A Voyage round the World / A book for boys

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We know very little of the history of the island. Soon after its discovery, a chief, who assumed the title of Pomare the First, made himself king. His son, and then his grandson, succeeded him, and the present queen is his granddaughter; her name is Aimata, but she has taken the title of Pomare the Fourth. She has established a constitution, and seven chiefs act as her ministers. For many years both the chiefs and people have professed Christianity, having been converted to a knowledge of the truth by Protestant missionaries. These missionaries were undoubtedly earnest, pious men, but they have been unable altogether to check the vices which the lawless rovers, outcasts of every civilised nation in the world, have introduced among them. Notwithstanding the counteracting influences I have mentioned, civilisation was making progress in the island, under the teaching of the Protestant missionaries, when the peace was disturbed by the arrival of two French Roman Catholic priests. They travelled about the country endeavouring to teach their doctrines, but in no place did they find willing hearers. A few chiefs who were in opposition to the Government for political motives, gave them some countenance, and they were entertained at the house of the American consul. The people, however, resolved that they should not remain to attempt the corruption of the faith in which they had been instructed, and rising in a body, compelled them to go on board a small vessel, which carried them to Wallis Island, two thousand miles off. The French who had long desired the possession of some island in the Pacific inhabited by partly civilised people, were too glad to found a pretext on this circumstance for interfering in the affairs of Tahiti. A frigate, the Venus, commanded by Monsieur Du Petit Thouars, entered the harbour of Papieti. The French, captain, bringing his guns to bear on the town, demanded satisfaction for the outrage committed on his countrymen. The queen was inclined to resist, but the foreign inhabitants, knowing that they should be the chief sufferers, collected the amount demanded, which was at least four times as much as any pecuniary loss the priests had incurred. He also forced a treaty on the queen, by which Frenchmen were allowed to visit the island at pleasure, to erect churches, and to practise their religion. This was the commencement of the complete subjugation of the Tahitians to the French. So much for the history of the island.

The valleys, and a plain which extends from the sea-shore to the spurs of the mountains, are very fertile, and produce in great abundance all tropical plants. The climate is warm, but not enervating; the scenery is in many parts very beautiful. Thus the natives are tempted to lead an easy and idle life, exerting but little their physical and mental powers. It is, indeed, to their credit that they do not altogether abandon themselves to indolence. They are by nature constituted to enjoy the beautiful scenes by which they are surrounded. Consequently, they delight in building their cottages in the most retired and lovely spots they can find. Their habitations are surrounded with fences, inside which they cultivate the taro, and sweet potatoes, the banana, the bread-fruit, the vi-apple, groves of orange and cocoa-nut trees, and at times the sugar-cane. Their habitations are of an oval shape, often fifty or sixty feet long, and twenty wide. They are formed of bamboos, planted about an inch apart in the ground. At the top of each wall thus formed, a piece of the hibiscus, a strong and light wood, is lashed with plaited rope. From the top of the four walls the rafters rise and meet in a ridge, those from the ends sloping like those from the sides. The rafters, which touch each other, are covered with small mats of the pandanus leaf, which, closely fitted together and lapping over each other, forms a durable roof, impervious to the rain. The earth, beaten hard, forms the floor. There are no regular partitions, but mats serve the purpose when required. Their bedsteads are made of a framework of cane raised two feet from the ground, and covered with mats, the most luxurious using pillows stuffed with aromatic herbs. They have neither tables nor chairs. Their style of cooking is very simple: they bake their food in extemporised ovens filled with hot stones. Since my return I have often intended to propose having a picnic, and to cook all our food in Tahitian fashion. The dress of the people is undergoing a rapid and considerable change. Formerly a native cloak and kilt was all that was thought necessary; now every sort of European clothing is in vogue. We had an example of this at a feast our English friend gave to a number of chiefs and their relations. Some of the gentlemen had on uniform coats, with nankeen trousers too short for them, and coloured slippers. Others had top-boots, red shirts, black breeches, sailors’ round jackets, and cocked hats. Some had high shoes and buckles, and others had no shoes at all; but all had shirts and trousers, or breeches. Some, indeed, were in complete costume: shoes, stockings, trousers, waistcoat, coat, shirt, with a huge neck-tie—every garment of a different colour, and often too large or too small—while a little straw hat was worn on the top of the head. Indeed, it was very evident that their clothes had been collected from all parts of the world, many garments probably having passed a probation in pawnbrokers’ shops, or in those of old clothes-men in London or Liverpool. I was particularly struck by the total want of perception of congruity as to dress exhibited both by men and women after they had abandoned their native costume, which, if somewhat scanty, was graceful and adapted to the climate. The women we saw were dressed in straw bonnets of huge proportions and ugly shape, and loose gowns of gay colours reaching from the throat to the ankles, with silk handkerchiefs tied round their necks. A few wore wreaths of flowers round their heads, which formed a picturesque part of their ancient costume. The people are said to be very honest, and always seemed in good-humour, happy and cheerful, while we never saw them quarrelling or disputing with each other, far less coming to blows. Many of them are scrupulous in their attendance on religious worship; the Sabbath is strictly kept by all, not even a boat being launched, while those who are seen abroad are decently clothed, going to or coming from church. What change French civilisation may have worked in this state of things it is painful to reflect. We visited several schools, and except that their skins were darker, the appearance of the children differed little from that of the same class in any part of Europe, while they appeared in no way wanting in intelligence. In fact, from all we saw and heard, we came to the conclusion that the inhabitants of the islands of Polynesia are generally as capable of a high state of education and civilisation as the people of any other race, while their minds are peculiarly susceptible of religious instruction. Our fellow-voyagers afforded us a good example of this. We much regretted that we could not converse familiarly with them. Our missionary friend had especially won our regard and esteem.

