VAIN REGRETS—SOME ACCOUNT OF THE MARQUESAS AND THE PAUMOTU GROUPS.
PAPEETE, _November 11th_.
I am certainly very glad that my good friends here supplied the moral
courage which I failed to find, and so enabled me to repent at the
eleventh hour. I do rejoice in the sense of repose, knowing that for at
least two months I may now explore the many scenes of enchantment which
lie on every side, without a thought of hurry.
Yet even this joy is not unmixed. I do find it very hard to be truly
philosophical, and not to cry over spilt milk, when I think of the
delightful cruise to the Marquesas and Paumotus, which would so
admirably have filled up this first fortnight, had I only been able to
decide three days earlier.
But it was not till the hospitable ship had sailed, that I found leisure
soberly to think the matter over, and to realise how very rare and
precious a chance I had so idiotically thrown away. When your eyes are
satiated with grand scenery, and each lovely group of isles seems only
to differ from the last in its degree of special beauty, you are apt to
think that really you have seen enough, and may as well pause and be
satisfied with all the exquisite pictures which crowd before your
memory. So, when these most kind friends urged me to accompany them on
this expedition, I was so absorbed in working up some of the innumerable
sketches made on the last trip, that I never took time to think out the
subject in all its bearings, and to see how impossible it would be for
me to reach Honolulu by sailing-ship, see all the wonders of the
Sandwich Isles, and then return to New Zealand or Sydney before
Christmas, as I had proposed doing.
Neither did I at all realise how very few travellers have ever seen the
Marquesas, and how very little is known about them by the general
public, beyond the bare facts of their having been discovered by the
Spaniards in 1595, and by them named after the Marquesas de Mendoza, the
Viceroy of Peru.
They then seem to have been forgotten till about the year 1777, when
they were visited by Captain Cook, who has recorded his admiration of
their loveliness, and declared that the inhabitants were the finest race
he had seen, “in fine shape and regular features perhaps surpassing all
other nations,” “as fair as some Europeans, and much tattooed.” He found
fine harbours, from twenty to thirty fathoms deep, close inshore, with
clear sandy bottom; good store of wood and water; and at first the
natives seemed inclined to receive the strangers kindly, but became less
cordial on further acquaintance.
Soon afterwards the London Mission endeavoured to establish a station in
the group, but found the people such savage cannibals, that the position
was untenable, and they were forced to abandon it. From that time
forward we have only an occasional record of some American man-of-war
having touched there, invariably confirming Cook’s account of the beauty
of the people and of the isles.
In 1837 the French sent out an exploring expedition commanded by
D’Urville, whose somewhat remarkable official orders were,
“_d’apprivoiser les hommes, et de rendre les femmes un peu plus
sauvages!_”
The result of his report was, that the French decided on establishing
themselves in the Marquesas, the Society, and the Paumotu Isles.
Accordingly, in 1842, an expedition sailed from Brest to effect this
purpose, its destination being a secret known only to its commander. The
Marquesas were selected as the best centre of operations. A squadron of
four heavy frigates and three corvettes, commanded by Rear-Admiral Du
Petit Thouars, accordingly astonished the natives by suddenly appearing
in the lovely harbour of Taiohae, on the island of Nukuheva; and very
soon these simple folk learned the full meaning of the gay tricoloured
flags and bristling broadsides.
The ostensible pretext for this invasion was that of reinstating
Mowanna, the friendly chief of Nukuheva, in what the French thought
proper to assume as his ancestral right—namely, that of ruling over the
whole group of twelve isles, each of which had hitherto considered
itself as a distinct world, subdivided into many antagonistic kingdoms.
However, a puppet-king was the pretext required, and Mowanna furnished
it, and was rewarded with regal honours and a gorgeous military uniform,
rich with gold lace and embroidery.
Of course he and his tribe of Nukuhevans were vastly delighted,
perceiving that they had gained omnipotent allies; and when five hundred
troops were landed in full uniform, and daily drilled by resplendent
officers, their admiration knew no bounds. They recollected how, when in
1814, the U.S. frigate Essex, commanded by Captain Porter, had refitted
at Nukuheva, she had lent them a considerable force of sailors and
marines, to assist their own body of 2000 men in attacking a
neighbouring tribe. The latter had offered a desperate resistance, and
repulsed the allied forces, who, however, consoled themselves by burning
every village they could reach, thus giving the inhabitants good cause
to hate the white men’s ships.
Now, with the aid of these warlike French troops, the Nukuhevans thought
themselves sure of victory, with the prospect of retaining the
supremacy. But when fortifications were commenced, and the troops
surrounded their camps with solid works of defence, making it evident
that the occupation was to be a permanent one, a feeling of detestation,
mingled with fear of the invaders, gradually increased, and was
certainly not lessened by several sharp encounters, in one of which, 150
natives are said to have been slain. However, the reign of might
prevailed, and the tricolour has floated over the Marquesas unchallenged
from that time to the present.
This appropriation of the Marquesas was immediately followed by that of
the Society Isles, whither the admiral proceeded in the Reine Blanche
frigate, leaving the rest of the squadron at the Marquesas. He anchored
in the harbour of Papeete, and sent a message to Queen Pomare to the
effect that, unless she immediately agreed to pay somewhere about 30,000
dollars as an indemnity for alleged insults to the French flag, he would
bombard the defenceless town.
The said insults were very much like those offered by the lamb to the
wolf in the old fable, the pretext raked up being simply that Queen
Pomare and all her people, having already become stanch Christians,
according to the teaching of the London Mission, had positively refused
to allow certain French priests to settle in the isles, and found a
Roman Catholic Mission, with a view to proselytising. These proving
obstinate in their determination to remain, had, with all due honour,
been conveyed on board a vessel about to sail for some distant port,
with a sensible recommendation to pursue their calling on some of the
many isles which were still heathen.
The French admiral now insisted that, in addition to paying the
indemnity demanded, the people of Tahiti should, at their own expense,
erect a Roman Catholic church in every district where they had built one
for their congregational worship.
The unhappy queen, terrified lest the arrogant Du Petit Thouars should
commence bombarding her helpless capital, yet utterly incapable of
complying with his unjust demands, fled by night in a canoe to the isle
of Moorea, knowing that no decisive action could be taken in her
absence. Her best friend and adviser throughout these troubles was the
British consul, Mr Pritchard. The admiral, perceiving this, caused him
to be arrested and imprisoned. After being kept for ten days in solitary
confinement, he was put on board an English vessel out at sea, and
forcibly sent away from the islands without a trial or investigation of
any kind.
