- end_line
- 10653
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10578
- text
- volumes of Smollett’s novels, which had been found in the chest of a
sailor, who some time previous had died on the island.
Amelia!—Peregrine!—you hero of rogues, Count Fathom!—what a debt do we
owe you!
I know not whether it was the reading of these romances, or the want of
some sentimental pastime, which led the doctor, about this period, to
lay siege to the heart of the little Loo.
Now, as I have said before, the daughter of Po-Po was most cruelly
reserved, and never deigned to notice us. Frequently I addressed her
with a long face and an air of the profoundest and most distant
respect—but in vain; she wouldn’t even turn up her pretty olive nose.
Ah! it’s quite plain, thought I; she knows very well what graceless
dogs sailors are, and won’t have anything to do with us.
But thus thought not my comrade. Bent he was upon firing the cold
glitter of Loo’s passionless eyes.
He opened the campaign with admirable tact: making cautious approaches,
and content, for three days, with ogling the nymph for about five
minutes after every meal. On the fourth day, he asked her a question;
on the fifth, she dropped a nut of ointment, and he picked it up and
gave it to her; on the sixth, he went over and sat down within three
yards of the couch where she lay; and, on the memorable morn of the
seventh, he proceeded to open his batteries in form.
The damsel was reclining on the ferns; one hand supporting her cheek,
and the other listlessly turning over the leaves of a Tahitian Bible.
The doctor approached.
Now the chief disadvantage under which he laboured was his almost
complete ignorance of the love vocabulary of the island. But French
counts, they say, make love delightfully in broken English; and what
hindered the doctor from doing the same in dulcet Tahitian. So at it he
went.
“Ah!” said he, smiling bewitchingly, “oee mickonaree; oee ready
Biblee?”
No answer; not even a look.
“Ah I matai! very goody ready Biblee mickonaree.”
Loo, without stirring, began reading, in a low tone, to herself.
“Mickonaree Biblee ready goody maitai,” once more observed the doctor,
ingeniously transposing his words for the third time.
But all to no purpose; Loo gave no sign.
He paused, despairingly; but it would never do to give up; so he threw
himself at full length beside her, and audaciously commenced turning
over the leaves.
Loo gave a start, just one little start, barely perceptible, and then,
fumbling something in her hand, lay perfectly motionless; the doctor
rather frightened at his own temerity, and knowing not what to do next.
At last, he placed one arm cautiously about her waist; almost in the
same instant he bounded to his feet, with a cry; the little witch had
pierced him with a thorn. But there she lay, just as quietly as ever,
turning over the leaves, and reading to herself.
My long friend raised the siege incontinently, and made a disorderly
retreat to the place where I reclined, looking on.
I am pretty sure that Loo must have related this occurrence to her
father, who came in shortly afterward; for he looked queerly at the
doctor. But he said nothing; and, in ten minutes, was quite as affable
as ever. As for Loo, there was not the slightest change in her; and the
doctor, of course, for ever afterwards held his peace.
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