“I was working in the store of the Socéité Comerciale de l'Ocean in Tai-o-hae when the Tropic Bird, a San Francisco mail-schooner, arrived. That was ten years ago. An old man, an American, came into our place and asked the way to Typee.
“‘Ah,’ I said, ‘you have been reading that book by Melville.’ He made no reply, but asked me to escort him to the valley. We set out on horseback, and though he had not said that he had ever been in these islands before, I saw that he was strangely interested in the scenes we passed. He was rather feeble with age, and he grew so excited as we neared the valley that I asked him what he expected to see there.
“He stopped his horse, and hesitated in his reply. He was terribly agitated.
“‘I lived in Typee once upon a time,’ he said slowly. ‘Could there by chance be a woman living there named Manu? That was a long time ago, and I was young. Still, I am here, and she may be, too.’
“I looked at him and could not tell him the truth. It was evident he had made no confidant of the captain or crew of the Tropic Bird, for they could have told him of the desolation in Typee. I hated, though, to have him plump right into the facts.
“‘How many people were there in your day?’ I asked him. He replied that there were many thousands.
“‘I lived there three years,’ he said. ‘I had a sweetheart named Manu, and I married her in the Marquesan way. I was a runaway sailor, and one night on the beach I was captured and taken away on a ship. I have been captain of a great American liner for years, always meaning to come back, and putting it off from year to year. All my people are dead, and I thought I would come now and perhaps find her here and end my days. I have plenty of money.’
“He seemed childish to me—perhaps he really had lost mental poise by age. I hadn't the courage to tell him the truth. We came on it soon enough. You must see Typee to realize what people mean to a place.
“The nonos were simply hell, but as I had lived a good many years in Tai-o-hae I was hardened to them. The old man slapped at them occasionally, but made no complaint. He hardly seemed to feel them, or to realize what their numbers meant. It was when we pushed up the trail through the valley, and he saw only deserted paepaes, that he began to look frightened.
“‘Are they all gone?’ he inquired weakly.