“Of course, polygamy is—” I was about to say “forbidden,” when I felt that I had broached a delicate topic. I was stupid. Here in a lagoon surrounded by a narrow fringe of coral, to bang the eternal polyangle of one man and many women! The elders looked pained. I was about to withdraw the remark with an apology, but Westover made the most of his twenty-four years and waived aside my amends.
“It must be met,” he said. “We obey the laws of the land. The American law forbids plural marriages, and our church expressly forbids them. We are loyal Americans. We say to these people that polygamy is not to be practised. That’s true, no matter what the Josephites say.”
Elder De Kalb, who was watching me, interposed:
“I suppose you’re not a Mormon, but, as a matter of fact, isn’t polygamy, with wives and children to the extent of a man’s purse, all avowed and cherished, better than adultery?”
Overton got upon his feet. “You bet it is,” he declared, with intense feeling. “It’s nature’s law. There are more women than men by millions. Men are polygamous by instinct. And, by heavens! look at all those old maids at home and in England!”
Photo from Underwood and Underwood
Mormon elders baptizing in the lagoon
Considering the sorrows of old maids, I felt my standards being endangered, but was saved from downright perversion by accepting the royal favor of a tub of fresh water from a cistern that caught the rain-water from the roof. I was seeking to immerse myself in the inadequate bath when I saw the daughter of the king gazing at me interestedly, and I hope that I blushed. But the princess distinctly winked in the direction of my hosts as I attempted to sink into oblivion in the ten-gallon pail.
Over the reef in a canoe