When I Was Ready To
Dress, I Had A Hundred Yards' Walk On The Bank Before I Could Reach
My Clothes.
At the first step, fully ten thousand nau-naus landed
upon me.
At the second step I was walking in a cloud. By the third
step the sun was dimmed in the sky. After that I don't know what
happened. When I arrived at my clothes, I was a maniac. And here
enters my grand tactical error. There is only one rule of conduct
in dealing with nau-naus. Never swat them. Whatever you do, don't
swat them. They are so vicious that in the instant of annihilation
they eject their last atom of poison into your carcass. You must
pluck them delicately, between thumb and forefinger, and persuade
them gently to remove their proboscides from your quivering flesh.
It is like pulling teeth. But the difficulty was that the teeth
sprouted faster than I could pull them, so I swatted, and, so doing,
filled myself full with their poison. This was a week ago. At the
present moment I resemble a sadly neglected smallpox convalescent.
Ho-o-u-mi is a small valley, separated from Typee by a low ridge,
and thither we started when we had knocked our indomitable and
insatiable riding-animals into submission. As it was, Warren's
mount, after a mile run, selected the most dangerous part of the
trail for an exhibition that kept us all on the anxious seat for
fully five minutes.
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