive chest. It
+was the beard of a prophet or a seer, and when Kahauiti rose to his
+full height, six feet and a half, he was as majestic as a man in
+diadem and royal robes. He had a giant form, like one of
+Buonarroti's ancients, muscular and supple, graceful and erect.</p>
+
+<p>When I was presented as a <i>Menike</i> who loved the Marquesans and who,
+having heard of Kahauiti, would drink of his fountain of
+recollections, the old man looked at me intently. His eyes twinkled
+and he opened his mouth in a broad smile, showing all his teeth,
+sound and white. His smile was kindly, disarming, of a real
+sweetness that conquered me immediately, so that, foolishly perhaps,
+I would have trusted him if he had suggested a stroll in the jungle.</p>
+
+<p>He took my extended hand, but did not shake it. So new is
+handshaking and so foreign to their ideas of greeting, that they
+merely touch fingers, with the pressure a rich man gives a poor
+relation, or a king, a commoner. His affability was that of a
+monarch to a courtier, but when he began to talk he soon became
+simple and merry.</p>
+
+<p>Motioning me to a seat on the mat before him, he squatted again in a
+dignified manner, and resumed his task of plaiting a rope of <i>faufee</i>
+bark, a rope an inch thick and perfectly made.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mouth of God, of the family of Sliced and Distributed and Man Whose
+Entrails Were Roasted On A Stick, has told me of the slaying of
+Tufetu, their ancestor,&rdquo; I ventured, to steer our bark of
+conversation into the channel I sought.</p>
+
+<p>At the names of the first three, Kahauiti smiled, but when Tufetu
+was mentioned, he broke into a roar. I had evidently recalled proud
+memories. On his haunches, he slid nearer to me.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Afu! Afu! Afu!</i>&rdquo; he said, the sound that in his tongue means the
+groan of the dying. &ldquo;You came by the <i>Fatueki?</i>&rdquo;.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I tasted the water and smelled the smell,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was there that Tufetu died,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;I struck the blow,
+and I ate his arm, his right arm, for he was brave and strong. That
+was a war!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What caused that war?&rdquo; I asked the merry cannibal.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A woman, <i>haa teketeka</i>, an unfaithful woman, as always,&rdquo; replied
+Kahauiti. &ldquo;Do you have trouble over women in your island? Yes. It is
+the same the world over. There was peace between Atuona and Taaoa
+before this trouble. When I was a boy we were good friends. We
+visited across the hills. Many children were adopted, and Taaoa men
+took women from Atuona, and Atuona men from here. Some of these
+women had two or three or five men. One husband was the father of
+her children in title and pride, though he might be no father at all.
+The others shared the mat with her at her will, but had no
+possession or happiness in the offspring.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr35"></a>
+<a href="images/img35.jpg"><img src="images/thumb35.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Tepu, a Marquesan girl of the hills, and her sister<br/>
+Her ancestry is tattooed on her arms</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr36"></a>
+<a href="images/img36.jpg"><img src="images/thumb36.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A tattooed Marquesan with carved canoe paddle</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now Pepehi (Beaten to Death) was of Taaoa, but lived in Atuona with
+a woman. He had followed her over the hills and lived in her house.
+He was father to her children. There was a man of Atuona, Kaheutahi,
+who was husband to her, but of lower rank. He was not father to her
+children. Therefore one night he swung his war-club upon the head of
+Beaten to Death, and later invited a number of friends to the feast.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kahuiti smiled gently upon me. Take off his tattooing, make him white,
+and clothe him! With his masterful carriage, his soft, cultivated
+voice, and his attitude of absolutism, he might have been Leopold,
+King of the Belgians, a great ambassador, a man of power in finance.
+Nevertheless, I thought of the death by the Stinking Springs. How
+could one explain his benign, open-souled deportment and his cheery
+laugh, with such damnable appetites and actions? Yet generals send
+ten thousand men to certain and agonized death to gain a point
+toward a goal; that is the custom of generals, by which they gain
+honor among their people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Killed by the war-club of Kaheutahi and eaten by his friends,
+Beaten to Death was but a ghost, and Kaheutahi took his place and
+became father of the children of the house. He said they were his in
+fact, but men were ever boastful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The other old man, who said nothing, but was all attention, lit a
+pipe and passed it to Kahuiti, who puffed it a moment and passed it
+to Strong in Battle. The tale lapsed for a smoking spell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beaten to Death perished by the club? He was well named,&rdquo; said I.
+&ldquo;His father was a prophet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kahuiti began to chant in a weird monotone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Va! Va! A tahi a ta! Va! A tahi va! A ua va! A tou va!</i>&rdquo; was his
+chant. &ldquo;Thus said the war-club as it crashed on the skull of Beaten
+to Death. That is the speech of the war-club when it strikes. The
+bones of Beaten to Death were fishhooks before we knew of his death.
+All Taaoa was angry. The family of Beaten to Death demanded vengeance.
+The priest went into the High Place, and when he came out he ran all
+day up and down the valley, until he fell foaming. War was the cry
+of the gods, war against Atuona.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there was too much peace between us, too many men with Atuona
+women, too many Atuona children adopted by Taaoa women. The peace
+was happy, and there was no great warrior to urge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You had brave men and strong men then,&rdquo; I said, with a sigh for the
+things I had missed by coming late.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Tuitui!</i> You put weeds in my mouth!&rdquo; exclaimed Kahuiti. &ldquo;I cannot
+talk with your words. <i>Ue te etau!</i> By the great god of the dead! I
+am born before the French beached a canoe in the Marquesas. Our gods
+were gods then, but they turned to wood and stone when the tree-guns
+of the <i>Farani</i> roared and threw iron balls and fire into our valleys.
+The Christian god was greater than our gods, and a bigger killer of
+men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Beaten to Death&mdash;?&rdquo; I urged.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beaten to Death was in the stomachs of the men of Atuona, and they
+laughed at us. Our High Priest said that the <i>Euututuki</i>, the most
+private god of the priests, commanded us to avenge the eating of
+Beaten to Death. But the season of preserving the <i>mei</i> in pits was
+upon us. Also the women of Atuona among us said that there should be
+peace, and the women of Taaoa who had taken as their own many
+children from Atuona. Therefore we begged the most high gods to
+excuse us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Women had much power then,&rdquo; I said.</p>
+
+<p>Kahuiti chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The French god and the priests of the <i>Farani</i> have taken it from
+them,&rdquo; he commented. &ldquo;I have known the day when women ruled. She had
+her husbands,&mdash;two, four, five. She commanded. She would send two to
+the fishing, one to gathering cocoanuts or wood, one she would keep
+to amuse her. They came and went as she said. That was <i>mea pe</i>!
+Sickening! <i>Pee!</i> There are not enough men to make a woman happy.
+Many brave men have died to please their woman, but&mdash;&rdquo; He blew out
+his breath in contempt.</p>
+
+<p>Strong in Battle said aside, in French:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was never second in the house. Kahauiti despised such men. He
+was first always.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So the slaying of Beaten to Death was unavenged?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Epo!</i> Do not drink the cocoanut till you have descended the tree!
+I have said the warriors were withheld by the women, and there was
+no great man to lead. Yet the drums beat at night, and the fighting
+men came. You know how the drums speak?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His face clouded, and his eyes flashed against their foil of
+tattooing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'<i>Ohe te pepe! Ohe te pepe! Ohe te pepe!</i>' said the drum called
+Peepee. '<i>Titiutiuti! Titiutiuti!</i>' said the drum called Umi.
+<i>Aue!</i> Then the warriors came! They stood in the High Place at the
+head of the valley. Mehitete, the chief, spoke to them. He said that
+they should go to Atuona, and bring back bodies for feasting. Many
+nights the drums beat, and the chief talked much, but there was no
+war.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The High Priest went to the <i>Pekia</i> again, and when he came away he
+ran without stopping for two days and a night, till he fell without
+breath, as one dead, and foam was on his mouth. The gods were angry.
+Still there was no war.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then came Tomefitu from Vait-hua. He was chief of that valley,
+having been adopted by a woman of Vait-hua, but his father and his
+mother were of Taaoa. He had heard of the slaying of Beaten to Death,
+his kinsman, and he was hot in the bowels. <i>Aue!</i> The thunder of the
+heavens was as the voice of Tomefitu when angered. The earth groaned
+where he walked. He knew the <i>Farani</i> and their tricks. He had guns
+from the whalers, and he was afraid of nothing save the Ghost Woman
+of the Night. Again the warriors came to the High Place, and now
+there were many drums.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kahuiti sprang to his feet. He struck the corner post of the hut
+with his fist. His eyes burned.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Kaputuhe! Kaputuhe! Kaputuhe!<br>
+&nbsp;Teputuhe! Teputuhe! Teputuhe!<br>
+&nbsp;Tuti! Tuti! Tutuituiti!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was what the war drums said. The sound of them rolled from the
+Pekia, and every man who could throw a spear or hold a war-club came
+to their call.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kahuiti's soul was rapt in the story. His voice had the deep tone of
+the violoncello, powerful, vibrant, and colorful. He had lived in
+that strange past, and the things he recalled were precious memories.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the drums, as he echoed them in the curious tone-words
+of Marquesan, thrilled me through. I heard the booming of the
+ten-foot war-drums, their profound and far-reaching call like the
+roaring of lions in the jungle. I saw the warriors with their spears
+of cocoanut-wood and their deadly clubs of ironwood carved and
+shining with oil, their baskets of polished stones slung about their
+waists, and their slings of fiber, dancing in the sacred grove of
+the Pekia, its shadows lighted by the blaze of the flickering
+candlenuts and the scented sandalwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I am The Wind That Lays Low The Mighty Tree. I am The Wave That
+Fills The Canoe and Delivers The People To The Sharks!&rsquo; said Tomefitu.
+&lsquo;The flesh of my kinsman fills the bellies of the men of Atuona, and
+the gods say war!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;There is war!&rsquo; said Tomefitu. &lsquo;We must bring offerings to the gods.
+Five men will go with me to Otoputo and bring back the gifts. I will
+bring back to you the bodies of six of the Atuona pigs. Prepare!
+When we have eaten, the chiefs of Atuona will come to Taaoa, and
+then you will fight!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Make ready with dancing. Polish spears and gather stones for the
+slings. Koe, who is my man, will be obeyed while I am gone. I have
+spoken,&rsquo; said Tomefitu. That night Tomefitu and I, with four others,
+went silently to Otoputo, the dividing rock that looks down on the
+right into the valley of Taaoa and on the left into Atuona. There we
+lay among rocks and bushes and spied upon the feet of the enemy.
+That man who separated himself from others and came our way to seek
+food, or to visit at the house of a friend, him we secretly fell upon,
+and slew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thus we did to the six named by Tomefitu, and as we killed them, we
+sent them back by others to the High Place. There the warriors
+feasted upon them and gained strength for battle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, missing so many of their clan, the head men of Atuona came to
+Otoputo, and shouted to us to give word of the absent. We shouted
+back, saying that those men had been roasted upon the fire and eaten,
+and that thus we would do to all men of Atuona. And we laughed at
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kahuiti emitted a hearty guffaw at thought of the trick played upon
+those devoured enemies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Tufetu, the grandfather of my friend Mouth of God?&rdquo; I persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Epo!</i> There was war. The men of Atuona gathered at Otupoto, and
+rushed down upon us. We met them at the Stinking Springs, and there
+I killed Tufetu, uncle of Sliced and Distributed and Man Whose
+Entrails Were Roasted On A Stick. I pierced him through with my
+spear at a cocoanut-tree's length away. I was the best spear-thrower
+of Taaoa. We drove the Atuonans through the gorge of the Stinking
+Springs and over the divide, and I ate the right arm of Tufetu that
+had wielded the war-club. That gives a man the strength of his enemy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He turned again to plaiting the rope of <i>faufee</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>O ia aneihe</i>, I have finished,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Will you drink <i>kava</i>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I will not drink <i>kava</i>,&rdquo; I said sternly. &ldquo;Kahuiti, is it not
+good that the eating of men is stopped?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The majestic chief looked at me, his deep brown eyes looking
+child-like in their band of blue ink. For ten seconds he stared at
+me fixedly, and then smiled uncertainly, as may have Peter the
+fisherman when he was chided for cutting off the ear of one of
+Judas' soldiers. He was of the old order, and the new had left him
+unchanged. He did not reply to my question, but sipped his bowl of
+<i>kava</i>.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The crime of Huahine for love of Weaver of Mats; story of Tahia's
+white man who was eaten; the disaster that befell Honi, the white
+man who used his harpoon against his friends.</i></p>
+
+<p>During my absence in Taaoa there had been crime and scandal in my
+own valley. André Bauda met me on the beach road as I returned and
+told me the tale. The giant Tahitian sailor of the schooner <i>Papeite</i>,
+Huahine, was in the local jail, charged with desertion; a serious
+offense, to which his plea was love of a woman, and that woman
+Weaver of Mats, who had her four names tattooed on her right arm.</p>
+
+<p>Huahine, seeing her upon the beach, had felt a flame of love that
+nerved him to risk hungry shark and battering surf. Carried from her
+even in the moment of meeting, he had resisted temptation until the
+schooner was sailing outside the Bay of Traitors, running before a
+breeze to the port of Tai-o-hae, and then he had flung himself naked
+into the sea and taken the straight course back to Atuona, reaching
+his sweetheart after a seven-hour's struggle with current and breaker.
+Flag, the gendarme, found him in her hut, and brought him to the
+calaboose.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning I attended his trial. He came before his judge
+elegantly dressed, for, besides a red <i>pareu</i> about his middle, he
+wore a pink silk shawl over his shoulders. Both were the gift of
+Weaver of Mats, as he had come to her without scrip or scrap. He
+needed little clothing, as his skin was very brown and his strong
+body magnificent.</p>
+
+<p>He was an acceptable prisoner to Bauda, who had charge of the making
+and repair of roads and bridges, so Huahine was quickly sentenced
+and put to work with others who were paying their taxes by labor.
+Weaver of Mats moved with him to the prison, where they lived
+together happily, cooking their food in the garden and sleeping on
+mats beneath the palms.</p>
+
+<p>On all the <i>paepaes</i> it was said that Huahine would probably be sent
+to Tahiti, as there are strict laws against deserting ships and
+against vagabondage in the Marquesas. Meantime the prisoner was happy.
+Many a Tahitian and white sailor gazes toward these islands as a
+haven from trouble, and in Huahine's exploit I read the story of
+many a poor white who in the early days cast away home and friends
+and arduous toil to dwell here in a breadfruity harem.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is a tale told long ago by a man of Hanamenu to a traveler
+named Christian,&rdquo; I said to Haabunai, the carver, while we sat
+rolling pandanus cigarettes in the cool of the evening. &ldquo;It runs thus:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some thirty years ago a sailor from a trading schooner that had put
+into the bay for sandalwood was badly treated by his skipper, who
+refused him shore-leave. So, his bowels hot with anger, this sailor
+determined to desert his hard and unthanked toil, wed some island
+heiress, and live happy ever after. Therefore one evening he swam
+ashore, found a maid to his liking, and was hidden by her until the
+ship departed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now Tahia was a good wife, and loved her beautiful white man; all
+that a wife could do she did, cooking his food, bathing his feet,
+rolling cigarettes for him all day long as he lay upon the mats. But
+her father in time became troubled, and there was grumbling among the
+people, for the white man would not work.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He would not climb the palm to bring down the nuts; he lay and
+laughed on his <i>paepae</i> in the Meinui, the season of breadfruit,
+when all were busy; and when they brought him rusty old muskets to
+care for, he turned his back upon them. Sometimes he fished, going
+out in a canoe that Tahia paddled, and making her fix the bait on
+the hook, but he caught few fish.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;<i>Aue te hanahana, aua ho'i te kaikai</i>,&rsquo; said his father-in-law. &lsquo;He
+who will not labor, neither shall he eat.&rsquo; But the white man laughed
+and ate and labored not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A season passed and another, and there came a time of little rain.
+The bananas were few, and the breadfruit were not plentiful. One
+evening, therefore, the old men met in conference, and this was
+their decision: &lsquo;Rats are becoming a nuisance, and we will abate them.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Next morning the father sent Tahia on an errand to another valley.
+Then men began to dig a large oven in the earth before Tahia's house,
+where the white man lay on the mats at ease. Presently he looked and
+wondered and looked again. And at length he rose and came down to
+the oven, saying, &lsquo;What's up?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Plenty <i>kaikai</i>. Big pig come by and by,&rsquo; they said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So he stood waiting while they dug, and no pig came. Then he said,
+&lsquo;Where is the pig?&rsquo; And at that moment the <i>u'u</i> crashed upon his
+skull, so that he fell without life and lay in the oven. Wood was
+piled about him, and he was baked, and there was feasting in Hanamenu.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the twilight Tahia came over the hills, weary and hungry, and
+asked for her white man. &lsquo;He has gone to the beach,&rsquo; they said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He will return soon, therefore sit and eat, my daughter,&rdquo; said her
+father, and gave her the meat wrapped in leaves. So she ate heartily,
+and waited for her husband. And all the feasters laughed at her, so
+that little by little she learned the truth. She said nothing, but
+went away in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And it is written, Haabunai, that searchers for the <i>mei</i> came upon
+her next day in the upper valley, and she was hanging from a tall
+palm-tree with a rope of <i>purau</i> about her neck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That may be a true story,&rdquo; said Haabunai. &ldquo;Though it is the custom
+here to eat the <i>eva</i> when one is made sick by life. And very few
+white men were ever eaten in the islands, because they knew too much
+and were claimed by some woman of power.&rdquo; He paused for a moment to
+puff his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now there was a sailor whom my grandfather ate, and he was white.
+But there was ample cause for that, for never was a man so provoking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was a harpooner on a whale-ship, a man who made much money, but
+he liked rum, and when his ship left he stayed behind. They sent two
+boats ashore and searched for him, but my grandfather sent my father
+with him into the hills, and after three days the captain thought he
+had been drowned, and sailed away without him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My grandfather gave him my father's sister to wife, and like that
+man of whom you told, he was much loved by her, though he would do
+nothing but make <i>namu enata</i> and drink it and dance and sleep.
+Grandfather said that he could dance strange dances of the sailor
+that made them all laugh until their ribs were sore.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This man, whose name was Honi&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Honi?&rdquo; said I. &ldquo;I do not know that word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor I. It is not Marquesan. It was his name, that he bore on the
+ship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Honi?&rdquo; I repeated incredulously, and then light broke. &ldquo;You mean
+Jones?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It may be. I do not know. Honi was his name, as my grandfather said
+it. And this Honi had brought from the whale-ship a gun and a harpoon.
+This harpoon had a head of iron and was fixed on a spear, with a
+long rope tied to the head, so that when it was thrust into the
+whale he was fastened to the boat that pursued him through the water.
+There was no weapon like it on the island, and it was much admired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Honi fought with us when our tribe, the Papuaei, went to war with
+the Tiu of Taaoa. He used his gun, and with it he won many battles,
+until he had killed so many of the enemy that they asked for peace.
+Honi was praised by our tribe, and a fine house was built for him
+near the river, in the place where eels and shrimp were best.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In this large house he drank more than in the other smaller one. He
+used his gun to kill pigs and even birds. My grandfather reproved
+him for wasting the powder, when pigs could easily be killed with
+spears. But Honi would not listen, and he continued to kill until he
+had no more powder. Then he quarreled with my grandfather, and one
+day, being drunk, he tried to kill him, and then fled to the
+Kau-i-te-oho, the tribe of redheaded people at Hanahupe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Learning that Honi was no longer with us, the Tiu tribe of Taaoa
+declared war again, and the red-headed tribe had an alliance with
+them through their chief's families intermarrying, so that Honi
+fought with them. His gun being without powder, he took his harpoon,
+and he came with the Tui and the Kau-i-te-oho to the dividing-line
+between the valleys where we used to fight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where the precipices reared their middle points between the valleys,
+the tribes met and reviled one another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You people with hair like cooked shrimp! Are you ready for the
+ovens of our valley?&rsquo; cried my grandfather's warriors.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You little men, who run so fast, we have now your white warrior
+with us, and you shall die by the hundreds!&rsquo; yelled our enemies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This picture of the scene at the line was characteristic of
+Polynesian warfare. It is almost exactly like the meeting of armies
+long ago in Palestine and Syria, and before the walls of Troy.
+Goliath slanged David grossly, threatening to give his body to the
+fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, and David retorted in
+kind. So, when Ulysses launched his spear at Soccus, he cried:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;Ah, wretch, no father shall they corpse compose,</span>
+<span>Thy dying eye no tender mother close;</span>
+<span>But hungry birds shall tear those balls away,</span>
+<span>And hungry vultures scream around their prey.&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For a quarter of an hour,&rdquo; said Haabunai, &ldquo;my grandfather's people
+and the warriors of the enemy called thus to each other upon the top
+of the cliffs, and then Honi and the brother of my grandfather, head
+men of either side, advanced to battle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The first time Honi threw his harpoon, he hooked my great-uncle. He
+hooked him through the middle, and before he could be saved, a half
+dozen of the Tiu men pulled on the rope and dragged him over the line
+to be killed and eaten.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two more of our tribe Honi snared with this devilish spear, and it
+was not so much death as being pulled over to them and roasted that
+galled us. All day the battle raged, except when both sides stopped
+by agreement to eat <i>popoi</i> and rest, but late in the afternoon a
+strange thing happened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Honi had thrown his harpoon, and by bad aim it entered a tree. The
+end of the line he had about his left arm, and as he tried to pull
+out the spear-head from the wood, his legs became entangled in the
+rope, and my grandfather, who was very strong, seized the rope near
+the tree, dragged the white man over the line, and killed him with a
+rock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The enemy ran away then, and that night our people ate Honi.
+Grandfather said his flesh was so tough they had to boil it. There
+were no <i>tipoti</i> (Standard-oil cans) in those days, but our people
+took banana leaves and formed a big cup that would hold a couple of
+quarts of water, and into these they put red-hot stones, and the
+water boiled. Grandfather said they cut Honi into small pieces and
+boiled him in many of these cups. Still he was tough, but
+nevertheless they ate him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Honi was tattooed. Not like Marquesans, but like some white sailors,
+he had certain marks on him. Grandfather saved these marks, and wore
+them as a <i>tiki</i>, or amulet, until he died, when he gave it to me. He
+had preserved the skin so that it did not spoil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Haabunai yawned and said his mouth was parched from much talking,
+but when a shell of rum was set before him and he had drunk, he
+fetched from his house the <i>tiki</i>. It was as large as my hand, dark
+and withered, but with a magnifying glass I could see a rude cross
+and three letters, I&nbsp;H&nbsp;S in blue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Grandfather became a Christian and was no longer an <i>enata Ttaikaia</i>,
+an eater of men, but he kept the <i>tiki</i> always about his neck,
+because he thought it gave him strength,&rdquo; said my guest.</p>
+
+<p>I handed him back the gruesome relic, though he began advances to
+make it my property. For the full demijohn he would have parted with
+the <i>tiki</i> that had been his grandfather's, but I had no fancy for it.
+One can buy in Paris purses of human skin for not much more than one
+of alligator hide.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Honi must have been very tough,&rdquo; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He must have been,&rdquo; Haabunai said regretfully. &ldquo;Grandfather had his
+teeth to the last. He would never eat a child. Like all warriors he
+preferred for vengeance's sake the meat of another fighter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had not yet sprung the grim jest of almost all cannibalistic
+narratives. I did not ask if Honi's wife had eaten of him, as had
+Tahia of her white man. It is probable that she did, and that they
+deceived her. It was the practical joke of those days.</p>
+
+<p>I had seen Apporo, my landlady, staggering homeward a few days
+earlier in a pitiful state of intoxication. Some one had given her a
+glass of mixed absinthe, vermuth, and rum, and with confidence in
+the giver she had tossed it down. That is the kind of joke that in
+other days would have been the deluding of some one into partaking
+of the flesh of a lover or friend.</p>
+
+<p>Reasoning from our standpoint, it is easy to assume that cannibalism
+is a form of depravity practised by few peoples, but this error is
+dispelled by the researches of ethnologists, who inform us that it
+was one of the most ancient customs of man and began when he was
+close brother to the ape. Livingstone, when he came upon it on the
+Dark continent, concluded that the negroes came to that horrible
+desire from their liking for the meat of gorillas, which so nearly
+approach man in appearance. Herodatus, writing twenty-five hundred
+years ago, mentions the Massagetae who boiled the flesh of their
+old folks with that of cattle, both killed for the occasion.
+Cannibalism marked the life of all peoples in days of savagery.</p>
+
+<p>Plutarch says that Cataline's associates gave proof of their loyalty
+to that agitator and to one another by sacrificing and eating a man.
+Achilles expressed his wish that he might devour Hector. The Kafirs
+ate their own children in the famine of 1857, and the Germans ate
+one another when starvation maddened them, long after Maryland and
+Massachusetts had become thriving settlements in the New World.
+There is a historic instance of a party of American pioneers lost in
+the mountains of California in the nineteenth century, who in their
+last extremity of hunger ate several of the party.</p>
+
+<p>To devour dead relatives, to kill and eat the elders, to feast upon
+slaves and captives, even for mothers to eat their children, were
+religious and tribal rites for many tens of thousands of years. We
+have records of these customs spread over the widest areas of the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>Undoubtedly cannibalism began as a question of food supply. In early
+times when man, emerging from the purely animal stage, was without
+agricultural skill, and lived in caves or trees, his fellow was his
+easiest prey. The great beasts were too fierce and powerful for his
+feeble weapons except when luck favored him, and the clan or family,
+or even the single brave hunter, sought the man-meat by stealth or
+combat, or in tunes of stress ate those nearest and dearest.</p>
+
+<p>Specially among peoples whose principal diet is heavy, starchy food,
+such as the breadfruit, the demand for meat is keen. I saw Marquesan
+women eating insects, worms, and other repellant bits of flesh out of
+sheer instinct and stomachic need. When salt is not to be had, the
+desire for meat is most intense. In these valleys the upper tribes,
+whose enemies shut them off from the sea with its salt and fish,
+were the most persistent cannibals, and the same condition exists in
+Africa to-day, where the interior tribes eat any corpse, while none
+of the coast tribes are guilty.</p>
+
+<p>As the passion for cannibalistic feasts grew,&mdash;and it became a
+passion akin to the opium habit in some,&mdash;the supply of other meat
+had little to do with its continuance. In New Britain human bodies
+were sold in the shops; in the Solomon Islands victims were fattened
+like cattle, and on the upper Congo an organized traffic is carried
+on in these empty tenements of the human soul.</p>
+
+<p>Although cannibalism originated in a bodily need, man soon gave it
+an emotional and spiritual meaning, as he has given them to all
+customs that have their root in his physical being. Two forms of
+cannibalism seem to have existed among the first historic peoples.
+One was concerned with the eating of relatives and intimates, for
+friendship's sake or to gain some good quality they possessed. Thus
+when babies died, the Chavante mothers, on the Uruguay, ate them to
+regain their souls. Russians ate their fathers, and the Irish, if
+Strabo is to be credited, thought it good to eat both deceased
+parents. The Lhopa of Sikkim, in Tibet, eat the bride's mother at
+the wedding feast.</p>
+
+<p>But Maori cannibalism, with its best exposition in the Marquesas,
+was due to a desire for revenge, cooking and eating being the
+greatest of insults. It was an expression of jingoism, a hatred for
+all outside the tribe or valley, and it made the feud between
+valleys almost incessant.</p>
+
+<p>It was in no way immoral, for morals are the best traditions and
+ways of each race, and here the eating of enemies was authorized by
+every teaching of priest and leader, by time-honored custom and the
+strongest dictates of nature.</p>
+
+<p>White men and Chinese, in fact, all foreigners, were seldom eaten
+here. There were exceptions when vengeance impelled, such at that of
+Honi or Jones, whom Haabunai's grandfather ate, but as a rule they
+were spared and indeed cherished, as strange visitors who might
+teach the people useful things. Only their own depravity brought
+them to the oven.</p>
+
+<p>At such times, the feast was even a disagreeable rite. It is a fact
+that the Marquesan disliked the flesh of a white man. They said he
+was too salty. Hundreds of years ago the Aztecs, according to Bernal
+Diaz, who was there, complained that &ldquo;the flesh of the Spaniards
+failed to afford even nourishment, since it was intolerably bitter.&rdquo;
+This, though the Indians were dying of starvation by hundreds of
+thousands in the merciless siege of Mexico City.</p>
+
+<p>Standards of barbarity vary. Horrible and revolting as the very
+mention of cannibalism is to us, it should be remembered that it
+rested upon an attitude toward the foreigner and the slave that in
+some degree still persists everywhere in the world. Outside the tribe,
+the savage recognized no kindred humanity. Members of every clan
+save his own were regarded as strange and contemptible beings,
+outlandish and barbarous in manners and customs, not to be regarded
+as sharers of a common birthright. This attitude toward the stranger
+did not at all prevent the cannibal from being, within his own tribe,
+a gentle, merry, and kindly individual.</p>
+
+<p>Even toward the stranger the Marquesan was never guilty of torture
+of any kind. Though they slew and ate, they had none of the
+refinements of cruelty of the Romans, not even scalping enemies as
+did the Scythians, Visigoths, Franks, and Anglo-Saxons. In their most
+bloody wars they often paused in battle to give the enemy time to
+eat and to rest, and there is no record of their ever ringing a
+valley about with armed warriors and starving to death the women and
+children within. Victims for the gods were struck down without
+warning, so that they might not suffer even the pangs of anticipation.
+The thumb-screw and rack of Christendom struck with horror those of
+my cannibal friends to whom I mentioned them.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The memorable game for the matches in the cocoanut-grove of Lam Kai
+Oo.</i></p>
+
+<p>Parables are commonly found in books. In a few words on a printed
+page one sees a universal problem made small and clear, freed from
+those large uncertainties and whimsies of chance that make life in
+the whole so confusing to the vision. It was my fortune to see, in
+the valley of Atuona on Hiva-oa, a series of incidents which were
+at the time a whirl of unbelievable merriment, yet which slowly
+clarified themselves into a parable, while I sat later considering
+them on the leaf-shaded <i>paepae</i> of the House of the Golden Bed.</p>
+
+<p>They began one afternoon when I dropped down to the palace to have a
+smoke with M. L'Hermier des Plantes, the governor. As I mounted the
+steps I beheld on the veranda the governor, stern, though perspiring,
+in his white ducks, confronting a yellowish stranger on crutches who
+pleaded in every tone of anguish for some boon denied him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Non!</i> No! <i>Ned!</i>&rdquo; said the governor, poly-linguistically emphatic.
+&ldquo;It cannot be done!&rdquo; He dropped into a chair and poured himself an
+inch of Pernod, as the defeated suitor turned to me in despair.</p>
+
+<p>He was short and of a jaundiced hue, his soft brown eyes set
+slightly aslant. Although lame, he had an alertness and poise
+unusual in the sea's spawn of these beaches. In Tahitian, Marquesan,
+and French, with now and then an English word, he explained that he,
+a Tahitian marooned on Hiva-oa from a schooner because of a broken
+leg, wished to pass the tedium of his exile in an innocent game of
+cards.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I desire a mere permission to buy two packs of cards at the
+Chinaman's,&rdquo; he begged. &ldquo;I would teach my neighbors here the <i>jeu de</i>
+pokaree. I have learned it on a voyage to San Francisco. It is
+Americaine. It is like life, not altogether luck. One must think
+well to play it. I doubt not that you know that game.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now gambling is forbidden in these isles. It is told that throughout
+the southern oceans such a madness possessed the people to play the
+white men's games of chance that in order to prevent constant
+bloodshed in quarrels a strict interdiction was made by the
+conquerors. Of course whites here are always excepted from such
+sin-stopping rules, and merchants keep a small stock of cards for
+their indulgence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why two packs?&rdquo; I asked the agitated Tahitian.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mais, Monsieur</i>, that is the way I was taught. We played with ten
+or fourteen in the circle, and as it is merely <i>pour passer le temps</i>,
+more of my poor brother Kanakas can enjoy it with two packs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was positively abased, for no Tahitian says &ldquo;<i>Kanaka</i>&rdquo; of himself.
+It is a term of contempt. He might call his fellow so, but only as
+an American negro says &ldquo;nigger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him closely. Some gesture, the suggested slant of his
+brows, the thin lips, reminded me of a certain &ldquo;son of Ah Cum&rdquo; who
+guided me into disaster in Canton, saying, &ldquo;Mis'r Rud Kippeling he
+go one time befo'.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your name?&rdquo; I asked in hope of confirmation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Lalala,&rdquo; he replied, while the smile that started in his eyes was
+killed by his tightening lips. &ldquo;I am French, for my grandfather was
+of Annam under the tri-color, and my mother of Tahiti-iti.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now fourteen-handed poker, with O Lalala as instructor to those
+ignorant of the game, the code of which was written by a United
+States diplomat, appealed to me as more than a passing of the time.
+It would be an episode in the valley. My patriotism was stimulated.
+I called the governor aside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This poker,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;is not like écarté or baccarat. It is a study
+of character, a matching of minds, a thing we call bluff, we
+Americans. These poor Marquesans must have some fun. Let him do it!
+No harm can come of it. It is far to Paris, where the laws are made.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The governor turned to O Lalala.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No stakes!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mais, non!</i> Not a <i>sou</i>!&rdquo; the lame man promised. &ldquo;We will use only
+matches for counters. <i>Merci, merci, Monsieur l'Administrateur!</i> You
+are very good. Please, will you give me now the note to Ah You?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As he limped away with it, the governor poured me an inch of absinthe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Sapristi!</i>&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;O Lalala! O, la, la, la!&rdquo; He burst into
+laughter. &ldquo;He will play ze bloff?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I spent that evening with Kriech, the German trader of Taka-Uka.
+Over our Hellaby beef and Munich beer we talked of copra and the
+beautiful girls of Buda-Pesth, of the contemplated effort of the
+French government to monopolize the island trade by subsidizing a
+corporation, and of the incident of the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>Herr Doktor</i> is new,&rdquo; said Kriech, with a wag of his head.
+&ldquo;That O Lalala! I have heard that that poker iss very dansherous.
+That Prince Hanoi of Papeite lose his tam headt to a Chinaman.
+Something comes of this foolishnesses!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At midnight I had again gained the House of the Golden Bed and had
+lain down to sleep when on the breeze from up the valley there came
+a strangely familiar sound to my upper ear. I sat up, listening. In
+the dark silence, with no wind to rustle the breadfruit and
+cocoanut-trees, and only the brook faintly murmuring below, I heard
+a low babble of voices. No word was distinguishable, not even the
+language, yet curiously the sound had a rhythm that I knew.</p>
+
+<p>I have heard from a distance preaching in many languages. Though
+only the cadences, the pauses, and rhythm reached me, I had no
+difficulty in knowing their origin and meaning. Thought casts the
+mold of all speech. Now my drowsy mind harked back to American days,
+to scenes in homes and clubs.</p>
+
+<p>I rose, and wrapping the loin-cloth about me, set out with a lantern
+in search of that sound. It led me down the trail, across the brook,
+and up the slope into the dense green growth of the mountain-side.
+Beyond I saw lights in the cocoanut-grove of Lam Kai Oo.</p>
+
+<p>My bare feet made no noise, and through the undergrowth I peered
+upon as odd a sight as ever pleased a lover of the bizarre. A blaze
+of torches lighted a cleared space among the tall palm columns, and
+in the flickering red glow a score of naked, tattooed figures
+crouched about a shining mat of sugar-cane. About them great piles
+of yellow-boxed Swedish matches caught the light, and on the cane
+mat shone the red and white and black of the cards.</p>
+
+<p>O Lalala sat facing me, absorbed in the game. At his back the yellow
+boxes were piled high, his crutch propped against them, and
+continually he speeded the play by calling out, &ldquo;Passy, calley or
+makum bigger!&rdquo; &ldquo;Comely center!&rdquo; or, &ldquo;Ante uppy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>These were the sounds that had swept my memory back to civilization
+and drawn me from my Golden Bed. O Lalala had all the slang of
+poker&mdash;the poker of the waterfronts of San Francisco and of
+Shanghai&mdash;and evidently he had already taught his eager pupils that
+patois.</p>
+
+<p>They crouched about the mat, bent forward in their eagerness, and
+the flickering light caught twisting mouths and eyes ringed with
+tattooing. Over their heads the torches flared, held by breathless
+onlookers. The candlenuts, threaded on long spines of cocoanut-leaves,
+blazed only a few seconds, but each dying one lit the one beneath as
+it sputtered out, and the scores of strings shed a continuous though
+wavering light upon the shining mat and the cards.</p>
+
+<p>The midnight darkness of the enclosing grove and the vague columns
+of the palms, upholding the rustling canopy that hid the sky, hinted
+at some monstrous cathedral where heathen rites were celebrated.</p>
+
+<p>I pushed through the fringe of onlookers, none of whom heeded me,
+and found Apporo and Exploding Eggs holding torches. The madness of
+play was upon them. The sad placidity of every day was gone; as in
+the throes of the dance they kept their gleaming eyes upon the
+fluctuations of fortune before them. Twice I spoke sharply before
+they heard me, and then in a frenzy of supplication Apporo threw
+herself upon me.</p>
+
+<p>Would I not give her matches&mdash;the packets of matches that were under
+the Golden Bed? She and her husband, Great Fern, had spent but an
+hour in the magic circle ere they were denuded of their every match.
+Couriers were even now scouring the valley for more matches. Quick,
+hasten! Even now it might be that the packets under the Golden Bed
+were gone!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surely, then, come,&rdquo; I said, struck by an incredible possibility.
+Could it be that the crafty O Lalala&mdash;absurd! But Apporo, hurrying
+before me down the lantern-lighted trail, confirmed my suspicions.</p>
+
+<p>O Lalala had stated and put into effect the prohibition of any other
+stakes other than the innocent matches&mdash;mere counters&mdash;which he had
+mentioned to the governor. But swift messengers had heralded
+throughout the valley that there would be gambling&mdash;authorized
+<i>par gouvernement</i>&mdash;in Lam Kai Go's plantation, and already the
+cards had been shuffled for seven or eight hours. Throughout all
+Atuona matches had been given an extraordinary and superlative value.
+To the farthest huts on the rim of the valley the cry was &ldquo;Matches!&rdquo;
+And as fast as they arrived, O Lalala won them.</p>
+
+<p>We hastened into my cabin, and Apporo was beneath the Golden Bed ere
+the rays of my lantern fell upon the floor. The packets had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Exploding Eggs!&rdquo; cried Apporo, her dark eyes tolling in rage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;he is honest,&rdquo; I objected.</p>
+
+<p>In such a crisis, she muttered, all standards were naught. Exploding
+Eggs had been one of the first squatters at the sugar-cane mat.
+&ldquo;The Bishop himself would trade the holy-water fonts for matches,
+were he as thirsty to play as I am!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There were no more matches in the valleys of Atuona or Taka-Uka, she
+said. Every dealer had sold out. Every house had been invaded. The
+losers had begged, borrowed, or given articles of great value for
+matches. The accursed Tahitian had them all but a few now being waged.
+Defeated players were even now racing over the mountains in the
+darkness, ransacking each hut for more.</p>
+
+<p>The reputation of Hiva-oa, of the island itself, was at stake. A
+foreigner had dishonored their people, or would if they did not win
+back what he had gained from them. She was half Chinese; her
+father's soul was concerned. He had died in this very room. To save
+his face in death she would give back even her interest in the
+Golden Bed, she would pledge all that Great Fern possessed, if I
+would give her only a few matches.</p>
+
+<p>Her pleas could only be hopeless. There was not a match in the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Together we returned to the cocoanut-grove. O Lalala still sat
+calmly winning the matches, the supply of which was from time to
+time replenished by panting newcomers. He swept the mat clean at
+every valuable pot.</p>
+
+<p>His only apparent advantage was that he made the rules whenever
+questions arose. He was patient in all disputes, yielding in small
+matters, but he was as the granite rocks of the mountain above him
+when many matches were at stake. With solemnity he invoked the name
+of Hoy-lee, the mysterious person who had fixed immutably the
+<i>tapus</i> of pokaree. He made an occult sign with his thumb against
+his nose, and that settled it. If any one persisted in challenging
+this <i>tiki</i> he added his other thumb to the little finger of his
+first symbol, and said, &ldquo;Got-am-to-hellee!&rdquo; As a last recourse, he
+would raise his crutch and with public opinion supporting him would
+threaten to invoke the law against gambling and stop the game if
+disputation did not cease.</p>
+
+<p>Steadily the pile of Swedish <i>toendstikkers</i> grew behind him. All
+through the night the game raged beneath the light of the candlenuts,
+in a silence broken only by the hoarse breathing of the crouching
+brown men, the sandy-sounding rustle of the palm-fronds overhead, and
+cries of &ldquo;Ante uppy!&rdquo; or &ldquo;Comely center!&rdquo; When dawn came grayly
+through the aisles of the grove, they halted briefly to eat a bowl
+of <i>popoi</i> and to drink the milk of freshly gathered nuts. O Lalala,
+relaxing against the heap of his winnings, lifted a shell to his lips
+and over its rim gave me one enigmatic look.</p>
+
+<p>Whistling softly, I went down to the House of the Golden Bed,
+breakfasted there without the aid of Exploding Eggs, and then sought
+the governor. He had gone by the whale-boat of Special Agent Bauda
+to an adjoining deserted island to shoot <i>kuku</i>. Hiva-oa was without
+a government.</p>
+
+<p>All day the madness raged in the cocoanut-grove. In the afternoon
+the vicar apostolic of the Roman Catholic Church, supported by the
+faithful Deacon Fariuu, himself toiled up the slope to stop the game.
