The sea—Longings for shore—A land-sick ship—Destination of the voyagers
CHAPTER II. TO THE MARQUESAS
Passage from the cruising ground to the Marquesas—Sleepy times aboard
ship—South Sea scenery—Land ho!—The French squadron discovered at
anchor in the bay of Nukuheva—Strange pilot—Escort of canoes—A flotilla
of cocoa-nuts—Swimming visitors—The _Dolly_ boarded by them—State of
affairs that ensue.
CHAPTER III. AFFAIRS ABOARD
State of affairs aboard the ship—Contents of her larder—Length of South
Seamen’s voyages—Account of a flying whale-man—Determination to leave
the vessel—The bay of Nukuheva—The Typees.
CHAPTER IV. LAST NIGHT ABOARD
Thoughts previous to attempting an escape—Toby, a fellow-sailor, agrees
to share the adventure—Last night aboard the ship.
CHAPTER V. THE ESCAPE
A specimen of nautical oratory—Criticisms of the sailors—The starboard
watch are given a holiday—The escape to the mountains.
CHAPTER VI. DISAPPOINTMENT
The other side of the mountain—Disappointment—Inventory of articles
brought from the ship—Division of the stock of bread—Appearance of the
interior of the island—A discovery—A ravine and waterfalls—A sleepless
night—Further discoveries—My illness—A Marquesan landscape.
CHAPTER VII. A WILD-GOOSE CHASE
The important question, Typee or Happar?—A wild-goose chase—My
sufferings—Disheartening situation—A night in the ravine—Morning
meal—Happy idea of Toby—Journey towards the valley.
CHAPTER VIII. INTO THE VALLEY
Perilous passage of the ravine—Descent into the valley.
CHAPTER IX. CAUTIOUS ADVANCE
The head of the valley—Cautious advance—A path—Fruit—Discovery of two
of the natives—Their singular conduct—Approach towards the inhabited
parts of the vale—Sensation produced by our appearance—Reception at the
house of one of the natives.
CHAPTER X. MORNING VISITORS
Midnight reflections—Morning visitors—A warrior in costume—A savage
Æsculapius—Practice of the healing art—Body-servant—A dwelling-house of
the valley described—Portraits of its inmates.
CHAPTER XI. ADVENTURE IN THE DARK
Officiousness of Kory-Kory—His devotion—A bath in the stream—Want of
refinement of the Typee damsels—Stroll with Mehevi—A Typee highway—The
Taboo groves—The hoolah hoolah ground—The Ti—Timeworn
savages—Hospitality of Mehevi—Midnight musings—Adventure in the
dark—Distinguished honours paid to the visitors—Strange procession, and
return to the house of Marheyo.
CHAPTER XII. ADVENTURE OF TOBY
Attempt to procure relief from Nukuheva—Perilous adventure of Toby in
the Happar Mountains—Eloquence of Kory-Kory.
CHAPTER XIII. A GREAT EVENT
A great event happens in the valley—The island telegraph—Something
befalls Toby—Fayaway displays a tender heart—Melancholy
reflections—Mysterious conduct of the islanders—Devotion of Kory-Kory—A
rural couch—A luxury—Kory-Kory strikes a light _à la_ Typee.
CHAPTER XIV. KINDNESS OF THE ISLANDERS
Kindness of Marheyo and the rest of the islanders—A full description of
the bread-fruit tree—Different modes of preparing the fruit.
CHAPTER XV. MELANCHOLY CONDITION
Melancholy condition—Occurrence at the Ti—Anecdote of Marheyo—Shaving
the head of a warrior.
CHAPTER XVI. IMPROVEMENT
Improvement in health and spirits—Felicity of the Typees—A skirmish in
the mountain with the warriors of Happar.
CHAPTER XVII. A STRANGER ARRIVES
Swimming in company with the girls of the valley—A canoe—Effects of the
taboo—A pleasure excursion on the pond—Beautiful freak of
Fayaway—Mantua-making—A stranger arrives in the valley—His mysterious
conduct—Native oratory—The interview—Its results—Departure of the
stranger.
CHAPTER XVIII. BATTLE OF THE POP-GUNS
Reflection after Marnoo’s departure—Battle of the pop-guns—Strange
conceit of Marheyo—Process of making tappa.
CHAPTER XIX. DANCES
History of a day as usually spent in the Typee valley—Dances of the
Marquesan girls.
CHAPTER XX. MONUMENTS
The spring of Arva Wai—Remarkable monumental remains—Some ideas with
regard to the history of the pi-pis found in the valley.
CHAPTER XXI. A FESTIVAL
Preparations for a grand festival in the valley—Strange doings in the
Taboo Groves—Monument of Calabashes—Gala costume of the Typee
damsels—Departure for the festival.
CHAPTER XXII. THE FEAST OF CALABASHES
The Feast of Calabashes.
