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- 3559
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- 3486
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- which ships enter, and glide down the smooth, deep canal, between the
reef and the shore, to the harbour. But, by seamen generally, the
leeward entrance is preferred, as the wind is extremely variable inside
the reef. This latter entrance is a break in the barrier directly
facing the bay and village of Papeetee. It is very narrow; and from the
baffling winds, currents, and sunken rocks, ships now and then grate
their keels against the coral.
But the mate was not to be daunted; so, stationing what men he had at
the braces, he sprang upon the bulwarks, and, bidding everybody keep
wide awake, ordered the helm up. In a few moments, we were running in.
Being toward noon, the wind was fast leaving us, and, by the time the
breakers were roaring on either hand, little more than steerage-way was
left. But on we glided—smoothly and deftly; avoiding the green,
darkling objects here and there strewn in our path; Jermin occasionally
looking down in the water, and then about him, with the utmost
calmness, and not a word spoken. Just fanned along thus, it was not
many minutes ere we were past all danger, and floated into the placid
basin within. This was the cleverest specimen of his seamanship that he
ever gave us.
As we held on toward the frigate and shipping, a canoe, coming out from
among them, approached. In it were a boy and an old man—both islanders;
the former nearly naked, and the latter dressed in an old naval
frock-coat. Both were paddling with might and main; the old man, once
in a while, tearing his paddle out of the water; and, after rapping his
companion over the head, both fell to with fresh vigour. As they came
within hail, the old fellow, springing to his feet and flourishing his
paddle, cut some of the queerest capers; all the while jabbering
something which at first we could not understand.
Presently we made out the following:—“Ah! you pemi, ah!—you come!—What
for you come?—You be fine for come no pilot.—I say, you hear?—I say,
you ita maitui (no good).—You hear?—You no pilot.—Yes, you d—— me, you
no pilot ’t all; I d—— you; you hear?”
This tirade, which showed plainly that, whatever the profane old rascal
was at, he was in right good earnest, produced peals of laughter from
the ship. Upon which, he seemed to get beside himself; and the boy,
who, with suspended paddle, was staring about him, received a sound box
over the head, which set him to work in a twinkling, and brought the
canoe quite near. The orator now opening afresh, it turned out that his
vehement rhetoric was all addressed to the mate, still standing
conspicuously on the bulwarks.
But Jermin was in no humour for nonsense; so, with a sailor’s blessing,
he ordered him off. The old fellow then flew into a regular frenzy,
cursing and swearing worse than any civilized being I ever heard.
“You sabbee me?” he shouted. “You know me, ah? Well; me Jim, me
pilot—been pilot now long time.”
“Ay,” cried Jermin, quite surprised, as indeed we all were, “you are
the pilot, then, you old pagan. Why didn’t you come off before this?”
“Ah! me scibbee,—me know—you piratee (pirate)—see you long time, but no
me come—I sabbee you—you ita maitai nuee (superlatively bad).”
“Paddle away with ye,” roared Jermin, in a rage; “be off! or I’ll dart
a harpoon at ye!”
But, instead of obeying the order, Jim, seizing his paddle, darted the
canoe right up to the gangway, and, in two bounds, stood on deck.
Pulling a greasy silk handkerchief still lower over his brow, and
improving the sit of his frock-coat with a vigorous jerk, he then
strode up to the mate; and, in a more flowery style than ever, gave him
to understand that the redoubtable “Jim,” himself, was before him; that
the ship was his until the anchor was down; and he should like to hear
what anyone had to say to it.
As there now seemed little doubt that he was all he claimed to be, the
Julia was at last surrendered.
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