It was on Nukutere that I found that curious fellow, Tari, at home. Friends often smile at my passion for wild fowl1, yet I owe this peaceful adventure entirely2 to a duck. For several days I had been awaiting a chance to photograph the sky line of the island, and when, one afternoon, the clouds about the peaks dispersed3, I put my camera into a small outrigger canoe and paddled down the lagoon4, on the lookout5 for the viewpoint of greatest beauty. I had gone a number of 252 miles and the sun was low when I found the view I wanted; though the silhouette6 of Nukutere was clear-cut, there were clouds in the west and the light was not strong enough for an instantaneous picture. The lagoon is narrow at this point; there was nothing to do but paddle out to the reef and set up my tripod in the shallow wash of the sea. In this manner I made ten exposures—pretty things they must have been, with the long evening shadows, the foreshore of dark bush beyond the water, the high profile of peaks and jagged ridges8 against the sky.
I folded the steel tripod and stowed the camera in its case; just as I pushed off to paddle back to the village I heard the whimper of a duck's wings in leisurely9 flight. I have a very fair acquaintance with the ducks of the northern hemisphere, which winter in considerable numbers in Hawaii and occasionally drift down as far as Penrhyn Island, nine degrees south of the equator; but though it must be well known in scientific quarters, the odd nonmigratory duck of the South Seas is a puzzle to me. It is an unsocial bird, this Polynesian cousin of the mallard; a lover of solitude11, a haunter of thick woods and lonely valleys; though I have seen them many times in the distance, I have been unable to obtain a specimen12 so far. I used to wonder how they survived the swarms14 of bloodthirsty island rats until a friend wrote me from the Cook group: "On top of the razor-back ridge7 behind the plantation15, the dogs put up a duck almost under our feet. I found the nest well hidden in the fern—a beautifully constructed affair, edged with a coaming of down, curled inward. There were eight eggs, standing17 on end and arranged to occupy the least 253 possible space. When the ducklings appear the old bird must carry them down one at a time—a thousand feet or more—to the swampy18 feeding grounds."
I could tell by the sound of its wings that the duck approaching me over the lagoon was closer than any I had seen; in my eagerness for a glimpse I forgot all about cameras and canoes. I flung myself around to look, intent and open-mouthed. Next moment the outrigger heaved up with the speed of a rolling porpoise19, described a flashing arc through the air, and smacked20 heavily into the water closing over my head. It was a fast bit of comedy. The coral anchor and my tripod went to the bottom; I caught the camera instinctively21 and rose, sputtering22, to the surface, where I managed to balance it on the flat bottom of the canoe. Then, as the water was not deep, and I had on nothing but a singlet and a pareu, I swam down to get the tripod, and started for shore, pushing the canoe before me. Ahead on the beach two girls and a boy were dancing and rolling in the sand; as the water left my ears I could hear their screams of joy. For the moment I found myself unable to join in the mirth. My thoughts dwelt on cameras and on a story I had heard the night before—how a fisherman, not far from where I was, had felt a tug23 at his waist as he swam with face submerged, watching the bottom, and turned to see a shark of imposing24 size nip off the largest fish on his string.
The closer sight of me seemed to redouble the appreciation25 of my audience, but it was not until I was splashing in the shallows that I was able to smile. Then I saw that the elder of the girls was Apakura, the wife of Tari. She had been washing clothes at the 254 mouth of a little stream and came forward, bare-armed and smiling maliciously26, to greet me.
"Ah, you have come to bathe in the sea," she said, as I took her hand, and at this enormous joke all three fell into such a convulsion of laughter that they were obliged to sink down on the sand once more. When she had caught her breath she turned to call her husband: "E Tari! E Tari e! Aere mai ikonei!" A moment later he stepped out of the bush, rubbing from his eyes the sleep of an afternoon nap, and I was shaking his hand.
I know Tari rather well, and have spent a good deal of time within a few miles of where he lives, yet I had been in his house only once before. This is characteristic of the islands. There is an agreeable indifference27 about the relations of white men down here, a careless friendliness28 I find pleasanter than the more strained and effusive29 sociality of civilized30 places. In every part of the world, of course, this tranquil31 simplicity—the essence of the finest manner—is to be found among the few who have studied the art of living, but the average one of us is neither sure enough of himself nor sufficiently32 indifferent to the opinion of others; handicapped by an abnormal sense of obligation, we permit ourselves both to bore and to be bored. In certain respects the native is a very well-bred man; perhaps the white intruder has caught something of his manner—or it may be that distance from home brings life into a truer focus; in any case, one deals with the white man of the islands without consciousness of an effort either to entertain or to impress. When you stop at the house of a strange planter he will offer you a whisky-and-soda—if you refuse, nothing more 255 will be said of the matter. At home, with a parching33 throat, it is quite conceivable that you might tell your chance host not to bother, looking forward with hopeful hypocrisy34 to his persuasion35 and your own inevitable36 acceptance. I think I liked Tari the better for not having asked me to his house; now that hazard had brought me to the door, he made me feel that I was really welcome.
