- description
- # CHAPTER XLIII. ONE IS JUDGED BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS
## Overview
This is a chapter from the novel [Omoo: Adventures in the South Seas](arke:01KG8AJ7VM7B8YZ2568YF8PQ5J) by Herman Melville. The chapter, titled "CHAPTER XLIII. ONE IS JUDGED BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS," recounts the narrator's experiences with social prejudice in Tahiti. It was extracted from the source file [omoo.txt](arke:01KG89J1H7Y803CZ7X80F0QFHZ) and is part of the [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection.
## Context
The chapter is positioned between [CHAPTER XLII. MOTOO-OTOO A TAHITIAN CASUIST](arke:01KG8AJK7BX2GF7K9R1H40PHYG) and [CHAPTER XLIV. CATHEDRAL OF PAPOAR—THE CHURCH OF THE COCOA-NUTS](arke:01KG8AJK7HSRQYKTR9AQ3B6S2Z) within the novel.
## Contents
In this chapter, the narrator describes the social isolation experienced by the sailors at Captain Bob's in Tahiti. Shunned by the "respectably-dressed Europeans" due to the negative perception fostered by the consul and others, the narrator recounts an incident where he attempts to greet a missionary's wife and daughter, only to be met with screams and near-fainting. This experience highlights the narrator's sensitivity to social judgment and the challenges of maintaining dignity in his current circumstances.
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- CHAPTER XLIII. ONE IS JUDGED BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS
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- CHAPTER XLIII.
ONE IS JUDGED BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS
Altough, from its novelty, life at Captain Bob’s was pleasant enough,
for the time; there were some few annoyances connected with it anything
but agreeable to a “soul of sensibility.”
Prejudiced against us by the malevolent representations of the consul
and others, many worthy foreigners ashore regarded us as a set of
lawless vagabonds; though, truth to speak, better behaved sailors never
stepped on the island, nor any who gave less trouble to the natives.
But, for all this, whenever we met a respectably-dressed European, ten
to one he shunned us by going over to the other side of the road. This
was very unpleasant, at least to myself; though, certes, it did not
prey upon the minds of the others.
To give an instance.
Of a fine evening in Tahiti—but they are all fine evenings there—you
may see a bevy of silk bonnets and parasols passing along the Broom
Road: perhaps a band of pale, little white urchins—sickly exotics—and,
oftener still, sedate, elderly gentlemen, with canes; at whose
appearance the natives, here and there, slink into their huts. These
are the missionaries, their wives, and children, taking a family
airing. Sometimes, by the bye, they take horse, and ride down to Point
Venus and back; a distance of several miles. At this place is settled
the only survivor of the first missionaries that landed—an old,
white-headed, saint-like man, by the name of Wilson, the father of our
friend, the consul.
The little parties on foot were frequently encountered; and, recalling,
as they did, so many pleasant recollections of home and the ladies, I
really longed for a dress coat and beaver that I might step up and pay
my respects. But, situated as I was, this was out of the question. On
one occasion, however, I received a kind, inquisitive glance from a
matron in gingham. Sweet lady! I have not forgotten her: her gown was a
plaid.
But a glance, like hers, was not always bestowed.
One evening, passing the verandah of a missionary’s dwelling, the dame,
his wife, and a pretty, blonde young girl, with ringlets, were sitting
there, enjoying the sea-breeze, then coming in, all cool and
refreshing, from the spray of the reef. As I approached, the old lady
peered hard at me; and her very cap seemed to convey a prim rebuke. The
blue, English eyes, by her side, were also bent on me. But, oh Heavens!
what a glance to receive from such a beautiful creature! As for the mob
cap, not a fig did I care for it; but, to be taken for anything but a
cavalier, by the ringleted one, was absolutely unendurable.
I resolved on a courteous salute, to show my good-breeding, if nothing
more. But, happening to wear a sort of turban—hereafter to be
particularly alluded to—there was no taking it off and putting it on
again with anything like dignity. At any rate, then, here goes a how.
But, another difficulty presented itself; my loose frock was so
voluminous that I doubted whether any spinal curvature would be
perceptible.
“Good evening, ladies,” exclaimed I, at last, advancing winningly; “a
delightful air from the sea, ladies.”
Hysterics and hartshorn! who would have thought it? The young lady
screamed, and the old one came near fainting. As for myself, I
retreated in double-quick time; and scarcely drew breath until safely
housed in the Calabooza.
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- CHAPTER XLIII. ONE IS JUDGED BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS