“And there, with awful rites, the hoary priest,
Beside that moss-grown heathen altar stood,
His dusky form in magic cincture dressed,
And made the offering to his hideous god.”
“So then,” said Browne, interrupting Arthur’s narrative, “these two parties of savages, instead of going to work, knocking each others’ brains out, as one might naturally have expected, actually commenced entertaining one another with set speeches, very much like the mayor and aldermen of a city corporation receiving a deputation of visitors!”
“There is,” replied Arthur, “an almost childish fondness of form and ceremony among all the Polynesian tribes, as is seen at their high feasts and festivals, their games, and religious rites. The chiefs and priests are in the habit of making little orations upon a variety of occasions, when this is expected of them. Formerly there existed in the Society Islands, a class of persons called Rautis, or orators of battle, whose exclusive business it was to exhort the people in time of war, and on the eve of an engagement. Even during the heat of conflict they mingled with the combatants, and strove to animate and inflame their courage, by recounting the exploits of their ancestors, and urging every motive calculated to excite desperate valour and contempt of death. Some very remarkable instances of the powerful effect produced by the eloquence of these Rautis are recorded, showing that they constituted a by no means useless or ineffective part of a native army. The islanders almost universally have a taste for oratory, by which they are easily affected; and they hold those who excel in it in high estimation.”
“It would appear then,” said Browne, “that they are not such utter heathens after all; I should never have given them credit for so much taste and sensibility.”
“You see, Browne,” said Max, “what advantages you will enjoy over the rest of us, when we get to Eiulo’s island, as Johnny is confident we are destined to do, one of these days. You shall then astonish the simple inhabitants, with Pitt’s reply to Walpole, or ‘Now is the winter of our discontent,’ and gain advancement in the state, by your oratorical gifts. Who knows but you may rise to be prime-minister, or chief Rauti, to his majesty the king!”
“Pray, let Arthur proceed with his story,” said Morton, laughing, “I see that Johnny is beginning to grow impatient: he probably thinks it high time for the cannibals to be introduced, and the fighting to commence.”
“Well,” resumed Arthur, “as soon as the speech-making was over, the natives, who seemed thus far, quite friendly and inoffensive, came forward once more, and we all went through the ceremony of rubbing faces, with a great show of cordiality, though it was easy to perceive that our party were still under the influence of secret fears and misgivings.
“Barton and I, received more than our due proportion of these civilities, and from the wondering exclamations of our new acquaintances as they examined the articles which composed our dress, and their remarks to one another upon our complexion, I inferred that some of them at least, had never seen a white person before. Barton, in particular, attracted a large share of their attention, owing probably to a complexion rather florid, and uncommonly fair, notwithstanding a two years’ residence within the tropics, which, together with his light hair and blue eyes, afforded a striking contrast to the tawny skins and long black elf-locks of the natives.
“The chief of the party, who had acted as spokesman, was called Mowno. He was a young man, with a handsome, boyish face, expressive of good-nature and indolence. Rokóa walked apart with him to make inquiries, as I had no doubt, connected with the subject of his brother’s fate. Meanwhile Barton produced a piece of tortoise-shell, and some pearls, which he exhibited to the natives, asking whether they had any articles of the kind; but after carelessly looking at them, they shook their heads, and inquired what such things were good for; whereupon Barton, casting an annihilating glance at the disconcerted Sinbad, significantly demanded of him what had become of those necklaces of pearls, worn by the natives of Angatan, and whether these simple, inoffensive people, were the gigantic cannibals, about whom he had manufactured such enormous lies.
“After Mowno had concluded his conference with Rokóa, he led us to a large building near the beach, in a very ruinous and decayed state, and completely over-shadowed by aged tamanu-trees. It seemed, from its size and peculiar structure, to be a deserted marae, or native temple. He then sent away two of his people, who soon returned with several clusters of cocoa-nuts, and some bananas, for our refreshment. On learning that the supply of water which we had taken in for our voyage, was nearly exhausted, he informed us that there was no spring or stream, nearer than his village, which was some two miles inland, and promised to have a supply sent us during the day. They had come down to the shore, as we now learned, for the purpose of cutting mangrove roots, from which they make large and powerful bows, and the whole party soon left us at the marae, and proceeded to the beach; in about an hour we saw them depart inland, carrying fagots of these roots, without taking any further notice of us.