On his arrival in England the British Government naturally demanded an
explanation of such proceedings. M. Guizot replied that the French
authorities at Tahiti found they could make no progress there because of
Mr Pritchard’s great influence with the queen—in other words, his
determination, if possible, to see fair play. The French Government,
therefore, approved the action of its officials, but promised to
indemnify Mr Pritchard for what they themselves described as his illegal
imprisonment and pecuniary losses. We have, however, Mr Pritchard’s own
authority for the fact that, in the year 1880, he had never received one
single _sou_ of the promised indemnity; and England apparently
considered it the part of wisdom, if not of honour, to let the subject
drop.
So the French pirates (for certainly in all this matter they acted as
such) compelled the poor queen and her chiefs to yield to their demands.
Some, indeed, strove to make a brave stand, and drive the invaders from
their shores; but what could these unarmed warriors do against
artillery? They retreated to their mountain fastnesses, but French
troops pursued them thither, built scientific forts, and remained
masters of the position. The good, sensible queen, who had proved
herself so wise a ruler of a happy and peaceful people up to this
terrible November 1843, was now declared incompetent to govern. The
French Protectorate was established,[53] and the Reine Blanche having
saluted the Protectorate flag, desired the queen and chiefs to do
likewise—an order which they were unable to obey, till the admiral
politely offered to lend the necessary gunpowder! Thus was this
buccaneering expedition carried out, and France established as ruler in
the three groups—the Marquesas, the Paumotus, and the Society Isles.[54]
It was a South Sea version of
“The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;”—
but in this case the lamb found no deliverer.
This bare historical outline was literally all I knew about the
Marquesas Isles, and I doubt whether you or any one else in England
knows much more.
Now that through my ignorance I have thrown away such a chance of
visiting them, and also the Paumotus, I am told on all sides that they
are the loveliest group in the Pacific, ideal in their beauty—embodied
poems; and so I am fuming over my own folly, and telling myself that a
traveller who could let slip such a golden opportunity must have reached
second childhood, and is no longer fit to wander at large. I try to be
philosophical, and not fret over the irrevocable; but of all the
scattered leaves that I have yet suffered to float past me on that
“stream that never returneth,” none has aggravated me so sorely as this.
I am assured on all hands that I should have received a genial welcome
from the French governor and Madame —— and their little society, and
that the expedition would have been in every respect exceptionally
delightful.
As it is, I can only gather a few faint visions of the lovely isles by
stringing together such particulars as I can learn respecting them. To
begin with, “Les isles Marquises” comprise twelve volcanic isles, thrown
up in wildly irregular black crags, the central range of the larger
isles towering to a height of 5000 feet, while in many places
inaccessible crags rise perpendicular from the sea, but are so
exquisitely draped with parasitic plants as to resemble a succession of
green waterfalls. Not that true waterfalls are lacking. On the contrary,
the mountains are furrowed with deep ravines, in each one of which flows
a sparkling river of clearest water, fed by countless cascades, which
fall from high cliffs, and, uniting in the upper valleys, leap in
rushing cataracts over the sheer precipices, by which alone they may
reach the lower levels.
Six of these islands are inhabited—namely, Nukuheva, Hiva-oa (commonly
called Dominica), Tetuhiva, Tahuata, Uapou, and Uahuna, Of these, the
principal are Nukuheva and Dominica.
The former is about 17 miles in length by 12 in breadth—the latter 20 by
7. The population of the group, which a few years ago was roughly
estimated at from 15,000 to 20,000, does not now exceed 5000, of whom
3000 are the inhabitants of Dominique. On all the other islands the
population was decimated about fifteen years ago by the so-called
Peruvian labour trade—in other words, remorseless kidnappers. Smallpox
was also introduced by foreign ships, and, as in all new countries where
it breaks out for the first time, swept the isles like a consuming fire,
leaving to this day the trace of its awful ravages.
It broke out in the year 1863, and quickly spread throughout the group.
On the isle of Nukuheva it raged with frightful virulence, and carried
off a great multitude. José, a Peruvian convert who had found his way to
the Marquesas, and established himself as an evangelist, devoted himself
with untiring patience and zeal to the care of the sick, whose
panic-stricken friends forsook them, and left him alone to tend that
terrible company of miserable sufferers. Single-handed, he buried the
dead; but, thanks to his self-devotion, many recovered, and by his good
influence were won from their gross cannibalism and heathenism to the
faith he so nobly taught them by its practice. But just then the French
authorities sold all that district to Stewart & Co., a company of
English and French merchants, who converted it into cotton and coffee
plantations, and José was ordered to leave!
The new-comers took possession of lands wellnigh depopulated by the
terrible smallpox. Silence and desolation brooded over the rich and
beautiful valleys, where bread-fruit, cocoa-palms, guavas, papaws, and
all manner of tropical fruits ripened unheeded, for there were none to
gather them.
Thus where a few years ago the natives could be counted by thousands,
there are now only scattered villages, thinly peopled.
Happily the ravages of constant intertribal wars are held in check by
the presence of the French. In former days the Marquesans were fierce
cannibals, and the inhabitants of each lovely valley waged war to the
death against all other tribes.
The almost inaccessible mountain-ridges rise from the sea-level,
somewhat in the general form of a great star-fish, the space between the
arms being filled by verdant and most fertile valleys, where all manner
of fruit trees grow luxuriantly, and where the different tribes live,
each in its own territory, and well shielded by its natural position
from all incursions of its neighbours. For each valley is thus enclosed
by abrupt precipitous crags, several hundred feet in height, over which
leap cool sparkling rivulets, bringing abundant moisture to irrigate the
yam and _taro_ crops, the sugar-cane, cotton, and all the rich herbage
which flourishes beneath the dense foliage of bread-fruit and bananas.
Embowered in this green paradise are homes built of the yellow bamboo,
whose feathery foliage waves so gracefully in every direction. The
houses are thatched with palmetto-leaves, sun-bleached to a dazzling
whiteness. They resemble the Tahitian native houses, but are built on
oblong platforms of raised stones, such as those which form the
foundation of Fijian houses, and which are a necessary protection
against the damp of these isles, whose excessive verdure tells of a
heavy rainfall. The chief wealth of the people lies in their pigs, which
were introduced by the Spaniards, who consequently were venerated as
gods. Cats and rats are also foreign importations. The group has
literally no indigenous mammalia, and indeed very few birds.
In former years the women manufactured native cloth, as in the other
groups, but now a considerable amount of gay calico lends colour to
brighten the scene. Here, however, as in other countries, the French
prove themselves bad colonists. In most respects the Protectorate is
merely nominal, and nothing in the way of improvement flourishes.
As I before mentioned, the first attempt of the London Mission to
establish a footing here failed signally.
In 1797, two Englishmen—Messrs Crook and Harris—were sent out to try and
establish a footing in the Marquesas. Harris found his heart fail at the
dangers and horrors of the position, so he returned at once to Tahiti.
Mr Crook worked alone for a year, and then returned to England in search
of helpers. He does not seem to have resumed his dangerous post for some
years, and then merely visited the group. Meanwhile Tahitian converts
were sent out as teachers, but without much success, so they returned to
Tahiti. Others took up the work, and also failed to maintain their
ground.