They were now anxious to return to their own island, the season of the year being favourable for the voyage. It was with much regret that we heard of their intended departure. With a large concourse of natives and several English missionaries, we accompanied them down to the beach to see them off. Prayers were offered up by all present for their safety during their voyage. It was an impressive and affecting scene. Many wept as the fine old chief and his friends stepped on board. He could scarcely refrain from tears, nor could we. The frail canoe was launched forth into the deep, the sail was hoisted, and away they went on a voyage of three hundred miles, with full faith that the God who had hitherto preserved them would watch over them still.

We did not at the moment believe that our departure was so near. The next day the Matchless, a Liverpool whaler, arrived in the harbour of Papieti. We met her master, Captain Brown, who told us that he was bound for the coast of Japan, and that he should touch at the Bonin Islands, and probably fish off there some time. At this latter place we knew that Captain Frankland fully intended to call. How much his plans might be changed by our supposed loss we could not tell, but at all events we could not hope for a better opportunity of falling in again with the Triton. Captain Brown had lost several of his people,—some by sickness, others in a gale, and others by desertion. Hearing this, Mr Brand offered his own and our services as far as the Bonin Islands, or for a longer period, should we gain no account of our own ship. They were without hesitation accepted. The Matchless remained but a few days, having called in merely to obtain water and a supply of fresh provisions. Our kind English friend, not content with having supported us all the time we remained at Tahiti, insisted on supplying us with as good an outfit as he could procure in the country. When we expressed our gratitude and unwillingness to be so great a burden on him, he smiled. “What is the use of property, unless to do good with it?” he remarked. “Do not say a word about the matter. When you reach home, should the obligation weigh too heavily on your conscience, you can send me back the value; but I then shall be the loser, as it will show me that you will not believe in the friendship which induces me to bestow these trifles as a gift.” After this very kind speech we could do no more than sincerely and cordially thank him. The day before we embarked, he told us that he had been making inquiries about Captain Brown. “I would rather that you had another man to sail with,” he observed. “He is a person with two countenances, I am afraid. On shore he is mild, and obliging, and well-behaved; but afloat he is, I am told, tyrannical and passionate, and often addicted to intemperance. You will, accordingly, be on your guard. You will probably remain only a few weeks with him, or I should advise you to give up the voyage, and wait for another opportunity of going westward.” This was not pleasant news, but we resolved on no account to delay our departure, and, thanking our friend for his warning, as well as for all the kindness we had received at his hands, we the next day went on board the Matchless.