The house was set on a little rise of land, with a view of the lagoon at the end of an avenue of tall coconut37 palms. The broad veranda38, set with steamer chairs and scarlet-bordered Aitutaki mats, gave on a garden of small flowering trees—"Frangipani," "Tiare Tahiti," "Maid of Moorea," "Queen of the Night." Tari showed me to a corner room, and mixed a rum punch while his wife put buttons on a fresh suit of drill.
Dressed in his clothes, I strolled into the living room to wait while he was changing for dinner. The place was large, and one might have spent hours examining the things it contained—the fruit of twenty years in the South Seas. There were wreaths of bright-colored shell—the favorite parting gift of the islands—from the Paumotus, from Raiatea, from Aitutaki, and Mangaias. There were fans from Manihiki, woven in patterns of dyed pandanus, and Savage39 Island fans, decorated with human hair. Ranged on a series of shelves, I found a notable collection of penus—the taro40-mashers of eastern Polynesia, implements41 in which the culture of each group expresses itself. I was able to recognize the pestle43 of Mangaia, eight-sided and carved with almost geometrical perfection from a stalactite of pink lime; the Marquesan penu 256 of dark volcanic44 stone with its curious phallic handle; the implement42 of old Tahiti, gracefully46 designed and smoothly47 finished by a people far removed from savagery48; the rare and beautiful penu of Maupiti—unobtainable to-day—perfect as though turned on a lathe49, and adorned50 with a fantastic handle of ancient and forgotten significance. Mother-of-pearl bonito hooks from a dozen groups were there, and on a table I saw a rare Toki Tiki from Mangaia, an odd thing which, for want of a better name, might be called a Peace Adze. It is a slender little tower of carved wood, set with tiers of windows and surmounted51 by a stone adze head, lashed52 on with wrappings of sennit, above which extend a pair of pointed53 ears. The carving—in the close-grained yellow wood of the Pua—is exquisitely54 done; I recognized the standard patterns of the islands—the Shark's Teeth, the Dropping Water, and the intricate Tiki Tangata. The significance of the Peace Adze was religious and ceremonial; the story goes that when, at the end of a period of fighting, two Mangaian clans55 decided56 to make peace, the adze played a leading part in the attendant ceremony. A handful of earth was dug up with its head to show that the ground might now be cultivated, and the people were told that they might come and go unmolested, freely as the air through the windowlike openings on its sides. Tari had real adzes as well—the tools with which trees were chopped down and canoes hollowed out—stone implements of a perfection I have never seen elsewhere, carved out of basaltic rock, hard and close as steel, smoothed by processes at which one can only guess, sharp and symmetrical as the product of modern machines.
The Marquesan curiosities interested me most of all—relics 257 of those dark valleys which harbored the most strangely fascinating of all the island peoples. There were ornaments58 of old men's beards, arranged in little sennit-bound tufts, crinkled and yellowish white; beaked59 clubs of ironwood, elegantly carved and smooth with countless60 oilings; ear pendants cut in delicate filigree61 from the teeth of sperm62 whales; grotesque63 little wooden gods, monstrous64 and bizarre; ceremonial food bowls of Tamanu, adorned with the rich and graceful45 designs of a culture now forever gone. One felt that the spirits of forgotten artists hovered65 about the place, beckoning66 one back to days a century before Melville set foot in the valley of Taipi, to scenes of a strange beauty on which mankind will never look again. Some day—perhaps in a future less remote than we like to fancy—nature's careless hand may once more set the stage for a similar experiment, but the people sequestered67 in those gloomy islands will be of another blood, and the result can never be the same. The Marquesans themselves—if one is to believe the students of antique mankind—were the result of a racial retrogression; their continental68 forebears knew iron and pottery69 and the culture of rice—things lost in the eastward70 push which brought them to the Nine Islands of Iva.
One curious trinket—labeled "Fatu Hiva"—caught my eye; a squat71 little figure carved in a sawn-off length of yellow ivory. I examined it closely; it had the air of being at least a hundred years old, and the concentric rings of the section showed it to be the tooth or tusk72 of some large animal. Where could the Marquesan carver have obtained such a lump of ivory on which to exercise his skill? Could it be possible 258 that this was the tusk of an elephant, carved not one hundred but many centuries ago, and preserved by the people of these distant islands—an immemorial relic57 of the days when their ancestors left Persia or the Indian hills? I looked again; it was large enough to be part of a small tusk, but the section was flatter than any elephant ivory I had seen. What could it be? Not the tooth of a hippopotamus—it was too large for that; not the sword of a narwhal, which shows a betraying spiral twist. Then I thought of a walrus73 tusk, and the story seemed clear. Seventy-five or a hundred years ago some whaling vessel74, after a venture in the northern ice, must have sailed south and put in at Fatu Hiva for water or wood or fruit. They had killed walrus off Cape75 Lisburne or in the Kotzebue Sound and, as was the habit of whalers, some of the tusks76 had been kept for scrimshaw work. Knowing the Polynesian passion for ivory (in Tonga it was death for any but those of the highest rank to take the teeth of a stranded77 sperm whale) it is not difficult to imagine the rest—a lantern-jawed Yankee harpooner78, perhaps, trading his walrus tusk for a canoeload of fruit or the favors of an exceptionally pretty girl.
