73. CHAPTER LXXIII.
OUR RECEPTION IN PARTOOWYE.
Upon starting, at last, I flung away my sandals—by this time
quite worn out—with the view of keeping company with the
doctor, now forced to go barefooted. Recovering his spirits
in good time, he protested that boots were a bore after all, and
going without them decidedly manly.
This was said, be it observed, while strolling along over a
soft carpet of grass; a little moist, even at midday, from the
shade of the wood, through which we were passing.
Emerging from this, we entered upon a blank, sandy tract,
upon which the sun's rays fairly flashed; making the loose
gravel under foot well nigh as hot as the floor of an oven.
Such yelling and leaping as there was in getting over this
ground, would be hard to surpass. We could not have crossed
at all,—until toward sunset,—had it not been for a few small,
wiry bushes, growing here and there; into which we every
now and then thrust our feet to cool. There was no little judgment
necessary in selecting your bush; for if not chosen judiciously,
the chances were, that on springing forward again, and
finding the next bush so far off, that an intermediate cooling
was indispensable, you would have to run back to your old
place again.
Safely passing the Sahara, or Fiery Desert, we soothed our
half-blistered feet by a pleasant walk through a meadow of
long grass, which soon brought us in sight of a few straggling
houses, sheltered by a grove on the outskirts of the village of
Partoowye.
My comrade was for entering the first one we came to;
but, on drawing near, they had so much of an air of pretension,
at least for native dwellings, that I hesitated; thinking
they might be the residences of the higher chiefs, from whom
no very extravagant welcome was to be anticipated.
While standing irresolute, a voice from the nearest house
hailed us: “Aramai! aramai, karhowree!” (“come in! come
in, strangers!”)
We at once entered, and were warmly greeted. The master
of the house was an aristocratic-looking islander; dressed in
loose linen drawers, a fine white shirt, and a sash of red silk,
tied about the waist, after the fashion of the Spaniards in Chili.
He came up to us with a free, frank air, and, striking his chest
with his hand, introduced himself as Ereemear Po-Po; or,
to render the Christian name back again into English—
Jeremiah Po-Po.
These curious combinations of names, among the people
of the Society Islands, originate in the following way. When
a native is baptized, his patronymic often gives offense to the
missionaries, and they insist upon changing to something else
whatever is objectionable therein. So, when Jeremiah came
to the font, and gave his name as Narmo-Nana Po-Po (something
equivalent to The-Darer-of-Devils-by-Night), the reverend
gentleman officiating told him, that such a heathenish appellation
would never do, and a substitute must be had; at least for
the devil part of it. Some highly respectable Christian appellations
were then submitted, from which the candidate for admission
into the church was at liberty to choose. There was
Adamo (Adam), Nooar (Noah), Daveedar (David), Earcobar
(James), Eorna (John), Patoora (Peter), Ereemear (Jeremiah),
&c. And thus did he come to be named Jeremiah Po-Po; or,
Jeremiah-in-the-Dark —which he certainly was, I fancy, as to
the ridiculousness of his new cognomen.
We gave our names in return; upon which he bade us be
seated; and, sitting down himself, asked us a great many questions,
in mixed English and Tahitian. After giving some directions
to an old man, to prepare food, our host's wife, a large,
benevolent-looking woman, upward of forty, also sat down by
us. In our soiled and travel-stained appearance, the good lady
seemed to find abundant matter for commiseration; and all
the while kept looking at us piteously, and making mournful
exclamations.
But Jeremiah and his spouse were not the only inmates of
the mansion.
In one corner, upon a large native couch, elevated upon
posts, reclined a nymph; who, half-veiled in her own long hair,
had yet to make her toilet for the day. She was the only
daughter of Po-Po; and a very beautiful little daughter she
was; not more than fourteen; with the most delightful shape
—like a bud just blown; and large hazel eyes. They called
her Loo: a name rather pretty and genteel, and, therefore,
quite appropriate; for a more genteel and lady-like little
damsel there was not in all Imeeo.
She was a cold and haughty young beauty though, this same
little Loo, and never deigned to notice us; further than now
and then to let her eyes float over our persons, with an expression
of indolent indifference. With the tears of the Loohooloo
girls hardly dry from their sobbing upon our shoulders, this
contemptuous treatment stung us not a little.
When we first entered, Po-Po was raking smooth the carpet
of dried ferns which had that morning been newly laid; and
now that our meal was ready, it was spread on a banana leaf,
right upon this fragrant floor. Here, we lounged at our ease;
eating baked pig and bread-fruit off earthen plates, and using,
for the first time in many a long month, real knives and forks.
