On the Queen’s birthday in question, the matrons and maidens decided to dress in their best—white gowns preferred—and spend the day as their fancy led them. One old grandmother proposed that a knot of white ribbon be worn on the left shoulder, which was done, strips of cloth supplying the place of ribbons. When the twenty-fourth day of May arrived, cloudless and beautiful, it was greeted with loud and loyal cheers from all, while the women and girls rose with the dawn to array themselves in honor of the day, and surprise their husbands and brothers, fathers and lovers, with their display, as all their preparations had been kept secret.
The men were invited to come and join in the merrymaking, and they obeyed with alacrity. All work was laid aside, and everyone entered heartily into the sports and games that followed. The older women attended to the babies and prepared the early supper, the materials for which had been supplied beforehand. After the plentiful repast, all were at liberty to enjoy themselves as they pleased. The daughters of the mutineers, being now themselves the grandmothers, entered with zest into the sports, and contributed not a little to the general entertainment by reviving many of the games learned from their Tahitian mothers.
They introduced into their games and sports the beating of calabashes with sticks, performed with extreme precision, to which the players kept time, moving with noiseless step and an easy grace that was pleasing to witness. This performance was called the ihara. Another native dance, the uri, was performed by Susannah, the girl of fifteen who came in the Bounty, now an old woman of seventy-four, and blind in one eye. She displayed remarkable liveliness in honor of the Queen’s birthday, and her performance provoked mirth from the younger people, who had never seen the dance before. This old woman died in the September following, 1850, at the age of seventy-five, being the last survivor of those who came to the island from Tahiti sixty years before.
The merry players kept up the dancing to a late hour. What mattered if most of them danced with bare feet; that did not affect their light-heartedness and happiness. A drum and tambourine supplied all the music they wanted. The island boasted one fiddle, but no one considered himself sufficiently expert in the use of the bow to volunteer his services. At last the simple enjoyments of the day ended, only to linger in the memory as a bright and pleasing recollection.
The singing of the islanders had been improved as the years passed. When John Adams had the sole care of the young community, he did not neglect entirely the training of their voices, although the result was not all that could be wished. He succeeded in impressing on their memories one simple and plaintive air, which, slightly modified, was made to suit either common, short, or long meter. This was the only attempt at singing made by the islanders until Buffett came amongst them. The ninety-fifth psalm of Watts’ Version was a great favorite among the people, and that to which John Adams’ tune was oftenest sung.[4] Buffett soon sought to introduce at least a change of tunes into the services of the church, and, being gifted with a good voice, he managed, with the help of an accordion, to lead the people a few steps further on. A book of church music given him at Tahiti supplied a variety of tunes, but nothing more was attempted than the simple air. Nor were the tunes sung in unison, as the following incident will show.
[4] It was a custom with the three daughters of John Adams, even until advanced age, to meet together, and read a portion of God’s word. They would unfailingly close their devotions by singing the tune their father taught them. A stanza from the second psalm, which they always sang, found in the Scottish Bibles, seems peculiarly associated with the plaintive air. It is as follows:—
“A sure decree I will declare,—
The Lord has said to me,
‘Thou art my only Son; this day
Have I begotten thee.’”