They always repair to the various
religious festivals, which gather great crowds. When these are
concluded, and the places where they are held vacated even by the
tattooers, scores of little tents of coarse tappa are left standing,
each with a solitary inmate, who, forbidden to talk to his unseen
neighbours, is obliged to stay there till completely healed. The
itinerants are a reproach to their profession, mere cobblers, dealing
in nothing but jagged lines and clumsy patches, and utterly incapable
of soaring to those heights of fancy attained by the gentlemen of the
faculty.
All professors of the arts love to fraternize; and so, in Hannamanoo,
the tattooers came together in the chapters of their worshipful
order. In this society, duly organized, and conferring degrees,
Hardy, from his influence as a white, was a sort of honorary Grand
Master. The blue shark, and a sort of Urim and Thummim engraven upon
his chest, were the seal of his initiation. All over Hivarhoo are
established these orders of tattooers. The way in which the renegado's
came to be founded is this. A year or two after his landing there
happened to be a season of scarcity, owing to the partial failure of
the breadfruit harvest for several consecutive seasons. This brought
about such a falling off in the number of subjects for tattooing that
the profession became quite needy. The royal ally of Hardy, however,
hit upon a benevolent expedient to provide for their wants, at the
same time conferring a boon upon many of his subjects.
By sound of conch-shell it was proclaimed before the palace, on the
beach, and at the head of the valley, that Noomai, King of
Hannamanoo, and friend of Hardee-Hardee, the white, kept open heart
and table for all tattooers whatsoever; but to entitle themselves to
this hospitality, they were commanded to practise without fee upon
the meanest native soliciting their services.
Numbers at once flocked to the royal abode, both artists and sitters.
It was a famous time; and the buildings of the palace being "taboo"
to all but the tattooers and chiefs, the sitters bivouacked on the
common, and formed an extensive encampment.
The "Lora Tattoo," or the Time of Tattooing, will be long remembered.
An enthusiastic sitter celebrated the event in verse. Several lines
were repeated to us by Hardy, some of which, in a sort of colloquial
chant he translated nearly thus:
"Where is that sound?
In Hannamanoo.
And wherefore that sound?
The sound of a hundred hammers,
Tapping, tapping, tapping
The shark teeth."
"Where is that light?
Round about the king's house,
And the small laughter?
The small, merry laughter it is
Of the sons and daughters of the tattooed."
CHAPTER IX.
WE STEER TO THE WESTWARD - STATE OF AFFAIRS
THE night we left Hannamanoo was bright and starry, and so warm that,
when the watches were relieved, most of the men, instead of going
below, flung themselves around the foremast.