I was examining a paddle from Manihiki—a graceful, narrow-bladed thing, carved out of porcupine79 wood and set with diamonds of mother-of-pearl—when Tari came in.
"A pretty paddle, isn't it?" he remarked. "You won't find a more curious one in the Pacific. Notice the way that reinforcing ridge runs down the blade from the haft? Everything has a meaning in primitive80 stuff of this sort; the original pattern from which this has descended81 probably came from a land of little trees, 259 where the paddles had to be made in two pieces—blade lashed to handle. Look at the shape of it—more like a Zulu assegai than anything else; it is a weapon, primarily; a thrust of it would kill a naked man. The Manihiki people spend a lot of their time in canoes on the open sea—after bonito by day and flying-fish by night—and those waters swarm13 with sharks. They have developed their paddle into a weapon of defence. The Samoans carried a special shark club for the same purpose."
I asked his opinion on the disputed question of sharks—whether, in general, the shark is a real menace to the swimmer or the paddler of a small canoe.
"I've heard a lot of loose talk," he said; "how learned societies have offered rewards for a genuine instance of a shark attacking a man, but I have seen enough to know that there is no room for argument. Some idiot goes swimming off a vessel in shark-infested waters, and talks all the rest of his life, perhaps, of the silly fears of others—never realizing that he owes his life to the fact that none of the sharks about him chanced to be more than usually hungry. The really hungry shark is a ravening82 murderer—dangerous as a wounded buffalo83, reckless as a mad dog.... I have seen one tear the paddle from the hand of a man beside me and sink its teeth, over and over again in a frenzy84, in the bottom of a heavy canoe. How long do you suppose a swimmer would have lived? And it's not only the big sharks that are dangerous. I remember one day when a lot of us were bathing in Penrhyn lagoon. Suddenly one of the boys gave a shout and began to struggle with something in the waist-deep water—clouded with blood by the time I got there. 260 A small tiger shark, scarcely a yard long, had gouged85 a piece of flesh out of his leg, and continued to attack until a big Kanaka seized it by the tail and waded86 to the beach, holding the devilish little brute87, snapping its jaws88 and writhing89 frantically90, at arm's length. As he reached the dry sand the native allowed his arm to relax for an instant; the shark set its teeth in his side and tore out a mouthful that nearly cost the man his life."
The voice of Apakura was summoning us to eat. "Kaikai!" she called: "Aere mai korua!" Tari's dining room was a section of the side veranda, screened off with lattices of bamboo, where we found a table set for two, fresh with flowers and damask. Apakura sat cross-legged on a mat near by; she was weaving a hat of native grass and looked up from her work now and then to speak to the girl who served us—admonishing, scolding, and joking in turn. Tari followed my glance, and smiled as he caught the eye of his wife.
"It probably strikes you as odd that she doesn't sit with us," he said to me. "I tried to get her into the way of it at first, but it's no good. For generations the women of her family have been forbidden to eat in the presence of men, and the old tapu dies hard. Then she hates chairs; when she sits with me she is wretchedly uncomfortable, and bolts her food in a scared kind of way that puts me off my feed. It is best to let them follow their own customs; she likes to sit on the floor there and order her cousin about; when we've finished they'll adjourn91 to the cook house for dinner and discuss you till your ears tingle92. Housekeeping down here is a funny, haphazard93 business—hopeless 261 if one demands what one had at home; easy and pleasant if one is willing to compromise a bit. To a man who understands the natives at all the servant question does not exist; they will jump at a chance to attach themselves to your household—the trouble is to keep them away. It isn't wages they are after; I pay these people nothing at all for cooking and washing and looking after the place. They like to be where tea and sugar and ship's biscuit are in plenty, and they like to be amused. An occasional stranger, coming and going like yourself, gives them no end of food for talk; I have a phonograph I let them play, and a seine I let them take out for a day's fishing now and then. Once a month, perhaps, I kill a pig and give a bit of a party, and once or twice in a year I get a bullock and let them invite all their relatives to a real umukai. In return for all this they look after my fifty acres of coconuts94, make my copra, do my housework, cooking, and laundry, and provide me with all the native food I can use. It strikes me as a fair bargain, from my point of view, at least. It is understood that they are not to bother me; unless there is work to do or they want to see me they never set foot in the house.
