HOW WE WERE TO GET TO TALOO
The inglorious circumstances of our somewhat premature departure from
Tamai filled the sagacious doctor, and myself, with sundry misgivings
for the future.
Under Zeke’s protection, we were secure from all impertinent
interference in our concerns on the part of the natives. But as
friendless wanderers over the island, we ran the risk of being
apprehended as runaways, and, as such, sent back to Tahiti. The truth
is that the rewards constantly offered for the apprehension of
deserters from ships induce some of the natives to eye all strangers
suspiciously.
A passport was therefore desirable; but such a thing had never been
heard of in Imeeo. At last, Long Ghost suggested that, as the Yankee
was well known and much respected all over the island, we should
endeavour to obtain from him some sort of paper, not only certifying to
our having been in his employ, but also to our not being highwaymen,
kidnappers, nor yet runaway seamen. Even written in English, a paper
like this would answer every purpose; for the unlettered natives,
standing in great awe of the document, would not dare to molest us
until acquainted with its purport. Then, if it came to the worst, we
might repair to the nearest missionary, and have the passport
explained.
Upon informing Zeke of these matters, he seemed highly flattered with
the opinion we entertained of his reputation abroad; and he agreed to
oblige us. The doctor at once offered to furnish him with a draught of
the paper; but he refused, saying he would write it himself. With a
rooster’s quill, therefore, a bit of soiled paper, and a stout heart,
he set to work. Evidently he was not accustomed to composition; for his
literary throes were so violent that the doctor suggested that some
sort of a Caesarian operation might be necessary.
The precious paper was at last finished; and a great curiosity it was.
We were much diverted with his reasons for not dating it.
“In this here dummed eliminate,” he observed, “a feller can’t keep the
run of the months, nohow; cause there’s no seasons; no summer and
winter, to go by. One’s etarnally thinkin’ it’s always July, it’s so
pesky hot.”
A passport provided, we cast about for some means of getting to Taloo.
The island of Imeeo is very nearly surrounded by a regular breakwater
of coral extending within a mile or less of the shore. The smooth canal
within furnishes the best means of communication with the different
settlements; all of which, with the exception of Tamai, are right upon
the water. And so indolent are the Imeeose that they think nothing of
going twenty or thirty miles round the island in a canoe in order to
reach a place not a quarter of that distance by land. But as hinted
before, the fear of the bullocks has something to do with this.
The idea of journeying in a canoe struck our fancy quite pleasantly;
and we at once set about chartering one, if possible. But none could we
obtain. For not only did we have nothing to pay for hiring one, but we
could not expect to have it loaned; inasmuch as the good-natured owner
would, in all probability, have to walk along the beach as we paddled
in order to bring back his property when we had no further use for it.
At last, it was decided to commence our journey on foot; trusting that
we would soon fall in with a canoe going our way, in which we might
take passage.
The planters said we would find no beaten path: all we had to do was to
follow the beach; and however inviting it might look inland, on no
account must we stray from it. In short, the longest way round was the
nearest way to Taloo. At intervals, there were little hamlets along the
shore, besides lonely fishermen’s huts here and there, where we could
get plenty to eat without pay; so there was no necessity to lay in any
store.
Intending to be off before sunrise the next morning, so as to have the
benefit of the coolest part of the day, we bade our kind hosts farewell
overnight; and then, repairing to the beach, we launched our floating
pallet, and slept away merrily till dawn.