There is no pleasanter sight in the world than that of the stalwart young Filbertine youths gathering dew-fish in the early dawn of a perfect tropical day. It is only at this time that these edible little creatures can be caught. Just as the sun's rays flash across the horizon they rise to the surface of the water in vast numbers, turning the entire ocean to a pulsating mirror of silver. For five minutes they lie thus, then suddenly sink simultaneously. Their work for the day, so far as we know it, is done. The natives fill their cheeks—which are very elastic—with hundreds of these tiny fish which they afterwards eject on the shore. Here we see Hitoia-Upa and Ablutiluti gathering dew-fish for the great feast given in honor of Dr. Traprock and his companions.]
In facial character the tribe is regular and well proportioned, presenting no traces of negroid antecedents. Noses are slender and slightly retroussed, lips clean-cut, chins modestly assertive with lower jaws superbly adapted to cracking cocoanuts and oysters, foreheads low with sufficient projection at the eye-line for shade purposes. All in all, they are entitled to an A-plus in beauty and reminded me less of Polynesians than of a hand-picked selection of Caucasians who had been coated with a flat-bronze radiator paint.
Beards, moustaches, imperials, goatees, side-whiskers and Galways are unknown, a fact which was to me strange considering the luxuriance of other vegetation until I learned that, from infancy, it is the custom of the Filbertine mother to scour her offspring's face with powdered coral which discourages the facial follicles. These eventually give up and, turning inward and upward, result in a veritable crown of glory on the top of the head, the place, after all, where the hair ought to grow. Their teeth, as with most gramnivora, are sound, regular, brilliantly white and exceptionally large, the average size being that of the double-blank domino.
So much for the men, and far too much, if you ask me, when you think that we still have the adorable women to speak of.
Ever since our first nocturnal glimpse of the charming creatures you can imagine that my companions and I were most eager to see more of them. During the entire next day not one of "les belles sauvages" was visible. It was next to impossible to make inquiries, but Swank, the irrepressible, resolved to try and plied Baahaabaa with questions in French, English, German and beche-de-mer, which only resulted in loud laughter on the part of our host. Swank next tried pantomime, using the French gesture for beauty, a circular motion of the hands about his face accompanied by sickening smiles. Baahaabaa watched him intently, slapped his hip sharply, uttering a melodious command and shortly afterward Hitoia-Upa presented Swank with a beautifully made wreath of elecampane blossoms (inula helenion) exactly matching his beard. This was all very well but got us nowhere.
On the day following, however, our difficulties were unexpectedly solved. Abluluti and a companion of his, Moolitonu (Bull-lost-in-a-Thunder-Storm), indicated by certain large gestures that if we liked they would be glad to make a tour of the island, a proposition we gladly accepted. Moolitonu was our official map. On his broad back in the most exquisite azure tattooing was a diagram of the island showing all main-routes, good and bad trails and points of interest. Moolitonu was, in fact, a human Blue-book.
Equipped with individual taa-taas and quart cocoanut shells of hoopa, a delicious twenty-seven per cent. milk, we set out along a well-traveled trail, stopping ever and anon to enjoy the tranquil beauty of the outer sea or the more spectacular glimpses of the inner lagoon dominated by the mountain. We had made the circuit of approximately three-fourths of the island, when suddenly, without a word of warning, we stumbled into the Hativa-faui, or ladies' dressing-room. Instantly we were surrounded by a bevy of captivating beauties. Our guides had evidently counted on our surprise for they laughed uproariously, their mirth being joyously echoed by the graceful women who crowded about us, patting, petting and bidding us unmistakable welcome to their compound. I have never seen a more charming sylvan retreat.
