_
CHAPTER XII - THE HIGH SEAT OF ABUNDANCE
On the arrival of strangers, every man endeavoured to obtain one as
a friend and carry him off to his own habitation, where he is
treated with the greatest kindness by the inhabitants of the
district; they place him on a high seat and feed him with abundance
of the finest food.--Polynesian Researches.
The Snark was lying at anchor at Raiatea, just off the village of
Uturoa. She had arrived the night before, after dark, and we were
preparing to pay our first visit ashore. Early in the morning I had
noticed a tiny outrigger canoe, with an impossible spritsail,
skimming the surface of the lagoon. The canoe itself was coffin-
shaped, a mere dugout, fourteen feet long, a scant twelve inches
wide, and maybe twenty-four inches deep. It had no lines, except in
so far that it was sharp at both ends. Its sides were
perpendicular. Shorn of the outrigger, it would have capsized of
itself inside a tenth of a second. It was the outrigger that kept
it right side up.
I have said that the sail was impossible. It was. It was one of
those things, not that you have to see to believe, but that you
cannot believe after you have seen it. The hoist of it and the
length of its boom were sufficiently appalling; but, not content
with that, its artificer had given it a tremendous head. So large
was the head that no common sprit could carry the strain of it in an
ordinary breeze. So a spar had been lashed to the canoe, projecting
aft over the water. To this had been made fast a sprit guy: thus,
the foot of the sail was held by the main-sheet, and the peak by the
guy to the sprit.
It was not a mere boat, not a mere canoe, but a sailing machine.
And the man in it sailed it by his weight and his nerve--principally
by the latter. I watched the canoe beat up from leeward and run in
toward the village, its sole occupant far out on the outrigger and
luffing up and spilling the wind in the puffs.
"Well, I know one thing," I announced; "I don't leave Raiatea till I
have a ride in that canoe."
A few minutes later Warren called down the companionway, "Here's
that canoe you were talking about."
Promptly I dashed on deck and gave greeting to its owner, a tall,
slender Polynesian, ingenuous of face, and with clear, sparkling,
intelligent eyes. He was clad in a scarlet loin-cloth and a straw
hat. In his hands were presents--a fish, a bunch of greens, and
several enormous yams. All of which acknowledged by smiles (which
are coinage still in isolated spots of Polynesia) and by frequent
repetitions of mauruuru (which is the Tahitian "thank you"), I
proceeded to make signs that I desired to go for a sail in his
canoe.
His face lighted with pleasure and he uttered the single word,
"Tahaa," turning at the same time and pointing to the lofty, cloud-
draped peaks of an island three miles away--the island of Tahaa. It
was fair wind over, but a head-beat back. Now I did not want to go
to Tahaa. I had letters to deliver in Raiatea, and officials to
see, and there was Charmian down below getting ready to go ashore.
By insistent signs I indicated that I desired no more than a short
sail on the lagoon. Quick was the disappointment in his face, yet
smiling was the acquiescence.
"Come on for a sail," I called below to Charmian. "But put on your
swimming suit. It's going to be wet."
It wasn't real. It was a dream. That canoe slid over the water
like a streak of silver. I climbed out on the outrigger and
supplied the weight to hold her down, while Tehei (pronounced
Tayhayee) supplied the nerve. He, too, in the puffs, climbed part
way out on the outrigger, at the same time steering with both hands
on a large paddle and holding the mainsheet with his foot.
"Ready about!" he called.
I carefully shifted my weight inboard in order to maintain the
equilibrium as the sail emptied.
"Hard a-lee!" he called, shooting her into the wind.
I slid out on the opposite side over the water on a spar lashed
across the canoe, and we were full and away on the other tack.
"All right," said Tehei.
Those three phrases, "Ready about," "Hard a-lee," and "All right,"
comprised Tehei's English vocabulary and led me to suspect that at
some time he had been one of a Kanaka crew under an American
captain. Between the puffs I made signs to him and repeatedly and
interrogatively uttered the word SAILOR. Then I tried it in
atrocious French. MARIN conveyed no meaning to him; nor did
MATELOT. Either my French was bad, or else he was not up in it. I
have since concluded that both conjectures were correct. Finally, I
began naming over the adjacent islands. He nodded that he had been
to them. By the time my quest reached Tahiti, he caught my drift.
