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Finding that no one would let him alone, and not desiring to end his days in either an asylum or a jail, he made his way to Hawaii. But there was no relief for him. Here he was given his choice between leaving Hawaii or going to prison for a year.

Darling went to Tahiti. And there, at last, after all his wanderings and harassments, he found a haven. The Tahitians and French neither jailed him nor questioned his sanity. He spent his days in the open, on a tract of land he bought, near Papeete; and his food he picked from his own trees. When in town, he was busy in such simple shopping as he found necessary, or in expounding the principles of Socialism, in which he was a devoted believer.

We had lived in Papeete three months and a half before everything was ready for us to start again through the islands. We had decided to visit the island of Moorea first, then, on a special invitation from Helene, we were going to Raiatea.

Before leaving Papeete, we got a new sailor, a French boy named Ernest. Ernest was signed on the French bark Elizabeth as ordinary seaman. When our captain offered him a job on the Snark, he ran away from the French ship, and lived on fruit in the mountains until she had sailed, when he came down and joined us. He was eighteen years old, spoke little English, and was an all-around sailor. He had been p212 round the world twice. He was very tall—one inch taller than I was—so that he was likewise obliged to stoop when he went below.

We were three hours and forty minutes getting out of Papeete Harbor and dropping anchor in Moorea Bay. On this trip, the engine ran perfectly; and it is hard to say which was the most pleased—Jack, Mrs. London, or I. I took Mr. and Mrs. London ashore in the launch, then came back and went to bed with a terrible headache, and did not have time to get a good idea of the bay until next morning. It is about three quarters of a mile wide, by one and a half long, and reminded me very much of Taiohae Bay in the Marquesas. All around range the mountains, ragged peaks with the sides one mass of green, with cocoanut palms half way to the top. The beach was a jungle of palms and bananas. With the glass, we could count as many as seventy cocoanuts on one tree. All day I painted the engine room, and that night walked with Ernest two miles along the beach to the village, which consisted of three Chinese stores and a bunch of grass houses.

Along the way we met Kanakas, looking very cool, dressed only in their pareu cloth.

"Iaorana!" they all greeted us, and with some joke passed laughingly on. When we got aboard, I started the searchlight, and turned it on the huts along the beach. The Kanakas would come out and watch us, and some of the vahines hula-hula'd for us. In the p213 glare of the light, I could see Jack and Mrs. London eating in the open-air dining place of MacTavish, a white man, who boards any person who ever drifts to Moorea.

Next morning, I took the Londons out in the launch to make photographs; but in an hour the launch-engine stopped, and I had to land them, while I repaired it. I had it in good running order again in an hour.