41. CHAPTER XLI.
WE LEVY CONTRIBUTIONS ON THE SHIPPING.
Scarcely a week went by after the Julia's sailing, when,
with the proverbial restlessness of sailors, some of the men
began to grow weary of the Calabooza Beretanee, and resolved
to go boldly among the vessels in the bay, and offer to ship.
The thing was tried; but though strongly recommended by
the commodore of the beachcombers, in the end they were
invariably told by the captains to whom they applied, that they
bore an equivocal character ashore, and would not answer.
So often were they repulsed, that we pretty nearly gave up all
thoughts of leaving the island in this way; and growing domestic
again, settled down quietly at Captain Bob's.
It was about this time, that the whaling-ships, which have
their regular seasons for cruising, began to arrive at Papeetee;
and of course their crews frequently visited us. This is customary
all over the Pacific. No sailor steps ashore, but he
straightway goes to the “Calabooza,” where he is almost sure
to find some poor fellow or other in confinement for desertion,
or alledged mutiny, or something of that sort. Sympathy is
proffered, and if need be, tobacco. The latter, however, is
most in request; as a solace to the captive, it is invaluable.
Having fairly carried the day against both consul and captain,
we were objects of even more than ordinary interest to
these philanthropists; and they always cordially applauded
our conduct. Besides, they invariably brought along something
in the way of refreshments; occasionally smuggling in a little
Pisco. Upon one occasion, when there was quite a number
present, a calabash was passed round, and a pecuniary collection
taken up for our benefit.
One day a new comer proposed, that two or three of us should
pay him a sly, nocturnal visit aboard his ship; engaging to send
us away well freighted with provisions. This was not a bad
idea; nor were we at all backward in acting upon it. Night
after night every vessel in the harbor was visited in rotation,
the foragers borrowing Captain Bob's canoe for the purpose.
As we all took turns at this—two by two—in due course it
came to Long Ghost and myself, for the sailors invariably linked
us together. In such an enterprise, I somewhat distrusted the
doctor, for he was no sailor, and very tall; and a canoe is the
most ticklish of navigable things. However, it could not be
helped; and so we went.
But a word about the canoes, before we go any further.
Among the Society Islands, the art of building them, like all
native accomplishments, has greatly deteriorated; and they are
now the most inelegant, as well as the most insecure of any in
the South Seas. In Cook's time, according to his account,
there was at Tahiti a royal fleet of seventeen hundred and
twenty large war-canoes, handsomely carved, and otherwise
adorned. At present, those used are quite small; nothing more
than logs hollowed out, sharpened at one end, and then lanched
into the water.
To obviate a certain rolling propensity, the Tahitians, like
all Polynesians, attach to them what sailors call an “outrigger.”
It consists of a pole floating alongside, parallel to the canoe,
and connected with it by a couple of cross sticks, a yard or
more in length. Thus equipped, the canoe can not be over-turned,
unless you overcome the buoyancy of the pole, or lift it
entirely out of the water.
Now, Captain Bob's “gig” was exceedingly small; so small,
and of such a grotesque shape, that the sailors christened it the
Pill Box; and by this appellation it always went. In fact, it
was a sort of “sulky,” meant for a solitary paddler, but on an
emergency, capable of floating two or three. The outrigger
was a mere switch, alternately rising in air, and then depressed
in the water.
Assuming the command of the expedition, upon the strength
of my being a sailor, I packed the Long Doctor with a paddle
in the bow, and then shoving off, leaped into the stern; thus
leaving him to do all the work, and reserving to myself the
dignified sinecure of steering. All would have gone well, were
it not that my paddler made such clumsy work, that the water
spattered, and showered down upon us without ceasing. Continuing
to ply his tool, however, quite energetically, I thought
he would improve after a while, and so let him alone. But
by and by, getting wet through with this little storm we were
raising, and seeing no signs of its clearing off, I conjured him, in
mercy's name, to stop short, and let me wring myself out.
Upon this, he suddenly turned round, when the canoe gave a
roll, the outrigger flew overhead, and the next moment came
rap on the doctor's skull, and we were both in the water.
Fortunately, we were just over a ledge of coral, not half-a-fathom
under the surface. Depressing one end of the filled
canoe, and letting go of it quickly, it bounced up, and discharged
great part of its contents; so that we easily baled out the remainder,
and again embarked. This time, my comrade coiled
himself away in a very small space; and enjoining upon him
not to draw a single unnecessary breath, I proceeded to urge
the canoe along by myself. I was astonished at his docility,
never speaking a word, and stirring neither hand nor foot; but
the secret was, he was unable to swim, and in case we met
with a second mishap, there were no more ledges beneath to
stand upon. “Drowning's but a shabby way of going out of the
world,” he exclaimed, upon my rallying him; “and I'm not
going to be guilty of it.”
At last, the ship was at hand, and we approached with much
caution, wishing to avoid being hailed by any one from the
quarter-deck. Dropping silently under her bows, we heard a
low whistle—the signal agreed upon—and presently a goodly
sized bag was lowered over to us.
We cut the line, and then paddled away as fast as we could,
and made the best of our way home. Here, we found the
rest waiting impatiently.
The bag turned out to be well filled with sweet potatoes
boiled, cubes of salt beef and pork, and a famous sailors' pudding,
what they call “duff,” made of flour and water, and of
about the consistence of an underdone brick. With these
delicacies, and keen appetites, we went out into the moonlight,
and had a nocturnal picknick.