+The bishop was received in sullen silence by regular communicants. A
+catechist whom he had found squat before the mat paid no attention
+to his objurgations, save to ask the bishop not to stand behind him,
+as O Lalala had said that was bad luck. The churchmen retired in a
+haughty silence that was unheeded by the absorbed players.</p>
+
+<p>Later the deacon returned, bringing with him the very matches that
+had been kept in the church to light the lamps at night service.
+These he stacked on the sugarcane mat. The vicar bishop followed him
+to call down the anathema maranatha of high heaven upon this renegade
+who had robbed the cathedral and the priests' house of every
+<i>toendstikker</i> they had held, and when he had again retired, the
+deacon, dropping his last box on the woven table, elevated his hands
+toward the skies and fervently asked the Giver of All Good Things to
+aid his draw. But he received a third ace, only to see O Lalala put
+down four of the damnable bits of paper with three spots on each one.</p>
+
+<p>At three o'clock next morning the game lapsed because the Tahitian
+had all the counters. These he sent to his house, where they were
+guarded by a friend. For a day he sat waiting by the sugar-cane mat,
+and the Monte Carlo was not deserted. O Lalala would not budge to
+the demands of a hundred losers that he sell back packages of
+matches for cocoanuts or French francs or any other currency. Pigs,
+fish, canned goods, and all the contents of the stores he spurned as
+breaking faith with the kindly governor, who would recognize that
+while matches were not gambling stakes, all other commodities were.</p>
+
+<p>On the fourth day the canoes that had paddled and sailed to every
+other island of the archipelago began to return. Some brought fifty
+packets, some less. Dealers had tossed their prices sky-ward when
+asked to sell their entire stocks.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr37"></a>
+<a href="images/img37.jpg"><img src="images/thumb37.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A chieftess in <i>tapa</i> garments with <i>tapa</i> parasol</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr38"></a>
+<a href="images/img38.jpg"><img src="images/thumb38.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Launching the whale-boat</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Now the game began again with the fierceness of the typhoon after
+the center has passed. Men and women stood in line for the chance to
+redeem their fortunes, to slake their rage, to gain applause. Once
+they thought they had conquered the Tahitian. He began to lose, and
+before his streak of trouble ended, he had sent more than thirty
+packages from his hut to the grove. But this was the merest breath
+of misfortune; his star rose again, and the contents of the canoes
+were his.</p>
+
+<p>On the fifth day it became known that the Shan-Shan syndicate of
+Cantonese had a remaining case of <i>toendstikkers</i>. They claimed
+that until now they had overlooked this case. It held a hundred
+packages, or twelve hundred boxes. It was priceless as the sole
+possible barrier against the absolute ending of the game.</p>
+
+<p>The Shan-Shan people were without heart. They demanded for the case
+five francs a packet. Many of the younger Marquesans counselled
+giving the Cantonese a taste of the ancient <i>u'u</i>, the war-club of a
+previous generation. Desperate as was the plight of the older
+gamesters, they dared not consent. The governor would return, the
+law would take its course, and they would go to Noumea to work out
+their lives for crime. No, they would buy the case for francs, but
+they would not risk dividing it among many, who would be devoured
+piecemeal by the diabolical O Lalala.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kivi, the Vagabond, the Drinker of <i>kava</i>, is the chief to lead our
+cause,&rdquo; said Great Fern. &ldquo;He has never gone to the Christian church.
+He believes still in the old gods of the High Place, and he is
+tattooed with the shark.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kivi was the one man who had not played. He cared nothing for the
+pleasures of the <i>Farani</i>, the foolish whites. After palaver, his
+neighbors waited on him in a body. They reasoned with him, they
+begged him. He consented to their plan only after they had wept at
+their humbling. Then they began to instruct him.</p>
+
+<p>They told him of the different kinds of combinations, of straights
+and of flushes, and of a certain occasional period when the Tahitian
+would introduce a mad novelty by which the cards with one fruit on
+them would &ldquo;runnee wil'ee.&rdquo; They warned him against times when
+without reason the demon would put many matches on the mat, and
+after frightening out every one would in the end show that he had no
+cards of merit.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after sunset, when the <i>popoi</i> and fish had been eaten,
+and all had bathed in the brook, when the women had perfumed their
+bodies and put the scarlet hibiscus in their hair, and after Kivi
+had drunk thrice of <i>kava</i>, the game began. The valley was deserted,
+the <i>paepaes</i> empty. No fires twinkled from the mountainsides. Only
+in the cocoanut-grove the candlenuts were lit as the stars peeped
+through the roof of the world.</p>
+
+<p>A throng surrounded the pair of combatants. The worn cards had been
+oiled and dried, and though the ominous faces of the <i>tiki</i> upon
+them shone bravely, doubtless they were weary of strife. The pipe was
+made to smoke; Kivi puffed it and so did all who had joined in the
+purchase of the case from the thieves of Cantonese. Then the cards
+were dealt by Kivi, who had won the cut.</p>
+
+<p>O Lalala and he eyed each other like Japanese wrestlers before the
+grapple. Their eyes were slits as they put up the ante of five
+packets each. O Lalala opened the pot for five packets and Kivi,
+nudged by his backers, feverishly balanced them. He took three cards,
+O Lalala but one. Standing behind the Tahitian, I saw that he had no
+cards of value, but coolly he threw thirty packets upon the mat. The
+others shuddered, for Kivi had drawn deuces to a pair of kings. They
+made the pipe glow again. They puffed it; they spat; they put their
+heads together, and he threw down his cards.</p>
+
+<p>Then calmly the Tahitian laid down his own, and they saw that they
+could have beaten him. They shouted in dismay, and withdrew Kivi,
+who after some palaver went away with them into the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>One or two candlenut torches dimly illumined the figures of the
+squatting women who remained. Upon the sugar-cane mat O Lalala
+stretched himself at ease, closing his eyes. A silence broken only
+by the stealthy noises of the forest closed upon us. Teata, her dark
+eyes wide, looked fearfully over her shoulder and crept close to me.
+In a low voice she said that the absent players had thrown earth
+over their shoulders, stamped, and called upon Po, the Marquesan
+deity of darkness, yet it had not availed them. Now they went to make
+magic to those at whose very mention she shuddered, not naming them.</p>
+
+<p>We waited, while the torches sputtered lower, and a dank breath of
+the forest crept between the trees. O Lalala appeared to sleep,
+though when Apporo attempted to withdraw a card he pinned it with
+his crutch.</p>
+
+<p>It was half an hour before the players returned. Kivi crouched to
+his place without a word, and the others arranged themselves behind
+him in fixed array, as though they had a cabalistic number-formation
+in mind.</p>
+
+<p>Fresh torches were made, and many disputed the privilege of holding
+them, as they controlled one's view of the mat. O Lalala sat
+imperturbable, waiting. At last all was ready. The light fell upon
+the giant limbs and huge torsos of the men, picking out arabesques of
+tattooing and catching ruddy gleams from red <i>pareus</i>. The women, in
+crimson gowns caught up to the waist, their luxuriant hair adorned
+with flowers and phosphorescent fungus, their necks hung with the
+pink peppers of Chile, squatted in a close ring about the players.</p>
+
+<p>The lame man took up the pack, shuffled it, and handed it to Kivi to
+cut. Then Kivi solemnly stacked before him the eighty-five packets
+of matches, all that remained in the islands. Five packs went upon
+the mat for ante, and Kivi very slowly picked up his cards.</p>
+
+<p>He surveyed them, and a grim smile of incredulity and delight spread
+over his ink-decorated countenance. He opened for ten packets. O
+Lalala quickly put down as many, and thirty more.</p>
+
+<p>Kivi chuckled as one who has his enemy in his hand, but stifles his
+feelings to hide his triumph. He then carefully counted his
+remaining wealth, and with a gesture of invitation slid the entire
+seventy packets about his knees. They were a great bulk, quite 840
+boxes of matches, and they almost obscured the curving palms of blue
+tattooed on his mighty thighs.</p>
+
+<p>Again he chuckled and this time put his knuckles over his mouth.
+&ldquo;Patty!&rdquo; said Great Fern for him, and made a gesture disdaining more
+cards.</p>
+
+<p>O Lalala scrutinized his face as the sailor the heavens in a storm,
+and then studied the visages of all his backers. He closed his eyes
+a moment. Then, &ldquo;My cally!&rdquo; he said, as he pushed a great heap of
+<i>toendstikkers</i> onto the cane mat. The <i>kava</i>-drinkers grew black
+with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Kivi hesitated, and then, amid the most frightful curses of his
+company, laid down only a pair of kings, a six, a nine, and a jack.
+O Lalala, without a smile, disclosed a pair of aces and three
+meaningless companions.</p>
+
+<p>The game was over. The men of Hiva-oa had thrown their last spear.
+Magic had been unavailing; the demon foreigner could read through
+the cards. Kivi fell back helpless, grief and <i>kava</i> prostrating him.
+The torches died down as the winner picked up his spoils and
+prepared to retire.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a man dashed madly through the grove, displaying two
+boxes and a handful of separate matches. O Lalala at first refused
+to play for this trifling stake, but in a storm of menacing cries
+consented to cut the pack for double or nothing, and in a twinkling
+extinguished the last hope.</p>
+
+<p>The last comer had looted the governor's palace. The ultimate match
+in the Marquesas had been lost to the Tahitian. He now had the
+absolute monopoly of light and of cooking.</p>
+
+<p>Soberly the rest of the valley dwellers went home to unlighted huts.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, after a cold breakfast, I was early afoot in the valley.
+On the way to the trader's store I beheld the complacent winner in
+his cabin. Through the open door I saw that every inch of the walls
+was covered with stacked boxes of matches, yellow fronts exposed. On
+his mat in the middle of this golden treasury O Lalala reclined,
+smoking at his leisure, and smiling the happy smile of Midas.
+Outside a cold wind swept down from Calvary Peak, and a gray sky hid
+the sun.</p>
+
+<p>I paused in the reek of those innumerable matches, which tainted the
+air a hundred feet away, and exchanged morning greetings with their
+owner, inquiring about his plans. He said that he would make a three
+days' vigil of thanks, and upon the fourth day he would sell matches
+at a franc a small box. I bade him farewell, and passed on.</p>
+
+<p>The valley people were coming and going about their affairs, but
+sadly and even morosely. There was no match to light the fire for
+roasting breadfruit, or to kindle the solacing tobacco. O Lalala
+would not give one away, or sell one at any price. Neither would he
+let a light be taken from his own fire or pipe.</p>
+
+<p>The next schooner was not expected for two months, as the last was
+but a fortnight gone. Le Brunnec had not a match, nor Kriech. The
+governor had not returned. The only alternatives were to go
+lightless and smokeless or to assault the heartless oppressor. Many
+dark threats were muttered on the cheerless <i>paepaes</i> and in the
+dark huts, but in variety of councils there was no unity, and none
+dared assault alone the yellow-walled hut in which O Lalala smiled
+among his gains.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day there was a growing tension in the atmosphere of
+the valley. I observed that there were no young men to be seen on
+the beach or at the traders' stores. There were rumors, hints hardly
+spoken, of a meeting in the hills. The traders looked to their guns,
+whistling thoughtfully. There was not a spark of fire set in all
+Atuona, save by O Lalala, and that for himself alone.</p>
+
+<p>So matters stood until the second night. Then old Kahuiti, that
+handsomest of cannibals, who lived in the valley of Taaoa, strolled
+into Atuona and made it known that he would hold a meeting in the
+High Place where of old many of his tribe had been eaten by Atuona
+men.</p>
+
+<p>Exploding Eggs, Malicious Gossip, and I climbed the mountain early.
+The population of the valley, eager for counsel, was gathered on the
+old stone benches where half a century earlier their sorcerers had
+sat. In the twilight Kahuiti stood before us, his long white beard
+tied in a Psyche knot on his broad, tattooed chest. His voice was
+stern.</p>
+
+<p>We were fools, he said, to be denied food and smoke by the foreigner.
+What of matches before the French came? Had he known matches in his
+youth? <i>Aue!</i> The peoples of the islands must return to the ways of
+their fathers!</p>
+
+<p>He leaped from the top of the Pekia, and seizing his long knife, he
+cut a five-foot piece of <i>parua</i>-wood and shaped it to four inches
+in width. With our fascinated gaze upon him, he whittled sharp a
+foot-long piece of the same wood, and straddled the longer stick.
+Holding it firmly between his two bare knees he rubbed the shorter,
+pointed piece swiftly up and down a space of six inches upon his
+mount. Gradually a groove formed, in which the dust collected at one
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the wood was smoking hot, and then the old man's hands moved so
+rapidly that for several moments I could not follow them with the eye.
+The smoke became thicker, and suddenly a gleam of flame arose,
+caught the dust, and was fed with twigs and cocoanut-husks by scores
+of trembling brown hands. In a few minutes a roaring fire was
+blazing on the sward.</p>
+
+<p>Pipes sprang from loin-cloths or from behind ears, and the
+incense of tobacco lifted on the still air of the evening.
+Brands were improvised and hurried home to light the fires
+for breadfruit-roasting, while Kahuiti laughed scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A hundred of this tribe I have eaten, and no wonder!&rdquo; he said as he
+strode away toward Taaoa.</p>
+
+<p>The monopoly of O Lalala was no more. Atuona Valley had turned back
+the clock of time a hundred years, to destroy the perfect world in
+which he sat alone. He heard the news with amazement and
+consternation. For a day he sat disconsolate, unable to credit the
+disaster that had befallen his carefully made plans. Then he offered
+the matches at usual traders' prices, and the people mocked him. All
+over the island the fire-ploughs, oldest of fire-making tools in the
+world, were being driven to heat the stones for the <i>mei</i>. Atuona
+had no need of matches.</p>
+
+<p>The governor on his return heard the roars of derision, gathered the
+story from a score of mirthful tongues, seized and sold the matches,
+and appropriated the funds for a barrel of Bordeaux. And for many
+weeks the unhappy O Lalala sat mournfully on the beach, gazing at
+the empty sea and longing for a schooner to carry him away.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;.</i></p>
+
+<p>The <i>Jeanne d'Arc</i>, a beautiful, long, curving craft manned by
+twelve oarsmen, came like a white bird over the blue waters of the
+Bay of Traitors one Saturday afternoon, bringing Père Victorien to
+Atuona. He was from Hatiheu, on the island of Nuka-hiva, seventy
+miles to the north. A day and a night he had spent on the open sea,
+making a slow voyage by wind and oar, but like all these priests he
+made nothing of the hardships. They come to the islands to stay
+until they die, and death means a crown the brighter for martyrdom.</p>
+
+<p>He looked a tortured man in his heavy and smothering vestments when
+I met him before the mission walls next morning. His face and hands
+were covered with pustules as if from smallpox.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>nonos</i> (sand-flies) are so furious the last month,&rdquo; he said
+with a patient smile. &ldquo;I have not slept but an hour at a time. I was
+afraid I would go mad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>News of his coming brought all the valley Catholics to eight o'clock
+mass. The banana-shaded road and the roots of the old banian were
+crowded with worshippers in all their finery, and when they poured
+into the mission the few rude benches were well filled. I found a
+chair in the rear, next to that of Baufré, the shaggy drunkard, and
+as the chanting began, I observed an empty <i>prie-dieu</i>, specially
+prepared and placed for some person of importance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; said Baufré, noticing the direction of my glance.
+&ldquo;She is the richest woman in all the Marquesas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At the Gospel she came in, walking slowly down the aisle and taking
+her place as though unaware of the hundred covert glances that
+followed her. Wealth is comparative, and Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;, with
+perhaps a few hundred thousand dollars in cash and cocoanut-grove,
+stood to the island people as Rockefeller to us. Money and lands
+were not all her possessions, for though she had never traveled from
+her birthplace, she was very different in carriage and costume from
+the girls about her.</p>
+
+<p>She wore a black lace gown, clinging, and becoming her slender
+figure and delicately charming face. Her features were exquisite,
+her eyes lustrous black pools of passion, her mouth a scarlet line
+of pride and disdain. A large leghorn hat of fine black straw, with
+chiffon, was on her graceful head, and her tiny feet were in silk
+stockings and patent leather. She held a gold and ivory prayer-book
+in gloved hands, and a jeweled watch hung upon her breast.</p>
+
+<p>She might have passed for a Creole or for one of those beautiful
+Filipino <i>mestizas</i>, daughters of Spanish fathers and Filipino
+mothers. I suppose coquetry in woman was born with the fig-leaf.
+This dainty, fetching heiress, born of a French father and a savage
+mother, had all the airs and graces of a ballroom belle. Where had
+she gained these fashions and desires of the women of cities, of
+Europe?</p>
+
+<p>I had but to look over the church to feel her loneliness. Teata,
+Many Daughters, Weaver of Mats, and Flower, savagely handsome,
+gaudily dressed, were the only companions of her own age. Flower, of
+the red-gold hair, was striking in a scarlet gown of sateen, a
+wreath of pink peppers, and a necklace of brass. She had been
+ornamented by the oarsmen of the <i>Jeanne d'Arc</i>, fortunately without
+Père Victorien's knowledge. Teata, in her tight gown with its
+insertions of fishnet revealing her smooth, tawny skin, a red scarf
+about her waist, straw hat trimmed with a bright blue Chinese shawl
+perched on her high-piled hair, was still a picture of primitive and
+savage grace. They were handsome, these girls, but they were wild
+flowers. Mlle. N&mdash;&mdash; had the poise and delicacy of the hothouse
+blossom.</p>
+
+<p>Her father had spent thirty years on Hiva-oa, laboring to wring a
+fortune from the toil of the natives, and dying, he had left it all
+to this daughter, who, with her laces and jewels, her elegant, slim
+form and haughty manner, was in this wild abode of barefooted,
+half-naked people like a pearl in a gutter. She was free now to do
+what she liked with herself and her fortune. What would she do?</p>
+
+<p>It was the question on every tongue and in every eye when, after mass,
+she passed down the lane respectfully widened for her in the throng
+on the steps and with a black-garbed sister at her side, walked to
+the nuns' house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If only she had a religious vocation,&rdquo; sighed Sister Serapoline.
+&ldquo;That would solve all difficulties, and save her soul and happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Vainly the nuns and priests had tried during the dozen years of her
+tutelage in their hands to direct her aspirations toward this goal,
+but one had only to look into her burning eyes or see the supple
+movement of her body, to know that she sought her joy on earth.</p>
+
+<p>Liha-Liha, the natives called her father, which means corporal, and
+that they had hated and yet feared him when Hiva-oa was still given
+over to cannibalism outlined his character. He had lived and died in
+his house near the Stinking Springs on the road to Taaoa. The sole
+white man in that valley, he had lorded it over the natives more
+sternly than had their old chiefs. He had fought down the wilderness,
+planted great cocoanut-plantations, forced the unwilling islanders
+to work for him, and dollar by dollar, with an iron will, he had
+wrung from their labor the fortune now left in the dainty hands of
+his half-savage daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Song of the Nightingale, the convict cook of the governor, gave me
+light on the man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I loved his woman, Piiheana (Climber of Trees Who Was Killed and
+Eaten), who was the mother of Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;,&rdquo; said Song of the
+Nightingale. &ldquo;One night he found me with her on his <i>paepae</i>. He shot
+me; then he had me condemned as a robber, and I spent five years in
+the prison at Tai-o-hae.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Climber of Trees Who Was Killed and Eaten?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He beat her till her bones were broken, and sent her from him. Then
+he took Daughter of a Piece of Tattooing, to whom he left in his
+will thirty-five thousand francs. It was she who brought up
+Mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle herself walked daintily down to the road, where her
+horse was tied, and I was presented to her. She gave me her hand
+with the air of a princess, her scarlet lips quivering into a faint
+smile and her smouldering, unsatisfied eyes sweeping my face. With a,
+conciliating, yet imperious, air, she suggested that I ride over the
+hills with her.</p>
+
+<p>Picking up her lace skirt and frilled petticoat, she vaulted into
+the man's saddle without more ado, and took the heavy reins in her
+small gloved hands. Her horse was scrubby, but she rode well, as do
+all Marquesans, her supple body following his least movement and her
+slim, silk-stockinged legs clinging as though she were riding
+bareback. When the swollen river threatened to wet her varnished
+slippers, she perched herself on the saddle, feet and all, and made
+a dry ford.</p>
+
+<p>Over the hills she led the way at a gallop, despite wretched trail
+and tripping bushes. Down we went through the jungle, walled in by a
+hundred kinds of trees and ferns and vines. Now and then we came
+into a cleared space, a native plantation, a hut surrounded by
+breadfruit-, mango- and cocoanut-, orange- and lime-trees. No one
+called &ldquo;<i>Kaoho!</i>&rdquo; and Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash; did not slacken her pace.
+We swept into the jungle again without a word, my horse following her
+mount's flying feet, and I ducking and dodging branches and
+noose-like vines.</p>
+
+<p>In a marshy place, where patches of <i>taro</i> spread its magnificent
+leaves over the earth, we slowed to a walk. The jungle tangle was
+all about us; a thousand bright flowers, scarlet, yellow, purple,
+crimson, splashed with color the masses of green; tall ferns
+uncurled their fronds; giant creepers coiled like snakes through the
+boughs, and the sluggish air was heavy with innumerable delicious
+scents. I said to Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash; that the beauty of the islands
+was like that of a fantastic dream, an Arabian Night's tale.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; she said, with a note of weariness and irony. The feet of the
+horses made a sucking sound on the oozy ground. &ldquo;I am half white,&rdquo;
+she said after a moment, and as the horses' hoofs struck the rocky
+trail again, she whipped up her mount and we galloped up the slope.</p>
+
+<p>After a time the trail widened into a road and I saw before us a
+queer enclosure. At first sight I thought it a wild-animal park.
+There were small houses like cages and a big, box-like structure in
+the center, all enclosed in a wire fence, a couple of acres in all.
+Drawing nearer, I saw that the houses were cabins painted in gaudy
+colors, and that the white box was a marble tomb of great size. Each
+slab of marble was rimmed with scarlet cement, and the top of the
+tomb, under a corrugated iron roof, was covered with those abominable
+bead-wreaths from Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Like the humbler Marquesans who have their coffins made and graves
+dug before their passing, Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;'s father had seen to it
+that this last resting-place was prepared while he lived, and he had
+placed it here in the center of his plantation, before the house that
+had been his home for thirty years. With something of his own crude
+strength and barbaric taste, it stood there, the grim reminder of
+her white father to the girl in whose veins his own blood mingled
+with that of the savage.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at it without emotion, and after I had surveyed it, we
+dismounted and she led me into her house. It was a neat and
+showily-furnished cottage, whose Nottingham-lace curtains, varnished
+golden-oak chairs and ingrain carpet spoke of attempts at mail-order
+beautification. Sitting on a horse-hair sofa, hard and slippery, I
+drank wine and ate mangoes, while opposite me Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;'s
+mother sat in stiff misery on a chair. She was a withered Marquesan
+woman, barefooted and ugly, dressed in a red cotton garment of the
+hideous night-gown pattern introduced by the missionaries, and her
+eyes were tragedies of bewilderment and suffering, while her
+toothless mouth essayed a smile and she struggled with a few words
+of bad French.</p>
+
+<p>Though Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash; was most hospitable, she was not at ease,
+and I knew it was because of the appearance of her mother, this
+woman whom her father had discarded years before, but to whom the
+daughter had shown kindness since his death. The mother appeared
+more at ease with her successor, a somewhat younger Marquesan woman,
+who waited on us as a servant, and seemed contented enough.
+Doubtless the two who had endured the moods of Liha-Liha had many
+confidences now that he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>I had to describe America to Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash;, and the inventions
+and social customs of which she had read. She would not want to live
+in such a big country, she said, but Tahiti seemed to combine
+comfort with the atmosphere of her birthplace. Perhaps she might go
+to Tahiti to live.</p>
+
+<p>As I took my hat to leave, she said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been told that they are separating the lepers in Tahiti and
+confining them outside Papeite in a kind of prison. Is that so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a prison,&rdquo; I replied. &ldquo;The government has built cottages for
+them in a little valley. Don't you think it wise to segregate them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She did not reply, and I rode away.</p>
+
+<p>A week later I met her one evening at Otupoto, that dividing place
+between the valleys of Taaoa and Atuona, where Kahuiti and his
+fellow warriors had trapped the human meat. I had walked there to
+sit on the edge of the precipice and watch the sun set in the sea.
+She came on horseback from her home toward the village, to spend
+Sunday with the nuns. She got off her horse when she saw me, and lit
+a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you do here all alone?&rdquo; she asked in French. She never used
+a word of Marquesan to me. I replied that I was trying to imagine
+myself there fifty years earlier, when the meddlesome white sang
+very low in the concert of the island powers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The people were happier then, I suppose,&rdquo; she said meditatively, as
+she handed me her burning cigarette in the courteous way of her
+mother's people. &ldquo;But it does not attract me. I would like to see
+the world I read of.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She sat beside me on the rock, her delicately-modeled chin on her
+pink palm, and gazed at the colors fading from vivid gold and rose
+to yellow and mauve on the sky and the sea. The quietness of the
+scene, the gathering twilight, perhaps, too, something in the fact
+that I was a white man and a stranger, broke down her reserve.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But with whom can I see that world?&rdquo; she said with sudden passion.
+&ldquo;Money&mdash;I have it. I don't want it. I want to be loved. I want a man.
+What shall I do? I cannot marry a native, for they do not think as I
+do. I&mdash;I dread to marry a Frenchman. You know <i>le droit du mari</i>? A
+French wife has no freedom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I cited Madame Bapp, who chastised her spouse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is no man, that <i>criquet!</i>&rdquo; she said scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would be better off not to marry, if I had a real man who loved me,
+and who would take me across the sea! What am I saying? The nuns
+would be shocked. I do not know&mdash;oh, I do not know what it is that
+tears at me! But I want to see the world, and I want a man to love me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your islands here are more beautiful than any of the developed
+countries,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;There are many thieves there, too, to take your
+money.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have read that,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;and I am not afraid. I am afraid
+of nothing. I want to know a different life than here. I will at
+least go to Tahiti. I am tired of the convent. The nuns talk always
+of religion, and I am young, and I am half French. We die young,
+most of us, and I have had no pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I saw her black eyes, as she puffed her cigarette, shining with her
+vision. Some man would put tears in them soon, I thought, if she
+chose that path.</p>
+
+<p>Would she be happy in Tahiti? If she could find one of her own kind,
+a half-caste, a paragon of kindness and fidelity, she might be. With
+the white she would know only torture. There is but one American that
+I know who has made a native girl happy. Lovina, who keeps the Tiare
+Hotel in Papeite and who knows the gossip of all the South Seas,
+told me the story one day after he had come to the hotel to fetch
+two dinners to his home. He had a handsome motor-car, and the man
+himself was so clean-looking, so precise in every word and motion,
+that I spoke of the contrast to the skippers, officials, and
+tourists who lounged about Lovina's bar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is a strange one, that man,&rdquo; said Lovina. &ldquo;Two years ago I have
+nice girl here, wait on bar, look sweet, and I make her jus' so my
+daughter. I go America for visit, and when I come back that girl
+ruin'. That American take her 'way, and he come tell me straight he
+couldn't help it. He jus' love her&mdash;mad. He build her fine house,
+get automobile. She never work. Every day he come here get meals
+take home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That tall, straight chap, his hair prematurely gray, his face sad,
+had made the barmaid the jewel of a golden setting. He devoted
+himself and his income solely to her. Stranger still, he had made
+her his legal wife.</p>
+
+<p>But she is an exception rare as rain in Aden. These native girls of
+mixed blood, living tragedies sprung from the uncaring selfishness
+of the whites, struggle desperately to lift themselves above the
+mire in which the native is sinking. They throw themselves away on
+worthless adventurers, who waste their little patrimony, break their
+hearts, and either desert them after the first flush of passion
+passes, or themselves sink into a life of lazy slovenliness worse
+than that of the native.</p>
+
+<p>All these things I pondered when Mlle. N&mdash;&mdash; spoke of her hope of
+finding happiness in Tahiti. I was sure that, with her wealth, she
+would have many suitors,&mdash;but what of a tender heart?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is love I want,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Love and freedom. We women are used
+to having our own way. I know the nuns would be horrified, but I
+shall bind myself to no man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The last colors of the sunset faded slowly on the sea, and the world
+was a soft gray filled with the radiance of the rising moon. I rose
+and when Mile. N&mdash;&mdash; had mounted I strolled ahead of her horse in
+the moonlight. I was wearing a tuberose over my ear, and she remarked
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know what that signifies? If a man seeks a woman, he wears a
+white flower over his ear, and if his love grows ardent, he wears a
+red rose or hibiscus. But if he tires, he puts some green thing in
+their place. <i>Bon dieu!</i> That is the depth of ignominy for the woman
+scorned. I remember one girl who was made light of that way in church.
+She stayed a day hidden in the hills weeping, and then she threw
+herself from a cliff.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was in her manner a melancholy and a longing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tahitians wear flowers all the day,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;They are gay, and
+life is pleasant upon their island. There are automobiles by the
+score, cinemas, singing, and dancing every evening, and many
+Europeans and Americans. With money you could have everything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not singing and dancing I desire!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;<i>Pas de
+tout!</i> I must know more people, and not people like priests and
+these copra dealers. I have read in novels of men who are like gods,
+who are bold and strong, but who make their women happy. Do you know
+an officer of the <i>Zelee</i>, with hair like a ripe banana? He is tall
+and plays the banjo. I saw him one time long ago when the warship
+was here. He was on the governor's veranda. Oh, that was long ago,
+but such a young man would be the man that I want.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her Marquesan blood was speaking in that cry of the heart,
+unrestrained and passionate. They are not the cold, chaste women of
+other climes, these women of the Marquesas; with blood at fever heat
+and hearts beating like wild things against bars, they listen when
+love or its counterfeit pours into their ears those soft words with
+nothing in them that make a song. They have no barriers of reserve
+or haughtiness; they make no bargains; they go where the heart goes,
+careless of certified vows.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon dieu!</i>&rdquo; Mademoiselle N&mdash;&mdash; exclaimed and put her tiny hand to
+her red lips. &ldquo;What if the good sisters heard me? I am bad. I know.
+<i>Eh bien!</i> I am Marquesan after all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We were about to cross the stream by my cabin, and I mounted the
+horse behind her to save a wetting. She turned impulsively and
+looked at me, her lovely face close to mine, her dark eyes burning,
+and her hot breath on my cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Write to me when you are in Tahiti, and tell me if you think I
+would be happy there?&rdquo; she said imploringly. &ldquo;I have no friends here,
+except the nuns. I need so much to go away. I am dying here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coming up my trail a few days later, I found on my <i>paepae</i> a
+shabbily dressed little bag-of-bones of a white man, with a dirty
+gray beard and a harsh voice like that of Baufré. He had a note to
+me from Le Brunnec, introducing M. Lemoal, born in Brest, a
+naturalized American. The note was sealed, and I put it carefully
+away before turning to my visitor. It read:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;CHER CITOYEN:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I send you a specimen of the Marquesan beaches, so that you can
+have a little fun. This fellow have a very tremendous life. He is an
+old sailor, pirate, gold-miner, Chinese-hanger, thief, robber,
+honest-man, baker, trader; in a word, an interesting type. With the
+aid of several glasses of wine I have put him in the mood to talk
+delightfully.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>A low-browed man was Lemoal, sapped and ruthless, but certainly he
+had adventured.</p>
+
+<p>Was the Bella Union Theater still there in Frisco? Did they still
+fight in Bottle Meyers, and was his friend Tasset on the police
+force yet? His memories of San Francisco ante-dated mine. He had
+been a hoodlum there, and had helped to hang Chinese. He had gone to
+Tahiti in 1870 and made a hundred thousand francs keeping a bakery.
+That fortune had lasted him during two years' tour of the world.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I'm bust,&rdquo; he said bitterly. &ldquo;Now I got no woman, no children,
+no friends, and I don't want none. I am by myself and damn everybody!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I soothed his misanthropy with two fingers of rum, and he mellowed
+into advice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw you with that daughter of Liha-Liha,&rdquo; he said, using the
+native name of the dead millionaire. &ldquo;You be careful. One time I
+baked bread in Taaoa. My oven was near his plantation. I saw that
+girl come into the woods and take off her dress. She had a mirror to
+see her back, and I looked, and the sun shone bright. What she saw,
+I saw&mdash;a patch of white. She is a leper, that rich girl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His eyes were full of hate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't like her,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why? Why?&rdquo; he screamed. &ldquo;Because her father was an accursed villian.
+He was always kissing the dirty hands of the priests. He used to
+give his workmen opium to make them work faster, and then he would
+go to church. He made his money, yes. He was damn hypocrite. And now
+his daughter, with all that rotten money, is a leper. I tell
+everybody what I saw. Everybody here knows it but you. Everybody
+will know it in Tahiti if she goes there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man was like a snake to me. I threw away the glass he had drunk
+from. And yet&mdash;was it idle curiosity, or was it fear of being shut
+away in the valley outside Papeite by the quarantine officers, that
+made her ask me that question about the segregation of lepers?</p>
+
+<p>Liha-Liha had spent thirty years making money. He had coined the
+sweat and blood and lives of a thousand Marquesans into a golden
+fortune, and he had left behind him that fortune, a marble tomb, and
+Mlle. N&mdash;&mdash;.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A journey to Nuka-hiva; story of the celebration of the fête of Joan
+of Arc, and the miracles of the white horse and the girl.</i></p>
+
+<p>Père Victorien said that I must not leave the Marquesas before I
+visited the island of Nuka-hiva seventy miles to the northward and
+saw there in Tai-o-hae, the capital of the northern group of islands,
+a real saint.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A wonderful servant of Christ,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;Père Simeon Delmas. He is
+very old, and has been there since the days of strife. He has not
+been away from the islands for fifty years, but God preserves him for
+His honor and service. Père Simeon would be one of the first in our
+order were he in Europe, but he is a martyr and wishes to earn his
+crown in these islands and die among his charges. He is a saint, as
+truly as the blessed ones of old.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was he who planned the magnificent celebration of the feast of
+Joan of Arc some years ago, and as to miracles, I truly believe that
+the keeping safe of the white horse during the terrible storm and
+perhaps even the preservation of a maiden worthy to appear in the
+armor of the Maid, are miracles as veritable as the apparition at
+Lourdes. <i>Pour moi</i>, I am convinced that Joan is one of the most
+glorious saints in heaven, and that Père Simeon himself is of the
+band of blessed martyrs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Père Victorien, I would like nothing better than to meet that
+good man,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;but I am at a loss to get to Tai-o-hae. The
+<i>Roberta</i>, Capriata's steamer, will not be here for many weeks,
+and there is no other in the archipelago just now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall return with me in the <i>Jeanne d'Arc</i>,&rdquo; he replied quickly.
+&ldquo;It may be an arduous voyage for you, but you will be well repaid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight later his steersman came running to my cabin to tell me
+to be ready at one o'clock in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>The night was a myriad of stars on a vast ebon canopy. One could see
+only shadows in denser shadows, and the serene sure movements of the
+men as they lifted the whale-boat from Bauda's shed and carried it
+lightly to the water were mysterious to me. Their eyes saw where
+mine were blind. Père Victorien and I were seated in the boat, and
+they shoved off, breast-deep in the turmoil of the breakers, running
+alongside the bobbing craft until it was in the welter of foam and,
+then with a chorus, in unison, lifting themselves over the sides and
+seizing the oars before the boat could turn broadside to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He-ee Nuka-hiva!&rdquo; they sang in a soft monotone, while they pulled
+hard for the mouth of the bay. The priest and I were fairly
+comfortable in the stern, the steersman perched behind us on the
+very edge of the combing, balancing himself to the rise and fall of
+the boat as an acrobat on a rope. I laid my head on my bag and fell
+asleep before the sea had been reached. The last sound in my ears
+was the voice of Père Victorien reciting his rosary.</p>
+
+<p>I awoke to find a breeze careening our sail and the <i>Jeanne d'Arc</i>
+rushing through a pale blue world&mdash;pale blue water, pale blue sky,
+and, it seemed, pale blue air. No single solid thing but the boat
+was to be seen in the indefinite immensity. Sprawling on its bottom
+in every attitude of limp relaxation, the oarsmen lay asleep; only Père
+Victorien was awake, his hands on the tiller and his eyes gazing
+toward the east.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Bonjour!</i>&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You have slept well. Your angel guardian
+thinks well of you. The dawn comes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I asked him if I might relieve him of tiller and sheet, and he, with
+an injunction to keep the sail full and far, unpocketed his breviary,
+and was instantly absorbed in its contents.</p>
+
+<p>Our tack was toward the eastern distance, and no glimpse of land or
+cloud made us aught but solitary travelers in illimitable space. The
+sun was beneath the deep, but in the hush of the pale light one felt
+the awe of its coming. Slowly a faint glow began to gild a line that
+circled the farthest east. Gold it was at first, like a segment of a
+marriage ring, then a bolt of copper shot from the level waters to
+the zenith and a thousand vivid colors were emptied upon the sky and
+the sea. Roses were strewn on the glowing waste, rose and gold and
+purple curtained the horizon, and suddenly, without warning, abrupt
+as lightning, the sun beamed hot above the edge of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesans stirred, their bodies stretched and their lungs
+expanded in the throes of returning consciousness. Then one sat up
+and called loudly, &ldquo;<i>A titahi a atu!</i> Another day!&rdquo; The others rose,
+and immediately began to uncover the <i>popoi</i> bowl. They had canned
+fish and bread, too, and ate steadily, without a word, for ten
+minutes. The steersman, who had joined them, returned to the helm,
+and the priest and I enjoyed the bananas and canned beef with water
+from the jug, and cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>All day the <i>Jeanne d'Arc</i> held steadily on the several tacks we
+steered, and all day no living thing but bird or fish disturbed the
+loneliness of the great empty sea. Père Victorien read his breviary
+or told his beads in abstracted contemplation, and I, lying on the
+bottom of the boat with my hat shielding my eyes from the beating
+rays of the sun, pondered on what I knew of Tai-o-hae, the port on
+the island of Nuka-hiva, to which we were bound.</p>
+
+<p>For two hundred years after the discovery of the southern group&mdash;the
+islands we had left behind us&mdash;the northern group was still unknown
+to the world. Captain Ingraham, of Boston, found Nuka-hiva in 1791,
+and called the seven small islets the Washington Islands. Twenty
+years later, during the war of 1812, Porter refitted his ships there
+to prey upon the British, and but for the perfidy,&mdash;or, from another
+view, the patriotism,&mdash;of an Englishman in his command, Porter might
+have succeeded in making the Marquesas American possessions.</p>
+
+<p>Tai-o-hae became the seat of power of the whites in the islands; it
+waxed in importance, saw admirals, governors, and bishops sitting in
+state on the broad verandas of government buildings, witnessed that
+new thing, the making of a king and queen, knew the stolid march of
+convicts, white and brown, images of saints carried in processions,
+and schools opened to regenerate the race of idol-worshippers.</p>
+
+<p>Tai-o-hae saw all the plans of grandeur wane, saw saloons and opium,
+vice and disease, fastened upon the natives, and saw the converted,
+the old gods overthrown, the new God reigning, cut down like trees
+when the fire runs wild in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>The dream of minting the strength and happiness of the giant men of
+the islands into gold for the white labor-kings dissolved into a
+nightmare as the giants perished. It was hard to make the free
+peoples toil as slaves for foreign masters, so the foreign masters
+brought opium. To get this &ldquo;Cause of Wonder Sleep,&rdquo; of more delight
+than <i>kava</i>, the Marquesan was taught to hoe and garner cotton, to
+gather copra and even to become the servant of the white man. The
+hopes of the invaders were rosy. They faded quickly. The Marquesans
+faded faster. The saloons of Tai-o-hae were gutters of drunkenness.
+The <i>paepaes</i> were wailing-places for the dead. No government
+arrested vice or stopped the traffic in death-dealing drugs until too
+late. Then, with no people left to exploit, the colonial ministers
+in Paris forgot the Marquesas.</p>
+
+<p>In the lifetime of a man, Tai-o-hae swelled from a simple native
+village with thousands of healthy, happy people, to the capital of
+an archipelago, with warships, troops, prisons, churches, schools,
+and plantations, and reverted to a deserted, melancholy beach, with
+decaying, uninhabited buildings testifying to catastrophe. Since
+Kahuiti, my man-eating friend of Taaoa, was born, the cycle had been
+completed.</p>
+
+<p>I was on my way now to see, in Tai-o-hae, a man who was giving his
+life to bring the white man's religion to the few dying natives who
+remained.</p>
+
+<p>At dusk the wind died, and we put out the oars. Hour after hour the
+rowers pulled, chanting at times ancient lays of the war-canoes, of
+the fierce fights of their fathers when hundreds fed the sharks
+after the destruction of their vessels by the conquerors, and of the
+old gods who had reigned before the white men came. Père Victorien
+listened musingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They should be singing of the Blessed Mother or of Joan,&rdquo; he said
+with sorrow. &ldquo;But when they pull so well I cannot deny them a thread
+of that old pagan warp. Those devils whom they once worshipped wait
+about incessantly for a word of praise. They hate the idea that we
+are hurrying to the mission, and they would like well to delay us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Whatever the desires of those devils, they were balked, for the wind
+came fair during the second night, and when the second dawning came
+we were in the bay of Tai-o-hae.</p>
+
+<p>It was a basin of motionless green water, held in the curve of a
+shore shaped like a horseshoe, with two huge headlands of rock for
+the calks. The beach was a rim of white between the azure of the
+water and the dark green of the hills that rose steeply from it.
