Come, dear children, come out and play.
The moon is shining as bright as day.
Up the ladder and over the wall—
149 Raising my head quickly, I saw through the open doorway7 their perfect illustration. The wall was the smooth wall of the sea, with a waning8 moon rising just clear of it, sending a path of light to the strip of white beach in front of the house. The palm trees bordering the shore swarmed9 with children who were throwing down nuts. One ancient tree, its stem a fantastic curve, held its foliage10 far out over the water at a point where the floor of the narrow outer lagoon11 shelved steeply toward the reef some fifty yards distant. Both boys and girls were shinning up the trunk, one after the other, diving from the plumed12 top, dropping feet foremost, jumping with their hands clasped around their knees into the foaming13 water—the wreckage15 of huge combers which broke on the reef pouring across it into the inner shallows. A second group had gathered in the moonlit area just before the doorway. Several youngsters were peering intently in my direction. Others were playing a sort of hand-clapping game to the accompaniment of an odd little singsong. A small girl, with a baby riding astride her hip16, walked past, and I saw another, of ten or twelve, standing17 at the edge of the track of shimmering18 light, holding a coconut19 to her lips with both hands. Her head was bent20 far back and her hair hung free from her shoulders as she drained the cool liquid to the last drop.
Imagine coming out of the depths of sleep to the consciousness of such a scene! I was hardly more sure of the reality of it than I had been of the shout, the touch of hands. It was like a picture out of a book of fairy tales, but one quick with life, the figures coming and going against a background of empty sea where the 150 long swell21 broke in lines of white fire on a ledge22 of coral. I remembered where I was, of course: in my own house, which stood on the ocean side of a small motu known in the Paumotuan legend as "The island where the souls were eaten." The house had been built for me only the day before by the order of Puarei, chief of the atoll of Rutiaro; and the motu was one of a dozen uninhabited islands which lay on the thirty-mile circumference23 to the lagoons24.
It was ordered—by chance, which took me there, perhaps—that I was never to see the place in the clear light of usual experience, but rather through a glamour25 like that of remembered dreams—a long succession of dreams in which, night after night, events shape themselves according to the heart's desire, or even more fantastically, with an airy disregard for any semblance26 to reality. So it was, waking from sleep on the first night which I spent under my own roof. I was almost ready to believe that my presence there was not the result of chance. Waywardness of fancy is one of the most godlike of the attributes of that divinity, but the display of it is as likely as not to be unfriendly. Here there seemed to be reasoned kindly27 action. "Providence28," I said to myself—"Providence without a doubt; a little repentant29, perhaps, because of questionable30 gifts in the past." A whimsical Providence, too, which delighted in shocking my sense of probability. What could those children be doing on Soul-Eaters' Island in the middle of the night? I, myself, had left the village island, four miles distant, only a few hours earlier, and at that time everyone was asleep. There was not a sound of human activity in the settlement; not a glimmer31 of light to be seen anywhere excepting in 151 Moy Ling's, the Chinaman's, shop, and on the surface of the lagoon where lay the misty32 reflections of the stars. "Perhaps," I thought, "these are not earthly children. Maybe they are the ghosts of those whose souls were eaten here so many years ago." I was more than half serious in thinking of that possibility. Stranger things had happened on islands not so far removed from the world of men.
I dressed very quietly and went to the door, taking care to keep well in the shadow so that I might look on for a moment without being seen. My doubts vanished at once. Not only the children had come out to play; fathers and mothers, as well. Tamitanga was there and Rikitia and Nahea and Pohu and Tahere and Hunga; Nui-Tane and Nui-Vahine, Tamataha, Manono, Havaiki; and I saw old Rangituki, who was at least seventy and a grandmother several times over, clapping her hands with others of her generation and swaying from side to side in time to the music of Kaupia's accordion33. All the older people were grouped around Puarei, who was seated in an old deck chair, a sort of throne which was carried about for him wherever he went. Poura, his wife, lay on a mat beside him, her chin propped34 on her hands. Both greeted me cordially, but offered no explanation for the reason of the midnight visit. I was glad that they didn't. I liked the casualness of it, which was quite in keeping with habits of life at Rutiaro. But I couldn't help smiling, remembering my reflections earlier in the evening. I believed then that I was crossing the threshold of what was to be an adventure in solitude35, and was in a mood of absurdly youthful elation36 at the prospect37. "I was to delve38 deeply, for the 152 first time, into my own resources against loneliness. I had known the solitude of cities, but there one has the comfortable sense of nearness to others; the refuge of books, pictures, music—all the distractions39 which prevent any very searching examination of one's capacity for a life of retirement40. At Soul-Eaters' Island I would have no books, no pictures, excepting a colored post card of the Woolworth Building which had won me this opportunity; and for music I was limited to what I could make for myself with my ocharina, my sweet-potato whistle which had a range of one octave. Thus scantly41 provided with diversions, I was to learn how far my own thoughts would serve to make a solitary43 life not only endurable, but pleasant."
