- end_line
- 9200
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9136
- text
- old couple, locked in each other’s arms, and rolled together in a tappa
mantle.
“Halloa! Darby!” he cried, shaking the one with a beard. But Darby
heeded him not; though Joan, a wrinkled old body, started up in
affright, and yelled aloud. Neither of us attempting to gag her, she
presently became quiet; and, after staring hard and asking some
unintelligible questions, she proceeded to rouse her still slumbering
mate.
What ailed him we could not tell; but there was no waking him. Equally
in vain were all his dear spouse’s cuffs, pinches, and other
endearments; he lay like a log, face up, snoring away like a cavalry
trumpeter.
“Here, my good woman,” said Long Ghost, “just let me try”; and, taking
the patient right by his nose, he so lifted him bodily into a sitting
position, and held him there until his eyes opened. When this event
came to pass, Darby looked round like one stupefied; and then,
springing to his feet, backed away into a corner, from which place we
became the objects of his earnest and respectful attention.
“Permit me, my dear Darby, to introduce to you my esteemed friend and
comrade, Paul,” said the doctor, gallanting me up with all the grimace
and flourish imaginable. Upon this, Darby began to recover his
faculties, and surprised us not a little by talking a few words of
English. So far as could be understood, they were expressive of his
having been aware that there were two “karhowrees” in the
neighbourhood; that he was glad to see us, and would have something for
us to eat in no time.
How he came by his English was explained to us before we left. Some
time previous, he had been a denizen of Papeetee, where the native
language is broidered over with the most classic sailor phrases. He
seemed to be quite proud of his residence there; and alluded to it in
the same significant way in which a provincial informs you that in his
time he has resided in the capital. The old fellow was disposed to be
garrulous; but being sharp-set, we told him to get breakfast; after
which we would hear his anecdotes. While employed among the calabashes,
the strange, antiquated fondness between these old semi-savages was
really amusing. I made no doubt that they were saying to each other,
“yes, my love”—“no, my life,” just in the same way that some young
couples do, at home.
They gave us a hearty meal; and while we were discussing its merits,
they assured us, over and over again, that they expected nothing in
return for their attentions; more: we were at liberty to stay as long
as we pleased; and as long as we did stay, their house and everything
they had was no longer theirs, but ours; still more: they themselves
were our slaves—the old lady, to a degree that was altogether
superfluous. This, now, is Tahitian hospitality! Self-immolation upon
one’s own hearthstone for the benefit of the guest.
The Polynesians carry their hospitality to an amazing extent. Let a
native of Waiurar, the westernmost part of Tahiti, make his appearance
as a traveller at Partoowye, the most easterly village of Imeeo; though
a perfect stranger, the inhabitants on all sides accost him at their
doorways, inviting him to enter, and make himself at home. But the
traveller passes on, examining every house attentively; until, at last,
he pauses before one which suits him, and then exclaiming, “ah, eda
maitai” (this one will do, I think), he steps in, and makes himself
perfectly at ease; flinging himself upon the mats, and very probably
calling for a nice young cocoa-nut, and a piece of toasted breadfruit,
sliced thin, and done brown.
- title
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