THE schooner Duchess was in at last.
Of their bones are coral made.
We were almost growing anxious about her in Raratonga—almost, not quite; for after all, she was only a fortnight overdue7, and that is not much for an island schooner, even when she is run by white officers. When the easy-going native runs her, no one ever knows when she will leave any port, and no one would venture to predict that she will ever arrive at all. There are generally a good many native-owned schooners8 about the South Eastern Pacific, but, though all the numbers keep up, the identity varies, and if you return after a few years and ask for the ships you used to know, the answer will be, I have not space to tell you here of the native schooner that started from one of the Cook Islands, not so very long ago, to visit another island less than two hundred miles away, but, because of the wild and weird9 navigation of her owners, went instead to somewhere over a thousand miles off; toured half the Pacific; stayed away six months; and finally came back to her own little island by a happy chance, without ever having reached the place she set out for after all. But it has a good deal of local colour in it.
The Duchess, however, was not a native schooner, being owned by whites, and run by a British captain, mate, and boatswain, assisted by eight island seamen10. There was, therefore, a reasonable prospect11 of getting somewhere, sometime, if I travelled in her; so I took my passage, and, for the first time, literally12 “sailed away”—to see the outer islands of the Cook Group, and later on, solitary13 Savage14 Island, Penrhyn, Malden, Rakahanga, and Manahiki.
For more than four months afterwards, with a single break, the little Duchess of 175 tons was my home. Little she seemed at first, but before long she assumed the proportions of quite a majestic15 vessel16. There was no schooner in those waters that could touch her, either for speed, size, or (alas!) for pitching and rolling, in any and every weather. Her ninety-five foot masts made a brave show, when clothed with shining canvas; her white hull17, with its scarlet encircling band, and the sun-coloured copper18 glimmering19 at the water-line, stood out splendidly on the blazing blue of the great Pacific. “A three-masted topsail schooner” was her official designation. The unofficial names she was called in a calm, when the great Pacific swell20 brought out her full rolling powers, are best left unreported.
I cannot honestly advise the elderly round-the-world-tourist, doing the Pacific in orthodox style, to desert steam for sail, and try the experience of voyaging “off the track” among the islands never visited by liners. But the true traveller, who wanders for the joy of wandering, and is not afraid or unwilling21 to “rough it” a good deal, will find a sailing trip in the Pacific among the most fascinating of experiences. Beyond the radius22 of the belching23 funnel3 a great peace reigns24; an absence of time, a pleasant carelessness about all the weighty and tiresome25 things that may be happening outside the magic circle of still blue ocean. There is no “let-her-slide” spirit in the whole world to compare with that which blossoms spontaneously on the sun-white decks of a Pacific schooner.
Looking back upon all the island boats that I have known, I may say that there was not so much discipline among the lot as would have run a single cross-channel boat at home, that every one was satisfied if the officers refrained from “jamborees” between ports; if some one was sometimes at the wheel, and if the native crew knew enough of the ropes to work the ship reasonably well, in the intervals26 of line-fishing and chorus-singing. And in one and all, whatever might happen to passengers, cargo27, ship, or crew, “take things as they come,” was the grand general rule.
“This is your cabin,” said the cheerful little pirate of a captain. He was celebrated28 as the “hardest case” in the South Pacific, and looked not quite unworthy of his reputation, though he was dressed as if for Bond Street in the afternoon, and mannered (on that occasion) as if for an evening party.
What I wanted to say, was “Good God!” What I did say was: “Oh, really! very nice indeed.” For I saw at once that I must lie, and it seemed as well to obtain the fullest possible advantage from the sin. There was no use mincing30 words, or morals, in such a case.
The cabin had a floor exactly the size of my smallest flat box, which filled it so neatly31 that I had to stand on the lid all the time I was in my room. It had a bunk32 about as large as a tight fit in coffins33, and a small parrot-perch36 at one side, which was not meant for parrots, but for me, to perch on, if I wanted to lace my boots without committing suicide when the ship was rolling. On the perch stood a tin basin, to do duty as a washstand. There was a biscuit-tin full of water underneath37.
This was all that the cabin contained, except smells. The latter, however, crowded it to its fullest capacity. It had some mysterious communication with the hold, which perfumed it strongly with the oppressive, oily stench of ancient copra, and it had also a small door leading into the companion that went down to the engine-hole (one could not call it a room), in which lived the tiny oil engine that was supposed to start instantaneously, and work us out of danger, in case of any sudden need. (I say supposed, because—— But that comes after.)