CHAPTER XXIII. RELIGION OF THE TYPEES
Ideas suggested by the Feast of Calabashes—Effigy of a dead warrior—A
singular superstition—The priest Kolory and the god Moa Artua—Amazing
religious observance—A dilapidated shrine—Kory-Kory and the idol—An
inference.
CHAPTER XXIV. BEAUTY OF THE TYPEES
General information gathered at the festival—Personal beauty of the
Typees—Their superiority over the inhabitants of the other
islands—Diversity of complexion—A vegetable cosmetic and
ointment—Testimony of voyagers to the uncommon beauty of the
Marquesans—Few evidences of intercourse with civilized
beings—Dilapidated musket—Primitive simplicity of government—Regal
dignity of Mehevi.
CHAPTER XXV. MARRIAGE CUSTOMS
King Mehevi—Conduct of Marheyo and Mehevi in certain delicate
matters—Peculiar system of marriage—Number of
population—Uniformity—Embalming—Places of sepulture—Funeral obsequies
at Nukuheva—Number of inhabitants in Typee—Location of the
dwellings—Happiness enjoyed in the valley.
CHAPTER XXVI. SOCIAL CONDITIONS
The social condition and general character of the Typees.
CHAPTER XXVII. FISHING PARTIES
Fishing parties—Mode of distributing the fish—Midnight
banquet—Timekeeping tapers—Unceremonious style of eating the fish.
CHAPTER XXVIII. NATURAL HISTORY
Natural history of the valley—Golden lizards—Tameness of the
birds—Mosquitoes—Flies—Dogs—A solitary cat—The climate—The cocoa-nut
tree—Singular modes of climbing it—An agile young chief—Fearlessness of
the children—Too-too and the cocoa-nut tree—The birds of the valley.
CHAPTER XXIX. TATTOOING
A professor of the fine arts—His persecutions—Something about tattooing
and tabooing—Two anecdotes in illustration of the latter—A few thoughts
on the Typee dialect.
CHAPTER XXX. MUSIC
Strange custom of the islanders—Their chanting, and the peculiarity of
their voice—Rapture of the king at first hearing a song—A new dignity
conferred on the author—Musical instruments in the valley—Admiration of
the savages at beholding a pugilistic performance—Swimming
infant—Beautiful tresses of the girls—Ointment for the hair.
CHAPTER XXXI. CANNIBALISM
Apprehensions of evil—Frightful discovery—Some remarks on
cannibalism—Second battle with the Happars—Savage spectacle—Mysterious
feast—Subsequent disclosures.
CHAPTER XXXII. ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE
The stranger again arrives in the valley—Singular interview with
him—Attempt to escape—Failure—Melancholy situation—Sympathy of Marheyo.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ESCAPE
The escape
SEQUEL
NOTE.—The Author of “Typee” was more than two years in the South Seas,
after escaping from the valley, as recounted in the last chapter. Some
time after returning home the foregoing narrative was published, though
it was little thought at the time that this would be the means of
revealing the existence of Toby, who had long been given up for lost.
But so it proved. The story of his escape supplies a natural sequel to
the adventure, and as such it is now added to the volume. It was
related to the Author by Toby himself.
APPENDIX
ILLUSTRATIONS
Fayaway and I had a delightful little party on the lake
I found him ripe for the enterprise, and a very few words sufficed for a mutual understanding between us
At last we gained the top of the second elevation
We were soon completely encircled by a dense throng
The body was carried into the house and laid on a mat
Thus arrayed, I would have matched the charming Fayaway against any beauty in the world
Mehevi
About midnight I arose and drew the slide
TYPEE
CHAPTER I
The sea—Longings for shore—A land-sick ship—Destination of the
voyagers.
Six months at sea! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of
land; cruising after the sperm whale beneath the scorching sun of the
Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific—the sky
above, the sea around, and nothing else! Weeks and weeks ago our fresh
provisions were all exhausted. There is not a sweet potato left; not a
single yam. Those glorious bunches of bananas which once decorated our
stern and quarter-deck, have, alas, disappeared! and the delicious
oranges which hung suspended from our tops and stays—they, too, are
gone! Yes, they are all departed, and there is nothing left us but
salt-horse and sea-biscuit.
Oh! for a refreshing glimpse of one blade of grass—for a snuff at the
fragrance of a handful of the loamy earth! Is there nothing fresh
around us? Is there no green thing to be seen? Yes, the inside of our
bulwarks is painted green; but what a vile and sickly hue it is, as if
nothing bearing even the semblance of verdure could flourish this weary
way from land. Even the bark that once clung to the wood we use for
fuel has been gnawed off and devoured by the captain’s pig; and so long
ago, too, that the pig himself has in turn been devoured.
