76. CHAPTER LXXVI.
AN ISLAND JILT.—WE VISIT THE SHIP.
Upon arriving home, we fully laid open to Po-Po our motives
in visiting Taloo, and begged his friendly advice. In his
broken English, he cheerfully gave us all the information we
needed.
It was true, he said, that the queen entertained some idea of
making a stand against the French; and it was currently reported,
also, that several chiefs from Borabora, Huwyenee,
Raiatair, and Tahar, the leeward islands of the group, were at
that very time taking counsel with her, as to the expediency of
organizing a general movement throughout the entire cluster,
with a view of anticipating any further encroachments on the
part of the invaders. Should warlike measures be actually decided
upon, it was quite certain that Pomaree would be glad
to enlist all the foreigners she could; but as to her making
officers of either the doctor or me, that was out of the question;
because, already, a number of Europeans, well known to her,
had volunteered as such. Concerning our getting immediate
access to the queen, Po-Po told us it was rather doubtful; she
living at that time very retired, in poor health and spirits, and
averse to receiving calls. Previous to her misfortunes, however,
no one, however humble, was denied admittance to her
presence; sailors, even, attended her levees.
Not at all disheartened by these things, we concluded to kill
time in Partoowye, until some event turned up more favorable
to our projects. So that very day we sallied out on an excursion
to the ship, which, lying land-locked, far up the bay, yet
remained to be visited.
Passing, on our route, a long, low shed, a voice, hailed us—
“White men ahoy!” Turning round, who should we see but
a rosy-cheeked Englishman (you could tell his country at a
glance), up to his knees in shavings, and planing away at a
bench. He turned out to be a runaway ship's carpenter, recently
from Tahiti, and now doing a profitable business in
Imeeo, by fitting up the dwellings of opulent chiefs with cupboards
and other conveniences, and once in a while trying his
hand at a lady's work-box. He had been in the settlement but
a few months, and already possessed houses and lands.
But though blessed with prosperity and high health, there
was one thing wanting—a wife. And when he came to speak
of the matter, his countenance fell, and he leaned dejectedly
upon his plane.
“It's too bad!” he sighed, “to wait three long years; and
all the while, dear little Lullee living in the same house with
that infernal chief from Tahar!”
Our curiosity was piqued; the poor carpenter, then, had been
falling in love with some island coquet, who was going to jilt
him.
But such was not the case. There was a law prohibiting,
under a heavy penalty, the marriage of a native with a foreigner,
unless the latter, after being three years a resident on the
island, was willing to affirm his settled intention of remaining
for life.
William was therefore in a sad way. He told us that he
might have married the girl half-a-dozen times, had it not been
for this odious law; but, latterly, she had become less loving
and more giddy, particularly with the strangers from Tahar.
Depserately smitten, and desirous of securing her at all hazards,
he had proposed to the damsel's friends a nice little arrangement,
introductory to marriage; but they would not hear
of it; besides, if the pair were discovered living together upon
such a footing, they would be liable to a degrading punishment:—sent
to work making stone walls and opening roads for
the queen.
Doctor Long Ghost was all sympathy. “Bill, my good fellow,”
said he, tremulously, “let me go and talk to her.” But
Bill, declining the offer, would not even inform us where his
charmer lived.
Leaving the disconsolate Willie planing a plank of New
Zealand pine (an importation from the Bay of Islands), and
thinking the while of Lullee, we went on our way. How his
suit prospered in the end, we never learned.
Going from Po-Po's house toward the anchorage of the harbor
of Taloo, you catch no glimpse of the water, until coming
out from deep groves, you all at once find yourself upon the
beach. A bay, considered by many voyagers the most beautiful
in the South Seas, then lies before you. You stand upon
one side of what seems a deep, green river, flowing through
mountain passes to the sea. Right opposite, a majestic promontory
divides the inlet from another, called after its discoverer,
Captain Cook. The face of this promontory toward Taloo is
one verdant wall; and at its base the waters lie still, and fathomless.
On the left hand, you just catch a peep of the widening
mouth of the bay, the break in the reef by which ships enter,
and beyond, the sea. To the right, the inlet, sweeping boldly
round the promontory, runs far away into the land; where, save
in one direction, the hills close in on every side, knee-deep in
verdure, and shooting aloft in grotesque peaks. The open
space lies at the head of the bay; in the distance it extends
into a broad, hazy plain lying at the foot of an amphitheatre
of hills. Here is the large sugar plantation previously alluded
to. Beyond the first range of hills, you descry the sharp pinnacles
of the interior; and among these, the same silent Marling-spike,
which we so often admired from the other side of the
island.
All alone in the harbor lay the good ship Leviathan. We
jumped into the canoe, and paddled off to her. Though early
in the afternoon, every thing was quiet; but upon mounting
the side, we found four or five sailors lounging about the forecastle,
under an awning. They gave us no very cordial reception;
and though otherwise quite hearty in appearance, seemed
to assume a look of ill-humor on purpose to honor our arrival.
There was much eagerness to learn whether we wanted to
“ship;” and by the unpleasant accounts they gave of the vessel,
they seemed desirous to prevent such a thing, if possible.
We asked where the rest of the ship's company were; a
gruff old fellow made answer, “One boat's crew of 'em is gone
to Davy Jones's locker:—went off after a whale, last cruise,
and never come back agin. All the starboard watch ran away
last night, and the skipper's ashore kitching 'em.”
“And it's shipping yer after, my jewels, is it?” cried a curly-pated
little Belfast sailor, coming up to us, “thin arrah! my
livelies, jist be after sailing ashore in a jiffy:—the divil of a
skipper will carry yees both to sea, whether or no. Be off
wid ye, thin, darlints, and steer clear of the likes of this ballyhoo
of blazes as long as ye live. They murther us here every
day, and starve us into the bargain. Here, Dick, lad, harl the
poor divils' canow alongside; and paddle away wid yees for
dear life.”
But we loitered awhile, listening to more inducements to
ship; and at last concluded to stay to supper. My sheath-knife
never cut into better sea-beef than that which we found
lying in the kid in the forecastle. The bread, too, was hard,
dry, and brittle as glass; and there was plenty of both.
While we were below, the mate of the vessel called out for
some one to come on deck. I liked his voice. Hearing it was
as good as a look at his face. It betokened a true sailor, and
no taskmaster.
The appearance of the Leviathan herself was quite pleasing.
Like all large, comfortable old whalers, she had a sort of
motherly look:—broad in the beam, flush decks, and four chubby
boats hanging at the breast. Her sails were furled loosely
upon the yards, as if they had been worn long, and fitted easy;
her shrouds swung negligently slack; and as for the “running
rigging,” it never worked hard as it does in some of your
“dandy ships,” jamming in the sheaves of blocks, like Chinese
slippers, too small to be useful; on the contrary, the ropes ran
glibly through, as if they had many a time traveled the same
road, and were used to it.
When evening came, we dropped into our canoe, and paddled
ashore; fully convinced that the good ship never deserved
the name which they gave her.