His thought-processes were almost visible, and it was a joy to watch
him think. He nodded his head vigorously. Yes, he had been to
Tahiti, and he added himself names of islands such as Tikihau,
Rangiroa, and Fakarava, thus proving that he had sailed as far as
the Paumotus--undoubtedly one of the crew of a trading schooner.
After our short sail, when he had returned on board, he by signs
inquired the destination of the Snark, and when I had mentioned
Samoa, Fiji, New Guinea, France, England, and California in their
geographical sequence, he said "Samoa," and by gestures intimated
that he wanted to go along. Whereupon I was hard put to explain
that there was no room for him. "Petit bateau" finally solved it,
and again the disappointment in his face was accompanied by smiling
acquiescence, and promptly came the renewed invitation to accompany
him to Tahaa.
Charmian and I looked at each other. The exhilaration of the ride
we had taken was still upon us. Forgotten were the letters to
Raiatea, the officials we had to visit. Shoes, a shirt, a pair of
trousers, cigarettes matches, and a book to read were hastily
crammed into a biscuit tin and wrapped in a rubber blanket, and we
were over the side and into the canoe.
"When shall we look for you?" Warren called, as the wind filled the
sail and sent Tehei and me scurrying out on the outrigger.
"I don't know," I answered. "When we get back, as near as I can
figure it."
And away we went. The wind had increased, and with slacked sheets
we ran off before it. The freeboard of the canoe was no more than
two and a half inches, and the little waves continually lapped over
the side. This required bailing. Now bailing is one of the
principal functions of the vahine. Vahine is the Tahitian for
woman, and Charmian being the only vahine aboard, the bailing fell
appropriately to her. Tehei and I could not very well do it, the
both of us being perched part way out on the outrigger and busied
with keeping the canoe bottom-side down. So Charmian bailed, with a
wooden scoop of primitive design, and so well did she do it that
there were occasions when she could rest off almost half the time.
Raiatea and Tahaa are unique in that they lie inside the same
encircling reef. Both are volcanic islands, ragged of sky-line,
with heaven-aspiring peaks and minarets. Since Raiatea is thirty
miles in circumference, and Tahaa fifteen miles, some idea may be
gained of the magnitude of the reef that encloses them. Between
them and the reef stretches from one to two miles of water, forming
a beautiful lagoon. The huge Pacific seas, extending in unbroken
lines sometimes a mile or half as much again in length, hurl
themselves upon the reef, overtowering and falling upon it with
tremendous crashes, and yet the fragile coral structure withstands
the shock and protects the land. Outside lies destruction to the
mightiest ship afloat. Inside reigns the calm of untroubled water,
whereon a canoe like ours can sail with no more than a couple of
inches of free-board.
We flew over the water. And such water!--clear as the clearest
spring-water, and crystalline in its clearness, all intershot with a
maddening pageant of colours and rainbow ribbons more magnificently
gorgeous than any rainbow. Jade green alternated with turquoise,
peacock blue with emerald, while now the canoe skimmed over reddish
purple pools, and again over pools of dazzling, shimmering white
where pounded coral sand lay beneath and upon which oozed monstrous
sea-slugs. One moment we were above wonder-gardens of coral,
wherein coloured fishes disported, fluttering like marine
butterflies; the next moment we were dashing across the dark surface
of deep channels, out of which schools of flying fish lifted their
silvery flight; and a third moment we were above other gardens of
living coral, each more wonderful than the last. And above all was
the tropic, trade-wind sky with its fluffy clouds racing across the
zenith and heaping the horizon with their soft masses.
