The escape.
Nearly three weeks had elapsed since the second visit of Marnoo, and it
must have been more than four months since I entered the valley, when
one day, about noon, and whilst everything was in profound silence,
Mow-Mow, the one-eyed chief, suddenly appeared at the door, and leaning
forward towards me as I lay directly facing him, said, in a low tone,
“Toby pemi ena,” (Toby has arrived here.) Gracious heaven! What a
tumult of emotions rushed upon me at this startling intelligence!
Insensible to the pain that had before distracted me, I leaped to my
feet, and called wildly to Kory-Kory, who was reposing by my side. The
startled islanders sprang from their mats; the news was quickly
communicated to them; and the next moment I was making my way to the Ti
on the back of Kory-Kory, and surrounded by the excited savages.
All that I could comprehend of the particulars which Mow-Mow rehearsed
to his auditors as we proceeded, was that my long-lost companion had
arrived in a boat which had just entered the bay. These tidings made me
most anxious to be carried at once to the sea, lest some untoward
circumstance should prevent our meeting; but to this they would not
consent, and continued their course towards the royal abode. As we
approached it, Mehevi and several chiefs showed themselves from the
piazza, and called upon us loudly to come to them.
As soon as we had approached, I endeavoured to make them understand
that I was going down to the sea to meet Toby. To this the king
objected, and motioned Kory-Kory to bring me into the house. It was in
vain to resist; and in a few moments I found myself within the Ti,
surrounded by a noisy group engaged in discussing the recent
intelligence. Toby’s name was frequently repeated, coupled with violent
exclamations of astonishment. It seemed as if they yet remained in
doubt with regard to the fact of his arrival, and at every fresh report
that was brought from the shore they betrayed the liveliest emotions.
Almost frenzied at being held in this state of suspense, I passionately
besought Mehevi to permit me to proceed. Whether my companion had
arrived or not, I felt a presentiment that my own fate was about to be
decided. Again and again I renewed my petition to Mehevi. He regarded
me with a fixed and serious eye, but at length, yielding to my
importunity, reluctantly granted my request.
Accompanied by some fifty of the natives, I now rapidly continued my
journey, every few moments being transferred from the back of one to
another, and urging my bearer forward all the while with earnest
entreaties. As I thus hurried forward, no doubt as to the truth of the
information I had received ever crossed my mind. I was alive only to
the one overwhelming idea, that a chance of deliverance was now
afforded me, if the jealous opposition of the savages could be
overcome.
Having been prohibited from approaching the sea during the whole of my
stay in the valley, I had always associated with it the idea of escape.
Toby, too,—if indeed he had ever voluntarily deserted me,—must have
effected his flight by the sea; and now that I was drawing near to it
myself, I indulged in hopes which I had never felt before. It was
evident that a boat had entered the bay, and I saw little reason to
doubt the truth of the report that it had brought my companion. Every
time, therefore, that we gained an elevation, I looked eagerly around,
hoping to behold him.
In the midst of an excited throng, who by their violent gestures and
wild cries appeared to be under the influence of some excitement as
strong as my own, I was now borne along at a rapid trot, frequently
stooping my head to avoid the branches which crossed the path, and
never ceasing to implore those who carried me to accelerate their
already swift pace.
In this manner we had proceeded about four or five miles, when we were
met by a party of some twenty islanders, between whom and those who
accompanied me ensued an animated conference. Impatient of the delay
occasioned by this interruption, I was beseeching the man who carried
me to proceed without his loitering companions, when Kory-Kory, running
to my side, informed me, in three fatal words, that the news had all
proved false—that Toby had not arrived—“Toby owlee permi.” Heaven only
knows how, in the state of mind and body I then was, I ever sustained
the agony which this intelligence caused me; not that the news was
altogether unexpected, but I had trusted that the fact might not have
been made known until we should have arrived upon the beach. As it was,
I at once foresaw the course the savages would pursue. They had only
yielded thus far to my entreaties, that I might give a joyful welcome
to my long-lost comrade; but now that it was known he had not arrived,
they would at once oblige me to turn back.
My anticipations were but too correct. In spite of the resistance I
made, they carried me into a house which was near the spot, and left me
upon the mats. Shortly afterwards, several of those who had accompanied
me from the Ti, detaching themselves from the others, proceeded in the
direction of the sea. Those who remained—among whom were Marheyo,
Mow-Mow, Kory-Kory, and Tinor—gathered about the dwelling, and appeared
to be awaiting their return.
This convinced me that strangers—perhaps some of my own countrymen—had
for some cause or other entered the bay. Distracted at the idea of
their vicinity, and reckless of the pain which I suffered, I heeded not
the assurances of the islanders that there were no boats at the beach,
but, starting to my feet, endeavoured to gain the door. Instantly the
passage was blocked up by several men, who commanded me to resume my
seat. The fierce looks of the irritated savages admonished me that I
could gain nothing by force, and that it was by entreaty alone that I
could hope to compass my object.
Guided by this consideration, I turned to Mow-Mow, the only chief
present, whom I had been much in the habit of seeing, and, carefully
concealing my real design, tried to make him comprehend that I still
believed Toby to have arrived on the shore, and besought him to allow
me to go forward to welcome him. To all his repeated assertions that my
companion had not been seen, I pretended to turn a deaf ear: while I
urged my solicitations with an eloquence of gesture which the one-eyed
chief appeared unable to resist. He seemed, indeed, to regard me as a
froward child, to whose wishes he had not the heart to oppose force,
and whom he must consequently humour. He spoke a few words to the
natives, who at once retreated from the door, and I immediately passed
out of the house.
Here I looked earnestly round for Kory-Kory; but that hitherto faithful
servitor was nowhere to be seen. Unwilling to linger even for a single
instant when every moment might be so important, I motioned to a
muscular fellow near me to take me upon his back: to my surprise he
angrily refused. I turned to another, but with a like result. A third
attempt was as unsuccessful, and I immediately perceived what had
induced Mow-Mow to grant my request, and why the other natives
conducted themselves in so strange a manner. It was evident that the
chief had only given me liberty to continue my progress towards the
sea, because he supposed that I was deprived of the means of reaching
it.
Convinced by this of their determination to retain me a captive, I
became desperate; and almost insensible to the pain which I suffered, I
seized a spear which was leaning against the projecting eaves of the
house, and, supporting myself with it, resumed the path that swept by
the dwelling. To my surprise, I was suffered to proceed alone, all the
natives remaining in front of the house, and engaging in earnest
conversation, which every moment became more loud and vehement; and, to
my unspeakable delight, I perceived that some difference of opinion had
arisen between them; that two parties, in short, were formed, and
consequently that, in their divided counsels, there was some chance of
my deliverance.