These, as well as other symptoms of refinement, somewhat
abated our surprise at the reserve of the little Loo: her parents,
doubtless, were magnates in Partoowye, and she herself
was an heiress.
After being informed of our stay in the vale of Martair, they
were very curious to know, on what errand we came to Taloo.
We merely hinted, that the ship lying in the harbor was the
reason of our coming.
Arfretee, Po-Po's wife, was a right motherly body. The
meal over, she recommended a nap; and upon our waking
much refreshed, she led us to the doorway, and pointed down
among the trees; through which we saw the gleam of water.
Taking the hint, we repaired thither; and finding a deep shaded
pool, bathed, and returned to the house. Our hostess now sat
down by us; and after looking with great interest at the doctor's
cloak, felt of my own soiled and tattered garments for the
hundredth time, and exclaimed plaintively—“Ah nuee nuee
olee manee! olee manee!” (alas! they are very, very old!
very old!)
When Arfretee, good soul, thus addressed us, she thought
she was talking very respectable English. The word “nuee”
is so familiar to foreigners, throughout Polynesia, and is so
often used by them in their intercourse with the natives, that
the latter suppose it to be common to all mankind. “Olee
manee” is the native pronunciation of “old man,” which, by
Society Islanders talking Saxon, is applied indiscriminately to
all aged things and persons whatsoever.
Going to a chest filled with various European articles, she
took out two suits of new sailor frocks and trowsers; and presenting
them with a gracious smile, pushed us behind a calico
screen, and left us. Without any fastidious scruples, we donned
the garments; and what with the meal, the nap, and the bath,
we now came forth like a couple of bridegrooms.
Evening drawing on, lamps were lighted. They were very simple:
the half of a green melon, about one third full of cocoa-nut
oil, and a wick of twisted tappa floating on the surface. As a
night lamp, this contrivance can not be excelled; a soft dreamy
light being shed through the transparent rind.
As the evening advanced, other members of the household,
whom as yet we had not seen, began to drop in. There was a
slender young dandy in a gay striped shirt, and whole fathoms
of bright figured calico tucked about his waist, and falling to
the ground. He wore a new straw hat also, with three distinct
ribbons tied about the crown; one black, one green, and one
pink. Shoes or stockings, however, he had none.
There were a couple of delicate, olive-cheeked little girls
—twins—with mild eyes and beautiful hair, who ran about
the house, half-naked, like a couple of gazelles. They had a
brother, somewhat younger—a fine dark boy, with an eye like
a woman's. All these were the children of Po-Po, begotten in
lawful wedlock.
Then, there were two or three queer-looking old ladies, who
wore shabby mantles of soiled sheeting; which fitted so badly,
and withal, had such a second-hand look, that I at once put their
wearers down as domestic paupers—poor relations, supported
by the bounty of My Lady Arfretee. They were sad, meek old
bodies; said little and ate less; and either kept their eyes on
the ground, or lifted them up deferentially. The semi-civilization
of the island must have had something to do with making
them what they were.
I had almost forgotten Monee, the grinning old man who
prepared our meal. His head was a shining, bald globe.
He had a round little paunch, and legs like a cat. He was
Po-Po's factotum—cook, butler, and climber of the bread-fruit
and cocoa-nut trees; and, added to all else, a mighty favorite
with his mistress; with whom he would sit smoking and gossiping
by the hour.
Often you saw the indefatigable Monee working away at a
great rate; then dropping his employment all at once—never
mind what—run off to a little distance, and after rolling himself
away in a corner, and taking a nap, jump up again, and fall to
with fresh vigor.
From a certain something in the behavior of Po-Po and his
household, I was led to believe, that he was a pillar of the
church; though, from what I had seen in Tahiti, I could hardly
reconcile such a supposition with his frank, cordial, unembarrassed
air. But I was not wrong in my conjecture: Po-Po
turned out to be a sort of elder, or deacon; he was also accounted
a man of wealth, and was nearly related to a high
chief.
Before retiring, the entire household gathered upon the floor;
and in their midst, he read aloud a chapter from a Tahitian
Bible. Then kneeling with the rest of us, he offered up a
prayer. Upon its conclusion, all separated without speaking.
These devotions took place regularly, every night and morning.
Grace too, was invariably said, by this family, both before and
after eating.
After becoming familiarized with the almost utter destitution
of any thing like practical piety, upon these islands, what I observed
in our host's house astonished me much. But whatever
others might have been, Po-Po was, in truth, a Christian: the
only one, Arfretee excepted, whom I personally knew to be
such, among all the natives of Polynesia.