This engine-hole had a smell of its own, a good deal stronger than the engine (but that is not saying much)—compounded of dirt, bilge-water, and benzolene. The smell joined in a sort of chorus with the copra odour of the hold, and both were picked out and accentuated38 by a sharp note of cockroach39. It was the most symphonic odour that I had ever encountered. As for the port, that, I saw, would be screwed down most of the time owing to the position of the cabin, low down on the main deck.
“Very nice,” I repeated, smiling a smile of which I am proud to this day. “Such a dear little cabin!”
“I’m glad you like it,” said the captain, evidently relieved. “You see, there’s four Government officials coming round this trip, and that takes our only other cabin. I chucked the bo’sun out of this; he’s sleeping anywhere. Anything else you’d like?” he continued, looking at the biscuit-tin and the shiny basin with so much satisfaction that I guessed at once they were a startling novelty—the bo’sun having probably performed his toilet on deck. “We don’t have lady passengers on these trips as we aren’t a union liner exactly, but we’re always ready to do what we can to please every one.”
“I want first of all a new mattress40, and sheets that haven’t been washed in salt water, and then I want some air and light, and thirty or forty cubic feet more space, and I think, a new cabin, and I’m almost sure, another ship,” I said to myself. Aloud I added: “Nothing whatever, thank you; it is charming,” and then I went in and shut the door, and sat down on my bunk, and said things, that would not have passed muster41 in a Sunday-School, for quite ten minutes.
What I had expected I don’t know. Something in the Clark Russell line, I fear—a sparkling little sea-parlour, smelling of rope and brine, looking out on a deck “as white as a peeled almond,” and fitted with stern windows that overhung half the horizon. It was borne in upon me, as I sat there among the smells and ants and beetles42, that I was in for something as un-Clark-Russelly as possible. “Well,” I thought, “it will at least be all the newer. And there is certainly no getting out of it.”
So we spread our white wings, and fluttered away like a great sea-butterfly, from underneath the green and purple peaks of Raratonga, far out on the wide Pacific. And thereupon, because the rollers rolled, and the ship was small, I went into my cabin, and for two days, like the heroine of an Early Victorian romance, “closed my eyes, and knew no more.”
On the third day I was better, and in the afternoon Mitiaro, one of the outer Cook Islands, rose on the horizon. By three o’clock our boat had landed us—the official party, the captain, and myself—on a beach of foam43-white coral sand, crowded with laughing, excited natives, all intensely eager to see the “wahiné papa,” or foreign woman. White men—traders, missionaries44, the Resident Commissioner45 of the group—had visited the island now and again, but never a white woman before; and though many had been away and seen such wonders, more had not.
The officials went away to hold a court of justice; the captain and myself, before we had walked half across the beach, being captured by an excited band of jolly brown men and women, all in their Sunday best shirts and pareos, and long trailing gowns. They seized us by our elbows, and literally ran us up to the house of the principal chief, singing triumphantly46. Along the neatest of coral sand paths we went, among groves48 of palm and banana, up to a real native house, built with a high “rau” roof, and airy birdcage walls. About half the island was collected here, drinking cocoanuts, eating bananas, staring, talking, laughing. In spite of their excitement, however, they were exceedingly courteous49, offering me the best seat in the house—a real European chair, used as a sort of throne by the chief himself—fanning myself and my guide industriously50 as we sat, pressing everything eatable in the house on us, and doing their best, bare-footed brown savages51 as they were, to make us enjoy our visit.
All islanders are not courteous and considerate, but the huge majority certainly are. You shall look many a day and many a week among the sea-countries of the Pacific, before you meet with as much rudeness, selfishness, or unkindness, as you may meet any day without looking at all, on any railway platform of any town of civilised white England. And not from one end of the South Seas to the other, shall you hear anything like the harsh, loud, unmusical voice of the dominant52 race, in a native mouth. Soft and gentle always is the island speech, musical and kind—the speech of a race that knows neither hurry nor greed, and for whom the days are long and sweet, and “always afternoon.”
When we went out to see the island, it was at the head of a gay procession of men, women, and children, singing ceaselessly, in loud metallic53 chants and choruses. Shy of the strange white apparition54 at first, the women grew bolder by degrees, and hung long necklaces of flowers and leaves and scented55 berries round my neck. They took my hat away, and returned it covered with feathery reva-reva plumes56, made from the inner crown of the palm-tree. They produced a native dancing kilt, like a little crinoline, made of arrowroot fibre, dyed pink, and tied it round my waist, over my tailor skirt, explaining the while (through the captain, who interpreted), that the knot of the girdle was fastened in such a way as to cast a spell on me, and that I should inevitably57 be obliged to return to the island. (It is perhaps worthy29 of note that I did, though at the time of my first visit there seemed no chance of the ship calling again.) Decked out after this fashion, I had a suces; on my return to the schooner, and was greeted with howls of delight on the part of my fellow-passengers, who had managed to escape adornment58, being less of a novelty. It was of course impossible to remove the ornaments59 without offending the givers.