+Above them the clouds hung in varying shapes, here lit by the sun to
+snowy fleece, there black and lowering. On the lower slopes a few
+houses peeped from the embowering <i>parau</i> trees, and on a small hill,
+near the dismantled fort, the flag of France drooped above the
+gendarme's cabin.</p>
+
+<p>By eight o'clock in the morning, when we reached the shore, the
+beach was shimmering in the sunlight, the sand gleaming under the
+intense rays as if reflecting the beams of gigantic mirrors.
+Heat-waves quivered in the moist air.</p>
+
+<p>This was the beach that had witnessed the strange career of John
+Howard, a Yankee sailor who had fled a Yankee ship fifty years
+before and made his bed for good and all in the Marquesas. Lying
+Bill Pincher had told me the story. Howard, known to the natives as
+T'yonny, had been welcomed by them in their generous way, and the
+<i>tahuna</i> had decorated him from head to foot in the very highest
+style of the period. In a few years, what with this tattooing and
+with sunburn, one would have sworn him to be a Polynesian. He was
+ambitious, and by alliances acquired an entire valley, which he left
+to his son, T'yonny Junior. Mr. Howard, senior, garbed himself like
+the natives and was like them in many ways, but he retained a deep
+love for his country and its flag, and when he saw an American
+man-of-war entering the harbor, he went aboard with his many tawny
+relatives-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>The captain was amazed to hear him talking with the sailors.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'E was blooming well knocked off 'is pins,&rdquo; said Lying Bill.
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Blow me!&rsquo; 'e sez, &lsquo;if that blooming cannibal don't talk the King's
+English as if 'e was born in New York!&rsquo; 'E 'ad 'im down in the cabin
+to 'ave a drink, thinking 'e was a big chief. 'Oward took a cigar and
+smoked it and drank 'is whiskey with a gulp and a wry face like all
+Americans.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I must say,&rsquo; sez the captain, &lsquo;you're the most intelligent 'eathen
+I've seen in the 'ole blooming run.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;'Eathen?&rsquo; sez 'Oward. &lsquo;Me a 'eathen! I was born in Iowa, and I'm a
+blooming good American.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;What, you an American citizen?&rsquo; sez the captain. &lsquo;Born in my own
+state, and painted up like Sitting Bull on the warpath? Get off this
+ship,&rsquo; sez 'e, wild, &lsquo;get off this ship, or I'll put you in irons
+and take you back to the blooming jail you escaped from!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'Oward leaped over the side and swum ashore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>An avenue ran the length of the beach, shaded by trees, and crossing
+a gentle stream. Along this avenue was all the life and commerce of
+Tai-o-hae. Two traders' shops, empty offices, a gendarme, a handful
+of motley half-castes lounging under the trees&mdash;this was all that
+was left of former greatness. Only nature had not changed. It flung
+over the broken remnants of the glory and the dream its lovely cloak
+of verdure and of flower. Man had almost ceased to be a figure in the
+scene he had dominated for untold centuries.</p>
+
+<p>Crossing the stepping-stones of the brook we met a darkish, stout
+man in overalls.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good morn',&rdquo; he said pleasantly. I looked at him and guessed his
+name at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;You are the son of T'yonny.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My father, Mist' Howard, dead,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You <i>Menike</i> like him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Before I could answer something entered my ear and something my nose.
+These somethings buzzed and bit fearsomely. I coughed and sputtered.
+An old woman on the bank was sitting in the smudge of a fire of
+cocoanut husks. She was scratching her arms and legs, covered with
+angry red blotches.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>nonos</i> never stop biting,&rdquo; she said in French. These <i>nonos</i>
+are the dread sand-flies that Père Victorien had run from to get
+some sleep in Atuona. They are a kind of gadfly, red-hot needles on
+wings.</p>
+
+<p>We sauntered along the road, tormented by the buzzing pests at which
+we constantly slapped and, crossing a tiny bridge over the brook,
+approached the Mission of Tai-o-hae, that once pompous and powerful
+center of the diffusion of the faith throughout the Marquesas. The
+road was lined with guavas, mangos, cocoanuts, and tamarinds, all
+planted with precision and care. The ambitious fathers who had begun
+these plantings scores of years before had provided the choicest
+fruits for their table. All over the world the members of the great
+religious orders of Europe have carried the seeds of the best
+varieties of fruits and flowers, of trees and shrubs and vegetables;
+more than organized science they deserve the credit for introducing
+non-native species into all climes.</p>
+
+<p>About the mission grounds was a stone wall, stout and fairly high,
+which had assured protection when orgies of indulgence in rum had
+made the natives brutal. The clergy must survive if souls are to be
+saved. Within the wall stood the church, the school, and a rambling
+rectory, all made beautiful by age and the artistry of tropical
+nature. Mosses and lichens, mosaics of many shades of green, faint
+touches of red and yellow mould, covered the old walls which were
+fast decaying and falling to pieces.</p>
+
+<p>By the half-unhinged door stood an old man of venerable figure, his
+long beard still dark, though his hair was quite white. He wore a
+soiled soutane down to the ankles of his rusty shoes, a sweaty,
+stained, smothering gown of black broadcloth, which rose and
+fell with his hurried respiration. His eyes of deepest brown,
+large and lustrous, were the eyes of an old child, shining with
+simple enthusiasms and lit with a hundred memories of worthy
+accomplishments or efforts.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr39"></a>
+<a href="images/img39.jpg"><img src="images/thumb39.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Père Simeon Delmas' church at Tai-o-hae</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr40"></a>
+<a href="images/img40.jpg"><img src="images/thumb40.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Gathering the <i>feis</i> in the mountains</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Père Victorien presented me, saying that I was a lover of the
+Marquesas, and specially interested in Joan of Arc. Père Simeon
+seized me by the hand and, drawing me toward him, gave me the
+accolade as if I were a reunited brother. Then he presented me to a
+Marquesan man at his side, &ldquo;<i>Le chef de l'isle de Huapu</i>,&rdquo; who was
+waiting to escort him to that island that he might say mass and hear
+confession. The chief was for leaving at once, and Père Simeon
+lamented that he had no time in which to talk to me.</p>
+
+<p>I said I had heard it bruited in my island of Hiva-oa that the
+celebration of the fete of Joan of Arc had been marked by
+extraordinary events indicating a special appreciation by the
+heavenly hosts.</p>
+
+<p>Tears came into the eyes of the old priest. He dismissed the chief
+at once, and after saying farewell to Père Victorien, who was
+embarking immediately for his own island of Haitheu, Père Simeon and
+I entered his study, a pitifully shabby room where rickety furniture,
+quaking floor, tattered wall-coverings, and cracked plates and
+goblets spelled the story of the passing of an institution once
+possessing grandeur and force. Seated in the only two sound chairs,
+with wine and cigarettes before us, we took up the subject so dear
+to Père Simeon's heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad if you cannot be a Frenchman that at least you are not an
+Englishman,&rdquo; he said fervently. &ldquo;God has punished England for the
+murder of Jeanne d'Arc. That day at Rouen when they burned my beloved
+patroness ended England. Now the English are but merchants, and they
+have a heretical church.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You should have seen the honors we paid the Maid here. <i>Mais,
+Monsieur</i>, she has done much for these islands. The natives love her.
+She is a saint. She should be canonized. But the opposition will not
+down. There is reason to believe that the devil, Satan himself, or
+at least important aides of his, are laboring against the doing of
+justice to the Maid. She is powerful now, and doubtless has great
+influence with the Holy Virgin in Heaven, but as a true saint she
+would be invincible.&rdquo; The old priest's eyes shone with his faith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do not doubt her miraculous intercession?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>Père Simeon lit another cigarette, watered his wine, and lifted from
+a shelf a sheaf of pamphlets. They were hectographed, not printed
+from type, for he is the human printing-press of all this region,
+and all were in his clear and exquisite writing. He held them and
+referred to them as he went on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She was born five hundred years ago on the day of the procession in
+Tai-o-hae. That itself is a marvel. Such an anniversary occurs but
+twice in a millennium. After all my humble services in these islands
+that I should be permitted to be here on such a wonderful day proves
+to me the everlasting mercy of God. Here is the account I have
+written in Marquesan of her life, and here the record of the fête
+upon the anniversary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As he showed me the brochures written beautifully in purple and red
+inks, recording the history of the Maid of Orleans, with many
+canticles in her praise, learned dissertations upon her career and
+holiness, maps showing her march and starred at Oleane, Kopiegne,
+and Rua to indicate that great things had occurred at Orleans, Compiègne,
+and Rouen, Père Simeon pointed out to me that it was of supreme
+importance that the Marquesan people should be given a proper
+understanding of the historical and geographical conditions of
+England and France in Joan's time.</p>
+
+<p>He had spent months, even years, in preparing for the celebration of
+her fête-day.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And <i>Monsieur</i>, by the blessed grace of Joan, only the whites got
+drunk. Not a Marquesan was far gone in liquor throughout the three
+days of the feast. There was temptation in plenty, for though I gave
+only the chiefs and a few intimates any wine, several of the
+Europeans in their enthusiasm for our dear patroness distributed
+absinthe and rum to those who had the price. There was a moment when
+it seemed touch and go between the devil and Joan. But, oh, how she
+came to our rescue! I reproached the whites, locked up the rum, and
+Joan did the rest. It was a three-days' feast of innocence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there are not many whites here?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;There are one hundred and twenty people in
+Tai-o-hae now, and but a few are whites. Alas, <i>mon ami</i>, they do
+not set a good example. They mean well; they are brave men, but they
+do not keep the commandments. Here is a chart I drew showing the
+rise of the church since Peter. It is divided into twenty periods,
+and I have allotted the fifteenth to Joan. She well merits a period.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>My mind continually harked back to the prompting of Père Victorien
+concerning the horse and the girl of the jubilee.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There were signs at the commemoration?&rdquo; I interposed.</p>
+
+<p>Père Simeon glanced at me eagerly. His naivete was not of ignorance
+of men and their motives. He had confessed royalty, cannibals,
+pirates, and nuns. The souls of men were naked under his scrutiny.
+But his faith burned like a lambent flame, and to win to the
+standard of the Maid of Orleans one who would listen was a duty owed
+her, and a rare chance to aid a fellow mortal.</p>
+
+<p>He rose and brushed the cigarette ashes down the front of his frayed
+cassock as an old native woman responded to his call and brought
+another bottle of Bordeaux. The <i>nonos</i> were incessantly active. I
+slapped at them constantly and sucked at the wounds they made. But
+he paid no attention to them at all except when they attacked him
+under his soutane; then he struck convulsively at the spot.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God sends us such trials to brighten our crown,&rdquo; he said
+comfortingly. &ldquo;I have seen white men dead from the <i>nonos</i>. They
+were not here in the old days, but since the jungle has overrun us
+because of depopulation, they are frightful. During the mass, when
+the priest cannot defend himself, they are worst, as if sent by the
+devil who hates the holy sacrifice. But, <i>mon vieux</i>, you were
+asking about those signs. <i>Alors</i>, I will give the facts to you, and
+you can judge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He poured me a goblet of the wine; I removed my cotton coat, covered
+my hands with it, against the gadflies, and prepared to listen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Seven years before the great anniversary,&rdquo; said Père Simeon,
+sipping his wine, &ldquo;I thought out my plan. There would be masses,
+vespers, benedictions, litanies, and choirs. But my mind was set
+upon a representation of the Maid as she rode into Rheims to crown
+the king after her victories. She was, you will remember, clothed
+all in white armor and rode a white horse, both the emblems of purity.
+That was the note I would sound, for I believe too much had been
+made of Joan the warrior, Joan the heroine, and not enough of Joan
+the saint. Oh, <i>Monsieur</i>, there have been evil forces at work there!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He clasped his thigh with both hands and groaned, and I knew that
+though a <i>nono</i> had bitten him there, his anguish was more of soul
+than body. I lighted his cigarette, as he proceeded:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two things were needful above all; a handsome white horse and a
+Marquesan girl of virtue. Three years before the jubilee I was
+enabled, through a gift inspired by Joan, to buy a horse of that
+kind in Hiva-oa. I had this mare pastured on that island until the
+time came for bringing her here.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now as to the girl, I found in the nun's school a child who was
+beautiful, strong, and good. Her father was the captain of a foreign
+vessel and had dwelt here for a time; he was of your country. Of the
+mother I will not speak. The girl was everything to be desired. But
+this was seven years before the day of the fête. That was a
+difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I stressed to the good sisters the absolute necessity of bringing
+up the child in the perfect path of sanctity. I had her dedicated to
+Joan, and special prayers were said by me and by the nuns that the
+evil one would not trap her into the sins of other Marquesan girls.
+Also she was observed diligently. For seven years we watched and
+prayed, and <i>Monsieur</i>, we succeeded. I will not say that it was a
+miracle, but it was a very striking triumph for Joan.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That for the human; now for the beast. A month before the fête I
+commissioned Captain Capriata to bring the mare to Tai-o-hae in his
+schooner. The animal came safely to the harbor. She was still on deck
+when a storm arose, and Capriata thought it best for him to lift his
+anchor and go to the open sea. The wind was driving hard toward the
+shore, and there was danger of shipwreck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old priest stood up and, leading me to a window, pointed to the
+extreme end of the horseshoe circle of the bay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See that point,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Right there, just as Capriata swung his
+vessel to head for the sea, the mare broke loose from her halter,
+and in a bound reached the rail of the schooner and leaped into the
+waves. Capriata could do nothing. The schooner was in peril, and he,
+with his hand upon the wheel and his men at the sails, could only
+utter an oath. He confesses he did that, and you will find no man
+more convinced of the miracle than he.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The aged missionary paused, his eyes glowing. The <i>nonos</i> that
+settled in a swarm on his swollen, poisoned hands were nothing to
+him in the rapture of that memory.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This happened at night. Throughout the darkness the schooner stayed
+outside the bay, returning only at daylight. Immediately after
+anchoring, the captain hastened to inform me of the misfortune, and
+found me saying mass. It was one of the few times he had ever been
+in the sacred edifice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Père Simeon smiled, and held up one finger to emphasize my attention.
+&ldquo;As soon as mass was finished, Capriata told me of what had happened,
+and his certainty that the mare was drowned. I fell on my knees and
+said a despairing prayer to Joan. That instant we heard a neigh
+outside, and rushing out of the church, we saw, cropping the grass
+in the mission enclosure, the white mare that was destined to bear
+the figure of Joan in the celebration of her fete.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I could not restrain an exclamation of amazement. &ldquo;<i>Vraiment?</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Absolument</i>,&rdquo; answered Père Simeon. &ldquo;Unbelievers might explain that
+waves swept the mare ashore, and that through some instinct she
+found her way along the beach or over the hills. But that she should
+come to the mission grounds, to the very spot where her home was to
+be, though she had never seen the islands before&mdash;no, my friend, not
+even the materialist could explain that as less than supernatural. I
+have sent the proofs to our order in Belgium. They will form part of
+the evidence that will one day be offered to bring about the
+canonization of Joan.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the procession, was it successful?&rdquo; I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mais oui!</i> It was magnificent. When it started there was a grand
+fanfare of trumpets, drums, fireworks, and guns. Never was there
+such a noise here since the days of battle between the whites and
+the natives. There were four choirs of fifty voices each, the
+natives from all these nearby islands, each with a common chant in
+French and particular <i>himines</i> in Marquesan. I walked first with
+the Blessed Sacrament; then came Captain Capriata with the banner of
+the mission, and then, proceeded by a choir, came the virgin on the
+white horse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She was all in silver armor, as was the mare. Two years before I
+had sent to France for the pasteboard and the silver paper, and had
+made the armor. The helmet was the <i>pièce de résistance</i>. The girl
+wore it as the Maid herself, and sat the horse without faltering,
+despite the <i>nonos</i> and the heat. It was a wonderful day for Joan
+and for the Marquesas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He sat for a moment lost in the vision.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it was all as you had planned?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon ami</i>, it was not I, but Joan herself, to whom all honor belongs.
+There was a moment&mdash;Captain Capriata had taken absinthe with his
+morning <i>popoi</i>, and was unsteady. He stumbled. I called to him to
+breathe a prayer to his patron saint&mdash;he is of Ajaccio in
+Corsica&mdash;and to call upon Joan for aid. He straightened up at once,
+after one fall, and bore the white banner of the Maid in good style
+from the mission to the deserted inn by the leper-house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We had three superb feasts, one on each day of the fête. We had
+speeches and songs, three masses a day to accommodate all, four
+first communicants, and two marriages. I will tell you, though it
+may be denied by the commercial missionaries, that five protestants
+attended and recanted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Père Simeon's eyes flashed as he recalled those memorable days. He
+fell into a reverie, scratching his legs after the <i>nonos</i> and
+letting his cigarette go out.</p>
+
+<p>I arose to depart. He must go to Huapu with the chief, who was again
+at the door,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And did the fête help the parish?&rdquo; I asked with that bromidic zeal
+to please that so often discloses the fly just when the ointment's
+smell is sweetest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; he replied, with a sorrowful shake of his beard. &ldquo;Even the
+girl who had worn the white armor leaped from the mast of a ship to
+escape infamy and was drowned. Yet there was grandeur of sacrifice in
+that. But for the others, they die fast, too. Some day the priest
+will be alone here without a flock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He picked up a garment or two, placed the Holy Sacrament with pious
+care in his breast, and we walked together through the mournful and
+decaying village, passing a few melancholy natives.</p>
+
+<p>I said to Père Simeon as he stepped into the canoe, &ldquo;You are like a
+shepherd who pursues his sheep wherever they may wander, to gather
+them into the fold at last.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>C'est vrai</i>,&rdquo; he smiled sadly. &ldquo;The bishop himself had to go to
+Hiva-oa from here, because there were really not enough people left
+alive for the seat of his bishopric. At least, there will be some
+here when I die, for I am old. Ah, thirty years ago, when I came here,
+there were souls to be saved! Thousands of them. But I love the last
+one. There are still a hundred left on Huapu. There is work yet, for
+the devil grows more active yearly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>America's claim to the Marquesas; adventures of Captain Porter in
+1812; war between Haapa and Tai-o-hae, and the conquest of Typee
+valley.</i></p>
+
+<p>America might have been responsible for the death of the Marquesan
+race had not the young nation been engaged in a deadly struggle with
+Great Britain when an American naval captain, David Porter, seized
+Nuka-hiva. A hundred years ago the Stars and Stripes floated over
+the little hill above the bay, and American cannon upon it commanded
+the village of Tai-o-hae. Beneath the verdure is still buried the
+proclamation of Porter, with coins of the young republic, unless the
+natives dug up the bottle after the destruction of the last of
+Porter's forces. They witnessed the ceremony of its planting, which
+must have appeared to them a ritual to please the powerful gods of
+the whites. Unless respect for the <i>tapu</i> placed on the bottle by
+&ldquo;Opotee&rdquo; restrained them, they probably brought it to the light and
+examined the magic under its cork.</p>
+
+<p>The adventures of Porter here were as strange and romantic as those
+of any of the hundreds of the gypsies of the sea who sailed this
+tropic and spilled the blood of a people unused to their ways and
+ignorant of their inventions and weapons of power.</p>
+
+<p>Porter had left the United States in command of the frigate <i>Essex</i>,
+to destroy British shipping, capture British ships, and British
+sailors. Porter, son and nephew of American naval officers, destined
+to be foster-father of Farragut, the first American admiral, and
+father of the great Admiral Porter, was then in his early thirties
+and loved a fight. He harried the British in the Atlantic, doubled
+Cape Horn without orders, and did them evil on the high seas, and at
+last, with many prisoners and with prize crews aboard his captures,
+he made for the Marquesas to refresh his men, repair his ships, and
+get water, food, and wood for the voyage home.</p>
+
+<p>In Tai-o-hae Bay he moored his fleet, and was met by flocks of
+friendly canoes and great numbers of the beautiful island women, who
+swam out to meet the strangers. Among them he found Wilson, an
+Englishman who had long been here and who was tattooed from head to
+foot. On first seeing this man Porter was strongly prejudiced
+against him, but found him extremely useful as an interpreter, and
+concluded that he was an inoffensive fellow whose only failing was a
+strong attachment to rum. With Wilson's eagerly offered help, Porter
+made friends with the people of Tai-o-hae, established a camp on
+shore, and set about revictualing his fleet.</p>
+
+<p>The tribes of Tai-o-hae, or Tieuhoy, as Porter called it, were
+annoyed by the combative Hapaa tribe, or collection of tribes, which
+dwelt in a nearby valley, and these doughty warriors came within
+half a mile of the American camp, cut down the breadfruit trees, and
+made hideous gestures of derision at the white men. In response,
+Porter landed a six-pound gun, tremendously heavy, and said that if
+the Tai-o-hae tribe would carry it to the top of a high mountain
+overlooking the Hapaa valley, he would drive the Hapaas from the
+hills where they stood and threatened to descend.</p>
+
+<p>To Porter's amazement, the Tai-o-hae men, surmounting incredible
+difficulties, laid the gun in position, and as the Hapaas scorned
+the futile-looking contrivance and declared that they would not make
+peace with the whites, Porter sent his first assistant with forty men,
+armed with muskets and accompanied by natives carrying these weapons
+and ammunition for the cannon.</p>
+
+<p>The battle began with a great roar of exploding gunpowder, and from
+the ships the Americans saw their men driving from height to height
+the Hapaas, who fought as they retreated, daring the enemy to follow
+them. A friendly native bore the American flag and waved it in
+triumph as he skipped from crag to crag, well in the rear of the
+white men who pursued the fleeing enemy.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon the victorious forces descended, carrying five dead.
+The Hapaas, fighting with stones flung from slings and with spears,
+had taken refuge, to the number of four or five thousand, in a
+fortress on the brow of a hill. Not one of them had been wounded, and
+from their impassable heights they threw down jeers and showers of
+stones upon the retiring Tai-o-haes and their white allies.</p>
+
+<p>This was intolerable. On the second day, with augmented forces, the
+Americans stormed the height and took the fort, killing many Hapaas,
+who, knowing nothing of the effect of musket bullets, fought till
+dead. The wounded were dispatched with war-clubs by the Tai-o-haes,
+who dipped their spears in the blood. Wilson said the Tai-o-haes
+would eat the corpses. Porter, horrified, interrogated his allies,
+who denied any such horrid appetite, so that Porter was not sure
+what to believe.</p>
+
+<p>The Hapaas were now become lovers of the whites, and sent a
+deputation to complain that the Taipis (Typees), in another valley,
+harrassed them and, being their traditional enemies, were
+contemplating raiding Hapaa Valley. The Typees were the most
+terrible of all the Nuka-hivans, with four thousand fighting men,
+with strongest fortifications and the most resolute hearts.</p>
+
+<p>The Typees were informed that they must be peaceful, also that they
+must send many presents as proof of friendliness, or the white men
+would drive them from their valley. The Typees replied that if
+Porter were strong enough, he could come and take them. They said
+the Americans were white lizards; they could not climb the mountains
+without Marquesans to carry their guns, and yet they talked of
+chastising the Typees, who had never fled before an enemy and whose
+gods were unbeatable. They dared the white men to come among them.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture Porter faced treachery in his own camp. He had many
+English prisoners captured from British ships, and these made a plot
+to escape by poisoning the rum of the Americans. Porter learned of
+this, and finding an American sentry asleep he shot him with his own
+hand, and ordered every Englishman put in irons. He was also
+troubled by mutinies among his own men, who were loth to face any
+more battles, being contented as they were with plenty of drink, the
+best of food, and the passionate devotion of the native women, who
+thronged the camp day and night. With no light hand Porter put down
+revolt and mutiny, and prepared to begin war on the Typees.</p>
+
+<p>First he built a strong fort, assisted by the Tai-o-haes and Hapaas,
+and there he took possession of the Marquesas in the name of the
+United States. On November 19, 1813, the American flag was run up
+over the fort, a salute of seventeen guns was fired from the
+artillery mounted there and answered from the ships in the bay. Rum
+was freely distributed, and standing in a great concourse of
+wondering natives, with the Englishman, Wilson, at his side
+interpreting his words, Porter read the following proclamation:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>It is hereby made known to the world that I, David Porter,
+a captain in the navy of the United States of America, now in
+command of the United States frigate <i>Essex</i>, have, on the part
+of the United States, taken possession of the island called by
+the natives Nooaheevah, generally known by the name of Sir
+Henry Martin's Island, but now called Madison's Island. That
+by the request and assistance of the friendly tribes residing in
+the valley of Tieuhoy, as well as of the tribes residing on the
+mountains, whom we have conquered and rendered tributary
+to our flag, I have caused the village of Madison to be built,
+consisting of six convenient houses, a rope-walk, bakery, and
+other appurtenances, and for the protection of the same, as
+well as for that of the friendly natives, I have constructed a
+fort calculated for mounting sixteen guns, whereon I have
+mounted four, and called the same Fort Madison.</p>
+
+<p>Our rights to this island being founded on Priority of discovery,
+conquest, and possession, cannot be disputed. But the
+natives, to secure to themselves that friendly protection which
+their defenseless situation so much required, have requested to
+be admitted into the great American family, whose pure republican
+policy approaches so near their own. And in order
+to encourage these views to their own interest and happiness,
+as well as to render secure our claim to an island valuable on
+many considerations, I have taken on myself to promise them
+that they shall be so adopted; that our chief shall be their
+chief; and they have given assurances that such of their brethren
+as may hereafter visit them from the United States shall enjoy
+a welcome and hospitable reception among them and be furnished
+with whatever refreshments and supplies the island may
+afford; that they will protect them against all their enemies
+and as far as lies in their power prevent the subjects of Great
+Britain from coming among them until peace shall take place
+between the two nations.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>There followed a list of the tribes from whom Porter had received
+presents, to the number of thirty-one tribes, and the document
+continued:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Influenced by considerations of humanity, which promise
+speedy civilization to a race of men who enjoy every mental
+and bodily endowment which nature can bestow, and which requires
+only art to perfect, as well as by views of policy, which
+secure to my country a fruitful and populous island possessing
+every advantage of security and supplies for ships, and which
+of all others is most happily situated as respects climate and
+local position, I do declare that I have, in the most solemn
+manner, under the American flag displayed in Fort Madison
+and in the presence of numerous witnesses, taken possession of
+the said island for the use of the United States.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>To the guileless natives, made happy with rum, listening to the
+necessarily imperfect translation of these words, the ceremony may
+well have been a strange magic to unknown gods, but it is not
+difficult to imagine the feelings of Wilson, the tattooed Englishman,
+as he translated this proclamation giving the rich and happy islands
+to a country at war with his own. He listened and repeated, however,
+with patriotic protests unuttered, and prepared to assist Porter in
+his contemplated war against the Typees.</p>
+
+<p>A week later one of the warships, with five boats and ten war-canoes,
+sailed for the Typee beach. Ten canoes of Hapaas joined them there.
+The tops of all the neighboring mountains were thronged with friendly
+warriors armed with clubs, spears, and slings, and altogether not
+less than five thousand men were in the forces under Porter, among
+them thirty-five Americans with guns, which he thought enough.</p>
+
+<p>The Typees pelted them with stones as they sat at breakfast, and
+Porter sent a native ambassador, offering peace at the price of
+submission. He came back, running madly and bruised by his reception.
+Porter then ordered the advance.</p>
+
+<p>The company advanced into the bushes, and were received by a
+veritable rain of stones and spears. Not an enemy was in sight. On
+all sides they heard the snapping sound of the slings, the whistling
+of the stones, the sibilant hiss of the spears that at every step
+fell in increasing numbers, but they could not see whence they came,
+and no whisper or rustle of underbrush revealed the lurking Typees.</p>
+
+<p>They pushed on, hoping to get through the thicket, which Wilson had
+assured them was of no great extent. Lieutenant Down's leg was
+shattered by a stone, and Porter had to send a party with him to the
+rear. This left but twenty-four white men. The native allies did no
+fighting, but merely looked on. They were not going to make bitterer
+enemies of the Typees if the godlike whites could not whip them. The
+situation was desperate.</p>
+
+<p>However, Porter chose to go on. They crossed a river, and in a
+jungle had to crawl on their hands and knees to make progress. They
+thought themselves happy to make their way through this, but
+immediately found themselves confronted by a high wall of rock,
+beyond which the enemy took their stand and showered down stones.
+The cartridges were almost exhausted. Porter sent four men to the
+ship for more, and, with three men knocked senseless by stones, was
+reduced to sixteen men.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing to do but run for safety, and pursued by the
+sneering foe, they gained the beach. Thence he sent another
+messenger to the Typees offering them another chance to surrender
+and pay tribute.</p>
+
+<p>The Typees returned word that they &ldquo;had driven the whites before them,
+that their guns missed fire often, that bullets were not as painful
+as stones or spears, that they had plenty of men to spare and the
+whites had not. They had counted the boats, knew the number they
+would carry, and laughed at the whites.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Hapaas and other allies came down from the hills and began to
+discuss the victory of the Typees, with fear in their voices and a
+certain disdain of the whites. Porter ordered his men into the boats
+to return to the ship, but scarcely had they reached it when the
+Typees rushed on the Hapaas and drove them into the water. Porter
+returned to Tai-o-hae.</p>
+
+<p>There he saw no alternative but to whip the Typees soundly. This
+time he determined to lack no force, and to go without allies. He
+selected two hundred men from his ships and prizes, and, with guides,
+upon a moonlight evening started to march overland to Typee Valley.</p>
+
+<p>At midnight they heard the drums beating in Typee Valley. They had
+had a fearful march over mountain and dale and around yawning
+precipices. Silently they had struggled on, so as to give no hint of
+their intention to Typee sentinels or even to a Hapaa village.
+Numbers of the Tai-o-hae had followed them, but quietly, and these
+now told Porter that the songs floating up from the Typee
+settlements were rejoicings at their victory over the Whites and
+prayers to the gods to send rain to spoil the guns.</p>
+
+<p>Porter was for descending at once, but the Tai-o-haes warned him
+that the path was so steep and dangerous that even in daylight it
+would take all their skill to go down it. To attempt it at night
+would be inviting death.</p>
+
+<p>The Americans lay down to rest on this height, which commanded Typee
+Valley, and shortly rain began to fall in torrents. Cries of joy and
+praise to their gods arose from the Typees. Porter and his men,
+huddled in puddles, unable to find shelter, and fearful that every
+blast of the storm might hurl them from their slippery height, tried
+in vain to keep muskets and powder dry.</p>
+
+<p>At daybreak they found half the ammunition useless, and themselves
+wearied, while the steepness of the track to the valley, and its
+treacherous condition after the rain made it wise to seek the Hapaas
+for rest and food. But, first, they fired a volley to let friendly
+tribes know they still had serviceable weapons, and as threat and
+warning to the Typees. They heard the echo in the blowing of
+war-conches, shouts of defiance, and the squealings of the pigs
+which the Typees began to catch for removal to the rear.</p>
+
+<p>The Hapaas were none too pleasant to the whites, and had to be
+forced by threats to bringing and cooking hogs and breadfruit. All
+day the Americans rested and prepared their arms, at night they slept,
+and at the next daybreak they stood again to view the scene of their
+approaching battle.</p>
+
+<p>The valley lay far below them, about nine miles in length and three
+in width, surrounded on every side, except at the beach, by lofty
+mountains. The upper part was bounded by a precipice many hundred
+feet in height, from which a handsome waterfall dropped and formed a
+meandering stream that found its outlet in the sea. Villages were
+scattered here and there, in the shade of luxuriant cocoanut- and
+breadfruit-groves; plantations were laid out in good order, enclosed
+within stone walls and carefully cultivated; roads hedged with
+bananas cut across the spread of green; everything spoke of industry,
+abundance, and happiness.</p>
+
+<p>A large force of Typee warriors, gathered beside the river that
+glided near the foot of the mountain, dared the invaders to descend.
+In their rear was a fortified village, secured by strong stone walls.
+Nevertheless, the whites started down, and in a shower of stones
+captured the village, killed the chief Typee warrior, and chasing
+his men from wall to wall, slew all who did not escape. Few fled,
+however; they charged repeatedly, even to the very barrels of the
+muskets and pistols.</p>
+
+<p>Porter realized that he would have to fight his way over every foot
+of the valley. He cautioned conservation of cartridges, and leaving
+two small parties behind to guard the wounded, he, with the main body,
+marched onward, followed by hordes of Tai-o-hae and Hapaa men, who
+dispatched the wounded Typees with stones and spears. They burned
+and destroyed ten villages one by one as they were reached, until
+the head of the valley was reached.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the waterfall they turned and began the nine-mile
+tramp to the bay. Again they had to meet spear and stone as they
+burned temples and homes, great canoes, and wooden gods. Finally
+Porter attained the fort that had stopped him during the first fight,
+and found it a magnificent piece of construction, of great basaltic
+slabs, impregnable from the beach side. He saw that if he had tried
+that entrance to the valley again, he would have failed as before.
+Only heavy artillery could have conquered that mighty stronghold.</p>
+
+<p>From the beach the Americans climbed by an easier ascent into the
+mountains, leaving a desolated valley behind them, and after
+feasting with the Hapaas, they marched back to Tai-o-hae almost dead
+with fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>The Typees sued for peace, and when asked for four hundred hogs sent
+so many that Porter released five hundred after branding them. He
+had made peace between all the tribes; war was at an end; and with
+the island subdued, Porter sailed again to make war on British
+shipping.</p>
+
+<p>He left behind him three captured ships in charge of three officers
+and twenty men, with six prisoners of war, ordering them to remain
+five months and then go to Chile if no word came from him. Within a
+few days the natives began again to show the spirit of resistance
+and were brought to courtesy by a show of force. Then another
+difficulty arose. All but eight of the crew joined with the English
+prisoners in seizing the officers, and put Lieutenant Gamble, the
+commander, with four loyal seamen, adrift in a small boat, while the
+mutineers went to sea in one of the English ships.</p>
+
+<p>The five men reached another of the ships in the bay, where they
+learned that Wilson had instigated the mutiny. The worst had not come,
+for very soon the natives, perhaps also urged on by the Englishman,
+murdered all the others but Gamble, one seaman, one midshipman, and
+five wounded men. Of the eight survivors, only one was acquainted
+with the management of a ship, and all were sufferings from wounds
+or disease. With these men Lieutenant Gamble put to sea.</p>
+
+<p>After incredible hardship, he succeeded in reaching Hawaii, only to
+be captured by a British frigate which a few weeks earlier had
+assisted in the capture of the <i>Essex</i> and Captain Porter. The
+United States never ratified Porter's occupation of Nuka-hiva, and
+it was left for the French thirty years later to seize the group. At
+about the same time Herman Melville, an American sailor, ventured
+overland into Typee Valley, and was captured and treated as a royal
+guest by the Typee people. He lived there many months, and heard no
+whisper of the havoc wrought by his countrymen a little time before.
+The Typees had forgiven and forgotten it; he found them a happy,
+healthy, beautiful race, living peacefully and comfortably in their
+communistic society, coveting nothing from each other as there was
+plenty for all, eager to do honor to a strange guest who, they hoped,
+would teach them many useful things.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A visit to Typee; story of the old man who returned too late.</i></p>
+
+<p>I said, of course, that I must visit Typee, the scene of Porter's
+bloody raid and Herman Melville's exploits, and while I was making
+arrangements to get a horse in Tai-o-hae I met Haus Ramqe,
+supercargo of the schooner <i>Moana</i>, who related a story concerning
+the valley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was working in the store of the Socéité Comerciale de l'Ocean in
+Tai-o-hae when the <i>Tropic Bird</i>, a San Francisco mail-schooner,
+arrived. That was ten years ago. An old man, an American, came into
+our place and asked the way to Typee.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Ah,&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;you have been reading that book by Melville.&rsquo; He
+made no reply, but asked me to escort him to the valley. We set out
+on horseback, and though he had not said that he had ever been in
+these islands before, I saw that he was strangely interested in the
+scenes we passed. He was rather feeble with age, and he grew so
+excited as we neared the valley that I asked him what he expected to
+see there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He stopped his horse, and hesitated in his reply. He was terribly
+agitated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I lived in Typee once upon a time,&rsquo; he said slowly. &lsquo;Could there
+by chance be a woman living there named Manu? That was a long time
+ago, and I was young. Still, I am here, and she may be, too.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I looked at him and could not tell him the truth. It was evident he
+had made no confidant of the captain or crew of the <i>Tropic Bird</i>,
+for they could have told him of the desolation in Typee. I hated,
+though, to have him plump right into the facts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;How many people were there in your day?&rsquo; I asked him. He replied
+that there were many thousands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I lived there three years,&rsquo; he said. &lsquo;I had a sweetheart named Manu,
+and I married her in the Marquesan way. I was a runaway sailor, and
+one night on the beach I was captured and taken away on a ship. I
+have been captain of a great American liner for years, always
+meaning to come back, and putting it off from year to year. All my
+people are dead, and I thought I would come now and perhaps find her
+here and end my days. I have plenty of money.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He seemed childish to me&mdash;perhaps he really had lost mental poise
+by age. I hadn't the courage to tell him the truth. We came on it
+soon enough. You must see Typee to realize what people mean to a
+place.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>nonos</i> were simply hell, but as I had lived a good many years
+in Tai-o-hae I was hardened to them. The old man slapped at them
+occasionally, but made no complaint. He hardly seemed to feel them,
+or to realize what their numbers meant. It was when we pushed up the
+trail through the valley, and he saw only deserted <i>paepaes</i>, that
+he began to look frightened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Are they all gone?&rsquo; he inquired weakly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;No,&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;there are fifteen or twenty here.&rsquo; We came to a
+clearing and there found the remnant of the Typees. I questioned them,
+but none had ever heard of him. There had been many Manus,&mdash;the word
+means bird,&mdash;but as they were the last of the tribe, she must have
+been dead before they were born, and they no longer kept in their
+memories the names of the dead, since there were so many, and all
+would be dead soon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The American still understood enough Marquesan to understand their
+answers, and taking me by the arm he left the horses and led me up
+the valley till he came to a spot where there were fragments of an
+old <i>paepae</i>, buried in vines and torn apart by their roots.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;We lived here,&rsquo; he said, and then he sat on the forsaken stones
+and cried. He said that they had had two children, and he had been
+sure that at least he would find them alive. His misery made me feel
+bad, and the damned <i>nonos</i>, too, and I cried&mdash;I don't know how damn
+sentimental it was, but that was the way it affected me. The old
+chap seemed so alone in the world.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;It is three miles from here to the beach,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;and I have
+seen men coming with their presents for the chief, walking a yard
+apart, and yet the line stretched all the way to the beach.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He could hardly ride back to Tai-o-hae, and he departed with the
+<i>Tropic Bird</i> without saying another word to any one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Typee, they told me, was half way to Atiheu and a good four miles by
+horse. The road had been good when the people were many, and was
+still the main road of the island, leading through the Valley of
+Hapaa. My steed was borrowed of T'yonny Howard, who, though he owned
+a valley, poured cement for day's wages.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What I do?&rdquo; he asked, as if I held the answer. &ldquo;Nobody to help me
+work there. I cannot make copra alone. Even here they bring men from
+other place do work. Marquesan die too fast.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If T'yonny revered his father's countrymen, his horse did not. These
+island horses are unhappy-looking skates, though good climbers and
+sliders.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't need person go with you,&rdquo; said the son of the former
+living picture. &ldquo;That horsey know. You stay by him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The saddle must have been strange to the horsey, for uneasiness
+communicated itself from him to me as we set out, an uneasiness
+augmented to me by the incessant vicious pricks of the ever-present
+<i>nonos</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The way led ever higher above the emerald bay of Tai-o-hae set in
+the jade of the forest, and valley after valley opened below as the
+trail edged upward on the face of sheer cliffs or crossed the little
+plateaus of their summits. Hapaa lay bathed in a purple mist that
+hid from me the mute tokens of depopulation; Hapaa that had given
+Porter its thousands of naked warriors, and that now was devoid of
+human beings.</p>
+
+<p>Dipping slightly downward again, the trail lay on the rim of a deep
+declivity, a sunless gulf in which the tree-tops fell away in rank
+below rank into dim depths of mistiness. There was no sign of human
+passing on the vine-grown trail, a vague track through a melancholy
+wilderness that seemed to breathe death and decay. A spirit of gloom
+seemed to rise from the shadowed declivity, from the silence of the
+mournful wood and the damp darkness of the leaf-hidden earth.</p>
+
+<p>I had given myself over to musing upon the past, but suddenly in the
+narrowest part of the trail the beast I rode turned and took my
+canvas-covered toes in his yellow teeth. A vague momentary flash of
+horror came over me. Did I bestride a metempsychosized man-eater, a
+revenant from the bloody days of Nuka-hiva? In those wicked eyes I
+saw reflected the tales of transmigatory vengeance, from the wolf of
+Little Red Riding Hood to the ass that one becomes who kills a
+Brahman. I gave vent at the same second to a shriek of anguish and
+struck the animal upon the nose, the tenderest part of his anatomy
+within reach. He released my foot, whirled, cavorted, and, as I
+seized a tree fern on the bank, went heels over head over the cliff.</p>
+
+<p>T'yonny had said to &ldquo;stay by horsey,&rdquo; but he could not have foreseen
+the road he would take. I was sorry for him as I heard the
+reverberations of his crashing fall. No living thing could escape
+death in such a drop, for though the cliff down which he had
+disappeared was not absolutely perpendicular, it was nearly so.
