72. CHAPTER LXXII.
A DEALER IN THE CONTRABAND.
It must have been at least the tenth day, reckoning from the
Hegira, that we found ourselves the guests of Varvy, an old
hermit of an islander, who kept house by himself, perhaps a
couple of leagues from Taloo.
A stone's cast from the beach there was a fantastic rock, moss-grown,
and deep in a dell. It was insulated by a shallow brook,
which, dividing its waters, flowed on both sides, until united
below. Twisting its roots round the rock, a gnarled “Aoa”
spread itself overhead in a wilderness of foliage; the elastic
branch-roots depending from the larger boughs, insinuating
themselves into every cleft, thus forming supports to the parent
stem. In some places, these pendulous branches, half-grown,
had not yet reached the rock; swinging their loose fibrous ends
in the air like whiplashes.
Varvy's hut, a mere coop of bamboos, was perched upon a
level part of the rock, the ridge-pole resting at one end in a
crotch of the “Aoa,” and the other, propped by a forked bough
planted in a fissure.
Notwithstanding our cries as we drew near, the first hint the
old hermit received of our approach, was the doctor's stepping
up and touching his shoulder, as he was kneeling over on a stone,
cleaning fish in the brook. He leaped up, and stared at us.
But with a variety of uncouth gestures, he soon made us welcome;
informing us, by the same means, that he was both deaf
and dumb; he then motioned us into his dwelling.
Going in, we threw ourselves upon an old mat, and peered
round. The soiled bamboos and calabashes looked so uninviting,
that the doctor was for pushing on to Taloo that night,
notwithstanding it was near sunset. But at length we concluded
to stay where we were.
After a good deal of bustling outside under a decrepit shed,
the old man made his appearance with our supper. In one
hand he held a flickering taper, and in the other, a huge, flat
calabash, scantily filled with viands. His eyes were dancing in
his head, and he looked from the calabash to us, and from us
to the calabash, as much as to say, “Ah, my lads, what do ye
think of this, eh? Pretty good cheer, eh?” But the fish and
Indian turnip being none of the best, we made but a sorry
meal. While discussing it, the old man tried hard to make
himself understood by signs; most of which were so excessively
ludicrous, that we made no doubt he was perpetrating a series
of pantomimic jokes.
The remnants of the feast removed, our host left us for a moment,
returning with a calabash of portly dimensions, and furnished
with a long, hooked neck, the mouth of which was stopped
with a wooden plug. It was covered with particles of
earth, and looked as if just taken from some place under
ground.
With sundry winks and horrible giggles peculiar to the
dumb, the vegetable demijohn was now tapped; the old fellow
looking round cautiously, and pointing at it; as much as to intimate,
that it contained some thing which was “taboo,” or forbidden.
Aware that intoxicating liquors were strictly prohibited to
the natives, we now watched our entertainer with much interest.
Charging a cocoa-nut shell, he tossed it off, and then filling
up again, presented the goblet to me. Disliking the smell,
I made faces at it; upon which he became highly excited; so
much so, that a miracle was wrought upon the spot. Snatching
the cup from my hands, he shouted out, “Ah, karhowree
sabbee lee-lee, ena arva tee maitai!” in other words, what a
blockhead of a white man! this is the real stuff!
We could not have been more startled, had a frog leaped
from his mouth. For an instant, he looked confused enough
himself; and then placing a finger mysteriously upon his mouth,
he contrived to make us understand, that at times he was subject
to a suspension of the powers of speech.
Deeming the phenomenon a remarkable one, every way, the
doctor desired him to open his mouth, so that he might have a
look down. But he refused.
This occurrence made us rather suspicious of our host; nor
could we afterward account for his conduct, except by supposing
that his feigning dumbness might in some way or other assist
him in the nefarious pursuits, in which it afterward turned
out that he was engaged. This conclusion, however, was not
altogether satisfactory.
To oblige him, we at last took a sip of his “arva tee,” and
found it very crude, and strong as Lucifer. Curious to know
whence it was obtained, we questioned him; when, lighting up
with pleasure, he seized the taper, and led us outside the hut,
bidding us follow.
