The little canoes used for inside reef passages and on the rivers, are extremely dangerous. The smallest jerk is sufficient to upset them. They do not sink, however, when this occurs, and the natives will sometimes, while supporting themselves in the water, bail a canoe out and right it. The duties in connection with the sailing of a canoe are not performed in a perfunctory manner. The sail is raised with a great shout; every manœuvre is executed with an accompaniment of laughter and singing, varied by playful addresses to the wind, while the scullers are also referred to in frequent expressions of thanks for their labours. Everyone exerts himself to make the whole affair a pleasure jaunt, and the labour is very much lightened by the jocoseness and good humour with which all the work is done.
We left the shore of Viti Lévu with a light breeze on a mildly ruffled sea. As the canoe, named the Marama, or Lady, gently made her liquid way, fresh headlands or islets came into view, and as we glided through the soft sunlight, we seemed to form a part of some magnificent mirage of a painter’s dream.
The Fijian sailors, like those of other countries, have their superstitions. When there is a calm they whistle to the wind, or say sweet things to it, using every art of verbal cajolery to lure it to their craft. The shark is one of their gods. By every sailor tribe he is regarded as a deadly enemy, and extraordinary efforts are made to propitiate him when at sea. When sailing in their canoes the people often throw him roots of kava, and make all sorts of covenants with him, promising that if they only get on shore again alive and well, they will treat him to a feast of fat things, and always be willing to give him the best they have without stint. With these and other fair promises, they comfort one another in times of danger, hoping all the while that their canoe may outride the storm; but if it should not, that the shark-god may have no power to touch them when swimming to land. The savage prowler of the deep is, however, but seldom satisfied with prayers, promises, or gifts from his fearing, and therefore worshipping, children, many of whom on their way to Hades, pass yearly through his horrible jaws. At certain seasons he is said to be more than usually wrathful and voracious. This is perhaps when tribes of smaller fish on which he loves to prey, frequent the bays, harbours, and rivers of the islands. At these times many natives are afraid to bathe in the sea till the shark’s priests have declared his anger to have cooled down. There are many wild traditions about this god, one of which is that should the king of the sharks, who is the greatest god among them, unfortunately happen to be near when a canoe is capsized, he will swallow the whole lot—men, ropes, paddles, oars, mast, spars, and canoe! “So,” says a priest, who may happen to be a passenger in a canoe that as yet is only in danger of capsizing, “Be very careful my brave tars, be very careful!” As he watches the labouring craft, he continues—“Bale away, boys! Stand by the sheet! Luff, luff! Steady! Be men! It is for your lives! Ah, that’s the way! Bravo! Bravo! Your wives and children are at home, looking for your return! The shark, the god of sharks is at hand!”
Various portions of the ocean are consecrated like the most sacred places on shore, and the greatest possible marks of respect are shown to the spirits of such waters by all sea-going people when sailing near or over them. When passing over these marine spirit abodes, the sailor must remove his turban, neck ornaments, and armlets, take his comb and “head-scratcher” out of his big head of hair, wash the paint from his face, give the groan or grunt of respect as to a high chief, and in every other way, however high his own rank may happen to be, make himself in all things of no account.
Nearing the capital of Naulivou’s kingdom, an exquisite panorama unfolded itself to our view. We were in the magic circle of a fairy ring of islands. The curious illusion of the mirage fell upon the scene. Headlands basked and glittered in the distance; lofty mountain cones hung in the air with their inverted images reflected below; sunny peaks were now draped with opalescent clouds, now flushed with purpling red, as we entered the realms of the enchanted land. It was a brilliantly radiating spectacle, seen through an undulating curtain of rosy muslin.
Our voyage to Bau was a highly successful one. Naulivou received us graciously, and promised a contingent of warriors with muskets for Turner, Cobb, and myself. Among the Europeans the old king had living with him, were Charles Savage, a Swedish sailor, who, having been wrecked in an American brig, was the first white man who landed in Fiji. Three of the others were convicts who had escaped in an open boat from New South Wales, and there were two English sailors who had run away from trading ships. They told me that an occasional sandalwood trafficker visited Bau, and that I should certainly before long get the opportunity of a passage to India or China if I wished it; for themselves, they were content to remain in the country. After a week’s feasting, Hot-Water set sail again for his home on the coast of Viti Lévu, it being understood that a party lent by our allies would follow in a few days.
The return voyage was begun under the most auspicious circumstances. Our huge mat sail was hoisted in the early morning. The lightly clouded East was marked with great crimson bars. Though there was wind enough to move our craft, the water was so smooth that every object was reflected in sharp outline, while the horizon glittered like a band of steel. Then the equable trade wind reached us, corrugating the sea with furrows as regular as those of a ploughed field. Not a breath seemed to be lost on the sensitive surface. This continued until we were in sight of Ramáka again.
Quite suddenly the whole aspect changed. Heavy dark clouds, charged with electricity, massed in mountainous folds to windward, a violent tropical squall bore down upon us, and the humid air became oppressively stifling. The sail was lowered with great difficulty before the full force of the wind reached us, but the deck-house had been loosened, and the canoe, which had been severely strained, labored helplessly in a cauldron-like sea, and was drifting at the mercy of the waves.
We were gradually nearing the land, however, and the water must get smooth as we progressed. In a short time the squall had passed, the dark pall was lifted from the Heavens, and the native sailors, who had been greatly alarmed, had begun to assume their wonted alacrity, when a sharp cry of terror from the bows of the canoe attracted the attention of all to that quarter. Two waterspouts, which seemed to be rapidly approaching us, were in full view. Many of the natives threw themselves down, covered their faces with their hands, and appeared to give up all hope.
The movement of these terrible columns was so rapid that there seemed to be no chance of escape. Waterspouts are formed by the sucking up of the foam of the waves by an aerial eddy, the water ascending with a whirling motion. Of the two magnificent objects before us, one seemed like a pillar supporting the clouds, and the other like an inverted cone connected with the clouds. The water at the base was terribly agitated. The aqueous cylinders appeared to be enveloped in a mist, caused by the action of the wind on the small particles of water, but the spiral twisting of the interior could be vaguely seen, and the action of these bodies was accompanied by a tempestuous sound which was awe-inspiring.