Before I had proceeded a hundred yards I was again surrounded by the
savages, who were still in all the heat of argument, and appeared every
moment as if they would come to blows. In the midst of this tumult old
Marheyo came to my side, and I shall never forget the benevolent
expression of his countenance. He placed his arm upon my shoulder, and
emphatically pronounced one expressive English word I had taught
him—“Home.” I at once understood what he meant, and eagerly expressed
my thanks to him. Fayaway and Kory-Kory were by his side, both weeping
violently; and it was not until the old man had twice repeated the
command that his son could bring himself to obey him, and take me again
upon his back. The one-eyed chief opposed his doing so, but he was
overruled, and, as it seemed to me, by some of his own party.
We proceeded onwards, and never shall I forget the ecstacy I felt when
I first heard the roar of the surf breaking upon the beach. Before
long, I saw the flashing billows themselves through the opening between
the trees. Oh! glorious sight and sound of ocean! with what rapture did
I hail you as familiar friends. By this time the shouts of the crowd
upon the beach were distinctly audible, and in the blended confusion of
sounds I almost fancied I could distinguish the voices of my own
countrymen.
When we reached the open space which lay between the groves and the
sea, the first object that met my view was an English whale-boat, lying
with her bow pointed from the shore, and only a few fathoms distant
from it. It was manned by five islanders, dressed in short tunics of
calico. My first impression was that they were in the very act of
pulling out from the bay; and that, after all my exertions, I had come
too late. My soul sunk within me: but a second glance convinced me that
the boat was only hanging off to keep out of the surf; and the next
moment I heard my own name shouted out by a voice from the midst of the
crowd.
Looking in the direction of the sound, I perceived, to my indescribable
joy, the tall figure of Karakoee, an Oahu Kannaka, who had often been
aboard the _Dolly_ while she lay in Nukuheva. He wore the green
shooting-jacket, with gilt buttons, which had been given to him by an
officer of the _Reine Blanche_—the French flag-ship—and in which I had
always seen him dressed. I now remembered the Kannaka had frequently
told me that his person was tabooed in all the valleys of the island,
and the sight of him at such a moment as this filled my heart with a
tumult of delight.
Karakoee stood near the edge of the water with a large roll of
cotton-cloth thrown over one arm, and holding two or three canvas bags
of powder, while with the other hand he grasped a musket, which he
appeared to be proffering to several of the chiefs around him. But they
turned with disgust from his offers, and seemed to be impatient at his
presence, with vehement gestures waving him off to his boat, and
commanding him to depart.
The Kannaka, however, still maintained his ground, and I at once
perceived that he was seeking to purchase my freedom. Animated by the
idea, I called upon him loudly to come to me; but he replied, in broken
English, that the islanders had threatened to pierce him with their
spears, if he stirred a foot towards me. At this time I was still
advancing, surrounded by a dense throng of the natives, several of whom
had their hands upon me, and more than one javelin was threateningly
pointed at me. Still I perceived clearly that many of those least
friendly towards me looked irresolute and anxious.
I was still some thirty yards from Karakoee, when my farther progress
was prevented by the natives, who compelled me to sit down upon the
ground, while they still retained their hold upon my arms. The din and
tumult now became tenfold, and I perceived that several of the priests
were on the spot, all of whom were evidently urging Mow-Mow and the
other chiefs to prevent my departure; and the detestable word—“Roo-ne!
Roo-ne!” which I had heard repeated a thousand times during the day,
was now shouted on every side of me. Still I saw that the Kannaka
continued his exertions in my favour—that he was boldly debating the
matter with the savages, and was striving to entice them by displaying
his cloth and powder, and snapping the lock of his musket. But all he
said or did appeared only to augment the clamours of those around him,
who seemed bent upon driving him into the sea.
When I remembered the extravagant value placed by these people upon the
articles which were offered to them in exchange for me, and which were
so indignantly rejected, I saw a new proof of the same fixed
determination of purpose they had all along manifested with regard to
me, and in despair, and reckless of consequences, I exerted all my
strength, and, shaking myself free from the grasp of those who held me,
I sprang upon my feet and rushed towards Karakoee.
The rash attempt nearly decided my fate; for, fearful that I might slip
from them, several of the islanders now raised a simultaneous shout,
and pressing upon Karakoee, they menaced him with furious gestures, and
actually forced him into the sea. Appalled at their violence, the poor
fellow, standing nearly to the waist in the surf, endeavoured to pacify
them; but at length, fearful that they would do him some fatal
violence, he beckoned to his comrades to pull in at once, and take him
into the boat.
It was at this agonizing moment, when I thought all hope was ended,
that a new contest arose between the two parties, who had accompanied
me to the shore; blows were struck, wounds were given, and blood
flowed. In the interest excited by the fray, every one had left me
except Marheyo, Kory-Kory, and poor dear Fayaway, who clung to me,
sobbing convulsively. I saw that now or never was the moment. Clasping
my hands together, I looked imploringly at Marheyo, and moved towards
the now almost deserted beach. The tears were in the old man’s eyes,
but neither he nor Kory-Kory attempted to hold me, and I soon reached
the Kannaka, who had anxiously watched my movements; the rowers pulled
in as near as they dared to the edge of the surf; I gave one parting
embrace to Fayaway, who seemed speechless with sorrow, and the next
instant I found myself safe in the boat, and Karakoee by my side, who
told the rowers at once to give way. Marheyo and Kory-Kory, and a great
many of the women, followed me into the water, and I was determined, as
the only mark of gratitude I could show, to give them the articles
which had been brought as my ransom. I handed the musket to Kory-Kory,
in doing which he would fain have taken hold of me, threw the roll of
cotton to old Marheyo, pointing as I did so to poor Fayaway, who had
retired from the edge of the water, and was sitting down disconsolate
on the beach, and tumbled the powder-bags out to the nearest young
ladies, all of whom were vastly willing to take them. This distribution
did not occupy ten seconds, and before it was over the boat was under
full way, the Kannaka all the while exclaiming loudly against what he
considered a useless throwing away of valuable property.
