The English had never found a more picturesque and attractive country in any of their voyages. On the shore, the huts of the natives were sheltered by shady woods, in which flourished graceful clusters of cocoanut-trees. Graduated chains of hills, with wooded summits, and the silver sheen of rivers glistening amid the verdure as they found their way to the sea, added to the beauty of the interior.
The boats sent to take soundings were suddenly surrounded at the entrance of a large bay by a crowd of pirogues. Wallis, to avoid a collision, gave the order for the discharge from the swivel gun above the natives' heads, but although the noise terrified them, they still continued their approach.
The captain accordingly ordered his boats to make for the shore, and the natives finding themselves disregarded, threw some sharp stones which wounded a few sailors. But the captains of the boats replied to this attack by a volley of bullets, which injured one of them, and was followed by the flight of the rest.
The Dauphin anchored next day at the mouth of a large river in twenty fathoms of water. The sailors rejoiced universally. The natives immediately surrounded them with pirogues, bringing pigs, fowls, and various fruits, which were quickly exchanged for hardware and nails. One of the boats employed in taking soundings, however, was attacked by blows from paddles and sticks, and the sailors were forced to use their weapons. One native was killed, a second severely wounded, and the rest jumped into the water. Seeing that they were not pursued, and conscious that they themselves had been the aggressors, they returned to traffic with the Dauphin as if nothing had happened. Upon returning on board, the officers reported that the natives had invited them to land, more especially the women, with unequivocal gestures, and that moreover, there was excellent anchorage near the shore within reach of water.
The only inconvenience arose from a considerable swell. The Dauphin accordingly weighed anchor and proceeded into the open sea to run with the wind, when all at once Wallis perceived a bay seven or eight miles distant, which he determined to reach. The captain was soon to experience the truth of the proverb which asserts that one had better leave well alone.
Although soundings were taken by the boats as they advanced, the Dauphin struck on a rock and damaged her forepart. The usual measures in such a case were taken immediately, but outside the chain of madreporic rocks no depth could be sounded. It was consequently impossible to cast anchor, or to use the capstan. What course had best be pursued in this critical situation? The vessel beat violently against the rocks, and a host of pirogues waited in expectation of a shipwreck, eager to clutch their prey. Fortunately at the end of an hour a favourable breeze rising, disengaged the Dauphin, and wafted her into good anchorage. The damage done was not serious, and was as easily repaired as forgotten.
Wallis, rendered prudent by the constant efforts of the natives, divided his men into four parties, one of which was always to be armed. And he ordered guns to be fired. But after one or two rounds the number of pirogues increased, and no longer laden with poultry, they appeared to be filled with stones. The crews of the larger vessels also were augmented.
All at once upon a given signal a storm of pebbles fell upon the ship. Wallis ordered a general discharge, and had two guns loaded with fine shot. The natives, after some slight hesitation and disorder, returned to the attack with great bravery; and the captain, noticing the constantly increasing numbers of the assailants, was not without anxiety as to the result, when an unexpected event put an end to the contest.
Among the pirogues which attacked the Dauphin most energetically, was one which appeared to contain a chief, as from it the signal of attack was given. A well-directed shot cut this double pirogue in two.
This was enough to decide the natives upon retreat. They set about it so precipitately that in less than half an hour not a single boat remained in sight. The vessel was then towed into port, and so placed as to protect the disembarkation. Lieutenant Furneaux landed at the head of a strong detachment of sailors and marines, and planting the English flag, took possession of the island in the name of the King of England, in whose honour it was named George the Third. The natives called it Tahiti.