In 1833, three American missionaries left the Sandwich Isles,
accompanied by their wives, and contrived to endure eight months in
Nukuheva, endeavouring to tame and Christianise its brutal savages; but
they also had to give up the attempt.
In 1834, a fresh party of English missionaries renewed the effort, and
struggled on till about 1840, when the London Mission finally abandoned
the field.
But in 1853, a Marquesan chief, Matanui, came to the Sandwich Isles in a
whale-ship, and requested that teachers should be sent to his people.
Thereupon Mr Bicknell, an Englishman, accompanied by four Hawaiian
teachers and their wives, agreed to return with him to his island,
Fatuhiva. Five days after they arrived, a French brig anchored there,
bringing a Catholic priest, who demanded that they should be at once
sent away, and declared that the Marquesas belonged to France, and that
no English teacher would be tolerated. This statement was at once denied
by the chiefs, who refused to dismiss their teachers, though they by no
means yielded implicit obedience to their lessons, or even treated them
with uniform kindness. Nevertheless the Hawaiian teachers have held
their ground, and though discouraged and oppressed, they have continued
to work silently but steadily, training native teachers from among their
converts, establishing boarding schools, whereby to separate their
scholars from evil influence at home, organising churches, and, in
short, doing all in their power to advance the good cause.
It was felt that a great step had been gained when the oppressive system
of _tabu_ had received its first blow by many of the high chiefs coming
to a feast at the mission, in company with their wives, as heretofore it
had been forbidden for father, mother, or grown-up child to eat one with
another—all had to feed apart; and the same senseless prohibitions
extended in endless ramifications through all actions of life. Now the
system of _tabu_ has fallen into neglect, and the Hawaiian Mission has
gained ground, notwithstanding much hindrance from the opposition and
interference of the Roman Catholic priests.
Nevertheless, to all intents and purposes, the majority of the people
are still savages, and the present mission of the Seignelay is to
inquire into recent cases of alleged cannibalism, said to have occurred
in the interior of Dominica, where the hill-tribes and fisher-tribes
still live at constant enmity. It is said to be the most fertile island
in the group, and to have the largest population.
The French governor is supported by sundry officials, and a detachment
of about sixty soldiers, a dozen _gens d’armes_, and a few native
police.[55]
The Catholic Mission consists of a bishop, with a considerable number of
priests, and a sisterhood like those on Tonga, Samoa, and Tahiti. The
priests work hard, but apparently with small result. It is whispered
that the presence of a large number of very irreligious white men has a
highly demoralising influence on the natives—as we can well understand;
and even the French Government, which took such a lively interest in the
introduction of Catholicism to Tahiti, seems to take none in the
progress of the mission in the Marquesas.
In the matter of stone and mortar a good deal has been done, well-built
churches having been erected in all the principal valleys, in the
proportion of one church to every 150 inhabitants. Unfortunately,
however, the people show small disposition to adopt any form of
Christianity. The queen Viakehu and a few of her household are devout
Catholics; and a little flock, who profess to be Christians, rally round
each of the missionaries, but the majority continue heathen, with a
deeply rooted belief in their old superstitions. I have just received a
photograph of one of the Marquesan stone idols, with two of its
worshippers. It is singularly hideous, and the head is crowned with a
circular capstone, resembling on a small scale the crowns of Easter
Island.
But if the Catholic Mission has hitherto failed in its ostensible work,
it has at least given the natives a good example of industry; for every
available inch of ground within reach of the mission is under most
careful cultivation, and is made to grow excellent cotton.
Though the Marquesans are too idle to do any sort of planting beyond
what is actually necessary for the cultivation of their gardens, the
example set by the mission has been followed by various settlers.
Foremost among these is Captain Hart, a man of great energy, who has
done much to advance the trading interest of the islands, and who on one
of his plantations employs forty Chinamen, and about sixty natives of
the Gilbert Islands—for here, as in all other places where white men
endeavour to cultivate the land, they find it necessary to employ
labourers imported from other isles, as they cannot extract the same
amount of work from men living on their native soil.
Hitherto only about a hundred Chinese, and as many Gilbert Islanders,
have been imported, and cotton is the only article grown expressly for
exportation. Of course where cocoa-palms are so abundant, a considerable
amount of _coppra_,[56] is to be obtained; but the natives have
unfortunately been instructed in the art of making palm-rum, and trees
which have been tapped for this purpose rarely recover their full
strength as nut-producers. Happily, in this matter, self-interest leads
the colonists to support the missionaries in their endeavours to
dissuade the people from thus misusing the palm-trees; but, on the other
hand, foreign traders are too ready to supply more fiery stimulants, and
drunkenness prevails to a grievous extent.
Nearly all these isles supply one indigenous article of commerce—namely,
a kind of fungus, which is much appreciated in China. It looks like
dried-up leather, but is not unpalatable when stewed or served in soup.
A considerable amount of this is obtained in most of the Marquesan
valleys.
Of colonists, properly so called, there are very few. About fifty white
men are scattered throughout the isles. Of these, some trade; others
cultivate the soil; while a few wander aimlessly from bay to bay, island
to island, living upon whatever the natives like to give them: they are
either too lazy to work, or too dishonest to find employment. These men
include waifs from all nationalities, including Scotch, English, Irish,
American, German, Spanish, and Portuguese. Although a French colony,
there are only three or four French subjects who can be classed as
colonists; but here, as elsewhere, the frugal and diligent Chinaman
seems likely to take firm root.
Nukuheva bay (where the Seignelay is probably now anchored) is described
as surpassingly lovely. It is a perfect harbour, with very deep water,
and forms a horse-shoe about nine miles in circumference, ending in two
lofty and abrupt headlands. The entrance is very narrow, barely half a
mile across, and is guarded on each side by small conical isles, rising
about 500 feet above the sea. All round the harbour the greenest of low
hills swell in gentle undulations, while behind these rise majestic
mountains, whence steep rocky ridges trend seaward, dividing the vast
amphitheatre into several distinct valleys, which, narrowing as they
ascend, become deep, romantic glens. Here and there snowy cascades,
gleaming through the rich verdure, tell where the precipitous crags
close in the valleys. Some of these barrier-cliffs rise perpendicularly,
to a height of perhaps 1500 feet. So rich is the growth of parasitical
plants, which cling to every crevice, that these mighty rugged crags
appear only to be green walls surmounted by black basaltic pinnacles and
cones, beyond which tower the blue peaks of some of the higher ridges,
which occupy the whole centre of the isle, rising to a height of about
4000 feet.
