As we went out of the house the missionary's wife made me a present of a fowl. The Hawaiian joined us as we passed his place and his wife ran out with another fowl. I had made up a little parcel for her, a red comb, a bead necklace, a bottle of fine scent, and a striped blue-and-white summer jersey, with a large silk handkerchief for her husband. The next day they, with their little daughter, came to pay us a visit on board, fetching with them three young fowls and a very fine, beautiful mat of a pattern I had not seen before. Louis was greatly pleased with my friends and promised to send the man his photograph. When he said good-bye, to our surprise he asked for Louis's card, which was a piece of civilisation we were not prepared for. We have touched at no island where there has not been at least one person we were sorry to leave and should be glad to meet again, though this was the only place where these friends were foreign to the land.
[19] A political refugee from Samoa.
[20] Fresh palm toddy tastes like sweet champagne and is very wholesome; sour or fermented toddy is quite another thing.
[21] Retainers
[22] Raw fish may seem a strange delicacy for a sick man, but, properly prepared, there is nothing better than fresh raw mullet. I first learned this in Tautira, a lovely native village on the "wild side" of Tahiti. My husband was alarmingly ill with pneumonia, and had sunk into a state of coma. There was no way to reach civilisation except by means of our yacht, the Casco—and the Casco—was gone to Papeete to have her masts repaired. Crushed by this catastrophe I was gazing stupidly out over the village green, trying to gather my wits together, when my attention was distracted for a moment by the spectacle of a tall, graceful, native woman entering the house of the chief of Tautira, amid the acclamations of a great crowd. I vaguely remembered that for many days there had been preparations making for an expected visit from Moe, "the great princess." In about half an hour there was a tap at our door; there stood Moe with a plate of raw fish prepared with miti sauce. Speaking perfect English, she told me that she had heard there was a sick foreigner in the village whose wife was troubled because he would not eat, so, she said, she had made this dish herself, and if we could only get him to taste it he would eat more, and convalescence would follow immediately. At first Louis turned his head to one side wearily without opening his eyes, but by the advice of the princess I slipped a morsel between his lips; to my surprise he swallowed the bit, then another, and finally opened his eyes and asked: "What's that?" Several times a day the princess came with her plate of fish and miti sauce, which was soon eagerly watched for and devoured by my invalid, and within the week Louis had so far recovered as to be able to walk over to the chief's house, where we took up our abode with him and Moe.
The raw fish, as prepared in Tahiti, instead of being revolting in appearance, as one might imagine, is as pleasing to the sight as to the taste. The fresh white meat of the mullet is cut into neat little strips about half an inch wide and a couple of inches long and laid side by side on a plate—of course it is carefully freed from skin and bones—and covered with miti sauce. Miti sauce is made of milk pressed from cocoanut meats (an entirely different thing from the refreshing water of the green drinking nut), mixed with about one third the quantity of lime-juice, a few tiny bits of the wild red pepper, and a little sea water. This sauce seems to cook the fish, which takes on a curdled look, and curls up a little at the edges as though it had just been boiled.
[23] Tin Jack came to a sad end. He possessed a certain fixed income, which, however, was not large enough for Jack's ideas, so he spent most of the year as a South Sea trader, using the whole of his year's income in one wild burst of dissipation in the town of Sydney. One of his favourite amusements was to hire a hansom cab for the day, put the driver inside, and drive the vehicle himself, calling upon various passers-by to join him at the nearest public house. Some years ago when Jack was at his station he received word that his trustee, who was in charge of his property, had levanted with it all. Whereupon poor Jack put a pistol to his head and blew out what brains he possessed. He was a beautiful creature, terribly annoying at times, but with something childlike and appealing—I think he was close to what the Scotch call a natural—that made one forgive pranks in him that would be unforgivable in others. He was very proud of being the original of "Tommy Hadden" in the "Wrecker," and carried the book wherever he went.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.