"My greatest trouble has been to get some idea of regularity95 into their heads. These people cannot understand why we prefer to eat our dinner at the same hour every day. Where contact with the white man has not changed their habits, they eat whenever they are hungry—at midnight or at four in the morning, if they chance to be awake. Even here they can't understand my feelings when dinner is an hour or two late."
262 The cousin of Apakura took away the remnants of a dish of raw fish and brought us a platter heaped with roast breadfruit, taro, yams, and sweet potatoes, served with a pitcher96 of tai akari—the sea water and coconut sauce, worthy97 of a place on any table. It is only the uncivilized white who turns up his nose at native food; the island's vegetables are both wholesome98 and delicious, and cannot be cooked better than in a Maori oven. A certain amount of European food is necessary to health, but the sallow, provincial99 white man, who takes a sort of racial pride in living on the contents of tins, need not be surprised that the climate of the islands does not agree with him. It is the same type, usually with no other cause for pride than the fact that he chanced to be born white, whose voice is most frequently heard declaiming on the subject of color. Everywhere in the islands, of course, the color line exists—a subtle barrier between the races, not to be crossed with impunity100; but the better sort of white man is ready to admit that God, who presumably made him, also made the native, and made of the Polynesian a rather fine piece of work. Tari had stepped across with eyes open, counting the cost, realizing all that he must relinquish101. He is not a man to make such a decision lightly; in his case the step meant severing102 the last material tie with home, giving up forever the Englishman's dreams of white children and an old age in the pleasant English countryside. His children—if children came to him—would have skins tinted103 by a hundred generations of hot sunlight, and look at him with strange, dark eyes, liquid and shy—the eyes of an elder race, begotten104 when the world was young. His old age would be spent on this remote and forgotten 263 bit of land, immensely isolated105 from the ancestral background to which most men return at last. As the shadows gathered in the evening of his life there would be long days of reading and reflection—stretched in a steamer chair on this same veranda, while the trade hummed through the palm tops and the sea rumbled106 softly on the reef. At night, lying wakeful as old men do, in a hush107 broken only by the murmur108 of a lonely sea, his thoughts would wander back—a little sadly, as the thoughts of an old man must—along a hundred winding109 paths of memory, through scenes wild and lovely, savage, stern, and gay. Dimly out of the past would appear the faces of men and women—long since dead and already only vaguely110 remembered—the companions of his youth, once individually vibrant111 with the current of life, now moldering alike in forgotten graves. They would be a strangely assorted112 company, Tari's ghosts: men of all the races, scholars, soldiers, sportsmen, skippers of trading vessels113, pearl divers114 of the atolls, nurses of the Red Cross, Englishwomen of his own station in life, dark-eyed daughters of the islands, with shining hair and the beauty of sleek115, wild creatures—bewitching and soulless, half bold and half afraid. Whether for good or ill, wisely or unwisely, as the case might be, no man could say that Tari had not lived; I wondered what the verdict would be when, in the days to come, he cast up the balance of his life....
Apakura ceased her plaiting and began to measure off the narrow braid, delicately woven in a pattern of black and white, which would eventually be sewn in spirals to make a hat—my hat, by the way, for it had been promised to me weeks before. One fathom116, two 264 fathoms117, three fathoms—another two fathoms were needed, work for the odd moments of a month. Some day—in an uncertain future and on a distant island, perhaps—the cabin boy of a schooner118 would step ashore119 and present me with a box containing this same hat, superbly new, decorated with a gay puggree and lined with satin bearing my initials in silk. Meanwhile, though I would have given much for a new hat, there was nothing to do but wait. Like other things of native make, a hat cannot be bought with money; the process of manufacture is too laborious120 to be other than a matter of good will. Think of the work that goes into one of these hats. First of all—far off in the mountains—the stalks of aeho (Erianthus floridulus) must be gathered. These are split when thoroughly121 dry, and the two halves scraped thin as paper before being split again into tiny strips of fiber122 less than a sixteenth of an inch wide. A certain amount of the aeho, depending on the pattern to be woven, must now be dyed—usually black or in a shade of brown. From a dozen to twenty of these strands—dyed and undyed—are plaited into the flexible braid of which the hat is built up—a task requiring extraordinary patience and skill. Such hats are made only for relatives and close friends; if an unmarried girl gives one to a man the gift has the same significance as the pair of earrings123 he would give in return. When a native boy appears with a new and gorgeous hat, the origin of which is veiled in doubt, village gossip hums until the truth is known; even the classic sewing circle of New England can show no faster or more efficient work than these artless brown women, standing knee deep in the waters of some dashing stream, prattling124, laughing, 265 shattering the reputations of absent sisters, as they pound and wring125 the soapy clothes.
