THERE was a certain traffic in our anchorage at Atuona;different indeed from the dead inertia and quiescence of the sister island,Nuka-hiva.Sails were seen steering from its mouth;now it would be a whale-boat manned with native rowdies,and heavy with copra for sale;now perhaps a single canoe come after commodities to buy.
The anchorage was besides frequented by fishers;not only the lone females perched in niches of the cliff,but whole parties,who would sometimes camp and build a fire upon the beach,and sometimes lie in their canoes in the midst of the haven and jump by turns in the water;which they would cast eight or nine feet high,to drive,as we supposed,the fish into their nets.The goods the purchasers came to buy were sometimes quaint.I remarked one outrigger returning with a single ham swung from a pole in the stern.And one day there came into Mr.Keane's store a charming lad,excellently mannered,speaking French correctly though with a babyish accent;very handsome too,and much of a dandy,as was shown not only in his shining raiment,but by the nature of his purchases.These were five ship-biscuits,a bottle of scent,and two balls of washing blue.He was from Tauata,whither he returned the same night in an outrigger,daring the deep with these young-ladyish treasures.The gross of the native passengers were more ill-favoured:tall,powerful fellows,well tattooed,and with disquieting manners.Something coarse and jeering distinguished them,and I was often reminded of the slums of some great city.
One night,as dusk was falling,a whale-boat put in on that part of the beach where I chanced to be alone.Six or seven ruffianly fellows scrambled out;all had enough English to give me 'good-bye,'which was the ordinary salutation;or 'good-morning,'which they seemed to regard as an intensitive;jests followed,they surrounded me with harsh laughter and rude looks,and I was glad to move away.I had not yet encountered Mr.Stewart,or I should have been reminded of his first landing at Atuona and the humorist who nibbled at the heel.But their neighbourhood depressed me;and Ifelt,if I had been there a castaway and out of reach of help,my heart would have been sick.
Nor was the traffic altogether native.While we lay in the anchorage there befell a strange coincidence.A schooner was observed at sea and aiming to enter.We knew all the schooners in the group,but this appeared larger than any;she was rigged,besides,after the English manner;and,coming to an anchor some way outside the CASCO,showed at last the blue ensign.There were at that time,according to rumour,no fewer than four yachts in the Pacific;but it was strange that any two of them should thus lie side by side in that outlandish inlet:stranger still that in the owner of the NYANZA,Captain Dewar,I should find a man of the same country and the same county with myself,and one whom I had seen walking as a boy on the shores of the Alpes Maritimes.
We had besides a white visitor from shore,who came and departed in a crowded whale-boat manned by natives;having read of yachts in the Sunday papers,and being fired with the desire to see one.
Captain Chase,they called him,an old whaler-man,thickset and white-bearded,with a strong Indiana drawl;years old in the country,a good backer in battle,and one of those dead shots whose practice at the target struck terror in the braves of Haamau.
Captain Chase dwelt farther east in a bay called Hanamate,with a Mr.M'Callum;or rather they had dwelt together once,and were now amicably separated.The captain is to be found near one end of the bay,in a wreck of a house,and waited on by a Chinese.At the point of the opposing corner another habitation stands on a tall paepae.The surf runs there exceeding heavy,seas of seven and eight feet high bursting under the walls of the house,which is thus continually filled with their clamour,and rendered fit only for solitary,or at least for silent,inmates.Here it is that Mr.
M'Callum,with a Shakespeare and a Burns,enjoys the society of the breakers.His name and his Burns testify to Scottish blood;but he is an American born,somewhere far east;followed the trade of a ship-carpenter;and was long employed,the captain of a hundred Indians,breaking up wrecks about Cape Flattery.Many of the whites who are to be found scattered in the South Seas represent the more artistic portion of their class;and not only enjoy the poetry of that new life,but came there on purpose to enjoy it.Ihave been shipmates with a man,no longer young,who sailed upon that voyage,his first time to sea,for the mere love of Samoa;and it was a few letters in a newspaper that sent him on that pilgrimage.Mr.M'Callum was another instance of the same.He had read of the South Seas;loved to read of them;and let their image fasten in his heart:till at length he could refrain no longer -must set forth,a new Rudel,for that unseen homeland -and has now dwelt for years in Hiva-oa,and will lay his bones there in the end with full content;having no desire to behold again the places of his boyhood,only,perhaps -once,before he dies -the rude and wintry landscape of Cape Flattery.Yet he is an active man,full of schemes;has bought land of the natives;has planted five thousand coco-palms;has a desert island in his eye,which he desires to lease,and a schooner in the stocks,which he has laid and built himself,and even hopes to finish.Mr.M'Callum and Idid not meet,but,like gallant troubadours,corresponded in verse.
I hope he will not consider it a breach of copyright if I give here a specimen of his muse.He and Bishop Dordillon are the two European bards of the Marquesas.
'Sail,ho!Ahoy!CASCO,First among the pleasure fleet That came around to greet These isles from San Francisco,And first,too;only one Among the literary men That this way has ever been -Welcome,then,to Stevenson.
Please not offended be At this little notice Of the CASCO,Captain Otis,With the novelist's family.