Although it was clear that my movements had been noticed by several of
the natives, still they had not suspended the conflict in which they
were engaged, and it was not until the boat was above fifty yards from
the shore, that Mow-Mow and some six or seven other warriors rushed
into the sea and hurled their javelins at us. Some of the weapons
passed quite as close to us as was desirable, but no one was wounded,
and the men pulled away gallantly. But although soon out of the reach
of the spears, our progress was extremely slow; it blew strong upon the
shore, and the tide was against us; and I saw Karakoee, who was
steering the boat, give many a look towards a jutting point of the bay
round which we had to pass.
For a minute or two after our departure, the savages, who had formed
into different groups, remained perfectly motionless and silent. All at
once the enraged chief showed by his gestures that he had resolved what
course he would take. Shouting loudly to his companions, and pointing
with his tomahawk towards the headland, he set off at full speed in
that direction, and was followed by about thirty of the natives, among
whom were several of the priests, all yelling out, “Roo-ne! Roo-ne!” at
the very top of their voices. Their intention was evidently to swim off
from the headland and intercept us in our course. The wind was
freshening every minute, and was right in our teeth, and it was one of
those chopping, angry seas, in which it is so difficult to row. Still
the chances seemed in our favour, but when we came within a hundred
yards of the point, the active savages were already dashing into the
water, and we all feared that within five minutes’ time we should have
a score of the infuriated wretches around us. If so our doom was
sealed, for these savages, unlike the feeble swimmers of civilized
countries, are, if anything, more formidable antagonists in the water
than when on the land. It was all a trial of strength; our natives
pulled till their oars bent again, and the crowd of swimmers shot
through the water, despite its roughness, with fearful rapidity.
By the time we had reached the headland, the savages were spread right
across our course. Our rowers got out their knives and held them ready
between their teeth, and I seized the boat-hook. We were all aware that
if they succeeded in intercepting us, they would practise upon us the
manœuvre which proved so fatal to many a boat’s crew in these seas.
They would grapple the oars, and, seizing hold of the gunwale, capsize
the boat, and then we should be entirely at their mercy.
After a few breathless moments I discerned Mow-Mow. The athletic
islander, with his tomahawk between his teeth, was dashing the water
before him till it foamed again. He was the nearest to us, and in
another instant he would have seized one of the oars. Even at the
moment I felt horror at the act I was about to commit; but it was no
time for pity or compunction, and with true aim, and exerting all my
strength, I dashed the boat-hook at him. It struck him just below the
throat, and forced him downwards. I had no time to repeat the blow, but
I saw him rise to the surface in the wake of the boat, and never shall
I forget the ferocious expression of his countenance.
Only one other of the savages reached the boat. He seized the gunwale,
but the knives of our rowers so mauled his wrists that he was forced to
quit his hold, and the next minute we were past them all, and in
safety. The strong excitement which had thus far kept me up, now left
me, and I fell back fainting into the arms of Karakoee.
The circumstances connected with my most unexpected escape may be very
briefly stated. The captain of an Australian vessel being in distress
for men in these remote seas, had put into Nukuheva in order to recruit
his ship’s company, but not a single man was to be obtained; and the
barque was about to get under weigh, when she was boarded by Karakoee,
who informed the disappointed Englishman that an American sailor was
detained by the savages in the neighbouring bay of Typee; and he
offered, if supplied with suitable articles of traffic, to undertake
his release. The Kannaka had gained his intelligence from Marnoo, to
whom, after all, I was indebted for my escape. The proposition was
acceded to; and Karakoee, taking with him five tabooed natives of
Nukuheva, again repaired aboard the barque, which in a few hours sailed
to that part of the island, and threw her main-top-sail aback right off
the entrance to the Typee bay. The whale-boat, manned by the tabooed
crew, pulled towards the head of the inlet, while the ship lay “off and
on” awaiting its return.
The events which ensued have already been detailed, and little more
remains to be related. On reaching the _Julia_, I was lifted over the
side, and my strange appearance, and remarkable adventure, occasioned
the liveliest interest. Every attention was bestowed upon me that
humanity could suggest; but to such a state was I reduced, that three
months elapsed before I recovered my health.
The mystery which hung over the fate of my friend and companion, Toby,
has never been cleared up. I still remain ignorant whether he succeeded
in leaving the valley, or perished at the hands of the islanders.
SEQUEL
CONTAINING
THE STORY OF TOBY
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.
The morning my comrade left me, as related in the narrative, he was
accompanied by a large party of the natives, some of them carrying
fruit and hogs for the purposes of traffic, as the report had spread
that boats had touched at the bay.
As they proceeded through the settled parts of the valley, numbers
joined them from every side, running with animated cries from every
pathway. So excited were the whole party, that, eager as Toby was to
gain the beach, it was almost as much as he could do to keep up with
them. Making the valley ring with their shouts, they hurried along on a
swift trot, those in advance pausing now and then, and flourishing
their weapons to urge the rest forward.
Presently they came to a place where the path crossed a bend of the
main stream of the valley. Here a strange sound came through the grove
beyond, and the islanders halted. It was Mow-Mow, the one-eyed chief,
who had gone on before; he was striking his heavy lance against the
hollow bough of a tree.
This was a signal of alarm;—for nothing was now heard but shouts of
“Happar! Happar!”—the warriors tilting with their spears and
brandishing them in the air, and the women and boys shouting to each
other, and picking up the stones in the bed of the stream. In a moment
or two Mow-Mow and two or three other chiefs ran out from the grove,
and the din increased tenfold.
Now, thought Toby, for a fray; and being unarmed, he besought one of
the young men domiciled with Marheyo for the loan of his spear. But he
was refused; the youth roguishly telling him, that the weapon was very
good for him (the Typee), but that a white man could fight much better
with his fists.
The merry humour of this young wag seemed to be shared by the rest, for
in spite of their warlike cries and gestures, everybody was capering
about and laughing, as if it was one of the funniest things in the
world to be awaiting the flight of a score or two of Happar javelins
from an ambush in the thickets.
While my comrade was in vain trying to make out the meaning of all
this, a good number of the natives separated themselves from the rest
and ran off into the grove on one side, the others now keeping
perfectly still, as if awaiting the result. After a little while,
however, Mow-Mow, who stood in advance, motioned them to come on
stealthily, which they did, scarcely rustling a leaf. Thus they crept
along for ten or fifteen minutes, every now and then pausing to listen.
Toby by no means relished this sort of skulking; if there was going to
be a fight he wanted it to begin at once. But all in good time,—for
just then, as they went prowling into the thickest of the wood,
terrific howls burst upon them on all sides, and volleys of darts and
stones flew across the path. Not an enemy was to be seen, and what was
still more surprising, not a single man dropped, though the pebbles
fell among the leaves like hail.
