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- At last, the ship was at hand, and we approached with much caution,
wishing to avoid being hailed by anyone from the quarter-deck. Dropping
silently under her bows, we heard a low whistle—the signal agreed
upon—and presently a goodly-sized bag was lowered over to us.
We cut the line, and then paddled away as fast as we could, and made
the best of our way home. Here, we found the rest waiting impatiently.
The bag turned out to be well filled with sweet potatoes boiled, cubes
of salt beef and pork, and a famous sailors’ pudding, what they call
“duff,” made of flour and water, and of about the consistence of an
underdone brick. With these delicacies, and keen appetites, we went out
into the moonlight, and had a nocturnal picnic.
CHAPTER XLII.
MOTOO-OTOO A TAHITIAN CASUIST
The Pill Box was sometimes employed for other purposes than that
described in the last chapter. We sometimes went a-pleasuring in it.
Right in the middle of Papeetee harbour is a bright, green island, one
circular grove of waving palms, and scarcely a hundred yards across. It
is of coral formation; and all round, for many rods out, the bay is so
shallow that you might wade anywhere. Down in these waters, as
transparent as air, you see coral plants of every hue and shape
imaginable:—antlers, tufts of azure, waving reeds like stalks of grain,
and pale green buds and mosses. In some places, you look through
prickly branches down to a snow-white floor of sand, sprouting with
flinty bulbs; and crawling among these are strange shapes:—some
bristling with spikes, others clad in shining coats of mail, and here
and there, round forms all spangled with eyes.
The island is called Hotoo-Otoo; and around Hotoo-Otoo have I often
paddled of a white moonlight night, pausing now and then to admire the
marine gardens beneath.
The place is the private property of the queen, who has a residence
there—a melancholy-looking range of bamboo houses—neglected and falling
to decay among the trees.
Commanding the harbour as it does, her majesty has done all she could
to make a fortress of the island. The margin has been raised and
levelled, and built up with a low parapet of hewn Hocks of coral.
Behind the parapet are ranged, at wide intervals, a number of rusty old
cannon, of all fashions and calibres. They are mounted upon lame,
decrepit-looking carriages, ready to sink under the useless burden of
bearing them up. Indeed, two or three have given up the ghost
altogether, and the pieces they sustained lie half buried among their
bleaching bones. Several of the cannon are spiked; probably with a view
of making them more formidable; as they certainly must be to anyone
undertaking to fire them off.
Presented to Pomaree at various times by captains of British armed
ships, these poor old “dogs of war,” thus toothless and turned out to
die, formerly bayed in full pack as the battle-hounds of Old England.
There was something about Hotoo-Otoo that struck my fancy; and I
registered a vow to plant my foot upon its soil, notwithstanding an old
bareheaded sentry menaced me in the moonlight with an unsightly musket.
As my canoe drew scarcely three inches of water, I could paddle close
up to the parapet without grounding; but every time I came near, the
old man ran toward me, pushing his piece forward, but never clapping it
to his shoulder. Thinking he only meant to frighten me, I at last
dashed the canoe right up to the wall, purposing a leap. It was the
rashest act of my life; for never did cocoa-nut come nearer getting
demolished than mine did then. With the stock of his gun, the old
warder fetched a tremendous blow, which I managed to dodge; and then
falling back, succeeded in paddling out of harm’s reach.
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