THE SEMAPHORE—IMMUTABLE TIDES—THE CORAL-REEF—SPEARING
FISH—NETTING—CATCHING SHARKS—A ROYAL MAUSOLEUM—SUPERSTITIONS OF EAST AND
WEST—CENTIPEDES—INTOXICATING DRINKS—INFLUENZA—DEATH OF MRS SIMPSON.
_Chez_ THE REV. JAMES GREEN, _Oct. 27th_.
I have had a day after my own heart. In the early morning Mr Green drove
me to the foot of the semaphore hill, up which I toiled, and gave myself
into the care of the old sailor who lives there, watching the horizon
for the first glimpse of a sail, and then hoists signals by which the
good folk of Papeete learn from what direction the new-comer may be
expected. Then, as she draws nearer, the signals reveal her class and
her nationality.
I remained for several hours, working up an elaborate drawing, begun
soon after my arrival. The view of the town and harbour, as seen from
this point, is truly lovely, and the effect of a coral-reef, as you look
down on it from a height, is always fascinating. Every conceivable tint
seems to play beneath the surface—browns and golds blending with pale
aqua-marine and sparkling emerald, while turquoise and cerulean pass
into delicate lilac and purply blue. The reef appears from the semaphore
to lie in the form of a horse-shoe, so that it literally suggests a
rainbow beneath the waters.
By the time Mr Green came to drive me back to breakfast, I was truly
glad to escape from the blazing sun, and to rest in this pleasant home
during the hot hours.
Late in the afternoon Narii lent us a boat, in which we rowed out to the
reef, always to me one of the most enchanting ploys that can be
conceived; and here it gains an additional charm from an extraordinary
phenomenon in the tides, which I am told occurs throughout the Society
Isles, but in no other place that I ever heard of—namely, that they
never vary from one year’s end to another. Day after day they ebb and
flow with unchanging regularity. At noonday and at midnight the tide is
invariably at the full; while at sunrise and sunset—in other words, at
six o’clock morning and evening—throughout the year, it is low water.
The rise and fall rarely exceeds two feet; but periodically, at an
interval of about six months, a mighty sea comes rolling in from the
west or south-west, and, sweeping over the reef, bursts violently on the
shore.
I do not know whether any scientific theory has been propounded
concerning this tidal eccentricity, which is perhaps the most remarkable
thing connected with the group.
I believe some writers have tried to account for it by reference to the
trade-winds, which blow so steadily at certain hours of the day; but
these must have been very inaccurate observers, as the tides rise and
fall with equal regularity in the most sultry calm or the most riotous
sea-breeze. In fact they are sometimes rather higher in dead calms, and
on the leeward side of the isles, which are sheltered from the
trade-winds. In any case, these blow only in the daytime, and die away
entirely at night. Curiously enough, they do not even affect the
periodical flood-tides, or rather tidal waves, of which I spoke just
now, as these invariably come from the westward, whereas the trade-winds
blow steadily from the east. So punctual is the daily rise and fall of
the tides, that the accustomed eyes of the people can discern the hour
of the day by a glance at the shore or the reef, as at a marine
chronometer, which here never loses or gains time.
The peculiar charm of this, as concerns the reef, is that the low tide,
which is the hour of delight, always occurs at the coolest hours of
morning and evening, so there is no temptation to incur sunstroke by
exposure to the noontide rays. And the reef at Tahiti is, beyond all
question, the richest I have seen. It seems to me that all the marvels
of the Fijian reef are here reproduced on a magnified scale—the
mysterious zoophytes are larger, their colours more intense, the forms
of the fish more varied and eccentric, and their scaly dress striped and
zigzagged with patterns like those on an ingenious clown, or perhaps
suggestive of quaint heraldry.
To-night I saw some gigantic specimens of that wonderful star-fish we
first found in Fiji, with fifteen arms covered with very sharp grey and
orange spines like those of an echinus, and an underside of pale-yellow
fleshy feelers with suckers like those of the sea-anemone[45]—a
marvellously uncanny-looking compound. I also saw thousands of prickly
sea-urchins of divers sorts, from the heavy acrocladia,[46] with spikes
as large as your fingers and heavy as stone, to the very brittle species
no larger than a pigeon’s egg, and covered with piercing needles five or
six inches long—a particularly unpleasant creature to step upon,
especially with bare feet, as the natives have. These echini are of all
colours, from the richest maroon and claret to purple and blue. Some are
suggestive of large full-blown thistles, and all more or less resemble
hedgehogs or porcupines. One very delicate flat kind is pure white, and
marked on the back with a very finely traced double star.