There was a moment’s pause, when the Typees, with wild shrieks, flung
themselves into the covert, spear in hand; nor was Toby behind-hand.
Coming so near getting his skull broken by the stones, and animated by
an old grudge he bore the Happars, he was among the first to dash at
them. As he broke his way through the underbush, trying, as he did so,
to wrest a spear from a young chief, the shouts of battle all of a
sudden ceased, and the wood was as still as death. The next moment, the
party who had left them so mysteriously rushed out from behind every
bush and tree, and united with the rest in long and merry peals of
laughter.
It was all a sham, and Toby, who was quite out of breath with
excitement, was much incensed at being made a fool of.
It afterwards turned out that the whole affair had been concerted for
his particular benefit, though with what precise view it would be hard
to tell. My comrade was the more enraged at this boy’s play, since it
had consumed so much time, every moment of which might be precious.
Perhaps, however, it was partly intended for this very purpose; and he
was led to think so, because, when the natives started again, he
observed that they did not seem to be in so great a hurry as before. At
last, after they had gone some distance, Toby, thinking all the while
that they never would get to the sea, two men came running towards
them, and a regular halt ensued, followed by a noisy discussion, during
which Toby’s name was often repeated. All this made him more and more
anxious to learn what was going on at the beach; but it was in vain
that he now tried to push forward; the natives held him back.
In a few moments the conference ended, and many of them ran down the
path in the direction of the water, the rest surrounding Toby, and
entreating him to “Moee,” or sit down and rest himself. As an
additional inducement, several calabashes of food, which had been
brought along, were now placed on the ground, and opened, and pipes
also were lighted. Toby bridled his impatience awhile, but at last
sprang to his feet and dashed forward again. He was soon overtaken
nevertheless, and again surrounded, but without further detention was
then permitted to go down to the sea.
They came out on a bright green space between the groves and the water,
and close under the shadow of the Happar mountain, where a path was
seen, winding out of sight through a gorge.
No sign of a boat, however, was beheld; nothing but a tumultuous crowd
of men and women, and some one in their midst, earnestly talking to
them. As my comrade advanced, this person came forward, and proved to
be no stranger. He was an old grizzled sailor, whom Toby and myself had
frequently seen in Nukuheva, where he lived an easy, devil-may-care
life, in the household of Mowanna the king, going by the name of
“Jimmy.” In fact, he was the royal favourite, and had a good deal to
say in his master’s councils. He wore a Manilla hat, and a sort of
tappa morning gown, sufficiently loose and negligent to show the verse
of a song tattooed upon his chest, and a variety of spirited cuts by
native artists in other parts of his body. He sported a fishing-rod in
his hand, and carried a sooty old pipe slung about his neck.
This old rover having retired from active life, had resided in Nukuheva
some time—he could speak the language, and for that reason was
frequently employed by the French as an interpreter. He was an arrant
old gossip, too; for ever coming off in his canoe to the ships in the
bay, and regaling their crews with choice little morsels of court
scandal—such, for instance, as a shameful intrigue of his majesty with
a Happar damsel, a public dancer at the feasts—and otherwise relating
some incredible tales about the Marquesas generally. I remember, in
particular, his telling the _Dolly’s_ crew what proved to be literally
a cock-and-bull story, about two natural prodigies, which he said were
then on the island. One was an old monster of a hermit, having a
marvellous reputation for sanctity, and reputed a famous sorcerer, who
lived away off in a den among the mountains, where he hid from the
world a great pair of horns that grew out of his temples.
Notwithstanding his reputation for piety, his horrid old fellow was the
terror of all the island round, being reported to come out from his
retreat, and go a man-hunting every dark night. Some anonymous Paul
Pry, too, coming down the mountain, once got a peep at his den, and
found it full of bones. In short, he was a most unheard-of monster.
The other prodigy Jimmy told us about, was the younger son of a chief,
who, although but just turned of ten, had entered upon holy orders,
because his superstitious countrymen thought him especially intended
for the priesthood, from the fact of his having a comb on his head like
a rooster. But this was not all: for, still more wonderful to relate,
the boy prided himself upon this strange crest, being actually endowed
with a cock’s voice, and frequently crowing over his peculiarity.
But to return to Toby. The moment he saw the old rover on the beach, he
ran up to him, the natives following after, and forming a circle round
them.
After welcoming him to the shore, Jimmy went on to tell him how that he
knew all about our having run away from the ship, and being among the
Typees, indeed, he had been urged by Mowanna to come over to the
valley, and, after visiting his friends there, to bring us back with
him, his royal master being exceedingly anxious to share with him the
reward which had been held out for our capture. He, however, assured
Toby that he had indignantly spurned the offer.
All this astonished my comrade not a little, as neither of us had
entertained the least idea that any white man ever visited the Typees
sociably. But Jimmy told him that such was the case, nevertheless,
although he seldom came into the bay, and scarcely ever went back from
the beach. One of the priests of the valley, in some way or other
connected with an old tattooed divine in Nukuheva, was a friend of his,
and through him he was “taboo.”
He said, moreover, that he was sometimes employed to come round to the
bay, and engage fruit for ships lying in Nukuheva. In fact, he was now
on that very errand, according to his own account, having just come
across the mountains by the way of Happar. By noon of the next day, the
fruit would be heaped up in stacks on the beach, in readiness for the
boats, which he then intended to bring into the bay.
Jimmy now asked Toby whether he wished to leave the island—if he did,
there was a ship in want of men, lying in the other harbour, and he
would be glad to take him over, and see him on board that very day.
“No,” said Toby; “I cannot leave the island, unless my comrade goes
with me. I left him up the valley because they would not let him come
down. Let us go now and fetch him.”
“But how is he to cross the mountain with us,” replied Jimmy, “even if
we get him down to the beach? Better let him stay till to-morrow, and I
will bring him round to Nukuheva in the boats.”
“That will never do,” said Toby; “but come along with me now, and let
us get him down here at any rate”; and yielding to the impulse of the
moment, he started to hurry back into the valley. But hardly was his
back turned, when a dozen hands were laid on him, and he learned that
he could not go a step farther.
It was in vain that he fought with them: they would not hear of his
stirring from the beach. Cut to the heart at this unexpected repulse,
Toby now conjured the sailor to go after me alone. But Jimmy replied,
that in the mood the Typees then were, they would not permit him to do
so, though, at the same time, he was not afraid of their offering him
any harm.