So I had dreamed as I paddled down the lagoon, with my island taking form against the starlit sky to the eastward44. It was one of those places which set one to dreaming, which seem fashioned by nature for the enjoyment45 of a definite kind of experience. Seeing it, whether by day or by night, the most gregarious46 of men, I am sure, would have become suddenly enamored of his own companionship and the most prosaic47 would have discovered a second, meditative48 self which pleads for indulgence with gentle obstinacy49. But, alas50! my own unsocial nature gained but a barren victory, being robbed, at the outset, of the fruits of it, by the seventy-five convivial51 inhabitants of Rutiaro. Here within six hours was half the village at my door, and Puarei told me that the rest of it, or as many as were provided with canoes, was following. Evidently he had suggested the invasion. My new house needed warming—or the Paumotuan equivalent to that festival—so they had come to warm it.
153 Preparations were being made on an elaborate scale. The children were gathering53 green nuts for drinking and fronds55 for the cloth at the feast. Women and girls were grating the meat of ripe nuts, pressing out the milk for the miti haari; cleaning fish; preparing shells for dishes. Some of the men and the older boys were building native ovens—eight of them, each one large enough for roasting a pig. All of this work was being carried out under Puarei's direction and to the accompaniment of Kaupia's accordion. I wish that I might in some way make real to others the unreal loveliness of the scene. It must be remembered that it took place on one of the loneliest of a lonely cloud of islands which lay in the midmost solitude of an empty ocean. The moonlight must be remembered, too, and how it lay in splinters of silver on the motionless fronds of the palms as though it were of the very texture56 of their polished surfaces. And you must hear Kaupia's accordion, and the shouts of the children as they dove into the pool of silvered foam14. The older ones, out of respect to me, I think, wore wisps of parou cloth about their loins, but the babies were as naked as on the day they were born. Tereki was standing among these five-and-six-year-olders, who were too small for the climb to the diving place, taking them up, sometimes two at once, and tossing them into the pool among the others, where they were as much at home as so many minnows. Watching them, I thought with regret of my own lost opportunities as a child. I felt a deep pity for all the children of civilization who must wear clothing and who never know the joy of playing at midnight, and by moonlight too. Mothers' clubs and child-welfare organizations would do well to 154 consider the advisability of repealing57 the old "to bed at seven" law, the bugbear of all children. Its only merits, if it may be so called, is that it fosters in children, a certain melancholy58 intellectual enjoyment in such poems as, "Up the ladder and over the wall," where the forbidden pleasures are held out to them as though they were natural ones—which most of them are, of course—and quite possible of attainment59.