More houses, and more hosts, standing60 like Lewis Carroll’s crocodile on their thresholds, to welcome me in “with gently smiling jaws61.” We visited till we were tired of visiting, and then strolled about the town. Cool, fresh, and clean are the houses of little Mitiaro, dotted about its three miles’ length. Their high deep-gabled roofs of plaited pandanus leaf keep out the heat of the staring sun; through their walls of smoothed and fitted canes62 the sea-wind blows and the green lagoon63 gleams dimly: the snowy coral pebbles64 that carpet all the floor reflect a softly pleasant light into the dusk, unwindowed dwelling65. Outside, the palm-trees rustle66 endlessly, and the surf sings on the reef the long, low, perilous67 sweet song of the dreamy South Sea world—the song that has lured68 so many away into these lonely coral lands, to remember their Northern loves and homes no more—the song that, once heard, will whisper through the inmost chambers69 of the heart, across the years, and across the world till death.
Yet—why not?
Why not? The thought followed me as ceaselessly as the trampling70 of the surf (now, in the open, loud and triumphant47, like the galloping71 of a victorious72 army) while I wandered over the little island, up and down the coral sand paths that led through groves of feathery ironwood, through quaintly73 regular, low, rich green shrubberies, starred with pale pink blossoms among wild grey pinnacles74 of fantastic rock, clothed in trailing vines—always towards the open sky and the limitless blue sea. Why not? In England, even yet,
We are not cotton-spinners all,
nor are we all old, blood-chilled by the frost of conventionality, dyed ingrain with the conviction that there is nothing but vagabondage and ne’er-do-well-ism away from the ring of the professions, or an office desk in the E.C. district. For the young and adventurous75, the South Seas hold as fair prospects76 as any other semi-civilised portion of the globe. For those who have seen and have lived, and are wearied to death of the life and cities and competition, the island world offers remoteness, beauty, rest, and peace, unmatched in the round of the swinging earth. And to all alike it offers that most savoury morsel77 of life’s banquet—freedom. Freedom and a biscuit taste better to many a young Anglo-Saxon than stalled ox seasoned with the bitter herbs of dependence78; but the one is always at hand, and the other very far away.
Well, the gulf79 can be spanned; but he who cannot do the spanning, and must long and dream unsatisfied all his life, had best take comfort: it had not been for his good. The Islands are for the man of resource; again, of resource; and once more, of resource. Look among the lowest huts of the lowest quarters that cling to towns in the big islands, and there, gone native, and lost to his race, you shall find the man who was an excellent fellow—once—but who in emergency or difficulty, “didn’t know what to do.”
If there is a lesson in the above, he who needs it will find it.
Mitiaro is the island, already referred to, where dried bananas are prepared. The natives make up their fruit in this way for market, because steamers never call, and sailing vessels80 only come at long and irregular intervals. A very small quantity goes down in this way to Auckland, and I heard, in a general way, that there were supposed to be one or two other islands here and there about the Pacific, where the same trade was carried on. One cannot, however, buy preserved bananas in the colonies, unless by a special chance, so the purchasing public knows nothing of them, and is unaware81 what it misses. In the opinion of most who have tried them, the fruit, dried and compressed in the Mitiaro way, is superior to dried figs82. It is not only a substitute for fresh bananas, but a dainty in itself. The whaling ships pick up an occasional consignment83 in out-of-the-way places, and are therefore familiar with them, but one never sees them on a steamer. There may be useful hints, for intending settlers, in these stray facts.
We lay over-night at Mitiaro, and got off in the morning. Aitutaki was our next place of call, and we reached it in about a day. It is, next to Raratonga, the most important island of the group, possessing a large mission station, a Government agent, and a post-office. It enjoys a call once a month from the union steamer, and is therefore a much more sophisticated place than Mitiaro. In size, it is inferior to Raratonga and Atiu, being only seven square miles in extent. Its population is officially returned as 1,170. These are almost all natives, the white population including only the Government agent, two or three missionaries, and a couple of traders.
It is bright morning when we make Aitutaki, and the sea is so vividly84 blue, as we push off in the boat, that I wonder my fingers do not come out sapphire-coloured when I dip them in. And I think, as the eight brown arms pull us vigorously shoreward, that no one in the temperate85 climes knows, or ever can know, what these sea-colours of the tropics are like, because the North has no words that express them. How, indeed, should it have?
