CHAPTER XLIV.

VISIT OF TWO SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS.

When our brig left Tucopea she brought away two natives of that island,

who had most earnestly entreated the captain to take them off, and leave

them upon any other land he pleased, as, according to their statement,

Tucopea was so overstocked with inhabitants that it was scarcely possible

to find subsistence; and the scarcity of food had become so general, that

parents destroyed their children rather than witness their sufferings

from famine. Captain Kent, therefore, from motives of compassion,

received them on board his ship; and, not having touched at any inhabited

spot, brought them with him here. Their extraordinary appearance excited

a great deal of surprise, both among Europeans and New Zealanders. They

appeared simple, timid creatures, though stout and comely, but their hair

was unlike anything I had before beheld, as in length it reached below

the waist, and was so abundantly thick as completely to conceal their

faces. By some curious chemical process which the natives of Tucopea have

discovered, they render their hair a bright sulphur colour; and, as this

mass of yellow hangs over their faces and shoulders, they bear the most

striking resemblance to the lion monkeys of the Brazils.

These poor creatures, upon landing, shook with fear, and trembled greatly

when they beheld the New Zealanders, whose character for cannibalism had

reached even their remote island: when our friend George went up to them,

and lifted up (in order to examine closely) the curious mass of hair in

which they were enveloped, they burst into a passionate fit of tears, and

ran up to us for protection. The New Zealanders, with characteristic

cunning, perceiving the horror they had created, tormented them still

more cruelly, by making grotesque signs, as if they were about to

commence devouring them; and, at the same time (like most savages),

evincing the most sovereign contempt for them, from their apparent

pusillanimity.

After they had been some days on shore, we had a very diverting scene

with them, which exhibited strongly the great difference there is in the

nature of the two classes of savages we now had such opportunities of

observing. I had brought my violin from Sydney, on which I used to play

occasionally. The New Zealanders generally expressed the greatest dislike

to it; and my companions used to rally me much on the subject, saying it

was not that the savages did not like music, but it was my discordant

playing that frightened them away, which might be true. It was, however,

a useful discovery for us all, as I often took that method of civilly

driving them out of our house when we grew tired of their company. But

when I began to play before the Tucopeans, the effect it had instantly

upon them was ludicrous in the extreme. They sprang up, and began dancing

most furiously; at the same time, so waving their heads about as to keep

their long hair extended at its fullest length: as I played faster, they

quickened their pace. A lively Scotch reel seemed to render them nearly

frantic; and when I ceased playing, they threw themselves down on the

floor quite exhausted, and unable to articulate a word. I have observed

(generally speaking) that savages are not much affected by music; but

these two Tucopeans were excited to a most extraordinary degree.

A Narrative of a Nine Months' Residence in New Zealand in 1827 · 第 44 / 56 章