I was sorry that Tino, supercargo of the Caleb S. Winship, could not be present to see how blithely60 the work went forward. He had called the people of Rutiaro a lazy lot, and he was right—they were lazy, according to the standards of temperate61 climates. But when they worked toward an end which pleased them their industry was astonishing. Tino's belief was that man was made to labor52, whether joyfully62 or not, in order that he might increase his wealth, whether he needed it or not, and that of the world at large. I remember meeting somewhat the same point of view in reading the lives and memoirs63 of some of the old missionaries64 to the islands. It seems to have irked them terribly, finding a people who had never heard that doleful hymn65, "Work, for the Night Is Coming." They, too, believed that the needs of the Polynesians should be increased, but for ethical66 reasons, in order that they should be compelled to cultivate regular habits of industry in order to satisfy them. Although I didn't agree with it, Tino's seemed to me the sounder conviction. The missionaries might have argued as reasonably for a general distribution of Job-like boils, in order that the virtues67 of patience and fortitude69 might have wider dissemination70. But neither trade nor religion had altered to any noticeable extent the habits 155 of life at Rutiaro. The people worked, as they had always done, under the press of necessity. Their simple needs being satisfied, their inertia71 was a thing to marvel72 at. I have often seen them sitting for hours at a time, moving only with the shadows which sheltered them. There was something awe-inspiring in their immobility, in their attitude of profound reverie. I felt at times that I was living in a land under a perpetual enchantment73 of silence and sleep. These periods of calm—or, as Tino would say, laziness—were usually brought to an end by Puarei. It was a fascinating thing to watch him throwing off the enchantment, so gradual the process was and so strange the contrast when he was thoroughly74 awakened75 and had roused the village from its long sleep. Then would follow a period of activity—fishing, copra making, canoe building, whatever there was to do would be done, not speedily, perhaps, but smoothly76, and fasts would be broken—in the case of many of the villagers for the first time in two or three days. My house was built during such a period. I was still living with Puarei on the village island, wondering when, if ever, I was to have the promised dwelling77. Then one afternoon, while I was absent on a shell-gathering expedition, the village set out en masse for Soul-Eaters' Island, cut the timbers, branded the fronds, erected78, swept, and garnished80 my house, and were at the settlement again before I myself had returned. That task finished, here they were back for the warming festival, and the energy spent in preparing for it would have more than loaded Tino's schooner81 with copra. I couldn't flatter myself that all of this was done solely82 to give me pleasure. They found pleasure in it too, and, furthermore, I 156 knew that an unusually long interval83 of fasting called for compensation in the way of feasting.
Puarei was in a gay mood. Religion sat rather heavily upon him sometimes—by virtue68 of his Papeete schooling84, he was the chief elder of his church; but once he sloughed85 off his air of Latter Day Saintliness he made a splendid master of revels86; and he threw it aside the moment the drums began to beat, and led a dozen of the younger men in a dance which I had not seen before. It was very much like modern Swedish drill set to music, except that the movements were as intricate and graceful87 as they were exhausting. Three kinds of drums were used—one, an empty gasoline tin, upon which the drummer kept up a steady roll while the dance was in progress. The rhythm for the movements was indicated by three others, two of them beating hollowed cylinders88 of wood, while a third was provided with an old French army drum of the Napoleonic period. The syncopation was extraordinary. Measures were divided in an amazing variety of ways, and often when the opportunity seemed lost the fragments joined perfectly89 just as the next one was at hand. The music was a kaleidoscope in sound, made up of unique and startling variations in tempo90, as the dance moved from one figure to the next.
At the close of it Kaupia took up her accordion again, and dancing by some of the women followed. At length, Rangituki, grandmother though she was, could resist the music no longer. The others gave way to her, and in a moment she was dancing alone, proudly, with a sort of wistful abandon, as though she were remembering her youth, throwing a last defiance91 in the teeth of Time. Kaupia sang as she played to an air 157 which had but four changes in it. The verse was five words long and repeated endlessly.
Tu fra to potta mi,
Tu fra to potta mi.
Both the words and the air had a familiar sound. They called to mind a shadowy picture of three tall, thin women in spangled skirts, all of them beating tambourines92 in unison93 and dancing in front of a painted screen. I couldn't account for the strange vision at first. It glimmered94 faintly, far in the depths of subconscious96 memory, like a colored newspaper supplement, lying in murky97 water at the end of a pier98. Suddenly it rose into focus, drawn99 to the surface by the buoyant splendor100 of a name—the Cherry Sisters. I remembered then a vaudeville101 troupe102 which long ago made sorry capital of its lack of comeliness103; and I saw them again on the island where the souls were eaten as clearly as ever I had as a youngster, knocking their tambourines on bony elbows, shaking their curls, and singing
"Shoe, fly, don't bother me,"
in shrill104, cracked voices. Kaupia's version was merely a phonetic105 translation of the words. They meant nothing in the Paumotuan dialect; and—old woman though she was—Rangituki's dance, which accompanied the music, played in faster and faster time, was in striking contrast to the angular movements of the Cherry Sisters, tripping it in the background, across the dim footlights of the eighteen nineties.