+Peering over it, I could not see his corpse, for fern and tree-top
+hid all below. At least, I thought, he had surcease of all ills now.
+And so I descended the steep trail on foot&mdash;mostly on one
+foot&mdash;until I reached the vale of Typee.</p>
+
+<p>I found myself in a loneliness indescribable and terrible. No sound
+but that of a waterfall at a distance parted the somber silence. The
+trail was through a thicket of ferns, trees, and wild flowers. The
+perfume of <i>Hinano</i>, of the <i>vaovao</i>, with its delicate blue flowers,
+and the <i>vaipuhao</i>, whose leaves are scented like violets, filled
+the heavy air, and I passed acres of <i>kokou</i>, which looks like
+tobacco, but has a yellow fruit of delicious odor. It was such a
+garden as the prince who woke the <i>Sleeping Beauty</i> penetrated to
+reach the palace where she lay entranced, and something of the same
+sense of dread magic lay upon it. Humanity was not so much absent as
+gone, and a feeling of doom and death was in the motionless air,
+which lay like a weight upon leaf and flower.</p>
+
+<p>The thin, sharp buzzing of the <i>nonos</i> was incessant. They had come
+when man departed; there were none when Porter devastated the valley,
+nor when Melville spent his happy months here thirty years later. One
+must move briskly to escape them now, and I was pushing through the
+bushes that strove to obliterate the trail when I came upon a native.</p>
+
+<p>He was so old that he must have been a youth in the valley when it
+was visited by the American-liner captain as a boy. He was quite
+nude save for a ragged cincture, and his body had shrunk and puckered,
+and his skin had folded and discolored until he looked as if life
+had ebbed away from him and left him high and dry between the past
+and the hereafter. A ragged chin beard, ashen in hue, hung below his
+gaping, empty mouth. But there was a spirit in his bosom still, for
+upon his head he wore a circle of bright flowers to supplement the
+sparse locks.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes were barely openable, and his face, indeed, his whole body,
+was a coppery green, the soot of the candlenut, black itself, but
+blue upon the flesh, having turned by age to a mottled and hideous
+color. Only the striking patterns, where they branched from the
+biceps to the chest, were plain.</p>
+
+<p>That he had been one of the great of Nuka-hiva was certain; the fact
+was stamped indelibly upon his person, and though worn and faded to
+the ghastly green of old copper, it remained to proclaim his lineage
+and his rank.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Kaoha te iki!</i>&rdquo; said this ancient, as he stood in the path.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Kaoha e!</i>&rdquo; I saluted him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Puaka piki enata</i>&rdquo; he said further, and pointed down the trail.</p>
+
+<p>What could he mean? <i>Puaka</i> is pig, <i>piki</i> is to mount or climb,
+and <i>enata</i> is man. A great white light beat about my brow. &ldquo;The pig
+men climb?&rdquo; Could he mean Rozinante, the steed to whom T'yonny had
+entrusted me, and who had so basely deserted his trust over a cliff?</p>
+
+<p>I hurried on incredulous, and, in a clearing where there were three
+or four horses, beheld the suicide grazing upon the luscious grass.
+He had lost much cuticle, and the saddle was in shreds, but the
+<i>puaka piki enata</i> was evidently in fairly good health.</p>
+
+<p>The old man had slowly followed me down the trail, and he stood
+within the doorway of a rude hut, blinking in the sun as he watched
+my movements. In the houses were altogether fewer than a dozen people.
+They sat by cocoanut-husk fires, the acrid smoke of which daunted
+the <i>nonos</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The reason any human beings endure such tortures to remain in this
+gloomy, deserted spot can only be the affection the Marquesan has
+for his home. Not until epidemics have carried off all but one or
+two inhabitants in a valley can those remaining be persuaded to leave
+it.</p>
+
+<p>This dozen of the Taipi clan are the remainder of the twenty Ramqe
+saw with the heartbroken American. They have clung to their lonely
+<i>paepaes</i> despite their poverty of numbers and the ferocity of the
+<i>nonos</i>. They had clearings with cocoanuts and breadfruit, but
+they cared no longer to cultivate them, preferring rather to sit
+sadly in the curling fumes and dream of the past. One old man read
+aloud the &ldquo;Gospel of St. John&rdquo; in Marquesan, and the others
+listlessly listened, seeming to drink in little comfort from the
+verses, which he recited in the chanting monotone of their <i>uta</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Nine miles in length is Typee, from a glorious cataract that leaps
+over the dark buttress wall where the mountain bounds the valley, to
+the blazing beach. And in all this extent of marvelously rich land,
+the one-time fondly cherished abode of the most valiant clan of the
+Marquesas, of thousands of men and women whose bodies were as
+beautiful as the models for the statues the Greeks made, whose
+hearts were generous, and whose minds were eager to learn all good
+things, there are now this wretched dozen too old or listless to
+gather their own food. In the ruins of a broken and abandoned
+<i>paepae</i>, in the shadow of an acre-covering banian, I smoked and
+asked myself what a Christ would think of the havoc wrought by men
+calling themselves Christians.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Journey on the <i>Roberta</i>; the winged cockroaches; arrival at a Swiss
+paradise in the valley of Oomoa.</i></p>
+
+<p>I sailed from Tai-o-hae for an unknown port, carried by the schooner
+<i>Roberta</i>, which had brought the white mare from Atuona and whose
+skipper had bore so well the white banner of Joan in the procession
+that did her honor. The <i>Roberta</i> was the only vessel in those
+waters and, sailing as she did at the whim of her captain and the
+necessities of trade, none knew when she might return to Nuka-hiva,
+so I could but accept the opportunity she offered of reaching the
+southern group of islands again, and trust to fortune or favor to
+return me to my own island of Hiva-oa.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Roberta</i> lay low in the water, not so heavily sparred as the
+<i>Morning Star</i>, or with her under-cut stern, but old and battered,
+built for the business of a thief-catcher, and with a history as
+scarred as her hull and as slippery as her decks. Was she not once
+the <i>Herman</i>, and before that something else, and yet earlier
+something else, built for the Russians to capture the artful
+poachers of the Smoky Sea? And later a poacher herself, and still
+later stealing men, a black-birder, seizing the unoffending natives
+of these South Seas and selling them into slavery of mine or
+plantation, of guano-heap and sickening alien clime. Her decks have
+run blood, and heard the wailing of the gentle savage torn from his
+beloved home and lashed or clubbed into submission by the superior
+white. Name and color and rig had changed time and again, owners and
+masters had gone to Davy Jones's locker; the old brass cannon on her
+deck had raked the villages of the Marquesans and witnessed a
+thousand deeds of murder and rapine.</p>
+
+<p>I pulled myself aboard by a topping-lift, climbed upon the low
+cabin-house, and jumped down to the tiny poop where Jerome Capriata
+held the helm.</p>
+
+<p>This Corsican, with his more than sixty years, most of them in these
+waters, was a Marquesan in his intuitive skill in handling his
+schooner in all weather, for knowing these islands by a glimpse of
+rock or tree, for landing and taking cargo in all seas. Old and worn,
+like the <i>Roberta</i>, he was known to all who ranged the southern ocean.
+What romances he had lived and seen were hidden in his grizzled bosom,
+for he said little, and nothing of himself.</p>
+
+<p>The supercargo, Henry Lee, a Norwegian of twenty-five years, six of
+which he had passed among the islands, set out the rum and wine and
+a clay bottle of water. He introduced me to Père Olivier, a priest
+of the mission, whose charge was in the island of Fatu-hiva. From
+him I learned that the <i>Roberta</i> was bound for Oomoa, a port of that
+Island.</p>
+
+<p>That I had not been given the vaguest idea what our first landfall
+would be was indicative of the secrecy maintained by these traders
+in the competition for copra. The supply being limited, often it is
+the first vessel on the spot after a harvest that is able to buy it,
+and captains of schooners guard their movements as an army its own
+during a campaign. The traders trust one another as a cat with a
+mouse trusts another cat.</p>
+
+<p>The priest was sitting on a ledge below the taffrail, and I spoke to
+him in Spanish, as I had heard it was his tongue. His <i>buenos dias</i>
+in reply was hearty, and his voice soft and rich. A handsome man was
+Padre Olivier, though in sad disorder. His black soutane, cut like
+the woolen gown of our grandmothers, was soaking wet, and his low
+rough shoes were muddy. A soiled bandana was about his head. His
+finely chiseled features, benign and intelligent, were framed by a
+snow-white beard, and his eyes, large and limpid, looked benevolence
+itself. He was all affability, and eager to talk about everything in
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>The rain, which all day had been falling at intervals, began again,
+and as the <i>Roberta</i> entered the open sea, she began to kick up her
+heels. Our conversation languished. When the supercargo called us
+below for dinner, pride and not appetite made me go. The priest
+answered with a groan. Padre Olivier was prostrate on the deck, his
+noble head on a pillow, his one piece of luggage, embroidered with
+the monogram of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the needlework of the nuns
+of Atuona.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am seasick if I wade in the surf,&rdquo; said the priest, in mournful
+jest.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Roberta's</i> cabin was a dark and noisome hole, filled with
+demijohns and merchandise, with two or three untidy bunks in corners,
+the air soaked with the smells of thirty years of bilge-water,
+sealskins, copra, and the cargoes of island traffic. Capriata, Harry
+Lee, and I sat on boxes at a rough table, which we clutched as the
+<i>Roberta</i> pitched and rolled.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr41"></a>
+<a href="images/img41.jpg"><img src="images/thumb41.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Near the Mission at Hanavave</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr42"></a>
+<a href="images/img42.jpg"><img src="images/thumb42.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Starting from Hanavave for Oomoa</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>When the ragged cook brought the first dish, unmistakably a cat
+swimming in a liquid I could have sworn by my nose to be drippings
+from an ammonia tank, I protested a lack of hunger for any food. My
+ruse passed for the moment, but was exposed by a flock or swarm of
+cockroaches, which, scenting a favorite food, suddenly sprang upon
+the table and upon us, leaping and flying into the plates and
+drawing Corsican curses from Capriata and Norwegian maledictions
+from Lee. I did not wait to see them throwing the invaders from the
+battlements of the table into the moat of salt water and spilt wine
+below, but quickly, though feebly, climbed to the deck and laid
+myself beside Père Olivier, nor could cries that the enemy had been
+defeated and that &ldquo;only a few&rdquo; were flying about, summon me below
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Père Olivier and I stayed prone all night in alternate pelting rain
+and flooding moonlight, as a fair wind bowled us along at six knots
+an hour. Padre Olivier, between naps, recited his rosary to take his
+mind from his woes. I could tell when he finished a decade by his
+involuntary start as he began a new one. I had no such comfort as
+beads and prayers, and the flight of those schooner griffins had
+struck me in the solar plexus of imagination.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Accept them as stations of the cross,&rdquo; said the priest. &ldquo;This life
+is but a step to heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I replied with some comments indicating my belief that cockroaches
+belonged on a still lower rung, and going in an opposite direction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know those <i>blattes</i>, those <i>saligauds</i>,&rdquo; he said with sympathy.
+&ldquo;They are sent by Satan to provoke us to blasphemy. I never go below.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Those pests of insects can hardly be estimated at their true
+dreadfulness by persons unacquainted with the infamous habits of the
+nocturnal beetle of the tropics. Sluggish creatures in the temperate
+zone, in warm countries they develop the power of flying, and
+obstacles successfully interposed to their progress in countries
+where they merely crawl are ineffectual here. They had entire
+possession of the <i>Roberta</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The supercargo, Lee, was not to be blamed, for he told me that once
+he had taken time in port to capture by poisonous lures a number he
+calculated at eight thousand, and that within a month those who had
+escaped had repopulated the old schooner as before. Then he despaired,
+and let them have sway. To sleep or eat among them was not possible
+to me, and the voyage was a nightmare not relieved by an incident of
+the second night.</p>
+
+<p>Capriata, whose feet were calloused from going bare for years, awoke
+from a deep slumber that had been aided by rum, to find that the
+cockroaches in his berth had eaten through the half inch or more of
+hard skin and had begun to devour his flesh. With blasphemous and
+blood-chilling yells he bounded on deck, where he sat treating the
+wounds and cursing unrestrainedly for some time before joining Père
+Olivier and me in democratic slumber on the bare boards. Several
+weeks later his feet had not recovered from their envenomed sores.</p>
+
+<p>When eight bells sounded the hour of four, I got upon my feet and in
+the mellow dawn saw a panorama of peak and precipice, dark and
+threatening, the coast of Fatu-hiva and the entrance to Oomoa Bay,
+the southernmost island of the Marquesas, and the harbor in which
+the first white men who saw the islands anchored over three hundred
+years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Those Spaniards, on whose ships the cross was seen in cabin and
+forecastle, on gun and halberd, murdered many Marquesans at Oomoa to
+glut their taste for blood. The standard of death the white flew
+then has never been lowered. Oomoa and Hanavave, the adjacent bay
+and village, were resorts for whalers, who brought a plague of ills
+that reduced the population of Fatu-hiva from many thousands to less
+than three hundred. Consumption was first brought to the islands by
+one of these whalers, and made such alarming inroads on the people
+of Hanavave that most of the remainder forsook their homes and
+crossed to the island of Tahuata, to escape the devil the white man
+had let loose among them.</p>
+
+<p>We sailed on very slowly after the mountains had robbed us of the
+breeze, and when daylight succeeded the false dawn, we dropped our
+mud hooks a thousand feet from the beach. On it we could see a
+little wooden church and two dwellings, dwarfed to miniature by the
+grim pinnacles of rock, crude replicas of the towers of the Alhambra,
+slender minarets beside the giant cliffs, which were clothed with
+creeping plants in places and in places bare as the sides of a
+living volcano.</p>
+
+<p>The fantastic and majestic assemblage of rock shapes on the shores
+of Fatu-hiva appeared as if some Herculean sculptor with disordered
+brain and mighty hand had labored to reproduce the fearful chimeras
+of his dreams.</p>
+
+<p>The priest and I, with the supercargo, went ashore in a boat at six
+o'clock, and reached a beach as smooth and inviting as that of Atuona.
+A canoe was waiting for Père Olivier; he climbed into it at once,
+his black wet robe clinging to him, and called &ldquo;<i>Adios!</i>&rdquo; as his men
+paddled rapidly for Hanavave, where he was to say mass and hear
+confessions.</p>
+
+<p>Lee and I took a road lined with a wall of rocks, and passing many
+sorts of trees and plants entered an enclosure through a gate.</p>
+
+<p>After a considerable walk through a thrifty plantation, we were in
+front of a European house which gave signs of comfort and taste. At
+the head of a flight of stairs on the broad veranda was a man in
+gold-rimmed eye-glasses and a red breechclout. His well-shaped, bald
+head and punctilious manner would have commanded attention in any
+attire.</p>
+
+<p>I was introduced to Monsieur François Grelet, a Swiss, who had lived
+here for more than twenty years, and who during that time had never
+been farther away than a few miles. Not even Tahiti had drawn him to
+it. Since he arrived, at the age of twenty-four years, he had dwelt
+contentedly in Oomoa.</p>
+
+<p>After we had chatted for a few moments he invited me to be his guest.
+I thought of the <i>Roberta</i> and those two kinds of cockroaches, the
+Blatta orientalis and the Blatta germanica, who raid by night and by
+day respectively; I looked at Grelet's surroundings, and I accepted.
+While the <i>Roberta</i> gathered what copra she could and flitted, I
+became a resident of Oomoa until such time as chance should give me
+passage to my own island.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty years before my host had planted the trees that embowered his
+home. With the Swiss farmer's love of order, he had neglected
+nothing to make neat, as nature had made beautiful, his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I learned agriculture and dairying on my father's farm in
+Switzerland,&rdquo; said Grelet. &ldquo;At school I learned more of their theory,
+and when I had seen the gay cities of Europe, I went to the new
+world to live. I was first at Pecos City, New Mexico, where I had
+several hundred acres' of government land. I brought grape-vines
+from Fresno, in California, but the water was insufficient for the
+sterile soil, and I was forced to give up my land. From San
+Francisco I sailed on the brig <i>Galilee</i> for Tahiti. I have never
+finished the journey, for when the brig arrived at Tai-o-hae I left
+her and installed myself on the <i>Eunice</i>, a small trading-schooner,
+and for a year I remained aboard her, visiting all the islands of
+the Marquesas and becoming so attached to them that I bought land
+and settled down here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Grelet looked about him and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It isn't bad, <i>hein</i>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was not. From the little cove where his boat-house stood a road
+swept windingly to his house through a garden of luxuriant verdure.
+Mango and limes, breadfruit and cocoanut, <i>pomme de Cythère</i>, orange
+and papaws, banana and alligator-pear, candlenut and chestnut,
+mulberry and sandalwood, <i>tou</i>, the bastard ebony, and rosewood, the
+rose-apple with purple tasseled flowers and delicious fruit, the
+pistachio and the <i>badamier</i>, scores of shrubs and bushes and
+magnificent tree-ferns, all on a tangled sward of white spider-lilies,
+great, sweet-smelling plants, an acre of them, and with them other
+ferns of many kinds, and mosses, the nodding <i>taro</i> leaves and the
+<i>ti</i>, the leaves which the Fatu-hivans make into girdles and
+wreaths; all grew luxuriantly, friendly neighbors to the Swiss, set
+there by him or volunteering for service in the generous way of the
+tropics.</p>
+
+<p>The lilies, oranges, and pandanus trees yielded food for the bees,
+whose thatched homes stood thick on the hillside above the house.
+Grelet was a skilled apiarist, and replenished his melliferous
+flocks by wild swarms enticed from the forests. The honey he
+strained and bottled, and it was sought of him by messengers from
+all the islands.</p>
+
+<p>Orchard and garden beyond the house gave us Valencia and Mandarin
+oranges, lemons, <i>feis</i>, Guinea cherries, pineapples, Barbadoes
+cherries, sugar-cane, sweet-potatoes, watermelons, cantaloups, Chile
+peppers, and pumpkins. Watercress came fresh from the river.</p>
+
+<p>Cows and goats browsed about the garden, but Grelet banned pigs to a
+secluded valley to run wild. One of the cows was twenty-two years old,
+but daily gave brimming buckets of milk for our refreshment. Beef
+and fish, breadfruit and <i>taro</i>, good bread from American flour, rum,
+and wine both red and white, with bowls of milk and green cocoanuts,
+were always on the table, a box of cigars, packages of the veritable
+Scaferlati Supérieur tobacco, and the Job papers, and a dozen pipes.
+No king could fare more royally than this Swiss, who during twenty
+years had never left the forgotten little island of Fatu-hiva.</p>
+
+<p>His house, set in this bower of greenery, of flowers and perfumes,
+was airy and neat, whitewashed both inside and out, with a broad
+veranda painted black. Two bedrooms, a storeroom in which he sold
+his merchandise, and a workroom, sufficed for all his needs. The
+veranda was living-room and dining-room; raised ten feet from the
+earth on breadfruit-tree pillars placed on stone, it provided a roof
+for his forge, for his saddle-and-bridle room, and for the small
+kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The ceilings in the house were of wood, but on the veranda he had
+cleverly hung a canvas a foot below the roof. The air circulated
+above it, bellying it out like a sail and making the atmosphere cool.
+Under this was his dining-table, near a very handsome buffet, both
+made by Grelet of the false ebony, for he was a good carpenter as he
+was a crack boatsman, farmer, cowboy, and hunter. Here we sat over
+pipe and cigarette after dinner, wine at our elbows, the garden
+before us, and discussed many things.</p>
+
+<p>Grelet had innumerable books in French and German, all the great
+authors old and modern; he took the important reviews of Germany and
+France, and several newspapers. He knew much more than I of history
+past and present, of the happenings in the great world, art and
+music and invention, finances and politics. He could name the
+cabinets of Europe, the characters and records of their members, or
+discuss the quality of Caruso's voice as compared with Jean de
+Reszke's, though he had heard neither. Twenty-two years ago he had
+left everything called civilization, he had never been out of the
+Marquesas since that time; he lived in a lonely valley in which
+there was no other man of his tastes and education, and he was
+content.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have everything I want; I grow it or I make it. My horses and
+cattle roam the hills; if I want meat, beef or goat or pig, I go or
+I send a man to kill an animal and bring it to me. Fish are in the
+river and the bay; there is honey in the hives; fruit and vegetables
+in the garden, wood for my furniture, bark for the tanning of hides.
+I cure the leather for saddles or chair-seats with the bark of the
+rose-wood. Do you know why it is called rose-wood? I will show you.
+Its bark has the odor of roses when freshly cut. Yes, I have all
+that I want. What do I need from the great cities?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He tamped down the tobacco in his pipe and puffed it meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A man lives only a little while, <i>hein</i>? He should ask himself what
+he wants from life. He should look at the world as it is. These
+traders want money, buying and selling and cheating to get it. What
+is money compared to life? Their life goes in buying and selling and
+cheating. Life is made to be lived pleasantly. Me, I do what I want
+to do with mine, and I do it in a pleasant place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His pipe went out while he gazed at the garden murmurous in the
+twilight. He knocked out the dottle, refilled the bowl and lighted
+the tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You should have seen this island when I came. These natives die too
+fast. Ah, if I could only get labor, I could make this valley
+produce enough for ten thousand people. I could load the ships with
+copra and cotton and coffee.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was twenty-two years and many thousands of miles from the great
+cities of Europe, but he voiced the wail of the successful man the
+world over. If he could get labor, he could turn it into building
+his dreams to reality, into filling his ships with his goods for his
+profit. But he had not the labor, for the fruits of a commercial
+civilization had killed the islanders who had had their own dreams,
+their own ships, and their own pleasures and profits in life.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Labor in the South Seas; some random thoughts on the &ldquo;survival of the
+fittest.&rdquo;</i></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I pictured myself cultivating many hundreds of acres when I first
+came here,&rdquo; said Grelet. &ldquo;I laid out several plantations, and once
+shipped much coffee, as good, too, as any in the world. I gather
+enough now for my own use, and sell none. I grew cotton and
+cocoanuts on a large scale. I raise only a little now.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There were hundreds of able-bodied men here then. I used to buy
+opium from the Chinese labor-contractors and from smugglers, and
+give it to my working people. A pill once a day would make the
+Marquesans hustle. But the government stopped it. They say that the
+book written by the Englishman, Stevenson, did it. We must find
+labor elsewhere soon, Chinese, perhaps. Those two Paumotans brought
+by Begole are a godsend to me. I wish some one would bring me a
+hundred.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two Paumotan youths, Tennonoku and Kedeko-lio, lay motionless on
+the floor of the veranda twenty feet away. They had been sold to
+Grelet for a small sum by Begole, captain of a trading-schooner. In
+passing the Paumotan Islands, many hundred miles to the south,
+Begole had forgotten to leave at Pukatuhu, a small atoll, a few bags
+of flour he had promised to bring the chief on his next voyage, and
+the chief, seeing the schooner a mile away, had ordered these boys to
+swim to it and remind the skipper of his promise. Begole meanwhile
+had caught a wind, and the first he knew of the message was when the
+boys climbed aboard the schooner many miles to sea. He did not
+trouble to land them, but brought them on to the Marquesas and sold
+them to Grelet.</p>
+
+<p>They spoke no Marquesan, and Grelet had difficulty in making them
+understand that they must labor for him, and in enforcing his orders,
+which they could not comprehend. There was little copra being made
+in the rainy weather, and they lay about the veranda or squatted
+on the <i>paepae</i> of the laborers' cookhouse, making a fire of
+cocoanut-husks twice a day to roast their breadfruit. Their savage
+hearts were ever in their own atoll, the home to which the native
+clings so passionately, and their eyes were dark with hopeless
+longing. No doubt they would die soon, as so many do when exiled,
+but Grelet's copra crop would profit first.</p>
+
+<p>The dire lack of labor for copra-making, tree-planting, or any form
+of profitable activity is lamented by all white men in these
+depopulated islands. Average wages were sixty cents a day, but even
+a dollar failed to bring adequate relief. The Marquesan detests labor,
+which to him has ever been an unprofitable expenditure of life and
+did not gain in his eyes even when his toil might enrich white
+owners of plantations. Since every man had a piece of land that
+yielded copra enough for his simple needs, and breadfruit and fish
+were his for the taking, he could not be forced to work except for
+the government in payment for taxes.</p>
+
+<p>The white men in the islands, like exploiters of weaker races
+everywhere in the world, were unwilling to share their profits with
+the native. They were reduced to pleading with or intoxicating the
+Marquesan to procure a modicum of labor. They saw fortunes to be
+made if they could but whip a multitude of backs to bending for them,
+but they either could not or would not perceive the situation from
+the native's point of view.</p>
+
+<p>In America I often heard men who were out of employment,
+particularly in bad seasons, in big cities or in mining camps, argue
+the right to work. They could not enforce this alleged natural right,
+and in their misery talked of the duty of society or the state in
+this direction. But they were obliged to content themselves with the
+thin alleviation of soup-kitchens, charity wood-yards, and other
+easers of hard times, and with threats of sabotage or other violence.</p>
+
+<p>Here in the islands, where work is offered to unwilling natives, the
+employers curse their lack of power to drive them to the copra
+forests, the kilns and boats. Thus, as in highly civilized countries
+we maintain that a man has no inherent or legal right to work, in
+these islands the employer has no weapon by which to enforce toil.
+But had the whites the power to order all to do their bidding, they
+would create a system of peonage as in Mexico.</p>
+
+<p>An acquaintance of mine in these seas took part in, and profited
+largely by, the removal to a distant place of the entire population
+of an island on which the people had led the usual life of the
+Polynesian. He and his associates sold three hundred men to
+plantation labor, which they hated and to which they were
+unaccustomed. Within a year two hundred and fifty of them had died
+as fast as disease could sap their grief-stricken bodies. Their
+former home, which they died longing to see again, was made a
+feeding-place for sheep. The merchants reaped a double toll. They
+were paid well for delivering the owners of the land to the
+plantations, and in addition they got the land.</p>
+
+<p>Now, my acquaintance is a man of university education, a quoter of
+Haeckel and Darwin, with &ldquo;survival of the fittest&rdquo; as his guiding
+motto since his Jena days. Says he, quoting a Scotchman:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tone it down as you will, the fact remains that Darwinism regards
+animals as going up-stairs, in a struggle for individual ends, often
+on the corpses of their fellows, often by a blood-and-iron
+competition, often by a strange mixture of blood and cunning, in
+which each looks out for himself and extinction besets the hindmost.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Further says my stern acquaintance, specially when in his cups:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The whole system of life-development is that of the lower providing
+food for the higher in ever-expanding circles of organic existence,
+from protozoea to steers, from the black African to the educated and
+employing man. We build on the ribs of the steers, and on the backs
+of the lower grade of human.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scientific books have taken the place of the Bible as a
+quotation-treasury of proof for whatever their reader most desires
+to prove. Now I am no scientist and take, indeed, only the casual
+interest of the average man in the facts and theories of science.
+But it appears to me that in his theory of the survival of the
+fittest my acquaintance curiously overlooks the question of man's
+own survival as a species.</p>
+
+<p>If we are to base our actions upon this cold-blooded and inhuman
+view of the universe, let us consider that universe as in fact
+inhuman, and having no concern for man except as a species of animal
+very possibly doomed to extinction, as many other species of animal
+have been doomed in the past, unless he proves his fitness to
+survive not as an individual, but as a species.</p>
+
+<p>Now man is a gregarious animal; he lives in herds. The
+characteristic of the herd is that within it the law of survival of
+the fittest almost ceases to operate. The value of a herd is that
+its members protect each other instead of preying upon each other.
+Nor, in what we are pleased to call the animal kingdom, do herds of
+the same species prey upon each other. They rather unite for the
+protection of their weaker members.</p>
+
+<p>So far as I am informed, mankind is the only herd of which this is
+not true. Cattle and horses unite in protecting the young and feeble;
+sheep huddle together against cold and wolves; bees and ants work
+only for the welfare of the swarm, which is the welfare of all. This,
+we are told, is the reason these forms of life have survived. But
+ship officers beat sailors because sailors have no firearms and fear
+charges of mutiny. Policemen club prisoners who are poorly dressed.
+Employees make profits from the toil of children. Strong nations
+prey on weak peoples, and the white man kills the white man and the
+black and brown and yellow man in mine, plantation, and forest the
+world over.</p>
+
+<p>He defends this murder of his own kind by the pat phrase &ldquo;survival
+of the fittest.&rdquo; But man is not a solitary animal, he is a herd
+animal, and within the herd nature's definition of fitness does not
+apply. The herd is a refuge against the law of tooth and fang.
+Importing within the herd his own interpretation of that law, man is
+destroying the strength of his shelter. By so much as one man preys
+upon or debases another man, he weakens the strength of the man-herd.
+And for man it is the herd, not the individual, that must meet that
+stern law of &ldquo;the survival of the fittest&rdquo; on the vast impersonal
+arena of the universe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bully 'Ayes was the man to make the Kanakas work!&rdquo; said Lying Bill
+Pincher. &ldquo;I used to be on Penryn Island and that was 'is old 'ang-out.
+'Ayes was a pleasant man to meet. 'E was 'orspitable as a 'ungry
+shark to a swimming missionary. Bald he was as a bloomin' crab,
+stout and smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'E 'ad two white wives a-setting in his cabin on the schooner, and
+they called it the parlor. Smart wimmen they was, and saved 'is life
+for 'im more 'n once. 'E 'd get a couple of chiefs on board by
+deceiving 'em with rum, and hold 'em until 'is bloomin' schooner was
+chock-a-block with copra. The 'ole island would be working itself to
+death to free the chiefs. Then when 'e 'ad got the copra, 'e 'd
+steal a 'undred or two Kanakas and sell 'em in South America.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'E was smart, and yet 'e got 'is'n. 'Is mate seen him coming over
+the side with blood in his eye, and batted 'im on 'is conch as 'is
+leg swung over the schooner's bul'ark. 'Ayes dropped with 'is knife
+between 'is teeth and 'is pistols in both 'ands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'E'd murdered 'undreds of white and brown and black men, and 'e was
+smart, and 'e got away with it. But 'e made the mistake of not
+having made a friend of 'is right 'and man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The white man who danced in Oomoa Valley; a wild-boar hunt in the
+hills; the feast of the triumphant hunters and a dance in honor of
+Grelet.</i></p>
+
+<p>Grelet had gone in a whale-boat to Oia, a dozen miles away, to
+collect copra, and I was left with an empty day to fill as I chose.
+The house, the garden, and the unexplored recesses of Oomoa Valley
+were mine, with whatever they might afford of entertainment or
+adventure. Every new day, wherever spent, is an adventure, but when
+to the enigmatic morning is added the zest of a strange place, it
+must be a dull man who does not thrill to it.</p>
+
+<p>I began the day by bathing in the river with the year-old Tamaiti,
+Grelet's child. Her mother was Hinatiaiani, a laughing, beautiful
+girl of sixteen years, and the two were cared for by Pae, a woman of
+forty, ugly and childless. Hinatiaiani was her adopted daughter, and
+Pae had been sorely angered when Grelet, whose companion she had
+been for eighteen years, took the girl. But with the birth of Tamaiti,
+Pae became reconciled, and looked after the welfare of the infant
+more than the volatile young mother.</p>
+
+<p>Tamaiti had never had a garment upon her sturdy small body, and
+looked a plump cherub as she played about the veranda, crawling in
+the puddles when the rain drove across the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The infant has never been sick,&rdquo; Grelet had said. &ldquo;One afternoon I
+was starting for the river to bathe, when that girl was making
+herself a bed of cocoanut-leaves under the house. She said she
+expected the baby, as, when she climbed a cocoanut-tree a moment
+earlier, she had felt a movement. She would not lie in a bed, but,
+like her mother before her, must make her a nest of cocoanut-leaves.
+When I returned from my bath, Tamaiti was born. She was chopping
+wood next day&mdash;the mother, I mean.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though scarcely a twelve-month old, the baby swam like a frog in the
+clear water of the river, gurgling at intervals scraps of what must
+have been Marquesan baby-talk, unintelligible to me, but showing
+plainly her enjoyment. Something of European caution, however, still
+remained with me and, perhaps unnecessarily, I picked up the
+dripping little body and carried her up the garden path to the house
+when I returned for breakfast. Pae received her with no concern, and
+gave her a piece of cocoanut to suck. I saw the infant, clutching it
+in one hand, toddling and stumbling river-ward again when after
+breakfast I set out for a walk up Oomoa Valley.</p>
+
+<p>Oomoa was far wilder than Atuona, more lonely, with hundreds of
+vacant <i>paepaes</i>. Miles of land, once cultivated, had been taken
+again by the jungle, as estates lapsed to nature after thousands of
+years of man. Still, even far from the houses, delicate trees had
+preserved themselves in some mysterious way, and oranges and limes
+offered themselves to me in the thickets.</p>
+
+<p>The river that emptied into the bay below Grelet's plantation flowed
+down the valley from the heights, and beside it ran the trail, a
+road for half a mile, then a track growing fainter with every mile,
+hardly distinguishable from the tangle of trees and bushes on either
+side. Here and there I saw a native house built of bamboo and matting,
+very simple shelters with an open space for a doorway, but wholesome,
+clean, and, to me, beautiful. I met no one, and most of the huts
+were on the other side of the river, but from one nearer the track a
+voice called to me, &ldquo;<i>Kaoha! Manihii, a tata mai!</i> Greeting, stranger,
+come to us!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The hut, which, by measurement, was ten feet by six, held six women
+and girls, all lying at ease on piles of mats. It was a rendezvous
+of gossips, a place for siestas and scandal. One had seen and hailed
+me, and when I came to their <i>paepae</i>, they all filed out and
+surrounded me, gently and politely, but curiously. Obviously they
+had seen few whites.</p>
+
+<p>The six were from thirteen to twenty years of age, four of them
+strikingly beautiful, with the grace of wild animals and the bright,
+soft eyes of children. Smiling and eager to be better acquainted
+with me, they examined my puttees of spiral wool, my pongee shirt,
+and khaki riding-breeches, the heavy seams of which they felt and
+discussed. They discovered a tiny rip, and the eldest insisted that
+I take off the breeches while she sewed it.</p>
+
+<p>As this was my one chance to prevent the rip growing into a gulf
+that would ultimately swallow the trousers, I permitted the stitch
+in time, and having nothing in my pockets for reward, I danced a jig.
+I cannot dance a step or sing a note correctly, but in this
+archipelago I had won inter-island fame as a dancer of strange and
+amusing measures, and a singer of the queer songs of the whites.</p>
+
+<p>Recalling the cake-walks, sand-sifting, pigeon-winging, and
+Juba-patting of the south, the sailor's hornpipe, the sword-dance of
+the Scotch, and the metropolitan version of the tango, I did my best,
+while the thrilled air of Oomoa Valley echoed these words, yelled to
+my fullest lung capacity:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;There was an old soldier and he had a wooden leg,</span>
+<span>And he had no tobacco, so tobacco did he beg.</span>
+<span>Said the soldier to the sailor, &lsquo;Will you give me a chew?&rsquo;</span>
+<span>Said the sailor to the soldier, &lsquo;I'll be damned if I do!</span>
+<span>Keep your mind on your number and your finger on your rocks,</span>
+<span>And you'll always have tobacco in your old tobacco box.&rsquo;&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Dancing and singing thus on the flat stones of the <i>paepae</i> of the
+six Fatu-hiva ladies, I gave back a thousand-fold their aid to my
+disordered trousers. They laughed till they fell back on the rocks,
+they lifted the ends of their <i>pareus</i> to wipe their eyes, and they
+demanded an encore, which I obligingly gave them in a song I had
+kept in mind since boyhood. It was about a young man who took his
+girl to a fancy ball, and afterward to a restaurant, and though he
+had but fifty cents and she said she was not hungry, she ate the menu
+from raw oysters to pousse-café, and turned it over for more.</p>
+
+<p>It went with a Kerry jig that my grandfather used to do, and if
+grandfather, with his rare ability, ever drew more uproarious
+applause than I, it must have been a red-letter day for him, even in
+Ireland. My hearers screamed in an agony of delight, and others
+dwelling far away, or passing laden with breadfruit and bananas,
+gathered while I chortled and leaped, and made the mountain-side
+ring with Marquesan bravos.</p>
+
+<p>With difficulty I made my escape, but my success pursued me.
+&ldquo;<i>Menike haka!</i>&rdquo; came the cry from each house I passed, for the news
+had been called over the distance, and to the farthest reaches of
+the valley it was known that an American, the American who had come
+on the <i>Roberta</i>, with a box that wrote, was dancing along the route.</p>
+
+<p>As in the old days of war or other crisis, the cry had been raised,
+and was echoed from all directions, and from hut to cocoanut-tree to
+crag the call was heard, growing fainter and more feeble, dying
+gradually from point to point, echoing farther and yet farther in the
+distance. This was the ancient telegraph-system of the islanders, by
+which an item of information sped in a moment to the most remote
+edges of the valley. Unwittingly, in my gratitude, I had raised it,
+and now I pursued my way in the glare of a pitiless publicity.</p>
+
+<p>I was met almost immediately by a score of men and women who had
+left the gathering of fruit or the duties of the household to greet
+me. Fafo, the leader, besought me earnestly to accompany them to a
+neighboring <i>paepae</i> and dance for them.</p>
+
+<p>He had the finest eyes I have ever seen in a man's head, dark brown,
+almond-shaped, large and lustrous, wells of melancholy. There was
+something exquisite about the young man, his lemon-colored skin, his
+delicate hands and feet, his slender, though strong, body, and his
+regular, brilliant teeth. Some Spanish don had bred him, or some
+moody Italian with music in his soul, for he was a Latin in face and
+figure. His eyes had that wistfulness as they sought mine which the
+Tahitians have put well in one of their picture-words, <i>ano-ano'uri</i>,
+&ldquo;the yearning, sorrowful gaze of a dog watching his master at dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A belated shrinking from renown, however, made me reject his pleas,
+and perceiving a pool near at hand, I softened refusal by a
+suggestion that we bathe. The pool, I learned, was famous in the
+valley, for one could swim forty feet in it, and on the other side
+the hill rose straight, with banana-trees overhanging the water forty
+feet above. We climbed this rocky face and dived into the water
+again and again, rejoicing in its coolness and in that sheer pagan
+delight of the dive, when in the air man becomes all animal, freed
+from every restraint and denied every safeguard save the strength of
+his own muscle and nerve.</p>
+
+<p>We saw at last, on the edge of the bank, one of Grelet's dogs,
+whining for attention. He was badly wounded in two places, blood
+dripped on the rocks from open cuts three inches long, and one paw
+hung helpless, while with eager cries and beseeching looks he urged
+us to avenge him in his private feud with a boar. Assured of our
+interest, he stayed not to be comforted or cured, but hobbled
+eagerly up the trail, begging us with whines to accompany him.</p>
+
+<p>Five men and several other dogs followed the wounded hound, and I
+went with them. The Marquesans had war-clubs and long knives like
+undersized machetes. Every Islander carries such a knife for cutting
+underbrush or cocoanut-stems, and usually it is his only tool for
+building native houses, so that he becomes very expert with it, as
+the Filipino with his bolo or the Cuban with his machete.</p>
+
+<p>For several hours we climbed the slopes, until we came upon a narrow
+trail cut in the side of a cliff, a path perhaps two feet wide, with
+sheer wall of rock above and abrupt precipice below. On this the
+chief hunter stationed himself and two men while the others scouted
+below. This leader was a man of sixty, tattooed from toes to scalp
+on one side only, so that he was queerly parti-colored, and capping
+this odd figure, he wore a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles. He
+motioned to me to take my place in a niche of the cliff, where I
+could stand and sweep the trail with my eyes, secure from assault.
+He had given directions to the others and intended to provide for me
+a rare sight, and to gain for himself a trifle of the glory that had
+been his as a young man in wars against neighboring valleys.</p>
+
+<p>For an hour we waited and smoked, hearing from time to time the
+clamor of men and dogs in the thickets below. The common way of
+hunting boars, said the chief, was to chase them through the woods
+and kill them by throwing tomahawks at them. This method allows the
+hunter to have a tree always within a short run, and about these
+trees he dodges when pursued, or if too closely pressed, climbs one.
