They Treated
The Old Fellow Sacrilegiously, Digging Their Knives Into Him To See
How Hard He Was And How Deep
His mossy mantle, and commanding him to
rise up and save them trouble by walking down to the ship himself.
In lieu of which, nineteen Kanakas slung him on a frame of timbers
and toted him to the ship, where, battened down under hatches, even
now he is cleaving the South Pacific Hornward and toward Europe - the
ultimate abiding-place for all good heathen idols, save for the few
in America and one in particular who grins beside me as I write, and
who, barring shipwreck, will grin somewhere in my neighbourhood
until I die. And he will win out. He will be grinning when I am
dust.
Also, as a preliminary, we attended a feast, where one Taiara
Tamarii, the son of an Hawaiian sailor who deserted from a
whaleship, commemorated the death of his Marquesan mother by
roasting fourteen whole hogs and inviting in the village. So we
came along, welcomed by a native herald, a young girl, who stood on
a great rock and chanted the information that the banquet was made
perfect by our presence - which information she extended impartially
to every arrival. Scarcely were we seated, however, when she
changed her tune, while the company manifested intense excitement.
Her cries became eager and piercing. From a distance came answering
cries, in men's voices, which blended into a wild, barbaric chant
that sounded incredibly savage, smacking of blood and war.
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