Other canoes were arriving during this time, and at 158 last a large canoe, which had put off from the ocean side of the village island, was seen making in toward the pass. It was loaded with pigs and chickens, the most important part of the feast, and had been eagerly awaited for more than an hour. Shouts of anticipation106 went up from the shore as the boat drew in with its wished-for freight; but these were a little premature107. There was a stretch of ugly, broken water to be passed, where the swift ebb108 from the lagoon met the swell of the open sea. The canoe was badly jostled in crossing it, and some of the chickens, having worked loose from their bonds, escaped. Like the dogs of the atolls, the chickens are of a wild breed, and they took the air with sturdy wings. The chase from the shore began at once, but it was a hopeless one. Soul-Eaters' Island is five hundred yards long by three hundred broad, and there is another, on the opposite side of the pass, which is more than a mile in extent. We made frantic109 efforts to prevent them from reaching it. We threw sticks and stones, tried to entice110 them with broken coconuts111, the meat temptingly accessible. It was to no purpose. They had been enticed112 before; their crops were full, and several hours of captivity113 had made them wary114. Furthermore, like all Polynesian chickens, they seemed to have a racial memory of what they had been in other times, in less congenial environments—of the lean days when they had been caught and eaten at will, chased by dogs, run down by horses. They were not so far from all that as to have lost conscious pride in their regained116 prerogative117 of flight. The last we saw of them they were using it to splendid advantage over the rapid stream which separated the two islands. One old hen, alone, remained perched in the top of a 159 coconut tree on Soul-Eaters' Island. She was in no hurry to leave. She knew that she could follow the others whenever she liked, and she knew that we knew it. She seemed drunk with a sense of freedom and power, and cackled proudly, as though more than half convinced that the nuts clustered in the nest of foliage beneath her were eggs which she had laid.
Knowing the wholesomeness118 of the Paumotuan appetite, I could understand why the loss of the chickens was regarded seriously. A dozen of them remained, and we had eight pigs weighing from one hundred to one hundred and fifty pounds each, to say nothing of some fifty pounds of fish. All of this was good, in so far as it went, but there was a gloomy shaking of heads as we returned from our fruitless chase. Not that the Paumotuans are particularly fond of chicken; on the contrary, they don't care greatly for fowl119 of any sort, but it serves to fill odd corners of their capacious stomachs. It was this they were thinking of, and the possible lack, at the end of the feast, of the feeling of almost painful satiety120 which is to them an essential after-dinner sensation. In this emergency I contributed four one-pound tins of beef and salmon121, my entire stock of substantial provisions for the adventure in solitude; but I could see that Puarei, as well as the others, regarded this as a mere95 relish—a wholly acceptable but light course of hors-d'?uvre. Fortunately there was at hand an inexhaustible reservoir of food—the sea—and we prepared to go there for further supplies. I never lost an opportunity to witness those fish-spearing expeditions. Once I had tried my hand as a participant and found myself as dangerously out of my element as a Paumotuan would be at 160 the joy stick of an airplane. I saw a great many fish, but I could not have speared one of them if it had been moored122 to the bottom, and after a few absurd attempts was myself fished into the boat, half drowned. I lay there for a few minutes, gasping123 for breath, my ear drums throbbing124 painfully from the attempt to reach unaccustomed depths.
The experiment convinced me that fish spearing in the open sea is not an easily acquired art, but one handed down in its perfection through at least twenty generations of Low Island ancestors. It is falling into disuse in some of the atolls where wealth is accumulating and tinned food plentiful125; but the inhabitants of Rutiaro still follow it with old-time zest126. They handle their spears affectionately, as anglers handle and sort their flies. These are true sportsman's weapons, provided with a single unbarbed dart127, bound with sinnet to a tapering128 shaft129 from eight to ten feet long. Their water goggles130, like their spears, they make for themselves. They are somewhat like an aviator's goggles, disks of clear glass fitted in brass131 rims132, with an inner cushion of rubber which cups closely around the eyes, preventing the entrance of water. When adjusted they give the wearer an owlish appearance, like the horn-rimmed spectacles which used to be affected133 by American undergraduates. Thus equipped, with their pareus girded into loin cloths, a half dozen of the younger men jumped into the rapid current which flows past Soul-Eaters' Island and swam out to sea.