Some of the water-snakes are very beautifully marked with blue, gold, or
green bars on a velvety black ground; they glide and coil themselves in
and out of the coral branches. I was much struck by the immense size of
some sea-anemones, as large as a wash-hand basin: these also, are of all
sorts of colours. These are the chosen play-fellows of most exquisite
tiny fish, like morsels of black velvet, with a pattern exactly like a
fairy peacock’s feather on either gill. Not one of these exceeded two
inches in length; and I watched a shoal of about thirty playing
hide-and-seek among the feelers of the polype. You can hardly conceive
anything so fascinating as the glimpses of fairyland to be obtained by
allowing your boat to float at will in the shallowest possible water,
while you peer down into the wonder-world beneath you, where the
many-tinted corals, seaweeds, and zoophytes, form wonderful gardens, of
which the brilliant blue star-fish, and strangely beautiful
sea-anemones, are the gay blossoms.
The butterflies which woo these flowers of the sea are shoals of the
most exquisite minute fishes, which dart through the crystal water like
rays of opal. Now it is a group of turquoise blue, like forget-me-nots
of the deep, and as they vanish among green seaweeds, out flash a merry
party primrose-coloured. Then come a little family of richest Albert
blue, which pause a moment to greet their little friends the pure
gold-fish; and as these glide in between the rock-ledges, up swims a
joyous little shoal of delicate pale-green fish, with perhaps a tiny
silvery eel or two; and some there are pure scarlet, others bright blue
streaked with scarlet. These and a thousand more, varying in form as in
colour, but all alike minute, are among the tempting beauties which make
me always wish you were with me, that I might hear your raptures of
delight.
There are some most attractive gold-fish with broad bands of black,
which terminate in wing-like fins; and others, still more fascinating,
are silvery, with a delicate rosy flush. Some are yellow, striped with
violet; others are pure scarlet, spotted with cobalt. I think my
favourites are bright turquoise blue with a gold collar. Then there are
some very large fish of the glossiest green, and others of a dazzling
crimson. But the most _distingué_-looking fishes are those which temper
their gay colours with bands or zigzags of black velvet. Their forms are
as varied as their colours, long or short, round, flat, or triangular.
While these flash and dart in and out of their forest sanctuary, you may
see large shells travelling over the coral-ledges, a good deal faster
than you would suppose possible, till you see that they are tenanted by
large hermit-crabs. Other crabs are in their own lawful shells, as are
also the wary lobsters; and here and there are scattered some rare
shells, such as we see in collections at home, and suppose to be quite
common in the tropics, where, however, as a rule, they are only obtained
by professional divers. Of course such as are washed up on the shore are
dead shells, utterly worthless.
Quite apart from the mere delight to the eyes of gazing at these varied
beauties, the reef has its useful aspect in regard to the commissariat.
At every low tide a crowd of eager fishers repair thither, to see what
manner of supper awaits them.
Here, as in all these isles where wild animals do not exist, the sea
furnishes the happy hunting-grounds of rich and poor. Swift canoes or
boats take the place of hounds and horses; and the coral-reef affords as
much delight to high and low, as a Scotch deer-forest or heathery moor
does to the wealthy few in Britain.
Can you not fancy the thrilling excitement of standing on the brink of
the reef watching the huge green billows rolling in with thunder roar,
and curling their grand white crests ere dashing on the rock in
cataracts of foam, carrying with them many a strange creature of the
deep? For these the fisherman keeps keen watch, standing with spear all
ready poised to strike whatever may come within his reach. But more
exciting still is the fishing by torchlight on the dark moonless nights,
when a torch made of dried reeds is carried in one hand, and the spear
in the other, ready to strike the unwary fish, attracted by the glare.
Small fish are caught with a different sort of spear, consisting of six
or eight metal rods lashed to a long stick; when this is dexterously
plunged into a shoal, some fish are pretty sure to be pinched and held
firm.