When dinner was over and Tari was filling his pipe in the living room I took up the lamp for a glance at the titles on his shelves of books. Side by side with the transactions of the Polynesian Society and the modern works of S. Percy Smith and McMillan Brown, I found Mariner's Tonga, Abraham Fornander's Account of the Polynesian Race: Its Origin and Migration126, Lieut. William Bligh's Voyage to the South Seas for the Purpose of Conveying the Bread-fruit Tree to the West Indies, in His Majesty's Ship the "Bounty127," and the Polynesian Researches of William Ellis. I took down a volume of Ellis; Tari crossed the room to glance over my shoulder at the quaint10 title page—it was evident that he loved his books.
"Tahiti was the most interesting of all the islands," he said, as we sat down, "and the best accounts of old Tahiti are those of Bligh and Ellis. Bligh wrote from the standpoint of a worldly man and, though he was unable to speak the language fluently and stopped only a few months on the island, he has left an extraordinarily128 vivid and detailed129 picture of the native life before European religion and trade began their work of change. Ellis was a missionary130 of the finest sort—broad-minded as religious men go, inspired by the purest of motives131, a close and sympathetic observer, and able to appreciate much of the beauty and interest of the old life. If you believe that one branch of mankind is justified132 in almost forcibly spreading its religion among the other races, and that trade should follow the Bible, you will enjoy every page of Ellis. His point of view concerning temporal matters is summed up in 266 this volume, at the end of a chapter on Hawaii. Here it is: 'Their intercourse133 with foreigners has taught many of the chiefs to prefer a bedstead to the ground, and a mattress134 to a mat; to sit on a chair, eat at a table, use a knife and fork, etc. This we think advantageous135, not only to those who visit them for purposes of commerce, but to the natives themselves, as it increases their wants, and consequently stimulates136 to industry.' There you hear the voice of the mechanical age, which began a hundred years ago and ended—I rather fancy—when we fired the last shots of the war. Increase their wants, advertise, speed up production—whatever the impalpable cost, make the way smooth for the swift wheels of progress—those are the germs of a disease from which the world may need another century to recover. But the change in these islands was only the insignificant137 corollary of a greater change throughout the world; Ellis and his kind were no more than the inevitable instruments of a harsh Providence138.
"Ellis's book was published in eighteen thirty-one. During the eighty-nine years that have passed since that date we have seized the islands and profited largely by them—as coaling stations, as naval139 bases, as sources of valuable raw material, as markets for our surplus manufactured goods. What have we done for the natives in return? Instead of the industrious140, piously141 happy, and increasing communities foreseen by the missionaries142 as the result of their efforts, one finds a depressed143 and dying people, robbed of their old beliefs and secretly skeptical144 of the new. We who conduct our wars in so humane145 and chivalrous146 a spirit have taught them to abolish human sacrifice and to stop the savage fighting which horrified147 the first messengers of 267 Christianity, but, in the case of the islands of which Ellis wrote, the benefits of civilization end here. Infanticide is now a punishable crime and rarely practiced, but perhaps it is as well to have children and to kill a certain number of them, as to be rendered sterile148 by imported disease. After all, infanticide, repulsive149 though it may be, is only a primitive form of the birth control which is making its appearance in Europe and America, as the continents—the white man's islands—approach the limit of population.
"As for true religious faith of the kind which the missionaries sincerely hoped to instill, that plays in the life of the Kanaka a part of about the same importance as in the life of the average white man. Don't think I am cynical150 in saying this—I respect and envy men who possess real faith; they are the ones by whom every great task is accomplished151. But the religion of the native is less than skin deep; his observance of the Sabbath day a survival of the old tapu; his churchgoing and singing of hymns—satisfying the social instinct, the love of gossip, the desire to be seen in fine clothes—replace the old-time dance, wrestling matches, and exhibitions of the areoi. You have seen something of the outer islands, where the people are half savage even to-day, still swayed by what we call heathen superstition152. Now consider Tahiti, where the people for more than a hundred years have been subjected to exhortations153 of an intensity154 almost unparalleled. If it is possible to inject our religion into their blood, it must have been accomplished in Tahiti, but in my opinion the efforts of three generations of missionaries have produced a result surprisingly small on this island—the most civilized of the South 268 Pacific—where heathen superstition is far from dead to-day.