Before we were aware, we were close in to Tahaa (pronounced Tah-hah-
ah, with equal accents), and Tehei was grinning approval of the
vahine's proficiency at bailing. The canoe grounded on a shallow
shore, twenty feet from land, and we waded out on a soft bottom
where big slugs curled and writhed under our feet and where small
octopuses advertised their existence by their superlative softness
when stepped upon. Close to the beach, amid cocoanut palms and
banana trees, erected on stilts, built of bamboo, with a grass-
thatched roof, was Tehei's house. And out of the house came Tehei's
vahine, a slender mite of a woman, kindly eyed and Mongolian of
feature--when she was not North American Indian. "Bihaura," Tehei
called her, but he did not pronounce it according to English notions
of spelling. Spelled "Bihaura," it sounded like Bee-ah-oo-rah, with
every syllable sharply emphasized.
She took Charmian by the hand and led her into the house, leaving
Tehei and me to follow. Here, by sign-language unmistakable, we
were informed that all they possessed was ours. No hidalgo was ever
more generous in the expression of giving, while I am sure that few
hidalgos were ever as generous in the actual practice. We quickly
discovered that we dare not admire their possessions, for whenever
we did admire a particular object it was immediately presented to
us. The two vahines, according to the way of vahines, got together
in a discussion and examination of feminine fripperies, while Tehei
and I, manlike, went over fishing-tackle and wild-pig-hunting, to
say nothing of the device whereby bonitas are caught on forty-foot
poles from double canoes. Charmian admired a sewing basket--the
best example she had seen of Polynesian basketry; it was hers. I
admired a bonita hook, carved in one piece from a pearl-shell; it
was mine. Charmian was attracted by a fancy braid of straw sennit,
thirty feet of it in a roll, sufficient to make a hat of any design
one wished; the roll of sennit was hers. My gaze lingered upon a
poi-pounder that dated back to the old stone days; it was mine.
Charmian dwelt a moment too long on a wooden poi-bowl, canoe-shaped,
with four legs, all carved in one piece of wood; it was hers. I
glanced a second time at a gigantic cocoanut calabash; it was mine.
Then Charmian and I held a conference in which we resolved to admire
no more--not because it did not pay well enough, but because it paid
too well. Also, we were already racking our brains over the
contents of the Snark for suitable return presents. Christmas is an
easy problem compared with a Polynesian giving-feast.
We sat on the cool porch, on Bihaura's best mats while dinner was
preparing, and at the same time met the villagers. In twos and
threes and groups they strayed along, shaking hands and uttering the
Tahitian word of greeting--Ioarana, pronounced yo-rah-nah. The men,
big strapping fellows, were in loin-cloths, with here and there no
shirt, while the women wore the universal ahu, a sort of adult
pinafore that flows in graceful lines from the shoulders to the
ground. Sad to see was the elephantiasis that afflicted some of
them. Here would be a comely woman of magnificent proportions, with
the port of a queen, yet marred by one arm four times--or a dozen
times--the size of the other. Beside her might stand a six-foot
man, erect, mighty-muscled, bronzed, with the body of a god, yet
with feet and calves so swollen that they ran together, forming
legs, shapeless, monstrous, that were for all the world like
elephant legs.
No one seems really to know the cause of the South Sea
elephantiasis. One theory is that it is caused by the drinking of
polluted water. Another theory attributes it to inoculation through
mosquito bites. A third theory charges it to predisposition plus
the process of acclimatization. On the other hand, no one that
stands in finicky dread of it and similar diseases can afford to
travel in the South Seas. There will be occasions when such a one
must drink water. There may be also occasions when the mosquitoes
let up biting. But every precaution of the finicky one will be
useless. If he runs barefoot across the beach to have a swim, he
will tread where an elephantiasis case trod a few minutes before.
If he closets himself in his own house, yet every bit of fresh food
on his table will have been subjected to the contamination, be it
flesh, fish, fowl, or vegetable. In the public market at Papeete
two known lepers run stalls, and heaven alone knows through what
channels arrive at that market the daily supplies of fish, fruit,
meat, and vegetables. The only happy way to go through the South
Seas is with a careless poise, without apprehension, and with a
Christian Science-like faith in the resplendent fortune of your own
particular star. When you see a woman, afflicted with elephantiasis
wringing out cream from cocoanut meat with her naked hands, drink
and reflect how good is the cream, forgetting the hands that pressed
it out. Also, remember that diseases such as elephantiasis and
leprosy do not seem to be caught by contact.
