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- 4100
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- start_line
- 4034
- text
- and crave permission to return to duty, it would not now be permitted.
“Oh! get along with your gammon, counsellor,” exclaimed Black Dan,
absolutely indignant that his understanding should be thus insulted.
Quite enraged, Wilson bade him hold his peace; and then, summoning a
fat old native to his side, addressed him in Tahitian, giving
directions for leading us away to a place of safe keeping.
Hereupon, being marshalled in order, with the old man at our head, we
were put in motion, with loud shouts, along a fine pathway, running far
on through wide groves of the cocoa-nut and bread-fruit.
The rest of our escort trotted on beside us in high good-humour;
jabbering broken English, and in a hundred ways giving us to understand
that Wilson was no favourite of theirs, and that we were prime, good
fellows for holding out as we did. They seemed to know our whole
history.
The scenery around was delightful. The tropical day was fast drawing to
a close; and from where we were, the sun looked like a vast red fire
burning in the woodlands—its rays falling aslant through the endless
ranks of trees, and every leaf fringed with flame. Escaped from the
confined decks of the frigate, the air breathed spices to us; streams
were heard flowing; green boughs were rocking; and far inland, all
sunset flushed, rose the still, steep peaks of the island.
As we proceeded, I was more and more struck by the picturesqueness of
the wide, shaded road. In several places, durable bridges of wood were
thrown over large water-courses; others were spanned by a single arch
of stone. In any part of the road, three horsemen might have ridden
abreast.
This beautiful avenue—by far the best thing which civilization has done
for the island—is called by foreigners “the Broom Road,” though for
what reason I do not know. Originally planned for the convenience of
the missionaries journeying from one station to another, it almost
completely encompasses the larger peninsula; skirting for a distance of
at least sixty miles along the low, fertile lands bordering the sea.
But on the side next Taiarboo, or the lesser peninsula, it sweeps
through a narrow, secluded valley, and thus crosses the island in that
direction.
The uninhabited interior, being almost impenetrable from the
densely-wooded glens, frightful precipices, and sharp mountain ridges
absolutely inaccessible, is but little known, even to the natives
themselves; and so, instead of striking directly across from one
village to another, they follow the Broom Road round and round.
It is by no means, however, altogether travelled on foot; horses being
now quite plentiful. They were introduced from Chili; and possessing
all the gaiety, fleetness, and docility of the Spanish breed, are
admirably adapted to the tastes of the higher classes, who as
equestrians have become very expert. The missionaries and chiefs never
think of journeying except in the saddle; and at all hours of the day
you see the latter galloping along at full speed. Like the Sandwich
Islanders, they ride like Pawnee-Loups.
For miles and miles I have travelled the Broom Road, and never wearied
of the continual change of scenery. But wherever it leads you—whether
through level woods, across grassy glens, or over hills waving with
palms—the bright blue sea on one side, and the green mountain pinnacles
on the other, are always in sight.
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