"Before the schooners155 took to Penrhyn Lagoon we used to spend the hurricane season in Papeete; I never cared much for towns; I usually put in the time wandering about the more remote districts. Civilization has barely scratched the inner life of Tahiti. Men who wear trousers and go to church by day would fear to sleep at night unless a lamp burned in the house to repel156 the varua ino and ghastly tupapau of their ancestors. If a girl falls ill the native doctor—a lineal descendant of the heathen priest—is called in. 'What have you done during the past week?' he asks.... 'You spoke157 harshly to that old woman? Ah, I knew there was a cause!' He administers a remedy in the form of a certain bath or a sprinkling with the water of a young coconut, and takes his leave. If the girl recovers it is a remarkable158 instance of the doctor's skill; if she dies it is proof that her offense159 was too grave to be remedied. Perhaps a ghost walks and the native doctor is again consulted. 'It is your wife who comes to trouble you at night? How was she buried?' Eventually the grave is opened and the body found to be lying face down; when turned on her back and again covered with earth the lady is content, and ceases her disreputable prowlings.
"I am not convinced that all of these things are absurdity160.... I told you, when we were on the schooner, about some of my curious experiences in this group. There are happenings fully16 as strange on Tahiti and Moorea. You must have heard of what the natives call varua ino—a vague variety of devil, a sort of earth spirit, quite unhuman and intensely malignant161. The 269 people are not fond of discussing this subject, and their beliefs have become so tangled162 that it is impossible to get a straightforward163 story, but as nearly as I can make out, numbers of these varua ino are thought to lie in wait wherever a man or woman is dying, struggling fiercely with one another in their effort to catch and devour164 the departing human soul. If the spirit makes its escape the first time the ravening watchers do not give up hope, but linger about the body, to which the soul is apt to return from time to time during the day or two following death. The human soul, at this stage, is considered nearly as malignant and dangerous as the varua ino—you can see what a garbled165 business it is. Sometimes an earth spirit enters the corrupted166 body and walks abroad at night. On one subject the natives all agree: the struggles of the preying167 spirits and the human soul are apt to be marked by splashes and pools of blood—whose blood I have never learned to my satisfaction.
"A friend of mine—an educated and skeptical Englishman, in whose word I have the utmost confidence—was the witness of one of these blood-splashing affairs. He lived on Moorea, just across from Tahiti; Haapiti was the village, I think. One afternoon he whistled to his fox terrier and strolled to a near-by house, where the body of a native (an old fellow he had liked) lay in state, surrounded by mourning relatives. As he stood on the veranda the dog began to growl168 furiously, and at the same moment the oldest man present—a sort of doctor and authority on spiritual matters—shouted out suddenly that everyone must leave the house. The native explained afterward169 that he had caught a glimpse of something like a small comet—a 270 shapeless and luminous170 body, trailing a fiery171 tail—rushing horizontally toward the rear of the building. The people gathered outside in a bit of a panic; the fox terrier seemed to have gone mad on the porch—alternately cowing and leaping forward with frenzied172 growls173 toward some invisible thing. All at once there was a great racket of overturned furniture inside the house, and next moment the Englishman saw gouts of what looked like blood splashing over the outer wall and the floor of the veranda. The dog was covered—it was a week before his coat was clean. The net result of the affair was that the veranda needed a cleaning, a couple of tables were overturned, and the body of the old man considerably174 disturbed; but its most curious feature is the fact that my friend—suspecting native trickery and the desire to impress a white man—took a specimen of the blood across to Papeete, where he got the hospital people to examine it. It was human blood beyond a doubt. What do you make of that?
"The other evening, when I was having a yarn175 with Apakura, she told me about another kind of varua ino, who figures as the villain176 in the tale of a Polynesian Cinderella. It may interest you. A great many years ago, on Ahu Ahu, there was a man named Tautu—one of Apakura's family—a renowned177 fighting man, who dabbled178 in sorcery when there were no wars to be fought. Tall, handsome, and famous, it was no wonder that Tautu was pursued by all the island girls—scheming sisters, in particular, who went so far as to build a hut near where he lived. Hoping to catch the eye of the hero, they took their finest ornaments and robes of tapa and went to live in the hut, accompanied 271 by their little sister, Titiara, who was to act as a drudge179 about the house. Young Titiara had no designs on Tautu, and she possessed180 no finery to make herself beautiful in his eyes, but one day, when she was gathering181 wood in the bush, he chanced to pass. Stopping to speak with her, he was struck with her goodness and beauty, and from that time the two met every day in the forest. The older sisters, meanwhile, were the victims of a mischievous182 earth spirit which haunted the vicinity and visited them in the guise183 of Tautu. They were triumphant—when it was known that they had won the warrior184's favors all their friends would be wild with jealousy185; they could not resist preening186 themselves before their little sister. 'Tautu loves us,' they told her; 'he comes every day when you are off gathering wood.' 'But that is impossible,' said Titiara, 'for Tautu is my lover; he meets me each day in the forest.' The older girls laughed scornfully at this, but Titiara said no more until she met her lover in the evening. When she told him what her sisters had said, he laughed. 'It is a varua ino,' he informed her, 'a mischievous spirit whose true appearance is that of a hideous187 old man. To-morrow I will prove to your sisters that it is not I who visit them.' That night Tautu sat up late, weaving a magic net of hibiscus bark—a net which had the property of causing a spirit to assume its true shape. Next afternoon Tautu and Titiara stole up to the house where the spirit, in the form of a splendid warrior, was talking and laughing with the two sisters. Tautu cast the net; next moment the spirit was howling and struggling in the magic meshes188, unable to escape, moaning as it shriveled and changed to the appearance of an old man, graybearded, 272 trembling, and hideous. The two sisters shrank back in loathing189 and mortification190, while Tautu told them that he had chosen Titiara to be his wife."
