On the arrival of strangers, every man endeavoured to obtain one as a friend and carry him off to his own habitation, where he is treated with the greatest kindness by the inhabitants of the district; they place him on a high seat and feed him with abundance of the finest food.--Polynesian Researches.
The Snark was lying at anchor at Raiatea, just off the village of Uturoa.She had arrived the night before, after dark, and we were preparing to pay our first visit ashore.Early in the morning I had noticed a tiny outrigger canoe, with an impossible spritsail, skimming the surface of the lagoon.The canoe itself was coffin-shaped, a mere dugout, fourteen feet long, a scant twelve inches wide, and maybe twenty-four inches deep.It had no lines, except in so far that it was sharp at both ends.Its sides were perpendicular.Shorn of the outrigger, it would have capsized of itself inside a tenth of a second.It was the outrigger that kept it right side up.
I have said that the sail was impossible.It was.It was one of those things, not that you have to see to believe, but that you cannot believe after you have seen it.The hoist of it and the length of its boom were sufficiently appalling; but, not content with that, its artificer had given it a tremendous head.So large was the head that no common sprit could carry the strain of it in an ordinary breeze.So a spar had been lashed to the canoe, projecting aft over the water.To this had been made fast a sprit guy: thus, the foot of the sail was held by the main-sheet, and the peak by the guy to the sprit.
It was not a mere boat, not a mere canoe, but a sailing machine.
And the man in it sailed it by his weight and his nerve--principally by the latter.I watched the canoe beat up from leeward and run in toward the village, its sole occupant far out on the outrigger and luffing up and spilling the wind in the puffs.
"Well, I know one thing," I announced; "I don't leave Raiatea till Ihave a ride in that canoe."
A few minutes later Warren called down the companionway, "Here's that canoe you were talking about."Promptly I dashed on deck and gave greeting to its owner, a tall, slender Polynesian, ingenuous of face, and with clear, sparkling, intelligent eyes.He was clad in a scarlet loin-cloth and a straw hat.In his hands were presents--a fish, a bunch of greens, and several enormous yams.All of which acknowledged by smiles (which are coinage still in isolated spots of Polynesia) and by frequent repetitions of mauruuru (which is the Tahitian "thank you"), Iproceeded to make signs that I desired to go for a sail in his canoe.
His face lighted with pleasure and he uttered the single word, "Tahaa," turning at the same time and pointing to the lofty, cloud-draped peaks of an island three miles away--the island of Tahaa.It was fair wind over, but a head-beat back.Now I did not want to go to Tahaa.I had letters to deliver in Raiatea, and officials to see, and there was Charmian down below getting ready to go ashore.
By insistent signs I indicated that I desired no more than a short sail on the lagoon.Quick was the disappointment in his face, yet smiling was the acquiescence.
"Come on for a sail," I called below to Charmian."But put on your swimming suit.It's going to be wet."It wasn't real.It was a dream.That canoe slid over the water like a streak of silver.I climbed out on the outrigger and supplied the weight to hold her down, while Tehei (pronounced Tayhayee) supplied the nerve.He, too, in the puffs, climbed part way out on the outrigger, at the same time steering with both hands on a large paddle and holding the mainsheet with his foot.
"Ready about!" he called.
I carefully shifted my weight inboard in order to maintain the equilibrium as the sail emptied.
"Hard a-lee!" he called, shooting her into the wind.
I slid out on the opposite side over the water on a spar lashed across the canoe, and we were full and away on the other tack.
"All right," said Tehei.
Those three phrases, "Ready about," "Hard a-lee," and "All right,"comprised Tehei's English vocabulary and led me to suspect that at some time he had been one of a Kanaka crew under an American captain.Between the puffs I made signs to him and repeatedly and interrogatively uttered the word SAILOR.Then I tried it in atrocious French.MARIN conveyed no meaning to him; nor did MATELOT.Either my French was bad, or else he was not up in it.Ihave since concluded that both conjectures were correct.Finally, Ibegan naming over the adjacent islands.He nodded that he had been to them.By the time my quest reached Tahiti, he caught my drift.
His thought-processes were almost visible, and it was a joy to watch him think.He nodded his head vigorously.Yes, he had been to Tahiti, and he added himself names of islands such as Tikihau, Rangiroa, and Fakarava, thus proving that he had sailed as far as the Paumotus--undoubtedly one of the crew of a trading schooner.
After our short sail, when he had returned on board, he by signs inquired the destination of the Snark, and when I had mentioned Samoa, Fiji, New Guinea, France, England, and California in their geographical sequence, he said "Samoa," and by gestures intimated that he wanted to go along.Whereupon I was hard put to explain that there was no room for him."Petit bateau" finally solved it, and again the disappointment in his face was accompanied by smiling acquiescence, and promptly came the renewed invitation to accompany him to Tahaa.
Charmian and I looked at each other.The exhilaration of the ride we had taken was still upon us.Forgotten were the letters to Raiatea, the officials we had to visit.Shoes, a shirt, a pair of trousers, cigarettes matches, and a book to read were hastily crammed into a biscuit tin and wrapped in a rubber blanket, and we were over the side and into the canoe.
"When shall we look for you?" Warren called, as the wind filled the sail and sent Tehei and me scurrying out on the outrigger.