Very often large parties go together to the reef, each bearing a flaming
torch, and sometimes they fish for eels in the rivers in the same way.
In either case the effect is most picturesque. I have seen the shallow
lagoon just inside the reef all illuminated by these flashing lights,
which tell where the canoes are gliding, and just reveal the statuesque
figures at the prow, with uplifted torch and spear all ready poised:
grand studies in bronze, as perfect models as sculptor could desire, and
rich bits of colour for the artist who can render the warm ruddy glow,
reflected by a well-oiled brown skin, with a background of dark sea and
sky.
At other times the sport lies in some form of netting. A whole company
of women assemble, laughing and chattering as only South Sea Islanders
can. Perhaps a dozen are told off to carry a great net, which they sink
when up to their necks in water; then forming a wide semicircle, they
gradually approach the shore, lifting their net so as not to tear it on
the rough coral-bed, and driving as many fish as they can enclose
towards the shallow water, whence they can scoop them up in their little
baskets, which they empty into larger ones slung from the waist. In this
way myriads of tiny silvery fish are caught.
Sometimes the men adopt this method of driving larger fish into shallow
water, and then spear them in the way I have just described. The best
marksmen stand a little apart, watching keenly for any fish that may
escape the net, and throwing their spears at such fugitives with almost
unerring aim. It is a scene of immense excitement; and the fun of the
sport is enhanced by the prospect of an abundant supper. For this sort
of fishing seine-nets are made, 100 feet in length; or else several
large nets, about 40 feet long by 12 deep, are joined together so as to
enclose a very wide space.
Women carry small fine casting-nets in the hand, and throw them so
dexterously as often to enclose a whole shoal of little fishes; some
kinds are no bigger than whitebait. For larger fish, akin to herrings
and salmon, various nets are made of different fibres, such as the
hybiscus, banyan, or pandanus bark or flax, the two latter being the
strongest and most durable. Sometimes two nets are thrown at the same
time—an inner net with fine mesh, and an outer one much coarser—to
resist any larger fish which might break through the inner one. They
were weighted by stones wrapped in cocoa-nut fibre, and the floats are
made of hybiscus-wood, which is found to be very buoyant. When the nets
are brought ashore, they are hung up to dry on the trees and shrubs.
Nowadays the ordinary hooks of commerce have almost superseded the
clumsy but efficacious hooks of pearl-shell or bone. Those used in
fishing for dolphin or bonitos were formerly attached to a
mother-of-pearl shank, about six inches long, carved to resemble a fish.
Excellent wooden hooks were also made by twisting the young roots of the
casuarina or iron-wood tree, and leaving them till they had grown to a
suitable size. In old days, when sharks were considered a delicacy, they
were beguiled by large wooden hooks from twelve to fifteen inches in
length. Cuttle-fish are attracted by a bait very much resembling that
used in Fiji, where an imitation of a rat is made of cowrie-shells. I do
not know whether the Tahitians have a similar legend of the enmity
between the rat and the cuttle-fish. Here the cowrie-shells are cut into
pieces, and fastened one over another like the scales of an armadillo,
and so made into an oval ball the size of a rat. This being attached to
a strong line, is lowered from a canoe, and gently jerked so as to move
like a living creature. The cuttle-fish, which lies safely ensconced in
some hole in the rocks, throws out a long arm and lassoes its prey, the
plated armour giving it a firmer grip. Failing to draw in this unknown
variety of rat, it throws out another arm, and yet another, till at
length it slips out of its stronghold, and is drawn to the surface,
holding its prize firmly enlaced.
It is not “all fish that comes to the net” in these seas. Many which are
wholesome at one season are downright poison during the months when the
coral is said to be in “blossom;” during which time these fish crunch it
with their strong teeth. Others become poisonous by feeding on
sea-centipedes—curious creatures which twine themselves round the coral,
and resemble yards of black string with myriad tiny legs. There are
certain fish which may be eaten with impunity on one isle, and are
positively deadly if caught on other reefs. The natives themselves have
sometimes died by rashly trusting to their experience of their own
fishing-grounds, and so venturing to eat the identical fish caught
elsewhere. There are also certain sea-crabs which it is very unsafe to
eat. Curiously enough, all varieties of land-crab are said to be good
for food; but there is a white-shelled sea-crab which generally proves
fatal, and is sometimes eaten as a means of committing suicide.
