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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
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- start_line
- 7416
- text
- of the young wild steers might be caught and trained for draught.
Zeke replied that, for such a purpose, no cattle, to his knowledge, had
ever been used in any part of Polynesia. As for the soil of Martair, so
obstructed was it with roots, crossing and recrossing each other at all
points, that no kind of a plough could be used to advantage. The heavy
Sydney hoes were the only thing for such land.
Our work was now before us; but, previous to commencing operations, I
endeavoured to engage the Yankee in a little further friendly chat
concerning the nature of virgin soils in general, and that of the
valley of Martair in particular. So masterly a stratagem made Long
Ghost brighten up; and he stood by ready to join in. But what our
friend had to say about agriculture all referred to the particular part
of his plantation upon which we stood; and having communicated enough
on this head to enable us to set to work to the best advantage, he fell
to, himself; and Shorty, who had been looking on, followed suit.
The surface, here and there, presented closely amputated branches of
what had once been a dense thicket. They seemed purposely left
projecting, as if to furnish a handle whereby to drag out the roots
beneath. After loosening the hard soil, by dint of much thumping and
pounding, the Yankee jerked one of the roots this way and that,
twisting it round and round, and then tugging at it horizontally.
“Come! lend us a hand!” he cried, at last; and running up, we all four
strained away in concert. The tough obstacle convulsed the surface with
throes and spasms; but stuck fast, notwithstanding.
“Dumn it!” cried Zeke, “we’ll have to get a rope; run to the house,
Shorty, and fetch one.”
The end of this being attached, we took plenty of room, and strained
away once more.
“Give us a song, Shorty,” said the doctor; who was rather sociable, on
a short acquaintance. Where the work to be accomplished is any way
difficult, this mode of enlivening toil is quite efficacious among
sailors. So willing to make everything as cheerful as possible, Shorty
struck up, “Were you ever in Dumbarton?” a marvellously inspiring, but
somewhat indecorous windlass chorus.
At last, the Yankee cast a damper on his enthusiasm by exclaiming, in a
pet, “Oh! dumn your singing! keep quiet, and pull away!” This we now
did, in the most uninteresting silence; until, with a jerk that made
every elbow hum, the root dragged out; and most inelegantly, we all
landed upon the ground. The doctor, quite exhausted, stayed there; and,
deluded into believing that, after so doughty a performance, we would
be allowed a cessation of toil, took off his hat, and fanned himself.
“Rayther a hard customer, that, Peter,” observed the Yankee, going up
to him: “but it’s no use for any on ’em to hang back; for I’m dumned if
they hain’t got to come out, whether or no. Hurrah! let’s get at it
agin!”
“Mercy!” ejaculated the doctor, rising slowly, and turning round.
“He’ll be the death of us!”
Falling to with our hoes again, we worked singly, or together, as
occasion required, until “Nooning Time” came.
The period, so called by the planters, embraced about three hours in
the middle of the day; during which it was so excessively hot, in this
still, brooding valley, shut out from the Trades, and only open toward
the leeward side of the island, that labour in the sun was out of the
question. To use a hyperbolical phrase of Shorty’s, “It was ’ot enough
to melt the nose h’off a brass monkey.”
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- Chunk 2