She was a fine vessel, and well-found with boats and gear. How great a contrast did she offer to the frail canoe in which we had lately made so long a voyage! How strongly built and rigged! How well calculated to stand the buffeting of the winds and waves! How impossible did it seem that any harm could come to her! I felt this, I own, as I walked her deck. She had already taken twenty whales, or fish, as sailors wrongly call them. For some time Captain Brown was very civil and good-natured, and we began to hope that our friend had received a wrong account of him.

Although we did not expect to meet with whales, men were always kept at the mast-heads on the look-out. I shall not forget the excitement of the scene when, after we had been a week at sea, the cry was uttered from aloft, “There she spouts! there she spouts!” In an instant everybody was alert. “Where away? where away?” was asked. The point where the whale had appeared was indicated. The boats were lowered; the crews leaped into them. The master went in one, two mates in others. Off they pulled in hot chase. The whale sounded; the men lay on their oars. In half an hour she rose again, throwing up a jet of sparkling foam into the air. Again the boats dashed on. The master’s headed the rest. His harpoon struck the monster. One of the other boats got fast directly after. Then off went the whale at a terrific speed, dragging the boats after her directly away from the ship. Now she sounded, and all their lines were run out; but just as they would have to cut, up she came again. We followed under all sail.

The day was drawing to a close when another whale was seen floating idly close to us. The possibility of obtaining another rich prize was not to be lost. Mr Brand had served for three years in a whaler, and was now doing duty as mate. He ordered a boat to be manned. Jerry and I entreated that we might accompany him. “One only can go,” he answered; “I am very sorry.” The lot fell upon me. Jerry was never jealous. “Old Surley and I will take care of each other,”

he answered. Away we went. A long, low island was in sight from the mast-head. The other boats could nowhere be seen. We got up to the whale before she sounded. I fancy she was asleep. The harpoon Mr Brand shot into her awakened her up. Off she went in the direction of the land, at a great rate. I wished Jerry had been with us. It was so pleasant to be dragged along at so furious a rate, the foam flying over the bows of the boat. Formerly harpoons were always darted by the hand. Now fire-arms are used. The butt of the harpoon is placed in the barrel, and the rope is attached to it by a chain. Less skill and strength is required to strike the whale, but just as much skill and experience is requisite to avoid being struck in return and smashed to atoms by the wounded animal. Whenever the whale slackened her speed, we hauled up in the hope of getting another harpoon into her, but she was soon off again; then she sounded, and we were nearly losing our line. Again she rose; a second harpoon was run into her. Off she was again. At length blood mingled with the foam from her spouts. With fury she lashed the water around. “Back! back for your lives!” shouted Mr Brand. Well it was that we got out of her way in time. One blow from those tremendous flukes would have destroyed us.

Loudly we shouted as the monster lay an inanimate mass on the surface of the deep. Then we looked about us. We had approached close to the island, but darkness was settling down over the face of the waters. The ship was not to be seen. Clouds were gathering thickly in the sky. A gale, we feared, was brewing. Our safest plan was to lie by all night under the lee of the whale. The wind came from the very direction where we believed the ship to be. We should never be able to pull against it. We had got out our harpoons from the dead whale, and were putting our gear in order, when, just as we were going to make fast to it, the huge mass sunk from our sight! We looked at each other with blank disappointment. It was gone—there can be no doubt about it, and was utterly irrecoverable. “Don’t grumble, my lads. We should have been worse off had we been fast to it with a gale blowing, and unable to cut ourselves adrift,” exclaimed Mr Brand. “Let us thank the Almighty that we have escaped so great a danger. We’ll run under the lee of that island for the night, and try and find the ship in the morning.” Accordingly we bore away, and were in a short time in comparatively smooth water. Still the weather looked very threatening. We pulled in close to the breakers. “Harry,” said Cousin Silas, “I think we should know that island. I see an opening in the breakers, and a clump of trees on it which seems familiar to my eyes. We shall be better off on shore than here. I will take the boat in.” The men were somewhat astonished when they received the order to pull in for the land. We exactly hit the passage, and soon had the boat hauled up on the beach. “We will have a roof over our heads to-night, lads,” said Cousin Silas, leading the way, and in a quarter of an hour we were seated under the shelter of the hut where we had lived for so many months! It was strange that we had so unexpectedly fallen in with our own island again.