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- 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.
At last we heard the roar of the Imeeo reef; and gliding through a
break, floated over the expanse within, which was smooth as a young
girl’s brow, and beached the boat.
CHAPTER LII.
THE VALLEY OF MARTAIR
We went up through groves to an open space, where we heard voices, and
a light was seen glimmering from out a bamboo dwelling. It was the
planters’ retreat; and in their absence, several girls were keeping
house, assisted by an old native, who, wrapped up in tappa, lay in the
corner, smoking.
A hasty meal was prepared, and after it we essayed a nap; but, alas! a
plague, little anticipated, prevented. Unknown in Tahiti, the
mosquitoes here fairly eddied round us. But more of them anon.
We were up betimes, and strolled out to view the country. We were in
the valley of Martair; shut in, on both sides, by lofty hills. Here and
there were steep cliffs, gay with flowering shrubs, or hung with
pendulous vines, swinging blossoms in the air. Of considerable width at
the sea, the vale contracts as it runs inland; terminating, at the
distance of several miles, in a range of the most grotesque elevations,
which seem embattled with turrets and towers, grown over with verdure,
and waving with trees. The valley itself is a wilderness of woodland;
with links of streams flashing through, and narrow pathways fairly
tunnelled through masses of foliage.
All alone, in this wild place, was the abode of the planters; the only
one back from the beach—their sole neighbours, the few fishermen and
their families, dwelling in a small grove of cocoa-nut trees whose
roots were washed by the sea.
The cleared tract which they occupied comprised some thirty acres,
level as a prairie, part of which was under cultivation; the whole
being fenced in by a stout palisade of trunks and boughs of trees
staked firmly in the ground. This was necessary as a defence against
the wild cattle and hogs overrunning the island.
Thus far, Tombez potatoes were the principal crop raised; a ready sale
for them being obtained among the shipping touching at Papeetee. There
was a small patch of the taro, or Indian turnip, also; another of yams;
and in one corner, a thrifty growth of the sugar-cane, just ripening.
On the side of the inclosure next the sea was the house; newly built of
bamboos, in the native style. The furniture consisted of a couple of
sea-chests, an old box, a few cooking utensils, and agricultural tools;
together with three fowling-pieces, hanging from a rafter; and two
enormous hammocks swinging in opposite corners, and composed of dried
bullocks’ hides, stretched out with poles.
The whole plantation was shut in by a dense forest; and, close by the
house, a dwarfed “Aoa,” or species of banian-tree, had purposely been
left twisting over the palisade, in the most grotesque manner, and thus
made a pleasant shade. The branches of this curious tree afforded low
perches, upon which the natives frequently squatted, after the fashion
of their race, and smoked and gossiped by the hour.
We had a good breakfast of fish—speared by the natives, before sunrise,
on the reef—pudding of Indian turnip, fried bananas, and roasted
bread-fruit.
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