Little did Toby then think, as he afterwards had good reason to
suspect, that this very Jimmy was a heartless villain, who, by his
arts, had just incited the natives to restrain him, as he was in the
act of going after me. Well must the old sailor have known, too, that
the natives would never consent to our leaving together; and he
therefore wanted to get Toby off alone, for a purpose which he
afterwards made plain. Of all this, however, my comrade now knew
nothing.
He was still struggling with the islanders, when Jimmy again came up to
him, and warned him against irritating them, saying that he was only
making matters worse for both of us, and if they became enraged, there
was no telling what might happen. At last he made Toby sit down on a
broken canoe, by a pile of stones, upon which was a ruinous little
shrine, supported by four upright paddles, and in front partly screened
by a net. The fishing parties met there, when they came in from the
sea, for their offerings were laid before an image, upon a smooth black
stone within. This spot, Jimmy said, was strictly “taboo,” and no one
would molest or come near him while he stayed by its shadow. The old
sailor then went off, and began speaking very earnestly to Mow-Mow and
some other chiefs, while all the rest formed a circle round the taboo
place, looking intently at Toby, and talking to each other without
ceasing.
Now, notwithstanding what Jimmy had just told him, there presently came
up to my comrade an old woman, who seated herself beside him on the
canoe.
“Typee Mortarkee?” said she. “Mortarkee muee,” said Toby.
She then asked whether he was going to Nukuheva; he nodded yes; and
with a plaintive wail, her eyes filling with tears, she rose and left
him.
This old woman, the sailor afterwards said, was the wife of an aged
king of a small inland valley, communicating by a deep pass with the
country of the Typees. The inmates of the two valleys were related to
each other by blood, and were known by the same name. The old woman had
gone down into the Typee valley the day before, and was now, with three
chiefs, her sons, on a visit to her kinsmen.
As the old king’s wife left him, Jimmy again came up to Toby, and told
him that he had just talked the whole matter over with the natives, and
there was only one course for him to follow. They would not allow him
to go back into the valley, and harm would certainly come to both him
and me, if he remained much longer on the beach. “So,” said he, “you
and I had better go to Nukuheva now overland, and to-morrow I will
bring Tommo, as they call him, by water; they have promised to carry
him down to the sea for me early in the morning, so that there will be
no delay.”
“No, no,” said Toby desperately, “I will not leave him that way; we
must escape together.”
“Then there is no hope for you,” exclaimed the sailor, “for if I leave
you here on the beach, as soon as I am gone you will be carried back
into the valley, and then neither of you will ever look upon the sea
again.” And with many oaths he swore that if he would only go to
Nukuheva with him that day, he would be sure to have me there the very
next morning.
“But how do you know they will bring him down to the beach to-morrow,
when they will not do so to-day?” said Toby. But the sailor had many
reasons, all of which were so mixed up with the mysterious customs of
the islanders, that he was none the wiser. Indeed, their conduct,
especially in preventing him from returning into the valley, was
absolutely unaccountable to him; and added to everything else was the
bitter reflection, that the old sailor, after all, might possibly be
deceiving him. And then again he had to think of me, left alone with
the natives, and by no means well. If he went with Jimmy, he might at
least hope to procure some relief for me. But might not the savages who
had acted so strangely, hurry me off somewhere before his return? Then,
even if he remained, perhaps they would not let him go back to the
valley where I was.
Thus perplexed was my poor comrade; he knew not what to do, and his
courageous spirit was of no use to him now. There he was, all by
himself, seated upon the broken canoe—the natives grouped around him at
a distance, and eyeing him more and more fixedly.
“It is getting late,” said Jimmy, who was standing behind the rest.
“Nukuheva is far off, and I cannot cross the Happar country by night.
You see how it is:—if you come along with me, all will be well; if you
do not, depend upon it neither of you will ever escape.”
“There is no help for it,” said Toby, at last, with a heavy heart, “I
will have to trust you”; and he came out from the shadow of the little
shrine, and cast a long look up the valley.
“Now keep close to my side,” said the sailor, “and let us be moving
quickly.” Tinor and Fayaway here appeared; the kind-hearted old woman
embracing Toby’s knees, and giving way to a flood of tears; while
Fayaway, hardly less moved, spoke some few words of English she had
learned, and held up three fingers before him—in so many days he would
return.
At last Jimmy pulled Toby out of the crowd, and after calling to a
young Typee who was standing by with a young pig in his arms, all three
started for the mountains.
“I have told them that you are coming back again,” said the old fellow,
laughing, as they began the ascent, “but they’ll have to wait a long
time.” Toby turned, and saw the natives all in motion—the girls waving
their tappas in adieu, and the men their spears. As the last figure
entered the grove with one arm raised, and the three fingers spread,
his heart smote him.
As the natives had at last consented to his going, it might have been,
that some of them, at least, really counted upon his speedy return;
probably supposing, as indeed he had told them when they were coming
down the valley, that his only object in leaving them was to procure
the medicines I needed. This, Jimmy also must have told them. And as
they had done before, when my comrade, to oblige me, started on his
perilous journey to Nukuheva, they looked upon me, in his absence, as
one of two inseparable friends who was a sure guarantee for the other’s
return. This is only my own supposition, however, for as to all their
strange conduct, it is still a mystery.
“You see what sort of a taboo man I am,” said the sailor, after for
some time silently following the path which led up the mountain.
“Mow-Mow made me a present of this pig here, and the man who carries it
will go right through Happar, and down into Nukuheva with us. So long
as he stays by me he is safe, and just so it will be with you, and
to-morrow with Tommo. Cheer up, then, and rely upon me, you will see
him in the morning.”
The ascent of the mountain was not very difficult, owing to its being
near to the sea, where the island ridges are comparatively low; the
path, too, was a fine one, so that in a short time all three were
standing on the summit with the two valleys at their feet. The white
cascades marking the green head of the Typee valley first caught Toby’s
eye; Marheyo’s house could easily be traced by them.
As Jimmy led the way along the ridge, Toby observed that the valley of
the Happars did not extend near so far inland as that of the Typees.
This accounted for our mistake in entering the latter valley as we had.
A path leading down from the mountain was soon seen, and, following it,
the party were in a short time fairly in the Happar valley.
“Now,” said Jimmy, as they hurried on, “we taboo men have wives in all
the bays, and I am going to show you the two I have here.”
