University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER III.

It was in the summer of 1842 that we arrived at the islands;
the French had then held possession of them for several weeks.
During this time they had visited some of the principal places
in the group, and had disembarked at various points about five
hundred troops. These were employed in constructing works of
defence, and otherwise providing against the attacks of the natives,
who at any moment might be expected to break out in
open hostility. The islanders looked upon the people who made
this cavalier appropriation of their shores with mingled feelings
of fear and detestation. They cordially hated them; but the
impulses of their resentment were neutralized by their dread of
the floating batteries, which lay with their fatal tubes ostentatiously
pointed, not at fortifications and redoubts, but at a handful
of bamboo sheds, sheltered in a grove of cocoa-nuts! A
valiant warrior doubtless, but a prudent one too, was this same
Rear-Admiral Du Petit Thouars. Four heavy, double-banked
frigates and three corvettes to frighten a parcel of naked
heathen into subjection! Sixty-eight pounders to demolish huts
of cocoa-nut boughs, and Congreve rockets to set on fire a few
canoe sheds!

At Nukuheva, there were about one hundred soldiers ashore.
They were encamped in tents, constructed of the old sails and
spare spars of the squadron, within the limits of a redoubt
mounted with a few nine-pounders, and surrounded with a fosse.
Every other day, these troops were marched out in martial array,
to a level piece of ground in the vicinity, and there for hours

went through all sorts of military evolutions, surrounded by
flocks of the natives, who looked on with savage admiration at
the show, and as savage a hatred of the actors. A regiment of
the Old Guard, reviewed on a summer's day in the Champs
Elysées, could not have made a more critically correct appearance.
The officers' regimentals, resplendent with gold lace and
embroidery, as if purposely calculated to dazzle the islanders,
looked as if just unpacked from their Parisian cases.

The sensation produced by the presence of the strangers had
not in the least subsided at the period of our arrival at the
islands. The natives still flocked in numbers about the encampment,
and watched with the liveliest curiosity everything that
was going forward. A blacksmith's forge, which had been set
up in the shelter of a grove near the beach, attracted so great a
crowd, that it required the utmost efforts of the sentries posted
around to keep the inquisitive multitude at a sufficient distance
to allow the workmen to ply their vocation. But nothing gained
so large a share of admiration as a horse, which had been
brought from Valparaiso by the Achille, one of the vessels of
the squadron. The animal, a remarkably fine one, had been
taken ashore and stabled in a hut of cocoa-nut boughs within
the fortified enclosure. Occasionally it was brought out, and,
being gaily caparisoned, was ridden by one of the officers at full
speed over the hard sand beach. This performance was sure to
be hailed with loud plaudits, and the "puarkee nuee" (big hog)
was unanimously pronounced by the islanders to be the most
extraordinary specimen of zoology that had ever come under
their observation.

The expedition for the occupation of the Marquesas had sailed
from Brest in the spring of 1842, and the secret of its destination
was solely in the possession of its commander. No
wonder that those who contemplated such a signal infraction of
the rights of humanity should have sought to veil the enormity
from the eyes of the world. And yet, notwithstanding their
iniquitous conduct in this and in other matters, the French have
ever plumed themselves upon being the most humane and polished
of nations. A high degree of refinement, however, does
not seem to subdue our wicked propensities so much after all;
and were civilization itself to be estimated by some of its results,

it would seem perhaps better for what we call the barbarous
part of the world to remain unchanged.

One example of the shameless subterfuges under which the
French stand prepared to defend whatever cruelties they may
hereafter think fit to commit in bringing the Marquesan natives
into subjection is well worthy of being recorded. On some
flimsy pretext or other Mowanna, the king of Nukuheva, whom
the invaders by extravagant presents have cajoled over to their
interests, and move about like a mere puppet, has been set up
as the rightful sovereign of the entire island,—the alleged ruler
by prescription of various clans who for ages perhaps have
treated with each other as separate nations. To reinstate this
much-injured prince in the assumed dignities of his ancestors,
the disinterested strangers have come all the way from France:
they are determined that his title shall be acknowledged. If any
tribe shall refuse to recognise the authority of the French, by
bowing down to the laced chapeau of Mowanna, let them abide
the consequences of their obstinacy. Under cover of a similar
pretence, have the outrages and massacres at Tahiti the beautiful,
the queen of the South Seas, been perpetrated.

On this buccaneering expedition, Rear-Admiral Du Petit
Thouars, leaving the rest of his squadron at the Marquesas—
which had then been occupied by his forces about five months—
set sail for the doomed island in the Reine Blanche frigate. On
his arrival, as an indemnity for alleged insults offered to the flag
of his country, he demanded some twenty or thirty thousand
dollars to be placed in his hands forthwith, and in default of
payment, threatened to land and take possession of the place.

The frigate, immediately upon coming to an anchor, got
springs on her cables, and with her guns cast loose and her men
at their quarters, lay in the circular basin of Papeete, with her
broadside bearing upon the devoted town; while her numerous
cutters, hauled in order alongside, were ready to effect a landing,
under cover of her batteries. She maintained this belligerent
attitude for several days, during which time a series of informal
negotiations were pending, and wide alarm spread over the
island. Many of the Tahitians were at first disposed to resort
to arms, and drive the invaders from their shores; but more
pacific and feebler councils ultimately prevailed. The unfortunate

queen, Pomare, incapable of averting the impending calamity,
terrified at the arrogance of the insolent Frenchman,
and driven at last to despair, fled by night in a canoe to Emio.

During the continuance of the panic there occurred an instance
of feminine heroism that I cannot omit to record.

In the grounds of the famous missionary consul, Pritchard,
then absent in London, the consular flag of Britain waved as
usual during the day, from a lofty staff planted within a few
yards of the beach, and in full view of the frigate. One morning
an officer, at the head of a party of men, presented himself
at the verandah of Mr. Pritchard's house, and inquired in broken
English for the lady his wife. The matron soon made her
appearance; and the polite Frenchman, making one of his best
bows, and playing gracefully with the aguilettes that danced
upon his breast, proceeded in courteous accents to deliver his
mission. "The admiral desired the flag to be hauled down—
hoped it would be perfectly agreeable—and his men stood ready
to perform the duty." "Tell the pirate your master," replied the
spirited Englishwoman, pointing to the staff, "that if he wishes
to strike those colours, he must come and perform the act himself;
I will suffer no one else to do it." The lady then bowed
haughtily and withdrew into the house. As the discomfited
officer slowly walked away, he looked up to the flag, and perceived
that the cord by which it was elevated to its place, led
from the top of the staff, across the lawn, to an open upper window
of the mansion, where sat the lady from whom he had just
parted, tranquilly engaged in knitting. Was that flag hauled
down? Mrs. Pritchard thinks not; and Rear Admiral Du
Petit Thouars is believed to be of the same opinion.