We are rowing, as fast as we can go, towards a great white ruffle86 of foam ruled like a line across the blue, blue sea. Inside this line there lies, to all appearance, an immense raised plain of green jade87 or aquamarine, with a palmy, plumy island, cinctured by a pearly beach, far away in the middle. Other islands, smaller and farther away, stand out upon the surface of this strange green circle here and there, all enclosed within the magic ring of tumbling foam, more than five miles across, that sets them apart from the wide blue sea. It is only a lagoon of atoll formation, but it looks like a piece of enamelled jewel-work, done by the hand of some ocean giant, so great that the huge sea-serpent itself should be only a bracelet88 for his arm. The raised appearance of the lagoon is one of the strangest things I have yet seen, though it is merely an optical delusion90, created by contrast in colour.
We are fortunate, too, in seeing what every one does not see—a distinct green shade in the few white clouds that overhang the surface of the lagoon. Here in Aitutaki a great part of the sky is sometimes coloured green by the reflections from the water, and it is a sight worth witnessing.
Through an opening in the reef we enter—the boatmen pulling hard against the outward rush of the tide, which runs here like a cataract91 at times—and glide92 easily across the mile or so of shallow water that lies between us and the shore. One or two splendid whale-boats pass us, manned by native crews, and the other passengers tell me that these boats are all made by the Aitutakians themselves, who are excellent builders.
There is a very decent little wharf93 to land on, and of course, the usual excited, decorated crowd to receive us, and follow us about. I am getting quite used now to going round at the head of a continual procession, to being hung over with chains of flowers and berries, and ceaselessly fed with bananas and cocoanuts, so the crowd does not interfere94 with my enjoyment95 of the new island. We are going to stop a day or two here, and there will be time to see everything.
When you sleep as a rule in a bunk possessing every attribute of a coffin34 (except the restfulness which one is led to expect in a bed of that nature), you do not require much pressing to accept an invitation to “dine and sleep” on shore. Tau Ariki (which means Chieftainess, or Countess, or Duchess, Tau) lives in Aitutaki, and she had met me in Raratonga, so she sent me a hearty96 invitation to spend the night at her house, and I accepted it.
Tau is not by any means as great a personage as Makea, or even as great as Tinomana, the lesser97 queen. She is an Ariki all the same, however, and owns a good deal of land in Aitutaki. Also, she is gloriously married to a white ex-schooner mate, who can teach even the Aitutakians something about boat-building, and she is travelled and finished, having been a trip to Auckland—the ambition of every Cook Islander. So Tau Ariki is a person of importance in her own small circle, and was allowed by the natives of the town to have the undoubted first right to entertain the white woman.
Tau’s house, in the middle of the rambling98, jungly, green street of the little town, proved to be a wooden bungalow99 with a verandah and a tin roof, very ugly, but very fine to native eyes. There were tables and chairs in the “parlour”; and the inevitable100 boiled fowl101 that takes the place of the fatted calf102, in Pacific cookery, was served up on a china plate. A rich woman, Tau, and one who knew how the “tangata papa” (white folk) should be entertained!
She gave me a bedroom all to myself, with a smile that showed complete understanding of the foolish fads103 of the “wahiné papa.” It had a large “imported” glass window, giving on the main street of the town, and offering, through its lack of blinds, such a fine, free show for the interested populace, that I was obliged to go to bed in the dark. There was a real bed in the room, covered with a patchwork104 quilt of a unique and striking design, representing a very realistic scarlet devil some four feet long. It seemed to me the kind of quilt that would need a good conscience and a blameless record, on the part of the sleeper105 reposing106 under it. To wake in the middle of the night unexpectedly, with the moonlight streaming in, forget for the moment where you were, and, looking round to find a landmark107, drop your startled eyes upon that scarlet fiend, sprawling108 all over your chest—— Well, I had a good conscience, or none—I do not know which—so I felt the red devil would not disturb my slumbers109, and he did not.
There was nothing else in the room, except a new, gold-laced, steamship110 officer’s cap, whereto there seemed neither history nor owner, reposing on the pillow. If there was any mystery about the cap, I never knew it.
I put it out on the windowsill, and a hen laid an egg in it next morning, and no doubt the hen lived happily ever after, and I hope the officer did, and that is all. It seems pathetic, but I do not know why.
There was nothing to wash in, but Tau knew her manners, and was quite aware that I might have a prejudice against sitting in a washing-tub on either the front or the back verandah, to have buckets emptied on my head in the morning. So she made haste to leave a kerosene111 tin full of water, before going to her camphorwood chest, and extracting a pink silk dress trimmed with yellow lace, for me to sleep in.