As he finished his story Tari rose, crossed the room to a bookshelf, and returned to hand me a volume bound in worn yellow leather.
"I'm going to turn in now," he remarked; "we'll go fishing in the morning if you will plan to stop over. Take this to your room if you are not sleepy; it is worth running over—Bligh's account of the voyage of the Bounty, published at Dublin in seventeen ninety-two."
Propped191 up in bed, with a lamp burning on the table beside me, I opened Bligh's quaint and earnest account of his voyage. The mutiny, the commander's passage in an open boat from Tonga to Timor, and the settlement of the mutineers on Pitcairn Island have been made familiar by a voluminous and sentimental192 literature, but I had never before come across the story of Bligh's residence among the natives of Tahiti, one hundred and thirty-two years ago.
More than any other Eastern island, perhaps, Tahiti was the cradle of the oceanic race; called the Lap of God by Kamapiikai, the fabled193 Hawaiian voyager, who discovered, in the southern group, the fountain of eternal youth. Knowing something of the island as it is to-day, I had listened with interest when Tari remarked, "Civilization has barely scratched the inner life of Tahiti." Bligh was a close observer, blessed with insight and a pleasant sense of humor; at the time of his visit the people were untouched by European influence. It is interesting to check his observations against what any traveler may see nowadays—to judge for oneself how deeply the civilization 273 of Europe has been able to modify the peculiarities194 of Polynesian character.
The family of Pomare, of which the chief Tu (called Otoo by Cook, Tinah by Bligh) was the founder195, owed its rise to power largely to the friendship of the English. Bligh often entertained Tinah and his wife, Iddeah, on board the Bounty—they must have been amusing parties. "Tinah was fed by one of his attendants, who sat by him for that purpose ... and I must do him the justice to say he kept his attendant constantly employed: there was, indeed, little reason to complain of want of appetite in any of my guests. As the women are not allowed to eat in presence of the men, Iddeah dined with some of her companions about an hour afterward, in private, except that her husband, Tinah, favored them with his company and seemed to have entirely forgotten that he had already dined." In his rambles196 about the island Bligh noticed precisely197 what strikes one to-day: "In any house that we wished to enter we always experienced a kind reception and without officiousness. The Otaheiteans have the most perfect easiness of manners, equally free from forwardness and formality. When they offer refreshments198, if they are not accepted, they do not think of offering them the second time; for they have not the least idea of that ceremonious kind of refusal which expects a second invitation." Bligh was not deceived, like the French philosophers who read Bougainville's account of Tahiti, and rhapsodized about the beauty of a life free from all restraint; he remarked the deep-rooted system of class inherent in the island race, a system of which the outward marks are gone, but which is far from dead to-day. "Among people so free from ostentation199 274 as the Otaheiteans, and whose manners are so simple and natural, the strictness with which the punctilios of rank are observed is surprising. I know not if any action, however meritorious200, can elevate a man above the class in which he was born, unless he were to acquire sufficient power to confer dignity on himself. If any woman of the inferior classes has a child by an Earee it is not suffered to live."
Bligh's observations on the gay and humorous character of the people and their extraordinary levity201 might have been written yesterday. "Some of my constant visitors had observed that we always drank His Majesty's health as soon as the cloth was removed; but they were by this time become so fond of wine that they would frequently remind me of the health in the middle of dinner by calling out, 'King George Earee no Brittanee'; and would banter202 me if the glass was not filled to the brim. Nothing could exceed the mirth and jollity of these people when they met on board." One day Tinah told Bligh of an island "to the eastward of Otaheite four or five days' sail, and that there were large animals upon it with eight legs. The truth of this account he very strenuously203 insisted upon and wished me to go thither204 with him. I was at a loss to know whether or not Tinah himself gave credit to this whimsical and fabulous205 account; for though they have credulity sufficient to believe anything, however improbable, they are at the same time so much addicted206 to that species of wit which we call humbug207 that it is frequently difficult to distinguish whether they are in jest or in earnest." On another occasion, while walking near a place of burial, Bligh was "surprised by a sudden outcry of grief. As I expressed a desire to see 275 the distressed208 person, Tinah took me to the place, where I found a number of women, one of whom was the mother of a young female child that lay dead. On seeing us their mourning not only immediately ceased, but, to my astonishment209, they all burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, and, while we remained, appeared much diverted at our visit. I told Tinah the woman had no sorrow for her child, otherwise her grief would not have so easily subsided210, on which he jocosely211 told her to cry again: they did not, however, resume their mourning in our presence. This strange behavior would incline us to think them hard-hearted and unfeeling did we not know that they are fond parents and, in general, very affectionate: it is therefore to be ascribed to their extreme levity of disposition212; and it is probable that death does not appear to them with so many terrors as it does to people of a more serious cast."