Tohetika, Tehina, Pinga (the boat steerer), and I followed in a canoe. Dawn was at hand and, looking back, I saw the island, my house, and the crowd on the beach in the suffused134, unreal light of sun and fading 161 moon. In front of us the swimmers were already approaching the tumbled waters at the entrance to the pass. Upon reaching it they disappeared together, and I next saw them far on the other side, swimming in a direction parallel to the reef, and some fifty yards beyond the breaking point of the surf. When we joined them the sun was above the horizon and they were already at the sport. They lay face down on the surface of the water, turning their heads now and then for a breath of air. They swam with an easy breast stroke and a barely perceptible movement of the legs, holding their spears with their toes, near the end of the long shaft. Riding the long, smooth swell, it was hard to keep them in view, and they were diving repeatedly, coming to the surface again at unexpected places.
Through the clear water I could see every crevice135 and cranny in the shelving slope of coral; the mouths of gloomy caverns136 which undermined the reef, and swarms137 of fish, as strangely colored as the coral itself, passing through them, flashing across sunlit spaces, or hovering138 in the shadows of overhanging ledges139. It was a strange world to look down upon and stranger still to see men moving about in it as though it were their natural home. Sometimes they grasped their spears as a poniard would be held for a downward blow; sometimes with the thumb forward, thrusting with an underhand movement. They were marvelously quick and accurate at striking. I had a nicer appreciation140 of their skill after my one attempt, which had proven to me how difficult it is to judge precisely141 the distance, the location of the prey142, and the second for the thrust. A novice143 was helpless. He suffered under the heavy pressure of the water, and the long holding of his breath 162 cost him agonized144 effort. Even though he were comfortable physically145 he might chase, with as good result, the dancing reflections of a mirror, turned this way and that in the sunlight.
As they searched the depths to the seaward side the bodies of the fishers grew shadowy, vanished altogether, reappeared as they passed over a lighter146 background of blue or green which marked an invisible shoal. At last they would come clearly into view, the spear held erect79, rising like embodied147 spirits through an element of matchless purity which seemed neither air nor water. The whistling noises which they made as they regained the surface gave the last touch of unreality to the scene. I have never understood the reason for this practice which is universal among the divers42 and fishers of the Low Islands, unless it is that their lungs, being famished148 for air, they breathe it out grudgingly149 through half-closed teeth. Heard against the thunder of the surf, the sounds, hoarse150 or shrill, according to the wont151 of the diver, seemed anything but human.
We returned in an hour's time with the canoe half filled with fish—square-nosed tinga-tingas, silvery tamures, brown spotted152 kitos, gnareas; we had more than made good the loss of the chickens. The preparations for the feast had been completed. The table was set or, better, the cloth of green fronds was laid on the ground near the beach. At each place there was a tin of my corned beef or salmon; the half of a coconut shell filled with raw fish, cut into small pieces in a sauce of miti haari—salted coconut milk—and a green coconut for drinking. Along the center of the table were great piles of fish, baked and raw; roast pork and chicken; mounds153 of bread stacked up like cannon154 163 balls. The bread was not of Moy Ling's baking, but made in native fashion—lumps of boiled dough155 of the size and weight of large grape fruit. One would think that the most optimistic stomach would ache at the prospect of receiving it, but the Paumotuan stomach is of ostrichlike hardihood and, as I have said, after long fasting it demands quantity rather than quality in food.