“I’m afraid that won’t do; it’s too—too good to sleep in,” I remarked.
“Nothing too good for you, you too much good self!” was the amiable112 reply.
“But I could not sleep in it, Tau. There’s—there’s too much of it,” I objected, not knowing how to word my refusal without impoliteness.
“All right,” commented my hostess, throwing a glance at the purple gloom of the torrid hot-season night outside. “He plenty hot. I get you pareo, all same mine.” And she disinterred a brief cotton kilt of red and yellow, considerably113 smaller than a Highlander’s.
“That’s too little,” objected the exacting114 guest, rather to poor Tau’s perplexity. How was one to please such a visitor? At last, however, after refusing a figured muslin robe that was as transparent115 as a dancing-robe of classic Ionia (there are other analogies between those robes, if one might go into the subject; but I fear the British public must not be told about them), and a pink shirt belonging to the white husband, a neat cotton day gown was discovered, offered, and accepted, and peace reigned116 once more in the exceedingly public guest-chamber of Tau Ariki’s house.
Concerning quilts, by the way, one may here add a short note. Patchwork is the delight of the Cook Island women, and has been so, ever since that absorbing pastime was first introduced to them by the missionaries’ wives. They are extremely clever at it, and often invent their own patterns. Sometimes, however, they copy any startling device that they may chance to see—the more original, the better. A really good patchwork quilt is considered a possession of great value, and (one is sorry to say) often preferred to the fine, beautifully hand-woven mats in which the islanders used to excel. They still make mats in large numbers, but the patchwork quilt has spoilt their taste for the finer mats, and these latter are getting scarce.
In the morning, shark-catching was the order of the day. Aitutaki is celebrated for this sport all over Australasia, and I was very glad to get a chance of joining in it. One does not catch sharks, in Aitutaki, after the usual island fashion, which is much like the way familiar to all sea-faring folk—hook and line, and a lump of bad pork, and tow the monster to the shore when you have got him. No, there is something more exciting in store for the visitor-who goes a-fishing in Aitutaki lagoon. The water is very shallow for the most part, and heats up quickly with the sun, especially when the day is dead calm, and there is not a ripple118 to break the force of the rays. By noon, the lagoon is unbearably119 warm in all the shallow parts, and the sharks which inhabit it in large numbers, begin to feel uncomfortable. Some of them make for the opening in the reef, and get out into the cooler sea beyond. Others, one will suppose, are lazy, and do not want to be troubled to swim so far. So they head for the coral patches here and there, and lie on the sand in the shelter of the rocks, their bodies thrust as far into the clefts121 and crannies of the coral as they can manage to get. This is the Aitutakian’s opportunity. He is perfectly122 fearless in the water, and he knows that the shark is, after all, a stupid brute123. So he arms himself with a knife, takes a strong rope, noosed125 in a slip-knot at one end, in his hand, and dives from his whale-boat into the warm green water, where he has marked the latter end of a shark sticking out from a patch of coral, some three or four fathoms126 underneath the surface.
The shark, being head in, does not see anything, but by-and-by he becomes aware of a delicate tickling127 all along his massive ribs128, and as he rather likes this, he stays-quite still, and enjoys it. It is the Aitutakian, tickling him as boys tickle a trout129 in a stream at home, and for exactly the same reason. He has got the noose124 in his left hand, and his aim is to slip it over the shark’s tail, while he distracts the brute’s attention by pleasantly tickling with the other hand. Perhaps he manages this at the first attempt—perhaps he is obliged to rise to the surface, and take a breath of air, going down again to have a second try. But, in any case, he is pretty sure to get the noose on before the shark suspects anything. Once that is accomplished132, he rises to the surface like a shooting air-bubble, swings himself into the boat, and gives the order to “haul in!”
The men in the boat lay hold of the rope, tighten133 with a sharp jerk, and tail on. Now the shark begins to realise that something has happened; and realises it still more fully117 in another minute or two, when he finds himself fighting for his life on the gunwale of a rocking boat, against half a dozen islanders armed with knives and axes. The battle is short the great brute is soon disabled by a smashing blow on the tail, and in another hour or two the village is feeding fat on his meat, and his fins35 are drying in the sun, to be sold to the trader by-and-by, for export to China. No dinner-party in China is complete without a dish of daintily dressed shark’s fins, and a good proportion of the supply comes from the Pacific.
