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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.152Z
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- 7153
- text
- petticoats, and conjuring us to return to the Calabooza. After a little
debate, we acquiesced.
This interview was decisive. Sensible that none of the charges brought
against us would stand, yet unwilling formally to withdraw them, the
consul now wished to get rid of us altogether; but without being
suspected of encouraging our escape. Thus only could we account for his
conduct.
Some of the party, however, with a devotion to principle truly heroic,
swore they would never leave him, happen what might. For my own part, I
began to long for a change; and as there seemed to be no getting away
in a ship, I resolved to hit upon some other expedient. But first, I
cast about for a comrade; and of course the long doctor was chosen. We
at once laid our heads together; and for the present, resolved to
disclose nothing to the rest.
A few days previous, I had fallen in with a couple of Yankee lads,
twins, who, originally deserting their ship at Tanning’s Island (an
uninhabited spot, but exceedingly prolific in fruit of all kinds), had,
after a long residence there, roved about among the Society group. They
were last from Imeeo—the island immediately adjoining—where they had
been in the employ of two foreigners who had recently started a
plantation there. These persons, they said, had charged them to send
over from Papeetee, if they could, two white men for field-labourers.
Now, all but the prospect of digging and delving suited us exactly; but
the opportunity for leaving the island was not to be slighted; and so
we held ourselves in readiness to return with the planters; who, in a
day or two, were expected to visit Papeetee in their boat.
At the interview which ensued, we were introduced to them as Peter and
Paul; and they agreed to give Peter and Paul fifteen silver dollars a
month, promising something more should we remain with them permanently.
What they wanted was men who would stay. To elude the natives—many of
whom, not exactly understanding our relations with the consul, might
arrest us, were they to see us departing—the coming midnight was
appointed for that purpose.
When the hour drew nigh, we disclosed our intention to the rest. Some
upbraided us for deserting them; others applauded, and said that, on
the first opportunity, they would follow our example. At last, we bade
them farewell. And there would now be a serene sadness in thinking over
the scene—since we never saw them again—had not all been dashed by
M’Gee’s picking the doctor’s pocket of a jack-knife, in the very act of
embracing him.
We stole down to the beach, where, under the shadow of a grove, the
boat was waiting. After some delay, we shipped the oars, and pulling
outside of the reef, set the sail; and with a fair wind, glided away
for Imeeo.
It was a pleasant trip. The moon was up—the air, warm—the waves,
musical—and all above was the tropical night, one purple vault hung
round with soft, trembling stars.
The channel is some five leagues wide. On one hand, you have the three
great peaks of Tahiti lording it over ranges of mountains and valleys;
and on the other, the equally romantic elevations of Imeeo, high above
which a lone peak, called by our companions, “the Marling-pike,” shot
up its verdant spire.
The planters were quite sociable. They had been sea-faring men, and
this, of course, was a bond between us. To strengthen it, a flask of
wine was produced, one of several which had been procured in person
from the French admiral’s steward; for whom the planters, when on a
former visit to Papeetee, had done a good turn, by introducing the
amorous Frenchman to the ladies ashore. Besides this, they had a
calabash filled with wild boar’s meat, baked yams, bread-fruit, and
Tombez potatoes. Pipes and tobacco also were produced; and while
regaling ourselves, plenty of stories were told about the neighbouring
islands.
- title
- Chunk 2