There are in these sheltered vales many old men who, in all their long
lives, have never set foot out of their own little boundary. Those
vine-clad cliffs have hemmed them in, and the mountain wilderness beyond
has offered no inducement to roving. No fruit, no game; only the
certainty of excessive toil for no reward, and the possibility of
wandering unintentionally within the territory of some other tribe, ever
on the watch to slay any imprudent straggler.
The lives of the women have been even more circumscribed, owing to an
extraordinary law of _tabu_, which prohibits a female from setting foot
in a canoe; consequently her farthest voyage is regulated by her powers
of swimming; and so, when a foreign vessel arrives in port, and the
Marquesan nymphs wish to inspect it more closely, they can only do so by
swimming. Small wonder if sailors, perceiving those fair-skinned
beauties, with their tresses of long black hair floating around them,
suppose their visitors to be a company of mermaids! From all accounts
many of these girls are really beautiful. In stature they are somewhat
diminutive, whereas the men average over six feet. As in Tahiti and
other tropical climates, the constitution ripens at a very early age, so
that mere children may be seen playing with their own babies instead of
dolls. Happily the responsibilities of housekeeping do not weigh heavily
in these isles, where nature is so generous, the climate so genial, and
food so abundant.
I am told that the bread-fruit tree in particular flourishes in the
Marquesas to an extent unknown elsewhere, and grows to an enormous
size—the ripe fruit, either freshly gathered or in its manufactured form
of _poi_, forming the staple food of the isles.
The Marquesans have the same love of flowers as their neighbours, and
the girls vie one with another in producing the loveliest garlands,
bracelets, and anklets, sometimes of blossoms and leaves intertwined,
but more often of single flowers, plucked from their calyx and strung
together on a thin fibre of _tappa_, while snowy buds take the place of
pearl ear-rings. The fragrant white blossoms of a large tree are those
most in favour.
But the permanent adornment is that of tattooing, which the Marquesans
have brought to greater perfection than any other South Sea Islanders,
except perhaps the Maoris of New Zealand, their very fair skin affording
a tempting parchment for the artist’s work. The patterns are quaint, and
very elaborately worked out in every conceivable variety of curve. Some
of the older men are thus decorated from head to foot. Even the face is
not spared, a favourite pattern being a strongly marked triangle, the
base sweeping across the lips from ear to ear, whence the other lines
ascend, crossing both eyelids, to meet on the shaven crown. Other men
prefer three broad stripes carried straight across the face,—one across
the eyes, a second across the nose, a third sweeping across the mouth
from ear to ear. A really well-tattooed man is a sort of walking volume
of illustrated natural history, so numerous may be the strange creatures
of earth, sea, and air, delineated on his much-enduring skin,—birds and
butterflies, fishes and crabs, lizards and snakes, octopi and star-fish,
flowers and fruits, all traced in delicate blue lines on a most silky,
olive-coloured surface. Those who go in for artistic unity of design
sometimes have the stem of some graceful tree traced along the spine,
while the spreading branches extend on either shoulder and droop down
the sides, and delicately traced vines twine spirally round arms and
legs, birds and insects appearing among the leaves.
I have been told that in one of the beautiful valleys lying farther
round the isle than Nukuheva harbour there are Cyclopean remains,
somewhat suggestive of the tombs of the Toui Tongas which we saw in the
Friendly Isles. Among the dense groves which clothe the base of the
mountain lie a series of vast terraces, each about a hundred yards long
by twenty wide, and disposed one above another on the mountain-side,
like gigantic steps. They are built of oblong blocks of stone, some of
which are fifteen feet long by five or six wide. Though perfectly
smooth, they bear no mark of any tool, and are laid without cement. Huge
trees have taken root in the crevices, and their interlacing boughs now
form a dense canopy above this monument of a forgotten race, concerning
which the Marquesans themselves have no tradition. So impenetrable is
the growth of vines in that green wilderness, that a stranger might pass
the spot—nay, actually cross the terraces by the native track—without
observing them. It is another of the mysteries of the stone age.
But, on a much smaller scale, there exist in the Marquesas _marais_
similar to those of Tahiti, which have been the temples and the tombs of
the present inhabitants ever since they knew their own history,—and even
these are sufficiently large to make one marvel how they could have been
erected by a race ignorant of all mechanical arts, and owning only such
rude stone implements. Beside the _marais_ there are a vast number of
very old stone foundations, similar to those on which the houses are
invariably raised, probably telling of a diminished population. The man
who, in the present day, wishes to build himself a bamboo house, can
therefore appropriate one of these ready-made foundations, and find the
hardest part of his house-building already accomplished.
I cannot learn that there is any trace of active volcanic agency now
existing in the Marquesas, though in some districts sulphur-springs and
mineral waters of various kinds have been found.
On the island of Hiva-oa (or Dominica), in the valley of Ta-oa, about
one mile and a half from the beach, and about 300 feet above the level
of the sea, there is a hole two inches in diameter, from which, when the
sea is rough, there rises a strongly sulphurous steam, accompanied by a
loud noise, like the steam-pipe of a steamer. When the water is smooth
there is only a slight noise and no steam, only a strong smell of
sulphur.
My attention has just been called to an exceedingly interesting letter
from the Rev. Titus Coan, which appeared ten years ago in a Hawaiian
paper. He had just returned to Honolulu after visiting the Marquesas in
the little mission-ship Morning Star. He speaks of the foreign
settlement at Taiohae or Nukuheva, as having been allowed to fall into
great disrepair. The jetty, the forts, the arsenal, the fine road
sweeping round the head of the bay—in fact, all the former works and
improvements of the French—are fast going to decay, and only a few
hundred natives, in place of the thousands of a few years earlier.
He was most courteously received by the French bishop, who gave him much
information about the people, and spoke hopefully of progress made on
the north-west isles of the group, though the pagan tribes on the
windward isles, especially on Dominica and Magdalena, were still wild
and defiant.
Mr Coan then visited the convent, where the French Sisters devote their
lives to the training of Marquesan girls. About sixty girls board in the
large airy house, their ages ranging from four to sixteen—happy,
healthy-looking girls, lovingly taught by gentle, highly educated French
ladies, and everything done to make their lives so cheery, that there
may be no hankering for heathen pleasures. Of these girls, Mr Coan
remarks that he has rarely seen more perfect specimens of physical
organisation, brighter faces, or more active minds, than among the
Marquesan children, many of whom are beautiful, bright, and blithesome.
A corresponding school for boys is established, under a French secular
teacher.
Though the settlement of Taiohae cannot be reckoned as very “go-ahead,”
it certainly sounds as if it might be a singularly attractive
resting-place—the houses smothered in luxuriant foliage, both indigenous
and exotic, ornamental and fruit-bearing; banyan, iron-wood, candle-nut,
hybiscus, palms, bread-fruit, orange, citron, lemon, guava, South Sea
chestnut, and ever so many other trees, all growing in richest beauty;
and every rock and pinnacle is carpeted with mosses and grasses, or
festooned with tropical vines. The precipitous crags all around are so
thickly clothed, that they suggest green velvet draperies striped with
lines of molten silver; these are merry cascades, falling from sources
3000 feet above the valley, and forming three large streams, which dash
among rocky boulders on their seaward way.