This is shark-fishing, as practised in Aitutaki. But I was not destined134 to see it at its best, for the day turned out breezy, and there was such a ripple, upon the water that the natives declared the sharks would be extremely difficult to see or capture. Nevertheless, the captain and I decided135 to go, as there was a chance, though a faint one. We hired a boat, and took with us, as well as the rowers, Oki, a diver of renown136. If Oki could not raise a shark for us, it was certain that no one could.
The captain of the missionary137 steamer John Williams had told me about the fishing some weeks before, and added that he had seen a shark caught himself, and tried to photograph it, but the photo was not a success, because, as he put it, “the shark moved!”
This story wandered about in my mind as we shot across the lagoon to the fishing grounds, and the boat began to look uncomfortably small. “What does the shark do when you get it in the boat?” I inquired rather anxiously.
“Makes the devil of a row, and the devil of a mess,” said our own captain cheerfully. “But don’t you mind him. Let sharks alone, and they’ll let you alone; that’s always been my experience.”
Conscious that I was never unkind to animals, not even tigers or sharks, I tried to feel at ease. But I did not quite succeed, until we got to the coral beds, and Oki put everything else out of my head by going head first overboard, and starting out among the rocks below (it was calmer here, and we could see him pretty plainly) to look for a shark.
His thin brown body showed up shadowy and wavering, upon the sands at the bottom, as he glided139 like a fish all along the patch of reef, inspecting every cave or crack where a shark might hide. He did not seem to be incommoded in the least by the three or four fathoms of water above him, but moved about as quietly and easily as if he had been swimming on the surface. I felt sure he must be at the point of death, as the seconds flew by, and he still glided in and out of the rocks with nothing but the gleam of his white pareo to show his whereabouts, whenever he slipped into the shadow of one of the many clefts in which a shark might lie hidden. But Oki knew very well what he was about, and he did not seem at all exhausted140 when he shot to the surface again, after rather more than two minutes’ absence, and told us gloomily that “No shark stop!”
We tried again, and again. Oki took the slip knot down with him every time and every time he brought it up in his hand, unused. Melancholy141, deep and silent, settled upon the boat. But at last the luck changed; our diver came up, and announced with a smile, that there was a shark down there, very far into the coral, and if he could only reach the animal’s tail, it would be all right.
One of the boatmen at this went to help him, and together they swam down to the bottom, and began fumbling142 interminably in the shadow. It was clear that they were making every effort to tempt131 the shark out, for one could see Oki straining wildly with his arm in the cleft120, “tickling” industriously, while the other hovered143 head downwards144 outside, trailing the noose like a loop of seaweed in his hand. But all proved vain. Exhausted, the men rose at last, and gave it up. The shark was too far in, they said, and the noose could not be got on. If we remembered, they had told us it was not a good day, and they hoped we thought enough had been done. As for themselves, they were very tired doing our pleasure, and their lungs were sore, but they thought some plug tobacco—the black, sticky kind, and a good deal of it—would set them all right again.
This was outside the letter of the agreement, which had included a good price for the boat and nothing else; but we promised some tobacco, when the stores should be reached, and asked for some more particulars about the fishing.
“Do you ever find the shark head out, instead of tail out?” I queried145.
“Yes, sometime he come head out,” said Oki, reversing a green cocoanut on his nose, and swallowing in great gulps146.
I waited till he had finished before I asked: “What happens then?”
“Shark he fight, and we fight too,” said Oki simply.
“And which wins?”
“All the time the Aitutaki boy he win, but sometime the shark he win too,” was the cryptic147 reply.
Shark fins, I was told, sell for about six shillings a pound. Some of the traders in the islands further north, where sharks are abundant, make a good deal of money taking the fish on a hook and line, and drying the fins for sale. It should be a fairly profitable industry, as the fins of a medium shark appear to weigh a good deal—not less than three or four pounds, at a guess.
It was on my second visit to Aitutaki that I went out to the lesser islands of the lagoon; but the tale of that expedition may well come here.
These islets are of various sizes, from a mere89 rock with a couple of palms on it, to a fertile piece of land over a mile long, richly grown and wooded. They all lie within the great lagoon, and are therefore sheltered by a natural breakwater of the reef from the violence of the storms that occur in the rainy season. The nearest is about three miles from the mainland. All are quite uninhabited, and no particular value is set on them by anybody. They belong to the various chief families of the big island, but any one who wished to rent one in perpetuity (the New Zealand Government laws, which rule here, do not permit outright148 sale) could probably secure it for a few pounds a year.