It was then about half past six, a seasonable hour for the feast, for the air was still cool and fresh. The food was steaming on the table, but we were not yet ready to sit down to it. Fête days, like Sundays, required costumes appropriate to the occasion, and everyone retired156 into the bush to change clothing. I thought then that I was to be the only disreputable banqueter of the lot, and regretted that I had been so eager to see my new house. Not expecting visitors, I had come away from the village with only my supply of food. Fortunately, Puarei had been thoughtful for me. I found not only my white clothing, but my other possessions—bolts of ribbon, perfume, the cheap jewelry157, etc., which I had bought, on credit, of Moy Ling. And the house itself had been furnished and decorated during the hour when I was out with the fish spearers. There was a table and a chair, made of bits of old packing cases, in one corner; and on the sleeping mat a crazy quilt and a pillow with my name worked in red silk within a border of flowers. Hanging from the ceiling was a faded papier-maché bell, the kind one sees in grocers' windows at home at Christmas time. This was originally the gift of some trader; and the pictures, too, which decorated the walls. They had been cut from the advertising158 pages of some 164 American magazine. One of them represented a man, dressed in a much-advertised brand of underwear, who was smiling with cool solicitude159 at two others who were perspiring160 heavily and wishing—if the legend printed beneath was true—that their underwear bore the same stamp as that of their fortunate comrade. There was another, in color, of a woman smiling across a table at her husband, who smiled back while they ate a particular brand of beans. The four walls of my house were hung with pictures of this sort, strung on cords of coconut fiber—Huirai's work, I was sure, done out of the kindness of his heart. He was merely an unconscious agent of the gods, administering this further reproof161 for my temerity162 in seeking consciously an adventure in solitude. As I changed my clothing I pondered the problem as to how I could get rid of the gallery without giving Huirai offense163, and from this I fell to thinking of the people smiling down at me. Is our race made up, in large part, of such out-and-out materialists, whose chief joy in life lies in discovering some hitherto untried brand of soup or talcum powder? Do they live, these people? They looked real enough in the picture. I seemed to know many of them, and I remembered their innumerable prototypes I had met in the world I had left only the year before. "Well, if they are real," I thought, "what has become of the old doomsday men and women who used to stand at street corners with bundles of tracts164 in their hands, saying to passers-by, 'My friend, is your soul saved?'?" No answer came from the smiling materialists on all sides of me. They smiled still, as though in mockery of my attempt to elude165 them in whatsoever166 unfrequented corner of the world; as though life were merely the 165 endless enjoyment of creature comforts, the endless, effortless use of labor-saving devices. One man, in his late fifties, who really ought to have been thinking about his soul, had in his eyes only the light of sensual gratification. He was in pajamas167 and half shaven, announcing to me, to the world at large: "At last! A razor!"
The sight of him offering me his useful little instrument put an end to my meditation168. I rubbed ruefully a three days' growth of beard, thinking of the torture in store for me when I should next go to Pinga for a shave. He was the village barber, as well as its most skillful boat steerer. His other customers were used to his razor and his methods, and their faces were inured169 to pain; for had not their ancestors, through countless170 generations, had their beards plucked out hair by hair? I, on the other hand, was the creature of my own land of creature comforts. The anticipation of a shave was agony, and the realization171—Pinga sitting on my chest, holding my head firm with one immense hand while he scraped and rasped with his dull razor—that was to die weekly and to live to die again. I got what amusement I could from the thought of the different set of values at Rutiaro. I had only to ask for a house, and Puarei had given me one, with an island of my own to set it on. He thought no more of the request than if I had asked him for a drinking coconut. But not all the wealth of the Low Island pearl fisheries, had it been mine to offer, could have procured172 for me a safety razor with a dozen good blades.
I heard Puarei shouting, "Haere mai ta maa!" and went out to join the others, my unshaved beard in woeful contrast to my immaculate white clothing. 166 But my guests, or hosts, had the native courtesy of many primitive173 people, and I was not made conscious of my unreaped chin. Furthermore, everyone was hungry, and so, after Puarei had said grace for the Church of Latter Day Saints, and Huirai a second one for the Reformed Church of Latter Day Saints, and Nui-Tano a third as the Catholic representative, we fell to without further loss of time.