But Mr Coan seems to award the palm of beauty to the valley of Atuona on
Isle Hiva-oa. He says it is a broad, deep valley, umbrageous and
peaceful, and watered by a limpid, babbling stream. The trees are
magnificent, and the vines run riot in their luxuriance. The great
rampart of rocks rising in the background is the highest point of all
the islands, and it is usually wreathed with clouds. “The broken hills
form columns, spurs, pinnacles, coves, and sharp lateral ribs. Some are
round, some angular, some stratified, some laminated, some truncated,
some pointed. They lie in all positions—horizontal, tilted,
vertical—with heaps of scoria revealing their igneous origin. Rock is
piled on rock, hill upon hill, ridge upon ridge, mountain upon
mountain—serried, castellated, turreted, ... forming masses of confused
harmony, defying all the art of the limner, the pen-and-ink painter, and
the descriptive powers of man.”
Now I do hope you sympathise in my ever-increasing regret at having
missed my chance of visiting so marvellous a scene of beauty!
The climate, too, must be delightful. It is soft and balmy, and the
dense foliage affords such constant shade that even the rays of a
tropical sun can only trickle through in bright gleams, while the
cooling sea-breeze seems never to fail. Severe storms are rare, and
hurricanes unknown in the group. In short, the climate is equable, mild,
and wellnigh perfect.
The mission party sailed from one beautiful isle to another, to visit
the teachers already established, and to bring them fresh helpers. They
landed on Uahuna, which, like the other isles, is high, broken, and
precipitous. Their arrival was an unexpected joy to the good Laioha and
his wife Ewa, who had been settled here about a year previously, and
already had made a considerable impression on the people. Laioha blew a
loud blast on a horn; and its echoes, reaching the villages nestled
among precipices far up the valley, soon brought together about fifty
wild men and women—some of whom had already made considerable progress
in reading and writing.
At Paumau about a hundred people assembled under the trees, on the
beautiful shore. Many carried spears and war-clubs, whaling-spades or
shark-spears. Some had the head shaven all over; some in zones and
belts, vertical or horizontal; some on one side, some on the other; some
with a tuft of hair on the crown, some on the forehead, some on the
occiput, and some hanging over the right or the left ear. And thus it
was with the tattooing. The wildest taste and most fantastic and
capricious figures were displayed upon the face, arms, legs, and over
the whole body. Children are not tattooed; females but little,
consequently they look like another and a milder race of beings.
To this strange crowd Mr Coan and his friends endeavoured to explain
some of the simplest doctrines of Christianity. One old warrior, heavily
tattooed, and with closely shaven head, who carried a large green leaf
to shade his eyes, was witty and sceptical, and brought up many
objections to the new creed. But presently he confessed that it was
good, and bade Mr Coan speak also to his chief. The latter, on hearing
of a heaven in which there was neither fighting nor hunger, remarked
that “it would be a good place for cowards and lazy folk, who are afraid
to fight, and too indolent to climb cocoa-palms or bread-fruit trees.”
His repartees excited laughter in the crowd; but after a while, he, like
the old warrior, declared that it was good, and that he would forsake
heathenism.
Pressing the hand of his new white friend, he said, “_Kaoha oe_,”—“Love
to thee.” He became serious and earnest, and listened with fixed
interest to all the words then spoken; and the meeting only dispersed
when darkness overshadowed the land. A fine old lady of eighty, one of
the early converts (who at her baptism had added the name of Eve to her
own native name of Hipa-Hipa), was brought forward by her friends, and
clasping Mr Coan’s hands, placed them on her own silvery head, as she
welcomed him for his work’s sake.
The mission-ship next proceeded to Hakahekau, on Isle Uapou, to carry
needful supplies to the Rev. S. Kauwealoha, who has laboured for several
years among its beautiful valleys and wild cannibal inhabitants. He is
described as a man of great energy and activity, both physical and
intellectual, with a large and generous heart, ever ready to put head,
heart, and hand to any work which will help others, or advance the cause
of Christ. His talents are versatile. He can work in wood, iron, stone,
and mortar; can build a good house; construct, rig, row, and sail a
boat; or act as pilot in all the harbours of the group. He will work
bareheaded and barefooted, and can swim and dive in the surf like a
porpoise. He is very intelligent, speaks and reads English tolerably,
and, by getting hold of an occasional newspaper, he manages to keep up
with the current news of the age. As a missionary he is earnest in
prayer, energetic in preaching, and firm in principle, and foreigners
and natives alike respect him.
While the vessel was landing its stores, its passengers explored scenery
of indescribable loveliness. Passing through a valley rich with
luxuriant vegetation, they reached a point three miles in the interior,
where they commanded a general view of the sublime landscape. “Within a
vast amphitheatre of rugged hills, which send down their serrated spurs
to the shore, buttressed by bold and lofty precipices, are eight
remarkable cones, 200 to 300 feet high, and 50 to 100 feet in diameter,
standing as everlasting columns against the sky, giving to the whole the
character of a castellated fortress. The fantastic forms produced by the
force of ancient volcanic fires, by the abrading action of winds, rain,
and chemical agencies on these isles, are amazing.”
Passing on to Isle Futuiva, the vessel anchored in Hanavave Bay,
embowered in magnificent hills, with towering rocks like lofty minarets
guarding its entrance. Mr Coan says the scene was so grand as to be
almost overpowering. He rowed for some miles along the wonderful coast,
which he believes to be almost without an equal in nature. Rocky cliffs,
towering domes, and lofty precipices, rent, grooved, and fluted,
everywhere charmed the eye; and from these bold heights, sometimes of
2000 feet, silvery cascades leaped to the sea.
Here and there shaded dells opened along the rocky shore. Small valleys
filled with fruit-bearing trees, and murmuring with living waters,
appeared as if by enchantment. But all were desolate, for fierce bloody
war had slain the inhabitants, or driven them from these Edens of
beauty.
For the tribes of Hanavave Bay have waged ceaseless war with those of
Omoa, and the latter seem of late years to have had the best of it.
At Omoa (which is separated from Hanavave by dividing ridges of
inaccessible crags and precipices), the Hawaiian teachers assembled to
meet Mr Coan and his friends. The party consisted of the Rev. S.
Kauwealoha, the Rev. J. Kekela, the Rev. A. Kaukau, the Rev. T. W.
Kaiwi, the Rev. Z. Hapuku, and Mr T. W. Laioha. The names are
characteristic. So is the fact of the Rev. Z. Hapuku going out to meet
the ship, by diving through raging surf in which no boat could live,
that he might pilot the vessel to another bay, where the boats found a
landing-place on a smooth sand-beach; and the visitors were led to the
mission-house by an avenue, cut like a long tunnel, through the hybiscus
and cotton shrubs.