When the surgeon of the Bounty died and was buried ashore "some of the chiefs were very inquisitive213 about what was to be done with the surgeon's cabin, on account of apparitions214. They said when a man died in Otaheite and was carried to the Tupapow that as soon as night came he was surrounded by spirits, and if any person went there by himself they would devour him: therefore they said that not less than two people together should go into the surgeon's cabin for some time." I thought of Tari and his tales of the varua ino ... four generations of schools and churches have failed to work a metamorphosis.
I read on till drowsiness215 overcame me and the pages blurred216 before my eyes. It was late and the night was 276 very calm; a vagrant217 night breeze, wandering down from the mountains, rustled218 gently among the fronds219 of the old palms around the house. When the rustling220 ceased—so faint as to be almost inaudible—I could hear the far-off whisper of the sea. The world about me was asleep; I roused myself with an effort, adjusted the mosquito net, and blew out the lamp.
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1
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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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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swampy
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| adj.沼泽的，湿地的 | |
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porpoise
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| n.鼠海豚 | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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effusive
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| adj.热情洋溢的；感情(过多)流露的 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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parching
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| adj.烘烤似的，焦干似的v.（使）焦干， （使）干透( parch的现在分词 )；使（某人）极口渴 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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coconut
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| n.椰子 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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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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implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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pestle
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| n.杵 | |
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44
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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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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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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49
lathe
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| n.车床，陶器，镟床 | |
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50
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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51
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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52
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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53
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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54
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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58
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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59
beaked
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| adj.有喙的，鸟嘴状的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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filigree
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| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
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sperm
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| n.精子，精液 | |
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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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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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68
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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71
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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72
tusk
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| n.獠牙，长牙，象牙 | |
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73
walrus
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| n.海象 | |
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74
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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75
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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76
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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harpooner
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porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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82
ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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83
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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84
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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85
gouged
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| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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86
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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88
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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89
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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90
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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91
adjourn
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| v.（使）休会，（使）休庭 | |
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92
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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93
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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94
coconuts
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| n.椰子( coconut的名词复数 )；椰肉，椰果 | |
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95
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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96
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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97
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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98
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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99
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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100
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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101
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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102
severing
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的现在分词 )；断，裂 | |
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103
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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104
begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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105
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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106
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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107
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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108
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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109
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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110
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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111
vibrant
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| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
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112
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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113
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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114
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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115
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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116
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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117
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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118
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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119
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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120
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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121
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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122
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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123
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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124
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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125
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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126
migration
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| n.迁移，移居，（鸟类等的）迁徙 | |
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127
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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128
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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129
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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130
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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131
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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132
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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133
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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134
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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135
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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136
stimulates
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| v.刺激( stimulate的第三人称单数 )；激励；使兴奋；起兴奋作用，起刺激作用，起促进作用 | |
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137
insignificant
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|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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138
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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139
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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140
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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141
piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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142
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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143
depressed
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|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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144
skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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145
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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146
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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147
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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148
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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149
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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150
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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151
accomplished
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|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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152
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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153
exhortations
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| n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 )；极力推荐；（正式的）演讲；（宗教仪式中的）劝诫 | |
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154
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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155
schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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156
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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157
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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158
remarkable
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|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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159
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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160
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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161
malignant
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|
| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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162
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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163
straightforward
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|
| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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164
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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165
garbled
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| adj.（指信息）混乱的，引起误解的v.对（事实）歪曲，对（文章等）断章取义，窜改( garble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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167
preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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168
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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169
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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170
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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171
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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172
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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173
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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174
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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175
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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176
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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177
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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178
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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179
drudge
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| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
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180
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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181
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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182
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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183
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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184
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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185
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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186
preening
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| v.（鸟）用嘴整理（羽毛）( preen的现在分词 ) | |
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187
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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188
meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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189
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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190
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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191
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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192
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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193
fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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194
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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195
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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196
rambles
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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197
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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198
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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199
ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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200
meritorious
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|
| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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201
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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202
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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203
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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204
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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205
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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206
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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207
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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208
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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209
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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210
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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211
jocosely
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| adv.说玩笑地，诙谐地 | |
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212
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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213
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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214
apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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215
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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216
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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217
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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218
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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219
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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220
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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