- end_line
- 11048
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:25.206Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10978
- text
- This old woman, the sailor afterwards said, was the wife of an aged king
of a small island valley, communicating by a deep pass with the country
of the Typees. The inmates of the two valleys were related to each other
by blood, and were known by the same name. The old woman had gone down
into the Typee valley the day before, and was now with three chiefs, her
sons, on a visit to her kinsmen.
As the old king’s wife left him, Jimmy again came up to Toby, and told
him that he had just talked the whole matter over with the natives, and
there was only one course for him to follow. They would not allow him to
go back into the valley, and harm would certainly come to both him and
me, if he remained much longer on the beach. ‘So,’ said he, ‘you and I
had better go to Nukuheva now overland, and tomorrow I will bring Tommo,
as they call him, by water; they have promised to carry him down to the
sea for me early in the morning, so that there will be no delay.’
‘No, no,’ said Toby desperately, ‘I will not leave him that way; we must
escape together.’
‘Then there is no hope for you,’ exclaimed the sailor, ‘for if I leave
you here on the beach, as soon as I am gone you will be carried back
into the valley, and then neither of you will ever look upon the
sea again.’ And with many oaths he swore that if he would only go to
Nukuheva with him that day, he would be sure to have me there the very
next morning.
‘But how do you know they will bring him down to the beach tomorrow,
when they will not do so today?’ said Toby. But the sailor had many
reasons, all of which were so mixed up with the mysterious customs
of the islanders, that he was none the wiser. Indeed, their conduct,
especially in preventing him from returning into the valley, was
absolutely unaccountable to him; and added to everything else, was the
bitter reflection, that the old sailor, after all, might possibly be
deceiving him. And then again he had to think of me, left alone with the
natives, and by no means well. If he went with Jimmy, he might at least
hope to procure some relief for me. But might not the savages who had
acted so strangely, hurry me off somewhere before his return? Then, even
if he remained, perhaps they would not let him go back into the valley
where I was.
Thus perplexed was my poor comrade; he knew not what to do, and his
courageous spirit was of no use to him now. There he was, all by
himself, seated upon the broken canoe--the natives grouped around him at
a distance, and eyeing him more and more fixedly. ‘It is getting late:
said Jimmy, who was standing behind the rest. ‘Nukuheva is far off, and
I cannot cross the Happar country by night. You see how it is;--if you
come along with me, all will be well; if you do not, depend upon it,
neither of you will ever escape.’
‘There is no help for it,’ said Toby, at last, with a heavy heart, ‘I
will have to trust you,’ and he came out from the shadow of the little
shrine, and cast a long look up the valley.
‘Now keep close to my side,’ said the sailor, ‘and let us be moving
quickly.’ Tinor and Fayaway here appeared; the kindhearted old woman
embracing Toby’s knees, and giving way to a flood of tears; while
Fayaway, hardly less moved, spoke some few words of English she had
learned, and held up three fingers before him--in so many days he would
return.
At last Jimmy pulled Toby out of the crowd, and after calling to a
young Typee who was standing by with a young pig in his arms, all three
started for the mountains.
‘I have told them that you are coming back again,’ said the old fellow,
laughing, as they began the ascent, ‘but they’ll have to wait a long
time.’ Toby turned, and saw the natives all in motion--the girls waving
their tappas in adieu, and the men their spears. As the last figure
entered the grove with one arm raised, and the three fingers spread, his
heart smote him.
- title
- Chunk 5