+It is dangerous sport, as only a cool and experienced man can drive
+a knife into a vital part of a boar in full career, and no wound in
+non-vital parts will cause the desperate beast even to falter.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the cries of the men and the barking of the dogs grew
+nearer, and suddenly, bursting from the bushes some distance down
+the trail, we saw ten bristling hogs. They had been driven upward
+until they reached the artificial shelf, and behind them hounds and
+hunters cut off all escape.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Apau! Aia oe a!</i>&rdquo; shouted the rear-guard as the boars took the
+trail. &ldquo;Lo! Prepare to strike!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The three slayers gripped their clubs and braced their feet. I was
+above the chief, who was the last of the trio. Where he planted his
+feet, the path was most narrow, so that two could not pass. His
+knife was in his <i>pareu</i>, which, to leave his legs unhampered, he had
+rolled and tucked in until it was no more than a G-string. His
+muscles were like the cordage of the <i>faufee</i>&mdash;the vine that
+strangles&mdash;and his chest like a great buckler, half blue and half
+copper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Peo! Pepo! Huepe! Huope!</i>&rdquo; yelled the scouts, in the &ldquo;tally-ho!&rdquo;
+cry of Marquesan, and the boars struck the trail with hatred hot in
+their eyes and with gnashing tusks.</p>
+
+<p>The three slayers were five hundred feet apart. The first struck at
+all ten, as singly they rushed past him. Three he stopped. The
+second man laid prostrate four. The three remaining were, naturally,
+the fittest. They were huge, hideous, snarling beasts, bared teeth
+gleaming in a slather of foam, eyes bloodshot and vicious. The old
+chief saw them coming; he saw, too, that I had shrunk to a plaster
+on the wall while he faced the danger like a warrior in the
+spear-test of their old warfare.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aia! Aia!</i>&rdquo; he said to encourage me. His club of ironwood, its
+edge sharp and toothed, he grasped with both hands; he widened his
+foothold and threw his body forward to withstand a shock. He
+calculated to an inch the arrival of the first boar, and swung his
+<i>u'u</i> on its head with precision. The boar crumpled up and fell
+down the hillside. The second he struck as unerringly, but the third
+he chose to kill with his knife.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr43"></a>
+<a href="images/img43.jpg"><img src="images/thumb43.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p><i>Feis</i>, or mountain bananas<br/>
+Man in <i>pareu</i>, native loin cloth</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr44"></a>
+<a href="images/img44.jpg"><img src="images/thumb44.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Where river and bay meet at Oomoa, Island of Fatu-hiva</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He laid down the <i>u'u</i> and drew the knife with one motion, and as
+the powerful brute rushed at him, stepped aside in the split second
+between his gauge of its position and its leap. His knife was thrust
+straight out. It met the boar with perfect and delicate accuracy.
+The beast fell, quivered a moment, and lay still.</p>
+
+<p>It was a perfection of butchery, for one slash of those tusks,
+ripping the chief's legs, and he would have been down, crashing over
+the cliff, and dead. I was almost in chants of admiration for his
+nerve and accuracy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, if this had been war, and these had been enemies!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The dead boars were slung on poles, but a half dozen had to be left
+on branches of trees for the morrow, and it was late in the day when
+we reached Grelet's house for the feast.</p>
+
+<p>Pae, the elder woman of the household, received us joyously. In the
+master's absence she had become a different being from the sulky,
+contrary one I had seen while he was at home. Usually she and
+Hinatiaiani, the mother of the baby, ate their food squatting beside
+the cook-house; they rarely came upon the veranda, never sat upon a
+chair, and never were asked to our table. Now they were in
+complete possession of the house and Pae was transformed into a
+jolly soul, her kinsfolk about her on the veranda and the bottles
+emptying fast. She celebrated our arrival with the boars by bringing
+out two quarts of <i>crème de menthe</i> and a bottle of absinthe, so
+that the mice with the big cat away played an uncorking air right
+merrily.</p>
+
+<p>All was now a bustle of preparation for the feast. While many
+prepared the earth-oven for the pig, the head cook made fire in
+their primitive way, using the fire-plough of <i>purau</i>-wood braced
+against a pillar of the veranda. Meantime the oven was dug, sides and
+bottom lined with stones, and sticks piled within it for the fire. A
+top layer of stones was placed on the flames and when it had grown
+red-hot, the pig was pulled and hauled over it until the bristles
+were removed. The carcass was then carried to the river, the
+intestines removed, and inside and outside thoroughly washed in a
+place where the current was strong.</p>
+
+<p>The oven was made ready for its reception by removing the upper
+layer of stones and the fire, and placing banana-leaves all about
+the bottom and sides, in which the pig, his own interior filled with
+hot stones wrapped in leaves, was placed, with native sweet-potatoes
+and yams beside him. More leaves covered all, and another layer of
+red hot stones. A surface of dirt sealed the oven.</p>
+
+<p>A young dog was also part of the fare, and was cooked in the same
+manner as the pig. The Marquesans are fond of dogs. This particular
+one had been brought to this valley from another and was not on
+friendly terms with any of his butchers. In fact, his death was due
+more to revenge than to hunger for his flesh. He had bitten the leg
+of a man who lived in the upper part of Oomoa, and when this man came
+limping to the banquet, he brought the biter as his contribution.</p>
+
+<p>Those who would turn up their noses at Towser must hear Captain Cook,
+who was himself slain and dismembered in Hawaii:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The flesh of the South Sea Dog is a meat not to be despised. It is
+next to our English Lamb.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Personally I am willing to let it be next to lamb at every meal, and
+I shall always take its neighbor, but it argues a narrow taste not
+to concede that the dishes of our foreign friends may have a relish
+all their own. Dog has been a Maori tidbit for thousands of years.
+It was introduced into New Zealand from these islands. The
+aborigines had a fierce, undomesticated dog, which they hunted for
+its flesh. It was a sort of fox, but disappeared before the
+Polynesians reached the islands.</p>
+
+<p>All Polynesians have liked dogs, liked them as pets, as they do
+to-day, and liked them as grub. If one asks how one can pet Fido
+Monday and eat him Tuesday, I will reply that we, the highest types
+of civilization, pet calves and lambs, chickens and rabbits, and find
+them not a whit the less toothsome. The Marquesan loves his pig as
+we love our dog, cuddles him, calls him fond names, believes that he
+goes to heaven,&mdash;and nevertheless roasts him for dinner.</p>
+
+<p>The yams, potatoes, breadfruit, and other accompaniments of the dog,
+pig, and chicken were all ready at six o'clock, when cries of
+delight summoned us idlers. The earth had been cleared from the oven,
+the leaves removed, and the pig was lifted into the air, cooked to a
+turn, succulent, steaming, delicious. The feast was spread in a
+clearing, so that the sun, sinking slowly in the west, might filter
+his rays through the lofty trees and leave us brightened by his
+presence, but cool in the shadows. For me a Roman couch of mats was
+spread, while the natives squatted in the comfort of men whose legs
+are natural.</p>
+
+<p>The women waited upon us, passing all the food in leaves, in cleanly
+fashion. Pae herself, though hostess, could not eat till all the men
+were satisfied, for the <i>tapu</i> still holds, though without authority.
+Knives nor forks hindered our free onslaught upon the edibles, and
+there were cocoanut-shells beside each of us for washing our hands
+between courses, a usual custom.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piahi</i>, the native chestnuts shelled and cooked in cocoanut-milk,
+were an appetizer, followed by small fish, which we ate raw after
+soaking them in lime juice. There is no dish that the white man so
+soon learns to crave and so long remembers when departed. Some of
+the guests did not like the sauce, but took their small fish by the
+tail, dripping with salt water, and ate it as one might eat celery,
+bones, and all.</p>
+
+<p>With the main course were served dried squid and porpoise, and fresh
+flying-fish and bonito and shrimp. The feast was complete with
+mangoes, oranges, and pineapples, also bananas ripened in the
+expeditious way of the Marquesas. They bury them in a deep hole
+lined with cracked candlenuts and grass and cover all with earth. In
+several days&mdash;and they know the right time to an hour&mdash;the bananas
+are dug up, yellow and sweet.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr45"></a>
+<a href="images/img45.jpg"><img src="images/thumb45.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Sacred banyan tree at Oomoa</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr46"></a>
+<a href="images/img46.jpg"><img src="images/thumb46.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Elephantiasis of the legs</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Pae furnished a limited quantity of rum for the fete, and a
+cocoanut-shell filled with <i>namu</i> was passed about. Every one was
+already enthusiastic, and after several drinks of the powerful
+sugar-distillation pipes were lit and palaver began. I had to tell
+stories of my strange country, of the things called cities, large
+villages without a river through them, so big that they held <i>tini
+tini tini tini mano mano mano mano</i> people, with single houses in
+which more people worked than there were in all the islands. Such a
+house might be higher than three or four cocoanut trees stood one on
+the other, and no one walked up-stairs, but rode in boxes lifted by
+ropes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How many men to a rope?&rdquo; asked Pae.</p>
+
+<p>The old men told me about their battles, much as at a reunion of the
+Grand Army of the Republic the veterans fight again the Civil war.
+One man, whose tattooing striped his body like the blue bands of a
+convict's suit, said that it was the custom on Fatu-hiva for the
+leader or chief on each side to challenge the enemy champion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our army stood thirty or forty feet away from the other army,&rdquo; said
+he, &ldquo;and our chief stood still while the other threw his spear. If
+it struck our chief, at once the warriors rushed into battle; if it
+missed, our chief had the right to go close to the other and thrust
+a spear through his heart. The other stood firm and proud. He smiled
+with scorn. He looked on the spear when it was raised, and he did
+not tremble. But sometimes he was saved by his courage, for our
+chief after looking at him with terrible eyes, said, &lsquo;O man of heart,
+go your way, and never dare again to fight such a great warrior as I!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That ended the war. The other chief was ashamed, and led his men
+down to their own valley. But if our chief had killed him, then
+there was war; at once we struck with the <i>u'u</i> and ran forward with
+our spears. These battles gave many names to children, names
+remembering the death or wounding of the glorious deeds of the
+warriors. To await calmly the spear of the other chief, the head
+raised, the eyes never winking, to look at the spear as at a welcome
+gift&mdash;that was what our chiefs must do. Death was not so terrible,
+but to leave one's body in the hands of the foe, to be eaten, to know
+that one's skull would be hung in a tree, and one's bones made into
+tattoo needles or fish-hooks&mdash;! <i>Toomanu!</i></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are not the men we were. We do not eat the &lsquo;Long Pig&rsquo; any more,
+but we have not the courage, the skill, or the strength. When the
+spears were thrown, and each man had but one, then the fight was
+with the <i>u'u</i>, hand to hand and eye to eye. That was a fight of men!
+The gun is the weapon of cowards. It is the gun that fights, not the
+man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our last fight we brought back four bodies. Meat spoils quickly. We
+had our feast right here where we sit now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Excited barking of the dogs announced the arrival of Grelet with
+several men. They had rowed all the way to Oia and had sailed back,
+arriving by chance in time to share the abundance of our feast.
+After the twelve-mile pull in the blazing sun and the toilsome
+journey back by night this feast was their reward, and all their pay.</p>
+
+<p>Pae, reduced once more to sullen servitude, poured the rum, generous
+portions of it in cocoanut-shells, which the newcomers emptied as
+they ate, hastening soon to join the other guests on the broad
+veranda, where late at night a chant began.</p>
+
+<p>Half a dozen men, tattooed from toes to waist and some to the roots
+of their hair, sat on a mat on the floor, all naked except for their
+<i>pareus</i>, the red and yellow of which shone in the light of the
+oil-lamps in brightening contrast to brown skins and dark blue ink.
+One was far gone with <i>fefe</i>, his legs almost as large as those of
+an elephant. He was a grotesque in hideous green. The blue of the
+candlenut-ink, in bizzare designs upon body and legs, had turned a
+scaly greenish hue from age and <i>kava</i> excesses. Revealed in the
+yellow light, he was like a ghastly bronze monstrosity that had known
+the weathering of a century.</p>
+
+<p>He was the leader of the chant and, like all the others, had drunk
+plenty of Grelet's rum. The pipe was passing, and Grelet took his
+pull at it in the circle. The chant was of the adventures of the day.
+The hunters and specially Namu Ou Mio, the slayer of the three boars,
+told of the deed of prowess on the cliff-side, while the others sang
+of their journey and the sea. Squatting on the mat, they bent and
+swayed in pantomime, telling the tales, lifting their voices in
+praises of their own deeds and of the virtues of Grelet.</p>
+
+<p>That thrifty Swiss, in red breech-clout and spectacles, the
+lamplight shining on his bald head, sat in the midst of them,
+familiar by a score of years with their chants. Pae filled the pipe
+and the bowls and joined in the chorus, while the Paumotan boys, in
+a shadowy recess, sipped their rum and rolled their eyes in
+astonished appreciation of the first joviality of their lives. When
+the leader began the ancient cannibal chant, the song of war and of
+feasting at the High Place, the tattooed men forgot even the rum.
+The nights of riot after return from the battle, the fighting
+qualities of their fathers, the cheer of the fires, the heat of the
+ovens, and the baking of the &ldquo;Long Pig,&rdquo; and the hours when the most
+beautiful girls danced naked to win the acclaim of the multitude and
+to honor their parents; all these they celebrated. The leader gave
+the first line in a dramatic tone, and the others chanted the chorus.
+Most of the verses they knew by rote, but there were improvisations
+that brought applause from all.</p>
+
+<p>At midnight the man with the elephantiasis removed his <i>pareu</i> to
+free his enormous legs for dancing, and he and the others, their
+hands joined, moved ponderously in a tripping circle before the
+couch on which I lay. The chant was now a recital of my merits, the
+chief of which was that I was a friend of Grelet, that mighty man
+wiser than Iholomoni (Solomon), with more wives than that great king,
+and stronger heart to chase the wild bull. He steers a whale-boat
+with a finger, but no wave can tear the helm from his grasp. Long
+has he been in Oomoa, just and brave and generous has he been, and
+his rum is the best that is made in the far island of Tahiti.</p>
+
+<p>So passed the night and the rum, in a pandemonium of voices,
+gyrating tattooed bodies, flashes of red and yellow and blue <i>pareus</i>,
+rolling eyes, curls of smoke drifting under the gently moving canvas
+ceiling, while from the garden came the scent of innumerable dewy
+flowers; and at intervals in the chanting I heard from the darkness
+of the bay the sound of a conch-shell blown on some wayfaring boat.</p>
+
+<p>I dozed, and wakened to see Grelet asleep. Pae was still filling the
+emptied cocoanut-shells, and the swollen green man postured before
+me like some horrid figment of a dream. I roused myself again. Pae
+had locked up the song-maker, and all the tattooed men slumbered
+where they sat, the Paumotan boys with sunbonnets tied about their
+heads lay in their corner, dreaming, perhaps, of their loved home on
+Pukaruha. I woke again to find the garden green and still in the
+gray morning, and the veranda vacant.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesans were all in the river, lying down among the boulders
+to cool their aching heads. The <i>fefe</i> sufferer stood like a
+slime-covered rock in the stream. His swollen legs hurt him
+dreadfully. Rum is not good for <i>fefe</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Guddammee!&rdquo; he said to me in his one attempt at our cultured
+language, and put his body deep in a pool.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A visit to Hanavave; Père Olivier at home; the story of the last
+battle between Hanahouua and Oi, told by the sole survivor; the
+making of <i>tapa</i> cloth, and the ancient garments of the Marquesans.</i></p>
+
+<p>Grelet said that the conch I had heard at night sounding off Oomoa
+must have been in a canoe or whale-boat bound for Hanavave, a valley
+a dozen miles away over the mountains, but only an hour or so by sea.
+It might have brought a message of interest, or perhaps would be a
+conveyance to my own valley, so in mid-forenoon we launched Grelet's
+whale-boat for a journey to Hanavave.</p>
+
+<p>Eight men carried the large boat from its shelter to the water,
+slung on two short thick poles by loops of rope through holes in
+prow and stern. It was as graceful as a swan, floating in the edge
+of the breakers. Driving it through the surf was cautious, skilful
+work, at which Grelet was a master. Haupupuu, who built the boat, a
+young man with the features of Bonaparte and a <i>blase</i> expression,
+was at the bow, and three other Marquesans, with the two Paumotan
+boys, handled the oars. There was no wind and they rowed all the way,
+spurting often for love of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>We skirted a coast of almost vertical cliffs crowned by cocoas, the
+faces of the rock black or covered above the waterline with vines
+and plants, green and luxuriant. Long stretches of white curtains
+and huge pictures in curious outlines were painted on the sable
+cliffs by encrusted salt. The sea surged in leaping fountains
+through a thousand blow-holes carved from the black basalt, and the
+ceaseless wash of the waves had cut the base of the precipices into
+<i>paniho</i>, or teeth, as the Marquesans say.</p>
+
+<p>There were half a dozen indentations in the bleak and rugged coast,
+each a little valley guarded by cliffs on both sides, the natural
+obstacle to neighborliness that made enemies of the clans.
+Inhabitants of plains are usually friendly. Mountains make feuds.</p>
+
+<p>We passed the valley of Hana Ui, inhabited when Grelet came, and
+full of rich cotton-fields, now a waste with never a soul in it. We
+passed Eue, Utea, Tetio, Nanifapoto, Hana Puaea and Mata Utuoa, all
+empty of the living; graveyards and deserted <i>paepaes</i>. Thousands
+made merry in them when the missionaries first recorded their numbers.
+Death hung like a cloud over the desolate wilderness of these valleys,
+over the stern and gloomy cliffs, black and forbidding, carved into
+monstrous shapes and rimmed with the fantastic patterns made by the
+unresting sea.</p>
+
+<p>Near Matu Utuoa was a great natural bridge, under which the ocean
+rushed in swirling currents, foam, and spray. Turning a shoulder of
+the cliff, we entered the Bay of Virgins and were confronted with
+the titanic architecture of Hanavave, Alps in ruins, once coral
+reefs and now thrust up ten thousand feet above the sea. Fantastic
+headlands, massive towers, obelisks, pyramids, and needles were an
+extravaganza in rock, monstrous and portentous. Towering structures
+hewn by water and wind from the basalt mass of the island rose like
+colossi along the entrance to the bay; beyond, a glimpse of great
+black battlements framed a huge crater.</p>
+
+<p>A dangerous bay in the lee wind with a bad holding-ground. We
+manoeuvered for ten minutes to land, but the shelving beach of black
+stone with no rim of sand proved a puzzle even to Grelet. We reached
+the stones again and again, only to be torn away by the racing tide.
+At last we all jumped into the surf and swam ashore, except one man
+who anchored the whale-boat before following us.</p>
+
+<p>The canoe that had sounded the conch off Oomoa was lying on the shale,
+and those who had come in it were on the stones cooking breadfruit.
+The village, half a dozen rude straw shacks, stretched along a rocky
+stream. Beyond it, in a few acres enclosed by a fence, were a tiny
+church, two wretched wooden cabins, a tumbling kiosk, five or six
+old men and women squatting on the ground amid a flock of dogs and
+cats. This was the Catholic mission, tumbledown and decayed,
+unpainted for years, overgrown by weeds, marshy and muddy, passing
+to oblivion like the race to which it ministered.</p>
+
+<p>Grelet and I found Père Olivier sweeping out the church, cheerful,
+humming a cradle-song of the French peasants. He was glad to see us,
+though my companion was avowedly a pagan. Dwelling alone here with
+his dying charges, the good priest could not but feel a common bond
+with any white man, whoever he might be.</p>
+
+<p>The kiosk, to which he took us, proved to be Père Olivier's
+eating-place, dingy, tottering, and poverty-stricken, furnished with
+a few cracked and broken dishes and rusty knives and forks, the
+equipment of a miner or sheep-herder. Père Olivier apologized for the
+meager fare, but we did well enough, with soup and a tin of boiled
+beef, breadfruit, and <i>feis</i>. The soup was of a red vegetable, not
+appetizing, and I could not make out the native name for it, <i>hue
+arahi</i>, until Grelet cried, &ldquo;Ah, <i>j'ai trouvé le mot anglais!</i>
+Ponkeen, ponkeen!&rdquo; It was a red pumpkin.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr47"></a>
+<a href="images/img47.jpg"><img src="images/thumb47.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Removing the pig cooked in the <i>umu</i>, or native oven</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr48"></a>
+<a href="images/img48.jpg"><img src="images/thumb48.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The <i>Koina Kai</i> or feast in Oomoa</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>La soupe maigre de missionaire</i>,&rdquo; murmured the priest.</p>
+
+<p>I led the talk to the work of the mission.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have been here thirty-five years,&rdquo; said Père Olivier, &ldquo;and I,
+thirty. Our order first tried to establish a church at Oomoa, but
+failed. You have seen there a stone foundation that supports the
+wild vanilla vines? Frère Fesal built that, with a Raratonga
+islander who was a good mason. The two cut the stones and shaped them.
+The valley of Oomoa was drunk. Rum was everywhere, the palm <i>namu</i>
+was being made all the time, and few people were ever sober. There
+was a Hawaiian Protestant missionary there, and he was not good
+friends with Frère Fesal. There was no French authority at Oomoa,
+and the strongest man was the law. The whalers were worse than the
+natives, and hated the missionaries. One day when the valley was
+crazed, a native killed the Raratonga man. You will find the murderer
+living on Tahuata now. Frère Fesal buried his assistant, and fled
+here.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That date was about the last Hanavave suffered from cannibalism and
+extreme sorcery. The <i>taua</i>, the pagan priest, was still powerful,
+however, and his gods demanded victims. The men here conspired with
+the men of Hanahouua to descend on Oi, a little village by the sea
+between here and Oomoa. They had guns of a sort, for the whalers had
+brought old and rusty guns to trade with the Marquesans for wood,
+fruit, and fish. Frère Fesal learned of the conspiracy, but the men
+were drinking rum, and he was helpless. The warriors went stealthily
+over the mountains and at night lowered themselves from the cliffs
+with ropes made of the <i>fau</i>. There were only thirty people left in
+Oi, and the enemy came upon them in the dark like the wolf. Only one
+man escaped&mdash; There he is now, entering the mission. We will ask him
+to tell the story.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stood in the rickety doorway and called, &ldquo;Tutaiei, come here!&rdquo; An
+old and withered man approached, one-eyed, the wrinkles of his face
+and body abscuring the blue patterns of tattooing, a shrunken, but
+hideous, scar making a hairless patch on one side of his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was on the beach pulling up my canoe and taking out the fish I
+had speared,&rdquo; said this wreck of a man. &ldquo;Half the night was spent,
+and every one was asleep except me. We were a little company, for
+they had killed and eaten most of us, and others had died of the
+white man's curse. In the night I heard the cries of the Hanavave
+and Hanahouua men who had lowered themselves down the precipice and
+were using their war-clubs on the sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was one man. I could do nothing but die, and I was full of life.
+In the darkness I smashed with a rock all the canoes on the beach
+save mine. In my ears were the groans of the dying, and the war-cries.
+I saw the torches coming. I put the fish back in my canoe, and
+pushed out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They were but a moment late, for I have a hole in my head into
+which they shot a nail, and I have this crack in my head upon which
+they flung a stone. They could not follow me, for there were no
+canoes left. I paddled to Oomoa after a day, during which I did what
+I have no memory of.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They had guns?&rdquo; I asked him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They had a few guns, but they used in them nails or stones, having
+no balls of metal. Their slings were worse. I could sling a stone as
+big as a mango and kill a man, striking him fair on the head, at the
+distance those guns would shoot. We made our slings of the bark of
+the cocoanut-tree, and the stones, polished by rubbing against each
+other, we carried in a net about the waist.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if that stone broke your head, why did you not die?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A <i>tatihi</i> fixed my head. The nail in my leg he took out with a
+loop of hair, and cured the wound.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you not lie in wait for those murderers?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tutaiei hemmed and cast down his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The French came then with soldiers and made it so that if I killed
+any one, they killed me; the law, they call it. They did nothing to
+those warriors because the deed was done before the French came. I
+waited and thought. I bought a gun from a whaler. But the time never
+came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All my people had died at their hands. Six heads they carried back
+to feast on the brains. They ate the brains of my wife. I kept the
+names of those that I should kill. There was Kiihakia, who slew
+Moariniu, the blind man; Nakahania, who killed Hakaie, husband of
+Tepeiu; Niana, who cut off the head of Tahukea, who was their
+daughter and my woman; Veatetau should die for Tahiahokaani, who was
+young and beautiful, who was the sister of my woman. I waited too
+long, for time took them all, and I alone survive of the people of Oi,
+or of those who killed them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The vendetta between valleys&mdash;called <i>umuhuke</i>, or the Vengeance of
+the Oven,&mdash;thus wiped out the people of Oi,&rdquo; commented Père Olivier.
+&ldquo;The skulls were kept in banian-trees, or in the houses. Frère Fesal
+started the mission here and built that little church. There were
+plenty of people to work among. But now, after thirty years I have
+been here, they are nearly finished. They have no courage to go on,
+that is all. <i>C'est un pays sans l'avenir.</i> The family of the dying
+never weep. They gather to eat the feast of the dead, and the crying
+is a rite, no more. These people are tired of life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was Stevenson who though that &ldquo;the ending of the most healthful,
+if not the most humane, of field sports&mdash;hedge warfare&mdash;&rdquo; had much
+to do with depopulation. Either horn of the dilemma is dangerous to
+touch. It is unthinkable, perhaps, that white conquerors should have
+allowed the Marquesans to follow their own customs of warfare. But
+changes in the customs of every race must come from within that race
+or they will destroy it. The essence of life is freedom.</p>
+
+<p>Any one who has read their past and knows them now must admit that
+the Marquesans have not been improved in morality by their contact
+with the whites. Alien customs have been forced upon them. And they
+are dying for lack of expression, nationally and individually.
+Disease, of course, is the weapon that kills them, but it finds its
+victims unguarded by hope or desire to live, willing to meet death
+half way, the grave a haven.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr49"></a>
+<a href="images/img49.jpg"><img src="images/thumb49.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Beach at Oomoa</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr50"></a>
+<a href="images/img50.jpg"><img src="images/thumb50.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Putting the canoe in the water</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the old days this island of Fatu-hiva was the art center of the
+Marquesas. The fame of its tattooers, carvers in wood and stone,
+makers of canoes, paddles, and war-clubs, had resounded through the
+archipelago for centuries. Now it is one of the few places where
+even a feeble survival of those industries give the newcomers a
+glimpse of their methods and ideals now sinking, like their
+originators, in the mire of wretchedness.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the mission gates, in the edge of the jungle, Père Olivier
+and I came upon two old women making <i>tapa</i> cloth. Shrunken with age,
+toothless, decrepit, their only covering the ragged and faded
+<i>pareus</i> that spoke of poverty, they sat in the shade of a
+banian-tree, beating the fibrous inner bark of the breadfruit-tree.
+Over the hollow log that resounded with the blows of their wooden
+mallets the cloth moved slowly, doubling on the ground into a heap
+of silken texture, firm, thin, and soft.</p>
+
+<p>This paper-cloth was once made throughout all the South Sea Islands.
+Breadfruit, banian, mulberry, and other barks furnished the fiber.
+The outer rough bark was scraped off with a shell, and the inner
+rind slightly beaten and allowed to ferment. It was then beaten over
+a tree-trunk with mallets of iron-wood about eighteen inches long,
+grooved coarsely on one side and more finely on the other. The
+fibers were so closely interwoven by this beating that in the
+finished cloth one could not guess the process of making. When
+finished, the fabric was bleached in the sun to a dazzling white,
+and from it the Marquesans of old wrought wondrous garments.</p>
+
+<p>For their caps they made remarkably fine textures, open-meshed,
+filmy as gauze, which confined their abundant black hair, and to
+which were added flowers, either natural or beautifully preserved in
+wax. Their principal garment, the <i>cahu</i>, was a long and flowing
+piece of the paper-cloth, of firmer texture, dyed in brilliant colors,
+or of white adorned with tasteful patterns. This hung from the
+shoulders, where it was knotted on one shoulder, leaving one arm and
+part of the breast exposed. Much individual taste was expressed in
+the wearing of this garment; sometimes the knot was on one shoulder,
+sometimes on the other, or it might be brought low on the chest,
+leaving the shoulders and arms bare, or thrown behind to expose the
+charms of a well-formed back or a slender waist. Beneath it they
+wore a <i>pareu</i>, which passed twice around the waist and hung to the
+calves of the legs.</p>
+
+<p>Clean and neat as these garments always were, shining in the sun,
+leaving the body free to know the joys of sun and air and swift,
+easy motion, it would be difficult to imagine a more graceful,
+beautiful, modest, and comfortable manner of dressing.</p>
+
+<p>For dyeing these garments in all the hues that fancy dictated, the
+women used the juices of herb and tree. Candlenut-bark gave a rich
+chocolate hue; scarlet was obtained from the <i>mati</i>-berries mixed
+with the leaves of the <i>tou</i>. Yellow came from the inner bark of the
+root of the <i>morinda citrifolia</i>. Hibiscus flowers or delicate ferns
+were dipped in these colors and impressed on the <i>tapas</i> in elegant
+designs.</p>
+
+<p>The garments were virtually indestructible. Did a dress need
+repairing, the edges of the rent were moistened and beaten together,
+or a handful of fiber was beaten in as a patch. Often for fishermen
+the <i>tapas</i> were made water-proof by added thicknesses and the
+employment of gums, and waterproof cloth for wrappings was made
+thick and impervious to rain as the oilcloth it resembled.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly one of these garments survives in the Marquesas to-day. They
+have been driven out by the gaudy prints of Germany and England
+brought by the traders, and by the ideas of dress which the
+missionaries imported together with the barrels of hideous
+night-gown garments contributed by worthy ladies of American villages.</p>
+
+<p>The disappearance of these native garments brought two things,
+idleness and the rapid spread of tuberculosis. The <i>tapa</i> cloth
+could not be worn in the water or the rain, as it disintegrated.
+Marquesans therefore left their robes in the house when they went
+abroad in stormy weather or bathed in the sea. But in their new
+calicos and ginghams they walked in the rain, bathed in the rivers,
+and returned to sleep huddled in the wet folds, ignorant of the
+danger.</p>
+
+<p>As the <i>tapa</i> disappeared, so did the beautiful carvings of canoes
+and paddles and clubs, superseded by the cheaper, machine-made
+articles of the whites. Little was left to occupy the hands or minds
+of the islanders, who, their old merrymakings stopped, their wars
+forbidden, their industry taken from them, could only sit on their
+<i>paepaes</i> yawning like children in jail and waiting for the death
+that soon came.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesans never made a pot. They had clay in their soil, as
+Gauguin proved by using it for his modeling, but they had no need of
+pottery, using exclusively the gourds from the vines, wooden vessels
+hollowed out, and temporary cups of leaves.</p>
+
+<p>This absence of pottery is another proof of the lengthy isolation of
+the islands. The Tongans had earthen ware which they learned to
+make from the Fijians, but the Polynesians had left the mainland
+before the beginning of this art. Thus they remained a people who
+were, despite their startling advances in many lines, the least
+encumbered by useful inventions of any race in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Until hardly more than a hundred years ago the natives were like our
+forefathers who lived millenniums ago in Europe. But being in a
+gentler climate, they were gentler, happier, merrier, and far cleaner.
+One can hardly dwell in a spirit of filial devotion upon the relation
+of our forefathers to soap and water, but these Marquesans bathed
+several times daily in dulcet streams and found soap and emollients
+to hand.</p>
+
+<p>It was curious to me to reflect, while Père Olivier and I stood
+watching the two aged crones beating out the <i>tapa</i> cloth, upon what
+slender chance hung the difference between us. Far in the remote
+mists of time, when a tribe set out upon its wanderings from the
+home land, one man, perhaps, hesitated, dimly felt the dangers and
+uncertainties before it, weighed the advantages of remaining behind,
+and did not go. Had he gone, I or any one of Caucasian blood in the
+world to-day, might have been a Marquesan.</p>
+
+<p>It would be interesting, I thought, to consider what the hundred
+thousand years that have passed since that day have given us of joy,
+of wealth of mind and soul and body, of real value in customs and
+manners and attitude toward life, compared to what would have been
+our portion in the islands of the South Seas before his white cousin
+fell upon the Marquesan.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Fishing in Hanavave; a deep-sea battle with a shark; Red Chicken
+shows how to tie ropes to shark's tails; night-fishing for dolphins,
+and the monster sword-fish that overturned the canoe; the native
+doctor dresses Red Chicken's wounds and discourses on medicine.</i></p>
+
+<p>Grelet returned to Oomoa in the whale-boat, but I remained in
+Hanavave for the fishing. My presence had stimulated the waning
+interest of the few remaining Marquesans, and the handful of young
+men and women went with me often to the sea outside the Bay of
+Virgins, where we lay in the blazing sunshine having great sport
+with spear or hook and line.</p>
+
+<p>We speared a dozen kinds of fish, specially the cuttlefish and
+sunfish, the latter more for fun and practice than food. They are
+huge masses, these pig-like, tailless clowns among the graceful
+families of the ocean, with their small mouths and clumsy-looking
+bodies, but they made a fine target at which to launch harpoon or
+spear from the dancing bow of a canoe. Keeping one's balance is the
+finest art of the Marquesan fisherman, and he will stand firm while
+the boat rises and falls, rolls and pitches, his body swaying and
+balancing with the nice adjustment that is second nature to him. It
+is an art that should be learned in childhood. Many were the
+splashes into the salt sea that fell to my lot as I practised it,
+one moment standing alert with poised spear in the sunlight, the
+next overwhelmed with the green water, and striking out on the
+surface again amid the joyous, unridiculing laughter of my merry
+companions.</p>
+
+<p>Wearying of the spear, we trolled for swordfish with hook and line,
+or used the baitless hook to entice the sportful albicore, or dolphin,
+whose curving black bodies splashed the sea about us. A piece of
+mother-of-pearl about six inches long and three-quarters of an inch
+wide was the lure for him. Carefully cut and polished to resemble
+the body of a fish, there was attached to it on the concave side a
+barb of shell or bone about an inch or an inch and a half in length,
+fastened by <i>faufee</i> fiber, with a few hog's bristles inserted. The
+line was drove through the hole where the barb was fastened and,
+being braided along the inner side of the pearl shank, was tied
+again at the top, forming a chord to the arch. Thus when the
+beguiled dolphin took the hook and strained the line, he secured
+himself more firmly on the barb.</p>
+
+<p>This is the best fish-hook, as it is perhaps the oldest, ever
+invented, and I have found it in many parts of the South Seas, but
+never more artfully made than here on Hanavave. It needs no bait,
+and is a fascinating sight for the big fish, who hardly ever
+discover the fraud until too late.</p>
+
+<p>The line was attached to a bamboo cane about fifteen feet long, and
+standing in the stern of the canoe, I handled this rod, allowing the
+hook to touch the water, but not to sink. Behind me my companions,
+in their red and yellow <i>pareus</i>, pushed the boat through the water
+with gentle strokes of their oars. When I saw a fish approaching,
+they became active, the canoe raced across the sparkling sea, and
+the hook, as it skimmed along the surface, looked for all the world
+like a flying fish, the bristles simulating the tail. Soon the
+hastening dolphin fell upon it, and then became the tug-of-war,
+bamboo pole straining and bending, the line now taut, now relaxing,
+as the fish lunged, and the paddlers watching with cries of
+excitement until he was hauled over the side, wet and flopping, a
+feast for half a dozen.</p>
+
+<p>One never-to-be-forgotten afternoon we ran unexpectedly upon a whole
+school of dolphins a few miles outside the bay, and before the sun
+sank I had brought from the sea twenty-six large fish. Some of these
+were magnificent food-fish, weighing 150 to 200 pounds. We had to
+send for two canoes to help bring in this miraculous draught, and
+all the population of the valley rejoiced in the supply of fresh and
+appetizing food.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesan methods of fishing are not so varied to-day as when
+their valleys were filled with a happy people delighting in all
+forms of exercise and prowess and needing the fish to supplement a
+scanty diet. For many weeks before I came, they said, no man had gone
+fishing. There were so few natives that the trees supplied them all
+with enough to eat, and the melancholy Marquesan preferred to sit
+and meditate upon his <i>paepae</i> rather than to fish, except when
+appetite demanded it. There is a Polynesian word that means
+&ldquo;hungry for fish,&rdquo; and to-day it is only when this word rises to
+their tongues or thoughts that they go eagerly to the sea or to the
+tooth-like base of the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>Often we took large quantities of fish among these caves and rocks
+by capturing them in bags, using a wooden fan as a weapon. The sport
+called for a cool head, marvelous lungs, and skill. It was extremely
+dangerous, as the sharks were numerous where fish were plentiful,
+and the angler must needs be under the water, in the shark's own
+domain.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr51"></a>
+<a href="images/img51.jpg"><img src="images/thumb51.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Pascual, the giant Paumotan pilot and his friends</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr52"></a>
+<a href="images/img52.jpg"><img src="images/thumb52.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A pearl diver's sweetheart</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The best hand and head for this sport in all Hanavave was a girl,
+Kikaaki, a name which means Miss Impossibility. She was not handsome,
+save with the beauty of youth and abounding health, but her wide
+mouth and bright eyes were intelligent and laughter-loving.</p>
+
+<p>Starting early in the morning, we would go to the edge of the bay,
+where the coral rises from the ocean floor in fantastic shapes and
+builds strange grottoes and cells at the feet of the basalt rocks.
+While I held the canoe, Miss Impossibility would remove her shapeless
+calico wrapper, and attired only in scarlet <i>pareu</i>, her hair piled
+high on her head and tied with the white filet of the cocoanut-palm,
+she would go overboard in one curving dive, a dozen feet or more
+beneath the sea.</p>
+
+<p>When the water was quiet and shadowed by the cliffs, I could see her
+through its green translucence, swimming to the coral lairs of the
+fish that gleamed in the reflected, penetrating sunlight. Walking on
+the sandy bottom, a hand net of straw in one hand, and a stick
+shaped like a fan in the other, she would cover a crevice with the
+net and with the fan urge the fish into it.</p>
+
+<p>Foolish as was their conduct, the fish appeared to be deceived by
+the lure, or made helpless by fear, for they streamed into the
+receptacle as Miss Impossibility beat the water or the coral. She
+would have seemed to me well named had I never seen her at the sport.</p>
+
+<p>She would usually stay beneath the water a couple of minutes, rising
+with her catch to rest for a moment or two with her hand on the edge
+of the boat, breathing deeply, before she went down again. Losing
+sight of her among the under-water caves one day, I waited for what
+seemed an eternity. I cannot say how long she was gone, for as the
+time lengthened seconds became minutes and hours, while I was torn
+between diving after her and remaining ready for emergency in the
+boat. When at last she came to the surface, she was nearly dead with
+exhaustion, and I had to lift her into the canoe. She said her hair
+had been caught in the branching coral, and that she had been barely
+able to wrench it free before her strength was gone.</p>
+
+<p>I went down with her several times, but could not master the art of
+entrapping the fish, and was overcome with fear when I had entered
+one of the dark caves and heard a terrible splashing nearby, as if a
+shark had struck the coral in attempting to enter my hazardous refuge.</p>
+
+<p>Even Miss Impossibility had not the courage to face a shark; yet
+every time she dived she risked meeting one. Red Chicken had killed
+one at this very spot a few weeks earlier. The danger even to a man
+armed with a knife was that the shark would obstruct from a cave, or
+come upon him suddenly from behind.</p>
+
+<p>Often we had with us in the fishing a Paumotan, Pascual, the pilot
+of the ship <i>Zelee</i>, who was in Hanavave visiting a relative. He was
+the very highest physical and mental type of the Paumotan, a
+honey-comb of good-nature, a well of laughter, and a seaman beyond
+compare. To be a pilot in the Isles of the Labyrinth demands many
+strong qualities, but to be the pilot of the only warship in this
+sea was the very summit of pilotry. He had an accurate knowledge of
+forty harbors and anchorages, and spoke English fluently, French,
+Paumotan, Tahitian, Marquesan, and other Polynesian tongues. From
+boyhood until he took up pilotage he was a diver in the lagoons for
+shell and in harbors for the repair of ships.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have killed many sharks,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and have all but fed them
+more than once. I had gone one morning a hundred feet. The water is
+always colder below the surface, and I shivered as I pulled at a
+pair of big shells under a ledge. It was dark in the cavern, and I
+was both busy and cold, so that as I stooped I did not see a shark
+that came from behind, until he plumped into my spine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I turned as he made his reverse to bite me, and passed under him,
+out to better light. I knew I had but a second or two to fight. I
+seized his tail quickly, and as he swept around to free himself I
+had time to draw the knife from my <i>pareu</i> and stab him. He passed
+over me again, and this time his teeth entered my shoulder, here&mdash;&rdquo;
+He opened his shirt and showed me a long, livid scar, serrated, the
+hall-mark of a fighter of <i>mako</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But by fortune&mdash;you may be sure I called on God&mdash;I got my knife
+home again, and sprang up for the air, feeling him in the water
+behind me. Twice I drove the blade into him on the way, for he would
+not let me go. My friend in the canoe, who saw the struggle, jumped
+down to my aid, and being fresh from the air, he cut that devil to
+pieces. I was not too strong when I reached the outrigger and hung
+my weight upon it. We ate the liver of that <i>mako</i>, and damned him
+as we ate. I had fought him from the ledge upward at least eighty
+feet of the hundred.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aue!</i>&rdquo; said Red Chicken, hearing me exclaim at the tale. &ldquo;You have
+never seen a man fight the <i>mako</i>? <i>Epo!</i> To-morrow we shall show you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On the following day when the sun was shining brightly, several of
+us went in a canoe to a place beneath the cliffs haunted by the
+sharks, and there prepared to snare one. A rope of hibiscus was made
+fast to a jagged crag, and a noose at the other end was held by Red
+Chicken, who stood on the edge of a great boulder eagerly watching
+while others strewed pig's entrails in the water to entice a victim
+from the dark caves.</p>
+
+<p>At length a long gray shape slid from the shadows and wavered below
+our feet. Instantly Red Chicken slipped from the rock, slid
+noiselessly beneath the water, and slipped the noose over the
+shark's tail before it knew that he was nearby. The others, whose
+hands were on the rope, tightened it on the instant, and with a yell
+of triumph hauled the lashing, fighting demon upon the rocks, where
+he struggled gasping until he died.</p>
+
+<p>There was still another way of catching sharks, Red Chicken said,
+and being now excited with the sport and eager to show his skill, he
+insisted upon displaying it for my benefit, though I, who find small
+pleasure in vicarious danger, would have dissuaded him. For this
+exploit we must row to the coral caves, where the man-eating fish
+stay often lying lazily in the grottoes, only their heads protruding
+into the sun-lit water.</p>
+
+<p>Here we maneuvered until the long, evil-looking snout was seen; then
+Red Chicken went quietly over the side of the canoe, descended
+beside the shark and tapped him sharply on the head. The fish turned
+swiftly to see what teased him, and in the same split-second of time,
+over his fluke went the noose, and Red Chicken was up and away,
+while his companions on a nearby cliff pulled in the rope and killed
+the shark with spears in shallow water. Red Chicken said that he had
+learned this art from a Samoan, whose people were cleverer killers of
+sharks than the Marquesans. It could be done only when the shark was
+full-fed, satisfied, and lazy.</p>
+
+<p>I had seen the impossible, but I was to hear a thing positively
+incredible. While Red Chicken sat breathing deeply in the canoe,
+filled with pride at my praises, and the others were contriving
+means of carrying home the shark meat, I observed a number of fish
+swimming around and through the coral caves, and jumped to the
+conclusion that from their presence Red Chicken had deduced the
+well-filled stomachs and thoroughly satisfied appetite of the shark.