So, when they came to the house where he said they lived—which was
close by the base of the mountain, in a shady nook among the groves,—he
went in, and was quite furious at finding it empty—the ladies had gone
out. However, they soon made their appearance, and, to tell the truth,
welcomed Jimmy quite cordially, as well as Toby, about whom they were
very inquisitive. Nevertheless, as the report of their arrival spread,
and the Happars began to assemble, it became evident that the
appearance of a white stranger among them was not by any means deemed
so wonderful an event as in the neighbouring valley.
The old sailor bade his wives prepare something to eat, as he must be
in Nukuheva before dark. A meal of fish, bread-fruit, and bananas, was
accordingly served up, the party regaling themselves on the mats, in
the midst of a numerous company.
The Happars put many questions to Jimmy about Toby; and Toby himself
looked sharply at them, anxious to recognise the fellow who gave him
the wound from which he was still suffering. But this fiery gentleman,
so handy with his spear, had the delicacy, it seemed, to keep out of
view. Certainly the sight of him would not have been any added
inducement to making him stay in the valley,—some of the afternoon
loungers in Happar having politely urged Toby to spend a few days with
them,—there was a feast coming on. He, however, declined.
All this while the young Typee stuck to Jimmy like his shadow, and
though as lively a dog as any of his tribe, he was now as meek as a
lamb, never opening his mouth except to eat. Although some of the
Happars looked queerly at him, others were more civil, and seemed
desirous of taking him abroad and showing him the valley. But the Typee
was not to be cajoled in that way. How many yards he would have to
remove from Jimmy before the taboo would be powerless, it would be hard
to tell, but probably he himself knew to a fraction.
On the promise of a red cotton handkerchief, and something else which
he kept secret, this poor fellow had undertaken a rather ticklish
journey, though, as far as Toby could ascertain, it was something that
had never happened before.
The island-punch—arva—was brought in at the conclusion of the repast,
and passed round in a shallow calabash.
Now my comrade, while seated in the Happar house, began to feel more
troubled than ever at leaving me: indeed, so sad did he feel that he
talked about going back to the valley, and wanted Jimmy to escort him
as far as the mountains. But the sailor would not listen to him, and,
by way of diverting his thoughts, pressed him to drink of the arva.
Knowing its narcotic nature, he refused; but Jimmy said he would have
something mixed with it, which would convert it into an innocent
beverage that would inspirit them for the rest of their journey. So at
last he was induced to drink of it, and its effects were just as the
sailor had predicted; his spirits rose at once, and all his gloomy
thoughts left him.
The old rover now began to reveal his true character, though he was
hardly suspected at the time. “If I get you off to a ship,” said he,
“you will surely give a poor fellow something for saving you.” In
short, before they left the house, he made Toby promise that he would
give him five Spanish dollars if he succeeded in getting any part of
his wages advanced from the vessel, aboard of which they were going;
Toby, moreover, engaging to reward him still farther, as soon as my
deliverance was accomplished.
A little while after this they started again, accompanied by many of
the natives, and going up the valley, took a steep path near its head,
which led to Nukuheva. Here the Happars paused, and watched them as
they ascended the mountain, one group of bandit-looking fellows shaking
their spears and casting threatening glances at the poor Typee, whose
heart as well as heels seemed much the lighter when he came to look
down upon them.
On gaining the heights once more, their way led for a time along
several ridges covered with enormous ferns. At last they entered upon a
wooded tract, and here they overtook a party of Nukuheva natives, well
armed, and carrying bundles of long poles. Jimmy seemed to know them
all very well, and stopped for awhile, and had a talk about the
“Wee-Wees,” as the people of Nukuheva call the Monsieurs.
The party with the poles were King Mowanna’s men, and by his orders
they had been gathering them in the ravines for his allies, the French.
Leaving these fellows to trudge on with their loads, Toby and his
companions now pushed forward again, as the sun was already low in the
west. They came upon the valleys of Nukuheva on one side of the bay,
where the highlands slope off into the sea. The men-of-war were still
lying in the harbour, and as Toby looked down upon them, the strange
events which had happened so recently seemed all a dream.
They soon descended towards the beach, and found themselves in Jimmy’s
house before it was well dark. Here he received another welcome from
his Nukuheva wives, and after some refreshments in the shape of
cocoa-nut milk and poee-poee, they entered a canoe (the Typee, of
course, going along) and paddled off to a whale-ship which was anchored
near the shore. This was the vessel in want of men. Our own had sailed
some time before. The captain professed great pleasure at seeing Toby,
but thought from his exhausted appearance that he must be unfit for
duty. However, he agreed to ship him, as well as his comrade as soon as
he should arrive.
Toby begged hard for an armed boat, in which to go round to Typee and
rescue me, notwithstanding the promise of Jimmy. But this the captain
would not hear of, and told him to have patience, for the sailor would
be faithful to his word. When, too, he demanded the five silver dollars
for Jimmy, the captain was unwilling to give them. But Toby insisted
upon it, as he now began to think that Jimmy might be a mere mercenary,
who would be sure to prove faithless if not well paid. Accordingly he
not only gave him the money, but took care to assure him, over and over
again, that as soon as he brought me aboard he would receive a still
larger sum.
Before sunrise the next day, Jimmy and the Typee started in two of the
ship’s boats, which were manned by tabooed natives. Toby, of course,
was all eagerness to go along, but the sailor told him that if he did,
it would spoil all; so, hard as it was, he was obliged to remain.
Towards evening he was on the watch, and descried the boats turning the
headland and entering the bay. He strained his eyes, and thought he saw
me; but I was not there. Descending from the mast almost distracted, he
grappled Jimmy as he struck the deck, shouting in a voice that startled
him, “Where is Tommo?” The old fellow faltered, but soon recovering,
did all he could to soothe him, assuring him that it had proved to be
impossible to get me down to the shore that morning; assigning many
plausible reasons, and adding that early on the morrow he was going to
visit the bay again in a French boat, when, if he did not find me on
the beach—as this time he certainly expected to—he would march right
back into the valley, and carry me away at all hazards. He, however,
again refused to allow Toby to accompany him.
Now, situated as Toby was, his sole dependence for the present was upon
Jimmy, and therefore he was fain to comfort himself as well as he could
with what the old sailor told him.
The next morning, however, he had the satisfaction of seeing the French
boat start with Jimmy in it. To-night, then, I will see him, thought
Toby; but many a long day passed before he ever saw Tommo again. Hardly
was the boat out of sight, when the captain came forward and ordered
the anchor weighed; he was going to sea.