There is but one solitary tenant in the chicken-coop, once a gay and
dapper young cock, bearing him so bravely among the coy hens. But look
at him now; there he stands, moping all the day long on that
everlasting one leg of his. He turns with disgust from the mouldy corn
before him, and the brackish water in his little trough. He mourns no
doubt his lost companions, literally snatched from him one by one, and
never seen again. But his days of mourning will be few; for Mungo, our
black cook, told me yesterday that the word had at last gone forth, and
poor Pedro’s fate was sealed. His attenuated body will be laid out upon
the captain’s table next Sunday, and long before night will be buried,
with all the usual ceremonies, beneath that worthy individual’s vest.
Who would believe that there could be any one so cruel as to long for
the decapitation of the luckless Pedro; yet the sailors pray every
minute, selfish fellows, that the miserable fowl may be brought to his
end. They say the captain will never point the ship for the land so
long as he has in anticipation a mess of fresh meat. This unhappy bird
can alone furnish it; and when he is once devoured, the captain will
come to his senses. I wish thee no harm, Peter; but as thou art doomed,
sooner or later, to meet the fate of all thy race; and if putting a
period to thy existence is to be the signal for our deliverance,
why—truth to speak—I wish thy throat cut this very moment; for, oh! how
I wish to see the living earth again! The old ship herself longs to
look out upon the land from her hawseholes once more, as Jack Lewis
said right the other day when the captain found fault with his
steering.
“Why, d’ye see, Captain Vangs,” says bold Jack, “I’m as good a helmsman
as ever put hand to spoke; but none of us can steer the old lady now.
We can’t keep her full and bye, sir: watch her ever so close, she will
fall off; and then, sir, when I put the helm down so gently and try
like to coax her to the work, she won’t take it kindly, but will fall
round off again; and it’s all because she knows the land is under the
lee, sir, and she won’t go any more to windward.” Ay, and why should
she, Jack? didn’t every one of her stout timbers grow on shore, and
hasn’t she sensibilities as well as we?
Poor old ship! Her very looks denote her desires: how deplorable she
appears! The paint on her sides, burnt up by the scorching sun, is
puffed out and cracked. See the weeds she trails along with her, and
what an unsightly bunch of these horrid barnacles has formed about her
stern-piece; and every time she rises on a sea, she shows her copper
torn away or hanging in jagged strips.
Poor old ship! I say again: for six months she has been rolling and
pitching about, never for one moment at rest. But courage, old lass, I
hope to see thee soon within a biscuit’s toss of the merry land, riding
snugly at anchor in some green cove, and sheltered from the boisterous
winds.
“Hurrah, my lads! It’s a settled thing; next week we shape our course
to the Marquesas!” The Marquesas! What strange visions of outlandish
things does the very name spirit up! Lovely houris—cannibal
banquets—groves of cocoa-nuts—coral reefs—tattooed chiefs—and bamboo
temples; sunny valleys planted with bread-fruit trees—carved canoes
dancing on the flashing blue waters—savage woodlands guarded by
horrible idols—_heathenish rites and human sacrifices_.
Such were the strangely jumbled anticipations that haunted me during
our passage from the cruising ground. I felt an irresistible curiosity
to see those islands which the olden voyagers had so glowingly
described.
The group for which we were now steering (although among the earliest
of European discoveries in the South Seas, having been first visited in
the year 1595) still continues to be tenanted by beings as strange and
barbarous as ever. The missionaries, sent on a heavenly errand, had
sailed by their lovely shores, and had abandoned them to their idols of
wood and stone. How interesting the circumstances under which they were
discovered! In the watery path of Mendanna, cruising in quest of some
region of gold, these isles had sprung up like a scene of enchantment,
and for a moment the Spaniard believed his bright dream was realized.
In honour of the Marquess de Mendoza, then viceroy of Peru—under whose
auspices the navigator sailed—he bestowed upon them the name which
denoted the rank of his patron, and gave to the world, on his return, a
vague and magnificent account of their beauty. But these islands,
undisturbed for years, relapsed into their previous obscurity; and it
is only recently that anything has been known concerning them. Once in
the course of a half century, to be sure, some adventurous rover would
break in upon their peaceful repose, and, astonished at the unusual
scene, would be almost tempted to claim the merit of a new discovery.
Of this interesting group, but little account has ever been given, if
we except the slight mention made of them in the sketches of South Sea
voyages. Cook, in his repeated circumnavigations of the globe, barely
touched at their shores; and all that we know about them is from a few
general narratives.
Within the last few years, American and English vessels engaged in the
extensive whale fisheries of the Pacific have occasionally, when short
of provisions, put into the commodious harbour which there is in one of
the islands; but a fear of the natives, founded on the recollection of
the dreadful fate which many white men have received at their hands,
has deterred their crews from intermixing with the population
sufficiently to gain any insight into their peculiar customs and
manners. Indeed, there is no cluster of islands in the Pacific that has
been any length of time discovered, of which so little has hitherto
been known as the Marquesas, and it is a pleasing reflection that this
narrative of mine will do something towards withdrawing the veil from
regions so romantic and beautiful.