Even shell-collectors have to be wary how they handle the treasures they
discover, as there are certain shell-fish which are armed with minute
barbs, through which they inject virulent poison into the hand that
touches them. The most dangerous of these is a beautiful cone,[47] which
has been known to cause death within a few hours. No sooner is it
touched than a thrill of sharp pain flies up to the shoulder, and soon
the body swells to an enormous size, and the hapless sufferer dies in
agony.
Do you remember a somewhat similar case—though happily it did not prove
fatal—which occurred on our own shores, when Mr Hope G—— incautiously
picked up a large jelly-fish, which so poisoned his blood that weeks of
torture ensued? These beautiful sea-thistles (sea-nettles rather) are
not to be touched with impunity.
The men engaged in the _bêche-de-mer_ fisheries find that those hideous
gelatinous slugs which appear so very helpless, are also capable of
inflicting severe pain. They resemble great sausages of dark-coloured
india-rubber, black, grey, red, or greenish, inflated with sea-water.
When touched, they eject this water with some violence, and if it falls
on any wound or scratch it produces dangerous and agonising
inflammation. The smallest drop squirted into the eye causes intolerable
burning pain; and many of the tripang-fishers have their sight seriously
injured from this cause.
But more noxious by far is the olive-green variety, which is commonly
called the leopard, from being marked with orange-coloured spots. When
this creature is touched it throws up glutinous filaments like
darning-cotton, which not only adhere tenaciously to whatever they
touch, but if they come in contact with the human skin, they instantly
raise a painful burning blister and cause serious inflammation. Such
being the case, it would appear discreet to leave these ugly creatures
unmolested; but as they are accounted a great delicacy in China, and
fetch from £80 to £100 per ton, the risk is considered worth incurring.
Another serious danger of the reef arises from the various voracious
sea-eels, which coil themselves up in the interstices of the coral and
dart out to seize any prey which comes within reach. I was severely
bitten myself one day while incautiously feeling for small fish; but
many natives have thus been maimed for life, the loss of a few fingers
being a comparative trifle. I heard of one man in the Paumotu Isles who
had the whole calf of his leg bitten off by a _vaaroa_, or long-mouthed
eel, a reptile which attains a length of eight feet or more, and roams
about the reef seeking what it may devour. It was formerly an object of
worship, in common with the conger-eel; and bloody vengeance has on more
than one occasion been taken by the heathen on such of their Christian
neighbours as have presumed to eat this incarnate god.
About fifteen years ago, a party of about eighty persons reached Samoa,
after drifting over the wide seas for several weeks. They had been
driven away from the isle of Fakaofa, where several of their number had
been killed in consequence of having eaten congereels, which the people
of that isle held in reverence. Another fish-deity was the octopus,
which in heathen days it would have been sacrilege to eat, but which is
now recognised as excellent food. I have never tasted one myself, but I
am told that, though it looks so gelatinous, it really is tough and
unpalatable.
The girls catch delicate young cuttle-fish in the shallows on the reef;
but sometimes the tables are turned and they are themselves caught by
overgrown monsters, which lie concealed in deep holes in the coral, and
throw out long arms covered with suckers, with which they grasp whatever
lies within reach and drag it inward. Some of these measure fully six
feet across the arms, from tip to tip; and many horrible stories are
current among the fishers of their adventures with these hideous
devil-fish. So fully do they recognise the possibility of danger, that
they rarely go out alone to dive for these, or for clam-shells.
The latter have been known to close suddenly, and hold the invader
prisoner till he or she was drowned; and the octopii have an unpleasant
knack of throwing their arms so as to enfold an enemy, who vainly
struggles to extricate himself from their hateful clasp: his arms are
held powerless, and sometimes the hideous creature wraps itself round
his head, so that death is inevitable unless haply his comrade comes to
the rescue.
These fishers know the value of pouring oil on the waters as well as the
poachers on our own Scottish rivers, or the oyster-fishers at Gibraltar
and the Mediterranean generally, so they invariably carry in their
canoes a measure of cocoa-nut oil. By sprinkling a few drops on the
surface of the water, it becomes so perfectly smooth that they can see
right down through its crystal depths, and detect the exact position of
the creatures below. So, when a diver remains under water longer than
usual, his friend in the canoe thus clears the surface, and, peering
into the depths, ascertains what is going on, and, if need be, dives to
the rescue.