At Omoa a large proportion of the native converts had assembled for
church services. About seventy persons were present. In the morning a
new pastor was ordained to the work of the ministry. In the afternoon
seventeen adults and two children were baptised, and afterwards the Holy
Communion was administered to about forty communicants, nearly all of
whom had but a few years, or even months, previously, been reclaimed
from heathenism and wild cannibal orgies.
The schools of Omoa were examined on the following day, and about
seventy scholars were found under tuition, of whom fifty-four could
read, and many had made some progress in arithmetic and geography.
As if in special contrast to this meeting of the Christians, the heathen
Marquesans were engaged in some curious ceremonies, in honour of a
celebrated prophetess who had died six weeks previously. Her name was
Kauakamikihei. They had built a house for her, 12 feet wide by 24 long,
and 48 feet high. On the top of this house they placed a target of white
native cloth (there called _kapa_), and supposed to represent the moon.
At this the men fired their muskets, and shouts of triumph greeted the
lucky shots.
Afterwards a great company of tattooed savages rushed to the shore, with
wild shouts, carrying a sacred canoe, which was covered with a broad
flat frame of bamboo, on which was erected a small round house, covered
with mats. In this were placed a live pig, a dog, and a cock, also some
bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts, and a bowl of _poi_. The canoe was much
ornamented, and rigged with mast, and sail of _kapa_. With much shouting
it was launched, and pushed by bold swimmers through the roaring surf
into the open sea, where they left it and returned to shore. The canoe
drifted slowly out of the bay, but struck on the northern headland,
where it was in danger of being dashed to pieces on the rocks, when a
native ran round the harbour and once more shoved off the frail bark,
which sailed out to sea with its living freight. This ceremony was a
final offering to the god whom the dead prophetess or priestess had
served, and closed the season of _koina_ or _tabu_, which had lasted six
weeks, during which all manner of servile work or vain recreation were
alike forbidden.
From these frequent allusions to heavy surf breaking on the shore, you
may infer that the coral barrier-reef is wanting on most of the
Marquesan isles. The fact is, that in many cases, these volcanic crags
rise so precipitously, from so great a depth, that the diligent corals
have failed to gain a resting-place, and so the sea dashes on the shore
with unabated violence.
Strangely in contrast with these picturesque volcanic isles, is that
other group over which, also, I grieve as over a lost inheritance.
The Paumotus (_i.e._, cloud of islands)—or, as we used to call it, the
Low or Dangerous Archipelago—is a cluster of eighty very flat
coral-isles, most of which are of the nature of atolls, some shaped like
a horse-shoe, others so nearly circular that only small canoes can enter
the calm lagoon which occupies the centre; and some are perfect rings,
having no visible connection whatever with the ocean, which,
nevertheless, finds a subterranean passage through which the waters rush
in a strong current as the tides rise and fall. Such lagoons as these
are generally encircled by a belt of swamp, which can only be crossed by
laying down pathways of long branches; these act in the same way as huge
Canadian snowshoes, and enable the light-footed natives to pass in
safety across the treacherous green surface to the margin of the lake,
where they keep small canoes in which to paddle about in search of eels
and shrimps, and various kinds of fish. The water-supply is generally
deficient, and only by sinking wells in the coral-sand can even brackish
water be obtained. There are, however, exceptions to this rule, and some
isles have good springs. But at best, the people depend greatly on their
cocoa-nuts for drink even more than for food, and happily this supply
rarely fails them. The coral-bed supplies neither soil nor water
sufficient to raise any regular crops. Here and there a sort of caladium
with edible root grows wild, but yams or _taro_ are only known as
imported luxuries. Forest-trees and scrub, however, contrive to find a
living, and form a dense growth over most of the isles; and here and
there clumps of carefully cultivated bananas, orange-trees, or
bread-fruit, tell of a richer and deeper soil, probably accumulated with
patient toil. Fig-trees and limes also flourish.
Some of the lagoon-reefs have a diameter of about forty miles, and only
rise above the water in small isles, forming a dotted circle.
I believe it is generally supposed that such coral-rings as these have
in many cases been the encircling reef formed round some volcanic isle,
which has gradually subsided, whereas the reef-building corals have
continually risen higher and higher, so as to remain in the shallow
water, in which alone they can live, and thus in course of ages the
condition of things becomes reversed. The once fertile isle disappears
beneath the ocean, whereas the coral-reef, rising to just below
high-water mark, gradually accumulates shells and seaweeds; the sea
deposits drift of all sorts, and, little by little, a soil is formed
which becomes fertile, and presently cocoa-nuts drift from far-away
isles, and weeds of many sorts are carried by the birds, or float on the
currents, and so the isle becomes fertile—a ring instinct with life,
rising perpendicularly from the deep sea on the outer side, and very
often on the inner side also.
Where this is the case, and the inner lagoon appears as fathomless as
the outer sea, it is supposed that the atoll has been formed on the rim
of a sunken crater, colonies of living corals having settled on its
surface so soon as it subsided below high-water mark. This theory seems
the more probable, from the manner in which you find these circular
coral-isles densely clustered in certain localities, and none in other
groups, just as in some regions we find innumerable extinct craters
covering the whole surface of the land, and can readily imagine that
should such a district subside, each cup-like crater might soon be
covered with corals.
As in some craters the lava-flow has rent a gap near the summit whereby
to escape, and in other craters it has found for itself a subterranean
passage, leaving the upper crust unbroken, so in these atolls, some are
perfect rings, and the tides ebb and flow within the lagoons by
submarine channels, while others have an open passage, deep enough for a
ship to sail into the inner lake.
The principal island in the Paumotu group is that of Manga Reva, a
cluster of five isles, all within one encircling reef. The main isle is
a basaltic mass, rising 2000 feet above the sea-level. It is the most
fertile of the group, and is the headquarters of the French bishop and
his clergy. The Paumotus have a population of about 5000 persons, the
majority of whom are Roman Catholics. They are a fine independent race,
and in old days were accounted brave warriors.
Now a large number make their living by diving for the great pearl
shell-oysters, which are found in many of the lagoons at a depth of from
ten to twenty fathoms, attached to the coral-rock by a strong
byssus—_i.e._, a bunch of silky golden-brown filaments, which the diver
cuts with his knife, and so secures his prize. This silken cable is
attached to the muscle of the fish itself, and passes through an
aperture at the hinge. An expert diver can remain under water for about
three minutes. In some of the isles women are accounted the most skilful
divers, especially in deep water, where the largest shells are found,
some actually measuring eighteen inches across—such beautiful great
shields of gleaming mother-of-pearl.