We watched a Raratongan woman, with swollen, distorted limbs,
prepare our cocoanut cream, and then went out to the cook-shed where
Tehei and Bihaura were cooking dinner. And then it was served to us
on a dry-goods box in the house. Our hosts waited until we were
done and then spread their table on the floor. But our table! We
were certainly in the high seat of abundance. First, there was
glorious raw fish, caught several hours before from the sea and
steeped the intervening time in lime-juice diluted with water. Then
came roast chicken. Two cocoanuts, sharply sweet, served for drink.
There were bananas that tasted like strawberries and that melted in
the mouth, and there was banana-poi that made one regret that his
Yankee forebears ever attempted puddings. Then there was boiled
yam, boiled taro, and roasted feis, which last are nothing more or
less than large mealy, juicy, red-coloured cooking bananas. We
marvelled at the abundance, and, even as we marvelled, a pig was
brought on, a whole pig, a sucking pig, swathed in green leaves and
roasted upon the hot stones of a native oven, the most honourable
and triumphant dish in the Polynesian cuisine. And after that came
coffee, black coffee, delicious coffee, native coffee grown on the
hillsides of Tahaa.
Tehei's fishing-tackle fascinated me, and after we arranged to go
fishing, Charmian and I decided to remain all night. Again Tehei
broached Samoa, and again my petit bateau brought the disappointment
and the smile of acquiescence to his face. Bora Bora was my next
port. It was not so far away but that cutters made the passage back
and forth between it and Raiatea. So I invited Tehei to go that far
with us on the Snark. Then I learned that his wife had been born on
Bora Bora and still owned a house there. She likewise was invited,
and immediately came the counter invitation to stay with them in
their house in Born Bora. It was Monday. Tuesday we would go
fishing and return to Raiatea. Wednesday we would sail by Tahaa and
off a certain point, a mile away, pick up Tehei and Bihaura and go
on to Bora Bora. All this we arranged in detail, and talked over
scores of other things as well, and yet Tehei knew three phrases in
English, Charmian and I knew possibly a dozen Tahitian words, and
among the four of us there were a dozen or so French words that all
understood. Of course, such polyglot conversation was slow, but,
eked out with a pad, a lead pencil, the face of a clock Charmian
drew on the back of a pad, and with ten thousand and one gestures,
we managed to get on very nicely.
At the first moment we evidenced an inclination for bed the visiting
natives, with soft Iaoranas, faded away, and Tehei and Bihaura
likewise faded away. The house consisted of one large room, and it
was given over to us, our hosts going elsewhere to sleep. In truth,
their castle was ours. And right here, I want to say that of all
the entertainment I have received in this world at the hands of all
sorts of races in all sorts of places, I have never received
entertainment that equalled this at the hands of this brown-skinned
couple of Tahaa. I do not refer to the presents, the free-handed
generousness, the high abundance, but to the fineness of courtesy
and consideration and tact, and to the sympathy that was real
sympathy in that it was understanding. They did nothing they
thought ought to be done for us, according to their standards, but
they did what they divined we waited to be done for us, while their
divination was most successful. It would be impossible to enumerate
the hundreds of little acts of consideration they performed during
the few days of our intercourse. Let it suffice for me to say that
of all hospitality and entertainment I have known, in no case was
theirs not only not excelled, but in no case was it quite equalled.
Perhaps the most delightful feature of it was that it was due to no
training, to no complex social ideals, but that it was the untutored
and spontaneous outpouring from their hearts.