Of course these are not the only dangers encountered by the fishers.
There is the ever-abiding dread of sharks, especially the awful white
shark, which grows to about thirty feet in length, and is so fearless
that it is frequently known to attack canoes and drag its victims into
the water, either by seizing some carelessly outstretched limb or by
overturning the canoe. It is a hideous animal, with gigantic mouth and
with broad serrated teeth. I saw an enormous specimen hanging from the
bows of a vessel which was lying at anchor in the harbour.
Even the small lagoon shark is not a pleasant fellow-swimmer, though it
rarely exceeds six feet in length. It ventures into very shallow water,
but makes its home in caves in the coral, in company with its kinsman.
In all these isles it is considered good food; and in many of the groups
(notably the New Hebrides and the Hervey Isles) the bold fishermen
actually dive into the shark-caverns, contrive to pass a slip-knot round
the tail of one of the sleepers, and instantly rise to the surface, when
their companions haul the ugly monster, tail first, into the canoe,
hitting him on the head with all possible speed. You can quite
understand that this sort of fishing is by no means child’s-play.
Sometimes, when a diver has entered a cave, a shark will move so as to
prevent his exit, and then his only chance of ever returning to the
surface lies in the skill with which he can tickle or stroke the
monster, so as to induce it to move aside. Of course he only dares to do
this if the creature’s tail is towards him. Should it have turned the
other way, his fate is almost inevitably sealed, as the slightest
movement on his part would reveal his presence and consign him to the
shark’s maw; and on the other hand, though he is himself wellnigh
amphibious, a delay of a few seconds must cost his life.
One of the most unpleasant inmates of these waters is the stingaree or
sting-ray, which is a large flat fish, the spine of which is prolonged
to a sharp, barbed point, serrated on both sides. The swimmer who
unluckily comes in contact with this weapon receives a dangerous wound,
as the point probably breaks into his flesh, and works its way inward
with every breath he draws.
Even the globe-fish is an uncomfortable neighbour. It is the hedgehog of
the sea, covered with sharp horny spikes. It possesses the curious
faculty of filling itself with air till it becomes a perfect ball, of
the consistency of oiled parchment. Verily, those denizens of the deep
are strange!
_Tuesday, 30th._
This morning, after a pleasant breakfast with Mrs Brander, M. Vernier
called for me in his pony-phaeton, and we drove to visit Queen Pomare’s
tomb, or rather the house in which the royal dead of Tahiti are laid,
and left for a while, till only bones and dust remain. Then a specially
appointed official goes at dead of night and secretly carries the
remains to some place—probably a cave in the mountains—where they are
safely buried; only a very few trusted old adherents being allowed to
know where they are laid. The mausoleum is a hideous little house,
standing on a bare grass lawn by the sea. Till recently it was
surrounded by a fine old grove of sacred casuarina trees; but one
unlucky day Ariiaue was short of money (cruel report says of brandy!),
and he actually sold the venerated trees to some Goth, who cut them for
common timber.
I fancy that the jealous mystery which enshrouds the final burial of
royal bones may be traced to lingering traditions of witchcraft, or some
kindred superstition connected with the ancient system of _taboo_, which
prevailed throughout Polynesia, and entailed divers diseases, and even
death, on those who rashly tampered with things belonging to high
chiefs. The other day a man walked past this door carrying a bunch of
roses. Mrs Green was going to take one, when a half-caste Tahitian cried
out, “Oh, take care! they were gathered in the garden of ——,” naming
some one related to the royal family. I then learnt that to take
anything belonging to royalty, or to wear a garment that has been worn
by any of them, or even to lie on their bed, or rest the head on their
pillow, is supposed to produce king’s evil. So implicit is this belief
among the older generation, that Queen Pomare always made up bundles of
her old clothes and sent them to sea to be sunk outside the reef.