+Red Chicken replied, however, that they were a fish never eaten by
+sharks, and offered an explanation to which I listened politely, but
+with absolute unbelief. Imagine with what surprise I found Red
+Chicken's tale repeated in a book that I read some time later when I
+had returned to libraries.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>There is a fish, the Diodon antennatus, that gets the better of the
+shark in a curious manner. He can blow himself up by taking in air
+and water, until he becomes a bloated wretch instead of the fairly
+decent thing he is in his normal moments. He can bite, he can make a
+noise with his jaws, and can eject water from his mouth to some
+distance. Besides all this, he erects papillae on his skin like
+thorns, and secretes in the skin of his belly a carmine fluid that
+makes a permanent stain. Despite all these defences, if the shark is
+fool enough to heed no warning and to eat Diodon, the latter puffs
+himself up and eats his way clean through the shark to liberty,
+leaving the shark riddled and leaky, and, indeed, dead.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Should this still be doubted, my new authority is Charles Darwin.</p>
+
+<p>After his display of skill and daring&mdash;and, as I thought, vivid
+imagination&mdash;Red Chicken became my special friend and guide, and on
+one occasion it was our being together, perhaps, saved his life, and
+afforded me one of the most thrilling moments of my own.</p>
+
+<p>He and I had gone in a canoe after nightfall to spear fish outside
+the Bay of Virgins. Night fishing has its attractions in these
+tropics, if only for the freedom from severe heat, the glory of the
+moonlight or starlight, and the waking dreams that come to one upon
+the sea, when the canoe rests tranquil, the torch blazes, and the
+fish swim to meet the harpoon. The night was moonless, but the sea
+was covered with phosphorescence, sometimes a glittering expanse of
+light, and again black as velvet except where our canoe moved gently
+through a soft and glamorous surface of sparkling jewels. A night
+for a lover, a lady, and a lute.</p>
+
+<p>Our torch of cocoanut-husks and reeds, seven feet high, was fixed at
+the prow, so that it could be lifted up when needed to attract the
+fish or better to light the canoe. Red Chicken, in a scarlet <i>pareu</i>
+fastened tightly about his loins, stood at the prow when we had
+reached his favorite spot off a point of land, while I, with a paddle,
+noiselessly kept the canoe as stationary as possible.</p>
+
+<p>Light is a lure for many creatures of land and sea and sky. The moth
+and the bat whirl about a flame; the sea-bird dashes its body
+against the bright glass of the lonely tower; wild deer come to see
+what has disturbed the dark of the forest, and fish of different
+kinds leap at a torch. Red Chicken put a match to ours when we were
+all in readiness. The brilliant gleam cleft the darkness and sent
+across the blackness of the water a beam that was a challenge to the
+curiosity of the dozing fish. They hastened toward us, and Red
+Chicken made meat of those who came within the radius of his harpoon,
+so that within an hour or two our canoe was heaped with half a dozen
+kinds.</p>
+
+<p>Far off in the path of the flambeau rays I saw the swordfish leaping
+as they pursued small fish or gamboled for sheer joy in the luminous
+air. They seemed to be in pairs. I watched them lazily, with
+academic interest in their movements, until suddenly one rose a
+hundred feet away, and in his idle caper in the air I saw a bulk so
+immense and a sword of such amazing size that the thought of danger
+struck me dumb.</p>
+
+<p>He was twenty-five feet in length, and had a dorsal fin that stood
+up like the sail of a small boat. But even these dimensions cannot
+convey the feeling of alarm his presence gave me. His next leap
+brought him within forty feet of us. I recalled a score of accidents
+I had seen, read, and heard of; fishermen stabbed, boats rent,
+steel-clad ships pierced through and through.</p>
+
+<p>Red Chicken held the torch to observe him better, and shouted:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Apau!</i> Look out! Paddle fast away!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I needed no urging. I dug into the glowing water madly, and the
+sound of my paddle on the side of the canoe might have been heard
+half a mile away. It served no purpose. Suddenly half a dozen of the
+swordfish began jumping about us, as if stirred to anger by our torch.
+I called to Red Chicken to extinguish, it.</p>
+
+<p>He had seized it to obey when I heard a splash and the canoe
+received a terrific shock. A tremendous bulk fell upon it. With a
+sudden swing I was hurled into the air and fell twenty feet away. In
+the water I heard a swish, and glimpsed the giant espadon as he
+leaped again.</p>
+
+<p>I was unhurt, but feared for Red Chicken. He had cried out as the
+canoe went under, but I found him by the outrigger, trying to right
+the craft. Together we succeeded, and when I had ousted some of the
+water, Red Chicken crawled in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Papaoufaa!</i> I am wounded slightly,&rdquo; he said, as I assisted him.
+&ldquo;The Spear of the Sea has thrust me through.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The torch was lost, but I felt a big hole in the calf of his right
+leg. Blood was pouring from the wound. I made a tourniquet of a
+strip of my <i>pareu</i> and, with a small harpoon, twisted it until the
+flow of blood was stopped. Then, guided by him, I paddled as fast as
+I could to the beach, on which there was little trouble in landing
+as the bay was smooth.</p>
+
+<p>Red Chicken did not utter a complaint from the moment of his first
+outcry, and when I roused others and he was carried to his house, he
+took the pipe handed him and smoked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Aavehie was against him,&rdquo; said an old man. Aavehie is the god
+of fishermen, who was always propitiated by intending anglers in the
+polytheistic days, and who still had power.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr53"></a>
+<a href="images/img53.jpg"><img src="images/thumb53.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Spearing fish in Marquesas Islands</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr54"></a>
+<a href="images/img54.jpg"><img src="images/thumb54.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Pearl shell divers at work</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was no white doctor on the island, nor had there been one for
+many years. There was nothing to do but call the <i>tatihi</i>, or native
+doctor, an aged and shriveled man whose whole body was an intricate
+pattern of tattooing and wrinkles. He came at once, and with his
+claw-like hands cleverly drew together the edges of Red Chicken's
+wound and gummed them in place with the juice of the <i>ape</i>, a
+bulbous plant like the edible <i>taro</i>. Red Chicken must have suffered
+keenly, for the <i>ape</i> juice is exceedingly caustic, but he made no
+protest, continuing to puff the pipe. Over the wound the <i>tatihi</i>
+applied a leaf, and bound the whole very carefully with a bandage of
+<i>tapa</i> cloth folded in surgical fashion.</p>
+
+<p>About the mat on which Red Chicken lay the elders of the village
+congregated in the morning to discuss the accident and tell tales
+while the pipe circulated. One had seen his friend pierced through
+the chest by a sword-fish and instantly killed. Numerous incidents
+of their canoes being sunk by these savage Spears of the Sea were
+recited by the wise men who, with no books to bother them or written
+records to dull their memories, preserved the most minute
+recollections of important events of the past.</p>
+
+<p>For my part, on the subject of the demoniacal work of the swordfish,
+I regaled them with accounts of damage wrought to big ships; of how
+a bony sword had penetrated the hull of the <i>Fortune</i>, of Plymouth,
+cutting through copper, an inch of under-sheathing, a three-inch
+plank of hard wood, twelve inches of solid, white-oak timber, two
+and a half inches of hard oak ceiling, and the head of an oil cask;
+of the sloop <i>Morning Star</i>, which had to be convoyed to port with a
+leak through a hole in eight and a half inches of white oak; of the
+United States Fish Commission sloop, <i>Red Hot</i>, rammed and sunk; of
+the British dreadnaught, which was pumped to Colombo where the leak
+made by the fish was found, and 15,000 francs insurance paid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our fathers never went fishing until they had implored the favor of
+the gods,&rdquo; said Red Chicken. &ldquo;I am a Catholic, but it may be the sea
+is so old, older than Christ, that the devils there obey the old
+gods we used to worship. If that largest Spear of the Sea that we
+saw had attacked me or our boat, he would have killed us and sunk
+the canoe, for he was four fathoms long, and his weapon was as tall
+as I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The <i>tatihi</i> nodded his head gravely. His soul was still in the
+keeping of the gods of his fathers, and-he saw in Red Chicken's
+wound the vengeance of the un-appeased Aavehie.</p>
+
+<p>I was amazed to find that Red Chicken had no fever, and was
+recovering rapidly. Without modern medicine or knowledge of it, the
+<i>tatihi</i> had healed the sufferer, and I drew him on to talk of his
+skill.</p>
+
+<p>His surgical knowledge was excellent; he knew the location of the
+vital organs quite accurately from frequent cutting up of bodies for
+eating. He had treated successfully broken bones, spear-wounds
+through the body, holes knocked in skulls by the vicious, egg-sized
+sling-stones. If the skull was merely cracked, with no smashing of
+the bone, he drilled holes at the end of each crack to prevent
+further cleavage and, replacing the skin he had folded back, bound
+the head with cooling leaves and left nature to cure the break. If
+there was pressure on the brain or a part of the skull was in bits,
+his custom was to remove all these and, trimming the edges of the
+hole in the brainpan, to fit over it a neat disk of cocoanut-shell,
+return the scalp, and nurse the patient to health.</p>
+
+<p>He had known of cases when injured brain matter was replaced with
+pig-brains, but admitted that the patient in such cases became first
+violently angry and then died. Lancing boils and abscesses with
+thorns had been his former habit, but he favored a nail for the
+purpose nowadays.</p>
+
+<p>Fearing lest fever should attack Red Chicken, he had prepared a
+decoction from the hollow joints of the bamboo, which he
+administered in frequent doses from a cocoanut-shell. It was
+milk-white, and became translucent in water, like that beautiful
+variety of opal, the hydrophane. There was a legend, said the
+<i>tatihi</i>, that the knowledge of this medicine had been gleaned from
+a dark man who had come on a ship many years before, and with this
+clue I recognized it as <i>tabasheer</i>, a febrifuge long known in India.</p>
+
+<p>A fire had been built outside the straw hovel in which Red Chicken
+lay, and stones were heating in it, so that if milder medicine did
+not avail the patient might be laid on a pile of blazing stones
+covered with protecting leaves, and swathed in cloths until
+perspiration conquered fever. The patient would then be rushed to the
+sea or river and plunged into cold water.</p>
+
+<p>But this procedure was not necessary. Red Chicken got well rapidly,
+and in a few days was walking about as usual, though with a
+thoughtful look in his eye that promised a soul-struggle with Père
+Olivier, whose new gods had not protected the fisherman against the
+gods of the sea.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A journey over the roof of the world to Oomoa; an encounter with a
+wild woman of the hills.</i></p>
+
+<p>Père Olivier tried to dissuade me from walking back to Oomoa, and
+offered me his horse, but I determined to go afoot and let Orivie, a
+native youth, be my mounted guide. Orivie is named for Père Olivier;
+there being no &ldquo;l&rdquo; in the Marquesan language, the good priest's name
+is pronounced as if spelled in English Oreeveeay.</p>
+
+<p>The horse, the usual small, tough mountain-pony, was caught, and
+upon him we strapped the saddle with cow-skin stirrups, hairy and big,
+and a rope bridle. Orivie, handsomely dressed in wrinkled denim
+trousers, a yellow <i>pareu</i> and an aged straw hat, mounted the beast,
+and bidding farewell to the friends I had made, we began to climb
+the trail through the village.</p>
+
+<p>At each of the dozen houses we passed I had to stop and say <i>Kaoha</i>
+to the occupants. In these islands there is none of that coldness
+toward the casual passer-by which is common in America, where one
+may walk through the tiniest village and receive no salutation unless
+the village constable sees a fee in arresting the wayfarer for not
+having money or a job. All the elders were tattooed, and as every
+island and even every valley differed in its style of skin decoration,
+these people had new patterns and pictures of interest to me. I made
+it a point to linger a little before each house, praising the
+appearance of these tattooed old people, both because it pleased
+them and because it is a pity that this national art expression
+should die out at the whim of whites who substitute nothing for it.
+By this deprivation, as by a dozen others, the Marquesans have been
+robbed of racial pride and clan distinction, and their social life
+destroyed.</p>
+
+<p>Despite this delay, Orivie and I were soon past the houses. As
+population has decreased in all the valleys the people have moved
+down from the upper heights to districts nearer the sea, for
+neighborliness and convenience. Only a few in some places have
+remained in the further glens, and these are the non-conformists, who
+retain yet their native ways of thought and living and their ancient
+customs. This I knew, but I pursued my way behind the climbing
+little horse, enjoying the many sights and perfumes of the jungle,
+in happy ignorance of an experience soon to befall me with one of
+these residents of the heights. It fell upon me suddenly, the most
+embarrassing of several experiences that have divided me between
+fear and laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps a mile above the village, in a wilderness of shrubbery, trees,
+and giant ferns, we came upon a cross-trail, a thin line of travel
+hardly breaking the dense growth, and saw a woman appear from among
+the leaves. She was large, perhaps five feet, ten inches, tall; a
+Juno figure, handsome and lithe. Such a woman of her age, about
+twenty-two years, does the work of a man, makes copra, fells trees,
+lifts heavy stones, and is a match for the average man in strength.
+She was dark, as are all Marquesans who live a hardy and vigorous
+life unsheltered from sun and wind, and in the half shadow of the
+forest she seemed like an animal, wild and savage. Her scarlet
+<i>pareu</i> and necklace of red peppers added color to a picture that
+struck me at once as bizarre and memorable.</p>
+
+<p>The horse had passed her, and turning about in the saddle Orivie
+replied to her greeting, while I added a courteous &ldquo;<i>Kaoha!</i>&rdquo; She
+looked at me with extraordinary attention, which I ascribed to my
+white ducks and traveling cap, while she asked who I was. Orivie
+replied that I was a stranger on my way over the mountains. She
+advanced into the main trail then, letting slip from her shoulders a
+weight of packages, tea, and other groceries, and suddenly embraced
+me, smelling my face and picking me up in a bear hug that, startled
+as I was, nearly choked me.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take care!&rdquo; cried Orivie, in a tone between alarm and amusement. I
+backed hastily away, and sought to take refuge beside a boulder, but
+she vaulted after me, and seizing me again, resumed her passionate
+attack.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a woman of the mountains! She will take you away to her
+<i>paepae</i>!&rdquo; my excited guide yelled warningly.</p>
+
+<p>That was her intention. There was no doubt about it. She seized me
+by the arm and tried to drag me away from the boulder to which I
+clung. For several moments I was engaged in a struggle more sincere
+than chivalrous on my part and ardently demonstrative on hers. But
+as I absolutely would not accede to her desire to give me a home in
+the hills, she was forced to give up hope after a final embrace,
+which I ended rudely, but scientifically. Rising to her feet again,
+she picked up her burden, which must have weighed fully a hundred
+pounds, and went her way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a <i>hinenao pu</i>,&rdquo; said Orivie. That means literally a coquette
+without reason. I did not seek for double meaning in the remark, but
+expressed my opinion of all <i>hinenaos</i> as I replaced my cap and
+readjusted my garments.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These women of the heights are all like that,&rdquo; said my guide.
+&ldquo;They have no sense and no shame. If they see a stranger near their
+home, they will seize him, as men do women. If they are in the mood,
+they will not take no for an answer. It has always been their custom,
+as that of the hill men capturing the valley women. It is shameful,
+but it has never changed. She would give you food and treat you with
+kindness as a man does his bride. You know, in the old days the
+strong women had more than one husband; sometimes four or five, and
+they chose them in this way. If you were nearer where Tepu lives,
+she would make you a prisoner. They have often done that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do we go near her home?&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; we see no more <i>paepaes</i>,&rdquo; replied Orivie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;let us hasten onward.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We mounted at every foot, and soon were above the cocoanuts. The
+trail was a stream interspersed with rocks, for in these steep
+accents the path, worn lower than its borders, becomes in the rainy
+season the natural bed of the trickle or torrent that runs to the
+valley. The horse leaped from rock to rock, planting his back feet
+and springing upward to a perch, upon which he hung until he got
+balance for another leap. I followed the animal, knowing him wiser
+in such matters than I. From time to time Orivie urged me to ride
+and when I refused gave me the knowing look bestowed upon the witless,
+the glance of the asylum-keeper upon the lunatic who thinks himself
+a billiard ball.</p>
+
+<p>We were soon so high that I saw below only a big basin, in which was
+a natural temple, the vast ruin of a gigantic minster, it seemed,
+and across the basin a rugged, saw-like profile of the mountain-top.
+Eons ago the upper valley was a volcano, when the island of
+Fatu-hiva was under the sea. Once the fire burst through the crater
+side toward the present beach, and after the explosion there was
+left a massive gateway of rock, through which we had come from the
+village. Towering so high that they were hardly perceptible when we
+had been beside them, they showed from this height their whole
+formation, like the wrecked walls of a stupendous basilica.</p>
+
+<p>Up and up we went. The way was steeper than any mountain I have ever
+climbed, except the sheer sides of chasms where ropes are necessary,
+or the chimneys of narrow defiles. I have climbed on foot Vesuvius,
+Halaakela, Kilauea, Fuji, and Mayon, and the mountains of America,
+Asia, and South America, though I know nothing by trial of the
+terrors of the Alps. However, the horse could and did go up the steep,
+though it taxed him to the utmost, and these horses are like
+mountain-goats, for there is hardly any level land in the Marquesas.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr55"></a>
+<a href="images/img55.jpg"><img src="images/thumb55.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Catholic Church at Hanavave<br/>
+Frère Fesal on left, Père Olivier on right</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr56"></a>
+<a href="images/img56.jpg"><img src="images/thumb56.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A canoe in the surf at Oomoa</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Unexpectedly, the sea came in view, with the Catholic church and its
+white belfry, but in another turn it disappeared. I fell again and
+again; the horse floundered among the stones in the trough and fell,
+too, Orivie seizing trees or bushes that lined the banks to save
+himself. Rocks as large as hundred-ton vessels were on the
+mountainside above, held from falling only by small rocks interposed,
+feeble obstacles to an avalanche. Beetling precipices overhung the
+village. I thought they might fall at any moment, and the Marquesans
+recount many such happenings. In Tai-o-hae three hundred natives
+were entombed forever by a landslide, and Orivie pointed out the
+tracks of such slides, and immense masses of rock in the far depths
+below, beside strips of soft soil brought down by the rains.</p>
+
+<p>The wild guava and the thorny <i>keoho</i>, the taro, the pandanus and
+the banian, all the familiar and useful trees and plants were left
+behind. We toiled onward in a wilderness of stone.</p>
+
+<p>I climbed around the edge of a precipice, and stood above the sea.
+The blue ocean, as I looked downward, was directly under my eyes,
+and I could see the fishing canoes like chips on the water. It was a
+thousand feet straight down; the standing-place was but three feet
+wide, wet and slippery. The mighty trade-wind swept around the crags
+and threatened to dislodge me.</p>
+
+<p>That demoniacal impulse to throw oneself from a height took
+possession of me. Almost a physical urging of the body, as if some
+hidden Mephistopheles not only poured into the soul his hellish
+advice to end your life, but pushed you to the brink. As never
+before the evil desire to fall from that terrible height attacked me,
+and the world became a black dizziness. Struggling, I threw out my
+hand; the unconscious grip upon a stunted fern, itself no barrier
+against falling, gave me a mental grip upon myself, and the crisis
+was passed.</p>
+
+<p>On hands and knees I crept around the ledge, for the wind was a gale,
+and a slip of a foot might mean a drop of a fifth of a mile.</p>
+
+<p>The next valley, Tapaatea, came in view, and Hanavave a cleft in the
+mountains, the stream a silver cord. A cascade gleamed on the
+opposite side against the Namana hills. It is Vaieelui, the youth
+Orivie informed me, as we went higher, still on the dangerous ledge
+that binds the seaward precipice. All the valleys converged to a
+point, and nothing below was distinct.</p>
+
+<p>Higher we went, and were level with the jagged ridge of the Faeone
+mountains toward the north, and could look through the pierced
+mountain, Laputa; through the hole, <i>tehavaiinenao</i>, that is like a
+round window to the sky, framed in black, about which legends are
+raised. Orivie smiled indulgently as I explained to him that that
+hole was made by sea-currents when Laputa was under the ocean. He
+knew that a certain warrior, half god and half man, threw his spear
+through the mountain once upon a time.</p>
+
+<p>We came then to the veriest pitch of the journey, like the roof of
+the world, and it was necessary to crawl about another ledge that
+permitted a perpendicular view of 2500 feet, so desperate in its
+attraction that had I known the name of that saint who is the patron
+of alpenstock buyers I would have offered him an <i>ave</i>. This was the
+apex. Once safely past it, the trail went downward to a plateau.</p>
+
+<p>I caught up with Orivie and the horse, and my muscles so rejoiced at
+the change of motion in descent that almost involuntarily I took a
+few steps of a jig and uttered the first verses of &ldquo;I Only Had Fifty
+Cents.&rdquo; Mosses and ferns by the billion covered every foot of the
+small plateau. There were no trees. The trail was a foot deep in
+water, like an irrigation ditch. One still might easily break one's
+neck. And I reflected that Père Olivier crosses many times a year
+between Oomoa and Hanavave, in his black soutan and on his weary
+horse, in all weathers, alone; it is a fact to treasure for
+recalling when one hears all missionaries included in the accusation
+of selfishness that springs so often to the lips of many men.</p>
+
+<p>We reached the plane of cocoanuts, and I asked Orivie to fetch down
+a couple, after essaying to perform that feat myself and failing
+dismally besides scratching my nose and hands. Bare feet are a
+requisite&mdash;bare and tough as leather. The Marquesans cut notches in
+the trees after they reach maturity, to make the climbing easier, a
+custom they have in many parts of Asia, but not in Tahiti. These
+footholds are made every three feet on opposite sides. They are cut
+shallowly, inclining downward and outward, in order not to wound the
+wood of the tree or to form pockets in which water would collect and
+rot it. With these aids they climb with ease, using a rope of
+<i>purau</i> bark tied about the wrists, and by these they pull
+themselves from notch.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen a child of six years reach the top of a sixty-foot tree
+in a minute or so, and I have seen a man or woman stop on the way,
+fifty feet from the earth, and light a cigarette. Slim, fat, chiefs
+or commoners, all learn this knack in infancy. Men who puff along
+the road because of their bulk will attain the branches of a palm
+with the agility of monkeys.</p>
+
+<p>Orivie had no notches to assist him, but tied his ankles together
+with a piece of tough vine, leaving about ten inches of play, and
+with this band, pressed tightly against the tree, giving firm
+support while his arms, clasping the trunk above, drew him upward a
+yard at a time, he was at the crest of a fifty-foot tree in a minute,
+and threw down two drinking nuts. They were as big as foot-balls and
+weighed about five pounds each. We had no knife, but broke in the
+tops with stones, and holding up the shining green nuts, let the
+wine flow down our throats. Never was a better thirst-quencher or
+heartener! The hottest noon on the hottest beach, when the coral
+burns the feet, this nectar is cool. After the most arduous climb,
+when lungs and muscles ache with weariness, it freshens strength and
+lifts the spirit.</p>
+
+<p>By the cocoanut-grove ran a level stream shaded with pandanus, and
+following it, we commenced again to mount on a pathway arched by
+small trees, down which the stream coursed. The cocoanuts fell away
+as we went up the ridge and emerged upon a tableland covered with
+ferns, some green and some dead and dry, carpeting the flat expanse
+as far as eye could see with a mat of lavender, the green and the
+brown melting into that soft color.</p>
+
+<p>We were further on the broad roof on the mountains, in the middle
+now and not on the edge, so we ran and galloped and shouted. Wild
+horses fled from us, and we heard the grunt of boar in the fern
+thickets. The fan-palms, dwarfs, but graceful, intermingled with
+magnificent tree-ferns, while above them curved the <i>huetu</i>, the
+immense mountain plantain, called <i>fei</i> in Tahiti, where they are
+the bread of the people; they have ribbed, emerald leaves, as big as
+a man. Feeders of dark people in many lands for thousands of years,
+theirs is the same golden fruit I had eaten at breakfast with Père
+Olivier, three thousand feet below. They grow only in the mountains,
+and the men who bring them into the villages have feet shaped like a
+hand spread out to its widest, with toes twisted curiously by
+climbing rocks and grasping roots for support.</p>
+
+<p>The rain began to fall again, and the wind came stronger, but now we
+were going down in earnest. The sea shone again, but it was on the
+Oomoa side. We passed under trees hung with marvelous orchids, the
+<i>puaauetaha</i>, Orivie said, parasitic vines related to the vanilla
+as the lion is related to the kitten, cousins, but with little
+family likeness.</p>
+
+<p>The trail became very dangerous at this point, a rocky slide, with
+steps a foot or two apart like uneven stairs, and all a foot, or
+sometimes two, under running water. I jumped and slid and slipped,
+following the unhappy plunging horse. Darkness came on quickly with
+the blinding rain, and the descent was often at an angle of
+forty-five degrees, over rocks, eroded hills, along the edge of a
+precipice. I fell here, and saved myself by catching a root in the
+trail and pulling myself up again. I would have dropped upon the roof
+of the gendarme's house a thousand feet below.</p>
+
+<p>We heard the sound of the surf, and letting the horse go, Orivie led
+me, by that sense we surrender for the comforts of civilization,
+down the bed of a cascade to the River of Oomoa, which we waded, and
+then arrived at Grelet's house. We had come thirteen miles. I was
+tired, but Orivie made nothing of the journey.</p>
+
+<p>Covered with mud as I was, I went to the river and bathed in the
+rain and, returning to the house, looked after my health. A half
+ounce of rum, a pint of cocoanut-milk from a very young nut, the
+juice of half a lime just from the tree, two lumps of sugar, and I
+had an invigorating draught, long enough for a golf player after
+thirty-six holes, and delicate enough for a debutante after her
+first cotillion. The Paumotan boys and Pae looked on in horror,
+saying that I was spoiling good rum.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Return in a canoe to Atuona; Tetuahunahuna relates the story of the
+girl who rode the white horse in the celebration of the féte of Joan
+of Arc in Tai-o-hae; Proof that sharks hate women; steering by the
+stars to Atuona beach.</i></p>
+
+<p>The canoe we had followed to Hanavave stopped in Oomoa on its way to
+Hiva-oa, my home, for I had bargained with Tetuahunahuna, its owner,
+for my conveyance to Atuona. Grelet would eventually have
+transported me, but so great was his aversion to leaving Fatu-hiva
+that I felt it would be asking too much of him. He reminded me that
+Kant, the great metaphysician, had lived eighty years in his
+birthplace and never stirred more than seven miles from it.</p>
+
+<p>The canoe had come to Hanavave to bring back two young women. One
+was dark, a voluptuous figure in a pink satin gown over a lace
+petticoat. A leghorn hat, trimmed with shells and dried nuts, sat
+coquettishly upon her masses of raven hair. Upon her neck, rounded
+as a young cocoanut-tree, was a necklace of pearls that an empress
+might have envied her, had they been real and not the synthetic gift
+of some trader. Small and shapely feet, bare, peeped from under her
+filmy frills. Her eyes were the large, limpid orbs of the typical
+Marquesan, like sepia, long-lashed; her nose straight and perfect,
+her mouth sensuous and demanding. Ghost Girl, her name signified,
+and she flitted about the islands like a sprite.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She levies tribute on all whom she likes,&rdquo; said Grelet. &ldquo;Her
+devotions are rum and tobacco.&rdquo; On meeting me she squatted and spat
+through her fingers to show her thirst, as do all Marquesans whose
+manners have not been corrupted by strangers.</p>
+
+<p>The other girl, younger, in a scarlet tunic with a wreath of
+hibiscus flowers on her head, startled me by appearing with all her
+body that I could see colored a brilliant yellow. She had decked
+herself for the journey with a covering of <i>ena</i>-paste, perfumed
+with saffron, a favorite cosmetic of island beauties.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was white on Oomoa beach as we came down to it from the
+grateful shade of Grelet's plantation. Against the blinding glimmer
+of it the half-naked boatsmen, bearing bunches of bananas, dozens
+of drinking nuts, bread, and wine, the gifts of my host, were dark
+silhouettes outlined against the blue sea.</p>
+
+<p>Behind them walked Tetuahunahuna. Calm, unburdened, and without a
+tattoo mark on his straight brown body, he looked the commander of
+men that he was, a man whose word none would think to question or to
+doubt. Indifferent alike to the dizzying heat and to the admiring
+glances of the women, he set at once to ordering the loading of the
+boat that lay upon the sands beyond the reach of the breakers.</p>
+
+<p>A dozen women lounged in the ancient public place beneath the banian
+tree, a mighty platform of black stone on which the island women had
+sat for centuries to watch their men come and go in canoes to the
+fishing or to raids on neighboring bays, and where for decades they
+have awaited the landing of their white sailor lovers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Tai, menino!</i> A pacific sea!&rdquo; they called to us as we passed them,
+and their eyes followed with envy the progress of Ghost Girl and
+Sister of Anna.</p>
+
+<p>The boat was already well loaded when I reached it. The fermented
+breadfruit wrapped in banana-leaves, the pig dug from the pit that
+morning and packed in sections of bamboo, the calabashes of river
+water, the bananas and drinking nuts, were all in place. With
+difficulty my luggage was added to the cargo, and we found cramped
+places for ourselves and bade farewell to Grelet, while the oarsmen
+held the boat steady at the edge of the lapping waves. Tetuahunahuna,
+watching the breakers, gave a quick word of command, and we plunged
+through the foam.</p>
+
+<p>The boat leaped and pitched in the flying spray. The oarsmen,
+leaping to their places, struck out with the oars. A sharp &ldquo;<i>Haie!</i>&rdquo;
+of alarm rose behind me, and I saw that an oar had snapped. But
+Tetuahunahuna, waist-deep in the water at our stern, gave a mighty
+push, and we were safely afloat as he clambered over the edge and
+stood dripping on the steersman's tiny perch, while the men, holding
+the boat head-on to the rolling waves, drove us safely through to
+open water.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the bay they put by their oars and we waited for a breeze to
+give the signal for hoisting mast and sail. The beach lay behind us,
+a narrow line of white beyond the whiter curve of surf. The blue sky
+burned above us, and to the far shimmering horizon stretched the
+blue calm of a windless sea.</p>
+
+<p>We rolled idly, the sun scorching us. In an hour I was so hot that I
+began to wonder if I could endure the torment. The buckle on my
+trousers burned my flesh, and I could not touch my clothes without
+pain. The Marquesans lay comfortably on the seats and bundles,
+enjoying their pandanus-leaf cigarettes. Every few moments the
+bow-oar skillfully rolled one, took a few puffs and handed it to the
+next man, who, after taking his turn, passed it down the waiting line.</p>
+
+<p>From time to time Tetuahunahuna, squatting in the stern, made a sign,
+and a fresh cigarette passed untouched through eight hands to his.
+He smoked serenely, gazing at the smooth swells of water and waiting
+with inexhaustible patience for the wind. At his feet the
+fifteen-year-old girl, Sister of Anne, disposed her saffron-colored
+body upon oars laid across the thwarts and slept. Ghost Girl, beside
+me, laid her glossy head in my lap to doze more comfortably.</p>
+
+<p>Jammed against the unyielding thwarts, I passed miserable hours,
+unable to move more than a few inches in the narrow space. At noon,
+with the vertical eye of the evil sun staring down upon us, my
+clothes were so hot that I had to hold them off my body. I meditated
+leaping into the ocean and swimming awhile. Ghost Girl saw my
+intention when I stirred, and pulled me back beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mako!</i>&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;<i>Puaa hae!</i>&rdquo; She pointed to starboard. A gray
+fin moved slowly through the water twenty feet away. &ldquo;A shark, and a
+wicked beast he is!&rdquo; She reached to pick up an opened cocoanut and
+tossed some of the milk over her shoulder to appease the demon.
+&ldquo;<i>Mako!</i>&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;<i>Puaa hae!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Requin!</i>&rdquo; echoed Tetuahunahuna in French. &ldquo;The devil of the
+Marquesas!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you are not afraid of them. You swim where they are,&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Few of us are bitten by sharks,&rdquo; said Tetuahunahuna, sizing up a
+puff of wind that brought a faint hope. It died, and he continued.
+&ldquo;We are often in the sea, and do not fear the <i>mako</i> enough to make
+us weak against him. I have killed many with a knife. I have tied
+ropes about their bellies and made them feel silly as we pulled them
+in. I have tickled their bellies with the point of the knife that
+slit them later. They are awkward, they must turn over to bite, and
+they are afraid of a man swimming. But they are devils, and hate
+women. They do not like men, but women they will go far to kill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He took the cigarette Ghost Girl handed him and, squatting on the
+rudder deck, looked at me to see if I were interested. Wretched as I
+felt, I returned his glance, and said &ldquo;<i>Tiatohoa?</i>&rdquo; which means,
+&ldquo;Is that so?&rdquo; and showed that I was attentive.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is so,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;There are reasons for this. In times before
+the memory of man a shark-god was deceived by a woman. In his anger
+he overturned an island, but this did not appease his hate. Since
+that time all sharks have preyed on women.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sister of Anne moved restlessly in her sleep and put her
+<i>ena</i>-covered feet across my knees, feet as hot as an iron
+pump-handle on a July noon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Hakaia!</i>&rdquo; exclaimed Ghost Girl, and hung the feet over the side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sharks will let men live to kill women,&rdquo; Tetuahunahuna resumed.
+&ldquo;There are many proofs of this, but most convincing is a happening
+that every one in Tai-o-hae and Nuka-hiva knows, because it happened
+only a few years ago. I saw that happening.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him with attention, and after a few puffs of smoke he
+continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may think, you who use the Iron Fingers That Make Words, that
+the shark does not know the difference between men and women. I have
+seen it, and I will tell you honestly. I have thought often of it,
+for all who live in Tai-o-hae know that woman, and her foster-sister
+sits there with the <i>ena</i> upon her. She does not lie in the cemetery,
+this girl of whom I speak, nor is her body beside that of her
+fathers in the <i>ua tupapau</i>. Her name was Anna, a name for your
+country, <i>fenua Menike</i>, for her father was captain of a vessel with
+three masts that came from Newbeddifordimass, a place where all the
+Menike ships that hunt the whale came from. Her mother was O Take Oho,
+of the valley of Hapaa, whose father was eaten by the men of
+Tai-o-hae in the war with that white captain, Otopotee.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ue!</i> Those big ships that hunt the whale come no more. The <i>paaoa</i>
+spouts with none to strike him. Standireili makes the lanterns burn
+in Menike land, and they send it here in tipoti, the big cans. The
+old days are gone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The father of Anna saw her first when she was one year old and
+could barely swim. He came in his ship from Newbeddifordimass, and
+he said that it was for the last time, for the whaling was done. He
+was a young man, strong and a user of strong words, but he looked
+with pride on the little Anna, and kept her with her with her mother
+on his ship for many weeks, while the men of the ship danced with
+the girls. He would bathe on the beach in the bay of Tai-o-hae, and
+the little Anna would swim to him through the deep water. He gave
+her a small silver box with a silver chain, for the <i>tiki</i> of
+Bernadette, on the day that he sailed away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He did not come again to Tai-o-hae, nor Atuona, nor Hanavave. We
+heard that he traded with Tahiti, and had given up the chase of the
+<i>paaoa</i>. I have never been in Tahiti. They say that it is
+beautiful and that the people are joyous. They have all the <i>namu</i>
+they can drink. The government is good to them.&rdquo; Tetuahunahuna sighed,
+and looked at my bag, in which was the bottle of rum Grelet had
+given me.</p>
+
+<p>I poured a drink into the cocoanut-shell Ghost Girl had emptied, and
+gave it to him. &ldquo;<i>Kaoha!</i>&rdquo; he said and, having swallowed the rum,
+went on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When Anna had fourteen years she was <i>mot kanahua</i>, as beautiful as
+a great pearl. She was tall for her age as are the daughters of the
+great. Her hair was of red and of gold, like that of Titihuti of
+Autuona. Her eyes were the color of the <i>mio</i>, the rosewood when
+freshly cut, and her breasts like the milk-cocoanut husked for
+drinking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Many young men, Marquesan men and all the white men, and George
+Washington, the black American, tried to capture Anna, but Père
+Simeon, the priest, had given her to the blessed Maria Peato, and
+the Sisters guarded her carefully. From the time she played naked on
+the beach she wore the tiki of Bernadette in the silver box given
+her by her father, and she said the prayers Père Simeon taught her
+from the book. She wore a blue <i>pareu</i>, and that was strange, for
+only old people, and few of them, wear any but the red or yellow
+loin-cloth. But blue, said little Anna, is the color of Maria Peato,
+mother of Christ.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The others were listening curiously. Ghost Girl crossed herself and
+muttered, &ldquo;<i>Kaoha</i>, Maria Peato!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When she had fourteen years, then, Anna was different from all
+other girls on these beaches. All men sighed for her, but she was
+one who would not follow the custom of our girls since always. She
+was made different by her mother, by the prayers of Père Simeon, and
+by something strange in her <i>kuhane</i>&mdash;what do you say? Soul. She
+cared nothing for drink or <i>pipi</i>, the trinkets girls adore. She
+spoke of herself always as the daughter of a Menike captain, a
+father who would come for her and take her away. Her mother had kept
+this always in her mind, and Anna never joined the dances.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Her mother, who lived on the beach and waited for the sailors, saw
+her seldom, for Père Simeon had taken Anna away, and kept her in the
+nuns' house, and they guarded her. He had put a <i>tapu</i> upon her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I sat up suddenly, struck by a memory. &ldquo;It was she who rode the
+white horse, and bore the armor of Joan in the great parade?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was she. The nuns would have had her live in the nun's house
+forever, and become one of them. But Anna told me on the beach when
+she came hiding to see her mother, that she would live in the nuns'
+house only until her Menike father came to take her away. She kept
+the <i>tiki</i> of Bernadette in its silver box upon her neck, and it was
+her god to whom she said her prayers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Epo!</i>&rdquo; I said, sitting up, dumfounded. &ldquo;Go on, Tetuahunahuna. Tell
+me more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There came the great day of the blessed Joan,&rdquo; said Tetuahunahuna,
+after tasting a fresh cigarette. &ldquo;There were drums and chants, and
+rum for all. Père Simeon took away the rum, alas! and only the
+Menike sailors on the ships could have enough. Anna wore a garment
+that shone like the sun on the waves, and sat upon a white horse,
+riding from the mission to the House of Lepers on the beach. Père
+Simeon walked before her carrying the tiki of the Sacrament, and
+there were banners white as the new web of the cocoanut. Anna did
+not look to right or to left as she sat upon the horse, but when she
+stood on the sand by the House of Lepers, she looked long at a new
+ship in the bay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anna said that this ship might be that of her white father, but the
+name was different, and this ship was not from Newbeddifordimass.
+She said she would swim to this ship to see her father, but her
+mother said no. Her mother told her that the waters were full of
+sharks, and that not even a <i>tiki</i> of Bernadette would save her.
+Then came the nuns, and took Anna away. Anna wept as she went with
+them, for she desired to stay and look at the ship.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That night the boats of the ship could not land on the beach of
+Tai-o-hae, for the sea was too great, so that they came and went
+from Peikua, the staircase in the rocks. The sailors had leave to do
+what they wished and they had plenty of rum given them by the captain
+who was born that day forty years before. I went then to the ship to
+drink the captain's rum and to buy tobacco. I am of Hiva-oa, and the
+ship was large, and new to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tetuahunahuna's gesture brought quickly to him a fresh cigarette,
+and he savored its rank smoke with satisfaction. The slender canoe
+swung like a hammock in the long, sluggish rollers. The sun blazed
+pitilessly upon us, and no slightest ruffle of white broke the
+surface of the calm, unrelenting sea that held us prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At night there was nobody on the ship not drunk. Some of the men
+had seized several women on the road that leads to Tai-o-hae, and
+had forced them to the boat and carried them aboard. Among these
+women was Anna, who had fled from the nuns to seek word of her father.