The next morning we went fishing, that is, Tehei, Charmian, and I
did, in the coffin-shaped canoe; but this time the enormous sail was
left behind. There was no room for sailing and fishing at the same
time in that tiny craft. Several miles away, inside the reef, in a
channel twenty fathoms deep, Tehei dropped his baited hooks and
rock-sinkers. The bait was chunks of octopus flesh, which he bit
out of a live octopus that writhed in the bottom of the canoe. Nine
of these lines he set, each line attached to one end of a short
length of bamboo floating on the surface. When a fish was hooked,
the end of the bamboo was drawn under the water. Naturally, the
other end rose up in the air, bobbing and waving frantically for us
to make haste. And make haste we did, with whoops and yells and
driving paddles, from one signalling bamboo to another, hauling up
from the depths great glistening beauties from two to three feet in
length.
Steadily, to the eastward, an ominous squall had been rising and
blotting out the bright trade-wind sky. And we were three miles to
leeward of home. We started as the first wind-gusts whitened the
water. Then came the rain, such rain as only the tropics afford,
where every tap and main in the sky is open wide, and when, to top
it all, the very reservoir itself spills over in blinding deluge.
Well, Charmian was in a swimming suit, I was in pyjamas, and Tehei
wore only a loin-cloth. Bihaura was on the beach waiting for us,
and she led Charmian into the house in much the same fashion that
the mother leads in the naughty little girl who has been playing in
mud-puddles.
It was a change of clothes and a dry and quiet smoke while kai-kai
was preparing. Kai-kai, by the way, is the Polynesian for "food" or
"to eat," or, rather, it is one form of the original root, whatever
it may have been, that has been distributed far and wide over the
vast area of the Pacific. It is kai in the Marquesas, Raratonga,
Manahiki, Niue, Fakaafo, Tonga, New Zealand, and Vate. In Tahiti
"to eat" changes to amu, in Hawaii and Samoa to ai, in Ban to kana,
in Nina to kana, in Nongone to kaka, and in New Caledonia to ki.
But by whatsoever sound or symbol, it was welcome to our ears after
that long paddle in the rain. Once more we sat in the high seat of
abundance until we regretted that we had been made unlike the image
of the giraffe and the camel.
Again, when we were preparing to return to the Snark, the sky to
windward turned black and another squall swooped down. But this
time it was little rain and all wind. It blew hour after hour,
moaning and screeching through the palms, tearing and wrenching and
shaking the frail bamboo dwelling, while the outer reef set no a
mighty thundering as it broke the force of the swinging seas.
Inside the reef, the lagoon, sheltered though it was, was white with
fury, and not even Tehei's seamanship could have enabled his slender
canoe to live in such a welter.
By sunset, the back of the squall had broken though it was still too
rough for the canoe. So I had Tehei find a native who was willing
to venture his cutter across to Raiatea for the outrageous sum of
two dollars, Chili, which is equivalent in our money to ninety
cents. Half the village was told off to carry presents, with which
Tehei and Bihaura speeded their parting guests--captive chickens,
fishes dressed and swathed in wrappings of green leaves, great
golden bunches of bananas, leafy baskets spilling over with oranges
and limes, alligator pears (the butter-fruit, also called the
avoca), huge baskets of yams, bunches of taro and cocoanuts, and
last of all, large branches and trunks of trees--firewood for the
Snark.
While on the way to the cutter we met the only white man on Tahaa,
and of all men, George Lufkin, a native of New England! Eighty-six
years of age he was, sixty-odd of which, he said, he had spent in
the Society Islands, with occasional absences, such as the gold rush
to Eldorado in 'forty-nine and a short period of ranching in
California near Tulare. Given no more than three months by the
doctors to live, he had returned to his South Seas and lived to
eighty-six and to chuckle over the doctors aforesaid, who were all
in their graves. Fee-fee he had, which is the native for
elephantiasis and which is pronounced fay-fay. A quarter of a
century before, the disease had fastened upon him, and it would
remain with him until he died. We asked him about kith and kin.
Beside him sat a sprightly damsel of sixty, his daughter. "She is
all I have," he murmured plaintively, "and she has no children
living."
The cutter was a small, sloop-rigged affair, but large it seemed
alongside Tehei's canoe. On the other hand, when we got out on the
lagoon and were struck by another heavy wind-squall, the cutter
became liliputian, while the Snark, in our imagination, seemed to
promise all the stability and permanence of a continent. They were
good boatmen. Tehei and Bihaura had come along to see us home, and
the latter proved a good boatwoman herself. The cutter was well
ballasted, and we met the squall under full sail. It was getting
dark, the lagoon was full of coral patches, and we were carrying on.