The cure for any person supposed to have incurred danger in this manner
savours of the celebrated prescription in hydrophobia, “Swallow a hair
of the dog that bit you.” The old queen was greatly attached to one of
Mrs Green’s little boys, whom, after the curious fashion of this
country, she called her adopted son, giving him a Tahitian name, by
which alone he was known to the natives. One day, after the boy had been
much with the queen, a suspicious-looking spot broke out on his cheek,
and the native attendants begged Mrs Green to go at once to the queen
and ask her to take the child into bed with her, and cover him up, which
would avert all danger.[48]
This afternoon, for the first time since I landed, I have seen a
centipede—not one, but many, which were lying quietly hidden beneath a
mass of decaying fronds of the cocoa-palm. We put one in a bottle; but
though a large specimen for the Pacific, it is barely six inches in
length. These isles of the blest enjoy a perfect immunity from all
venomous creatures, with this one exception; and it is a very innocent
creature compared with the centipedes of other lands, especially of
Africa and South America. Unfortunately the latter have lately been
carried by foreign ships to some of the Leeward Isles, and in the same
manner scorpions have been brought to Tahiti—a very unfortunate
introduction. The centipedes, small as they are, can give an agonising
bite, which, however, is not actually dangerous to human beings. They
are chiefly fatal to poultry, especially turkeys, which swallow them in
mistake for worms, and invariably die soon afterwards.
These horrid creatures are highly phosphorescent, and leave a trail of
light as they move at night. If crushed, they emit a glow of light, and
hence were in olden days reverenced as an incarnation of divinity; and
Veri, the centipede-god, was worshipped at Mangai, in the Hervey Isles,
where a huge banyan-tree overshadowed his _marae_, among the grey rocks,
and where to this day some say that gigantic centipedes keep guard over
the hidden treasures of the tribe of Teipe, formerly their devout
worshippers.
Speaking of phosphorescent things, did I ever tell you about the curious
luminous fungi which are found in the mountains of Fiji? They gleam with
a pale weird blue light, and the natives occasionally play tricks at the
expense of their superstitious neighbours, suggestive of the
turnip-ghosts of our own foolish young days.
Another new experience of this afternoon has been tasting the far-famed
orange-rum, which is supposed to have such a deteriorating effect on
those addicted to it. It is weak, insipid stuff, like mawkish vinegar. I
should be very sorry to drink a wine-glassful of it, but I should think
a bucketful would scarcely have any effect on the head, however
seriously it might disturb other organs. I am certain it is weaker than
the cider of which English haymakers drink twenty large mugs in a day
with impunity.
But I am told that long before the introduction of oranges, and the
consequent invention of orange-rum, the Tahitians had been taught by the
Hawaiians how to distil an intoxicating spirit from the root of the _ti_
shrub,[49] which is highly saccharine, and is generally baked, and made
into puddings.
They invented a still of the rudest construction. For the boiler they
hollowed a lump of rock, and this they covered with an unwieldy wooden
cover, the rude stump of a tree, into which was inserted a long bamboo,
which rested in a trough of cold water, and conveyed the distilled
spirit into a gourd. This ponderous boiler was set on two layers of
stones, leaving a space for a fire, and was then filled with the baked
_ti_ root, which had been soaked till fermentation had commenced. Then
ensued wild orgies, when all the people of the district gave themselves
up to unbridled licentiousness; and having drunk till they were mad,
generally ended by quarrelling, so that it was not an uncommon thing to
find the remains of one of these rude stills overturned and scattered on
the ground, and around them the corpses of those who had ended their
drunken bout by a free fight, in which clubs and stone axes had proved
efficient weapons.
The practice of this very unpleasant vice spread rapidly to other isles,
and was one of the serious hindrances met with by the early
missionaries. Thus, when Raiatea had for some time been looked upon as a
model island, it only needed the arrival of a trading ship, and of a
cask of spirits, to produce an outbreak on the part of King Tamatoa (not
the present man), which was instantly followed by the mass of the
people, who in their reawakened craving for spirits prepared about
twenty stills, all of which were in full operation, when Mr Williams,
returning after a short absence, found the island which he had left so
orderly and flourishing, all given up to mad drunkenness.
Having had their bout, the people were naturally rather ashamed of
themselves, remembering how nobly their grand old chief, the original
Tamatoa, Queen Pomare’s grandfather, had kept his vow of temperance
during the fifteen years he lived after becoming a Christian. Previous
to that time he too had been a heavy drinker, and being a man of
gigantic strength, and six feet eleven inches in height, he was not
pleasant company when drunk. So it was a happy hour in which he vowed
never again to touch any intoxicating liquor, and became the most
constant attendant at school and chapel.