I was anxious to see them, for it seemed to me that islands suited to the realisation of Robinson Crusoe dreams could hardly be found the wide Pacific over. A desolate149 isle6 five hundred miles from anywhere, sounds well in a story, but the romance of such a spot is apt to wear very thin indeed after a few months, if one may believe the experiences of those who have tried it. Practical details are seldom considered by would-be Crusoes; they have, however, a knack150 of thrusting themselves into the foreground just when retreat is impossible. If you elect to live on a remote island, how are you going to keep up communication with the outer world? You will want at least a few commodities of civilisation151 from time to time, and they cannot swim across half the great South Seas, from Auckland or ’Frisco, up to your front verandah unaided. You will want mails, newspapers, and letters, unless haply you are a criminal flying from the near neighbourhood of the black cap and the drop—and how are these to come? Trading schooners will not call at your island unless you have plenty of cargo for them, and even then, you may not see them twice a year. Steamers, of course, you must not expect. If you keep a small vessel of your own, you must be thoroughly152 sea-trained to run and navigate153 her, and you will need to bring a few island men to your kingdom as crew, and they will want to go home again, and make trouble, and finally run off with your ship some dark night, and maroon154 you there for good. No, the “desert” island idea is best left to the shelves of the school library.
But at Aitutaki, and in some similar collections of atoll islands Robinson Crusoe’s way is made easy and pleasant—or so it seemed to me, crossing the lagoon that afternoon on my way to the islets that were lying waste and uninhabited out on its broad expanse. From three to five miles away from the mainland, these islets are sufficiently155 isolated156 for any one who has not quarrelled with the whole human race. There is a steamer once a month, at the little pier157 near the settlement. There are one or two stores on the main island, where common provisions, cotton stuffs, spades, and knives, and such simple things, can be purchased. The lagoon is usually so calm that a native canoe would serve all ordinary needs of communication, for any one living on an islet. A house could be built in a few days, of the native type: and a good concrete bungalow could be put up with native help, in a very few weeks. Why should any one want to live in such a spot? Well, it is not necessary to argue out that question, because I have found by experience that quite a remarkable158 number of people do. It was for those people that I crossed the lagoon that day, and I know I shall have their thanks.
A whale-boat and a crew were necessary for the trip. I engaged both in the village, and went down to the wharf followed by a “tail” of seven stalwart islanders, dressed in white and crimson159 pareos, berry necklaces, and a curiously160 representative collection of steamship caps and jerseys162. The Aitutakian is an inveterate163 traveller, and all these men had been away in a steamer somewhere as deck hands—or else their friends had, and they had begged a steamer cap and jersey161 or two here and there: it was all the same to them. The P. & O.—the union S.S. Co. of New Zealand—the Shaw, Savill, and Albion—the Orient—Burns Philp—were all represented (so far as caps and jerseys went) by my boat’s crew, and very well pleased with themselves and their poached attire164 they evidently were.
Provisions had to be purchased, they declared, as we should not be back before afternoon. So into the big store the whole party went to see me victual the ship. I bought biscuits and meat, exactly half what they asked, and they were so uplifted with joy at the amount of the supplies that they sang all the way down to the boat; and, once in it, treated me to an exhibition of rowing, the like of which I never expect to see again. The Aitutaki man is the smartest boatman, and the best hand with an oar138, in the Southern Pacific. Never a man-of-war comes round the Cook group that her men do not try conclusions with the Aitutakians, and if report speaks truth, the result is not always flattering to British pride. Nor is this astonishing, to any one who has seen these islanders row. We had six miles of a pull, and every inch was against a strong head wind, and through a decidedly choppy sea. Yet, in spite of these handicaps, the men rowed the whole way at racing165 pace, oars166 springing, spray flying, the great whale-boat tearing through the water as though a mortal enemy were in pursuit. The coxswain, in the stern, kept slyly urging the rowers on to let the foreign woman see what they could do, and they pulled “all out”—or what looked extremely like it—from start to finish. I do not think any white crew that ever held an oar could have lived with that splendid six-mile rush. And when we neared the first island and gradually slacked speed, there was not one among those seven mighty167 chests that heaved faster than at the start. Truly, I thought, they had earned their picnic.
But the islets! If Raratonga was the realisation of a childish dream, this was the embodiment of a vision of fairyland. There can surely be nothing on earth more lovely than the islet constellation168 enclosed by Aitutaki reef. The water, shallow, sun-jewelled, and spread out over a bed of spotless coral sand, is coloured with a brilliance169 that is simply incredible. Emerald and jade and sapphire—yes, one expects these, in the hues170 of tropic seas. But when it comes to whole tracts130 of glancing heliotrope171 and hyacinth, shot with unnamable shades of melted turquoise172 and silver, and all a-quiver with pulsations of flashing greens, for which there is no name in any language under the pallid173 northern or burning southern sun—then, the thing becomes indescribable, and one can only say:
“There is something in that little corner of earth beyond the touch of words, so you will never know anything about it, unless you too go there, and see it for yourself. And when you have seen, you will come away burning to describe, as I was—but you will not be able.”