+She fought like a wild woman of the hills when they held her in jest
+to make her swallow the rum, but the strong ship men conquered her,
+and the sound of their laughter and her cries was so great that the
+captain himself came forward. When he saw her he claimed her as the
+youngest, as is the custom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She went with him weeping. When they came to his cabin, we heard
+her crying aloud to Maria Peato. We heard the shouts of the captain,
+enraged, subduing her with blows. There was much rum, and the women
+were dancing. There was much noise, but I had drunk little, having
+just come to the ship, and I heard the crying and weeping of Anna.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;After a time came Anna, running across the deck. It was a large
+vessel, and it was a dark night. The captain pursued her. She
+climbed the rigging, and the captain ordered two men to go aloft and
+bring her to him.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr57"></a>
+<a href="images/img57.jpg"><img src="images/thumb57.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>The gates of the Valley of Hanavave</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr58"></a>
+<a href="images/img58.jpg"><img src="images/thumb58.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>A fisherman's house of bamboo and cocoanut leaves</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every one came to look, with yells and with songs. The sailors
+climbed after her, and she went higher and higher, until near the
+top of that tall mast, taller than the greatest cocoanut-tree in
+Atuona. There she held to the wood, calling upon Maria Peato. The
+captain was like a man mad with <i>namu</i>. He called to the sailors to
+climb higher. But when one reached to take her by the foot, she
+threw herself into the air and fell a great distance into the water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The captain cried that he would give four litres of rum to the man
+that brought her back. Some ran to get the boat, others dived after
+her. I was one of these.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have said that it was a black night. When in the water we could
+get no sight of her. Then on the ship one turned a bright lantern on
+the sea, and all of us saw her arm as it was raised to swim. She was
+a hundred feet before us, and swimming with great swiftness. The
+sailors meantime had set out in the boat, but they had drunk much rum,
+and rowed around and around. We three men swimming in the beams of
+the lantern came closer to her at every stroke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Almost my hand was upon her, when the largest shark I have ever
+seen rose beside her. You know it is at night that these devils look
+for their prey. Anna saw the <i>mako</i> at the same moment, and made a
+great splashing. I heard her call out the name of Bernadette the
+Blessed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The men with me turned about, but I kept on. I cried to the boat to
+hurry to us. I could see the <i>mako</i> turn in the water, as he must do
+to take anything into his mouth. I kicked him and I struck him, and
+I cursed him by the name of <i>Manu-Aiata</i>, the shark god. If I had
+had a knife I could have killed him easily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Menike, I could do nothing. He did not want me. The boat came,
+but not in time. I saw the devil take her in his jaws as the wild
+boar takes a bird that is helpless, and I felt him descend into the
+depths of the sea. I could do nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A cat's-paw stole across the sea from the southeast, the boat rolled
+hard, and Tetuahunahuna sprang erect.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>A toi te ka!</i> Make sail!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>They raised the slender mast, a rose-wood tree, roughly shaped in
+the forest, and fastened it to either thwart with three ropes.
+Through a ring at its head was passed the lift, and the sail of mats,
+old and worn, was set, men and women all fastening the strings to
+the boom. Two sheets were used, one cleated about five feet from the
+rudder, the other at the disposition of the steersman, who let out
+the boom according to the wind.</p>
+
+<p>The breeze sprang up and died, and sprang up again. At last the
+deathly calm, the sickening heat, were over, and we sped across the
+freshening waves.</p>
+
+<p>Mast and sail out of the way, we stretched ourselves in the boat
+with more comfort, enjoying the cooling current of air. Tetuahunahuna,
+the sheet in his hand, squatted again on his narrow perch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You returned to that ship when the boat picked you up?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Aue!</i>&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;The captain was crazed with anger. He cursed me,
+and said that the girl has swum ashore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;No, the shark has taken Anna,&rsquo; I said. &lsquo;She will look for her
+white father no more.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The captain had a glass of rum at his mouth, but he put it down. He
+would have me tell him again her name. When I did so, he shook as if
+with cold, and he swallowed the rum quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Where was she born?&rsquo; he said next.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;At Hapaa. Her mother is O Take Oho, whose father was eaten by the
+men of Tai-o-hae,&rsquo; I said, and looking at his face I saw that his
+eyes were the color of the <i>mio</i>, the rosewood when freshly cut.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The captain went to his cabin, and soon he leaped up the stairs,
+falling over the thing they look at to steer the ship, and there,
+lying on the deck, he cried again and again that I had done wrong
+not to tell him earlier.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He held in his hand the <i>tiki</i>, the silver box that Anna had always
+worn about her neck, that her father had given her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was like a wild bull in the hills, that ship's captain, when he
+arose, roaring and cursing me. I feared that he would shoot me, for
+he had a revolver in his hand and said that he would kill himself.
+But he did not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A Marquesan who was as hateful to himself would have eaten the
+<i>eva</i>, but this man had not the courage, with all his cries. I
+swam ashore when he became maddened as a <i>kava</i> drinker who does not
+eat. The mother of Atuona, whom I told in Tai-o-hae, went to see him,
+but he did not know her, and she took the <i>tiki</i> from his cabin when
+she found him praying to it. He was <i>paea</i>, his stomach empty of
+thought. When the ship left, he was tied with the irons they have
+for sailors, and the second chief sailed the vessel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost Girl shook the <i>ena</i>-covered maiden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Oi vii!</i>&rdquo; she said petulantly. &ldquo;Take in your feet. Do you want the
+<i>mako</i> to eat them? Do you not remember your sister?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The shark still moved a few fathoms away.</p>
+
+<p>We were now in the open sea, with forty miles to go to the Bay of
+Traitors. The boat lay over at an angle, the boom hissed through the
+water when close-hauled, and when full-winged, its heel bounced and
+splashed on the surface, as we made our six knots. There was twice
+too much weight in the canoe, but these islanders think nothing of
+loads, and for hours the company sat to windward or on the thwart
+while we took advantage of every puff of wind that blew. The six
+oarsmen took turns in bailing, using a heavy carved wooden scoop,
+but in the frequent flurries the waves poured over the side.</p>
+
+<p>The island of Fatu-hiva faded behind us, and raised Moho-Tani, the
+Isle of Barking Dogs, a small, but beautifully regular, islet, like
+a long emerald. No soul dwells there. The Moi-Atiu clan peopled it
+before a sorcerer dried up the water sources. A curse is upon it,
+and while the cocoanuts flourish and all is fair to the eye, it
+remains a shunned and haunted spot.</p>
+
+<p>Tahuata, that lovely isle of the valley of Vait-hua, rose on our left,
+with the cape <i>Te hope e te keko</i>, a purple coast miles away, which
+as the dusk descended grew darker and was lost. The shadowy
+silhouettes of the mountains of Hiva-oa projected themselves on the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>Night fell like a wall, and nothing was to be seen but the glow of
+the pipe that passed as if by spirit hands around our huddled group.
+The head of Ghost Girl was on my knees, and among the sons and
+daughters of cannibals peace enveloped me as at twilight in a grove.
+More in tune with the moods of nature, the rhythm of sea and sky,
+the breath of the salt breeze, than we who have sold our birthright
+for arts, these savages sat silent for a little while as if the
+spirit of the hour possessed their souls.</p>
+
+<p>Then the stars began to take their places in heaven to do their duty
+toward the poor of earth, and I saw the bright and inspiring faces
+of many I knew. The wind shifted and freshened, the sail was drawn
+nearer, and our speed became perilous. The waves grew, but
+Tetuahunahuna, seeing nothing, but feeling with sheet and helm the
+temper of changing air and water, kept the canoe's prow steady, and
+the men, in emergencies, threw themselves half over the starboard
+gunwale. I was on the edge of the steersman's perch, enjoying the
+mist of the flying spray and watching the stars appear one by one.</p>
+
+<p>Tetuahunahuna pointed toward the northern sky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Miope!</i> I steer by the star the color of the rosewood tree,&rdquo; he
+said. There was our own Mars, redder than the sunsets over Mariveles.
+Northwest he was, this god of war and fertility, and our bow beacon.
+Turning and gazing toward Fatu-hiva I saw the Southern Cross, low in
+the sky, brilliant, and splendid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mataike fetu!</i>&rdquo; Ghost Girl named the constellation. &ldquo;The Small Eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miope has rivers like Taka-Uku and Atuona,&rdquo; I said, relying on the
+alleged canals of Mars to save my soul. &ldquo;I have seen through a
+<i>karahi mea tiohi i te fetu</i>, the Mirror Thing Through Which One
+Looks At The Stars, long as a tree and big around as a pig. Miope
+has people upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are they Marquesans?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They must be Marquesans for there are islands,&rdquo; I replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And <i>popoi</i> and pigs?&rdquo; demanded the <i>ena</i>-perfumed one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Namu?</i> Have they rum?&rdquo; whispered the Ghost Girl, and nestled closer,
+remembering that soon we would be at my own house.</p>
+
+<p>I had confidence in Tetuahunahuna's stars. The Polynesians have
+always had an excellent working knowledge of the heavens and were
+deeply interested in astronomy. They knew the relative positions of
+the stars, their changes and phases. They predicted weather changes
+accurately, and kept in their memories periodicity charts so that
+they are able to form estimates of what will be, by considering what
+has been. They had a wonderful art of navigation, considering that
+they had no compass, sextant, or other instrument, and that their
+vessels were always comparatively small. The handling of canoes,
+like swimming, is instinctive with them, and no white ever compares
+with them in skill.</p>
+
+<p>Our boat doubled Point Teachoa, and we were in the Bay of Traitors.
+The wind suddenly fell flat, and we rowed several miles to the beach.
+A score of lights moved about on the dark waters of the bay, and
+fishermen shouted to us to come to them. We found Great Fern, my
+landlord, with Apporo, Broken Plate with the Vagabond, and they had
+several canoes full of fish. They were delighted at my return, and
+rubbed noses with me over the gunwales.</p>
+
+<p>Getting ashore at the stone steps of Taka-Uka was a task worthy of
+such boatsmen, in the darkness, the sea beating madly against the
+cliffs. Tetuahunahuna listened to the smashing waves and peered for
+the blacker outlines of the stairway and the faint gleam of the foam.
+The boat approached; the sea leaped to break it against the rocks.
+The steersman held it a second, and in that second you had to leap.
+It is touch and go, and heaven help you! If you miss, you fall into
+the sea, or the boat crushes you against the rocks. The swell sweeps
+the place you land on, and you must ascend quickly to safety or find
+hold against the suck of the retiring water.</p>
+
+<p>Tetuahunahuna ran to the nearest house for a lantern and poles, and
+while two remained in the boat to hold it off the rocks, the others
+carried my luggage to Atuona. I took the lead in a drizzling rain,
+carrying the light, mighty glad to stretch my legs after more than a
+dozen hours of cramp. Passing the house of the chief-of-police, I
+heard laughter and the clink of glasses. Bauda halted me with a
+leveled revolver, thinking we were a rum-smuggling gang. That brave
+African soldier was ever dramatic, and <i>D'Artagnan</i> could not have
+struck a finer attitude as he thrust the gun in my face and called
+out, &ldquo;<i>Halte là</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ah, c'est le Yahnk' Doodl'. Mais tonnerre de dieu</i>, you have been
+away a long time!&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Sea sports; curious sea-foods found at low tide; the peculiarities
+of sea-centipedes and how to cook and eat them.</i></p>
+
+<p>With what delight I returned to lazy days in Atuona Valley, lounging
+on the black <i>paepae</i> of my own small blue cabin in the shadow of
+Temiteu, idling on the sun-warm sands of the familiar beach, walking
+the remembered road between banana hedges heavy with yellowing fruit!
+The heart of man puts down roots wherever it rests; it is perhaps
+this sense of home that gives the zest to wandering, for new
+experiences gain their value from contrast with the old, and one
+must have felt the bondage, however light, of emotion and habit
+before he can know the joy of freedom from it. Still a man leaves
+part of himself in every home he makes, and the wanderer, free of
+the one strong cord that would hold him to one place, feels always
+the urge of a thousand slender ties pulling him back to the thousand
+temporary homes he has made everywhere on the world.</p>
+
+<p>So the old routine closed around me pleasantly; mornings in the
+shade of my palms and breadfruit, eating the breakfasts prepared for
+me by Exploding Eggs over the fire of cocoanut husks, baths in the
+clear pool of the river with my neighbors, afternoons spent in the
+cocoanut-groves or with merry companions on the beach. Exploding
+Eggs directed the surf board with a sure hand, lying flat, kneeling
+or even standing on the long plank as he came in on the crest of the
+breakers. I had now and again succeeded in being carried along while
+flat on my stomach on the board, but failed many times oftener than
+I succeeded. Now I set myself in earnest to learn the art of
+mastering the surf.</p>
+
+<p>Three or four o'clock in the afternoon was the time I usually chose
+for the sport, and once I had made it a practice, all the boys and
+girls of the village accompanied me, or waited for me at the shore,
+sure of hilarious hours. I must make children my companions, here,
+for my older friends were so oppressed by the gloom of race
+extinction that save for Malicious Gossip and one or two others,
+there was no capacity for joyousness left in them. Exploding Eggs was
+my chum, paid as forager and firemaker, but giving from friendliness
+his services as a wise and admirable teacher of the unknown to one
+unmade by civilization.</p>
+
+<p>The bay of Atuona, narrow between high cliffs covered with
+cocoanut-trees, was the scene of my lessons. The tide came booming
+into this cove from the Bay of Traitors, often with bewildering force,
+and a day or two a month as gently as the waves at Waikiki. The
+river spread a broad mouth to drink the brine, and the white sand
+was over-run by the flowered vines that crept seaward to taste the
+salt. No house was in sight, no man-made structure to mar the
+primitive, as our merry crew of boys and girls sported naked in the
+surf, fished from the rocks, or lay upon the shining beach.</p>
+
+<p>For my first essay I used the lid of a box that had enclosed an
+ornate coffin ordered from Tahiti by a chief who anticipated dying.
+It was large, and weighty to drag or push through the surf to the
+proper distance. Laboring valiantly with it, I reached some distance
+from the shore, and prepared a triumphal return. The waves were big,
+curving above me in sheets of clearest emerald crested with spray,
+breaking into foam and rising again, endlessly reshaping, repeating
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Awaiting my opportunity, I chose one as it rose behind me, and flung
+myself upon it. Up and up and still higher I went, carried by
+resistless momentum, and suddenly like a chip in a hurricane I was
+flung forward at a fearsome speed, through rushing chaos of wind and
+water, seeing the beach dashing toward me, shouting with exultation.</p>
+
+<p>At the next instant my trusty board turned traitor. Its prow sank,
+the end beneath me rose, and like a stone discharged from a sling I
+was thrown under the waves, head over heels, banging my head and
+body on the sand, leaped upon by following waves that piled me into
+shallow water, rolling me over and over, striking me a blow with the
+coffin-lid at every roll.</p>
+
+<p>I lay high and dry, panting and aching, while from all the beach
+rose shouts of laughter. Exploding Eggs rolled on the sand in his
+delight, holding his gasping sides, scarcely able to remind me of
+the necessity, which in my excitement I had forgotten, of keeping
+the prow of the board pointed upward as I rode.</p>
+
+<p>Often as I repeated this instruction in my mind, firmly as I
+determined to remember it while I toiled sea-ward again with the
+coffin-lid, the result was always the same. A moment of rest in the
+unresting waves, a quick, agile spring, a moment of mad,
+intoxicating joy, and then&mdash;disaster. I became a mass of bruises, the
+skin scraped inch by inch from my chest by contact with the rough
+wood. I would not give up until I had to, and then for a week I was
+convalescing.</p>
+
+<p>One stiff ache from head to foot, I lay ignominiously on the sand,
+and watched Exploding Eggs, with a piece of box not bigger than a
+fat man's shirt-front, take wave after wave, standing on the board,
+dashing far across the breakers to the shore, with never a failure,
+while Gedge's little half-breed daughter, a beautiful fairy-like
+creature, darted upon the sea as a butterfly upon a zephyr.</p>
+
+<p>After several weeks of effort and mishap, one day the secret came to
+me like a flash, and the trick was learned. I had been using the
+great board and was weary. I exchanged with Exploding Eggs for a
+plank three feet long and fourteen inches wide. Almost exhausted, I
+waited as usual with the butt of the board against my stomach for
+the incoming breaker to be just behind and above me, and then leaped
+forward to kick out vigorously, the board pressed against me and my
+hands extended along its sides, to get in time with the wave.</p>
+
+<p>But the wave was upon me before I had thought to execute these
+instructions, I straightened myself out rigidly, and lo! I shot in
+like a torpedo on the very top of the billow, holding the point of
+the board up, yelling like a Comanche Indian. So fast, so straight
+did I go, that it was all I could do to swerve in the shallow water
+and not be hurled with force on the sand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Metai! Me metai!</i>&rdquo; cried my friends in excited congratulation,
+while like all men who succeed by accident, I stood proudly, taking
+the plaudits as my due.</p>
+
+<p>From that afternoon I had most exhilarating sport, and indeed, this
+is the very king of amusements for fun and exercise. Skeeing,
+tobogganing, skating, all land sports fade before the thrills of this;
+nor will anything give such abounding health and joy in living as
+surf-riding in sunny seas.</p>
+
+<p>A hundred afternoons on Atuona Bay I spent in this exhilarating
+pastime. To it we added embellishments, multiplying excitements. A
+score of us would start at the same moment from the same line and
+race to shore; we would carry two on a board; we would stand and
+kneel and direct our course so that we could touch a marked spot on
+the beach or curve about and swerve and jostle each other. Exploding
+Eggs was the king of us all, and Teata was queen. She advanced as
+effortlessly as a mermaid, her superb figure shining on the shining
+water, tossing her long black hair, and shrieking with delight.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally we varied these sports by a much more dangerous and
+arduous game. We would push our boards far out in the bay, half a
+mile or more, diving under each wave we faced, until after
+tremendous effort we reached the farthest sea-ward line of breakers.
+Often while I swam, clinging to the board and struggling with the
+waves for its possession, I saw in the emerald water curling above
+me the shadowy shapes of large fish, carried on the crests of the
+combers, transfigured clearly against the sky, fins and heads and
+tails outlined with light.</p>
+
+<p>Once in smoother water we waited for the proper moment, counting the
+foam-crests as they passed. Waves go in multiples of three, the
+third being longer and going farther than the two before it, and the
+ninth, or third third, being strongest of all. This ninth wave we
+waited for. Choosing any other meant being spilled in tumbling water
+when it broke far from land, and falling prey to the succeeding ones,
+which bruised unmercifully.</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr59"></a>
+<a href="images/img59.jpg"><img src="images/thumb59.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Double canoes</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr60"></a>
+<a href="images/img60.jpg"><img src="images/thumb60.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Harbor sports</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But taking the ninth monster at its start, we rode marvelously,
+staying at its summit as it mounted higher and higher, shouting
+above the lesser rollers, until it dashed upon the smooth sand half
+a mile away. Exultation kept the heart in the throat, the pulses
+beating wildly, as the breaker tore its way over the foaming rollers,
+I on the roof of the swell, lying almost over its front wall,
+holding like death to my plank while the wind sang in my ears and
+sky and sea mingled in rushing blueness.</p>
+
+<p>To take such a ride twice in an afternoon taxed my strength, but the
+Marquesan boys and girls were never wearied, and laughed at my
+violent breathing.</p>
+
+<p>The Romans ranked swimming with letters, saying of an uneducated man,
+&ldquo;<i>Nec literas didicit nec natare.</i>&rdquo; He had neither learned to read
+nor to swim. The sea is the book of the South Sea Islanders. They
+swim as they walk, beginning as babies to dive and to frolic in the
+water. Their mothers place them on the river bank at a day old, and
+in a few months they are swimming in shallow water. At two and three
+years they play in the surf, swimming with the easy motion of a frog.
+They have no fear of the water to overcome, for they are accustomed
+to the element from birth, and it is to them as natural as land.</p>
+
+<p>It should be so with all, for human locomotion in water is no more
+tiresome or difficult than on the earth. One element is as suitable
+to man as the other for transportation of himself, when habitude
+give natural movement, strength, and fearlessness. A Marquesan who
+cannot swim is unknown, and they carry objects through the water as
+easily as through a grove. I have seen a woman with an infant at her
+breast leap from a canoe and swim through a quarter of a mile of
+breakers to the shore, merely to save a somewhat longer walk.</p>
+
+<p>One's hours at the beach were not all spent in the water. Many were
+the curious and delicious morsels we found on the rocks that were
+uncovered at low tide, stranded fish, crabs, and small crawling
+shell-fish. One of our favorites was the sea-urchin, called <i>hatuke</i>,
+<i>fetuke</i>, or <i>matuke</i>. Round, as big as a Bartlett pear, with greenish
+spines five or six inches long, they were as hideous to see as they
+were pleasant to eat. In the last quarter of the moon they were
+specially good, though what the moon has to do with their flavor
+neither the Marquesans nor I know. It is so; the Marquesans have
+always known it, and I have proved it.</p>
+
+<p>The spines of these sea-urchins make slate-pencils in some of the
+islands, and are excellent for hastily writing on a nearby cliff a
+message to a friend who is following tardily. The creatures are
+poisonous when alive, however, and revenge a blow of careless hand
+or foot by wounds that are long in healing.</p>
+
+<p>We found lobsters among the rocks, too, and on some beaches a
+strange kind of lobsterish delicacy called in Tahiti <i>varo</i>, a kind
+of mantis-shrimp that looks like a superlatively villainous centipede.
+They grow from six to twelve inches long and a couple of inches wide,
+with legs or feelers all along their sides, like the teeth of a
+pocket-comb. Their shells are translucent yellow with black markings;
+the female wears a red stripe down her back and carries red eggs
+beneath her. Both she and her mate, with their thousand crawling legs,
+their hideous heads and tails, have a most repulsive appearance. If
+one did not know they are excellent food and most innocent in their
+habits, one would flee precipitately at sight of them.</p>
+
+<p>Catching the <i>varo</i> is a delicate and skilful art. They live in the
+shallows near the beach, digging their holes in the sand under two
+or three feet of water. When the wind ruffles the surface, it is
+impossible to see the holes, but on calm days we waded knee-deep in
+the clear water, stepping carefully and peering intently for the
+homes of the sea-centipede. Finding one, we cautiously lowered into
+the hole a spool fitted with a dozen hooks.</p>
+
+<p>A pair of the creatures inhabits the same den. If the male was at
+home, he seized the grapnel and was quickly lifted and captured, the
+hooks being lowered again for the female. But if the female emerged
+first, it was a sure sign that her mate was absent.</p>
+
+<p>I pondered as to this habit of the <i>varo</i>, and would have liked to
+persuade me that the male, being a courteous shrimp, combatted the
+invading hooks first in an effort to protect his mate. But the
+grapnel is baited with fish, and though masculine pride could wish
+that chivalry urged the creature to defend his domestic shrine, it
+appears regrettably certain that he is merely after the bait, to
+which he clings with such selfish obstinacy that he sacrifices his
+liberty and his life. However, the lady soon shows the same grasping
+tendency, and their deserted tenement is filled by the shifting sands.</p>
+
+<p>Catching <i>varo</i> calls for much patience and dexterity. I never
+succeeded in landing one, but Teata would often skip back to the
+sands of the beach with a string of them. Six would make a good meal,
+with bread and wine, and they are most enjoyable hot, though also
+most dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Begin their eating by sucking one cold,&rdquo; warned Exploding Eggs when
+presiding over my first feast upon the twelve-inch centipedes.
+&ldquo;If he does not grip you inwardly, you may then eat them hot and in
+great numbers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Many white men can not eat the <i>varo</i>. Some lose appetite at its
+appearance, its likeness to a gigantic thousand-leg, and others find
+that it rests uneasy within them, as though each claw, or tooth of
+the comb, viciously stabbed their interiors. I found them excellent
+when wrapped in leaves of the <i>hotu</i>-tree and fried in brown butter,
+and they were very good when broiled over a fire on the beach. One
+takes the beastie in his fingers and sucks out the meat. Beginners
+should keep their eyes closed during this operation.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Court day in Atuona; the case of Daughter of the Pigeon and the
+sewing-machine; the story of the perfidy of Drink of Beer and the
+death of Earth Worm who tried to kill the governor.</i></p>
+
+<p>The Marquesan was guaranteed his day in court. There was one judge
+in the archipelago and one doctor, and they were the same, being
+united in the august person of M. L'Hermier des Plantes, who was
+also the pharmacist. The jolly governor, in his twenties, with
+medical experience in an African army post and in barracks in France,
+was irked by his judicial and administrative duties, though little
+troubled by his medical functions, since he had few drugs and knew
+that unless these were swallowed by the patient in his presence they
+would be tried upon the pigs or worn as an amulet around the neck.
+Faithful to his orders, however, the judge sat upon the woolsack
+Saturdays, unless it was raining or he wished to shoot <i>kuku</i>.</p>
+
+<p>One Saturday morning, being invited to breakfast at the palace, I
+strolled down to observe the workings of justice. Court was called
+to order in the archives room of the governor's house. The judge sat
+at a large table, resplendent in army blue and gold, with cavalry
+boots and spurs, his whiskers shining, his demeanor grave and stern.
+Bauda, clerk of the court, sat at his right, and Peterano, a native
+catechist, stood opposite him attired in blue overalls and a
+necklace of small green nuts, ready to act as interpreter.</p>
+
+<p>Each defendant, plaintiff, prisoner, and witness was sworn
+impressively, though no Bible was used; which reminded me that in
+Hongkong I saw a defendant refuse to handle a Bible in court, and
+when the irate English judge demanded his reasons, calmly replied
+that the witness who had just laid down the book had the plague, and
+it was so proved.</p>
+
+<p>The first case was that of a Chinese, member of the Shan-Shan
+syndicate which owned a store in Atuona. He was charged with
+shooting <i>kukus</i> without a license. There were not many of these
+small green doves left in the islands, and the governor, whose
+favorite sport and delicacy they were, was righteously angered at the
+Chinaman's infraction of the law. He fined the culprit twenty dollars,
+and confiscated to the realm the murderous rifle which had aided the
+crime.</p>
+
+<p>The Shan-Shan man was stunned, and expostulated so long that he was
+led out by Flag, the gendarme, after being informed that he might
+appeal to Tahiti. He was forcibly put off the veranda, struggling to
+explain that he had not shot the gun, but had merely carried it as a
+reserve weapon in case he should meet a Chinese with whom he had a
+feud.</p>
+
+<p>A sailor of the schooner <i>Roberta</i>, who had stolen a case of
+absinthe from Captain Capriata's storeroom aboard and destroyed the
+peace of a valley to which he took it as a present to a feminine
+friend, was fined five dollars and sentenced to four months' work on
+the roads.</p>
+
+<p>The criminal docket done, civil cases were called. The barefooted
+bailiff, Flag, stole out on the veranda occasionally to take a
+cigarette from the inhabitants of the valley of Taaoa, who crowded
+the lawn around the veranda steps. All save Kahuiti, they had come
+over the mountains to attend in a body a trial in which two of them
+figured&mdash;the case of Santos vs. Tahiaupehe (Daughter of the Pigeon).</p>
+
+<p>Santos was a small man, born in Guam, and had been ten years in Taaoa,
+having deserted from a ship. He and I talked on the veranda in
+Spanish, and he explained the desperate plight into which love had
+dragged him. He adored Tahaiupehe, the belle of Taaoa. For months he
+had poured at her feet all his earnings, and faithfully he had
+labored at copra-making to gain money for her. He had lavished upon
+her all his material wealth and the fierce passion of his Malay heart,
+only to find her disdainful, untrue, and, at last, a runaway. While
+he was in the forest, he said, climbing cocoanut-trees to provide
+her with luxuries, she had fled his hut, carrying with her a certain
+&ldquo;Singaire&rdquo; and a trunk. He was in court to regain this property.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ben Santos me Tahaiupehe mave! A mai i nei!</i>&rdquo; cried Flag, pompously.
+The pair entered the court, but all others were excluded except me.
+As a distinguished visitor, waiting to breakfast with the judge and
+the clerk, I had a seat.</p>
+
+<p>The Daughter of the Pigeon, comely and voluptuous, wore an
+expression of brazen bitterness such as I have seen on the faces of
+few women. A procuress in Whitechapel and a woman in America who
+had poisoned half a dozen of her kin had that same look; sneering,
+desperate, contemptuous, altogether evil. I wondered what
+experiences had written those lines on the handsome face of Daughter
+of the Pigeon.</p>
+
+<p>Ben Santos was sworn. Through the interpreter he told his sad tale
+of devotion and desertion and asked for his property. The Singaire
+had been bought of the German store. He had bought it that Daughter
+of the Pigeon might mend his garments, since she had refused to do
+so without it. He had not given it to her at all, but allowed her
+the use of it in consideration of &ldquo;love and affection&rdquo; he swore.</p>
+
+<p>Daughter of the Pigeon glared at the unhappy little man with an
+intensity of hatred that alarmed me for his life. She took the stand,
+malevolently handsome in finery of pink tunic, gold ear-rings, and
+necklace of red peppers, barefooted, bare-armed, barbaric. She spat
+out her words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This man made love to me and lived with me. He gave me the
+sewing-machine and the trunk. He is a runt and a pig, and I am tired
+of him. I left his hut and went to the house of my father. I took my
+Singaire and my trunk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ben Santos,&rdquo; inquired the judge, with a critical glance at Daughter
+of the Pigeon, &ldquo;What return did you make to this woman for keeping
+your house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I provided her food and her dresses,&rdquo; stammered the little man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Food hangs from trees, and dresses are a few yards of stuff,&rdquo; said
+the surgical Solomon. &ldquo;The fair ones of the Marquesas do not give
+themselves to men of your plainness for <i>popoi</i> and muslin robes.
+You are a foreigner. You expect too much. The preponderance of
+probability, added to the weight of testimony, causes the court to
+believe that this woman is the real owner of the sewing-machine and
+the trunk. It is so adjudged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>La mujer es una diabola, pero me gusto mucho</i>,&rdquo; said Santos to me,
+and sighed deeply. &ldquo;The woman is a devil, but I like her very much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr61"></a>
+<a href="images/img61.jpg"><img src="images/thumb61.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Tahaiupehe, Daughter of the Pigeon, of Taaoa</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="illustr">
+<a name="illustr62"></a>
+<a href="images/img62.jpg"><img src="images/thumb62.jpg" alt=""></a>
+<p>Nataro Puelleray and wife<br/>
+He is the most learned Marquesan and the only one who knows the language
+and legends thoroughly</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The unfortunate Malay got upon his horse and, his soul deep in the
+swamp of jealousy, departed to resume his copra-making.</p>
+
+<p>Court adjourned. The judge, the clerk, and the interpreter, Daughter
+of the Pigeon, and I toasted the blind goddess in rum, the sun being
+very hot on the iron roof. Bauda and I stayed to breakfast at eleven
+o'clock, and the governor permitted me to look through the <i>dossier</i>
+of Daughter of the Pigeon. This record is kept of all Marquesans or
+others resident in the islands; each governor adds his facts and
+prejudices and each newcoming official finds the history and
+reputation of each of his charges set down for his perusal. In this
+record of Daughter of the Pigeon I found the reason for the
+malevolent character depicted by her face.</p>
+
+<p>The men of the hills have a terrible custom of capturing any woman
+of another valley who goes alone in their district. Grelet's first
+companion was caught one night by forty, who for punishment built
+the ten kilometres of road between Haniapa and Atuona. Many Daughters,
+the beautiful little leper, when thirteen years old was a victim of
+seventeen men, some of whom were imprisoned. Daughter of the Pigeon
+had had a fearful experience of this kind. It had seared her soul,
+and Santos was paying for his sex.</p>
+
+<p>In feud times this custom was a form of retaliation, as the slaying
+of men and eating them. It has survived as a sport. Lest horror
+should spend itself upon these natives of the islands, I mention
+that in every state in our union similar records blacken our history.
+War's pages from the first glimmerings to the last foul moment reek
+with this deviltry. British and French at Badajoz and Tarragona, in
+Spain, left fearful memories. Occident and Orient alike are guilty.
+This crime smutches the chronicle of every invasion. It is part of
+the degradation of slums in all our cities, a sport of hoodlum gangs
+everywhere. In the Marquesas it is a recognized, though forbidden,
+game, and has its retaliatory side. Time was when troops of women
+have revenged it in strange, savage ways.</p>
+
+<p>This unsubmissive and aggressive attitude of Marquesan women was
+brought home to me this very afternoon after the trial, when
+Daughter of the Pigeon came galloping up to my cabin. She reined in
+her horse like a cowboy who had lassoed a steer and, throwing the
+bridle over the branch of an orange-tree, tripped into my living-room,
+where I was writing.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word she put her arms around me, and in a moment I was
+enacting the part of Joseph when he fled from Potiphar's wife. With
+some muscular exertion I got her out of the house at the cost of my
+shirt. Puafaufe (Drink of Beer), a chief of Taaoa, appeared at this
+moment, while I was still struggling with her upon my <i>paepae</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Makimaki okioki i te!</i> An ungovernable creature!&rdquo; he commented,
+shaking his head, and looking on with interest as she again attacked
+me vigorously, to the danger of my remaining shreds of garments.
+Chivalry is not a primitive emotion, but it dies hard in the
+civilized brain, and I was attempting the impossible. Fending her
+off as best I could, I conjured the chief by the red stripe on the
+sleeve of his white jacket, his badge of office, to rescue me, for
+Madame Bapp was now on her <i>paepae</i>, craning her fat neck, and I had
+no mind to be laughed at by my own tint.</p>
+
+<p>The chief, however, maintained the impartial attitude of the
+bystander at a street fight. Smothered in the embraces of Daughter
+of the Pigeon, covered with embarrassment, I struggled and cursed,
+and had desperately decided to fling her bodily over the eight-foot
+wall of the <i>paepae</i> into the jungle, when another arrival dashed up
+the trail. This was the brother of Daughter of the Pigeon.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident that my cabin had been appointed as a rendezvous,
+though I had no acquaintance with any of my three visitors. A
+suspicion was born in my dull brain. To make it surety, I grasped my
+feminine wooer by wrists and throat and thrust her into the arms of
+the chief with a stern injunction to hold her. Then, without hint of
+my intention, I hastened into the house and brought forth the
+demijohn and cocoanut-shells.</p>
+
+<p>The amorous fury of Daughter of the Pigeon melted into gratitude,
+and after two drinks apiece the company galloped away, leaving me to
+repair tattered garments and thank my stars for my supply of <i>namu</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But the end of court-day was not yet. I had barely fallen into my
+first slumber that night when I was awakened by the disconsolate
+Shan-Shan man, who came humbly to present me with a half-pound
+doughnut of his own making, and to beg my intercession with the
+governor for the return of his gun. He reiterated tearfully that he
+had not meant to shoot <i>kukus</i> with it, that he had not done so,
+that he desired it only in order to be able to take a pot-shot at
+the offending countryman in the village. He urged desperately that
+the other Chinese still possessed a gun well oiled and loaded. He
+asserted even with tears that he had all respect and admiration for
+the white man's law. But he wanted his gun, and he wanted it quickly.</p>
+
+<p>I calmed him with the twice-convenient <i>namu</i>, and after promising
+to explain the situation to the governor, I sat for some time on my
+<i>paepae</i> in the moonlight, talking with the unhappy convict.
+Without prompting he divulged to me that my suspicions had been
+correct; Drink of Beer had himself instigated the raid of the bold
+Daughter of the Pigeon upon my rum. Drink of Beer, it appeared, was
+known in the islands for many feats of successful duplicity. One had
+nearly cost the life of Jean Richard, a young Frenchman who worked
+for the German trader in Taka-Uka.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Earth Worm was a man of Taaoa,&rdquo; said my guest, sitting cross-legged
+on my mats, his long-nailed, yellow fingers folded in his lap.
+&ldquo;He was nephew of Pohue-toa, eater of many men. Earth Worm was
+arrested by Drink of Beer and brought before the former governor,
+Lailheugue, known as Little Pig.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Drink of Beer said that Earth Worm had made <i>namu enata</i>, the juice
+of the flower of the palm that makes men mad. Earth Worm swore that
+he had done no wrong. He swore that Drink of Beer had allowed him,
+for a price, to make the <i>namu enata</i>, and that Drink of Beer had
+said this was according to the law. But when he failed to pay again,
+Drink of Beer had arrested him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Drink of Beer said this not true. He wore the red stripe on his
+sleeve; therefore the governor Little Pig said that Earth Worm lied,
+and sent him to prison for a year.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now Earth Worm was an informed man, a son of many chiefs, and
+himself resolved in his ways. He said that he would speak before the
+courts of Tahiti, and he would not go in shame to the prison. At
+this time that governor was finished with his work here and was
+departing on a ship to Tahiti, and Earth Worm with hate in his heart,
+embarked on that ship, saying nothing, but thinking much.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He lived forward with the crew, and said nothing, but thought.
+Others spoke to him, saying that he would not profit by the journey
+to Tahiti where the word of the governor was powerful, but he did
+not reply. The men of the crew wished Earth Worm to kill the governor,
+for every Marquesan hated him, and he had done a terrible thing for
+which he deserved death.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There had been an aged gendarme who fell ill because of a curse
+laid on him by a <i>tahuna</i>. He was dying. This governor took from his
+box in the house of medicines a sharp small knife, and with it he
+cut the veins of a Marquesan who had done some small wrong against
+the law and lay in jail. He bound this man by the arm to the
+gendarme who was dying, and through the cut the blood ran into the
+gendarme's veins. His heart sucked the blood from the body of the
+Marquesan like a vampire bat of the forest, and he lay bound, feeling
+the blood go from him. The village knew that this was being done,
+and could do nothing but hate and fear, for it was the governor who
+had done it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The gendarme died, and you may yet see on the beach sometimes that
+man who was a strong and brave Marquesan. He trembles now like
+<i>hotu</i> leaves in the wind, for he never forgets the terrible magic
+done upon him by that governor. He remembers the hours when he lay
+bound to that man who was dying, and the dying man sucked his blood
+from him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now this governor was on the ship going away, and he had not been
+killed. This made all Marquesans sad, and those in the crew talked
+to Earth Worm, who had also been wronged, and urged him to rise and
+strike. But he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The ship came to the Paumotas, and the governor sat all day long on
+a stool on the deck, watching the islands as they passed. Earth Worm
+sat in his place, watching the governor. One night at dark he rose,
+and taking an iron rod laid beside him by one of the crew he crept
+along the deck and stood behind the man on the stool. He raised the
+iron rod and brought it down with fury upon the head of that man,
+who fell covered with blood. Then he leaped into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the governor had gone below, and it was Jean Richard who sat on
+the stool in the darkness. He was found bleeding upon the deck, and
+the bones of his head were cut and lifted and patched, so that
+to-day he lives, as well as ever. Earth Worm was never found. A boat
+with a lantern was lowered, but it found nothing but the fins of
+sharks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was the work of Drink of Beer, who had hated Earth Worm
+because he was a brave and strong man of Taaoa. When this was told
+to Drink of Beer, he smiled and said, &lsquo;Earth Worm is safer where he
+is.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have talked too much. Your rum is very good. I thank you for your
+kindness. You will not forget to deign to speak to the governor
+concerning the matter of the gun?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I promised that I would not forget, and after a prolonged
+leavetaking the Shan-Shan man slipped silently down the trail and
+vanished in the moon-lit forest.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The madman Great Moth of the Night; story of the famine and the one
+family that ate pig.</i></p>
+
+<p>Le Brunnec, the trader, was opening a roll of Tahiti tobacco five
+feet long, five inches in diameter at the center, and tapering
+toward the ends. It was bound, as is all Tahiti tobacco, in a
+<i>purau</i> rope, which had to be unwound and which weighed two pounds.
+The eleven pounds of tobacco were hard as wood, the leaves cemented
+by moisture. Le Brunnec hacked it with an axe into suitable portions
+to sell for three francs a pound, the profit on which is a franc.</p>
+
+<p>The immediate customer was Tavatini (Many Pieces of Tattooing), a
+rich man of Taaoa, in his fifties. His face was grilled with <i>ama</i>
+ink. One streak of the natural skin alone remained. Beside him on
+the counter sat a commanding-looking man, whose eyes, shining from a
+blue background of tattooing, were signals to make one step aside
+did one meet him on the trail. They had madness in them, but they
+were a revelation of wickedness.</p>
+
+<p>Some men, without a word or gesture, make you think intently. There
+is that in their appearance which starts a train of ideas, of wonder,
+of guesses at their past, of horror at what is written upon their
+faces. This man's visage was seamed and wrinkled in a network of
+lines that said more plainly than words that he was a monster whose
+villainies would chill imagination. The brain was a spoiled machine,
+but it had been all for evil.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That man,&rdquo; said Le Brunnec, &ldquo;is the worst devil in the Marquesas.&rdquo;
+Between blows of the axe, the trader told me something of his history:</p>
+
+<p>The madman was Mohuho, whose name means Great Moth of the Night. He
+is the chief whom Lying Bill saw shoot three men in Tahuata for
+sheer wantonness. He was then chief of Tahuata, and the power in that
+island, in Hiva-oa and Fatu-hiva. He slew every one who opposed him.
