43. CHAPTER XLIII.
ONE IS JUDGED BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS.
Although, from its novelty, life at Captain Bob's was
pleasant enough, for the time; there were some few annoyances
connected with it, any thing but agreeable to a “soul of
sensibility.”
Prejudiced against us by the malevolent representations of
the consul and others, many worthy foreigners ashore regarded
us as a set of lawless vagabonds; though, truth to speak, better
behaved sailors never stepped on the island, nor any who gave
less trouble to the natives. But, for all this, whenever we met
a respectably dressed European, ten to one he shunned us, by
going over to the other side of the road. This was very unpleasant,
at least to myself; though, certes, it did not prey
upon the minds of the others.
To give an instance.
Of a fine evening in Tahiti—but they are all fine evenings
there—you may see a bevy of silk bonnets and parasols passing
along the Broom Road: perhaps a band of pale, little
white urchins—sickly exotics—and, oftener still, sedate, elderly
gentlemen, with canes; at whose appearance the natives, here
and there, slink into their huts. These are the missionaries,
their wives, and children, taking a family airing. Sometimes,
by the by, they take horse, and ride down to Point Venus and
back; a distance of several miles. At this place is settled the
only survivor of the first missionaries that landed—an old,
white-headed, saint-like man, by the name of Wilson, the
father of our friend, the consul.
The little parties on foot were frequently encountered; and,
recalling, as they did, so many pleasant recollections of home
and the ladies, I really longed for a dress coat and beaver, that
I might step up and pay my respects. But, situated as I was,
this was out of the question. On one occasion, however, I
received a kind, inquisitive glance, from a matron in gingham.
Sweet lady! I have not forgotten her: her gown was a plaid.
But a glance, like hers, was not always bestowed.
One evening, passing the verandah of a missionary's dwelling,
the dame, his wife, and a pretty, blond young girl, with
ringlets, were sitting there, enjoying the sea-breeze, then
coming in, all cool and refreshing, from the spray of the reef.
As I approached, the old lady peered hard at me; and her
very cap seemed to convey a prim rebuke. The blue, English
eyes, by her side, were also bent on me. But, oh Heavens!
what a glance to receive, from such a beautiful creature! As
for the mob cap, not a fig did I care for it; but, to be taken for
any thing but a cavalier, by the ringleted one, was absolutely
unendurable.
I resolved on a courteous salute, to show my good-breeding,
if nothing more. But, happening to wear a sort of turban—
hereafter to be particularly alluded to—there was no taking it
off and putting it on again, with any thing like dignity. At
any rate, then, here goes a bow. But, another difficulty presented
itself: my loose frock was so voluminous, that I doubted
whether any spinal curviture would be perceptible.
“Good-evening, ladies,” exclaimed I, at last, advancing
winningly; “a delightful air from the sea, ladies.”
Hysterics and hartshorn! who would have thought it? The
young lady screamed, and the old one came near fainting.
As for myself, I retreated, in double quick time; and scarcely
drew breath, until safely housed in the Calabooza.