In the height of the squall we had to go about, in order to make a
short leg to windward to pass around a patch of coral no more than a
foot under the surface. As the cutter filled on the other tack, and
while she was in that "dead" condition that precedes gathering way,
she was knocked flat. Jib-sheet and main-sheet were let go, and she
righted into the wind. Three times she was knocked down, and three
times the sheets were flung loose, before she could get away on that
tack.
By the time we went about again, darkness had fallen. We were now
to windward of the Snark, and the squall was howling. In came the
jib, and down came the mainsail, all but a patch of it the size of a
pillow-slip. By an accident we missed the Snark, which was riding
it out to two anchors, and drove aground upon the inshore coral.
Running the longest line on the Snark by means of the launch, and
after an hour's hard work, we heaved the cutter off and had her
lying safely astern.
The day we sailed for Bora Bora the wind was light, and we crossed
the lagoon under power to the point where Tehei and Bihaura were to
meet us. As we made in to the land between the coral banks, we
vainly scanned the shore for our friends. There was no sign of
them.
"We can't wait," I said. "This breeze won't fetch us to Bora Bora
by dark, and I don't want to use any more gasolene than I have to."
You see, gasolene in the South Seas is a problem. One never knows
when he will be able to replenish his supply.
But just then Tehei appeared through the trees as he came down to
the water. He had peeled off his shirt and was wildly waving it.
Bihaura apparently was not ready. Once aboard, Tehei informed us by
signs that we must proceed along the land till we got opposite to
his house. He took the wheel and conned the Snark through the
coral, around point after point till we cleared the last point of
all. Cries of welcome went up from the beach, and Bihaura, assisted
by several of the villagers, brought off two canoe-loads of
abundance. There were yams, taro, feis, breadfruit, cocoanuts,
oranges, limes, pineapples, watermelons, alligator pears,
pomegranates, fish, chickens galore crowing and cackling and laying
eggs on our decks, and a live pig that squealed infernally and all
the time in apprehension of imminent slaughter.
Under the rising moon we came in through the perilous passage of the
reef of Bora Bora and dropped anchor off Vaitape village. Bihaura,
with housewifely anxiety, could not get ashore too quickly to her
house to prepare more abundance for us. While the launch was taking
her and Tehei to the little jetty, the sound of music and of singing
drifted across the quiet lagoon. Throughout the Society Islands we
had been continually informed that we would find the Bora Borans
very jolly. Charmian and I went ashore to see, and on the village
green, by forgotten graves on the beach, found the youths and
maidens dancing, flower-garlanded and flower-bedecked, with strange
phosphorescent flowers in their hair that pulsed and dimmed and
glowed in the moonlight. Farther along the beach we came upon a
huge grass house, oval-shaped seventy feet in length, where the
elders of the village were singing himines. They, too, were flower-
garlanded and jolly, and they welcomed us into the fold as little
lost sheep straying along from outer darkness.
Early next morning Tehei was on board, with a string of fresh-caught
fish and an invitation to dinner for that evening. On the way to
dinner, we dropped in at the himine house. The same elders were
singing, with here or there a youth or maiden that we had not seen
the previous night. From all the signs, a feast was in preparation.
Towering up from the floor was a mountain of fruits and vegetables,
flanked on either side by numerous chickens tethered by cocoanut
strips. After several himines had been sung, one of the men arose
and made oration. The oration was made to us, and though it was
Greek to us, we knew that in some way it connected us with that
mountain of provender.
"Can it be that they are presenting us with all that?" Charmian
whispered.
"Impossible," I muttered back. "Why should they be giving it to us?
Besides, there is no room on the Snark for it. We could not eat a
tithe of it. The rest would spoil. Maybe they are inviting us to
the feast. At any rate, that they should give all that to us is
impossible."
