The French man-of-war Zelle transported them to p218 Raiatea, and the two officials landed under the white flag of truce. The chiefs received them, and the two emissaries demanded that they raise the French flag. The chiefs refused, and gave the officers half an hour to get back to the ship. Then the warship shelled the village; but by that time all the natives had made for the brush; and finally, after five or six days' shelling, the sailors landed again and lowered the flag without opposition, for the Kanakas had realised that their fight was useless. But the funny thing about the whole business was that for at least four days the warship had been shelling an empty village.
The islands of Raiatea and Tahaa are in reality one island that has been cut through the middle by some volcanic disturbance. The distance from Raiatea Island to Tahaa is less than seven miles. The tides often sweep through here with such force that small canoes have spent days getting across the channel. Just as we were preparing to sail from Raiatea Island, a tiny outrigger canoe with a big sail hove in sight. In it was a big, almost naked Kanaka named Tehei. He invited Jack and Mrs. London to take a ride in his queer craft, an invitation they cheerfully accepted. They went over to Tahaa, the island seven miles away, and stayed two days, fishing and hunting. On their return, we set out with the Snark through coral reefs where a hundred feet either way would wreck us. At Tahaa we picked up the Kanaka Tehei and his wife, with two canoe-loads of fruit, a pig, chickens p219 and poi. Jack informed us that Tehei had begged very hard to be allowed to go with us to the island of Bora Bora, our last stop in the Society Islands, and that he had yielded to his solicitations. Indeed, Tehei had wanted to go clear to Samoa, but to this Jack shook his head. Tehei had brought his wife, Bihaura, along. To her, also, was given permission to go with us to Bora Bora. Tehei and his wife returned to their house, and early next morning, with a light wind, we crossed the lagoon under power to the point where Tehei and Bihaura were to meet us. As we made into the land between banks of coral, we could see Tehei among the trees, running down toward the beach. He was afraid we would not see him, so he pulled off his shirt and waved it as he ran. Once aboard, Tehei informed us that we must proceed along the land until we got opposite his house. He took the wheel and guided the Snark through the coral, and we reached the beach. Here was another offering of fruit and fowl, two more canoe-loads awaiting us.
All the time that the fruit was being loaded in the cockpit and aft the cockpit, piled up to the railing, I had been letting the engine run free without the propellers in gear; the old engine had never worked better, and Jack was just commenting on how smoothly it was running, when it gave a mighty backfire and stopped, and in a very dangerous place, for the currents were running very swift through here and there was no wind that we might sail by. The crew on p220 deck, with the help of several Kanakas, braced the long oars that we kept for the life-boat, and eight oars worked an hour while I toiled at the engine and finally got it running just as they were nearly exhausted. I threw the clutch into gear again, and with Tehei at the bow to look out for coral reefs, we slowly threaded our way out of countless reefs projecting only a few inches above the surface of the water. Canoes skimmed over the water ahead, showing us the way through the reefs.
Tehei was invaluable. Had it not been for him, I do not believe we would ever have gotten out of that maze of reefs. Now that I have a chance to think over that day's work, I don't believe that I ever had so much experience crowded into a single day before.
With the engines running smoothly, I would go on deck and look over the rail, down on remote bottoms where fish of every hue and colour played among the dense forests of coral. Islands were on every side of us, high rugged peaks, some of them a hundred miles away, and near us small low atolls covered with a riotous growth of cocoanuts. The day was perfect—very little wind, and with the awning stretched over the decks and all sails furled, we slid over the smooth surface of the water straight for Bora Bora. After we left the coral reefs behind, Tehei and Bihaura lay down on deck and went to sleep. Jack and Mrs. London were at work grinding out reading matter for the American public, the rest of the crew were p221 asleep in their bunks, and I sat on the edge of the open skylight and divided the time between watching the engine and gazing over the dozens of small islands.
This was the real South Seas that I had read about, dreamed about, and had never expected to see. Numerous small canoes would put out from the islands and try to board us, but we moved too fast for them, and after paddling till they were out of breath, they would drift back.
At noon dinner was served on deck, entirely of fruit and raw fish. Then everyone went to sleep again, except Captain Y—— at the wheel and myself at the engine. About three in the afternoon the engine started backfiring and knocking so that I was kept in the engine room the rest of the day. With every backfire, the cylinders would lose gas until the engine room was almost unbearable to work in. But if we were to get to Bora Bora that night, I must keep busy with them. Our engine was a seventy-horse-power Twentieth Century, with four cylinders. I would run on two cylinders until they got hot, then turn them off and turn on the other two, and so kept up the hardest afternoon's work I ever did.
It was close to nine o'clock when we reached Bora Bora, and by that time I was nearly dead; but I kept working on the engines. I was doing the only thing possible, though the last few hours seemed a blank to me. The people on deck knew nothing about engines, so they could not help me. They were unaware that p222 I was nearly dead below. I think that during the last hour some power diabolical must have got hold of the engine. I lost consciousness and fell on the floor, and knew nothing till the big gong working in the cockpit gave me the signal to stop the engine. I aroused myself long enough to throw the switch and crawl through the hatchway; then I knew nothing more until several hours later, when I found Mrs. London bathing my face in cold water and the Japanese chafing my limbs with coarse towels. I was certainly near death's door, nearer than I can ever get without actually dying. They told me afterward that my heart was barely beating.
And I think I realise what it must be to be dead, for the only memory I have of that awful period is that I thought I was dead. The gas gave me a queer roaring sensation that seemed like some unearthly music; and had not the gong sounded when it did, I fear it would have been all the music I should ever have heard. How I roused myself enough to shut off the power and get on deck, is a mystery to me now. Many times, even after the lapse of several years, I awaken with that queer feeling of dying, and always I seem to be aboard the Snark. It was barely midnight when I gained consciousness, to hear the sound of music and of singing floating across the quiet lagoon.
Next morning I was still weak, so I did not clean my engines as I usually did after a long run, but went ashore to see the life of Bora Bora. p223