The enjoyment of food is assuredly one of the great blessings174 of life, although it is not a cause for perpetual smiling, as the writers of advertisements would have one believe. According to the Low Island way of thinking, it is not a subject to be talked about at any length. I liked their custom of eating in silence, with everyone giving undivided attention to the business in hand. It gave one the privilege of doing likewise, a relief to a man weary of the unnatural175 dining habits of more advanced people. It may be a trifle gross to think of your food while you are eating it, but it is natural and, if the doctors are to be believed, an excellent aid to digestion176. Now and then Puarei would say, "é mea maitai, tera" ("A thing good, that"), tapping a haunch of roast pork with his forefinger177. And I would reply, "é, é mea maitai roa, tera" ("Yes, a thing very good, that"). Then we would fall to eating again. On my right, Hunga went from fish to pork and from pork to tinned beef, whipping the miti haari to his lips with his fingers without the loss of a drop. Only once he paused for a moment and let his eyes wander the length of the table. Shaking his head with a sigh of satisfaction, he said, "Katinga ahuru katinga" ("Food and yet more food"). There is no phrase sweeter to Paumotuan ears than that one.
167 Huirai, the constable178, was the only one who made any social demands upon me. As already related, he had once made a journey from Papeete to San Francisco as a stoker on one of the mail boats and was immensely proud of the few English phrases which he had picked up during the voyage. He didn't know the meaning of them, but that made no difference. He could put on side before the others, make them believe that he was carrying on an intelligent conversation. "What's the matter?" "Oh yes!" "Never mind" were among his favorite expressions—unusually mild ones, it seemed to me, for one who had been associated with a gang of cockney stokers; and he brought them out apropos179 of nothing. He was an exasperating180 old hypocrite, but a genial115 one, and I couldn't help replying to some of his feints at conversation. Once, out of curiosity, wondering what his reply would be, I said, "Huirai, you're the worst old four-flusher in the seventy-two islands, aren't you?" He smiled and nodded, and came back with the most telling of all his phrases, "You go to hell, me." On that occasion it was delivered with what seemed something more than mere parrotlike aptness of reply.
Clipped to his undershirt he wore a fountain pen, which was as much a part of his costume on those dress occasions as his dungaree trousers and pandanus hat. It had a broken point, was always dry, and, although Huirai read fairly well, he could hardly write his own name. No matter. He would no more have forgotten his pen than a French soldier his Croix de guerre. But he was not alone in his love for these implements181 of the popaa's (white man's) culture. There was Havaiki, for example, who owned a small 168 folding camera which he had bought from some trader. The two men were very jealous of each other. Huirai had traveled and had a fountain pen, but Havaiki's camera was a much more complicated instrument. There had never been any films for it, but he was quite satisfied without them. The camera stood on a shelf at his house, an ever-present proof of his better title to distinction. His chief regret, I believe, was that he couldn't wear it, as Huirai did his pen. But he often carried it with him on Sundays and went through the pretense182 of taking pictures. Some of the more sanguine183 still believed that he would one day surprise the village by producing a large number of magnificent photographs.
A further account of the feast at Soul-Eaters' Island would be nothing more than a detailed184 statement of the amount of food consumed, and it would not be credited as truthful185. It is enough to say that it was a Latter Day miracle, comparable to the feeding of the five thousand, with this reversal of the circumstances—that food for approximately that number was eaten by twenty-two men. At last Puarei sat back with a groan186 of content and said, "Aué! Paia 'huru paia to tatou." It is impossible to translate this literally187, but the exact meaning is, "We are all of us full up to the neck." It was true. We were. That is, all of the men. The women and children were waiting, and as soon as we gave them place they set to on the remnants. Fortunately, there was, as Hunga had said, food and yet more food, so that no one went hungry. At the close of the feast I saw old Rangituki take a fragment of coconut frond54 and weave it into a neat basket. Then she gathered into it all of the fish bones and hung the 169 basket from one of the rafters of my house. Rangituki was pure heathen, one of the unredeemed of the Rutiaroans, but I noticed that some of the Catholics and Latter Day Saints, even the Reformed Saints of the later Latter Day persuasion188, all in good standing in their churches, assisted her in making the collection. I had observed the same practice at other islands. At the beginning of a meal thanks were given to the God of Christians189 for the bounty190 of the sea; but fisherman's luck was a matter of the first importance, and, while the old gods might be overthrown191, there seemed to be a fairly general belief that it would not do to trifle with immemorial custom.