Vain were all Toby’s ravings,—they were disregarded; and when he came
to himself, the sails were set, and the ship fast leaving the land.
... “Oh! said he to me at our meeting, what sleepless nights were mine.
Often I started from my hammock, dreaming you were before me, and
upbraiding me for leaving you on the island.”
There is little more to be related. Toby left his vessel at New
Zealand, and after some further adventures, arrived home in less than
two years after leaving the Marquesas. He always thought of me as
dead—and I had every reason to suppose that he, too, was no more; but a
strange meeting was in store for us, which made Toby’s heart all the
lighter.
APPENDIX
The author of this volume arrived at Tahiti the very day that the
iniquitous designs of the French were consummated by inducing the
subordinate chiefs, during the absence of their queen, to ratify an
artfully-drawn treaty, by which she was virtually deposed. Both menaces
and caresses were employed on this occasion, and the 32-pounders which
peeped out of the port-holes of the frigate were the principal
arguments adduced to quiet the scruples of the more conscientious
islanders.
And yet this piratical seizure of Tahiti, with all the woe and
desolation which resulted from it, created not half so great a
sensation, at least in America, as was caused by the proceedings of the
English at the Sandwich Islands. No transaction has ever been more
grossly misrepresented than the events which occurred upon the arrival
of Lord George Paulet at Oahu. During a residence of four months at
Honolulu, the metropolis of the group, the author was in the confidence
of an Englishman who was much employed by his lordship; and great was
the author’s astonishment on his arrival at Boston, in the autumn of
1844, to read the distorted accounts and fabrications which had
produced in the United States so violent an outbreak of indignation
against the English. He deems it, therefore, a mere act of justice
towards a gallant officer briefly to state the leading circumstances
connected with the event in question.
It is needless to rehearse all the abuse that for some time previous to
the spring of 1843 had been heaped upon the British residents,
especially upon Captain Charlton, Her Britannic Majesty’s
consul-general, by the native authorities of the Sandwich Islands. High
in the favour of the imbecile king at this time was one Dr. Judd, a
sanctimonious apothecary-adventurer, who, with other kindred and
influential spirits, were animated by an inveterate dislike to England.
The ascendancy of a junta of ignorant and designing Methodist elders in
the councils of a half-civilised king, ruling with absolute sway over a
nation just poised between barbarism and civilisation, and exposed by
the peculiarities of its relations with foreign states to unusual
difficulties, was not precisely calculated to impart a healthy tone to
the policy of the government.
At last matters were brought to such an extremity, through the
iniquitous maladministration of affairs, that the endurance of further
insults and injuries on the part of the British consul was no longer to
be borne. Captain Charlton, insultingly forbidden to leave the islands,
clandestinely withdrew, and arriving at Valparaiso, conferred with
Rear-Admiral Thomas, the English commander-in-chief on the Pacific
station. In consequence of this communication, Lord George Paulet was
despatched by the admiral in the _Carysfort_ frigate, to inquire into
and correct the alleged abuses. On arriving at his destination, he sent
his first lieutenant ashore with a letter to the king, couched in terms
of the utmost courtesy, and soliciting the honour of an audience. The
messenger was denied access to His Majesty, and Paulet was coolly
referred to Dr. Judd, and informed that the apothecary was invested
with plenary powers to treat with him. Rejecting this insolent
proposition, his lordship again addressed the king by letter, and
renewed his previous request; but he encountered another repulse.
Justly indignant at this treatment, he penned a third epistle,
enumerating the grievances to be redressed, and demanding a compliance
with his requisitions, under penalty of immediate hostilities.
The government was now obliged to act, and an artful stroke of policy
was decided upon by the despicable councillors of the king to entrap
the sympathies and rouse the indignation of Christendom. His Majesty
was made to intimate to the British captain that he could not, as the
conscientious ruler of his beloved people, comply with the arbitrary
demands of his lordship, and in deprecation of the horrors of war,
tendered to his acceptance the _provisional cession_ of the islands,
subject to the result of the negotiations then pending in London.
Paulet, a bluff and straight-forward sailor, took the king at his word,
and after some preliminary arrangements, entered upon the
administration of Hawaiian affairs, in the same firm and benignant
spirit which marked the discipline of his frigate, and which had
rendered him the idol of his ship’s company. He soon endeared himself
to nearly all orders of the islanders; but the king and the chiefs,
whose feudal sway over the common people was laboriously sought to be
perpetuated by their missionary advisers, regarded all his proceedings
with the most vigilant animosity. Jealous of his growing popularity,
and unable to counteract it, they endeavoured to assail his reputation
abroad by ostentatiously protesting against his acts, and appealing in
Oriental phrase to the _wide universe_ to witness and compassionate
their _unparalleled wrongs_.
Heedless of their idle clamours, Lord George Paulet addressed himself
to the task of reconciling the differences among the foreign residents,
remedying their grievances, promoting their mercantile interests, and
ameliorating, as far as lay in his power, the condition of the degraded
natives. The iniquities he brought to light and instantly suppressed
are too numerous to be here recorded; but one instance may be mentioned
that will give some idea of the lamentable misrule to which these poor
islanders are subjected.
It is well known that the laws at the Sandwich Islands are subject to
the most capricious alterations, which, by confounding all ideas of
right and wrong in the minds of the natives, produce the most
pernicious effects. In no case is this mischief more plainly
descernible than in the continually shifting regulations concerning
licentiousness. At one time the most innocent freedoms between the
sexes are punished with fine and imprisonment; at another the
revocation of the statute is followed by the most open and undisguised
profligacy.
It so happened that at the period of Paulet’s arrival the Connecticut
blue laws had been for at least three weeks steadily enforced. In
consequence of this, the fort at Honolulu was filled with a great
number of young girls, who were confined there doing penance for their
slips from virtue. Paulet, although at first unwilling to interfere
with regulations having reference solely to the natives themselves, was
eventually, by the prevalence of certain reports, induced to institute
a strict inquiry into the internal administration of General Kekuanoa,
governor of the island of Oahu, one of the pillars of the Hawaiian
Church, and captain of the fort. He soon ascertained that numbers of
the young females employed during the day at work intended for the
benefit of the king, were at night smuggled over the ramparts of the
fort—which on one side directly overhangs the sea—and were conveyed by
stealth on board such vessels as had contracted with the General to be
supplied with them. Before daybreak they returned to their quarters,
and their own silence with regard to these secret excursions was
purchased by a small portion of those wages of iniquity which were
placed in the hands of Kekuanoa.
