"Impossible," replied Willis; "we should both be stuck all over with arrows and lances before we could reach the pinnace. Did I not tell you not to come ashore?"
"True, Willis, but did you suppose I had no heart? How could I look on quietly whilst you were surrounded by a mob of ferocious-looking men?"
"Well, well, Master Jack, say no more about it; I do not suppose they mean to do me any harm; but there would be danger in rousing the passions of such a multitude of people. They seem, luckily, to direct their attentions exclusively to me, so you had better go back and look after the canoe."
"No; I shall follow you wherever you go, Willis, even into the soup-kettles of the wretches."
"In that case," said Willis, "the wine is poured out, and, such as it is, we must drink it."
CHAPTER XX.
JUPITER TONANS—THE THUNDERS OF THE PILOT—WORSHIPPERS OF THE FAR WEST—A LATE BREAKFAST—RONO THE GREAT—A POLYNESIAN LEGEND—MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF OCEANIA—MR. AND MRS. TAMAIDI—REGAL POMP—ELBOW ROOM—KATZENMUSIK—QUEEN TONICO AND THE SHAVING GLASS—CONSEQUENCES OF A PINCH OF SNUFF—DISGRACE OF THE GREAT RONO—MARIUS—CORIOLANUS—HANNIBAL—ALCIBIADES—CIMON—ARISTIDES—A SOP FOR THE THIRSTY—AIR SOMETHING ELSE BESIDES OXYGEN AND HYDROGEN—MARYLAND AND WHITECHAPEL—HALF-WAY UP THE CORDILLERAS—HUMAN MACHINES—STAR OF THE SEA, PRAY FOR US!
Was he on his way to the Capitol or to the Gemoniae? The solution of this question became, for the moment, of greater importance to Willis than the "to be or not to be" of Hamlet to the State of Denmark. This incertitude was all the more painful, that it was accompanied by myriads of insects, created by the recent rains; these swarmed in the air to such an extent, that it was utterly impossible to inhale the one without swallowing the other. The sailor, notwithstanding his elevated and somewhat perilous position, true to his instincts and tormented by the flies, took out his pipe, filled it, and struck a light. As soon as the first column of smoke issued from his mouth, the cavalcade halted spontaneously, the natives fell on their faces, their noses touching the ground, and in an attitude of the profoundest fear and apprehension. Jupiter thundering never created such a sensation as Willis smoking. The savages seemed glued to the earth with terror. If the Pilot had thought it advisable to escape, he might have walked over the prostrate bodies of his captors, not one of whom would have been bold enough to follow what appeared to be a human volcano, vomiting fire and smoke,—the fire of course being understood.
Willis, however, now saw that he possessed in his pipe a ready means of awing them. Besides, it was clear that, through some fortunate coincidence, the natives had mistaken him for a divinity. There was, consequently, no immediate danger to be apprehended; he therefore became himself again, and began to enjoy the novelty of his new dignity.