The pearls themselves are not very abundant, and are generally found in
the less perfect shells, the inmates of which are either sickly or have
inadvertently admitted grains of coral-sand, which they have been unable
to eject. But sometimes the large healthy shells contain one beautiful
perfect pearl, not lodged in the muscle in the ordinary way, but lying
loose in the shell; and though it is certain that many are lost through
carelessness, a considerable number have taken high rank among the noted
pearls of the civilised world. I believe that those composing the
Empress Eugénie’s splendid necklace were collected in the Paumotus, and
that Queen Victoria’s pearl, which is valued at £6000, was also found
there. In heathen days all the best pearls were treasured in the idol
temples, and some of the early adventurers are known to have made a very
lucrative business by exchanging cheap muskets for bags of pearls. The
same disease or discomfort which produces these lovely gems often takes
a form less valued, but still very beautiful—large distorted pearly
lumps, often the size of two joints of the little finger, and assuming
all manner of quaint forms, sometimes resembling a human hand. I have
seen some which had been set as pins and brooches, which I thought very
attractive.
These, however, like the pearls themselves, are the accidental prizes of
the divers. The regular article of traffic is the shell itself, which
the traders buy from the natives at an average of £15 per ton, and sell
in London at an average of over £100. They calculate that by hiring
divers and working the beds themselves, the shell can be raised at less
than £6 per ton. In former years the annual harvest of Paumotu
pearl-shell was immensely in excess of the present supply, which is said
not to average above 200 tons—the natural result of allowing the beds no
time to recruit. Doubtless there are vast beds untouched, at lower
levels, where the divers do not care to venture; and it is supposed that
the outer face of the barrier-reef is probably one vast oyster-bed, but
the bravest divers dare not venture to attempt work beneath the awful
breakers.
Certain it is, that the colonies in the lagoons are annually replenished
by myriads of infant pearl-oysters, which have been spawned in the deep
sea, and which, in the months of December and March, may be seen
floating in with the rising tide; tiny glittering shells, a quarter or a
half inch in diameter, like fairy coins. Once in those calm waters, the
young oysters apparently have no wish again to seek the stormy outer
seas, for they are never seen floating out with the retiring tide. It
takes seven years for an oyster to attain maturity, so only those which
settle in deep water have a chance of reaching a ripe age.
Strange to say, these creatures, which appear to be so immovably
attached to their coral-rock, are proved to be migratory. Not only do
the closely packed young oysters detach their silken cables and move off
in search of more roomy quarters, but even the heavy grown-up shells
sometimes travel from one shelf in the coral to another, probably in
search of better feeding-grounds. They are singularly capricious in the
selection of their homes; in one lagoon they are abundant, and perhaps
in the very next not an oyster is to be found: and no attempt to raise
artificial beds, even by transporting masses of rock covered with young
shells, has ever succeeded, although the surroundings are apparently
identical in every respect. Of course they will not settle anywhere near
sand, which, by any disturbing cause, might enter their shells, and
cause them as much inconvenience as do the innumerable tiny red
crabs,—uninvited guests, which take up their quarters in the
oyster-shells, to the great aggravation of the helpless owners.
The lagoons in which these fisheries are carried on are indescribably
lovely: marine gardens, in which every detail of beauty is enhanced by
being seen through the clearest crystal waters, which lend a glamour as
of a magic glass to everything seen through them, whether sea-weed or
shell, zoophyte or coral, gliding snake or rainbow-coloured fish. Here
and there are patches of pure white coral-sand, which serve to reveal
the exquisite colour of the aqua-marine water; while the golden seaweeds
appear purple, and the corals seem to vary in hue, according to the
depth at which they lie beneath the surface. It is all illusion, for the
flowers of the sea are always disappointing when gathered. But there on
the coral-ledges lie the great oysters and many other shells, including
the huge clam, which is accounted excellent food. The pearl-oyster is
only eaten in times of scarcity, as it is very coarse and unpalatable,
though not unwholesome.
Diving for clams generally falls to the share of the women; and many a
one has met her doom from getting nipped by the ponderous dentated
shell, and so held prisoner in the depths, never to rise again. I heard
several horrible stories on this subject in Fiji, and here new ones are
added to the list. Quite recently a poor fellow fishing on one of the
Paumotu atolls dived to the bottom of the lagoon, feeling for
pearl-oysters, when he unluckily slipped the fingers of his left hand
into a gaping clam-shell, which instantly closed and held him as if in a
vice. The shell lay in a hole in the coral, so that it was impossible to
reach the byssus by which it was moored in that safe harbour; the
wretched man, in agony of mind and of body, severed his own fingers with
his knife, and rose to the surface, having indeed escaped drowning, but
being maimed for life. There have been other cases when a diver, thus
imprisoned, has with greater deliberation contrived to insert his knife
into the shell, and so force it open sufficiently to release his other
hand.
In gathering clams, the aim of the diver is to stab the gaping mollusc
with a sharp-pointed stake, and then with his knife cut the silky
filaments by which it adheres to the rock, after which he slips both
hands below the huge shell, and endeavours to raise it;—no easy matter,
considering what ponderous monsters many of the clams are—a single shell
making an admirable bath for a child, pure as white marble, and highly
polished by nature. In many Roman Catholic churches these large shells
are used for holy water. The smaller clams, such as are generally used
for food, are often picked up on the reef in basket-loads; and many a
careless child has playfully thrust its little fingers into a gaping
shell, an invasion promptly resented by the owner. Happily the scream of
agony generally brings some friends to the rescue: and strong as is the
armour of the poor besieged clam, it offers one weak point to the
enemy—namely, the cavity through which the byssus passes; a skilful stab
through this aperture causes the inmate to relax its hold, and so the
child is released—but many a finger is lost in this manner. The
multitude of these shell-fish annually consumed on all the isles is
something incredible, and the supply is apparently inexhaustible. It is
not generally known that these shells also occasionally yield very
valuable and lustrous pearls of peculiar brilliancy.
But the treasury of the sea, which lies safe beyond the reach of
covetous human beings, is that clean coral-sand which glimmers far below
the coral caves where the oysters congregate, and to which, for untold
ages, have dropped the pearls which fell from the gaping shell, when the
seven-year-old oyster, having lived his appointed time, melted away in
his native brine, and let go the treasures he could no longer clasp.
What a dream of delight, even in fancy, to gather up those
“Pale glistening pearls and rainbow-coloured shells,
Bright things that gleam unrecked of and in vain”!
I suppose the water-babies of these seas look upon pearls as we used to
look on John o’ Groats—probably with less reverence, as being so much
more common; and perhaps they are right, for the one was only a disease,
and the other a wondrously contrived little home.