The vigour with which the laws concerning licentiousness were at that
period enforced, enabled the General to monopolise in a great measure
the detestable trade in which he was engaged, and there consequently
flowed into his coffers—and some say into those of the government
also—considerable sums of money. It is indeed a lamentable fact that
the principal revenue of the Hawaiian government is derived from the
fines levied upon, or rather the licences taken out by Vice, the
prosperity of which is linked with that of the government. Were the
people to become virtuous the authorities would become poor; but from
present indications there is little apprehension to be entertained on
that score.
Some five months after the date of the cession, the _Dublin_ frigate,
carrying the flag of Rear-Admiral Thomas, entered the harbour of
Honolulu. The excitement that her sudden appearance produced on shore
was prodigious. Three days after her arrival an English sailor hauled
down the red cross which had been flying from the heights of the fort,
and the Hawaiian colours were again displayed upon the same staff. At
the same moment the long 42-pounders upon Punchbowl Hill opened their
iron throats in triumphant reply to the thunders of the five men-of-war
in the harbour; and King Kammahammaha III, surrounded by a splendid
group of British and American officers, unfurled the royal standard to
assembled thousands of his subjects, who, attracted by the imposing
military display of the foreigners, had flocked to witness the formal
restoration of the islands to their ancient rulers.
The admiral, after sanctioning the proceedings of his subaltern, had
brought the authorities to terms; and so removed the necessity of
acting any longer under the provisional cession.
The event was made an occasion of riotous rejoicing by the king and the
principal chiefs, who easily secured a display of enthusiasm from the
inferior orders, by remitting for a time the accustomed severity of the
laws. Royal proclamations in English and Hawaiian were placarded in the
streets of Honolulu, and posted up in the more populous villages of the
group, in which His Majesty announced to his loving subjects the
re-establishment of his throne, and called upon them to celebrate it by
breaking through all moral, legal, and religious restraint for ten
consecutive days, during which time all the laws of the land were
solemnly declared to be suspended.
Who that happened to be at Honolulu during those ten memorable days
will ever forget them! The spectacle of universal broad-day debauchery,
which was then exhibited, beggars description. The natives of the
surrounding islands flocked to Honolulu by hundreds, and the crews of
two frigates, opportunely let loose like so many demons to swell the
heathenish uproar, gave the crowning flourish to the scene. It was a
sort of Polynesian saturnalia. Deeds too atrocious to be mentioned were
done at noon-day in the open street, and some of the islanders, caught
in the very act of stealing from the foreigners, were, on being taken
to the fort by the aggrieved party, suffered immediately to go at large
and to retain the stolen property—Kekuanoa informing the white men,
with a sardonic grin, that the laws were “hannapa” (tied up).
The history of these ten days reveals in their true colours the
character of the Sandwich islanders, and furnishes an eloquent
commentary on the results which have flowed from the labours of the
missionaries. Freed from the restraint of severe penal laws, the
natives almost to a man had plunged voluntarily into every species of
wickedness and excess, and by their utter disregard of all decency
plainly showed that, although they had been schooled into a seeming
submission to the new order of things, they were in reality as depraved
and vicious as ever.
Such were the events which produced in America so general an outbreak
of indignation against the spirited and high-minded Paulet. He is not
the first man who, in the fearless discharge of his duty, has awakened
the senseless clamours of those whose narrow-minded suspicions blind
them to a proper appreciation of measures which unusual exigencies may
have rendered necessary.
It is almost needless to add that the British cabinet never had any
idea of appropriating the islands; and it furnishes a sufficient
vindication of the acts of Lord George Paulet, that he not only
received the unqualified approbation of his own government, but that to
this hour the great body of the Hawaiian people invoke blessings on his
head, and look back with gratitude to the time when his liberal and
paternal sway diffused peace and happiness among them.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES
[1] The word “kannaka” is at the present day universally used in the
South Seas by Europeans to designate the islanders. In the various
dialects of the principal groups it is simply a sexual designation
applied to the males; but it is now used by the natives in their
intercourse with foreigners in the same sense in which the latter
employ it.
A “tabooed kannaka” is an islander whose person has been made, to a
certain extent, sacred by the operation of a singular custom hereafter
to be explained.
[2] I presume this might be translated into “Strong Waters.” Arva is
the name bestowed upon a root, the properties of which are both
inebriating and medicinal. “Wai” is the Marquesan word for water.
[3] White appears to be the sacred colour among the Marquesans.
[4] The word “Artua,” although having some other significations, is in
nearly all the Polynesian dialects used as the general designation of
the gods.
[5] The strict honesty which the inhabitants of nearly all the
Polynesian Islands manifest towards each other, is in striking
contrast with the thieving propensities some of them evince in their
intercourse with foreigners. It would almost seem that, according to
their peculiar code of morals, the pilfering of a hatchet or a wrought
nail from a European is looked upon as a praiseworthy action. Or
rather, it may be presumed, that bearing in mind the wholesale forays
made upon them by their nautical visitors, they consider the property
of the latter as a fair object of reprisal. This consideration, while
it serves to reconcile an apparent contradiction in the moral
character of the islanders, should in some measure alter that low
opinion of it which the reader of South Sea voyages is too apt to
form.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors were corrected:
page vi, “Mysterious” changed to “mysterious”
page 2, “attentuated” changed to “attenuated”
page 3, quote mark added after first “Marquesas!”
page 7, double primes changed to primes in first coordinate
page 18, “coacoa-nut” changed to “cocoa-nut”
page 23, period changed to comma after “home”
page 26, “tatooed” changed to “tattooed”
page 52, “Decend” changed to “Descend”
page 62, “hairbreath” changed to “hairbreadth”
page 66, “inceased” changed to “increased”
page 89, “interwined” changed to “intertwined”
page 112, “preverse” changed to “perverse”
page 120, “kemp” changed to “kelp”
page 123, “As” changed to “At”
page 150, period added after “enemy”
page 199, “Figneroa” changed to “Figueroa”
page 242, “as” changed to “is”
page 273, “tumultous” changed to “tumultuous”
page 281, comma added after “course”
Spelling variations were not normalized (e. g. “figure head”,
“figure-head” and “figurehead”, “forefinger” and “fore-finger”,
“clamor” and “clamour”, “verd-antique” and “verde-antique”,
“incumbrances” and “encumber”).