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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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- All things considered, I could not help looking upon Taloo as offering
“a splendid opening” for us adventurers. To say nothing of the
facilities presented for going to sea in the whaler, or hiring
ourselves out as day labourers in the sugar plantation, there were
hopes to be entertained of being promoted to some office of high trust
and emolument about the person of her majesty, the queen.
Nor was this expectation altogether Quixotic. In the train of many
Polynesian princes roving whites are frequently found: gentleman
pensioners of state, basking in the tropical sunshine of the court, and
leading the pleasantest lives in the world. Upon islands little visited
by foreigners the first seaman that settles down is generally
domesticated in the family of the head chief or king; where he
frequently discharges the functions of various offices, elsewhere
filled by as many different individuals. As historiographer, for
instance, he gives the natives some account of distant countries; as
commissioner of the arts and sciences, he instructs them in the use of
the jack-knife, and the best way of shaping bits of iron hoop into
spear-heads; and as interpreter to his majesty, he facilitates
intercourse with strangers; besides instructing the people generally in
the uses of the most common English phrases, civil and profane; but
oftener the latter.
These men generally marry well; often—like Hardy of Hannamanoo—into the
Wood royal.
Sometimes they officiate as personal attendant, or First Lord in
Waiting, to the king. At Amboi, one of the Tonga Islands, a vagabond
Welshman bends his knee as cupbearer to his cannibal majesty. He mixes
his morning cup of “arva,” and, with profound genuflections, presents
it in a cocoa-nut bowl, richly carved. Upon another island of the same
group, where it is customary to bestow no small pains in dressing the
hair—frizzing it out by a curious process into an enormous Pope’s
head—an old man-of-war’s-man fills the post of barber to the king. And
as his majesty is not very neat, his mop is exceedingly populous; so
that, when Jack is not engaged in dressing the head intrusted to his
charge, he busies himself in gently titillating it—a sort of skewer
being actually worn about in the patient’s hair for that special
purpose.
Even upon the Sandwich Islands a low rabble of foreigners is kept about
the person of Tammahammaha for the purpose of ministering to his ease
or enjoyment.
Billy Loon, a jolly little negro, tricked out in a soiled blue jacket,
studded all over with rusty bell buttons, and garnished with shabby
gold lace, is the royal drummer and pounder of the tambourine. Joe, a
wooden-legged Portuguese who lost his leg by a whale, is violinist; and
Mordecai, as he is called, a villainous-looking scamp, going about with
his cups and balls in a side pocket, diverts the court with his
jugglery. These idle rascals receive no fixed salary, being altogether
dependent upon the casual bounty of their master. Now and then they run
up a score at the Dance Houses in Honolulu, where the illustrious
Tammahammaha III afterwards calls and settles the bill.
A few years since an auctioneer to his majesty came near being added to
the retinue of state. It seems that he was the first man who had
practised his vocation in the Sandwich Islands; and delighted with the
sport of bidding upon his wares, the king was one of his best
customers. At last he besought the man to leave all and follow him, and
he should be handsomely provided for at court. But the auctioneer
refused; and so the ivory hammer lost the chance of being borne before
him on a velvet cushion when the next king went to be crowned.
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