In the midst of this magical sea, rise the islets themselves—fairyland every one. Their little beaches are sparkling white, as only a coral beach can be; palm-trees, heavyheaded with their loads of huge green nuts, cluster thick along the shores; coral-trees drop their blood-red flowers into the glass-like water of the lagoon; ripe oranges swing their glowing lamps among the darker green of the woods that rise behind. Big white clams174 with goffered shells, each holding meat enough for one man’s dinner, gleam along the edges of the shore; large, long-legged crabs175 wander rustling176 and rattling177 among the stones. The murmur178 of the barrier reef is very far away; its thin white line of foam gleams out a long way off, under a low horizon, sky shot strangely with lilac blue—a lonely, lovely, exquisite179 place, the like of which one might seek the world all over, and never find again.
We landed on the sand, and I set about exploring, while the men knocked down cocoanuts, and squatted180 in the shade to drink them, and suck fresh oranges. The island on which we had landed was one of the smaller ones, not more than an acre or two in extent. It rose to a high point in the centre, and was so thickly wooded all over, that I could hardly make my way through. There was no sign of life or habitation, and the ripe fruit was everywhere rotting on the ground.
I pictured the little islet with a high brown roof peeping out among its palms, a neatly kept pathway cut through the bush, and a snug181 boathouse on the shore, covering a fine whaleboat, while a graceful182 native canoe lay on the sand, ready for any one to lift down into the water at any minute. I wonder, will the picture ever body itself out in real, for some tired-out soul, weary of cities and competition, or some pair of lovers, who find the world well lost in each other, here among the far islands of the sweet Southern Seas? I shall never know, for the “sea-bird’s feather” was in the pillow on which I slept my first baby sleep, and I wander always on. But it may be that these words will be read by some to whom they are, or shall be, a part of fife’s own history.
We did not get to the other islands that day, partly because I wasted so much time looking for shells, and partly because the largest were still some miles away, and the wind was stronger than ever. One, I heard, had ground enough for a paying plantation183, and was already fairly well supplied with cocoanuts. All are perfectly healthy and free from fevers of any kind, and though mosquitoes are present in rather large numbers, careful clearing of their breeding grounds would in time drive them away.
In case author, or publishers, should be inundated184 with inquiries185 about South Sea Islands, it may be as well to say that all over the Pacific, the Governors, Commissioners186, and Resident Agents of the various groups are always ready to furnish information to honest inquirers.
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1
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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overdue
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| adj.过期的，到期未付的；早该有的，迟到的 | |
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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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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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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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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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belching
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| n. 喷出，打嗝 动词belch的现在分词形式 | |
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reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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cockroach
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| n.蟑螂 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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industriously
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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53
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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56
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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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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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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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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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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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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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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ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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90
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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91
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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92
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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93
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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94
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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95
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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96
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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97
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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98
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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99
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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100
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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101
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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102
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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103
fads
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| n.一时的流行，一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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104
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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105
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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106
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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107
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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108
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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109
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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110
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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111
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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112
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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113
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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114
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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115
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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116
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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117
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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118
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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119
unbearably
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| adv.不能忍受地，无法容忍地；慌 | |
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120
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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121
clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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122
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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123
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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124
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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125
noosed
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| v.绞索，套索( noose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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127
tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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128
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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129
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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130
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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131
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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132
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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133
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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134
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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135
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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136
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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137
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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138
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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139
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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140
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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141
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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142
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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143
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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144
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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145
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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146
gulps
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| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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147
cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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148
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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149
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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150
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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151
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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152
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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153
navigate
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| v.航行，飞行；导航，领航 | |
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154
maroon
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| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
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155
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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156
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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157
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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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
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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160
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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161
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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162
jerseys
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| n.运动衫( jersey的名词复数 ) | |
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163
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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164
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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165
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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166
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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167
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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168
constellation
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| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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169
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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170
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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171
heliotrope
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| n.天芥菜；淡紫色 | |
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172
turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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173
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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174
clams
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| n.蛤；蚌，蛤( clam的名词复数 )v.（在沙滩上）挖蛤( clam的第三人称单数 ) | |
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175
crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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176
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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177
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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178
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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179
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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180
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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181
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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182
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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183
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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184
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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185
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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186
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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