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- which they conceived had been practised upon them. To the horror of
her affectionate spouse, she was stripped of her garments, and given to
understand that she could no longer carry on her deceits with impunity.
The gentle dame was not sufficiently evangelical to endure this, and,
fearful of further improprieties, she forced her husband to relinquish
his undertaking, and together they returned to Tahiti.
Not thus shy of exhibiting her charms was the Island Queen herself, the
beauteous wife of Movianna, the king of Nukuheva. Between two and three
years after the adventures recorded in this volume, I chanced, while
aboard of a man-of-war to touch at these islands. The French had
then held possession of the Marquesas some time, and already prided
themselves upon the beneficial effects of their jurisdiction, as
discernible in the deportment of the natives. To be sure, in one of
their efforts at reform they had slaughtered about a hundred and fifty
of them at Whitihoo--but let that pass. At the time I mention, the
French squadron was rendezvousing in the bay of Nukuheva, and during an
interview between one of their captains and our worthy Commodore, it
was suggested by the former, that we, as the flag-ship of the American
squadron, should receive, in state, a visit from the royal pair. The
French officer likewise represented, with evident satisfaction, that
under their tuition the king and queen had imbibed proper notions of
their elevated station, and on all ceremonious occasions conducted
themselves with suitable dignity. Accordingly, preparations were made to
give their majesties a reception on board in a style corresponding with
their rank.
One bright afternoon, a gig, gaily bedizened with streamers, was
observed to shove off from the side of one of the French frigates, and
pull directly for our gangway. In the stern sheets reclined Mowanna and
his consort. As they approached, we paid them all the honours due to
royalty;--manning our yards, firing a salute, and making a prodigious
hubbub.
They ascended the accommodation ladder, were greeted by the Commodore,
hat in hand, and passing along the quarter-deck, the marine guard
presented arms, while the band struck up ‘The King of the Cannibal
Islands’. So far all went well. The French officers grimaced and smiled
in exceedingly high spirits, wonderfully pleased with the discreet
manner in which these distinguished personages behaved themselves.
Their appearance was certainly calculated to produce an effect. His
majesty was arrayed in a magnificent military uniform, stiff with gold
lace and embroidery, while his shaven crown was concealed by a huge
chapeau bras, waving with ostrich plumes. There was one slight blemish,
however, in his appearance. A broad patch of tattooing stretched
completely across his face, in a line with his eyes, making him look as
if he wore a huge pair of goggles; and royalty in goggles suggested some
ludicrous ideas. But it was in the adornment of the fair person of his
dark-complexioned spouse that the tailors of the fleet had evinced the
gaiety of their national taste. She was habited in a gaudy tissue of
scarlet cloth, trimmed with yellow silk, which, descending a little
below the knees, exposed to view her bare legs, embellished with spiral
tattooing, and somewhat resembling two miniature Trajan’s columns. Upon
her head was a fanciful turban of purple velvet, figured with silver
sprigs, and surmounted by a tuft of variegated feathers.
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