+He was the scourge of the islands. He harried valley after valley
+for lust of blood and the terrible pride of the destroyer. It was
+his boast that he had killed sixty people by his own hand, otherwise
+than in battle.</p>
+
+<p>He was a man of ceaseless energy, a builder of roads, of houses, and
+canoes. At Hapatone he had constructed several miles of excellent
+road with the enforced labor of every man in the valley for a year.
+It is all lined with <i>temanu</i> trees, is almost solid stone, and
+endures. Its blocks are cemented with blood, for Great Moth of the
+Night drove men to the work with bullets.</p>
+
+<p>His arsenal was stocked by the French, whose ally he was, and to
+whom he was very useful in furnishing men for work and in upholding
+French supremacy. In Hapatone he was virtually a king, and the fear
+of him extended throughout the southern Marquesas.</p>
+
+<p>One day he came as a guest to a feast in Taaoa. There was a blind man,
+a poor, harmless fellow, who was eating the pig and <i>popoi</i> and
+saying nothing. Great Night Moth had a new gun, which he laid beside
+him while he drank plentifully of the <i>namu enata</i>, until he became
+quite drunk.</p>
+
+<p>At last the blind man, scared by his threats, started to walk away
+in the slow, halting way of the sightless, and attracted Great Night
+Moth's attention. He picked up his new gun and while all were
+petrified with fear of being the target, he shot the blind man so
+that his body fell into the oven in which the pig had been baked. The
+people could only laugh loudly, if not heartily, as if pleased by
+the joke.</p>
+
+<p>In Hana-teio a man in a cocoanut-tree gathering nuts was ordered to
+come down by Great Night Moth who was passing on a boar hunt. The
+man became confused. His limbs did not cling to the tree as usual.
+He was fearful and could make no motion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Poponohoo! Ve mai! A haa tata!</i> Come down quickly!&rdquo; yelled the
+chief.</p>
+
+<p>The poor wretch could not obey. He saw the gun and knew the chief.
+Great Night Moth brought him down a corpse.</p>
+
+<p>There was no punishment for him. The French held him accountable
+only for deeds against their sovereignty. A superstition that he was
+protected by the gods, combined with his strength and desperate
+courage, made him immune from vengeance by the islanders.</p>
+
+<p>These were incidents Le Brunnec knew from witnesses, but it was Many
+Pieces of Tattooing who told the ancestry of Great Night Moth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pohue-toa (Male Package) uncle of Earth Worm, was prince of Taaoa
+and father of this man,&rdquo; said Many Pieces. &ldquo;He was one of the
+biggest men of these islands, and the strongest in Taaoa. He lived
+for a while in Hana-menu.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was no war then between the valley of Atuona and that of
+Hana-menu; the people of both crossed the mountains and visited one
+another. But it was discovered in Atuona that a number of the people
+were missing. Some had gone to Hana-menu and never reached there,
+others had disappeared on their way home. The chief of Atuona sent a
+messenger who was <i>tapu</i> in all valleys, to count the people of this
+valley who were in Hana-menu and to warn them to return in a band,
+armed with spears. Meanwhile the priest went to the High Place and
+spoke to the gods, and after two days and nights he returned and
+said that the danger was at the pass between the valleys; that a
+demon had seized the people there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The demon was Male Package. You know the precipice there is near
+the sky, and at the very height is a <i>puta faiti</i>, a narrow place.
+There Male Package lay in wait, armed with his spear and club, and
+hidden in the grass. He was hungry for meat, for Long Pig, and when
+he saw some one he fancied, he threw his spear or struck them down
+with the <i>u'u</i>. He took the corpse on his back and carried it to his
+hut in the upper valley of Hana-menu as I would carry a sack of copra.
+There he ate what he would, alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, there were those who knew, but they were afraid to tell. After
+it became known to the people of Atuona, to the kin of those who had
+been eaten, they did nothing. Male Package was like Great Night Moth
+later&mdash;a man whom the gods fought for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Great Night Moth sat smoking, listening to what was said in the
+listless way that lunatics listen, unable to focus his attention,
+but gathering in his addled brain that he was being discussed. I
+watched him as one does a caged tiger, guessing at the beast's
+thoughts and thankful that it can prey no more.</p>
+
+<p>Many Pieces of Tattooing had no tone of horror or regret in his
+voice while he recounted the bloody deeds of Mohuho and Pohue-toa,
+but smiled, as if he would say that they had occurred under a
+different dispensation and were not blameful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was Great Night Moth the real son of Male Package?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that is to be told,&rdquo; said Many Pieces. &ldquo;He was his son, yes.
+Shall I tell you the tale of how he escaped death at the hands of
+his father? <i>Ea!</i> I remember the time well. Menike, you have seen
+the rivers big and the cocoanut-trees felled by the flood, but you
+have not seen the <i>ave one</i>, the time of no food, when the ground is
+as dry as the center of a dead tree, and hunger is in the valleys
+like the ghost-women that move as mist. There have been many such
+periods for the island peoples.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That two years it did not rain. The breadfruit would not yield. The
+grass and plants died. There were no nuts on the palms. The pigs had
+no food, and fell in the forest. The banana-trees withered. The
+people ate the <i>popoi</i> from the deepest pits, and day and night they
+fished. Soon the pits were empty and the people ate roots, bark,
+anything. There were fish, but it is hard to live on fish alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some lay in their canoes and ate the <i>eva</i> and died. The stomachs
+of some became empty of thought, and they threw themselves into the
+sea. The father of Great Night Moth sent all his children to the
+hills. There is always more rain there, and there was some food to be
+found. His wife he kept at the fishing, day and night, till she
+slept at the paddle, and he himself went to the high plateaus to
+hunt for pig.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For many days he came down weak, having found none. But at last she
+came to find baked meat ready for her, and she wept and ate and
+thanked him. He had found a certain green spot, he said, where there
+were more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Many times he brought the meat to her, and she said that the
+children should come back to share the food, but he said, &lsquo;No. Eat!
+They have plenty.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She came from the fishing one day with empty baskets. The sea had
+been rough, and there were no fish. Her husband had become a surly
+man, and cruel; he beat her. She said, &lsquo;Is there no pig?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Pig, you fool!&rsquo; said her husband. &lsquo;You have eaten no pig. You have
+eaten your children. They are all dead.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Great Night Moth had escaped because he had been adopted by the
+chief of Taaoa, while his father was hunting the children in the
+forest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is horrible, horrible!&rdquo; said Le Brunnec. &ldquo;Maybe this Great
+Night Moth could not but be bad with such a father. All these chiefs,
+the hereditary ones, are rotten. Their children are often insane.
+They have degenerated. After the whalers came and gave them whiskey,
+and the traders absinthe and drugs, they learned the vices of the
+white man, which are worse for them than for us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think the eating of men began by the <i>ave one</i>, the famine?&rdquo;
+I put the question to Many Pieces of Tattooing, who was about to
+leave the store with Great Night Moth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ae, tiatohu!</i> It is so,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Our legends say that often
+in the many centuries we have remembered there have been years when
+food failed. It was in those times that they began to eat one another,
+and when food was plenty, they continued for revenge. They learned
+to like it. Human meat is good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ask the gentleman if he has himself enjoyed such feasts,&rdquo; I urged
+Le Brunnec.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will not!&rdquo; said the Frenchman, hastily. &ldquo;Tavatini is a good
+customer. He has money on deposit with me. He eats biscuits and beef.
+He might be offended and buy of the Germans.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Many Pieces of Tattooing nudged Great Night Moth, and they advanced
+to their horses, which were tied to the store building. The madman
+mounted with the ease of a cowboy, and they rode off at speed.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap37"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>A visit to the hermit of Taha-Uka valley; the vengeance that made the
+Scallamera lepers; and the hatred of Mohuto.</i></p>
+
+<p>Le Verogose, a Breton planter who lived in Taka-Uka Valley, was full
+of <i>camaraderie</i>, esteeming friendship a genuine tie, and given to
+many friendly impulses. He had a two-room cabin set high on the
+slope of the river bank, unadorned, but clean, and though his busy,
+hardworking days gave him little time for social intercourse, he
+occasionally invited me there to dinner with him and his wife.</p>
+
+<p>One Sunday he dined me handsomely on eels stewed in white wine, tame
+duck, and codfish balls, and after the dance, in which his wife,
+Ghost Girl, Malicious Gossip, Water, and the host joined, we sat for
+some time singing &ldquo;Malbrouck se va t'en guerre,&rdquo; &ldquo;La Carmagnole,&rdquo;
+and other songs of France. Stirred by the memories of home, these
+melodies awakened, Le Vergose remembered a countryman who lived
+nearby.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is a hermit who lives a thousand feet up the valley,&rdquo; said he.
+&ldquo;We might take him half a litre of rum. He is a Breton of Brest who
+has been here many years. He eats nothing but bananas, for he lives
+in a banana grove, and he is able only to totter to the river for
+water. He never moves from his little hut except to pick a few
+bananas. He lives alone. Hardly any one sees him from year to year.
+I think he would be glad to have a visitor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A wet and slippery trail through the forest along the river bank led
+toward the hermit's grove. Toiling up it, sliding and clutching the
+boughs that overhung and almost obliterated it, we passed a small
+native house of straw, almost hidden by the trees, and were hailed
+by the voice of a woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I hea?</i> Where do you go?&rdquo; The words were sharp, with a tone almost
+of anxiety, of fear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We go to see Hemeury Francois,&rdquo; replied Le Vergose.</p>
+
+<p>The woman who had spoken came half-way down the worn and dirty steps
+of her <i>paepae</i>. She was old, but with an age more of bitter and
+devastating emotion than of years. Her haggard face, drawn and
+seamed with cruel lines, showed still the traces of a beauty that had
+been hard and handsome rather than lovely. She said nothing more,
+but stood watching our progress, her tall figure absolutely
+motionless in its dark tunic, her eyes curiously intent upon us. I
+felt relief when the thick curtains of leaves shut us from her view.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is Mohuto,&rdquo; said Le Vergose. &ldquo;She is a solitary, too. All her
+people have died, and she has become hard and bitter. That is a
+strange thing, for an islander. But she was beautiful once. Perhaps
+she broods upon that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We entered the banana-grove, an acre or two of huge plants, thirty
+feet high, so close together that the sun could not touch the soil.
+The earth was dank and dark, almost a swamp, and the trees were like
+yellowish-green ghosts in the gloom. Their great soft leaves shut out
+the sky, and from their limp edges there was a ceaseless drip of
+moisture. A horde of mosquitos, black and small, emerged from the
+shadows, thousands upon thousands, and smote us upon every exposed
+part. In a few minutes our faces were smeared with blood from their
+killing. Curses in Breton, in Marquesan, and American rent the
+stillness.</p>
+
+<p>In this dismal, noisome spot was a wretched hut built of <i>purau</i>
+saplings, as crude a dwelling as the shelter a trapper builds for a
+few days' habitation. It was ten feet long and four wide, shaky and
+rotten. Inside it was like the lair of a wild beast, a bed of moldy
+leaves. A line stretched just below the thatched roof held a few
+discolored newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>On the heap of leaves sat the remnant of a man, a crooked skeleton
+in dirty rags, his face a parchment of wrinkles framed by a mass of
+whitening hair. He looked ages old, his eyes small holes, red rimmed,
+his hands, in which he held a shaking piece of paper, foul claws.
+His flesh, through his rags, was the deadly white of the morgue. He
+looked a Thing no soul should animate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Hemeury Francois,&rdquo; said Le Vergose in the Breton dialect that
+recalled their childhood home, &ldquo;I have brought an American to see you.
+You can talk your English to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By damn, yes,&rdquo; croaked the hermit, in the voice of a raven loosed
+from a deserted house. But he made no movement until Le Vergose held
+before his bone-like nose a pint of strong Tahiti rum. Far back in
+his eyes, away beyond the visible organs, there came a gleam of
+greater consciousness, a realization of life around him. His mouth,
+like a rent in an old, battered purse, gaped, and though no teeth
+were there, the vacuity seemed to smile feebly.</p>
+
+<p>He felt about the litter of paper and leaves and found a dirty
+cocoanut-shell and a calabash of water. Shaking and gasping, he
+poured the bottle of rum into the shell, mixed water with it and
+lifted the precious elixir tremblingly to his lips. He made two
+choking swallows, and dropped the shell&mdash;empty.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes, that had been lost in their raw sockets, scanned me. Then
+in mixed French and English he began to talk of himself. From his
+rags he produced a rude diary blocked off on scraps of paper, a
+minute record of the river and the weather, covering many years.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Torrent, torrent, torrent.&rdquo; That word was repeated many tunes.
+<i>Hause</i> appeared often, signifying that the brook had risen. Every
+day he had noted its state. The river had become his god. Alone among
+those shadowing, dripping banana-plants, with no human companionship,
+he had made his study of the moods of the stream a worship. Pages
+and pages were inscribed with lines upon its state.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bacchus,&rdquo; I saw repeated on the dates July 13, 14, 15.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Another god on the altar then?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;<i>Mais, oui</i>,&rdquo; he answered
+in his rusty voice. &ldquo;The Fall of the Bastile. Le Vergose sent me a
+bottle of rum to honor the Republic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>What he had just drunk was seething in him. Little by little he
+commanded that long disused throat, he recalled from the depths of
+his uncertain mind words and phrases. In short, jerky sentences,
+mostly French, he spun his tale.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brest is my home, in Finnistere. I have been many years in these
+seas. I forget how many. How many years&mdash;? <i>Sacré!</i> I was on the
+<i>Mongol</i>. She was two thousand tons, clipper, and with skysails.
+The captain was Freeman. We brought coals from Boston to San
+Francisco. That was long ago. I was young. I was young and handsome.
+And strong. Yes, I was strong and young.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was it&mdash;the <i>Mongol</i>. A clipper-ship from Boston, two thousand
+tons, and with skysails. Around the Horn it almost blew the sticks
+out of that <i>Mongol</i>. We froze; we worked day and night. It was
+terrible. The seas almost drowned us. Ah, how we cursed! <i>Tonnerre
+de dieu!</i> Had we known it we were in Paradise. The inferno&mdash;we were
+coming to the inferno.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It took him long to tell it. He wanted to talk, but weakness
+overcame him often, and the words were almost hushed by his breath
+that came short and wheezing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One day we opened the hatches to get coal for the galley. The smell
+of gas arose. The coal was making gas. No fire. Just gas. If there
+was fire we never knew it. We felt no heat. We could find no fire.
+But every day the gas got worse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It filled the ship. The watch below could not sleep because of it.
+If we went aloft, still we smelled it. The food tasted of gas. Our
+lungs were pressed down by it. Day after day we sailed, and the gas
+sailed with us.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The bo'sn fell in a fit. A man on the t'gallant yard fell to the
+deck and was killed. Three did not awake one morning. We threw their
+bodies over the side. The mate spat blood and called on God as he
+leaped into the sea. The smell of the gas never left us.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The captain called us by the poop-rail, and said we must abandon
+the ship any time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We were twenty men all told. We had four whale-boats and a yawl.
+Plenty for all of us. We provisioned and watered the boats. But we
+stayed by the <i>Mongol</i>. We were far from any port and we dared not
+go adrift in open boats.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then came a calm. The gas could not lift. It settled down on us. It
+lay on us like a weight. It never left us for a moment. Men lay in
+the scuppers and vomited. Food went untouched. No man could walk
+without staggering. At last we took to the boats. Two thousand miles
+from the Marquesas. We lit a fuse, and pushed off. Half a mile away
+the <i>Mongol</i> blew up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We suffered. <i>Mon dieu</i>, how we suffered in those boats! But the
+gas was gone. We struck Vait-hua on the island of Tahuata. It was
+heaven. Rivers and trees and women. Women! <i>Sacré!</i> How I loved them!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I came to Taha-Uka with Mathieu Scallamera. We worked for Captain
+Hart in the cotton, driving the Chinese and natives. Bill Pincher
+was a boy, and he worked there, too. In the moonlight on the beach
+there were dances. The women danced naked on the beaches in the
+moonlight. And there was rum. Mohuto danced. Ah, she was beautiful,
+beautiful! She was a devil.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Scallamera and I built a house, and put on the door a lock of wood.
+It was a big lock, but it had no key. The natives stole everything.
+We could keep nothing. Scallamera was angry. One day he hid in the
+house while I went to work. When a hand was thrust through the
+opening to undo the lock, Scallamera took his brush knife and cut it
+off. He threw it through the hole and said, &lsquo;That will steal no more.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The hermit laughed, a laugh like the snarl of a toothless old tiger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was a joke. Scallamera laughed. By gar! But that without a
+hand lived long. He gave back all that he had taken. He smiled at
+Scallamera, and laughed, too. He worked without pay for Scallamera.
+He became a friend to the man who had cut off his hand. A year went
+by and two years and three and that man gave Scallamera a piece of
+land by Vai-ae. He helped Scallamera to build a house upon it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Land from hell it was, land cursed seven times. Did not Scallamera
+become a leper and die of it horribly? And all his twelve children
+by that Henriette? It was the ground. It had been leprous since the
+Chinese came. Oh, it was a fine return for the cut-off hand!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Gasping and choking, the ghastly creature paused for breath, and in
+the shuddering silence the banana-leaves ceaselessly dripped, and
+the hum of innumerable mosquito-wings was sharp and thin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not become a leper. I was young and strong. I was never sick.
+I worked all day, and at night I was with the women. Ah, the
+beautiful, beautiful women! With souls of fiends from hell. Mohuto
+is not dead yet. She lives too long. She lives and sits on the path
+below, and watches. She should be killed, but I have no strength.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was young and strong, and loved too many women. How could I know
+the devil behind her eyes when she came wooing me again? I had left
+her. She was with child, and ugly. I loved beautiful women. But she
+was beautiful again when the child was dead. I was with another.
+What was her name? I have forgotten her name. Is there no more rum?
+I remember when I have rum.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I went again to Mohuto. The devil from hell! There was poison in
+her embraces. Why does she not die? She knew too much. She was too
+wise. It was I who died. No, I did not die. I became old before my
+time, but I am living yet. The Catholic mission gave me this land. I
+planted bananas. I have never been away. How long ago? <i>Je ne sais
+pas.</i> Twenty years? Forty? I do not see any one. But I know that
+Mohuto sits on the path below and waits. I will live long yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was like a two-days' old corpse. He rose to his feet, staggered,
+and lay down on the heap of soggy leaves. The mosquitos circled in
+swarms above him. They were devouring us, but the hermit they never
+lighted on. Le Vergose and I fled from the hut and the grove.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is an example like those in Balzac or the religious books,&rdquo; said
+the Breton, crossing himself. &ldquo;I have been here many years, and
+never before did I come here, and again. <i>Jamais de la vie!</i> I must
+begin to go to church again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We said nothing more as we slid and slipped downward on the wet trail,
+but when we came again to the straw hut hidden in the trees Mohuto
+was still on the <i>paepae</i>, watching us, and I paused to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You knew Hemeury Francois when he was young?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put her hand over her eyes, and spat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was my first lover. I had a child by him. He was handsome once.&rdquo;
+Her eyes, full of malevolence, turned to the dark grove. &ldquo;He dies
+very slowly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The memory of her face was with me when at midnight I went alone to
+my valley. On my pillows I heard again the cracked voice of the
+hermit, and saw the blue-white skin upon his shaking bones. He could
+not believe in Po, the Marquesan god of Darkness, or in the <i>Veinehae</i>,
+the Ghost-Woman who watches the dying; nor did I believe in them or
+in Satan, but about me in my Golden Bed until midnight was long past
+the spirits that hate the light moaned and creaked the hut.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap38"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>Last days in Atuona; My Darling Hope's letter from her son.</i></p>
+
+<p>Exploding Eggs was building my fire of cocoanut-husks as usual in
+the morning to cook my coffee and eggs, when a whistle split the
+sultry air. Far from the bay it came, shrill and demanding; my call
+to civilization.</p>
+
+<p>Long expected, the first liner was in the Isles of the Cannibals.
+France had begun to make good her promise to expand her trade in
+Oceania, and the isolation of the dying Marquesans and empty valleys
+was ended. The steamship <i>Saint François</i>, from Bordeaux by way of
+Tahiti, had come to visit this group and pick up cargo for Papeite
+and French ports.</p>
+
+<p>Strange was the sight of her in Taha-Uka Bay where never her like
+had been, but stranger still, two aboard her, the only two not French,
+were known to me. Here thousands of miles from where I had seen them,
+unconnected in any way with each other, were a pair of human beings
+I had known, one in China, and the other in the United States, both
+American citizens, and sent by fate to replace me as objects of
+interest to the natives.</p>
+
+<p>They came up from the beach together, one a small black man, the
+other tall and golden brown, led by Malicious Gossip to see the
+American who lived in these far-away islands. The black lingered to
+talk at a distance, but the golden-brown one advanced.</p>
+
+<p>His figure was the bulky one of the trained athlete, stocky and
+tremendously powerful, his hide that of an extreme blond burned by
+months of a tropic sun upon salt water. His hair was an aureole,
+yellow as a sunflower, a bush of it on a bullet-head. And, incredible
+almost&mdash;as if made of putty by a joker&mdash;his nose stuck out like the
+first joint of a thumb, the oddest nose ever on a man. His little
+eyes were blue and bright. Barefooted, bare-headed, in the
+sleeveless shirt and short trousers of a life-guard, with an
+embroidered V on the front of the upper garment, he was radiantly
+healthy and happy, a civilized being returned to nature's ways.</p>
+
+<p>Though he did not recognize me, I knew him instantly for a trainer
+and beach-patrol of Southern California, a diver for planted shells
+at Catalina Island, whom I had first seen plunging from the rafters
+of a swimming-tank, and I remembered that he had flattened his nose
+by striking the bottom, and that a skilful surgeon had saved him its
+remnant.</p>
+
+<p>He had with him a bundle in a towel, and setting it down on my
+<i>paepae</i>, introduced himself nonchalantly as Broken Bronck,
+&ldquo;Late manager of the stable of native fighters of the Count de
+M&mdash;&mdash; of the island of Tahaa, near Tahiti.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm here to stay,&rdquo; he said carelessly. &ldquo;I have a few francs, and I
+hear they're pretty hospitable in the Markeesies. I came on the deck
+of the <i>Saint François</i>, and I've brung my things ashore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He undid the towel, and there rolled out another bathing-suit and a
+set of boxing gloves. These were his sole possessions, he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hear they're nutty on prizefighting like in Tahiti, and I'll
+teach 'em boxing,&rdquo; he explained.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquesan ladies who speedily assembled could not take their
+eyes from him. They asked me a score of questions about him, and
+were not surprised that I knew him, or even that I called the negro
+by name when he sauntered up. We must all be from the same valley,
+or at least from the same island, they thought, for were we not all
+Americans?</p>
+
+<p>I kept Broken Bronck to luncheon, and gave him what few household
+furnishings I had not promised to Exploding Eggs or to Apporo, who
+with the promise of the Golden Bed about to be realized&mdash;for I
+announced my going&mdash;camped upon it, hardly believing that at last
+she was to own the coveted marvel. Some keepsakes I gave to
+Malicious Gossip, Mouth of God, Many Daughters, Water, Titihuti, and
+others, and drank a last shell of <i>namu</i> with these friends.</p>
+
+<p>News of my packing reached far and wide. I had not estimated so
+optimistically the esteem in which they held me, these companions of
+many months, but they trooped from the farthest hills to say farewell.
+Good-byes even to the sons and daughters of cannibals are sorrowful.
+I had come to think much of these simple, savage neighbors. Some of
+them I shall never forget.</p>
+
+<p>Mauitetai, a middle-aged woman with a kindly face, was long on my
+<i>paepae</i>. Her name would be in English My Darling Hope, and it
+well fitted her mood, for she was all aglow with wonder and joy at
+receiving a letter from her son, who three years before had gone
+upon a ship and disappeared from her ken. The letter had come upon
+the <i>Saint François</i>, and it brought My Darling Hope into intimate
+relations with me, for I uncovered to her that her wandering boy had
+become a resident of my own country, and revealed some of the
+mysteries of our polity.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was in Marquesan, which I translate into English, seeking
+to keep the flavor of the original, though poorly succeeding:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I write to you, me, Pahorai Calizte, and put on this paper
+greetings to you, my mother, Mauitetai, who are in Atuona.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Kaoha nui tuu kui</i>, Mauitetai, mother of me. Great love to you.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have found in Philadelphia work for me; good work.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have found a woman for me. She is Jeanette, an artist, a maker of
+tattooings on cloth. I am very happy. I have found a house to live in.
+I am happy I have this woman. She is rich. I am poor. It is for that
+I write to you, to make it known to you that she is rich, and I am
+poor. By this paper you will know that I have pledged my word to
+this woman. I found her and I won her by my work and by my strength
+and my endeavor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is <i>moi kanahau</i>; as beautiful as the flowers of the <i>hutu</i> in
+my own beloved valley of Atuona. She is not of America. She is of
+Chile. She has paid many piasters for the coming here. She has paid
+forty piasters. She has been at home in Las Palmas, in the islands
+of small golden birds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will write you more in this paper. I seek your permission to
+marry Jeanette. She asks it, as I do. Send me your word by the
+government that carries words on paper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is three years since I have known of you. That is long.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me that word I ask for this woman. I cannot go to marry in
+Atuona. That is what my heart wants, but it is far and the money is
+great. The woman would pay and would come with me. I say no. I am
+proud. I have shame. I am a Marquesan.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I live with that woman now. I am not married. It is forbidden. The
+American <i>mutoi</i> (policeman) may take hold of me. Five months I am
+with this woman of mine. The <i>mutoi</i> has a war-club that is hard as
+stone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me quickly the paper to marry her. I await your word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My word is done. I am at Philadelphia, New York Hotel. A.P.A. Dieu.
+Coot pae, mama.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Mauitetai had read the letter many times. It was wonderful to hear
+from her son after three years and pleasant to know he had found a
+woman. She must be a <i>haoe</i>, a white woman. Were the women of that
+island, Chile, white?</p>
+
+<p>I said that they ran the color scale, from blond to brown, from
+European to Indian, but that this Jeanette who was a tattooer, a
+maker of pictures on canvas, no doubt an artist of merit, must be
+pale as a moonbeam. Those red peppers that were hot on the tongue
+came from Chile, I said, and there were heaps of gold there in the
+mountains.</p>
+
+<p>My Darling Hope would know what kind of a valley was Philadelphia.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Valley of Brotherly Love. It was a very big valley, with
+two streams, and a bay. No, it was not near Tahiti. It was a
+breadfruit season away from Atuona, at the very least.</p>
+
+<p>What could a hotel be? The New York hotel in which her poor son lived?</p>
+
+<p>I did not know that hotel, I told her, but a hotel was a house in
+which many persons paid to live, and some hotels had more rooms than
+there were houses in all the Marquesas.</p>
+
+<p>What! In one house, under one roof? By my tribe, it was true.</p>
+
+<p>Did I know this woman? I was from that island and I had been in that
+valley. I must have seen her.</p>
+
+<p>I replied that I knew a Jeanette who answered the description
+beautiful, but that she was not from Chile.</p>
+
+<p>Now, My Darling Hope knit her brow. Why would the <i>mutoi</i> take hold
+of her son, as he feared?</p>
+
+<p>I soothed her anxiety. The <i>mutoi</i> walked up and down in front of
+the hotel, but he would not bother her son as long as her son could
+get a few piasters now and then to hand to him. The woman was rich,
+and would not miss a trifling sum, five or ten piasters a month for
+the <i>mutoi</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But why was it forbidden for her son to live with Jeanette, being
+not married to her?</p>
+
+<p>That was our law, but it was seldom enforced. The <i>mutois</i> were fat
+men who carried war-clubs and struck the poor with them, but her son
+was <i>tapu</i> because of Jeanette's money.</p>
+
+<p>She was at ease now, she said. Her son could not marry without her
+permission. No Marquesan had ever done so. She would send the word
+by the next schooner, or I might take it with me to my own island
+and hand it to her son. He could then marry.</p>
+
+<p>I had done her a great kindness, but one thing more. Neither she nor
+Titihuti nor Water could make out what Pahorai Calizte meant by
+&ldquo;Coot Pae, Mama.&rdquo; &ldquo;A.P.A. Dieu.&rdquo; was his commendation of her to God,
+but <i>Coot Pae</i> was not Marquesan, neither was it French. She
+pronounced the words in the Marquesan way, and I knew at once.
+<i>Coot pae</i> is pronounced Coot Pye, and Coot Pye was Pahorai
+Calizte's way of imitating the American for <i>Apae Kaoha</i>. &ldquo;Good-by,
+mama,&rdquo; was his quite Philadelphia closing of his letter to his mother.</p>
+
+<p>I addressed an envelop to her son with The Iron Fingers That Make
+Words, and gave it to My Darling Hope. A tear came in her eye. She
+rubbed my bare back affectionately and caressed my nose with hers as
+she smelled me solemnly. Then she went up the valley to enlighten
+the hill people.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><h4><a name="chap39"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h4>
+
+<p class="invent"><i>The chants of departure; night falls on the Land of the War Fleet.</i></p>
+
+<p>On the eve of my going all the youth and beauty of Atuona crowded my
+<i>paepae</i>. Water brought his <i>ukulele</i>, a Hawaiian <i>taro</i>-patch
+guitar, and sang his repertoire of ballads of Hawaii&mdash;&ldquo;Aloha Oe,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Hawaii Ponoi,&rdquo; and &ldquo;One, Two, Three, Four.&rdquo; Urged by all, I gave
+them for the last time my vocal masterpiece, &ldquo;All Night Long He
+Calls Her Snooky-Ukums!&rdquo; and was rewarded by a clamor of applauding
+cries. Marquesans think our singing strange&mdash;and no wonder! Theirs
+is a prolonged chant, a monotone without tune, with no high notes
+and little variance. But loving distraction, they listened with deep
+amusement to my rendering of American airs, as we might listen to
+Chinese falsettos.</p>
+
+<p>They repaid me by reciting legends of their clans, and Titihuti
+chanted her genealogy, a record kept by memory in all families. Water,
+her son, who had learned to write, set it down on paper for me. It
+named the ancestors in pairs, father and mother, and Titihuti
+remembered thirty-eight generations, which covered perhaps a
+thousand years.</p>
+
+<p>We sat in a respectful circle about her while she chanted it. An
+Amazon in height and weight, nearly six feet tall, body and head
+cast in heroic mold, she stood erect, her scarlet tunic gathered to
+display her symmetrical legs, tattooed in thought-kindling patterns,
+the feet and ankles as if encased in elegant Oriental sandals. Her
+red-gold hair, a flame in the flickering light of the torches, was
+wreathed with bright-green, glossy leaves, necklaces of peppers and
+small colored nuts rose and fell with her deep breathing.</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was melodious, pitched low, and vibrating with the
+peculiar tone of the chant, a tone impossible of imitation to one
+who has not learned it as a child. Her eyes were kindled with pride
+of ancestry as she called the roll of experiences and achievements
+of the line that had bred her, and her clear-cut Greek features
+mirrored every emotion she felt, emotions of glory and pride, of
+sorrow and abasement at the fall of her race, of stoic fortitude in
+the dull present and hopeless future of her people. With one shapely
+arm upraised, she uttered the names, trumpet-calls to memory and
+imagination:</p>
+
+<table>
+<tr><td><b>Enata (Men)</b></td>           <td><b>Vehine (Women)</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Na tupa efitu</td>         <td>Metui te vehine</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tupa oa ia fai</td>        <td>Puha Momoo</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O tupa haaituani</td>      <td>O haiko</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O nuku</td>                <td>Oui aei</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O hutu</td>                <td>Moeakau</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O oko</td>                 <td>Oinu vaa</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O moota</td>               <td>O niniauo</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O tiu</td>                 <td>Moafitu otemau</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Fekei</td>                 <td>O mauniua</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O tuoa</td>                <td>Hotaei</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O meae</td>                <td>Oa tua hae</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O tehu eo</td>             <td>Kei pana</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O ahunia</td>              <td>Tui haa</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O taa tini</td>            <td>Kei pana</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Nohea</td>                 <td>Tou mata</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tua kina</td>              <td>Papa ohe</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tepiu</td>                 <td>Punoa</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tui feaa</td>              <td>Tuhina</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Naani Eiva</td>            <td>Eio Hoki</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Teani nui nei</td>         <td>O tapu ohi</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Ani hetiti</td>            <td>Opu tini</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O kou aehitini</td>        <td>O take oho</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O taupo</td>               <td>O te heva</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tui pahu</td>              <td>Otiu hoku</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O hupe</td>                <td>Oahu tupua</td></tr>
+<tr><td>O papuaei</td>             <td>O honu feti</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Pepene tona</td>           <td>Honu tona</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Haheinutu</td>             <td>O taoho</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Kotio nui</td>             <td>Taihaupu</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Motu haa</td>              <td>Mu eiamau</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Hope taupo</td>            <td>Tuhi pahu</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Taupo tini</td>            <td>Anitia fitu</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Ana tete</td>              <td>Pa efitu</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Kihiputona</td>            <td>Tahio paha oho</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Taua kahiepo</td>          <td>Honu tona</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mahea tete</td>            <td>Titihuti</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Aino tete tika</td>        <td>Tua vahiane</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Kui motua</td>             <td>Titihuti</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Loud sang the names themselves, proclaiming the merits of their
+bearers or their fathers in heraldic words, in titles like banners
+on castle walls, flying the standard of ideals and attainments of
+men and women long since dust.</p>
+
+<p>Masters of Sea and Land, Commander of the Stars, Orderers of the
+Waxing and Waning of the Moon, Ten Thousand Ocean Tides, Man of Fair
+Countenance, Caller to Myriads, Climber to the Ninth Heaven, Man of
+Understanding, Player of the Game of Life, Doer of Deeds of Daring,
+Ten Thousand Cocoanut Leaves, The Enclosure of the Whale's Tooth,
+Man of the Forbidden Place, The Whole Blue Sky, Player of the War
+Drum, The Long Stayer; these were the names that called down the
+centuries, bringing back to Titihuti and to us who sat at her feet
+in the glow of the torches the fame and glory of her people through
+ages past.</p>
+
+<p>How compare such names with John Smith or Henry Wilson? Yet we
+ourselves, did we remember it, have come from ancestors bearing
+names as resonant. Nero was Ahenobarbus, the Red-Bearded, to his
+contemporaries of Rome, at the time when Titihuti's forefathers were
+brave and great beneath the cocoanut-palms of Atuona. Our lists of
+early European kings carry names as full of meaning as theirs;
+Charles the Hammer, Edward the Confessor, Charles the Bold, Richard
+the Lion-Hearted, Hereward the Wake.</p>
+
+<p>Titihuti, having gravely finished her chant, stood for a moment in
+silence. Then, &ldquo;<i>Aue!</i>&rdquo; she said with a sigh. &ldquo;No one will remember
+when I am gone. Water, my son, nor Keke, my daughter, have learned
+these names of their forefathers and mothers who were noble and
+renowned. What does it matter? We will all be gone soon, and the
+cocoanut-groves of our islands will know us no more. We come, we do
+not know whence, and we go, we do not know where. Only the sea
+endures, and it does not remember.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She sat on the mat beside me, and pressed my hand. I had been
+adopted as her son, and she was sorry to see me departing to the
+unknown island from which I had come, and from which, she knew, I
+would never return. She was mournful; she said that her heart was
+heavy. But I praised lavishly her beautifully tattooed legs, and
+complimented the decoration of her hair until she smiled again, and
+when from the shadowy edges of the ring of torch-light voices began
+an old chant of feasting, she took it up with the others.</p>
+
+<p>There were Marquesans who could recite one hundred and forty-five
+generations of their families, covering more than thirty-six hundred
+years. Enough to make family trees that go back to the Norman
+conquest appear insignificant. I had known an old Maori priest who
+traced his ancestry to Rangi and Papa, through one hundred and
+eighty-two generations, 4,550 years. The Easter Islanders spoke of
+fifty-seven generations, and in Raratonga ninety pairs of ancestors
+are recited. The pride of the white man melts before such records.</p>
+
+<p>Such incidents as the sack of Jerusalem, the Crusades, or Cassar's
+assassination, are recent events compared to the beginnings of some
+of these families, whose last descendants have died or are dying
+to-day.</p>
+
+<p>I took Titihuti's words with me as I went down the trail from my
+little blue cabin at the foot of Temetiu for the last time:
+&ldquo;We come, we do not know whence, and we go, we do not know where.
+Only the sea endures, and it does not remember.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Great Fern, Haabuani, Exploding Eggs, and Water carried my bags and
+boxes to the shore, while I said <i>adieux</i> to the governor, Bauda,
+and Le Brunnec. When I reached the beach all the people of the valley
+were gathered there. They sat upon the sand, men and women and
+children, and intoned my farewell ode&mdash;my <i>pae me io te</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;Apae!</span>
+<span>Kaoha! te Menike!</span>
+<span>Mau oti oe anao nei</span>
+<span class="i2">i te apua Kahito</span>
+<span class="i2">o a'Tahiti.</span>
+<span>Ei e tihe to metao iau e hoa iriti oei an ote vei mata to taua.</span>
+<span class="i2">E avei atu.&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+<p></p>
+<div class="poem">
+<span>&ldquo;O, farewell to you, American!</span>
+<span>You go to far-distant Tahiti!</span>
+<span>There you will stay, but you will weep for me.</span>
+<span>Ever I shall be here, and the tears fall like the river flows.</span>
+<span>O friend and lover, the time has come. Farewell!&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The sky was ominous and the boats of the <i>Saint François</i> were
+running a heavy surf. I waded waist-deep through the breakers to
+climb into one. Malicious Gossip, Ghost Girl and the little leper
+lass, Many Daughters, were sobbing, their dresses lifted to their
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Hee poihoo!</i>&rdquo; cried the steersman. The men in the breakers shoved
+hard, and leaped in, and we were gone.</p>
+
+<p>My last hour in the Marquesas had come. I should never return. The
+beauty, the depressingness of these islands is overwhelming. Why
+could not this idyllic, fierce, laughter-loving people have stayed
+savage and strong, wicked and clean? The artists alone have known
+the flower destroyed here, the possible growth into greatness and
+purity that was choked in the smoke of white lust and greed.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock at night we were ready to depart.</p>
+
+<p>The bell in the engine-room rang, the captain shouted orders from
+the bridge, the anchors were hoisted aboard. The propeller began to
+turn. The searchlight of the <i>Saint François</i> played upon the rocky
+stairway of Taha-Uka, penciled for a moment the dark line of the
+cliffs, swept the half circle into Atuona Inlet, and lingered on the
+white cross of Calvary where Gauguin lies.</p>
+
+<p>The gentle rain in the shaft of light looked like quicksilver. The
+smoke from the funnel mixed in the heavy air with the mist and the
+light, and formed a fantastic beam of vapor from the ship to the
+shore. Up this stream of quivering, scintillating irradiation, as
+brilliant as flashing water in the sun, flew from the land thousands
+of gauze-winged insects, the great moths of the night, wondrous,
+shimmering bits of life, seeming all fire in the strange atmosphere.
+Drawn from their homes in the dark groves by this marvelous
+illumination, they climbed higher and higher in the dazzling
+splendor until they reached its source, where they crumpled and died.
+They seemed the souls of the island folk.</p>
+
+<p>They pass mute, falling like the breadfruit in their dark groves.
+Soon none will be left to tell their departed glories. Their skulls
+perhaps shall speak to the stranger who comes a few decades hence,
+of a manly people, once magnificently perfect in body, masters of
+their seas, unexcelled in the record of humanity in beauty, vigor,
+and valor.</p>
+
+<p>To-day, insignificant in numbers, unsung in history, they go to the
+abode of their dark spirits, calmly and without protest. A race goes
+out in wretchedness, a race worth saving, a race superb in manhood
+when the whites came. Nothing will remain of them but their ruined
+monuments, the relics of their temples and High Places, remnants of
+the mysterious past of one of the strangest people of time.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Saint François</i> surged past the <i>Roberta</i>, the old sea-wolf,
+worn and patched, but sturdy in the gleam of the searchlight.
+Capriata, the old Corsican, stood on his deck watching us go.</p>
+
+<p>I walked aft and took my last view of the Marquesas. The tops of the
+mountains were jagged shadows against the sky, dark and mournful.
+The arc-light swung to shine upon the mouth of the bay, and the Land
+of the War Fleet was blotted out in the black night.</p>
+
+<p>Some day when deeper poverty falls on Asia or the fortunes of war
+give all the South Seas to the Samurai, these islands will again be
+peopled. But never again will they know such beautiful children of
+nature, passionate and brave, as have been destroyed here. They
+shall have passed as did the old Greeks, but they will have left no
+written record save the feeble and misunderstanding observations of
+a few alien visitors.</p>
+
+<p><i>Apai! Kaoha e!</i></p>
+
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14384 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:44:22 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:44:22 -0700
commit	6ff8674c79bb6d415474d9b38e5e950ce4a5516d (patch)
tree	ddcf122034edf9968d60167b22d5fa3ab6b86436 /14384-h