After going some distance through the woods, we came to a
dismantled old shed of boughs, apparently abandoned to decay.
Underneath, nothing was to be seen but heaps of decaying
leaves and an immense, clumsy jar, wide-mouthed, and, by some
means, rudely hollowed out from a ponderous stone.
Here, for a while, we were left to ourselves; the old man
placing the light in the jar, and then disappearing. He returned,
carrying a long, large bamboo, and a crotched stick.
Throwing these down, he poked under a pile of rubbish, and
brought out a rough block of wood, pierced through and through
with a hole, which was immediately clapped on top of the jar.
Then planting the crotched stick upright about two yards distant,
and making it sustain one end of the bamboo, he inserted
the other end of the latter into the hole in the block; concluding
these arrangements, by placing an old calabash under the
farther end of the bamboo.
Coming up to us now with a sly, significant look, and pointing
admiringly at his apparatus, he exclaimed, “Ah, karhowree,
ena hannahanna arva tee!” as much as to say, “This, you see,
is the way it's done.”
His contrivance was nothing less than a native still, where he
manufactured his island “poteen.” The disarray in which we
found it, was probably intentional, as a security against detection.
Before we left the shed, the old fellow toppled the whole
concern over, and dragged it away piecemeal.
His disclosing his secret to us thus, was characteristic of the
“Tootai Owrees,” or contemners of the missionaries among the
natives; who, presuming that all foreigners are opposed to the
ascendency of the missionaries, take pleasure in making them
confidants, whenever the enactments of their rulers are secretly
set at naught.
The substance from which the liquor is produced is called
“Tee,” which is a large, fibrous root, something like a yam, but
smaller. In its green state, it is exceedingly acrid; but boiled
or baked, has the sweetness of the sugar-cane. After being
subjected to the fire, macerated, and reduced to a certain stage
of fermentation, the “Tee” is stirred up with water, and is then
ready for distillation.
On returning to the hut, pipes were introduced; and, after a
while, Long Ghost, who, at first, had relished the “Arva Tee”
as little as myself, to my surprise, began to wax sociable over
it, with Varvy; and, before long, absolutely got mellow, the
old toper keeping him company.
It was a curious sight. Every one knows, that, so long as
the occasion lasts, there is no stronger bond of sympathy and
good-feeling among men, than getting tipsy together. And
how earnestly, nay, movingly, a brace of worthies, thus employed,
will endeavor to shed light upon, and elucidate their
mystical ideas!
Fancy Varvy and the doctor, then; lovingly tippling, and
brimming over with a desire to become better acquainted; the
doctor politely bent upon carrying on the conversation in the
language of his host, and the old hermit persisting in trying to
talk English. The result was, that between the two, they
made such a fricasee of vowels and consonants, that it was
enough to turn one's brain.
The next morning, on waking, I heard a voice from the
tombs. It was the doctor, solemnly pronouncing himself a
dead man. He was sitting up, with both hands clasped over
his forehead, and his pale face a thousand times paler than
ever.
“That infernal stuff has murdered me!” he cried. “Heavens!
my head's all wheels and springs, like the automaton chess-player!
What's to be done, Paul? I'm poisoned.”
But, after drinking an herbal draught, concocted by our
host, and eating a light meal, at noon, he felt much better;
so much so, that he declared himself ready to continue our
journey.
When we came to start, the Yankee's boots were missing;
and, after a diligent search, were not to be found. Enraged
beyond measure, their proprietor said that Varvy must have
stolen them; but, considering his hospitality, I thought this
extremely improbable; though, to whom else to impute the
theft, I knew not. The doctor maintained, however, that one
who was capable of drugging an innocent traveler with “Arva
Tee,” was capable of any thing.
But it was in vain that he stormed, and Varvy and I
searched; the boots were gone.
Were it not for this mysterious occurrence, and Varvy's
detestable liquors, I would here recommend all travelers going
round by the beach to Partoowye, to stop at the Rock, and
patronize the old gentleman—the more especially as he entertains
gratis.