One valuable creature which loves the white coral-sand as cordially as
the pearl-oyster dreads it, is the black _bêche-de-mer_,[57] a very
important item in the harvest of these seas, and one which affords a
living to a multitude of white men and brown. There are four different
sorts, of which the black is the largest. It resembles a gigantic leech,
and grows to a length of about thirty inches. It is a gregarious animal,
and is found in companies of brother-slugs wherever the water is
clearest and most perfect peace prevails. It is supposed to be blind,
and its movements are so slow as to be imperceptible. It has a red
cousin, which seems to enjoy tumult and noise as much as the black kind
loves calm. Its favourite home is on the outer edge of the coral-reef,
where the mighty breakers are for ever raging.
The _bêche-de-mer_ fishers have on the whole rather a pleasant sort of
gipsy life. Having chartered a small vessel, they engage a set of
natives, both men and women, to work with them for so many moons; and as
it is just the sort of occupation which comes natural to these men, they
generally have a cheery time of it. They anchor at some favourable spot,
probably a desert island, and build a cluster of palm-leaf huts for
themselves, another in which to smoke, and so cure the fish and slugs,
and to act as storehouse. However rude may be their own shelter, the
fish-houses must be made water-tight, lest the heavy rains should beat
through, and destroy the precious store.
The men carry with them a store of yams and cocoa-nuts, and trust to
their luck for a daily fish supply, which rarely, if ever, fails, and
has the charm of considerable variety, including most of the finny
tribes, turtles and their eggs, clams, cockles, and other
shell-fish—occasionally sea-birds’ eggs are added to the feast. Whatever
is caught is supposed to go to be handed over to the native overseer for
equal division, that none may hunger. So when the day’s work is done, a
delicious bathe is followed by a cheery supper, and then the men lie
round bright wood-fires, indulging in never-ending talk or songs, or
else dancing quaint savage _mékés_ in the moonlight.
Every morning they start at early dawn armed with long many-pronged
forks, to collect the treasures brought in by the tide. If the sea is
calm they go to the outer edge of the reef, in search of the red
_bêche-de-mer_, which love the sea-foam; but when the surf comes
thundering in with mad violence, then the fishers have a quiet day with
the black slugs; for these they must dive perhaps to a depth of twelve
fathoms.
As I once before mentioned to you, these creatures eject a fluid which
blisters the skin most painfully; so instead of carrying them in a
basket, it is customary for the fisher to have a miniature canoe which
he can drag over the reef by means of a rope, or float on the calm
lagoon, should he have occasion to dive; into this canoe he throws all
treasure-trove, and when it is full, empties it into one of the larger
boats. Noonday is the most favourable hour for the diver, as the sun’s
vertical rays then most clearly illumine the submarine depths where he
seeks his game.
When a fair supply has been secured, the fishers return to the
settlement. Sometimes they busy themselves on the way by cleaning the
slugs, which is done by cutting them open with a sharp knife, so as to
let the dangerous blistering fluid and intestines fall into the sea. But
the more cautious men defer this process till they reach the shore, when
they pop the live animals into a boiling caldron, and therein stir them
diligently for some minutes, after which they can clean them with
greater safety to themselves. They are then transferred to another
caldron and stewed for half an hour, after which they are taken to the
drying-house, whence they reappear like bits of dry leather, and require
to be soaked for several days previous to use.
It is necessary to cook the Holothuria as quickly as possible, because
so soon as they are dead they become a gelatinous mass like treacle,
with a very bad smell, and all adhere together, so that no use can be
made of them. So if caldrons are lacking, native ovens are at once
prepared: a hole is dug in the earth, and a fire kindled, whereby stones
are thoroughly heated, and on these the slugs are laid, and covered with
green leaves and old matting, and earth over all. Thus they are steamed
for an hour, till they are dried up and shrivelled, after which each is
stretched open with little bits of stick, and laid on the drying stages
in the smoking-house, over a fire of green wood, which produces a dense
smoke. This must be kept up for three days, after which this leathery
and uninviting delicacy is packed in palm-leaf baskets ready for the
China market. But it must from time to time be spread in the scorching
sun to dry it more thoroughly, as any lingering moisture will inevitably
reveal itself on the long journey, and the produce of many a month’s
hard labour has thus been rendered worthless.
I do not think that _bêche-de-mer_ soup ever finds much favour with
Europeans, but I have eaten it myself with much satisfaction, which is
far more than I can say for turtle in any form, as prepared in the
Pacific. Turtle-steaks sound well, but I cannot say they are nice. I
think they are generally cut from turtle which have been roasted whole
in native ovens. I believe the scientific cook invariably lays the
turtle on its back, that the precious green fat and oil may not be lost;
and the prudent housekeeper preserves the surplus of a feast-day, by
cutting up slices of turtle-steak, which she stores in cocoa-nut shells,
pouring in liquid fat, and tying a heated banana-leaf over the shell, in
lieu of hermetically sealing these potted meats. As a good large turtle
weighs fully 400 lb. (and some are occasionally captured weighing from
600 to 700 lb.), you can understand that a chief may very well allow
himself to store up a portion for the morrow, without depriving his
followers of their fair share.
But if turtle-meat is unpleasant, still more so, to my uneducated taste,
are turtle-eggs, several hundred of which are sometimes found inside a
large mother turtle. But they are generally discovered carefully buried
in the sand well above high-water mark. They are quite round and
leathery, resembling small white tennis-balls. In the breeding season,
the female turtle leaves her mate beyond the barrier-reef, and she comes
ashore, alone, at high tide, generally selecting the full moon. Having
chosen a suitable spot for her nest, she scratches a large hole in the
sand, in the middle of which she digs a funnel, two or three feet in
depth, and therein proceeds to lay about a hundred eggs, after which she
carefully covers them over with sand, and smooths away all trace of her
visit. Then she returns to the reef and there waits for the next high
tide, when she rejoins her mate. For some reason best known to herself,
she generally returns ashore either on the ninth or eighteenth night—a
fact well known to the natives, who scan the beach eagerly for the broad
track left on the smooth white sand by this midnight visitor.
When poor Mrs Turtle becomes aware of the presence of her natural foe,
man, she generally tries to hide, and will lie motionless for hours; but
should this hope prove vain, she makes for the sea at railway speed, her
flippers acting as paddles, by which she jerks herself along. Should her
foe outstrip her in the race, he contrives to turn her over, when she
lies on her back more helpless than even a fat sheep in the like
predicament.
I daresay that to all of you, in England, the accounts of these South
Sea groups sound so much alike, that you can scarcely sympathise with my
repining over the omission of a few. But each has its own distinctive
peculiarities, which you only realise by living in it for a while, and
making friends with its inhabitants.
Therefore I fear that these “lines left out” will remain to me a
lifelong regret. They have all the pain that attaches to “truth seen too
late,” which is the crown of woe.
I only hope that you will profit by my sad experience, and that should
you ever have a chance of seeing the Marquesas and the Paumotus, you
will not let it slip. But such luck as visiting a French colony in a
French man-of-war does not often present itself!