I asked him one day how old he was. "Olee?" he exclaimed, looking very
profound in consequence of thoroughly understanding so subtile a
question - "Oh! very olee - 'tousand 'ear - more - big man when Capin
Tootee (Captain Cook) heavey in sight." (In sea parlance, came into
view.)
This was a thing impossible; but adapting my discourse to the man, I
rejoined - "Ah! you see Capin Tootee - well, how you like him?"
"Oh! he maitai: (good) friend of me, and know my wife."
On my assuring him strongly that he could not have been born at the
time, he explained himself by saying that he was speaking of his
father, all the while. This, indeed, might very well have been.
It is a curious fact that all these people, young and old, will tell
you that they have enjoyed the honour of a personal acquaintance with
the great navigator; and if you listen to them, they will go on and
tell anecdotes without end. This springs from nothing but their great
desire to please; well knowing that a more agreeable topic for a
white man could not be selected. As for the anachronism of the thing,
they seem to have no idea of it:
