CHAPTER VII
RECRUITING AND SHORE LEAVE
Otaheite, generally called Tahiti, was originally the garden of the world. After the white man came there were great changes, but not for the better. The soil remained as fertile as before and fruits and flowers were just as abundant, but the natives lost the charm of simplicity and innocence, and many of them imitated or adopted the bad traits and habits of the whites. A similar misfortune befell Nukahiva, so we were informed that we were not going into the harbor, but were to get water at a place on the island some distance from the settlement. The captain, we were told, was familiar with the spot, as he had been there before. The men had been looking forward to shore leave, and there was much disappointment, but the privilege of going ashore to fill the casks with water, even in an uninhabited country, was something. Just think of it—to walk once more on the earth after all these months of virtual imprisonment in a whaling vessel!
I heard the captain say to Lakeum, as we approached the shore, “Good anchorage and deep water, and, when the men get ashore, quick work, too.” Hardly had the anchor touched bottom when the casks were lowered, and certain men were picked to man two boats; I was happy in being one of them.
“They don’t want no deserters here,” I heard an old hand say.
The pull was a short one. We landed at a beautiful spot and there, before us, was an expanse of tropical splendors. How nice it was to feel earth beneath one’s feet once more.
“You don’t have to bail and fill here,” said Lakeum.
This was the expression of a fact we were all aware of, for down an elevation only a few feet from the shore poured a bounteous stream of water. When the casks were landed, came the order “Let every man drink all he wants.” We drank as animals drink, with our faces to the stream. Oh! What luxury! It seemed as if we never could get our fill, but the word came, “Better stop now and drink again after the casks are filled.” A canvas hose with a square mouth was forthcoming, and in less than an hour the casks were filled and bunged up by the carpenter. Then we drank again to our hearts’ content. We were soon on ship, the casks were raised, the windlass was started, the ship took the wind and away we went. The men who had been compelled to remain on the ship were alternately noisy and sullen. We who had been permitted to land were equally discontented, for our brief taste of this tropical paradise only made us long for more. We fancied that we were now to seek the “Offshore Ground,” and that it would be many months before we would see land again. A pleasant surprise was in store for us.
The following day was so beautiful as to be beyond my powers to describe. We had a fair wind, and the air was not excessively warm. I think we all felt rather indifferent, and the recollection of the spot we had left the day before did not quicken our energies. In the afternoon the crew were called aft. Captain Gamans stood with hands in his pockets, and we knew that he was about to address us. Was he to upbraid us for something we had done? That seemed improbable. Was he to convey to us bad or good news? We were anxious to know. The captain took the pipe out of his mouth and spoke as follows:
“You men know that just so often you must have a supply of fresh water and a change of food. We’ve got the water, and now we are going to get the food. The owner put aboard of this vessel a lot of cotton cloth, fancy prints, shoes, fishhooks, axes, hatchets, pipes, bar soap and a lot of other things for trade. Now you see if you go into port like Nukahiva, where the natives have become what you call civilized, there’s no barter but money, and you pay a good deal more for things than they are worth. If you trade with the natives where there’s no money, and they ain’t been civilized, you can get a lot of recruits for a mere song. That’s what we are going to do. We are bound for Roa Pona, and we’ll be there to-morrow. After the trading is all done, there’s going to be shore leave for everybody. I have been there before and it’s a good place to trade, but it’s just as well to keep your eyes open. About twenty years ago a whaler went in there to trade and took on board a native as hostage and left on shore a Kanaka, a foremast hand, as the other hostage. In the night the natives killed the Kanaka and roasted and ate him. So now, in trading, ships take a native hostage, but they don’t give one. The trading is done in and from boats, and it’s slow work and takes half a day. The second day’s when you have shore leave, and you can take ashore what trinkets and odds and ends you have, if you want to, and trade with the women for the things they make. You may want to take some of these things home with you to give to your folks.
“Now there’s one thing more. When I was here, before, there was a beach comber on this island named Pete Ellyon. He’s a deserter from a New Bedford whaler and acts as a kind of trader and interpreter. He’s meaner and lower than the meanest and lowest native, and you’d better look out for him. You can’t offer a sailor a greater insult than to call him a beach comber. This man Ellyon’s folks are pretty decent people, and he’s had some education, but he’s a renegade.”