Nevertheless we found ourselves once more in the high seat of
abundance. The orator, by gestures unmistakable, in detail
presented every item in the mountain to us, and next he presented it
to us in toto. It was an embarrassing moment. What would you do if
you lived in a hall bedroom and a friend gave you a white elephant?
Our Snark was no more than a hall bedroom, and already she was
loaded down with the abundance of Tahaa. This new supply was too
much. We blushed, and stammered, and mauruuru'd. We mauruuru'd
with repeated nui's which conveyed the largeness and
overwhelmingness of our thanks. At the same time, by signs, we
committed the awful breach of etiquette of not accepting the
present. The himine singers' disappointment was plainly betrayed,
and that evening, aided by Tehei, we compromised by accepting one
chicken, one bunch of bananas, one bunch of taro, and so on down the
list.
But there was no escaping the abundance. I bought a dozen chickens
from a native out in the country, and the following day he delivered
thirteen chickens along with a canoe-load of fruit. The French
storekeeper presented us with pomegranates and lent us his finest
horse. The gendarme did likewise, lending us a horse that was the
very apple of his eye. And everybody sent us flowers. The Snark
was a fruit-stand and a greengrocer's shop masquerading under the
guise of a conservatory. We went around flower-garlanded all the
time. When the himine singers came on board to sing, the maidens
kissed us welcome, and the crew, from captain to cabin-boy, lost its
heart to the maidens of Bora Bora. Tehei got up a big fishing
expedition in our honour, to which we went in a double canoe,
paddled by a dozen strapping Amazons. We were relieved that no fish
were caught, else the Snark would have sunk at her moorings.
The days passed, but the abundance did not diminish. On the day of
departure, canoe after canoe put off to us. Tehei brought cucumbers
and a young papaia tree burdened with splendid fruit. Also, for me
he brought a tiny, double canoe with fishing apparatus complete.
Further, he brought fruits and vegetables with the same lavishness
as at Tahaa. Bihaura brought various special presents for Charmian,
such as silk-cotton pillows, fans, and fancy mats. The whole
population brought fruits, flowers, and chickens. And Bihaura added
a live sucking pig. Natives whom I did not remember ever having
seen before strayed over the rail and presented me with such things
as fish-poles, fish-lines, and fish-hooks carved from pearl-shell.
As the Snark sailed out through the reef, she had a cutter in tow.
This was the craft that was to take Bihaura back to Tahaa--but not
Tehei. I had yielded at last, and he was one of the crew of the
Snark. When the cutter cast off and headed east, and the Snark's
bow turned toward the west, Tehei knelt down by the cockpit and
breathed a silent prayer, the tears flowing down his cheeks. A week
later, when Martin got around to developing and printing, he showed
Tehei some of the photographs. And that brown-skinned son of
Polynesia, gazing on the pictured lineaments of his beloved Bihaura
broke down in tears.
But the abundance! There was so much of it. We could not work the
Snark for the fruit that was in the way. She was festooned with
fruit. The life-boat and launch were packed with it. The awning-
guys groaned under their burdens. But once we struck the full
trade-wind sea, the disburdening began. At every roll the Snark
shook overboard a bunch or so of bananas and cocoanuts, or a basket
of limes. A golden flood of limes washed about in the lee-scuppers.
The big baskets of yams burst, and pineapples and pomegranates
rolled back and forth. The chickens had got loose and were
everywhere, roosting on the awnings, fluttering and squawking out on
the jib-boom, and essaying the perilous feat of balancing on the
spinnaker-boom. They were wild chickens, accustomed to flight.
When attempts were made to catch them, they flew out over the ocean,
circled about, and came lack. Sometimes they did not come back.
And in the confusion, unobserved, the little sucking pig got loose
and slipped overboard.
"On the arrival of strangers, every man endeavoured to obtain one as
a friend and carry him off to his own habitation, where he is
treated with the greatest kindness by the inhabitants of the
district: they place him on a high seat and feed him with abundance
of the finest foods."
Content of CHAPTER XII - THE HIGH SEAT OF ABUNDANCE [Jack London's book: The Cruise of the Snark]
_