It was midmorning before the last of the broken meats had been removed and the beach made tidy. The breeze died away, and the shadows of the palms moved only with the imperceptible advance of the sun. It was a time for rest, for quiet meditation, and all of the older people were gathered in the shade, gazing out over a sea as tranquil192 as their minds, as lonely as their lives had always been and would always be. I knew that they would remain thus throughout the day, talking a little, after the refreshment193 of light slumbers194, but for the most part sitting without speech or movement, their consciousness crossed by vague thoughts which would stir it scarcely more than the cat's-paw ruffled195 the surface of the water. No sudden, half-anguished realization of the swift passage of time would disturb the peace of their reverie; no sense of old loss to be retrieved196 would goad197 them into swift and feverish198 action.
A land crab199 moved across a strip of sunlight and sidled into his hole, pulling his grotesque200 little shadow 170 after him; and the children, restless little spirits, splashed and shouted in the shallows of the lagoon, maneuvering201 fleets of empty beef and salmon tins—reminders of the strange beginning of my adventure in solitude.
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1
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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kapok
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| n.木棉 | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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15
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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coconut
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| n.椰子 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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21
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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24
lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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25
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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29
repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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31
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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32
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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33
accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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34
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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38
delve
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| v.深入探究，钻研 | |
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39
distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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40
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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41
scantly
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| 缺乏地，仅仅 | |
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42
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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43
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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44
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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45
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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46
gregarious
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| adj.群居的，喜好群居的 | |
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47
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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48
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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49
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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50
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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51
convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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52
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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53
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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54
frond
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| n.棕榈类植物的叶子 | |
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55
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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56
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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57
repealing
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| 撤销，废除( repeal的现在分词 ) | |
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58
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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59
attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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60
blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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61
temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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63
memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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66
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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67
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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68
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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69
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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70
dissemination
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| 传播,宣传,传染(病毒) | |
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71
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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72
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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73
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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74
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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75
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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78
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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82
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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84
schooling
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| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
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85
sloughed
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| v.使蜕下或脱落( slough的过去式和过去分词 )；舍弃；除掉；摒弃 | |
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86
revels
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| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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87
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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88
cylinders
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| n.圆筒( cylinder的名词复数 )；圆柱；汽缸；（尤指用作容器的）圆筒状物 | |
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89
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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tempo
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| n.(音乐的)速度；节奏，行进速度 | |
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91
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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92
tambourines
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| n.铃鼓，手鼓( tambourine的名词复数 )；（鸣声似铃鼓的）白胸森鸠 | |
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unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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99
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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101
vaudeville
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| n.歌舞杂耍表演 | |
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102
troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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103
comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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104
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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105
phonetic
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| adj.语言的，语言上的，表示语音的 | |
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106
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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107
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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108
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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109
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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110
entice
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| v.诱骗，引诱，怂恿 | |
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111
coconuts
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| n.椰子( coconut的名词复数 )；椰肉，椰果 | |
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112
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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114
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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115
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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116
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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117
prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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118
wholesomeness
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| 卫生性 | |
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119
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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120
satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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121
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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122
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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123
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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124
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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125
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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126
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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127
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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128
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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129
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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130
goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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131
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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132
rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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133
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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134
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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136
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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137
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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138
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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139
ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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140
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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141
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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142
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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143
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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144
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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145
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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146
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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147
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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148
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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149
grudgingly
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150
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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151
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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152
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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153
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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154
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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155
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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156
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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157
jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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158
advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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159
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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160
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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161
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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162
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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163
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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164
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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165
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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166
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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167
pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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168
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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169
inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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170
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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171
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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172
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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173
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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174
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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175
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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176
digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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177
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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178
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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179
apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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180
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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181
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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182
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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183
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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184
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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185
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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186
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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187
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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188
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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189
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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190
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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191
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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192
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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193
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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194
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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195
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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196
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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197
goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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198
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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199
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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200
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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201
maneuvering
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的现在分词 )；操纵 | |
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