When his favourite daughter Maikara, the governess of Huahine, heard of
this outbreak in Raiatea, she went over, with some of her trusted
officers, to help the orderly remnant in the isle to carry out the laws
for the destruction of all stills; and though in some districts they met
with considerable opposition, they effected their purpose thoroughly.
Not long afterwards a temperance society was formed, which seems to have
worked satisfactorily on the whole, though of course individuals
sometimes succumb to the temptations so cruelly offered by foreign
ships.
Evidently drunkenness is no longer admired as a kingly attribute, for
the Raiateans banished the present Tamatoa, who was formerly their king,
because of his disagreeable habit of taking pot-shots at his subjects
when he was very far gone. I am happy to say he does not now indulge in
this obnoxious practice, which would be particularly dangerous to us, as
he lives in the next house, and frequently entertains us with wild
rollicking songs, which, however, are not nearly so hateful as his habit
of beating a large drum for several hours at a time! an entertainment
which must be particularly trying to his sweet gentle wife, the charming
Moë, concerning whom even the Frenchmen always speak with unbounded
respect, and whose faithful love to her jovial but very trying spouse
has continued unshaken, notwithstanding all the homage of one sort or
another with which she has been loaded, including that of the author of
‘South Sea Bubbles.’
Just now every one is anxious about her, for she is daily expecting a
small addition to her family, and is exceedingly ill with influenza—a
very violent form of which has recently broken out, severely affecting
lungs and throat. It is a real epidemic. A number of people have died
from it, and such a multitude are suffering, that the town seems _morne_
and sad. Even the band is deserted and the church is empty. Tamatoa
himself, and the queen’s two sisters, Titaua Brander and Moetia
Attwater, are among the sufferers. Mrs Miller and her grown-up sons,
Mme. Fayzeau and her children, and all Mrs Green’s children, are really
very ill—high fever accompanied by utter prostration of strength being
among the symptoms.
It is a most extraordinary fact that on every one of the Polynesian
groups the natives declare that influenza was never known till white men
came; and now it is one of the regular scourges of the Pacific,
returning almost every year in a greater or less degree, but
occasionally proving very severe and fatal, especially to old folk. It
is generally preceded by westerly or southerly winds, and passes off as
the steady trade-winds set in bringing fine settled weather. It first
appeared in Samoa in 1830, just when the first missionaries Williams and
Barff touched the group, and was of course attributed to their
machinations. In the New Hebrides, where it proved a very serious
scourge, it led to the murder of many teachers, who (as I think I have
already told you) were considered to be the disease-makers.
Among those now suffering from it, is dear old Mrs Simpson, the “mother
of missions” in these parts, of whose “pure Biblical English” Lord
Pembroke spoke so admiringly. She is now on a visit to Mrs Brander, to
whom she has been like a second mother. There I have frequently met her,
and we have become great friends. She is planning that I am to visit her
daughter, Mme. Valles, who is married to a retired French officer, and
has a plantation on Moorea. I hope to see it in the course of a few
days.
_Wednesday, 31st Oct._
Alas! the influenza has done its work quickly. Only yesterday morning I
was breakfasting with Mrs Brander on my return from a lovely early ride
with Narii, up the Fautawa valley; Mrs Simpson was unable to appear, and
afterwards a messenger came to tell Mr Green that she was very ill. In
the night I was wakened by a man with a lantern standing at my open
window; he brought tidings of her death.
It is a most trying moment, for this real sorrow occurs just when all
those who were most devoted to the clever, good, and loving old lady,
are compelled from their position to take a leading part in the
festivities for the royal reception in Moorea. Mrs Brander, as chiefess
of the isle, has to make every sort of festal preparation—and now, in
addition to these, she has to make all arrangements for the funeral of
her loved old friend, whose body will be carried to Moorea to-morrow on
board the Seignelay. It will be a terrible shock for poor Mme. Valles,
who to-day is preparing for all the gay doings of to-morrow, little
dreaming that besides all the expected friends, whose visit would have
been such a delight, _one_ will return silent—never more to leave the
isle where her lips first taught the words of life to many....
We start for Moorea to-morrow morning.