“And so, Papalagi, that is why some childrens of the isles to the north-west have the cruelty of the shark in their hearts, for they are the descendants of the clay-womans that Atua Mara made. And Atua Mara is now one great jealous god. He ever walk ’bout bottom of seas trying to catch girls and mans so that he can take them to his cave and make them, like him, unhappy.”[[3]]
[3]. Some authorities seem to give different versions of the South Sea creation legends. One legend says: The islands were originally a large shark. Another, that the god Atua Mara had temples wherein the priests made sacrifices to his honour; but, being dissatisfied with so much worship, he pulled the temples down, threw them all into the sea, and with the rubbish that they made turned them all into islands. Yet another legend: The great god Taroa was the first god of the skies: he laboured so much over creation that the sweat falling from his body made all the deep seas.
As Pokara finished his story the shadows deepened over the mountains. We heard the voices of the natives who were fishing in the bay at the foot of the mountains. Then we scattered the red ashes of our camp-fire, for we still had a mile to journey ere we entered Papeete. And as we walked away from that spot we looked back over our shoulders, and I distinctly observed the feathers of the shark-god’s hair poking out of the ocean’s glassy expanse. Pokara sighed; and as the first stars crept out of the deep velvet skies we faded away along the shore track, on the last mile of our troubadouring pilgrimage.
CHAPTER IV. I MEET ALOA
The Hut in the Mountains—A Modern Fairy—The Escape—Love’s Hospitality—The Stranger from the Infinite Seas!
IN this chapter I will tell a true fairy story that is directly connected with Pokara’s and my own experiences. Indeed, I imagine it to be one of the most realistic fairy-tales that it was my lot to hear and witness in its most full-blooded stage; I also deem that it will be interesting, in an educational sense, to students of modern mythology, since it quaintly distinguishes the difference between pre-Christian mythology and the materialized Goddesses and Creation myths of to-day, through being modified by European influences.
About a week after my troubadouring expedition with Pokara, I sat by the old chief’s side wondering what new venture his erratic personality would thrust upon me. My comrade, clad in his finest attire of distinguished chiefdom, had puckered his brows, and his eyes had that look about them which plainly told me that he was about to spring some new surprise upon me. Suddenly he said:
“Masser, you play nicer moosic, therefore am to be trusted; I knower that you feel kinder towards good mans who am in trouble and so no tell what you no tell and so make troubles!”
“Not I, Pokara, old pal,” I responded, though I felt I was no apostle of such mighty virtues any more than was Pokara. Without hesitation the aged Tahitian began to insinuate by gentle hints that he wished me to go off with him to see a dear friend who lived in the mountains that formed a grand background to the semi-pagan city, Papeete. Before the screaming coveys of parakeets, that were bound seaward, had faded on the horizon, we were off.