- end_line
- 4063
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:25.200Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3999
- text
- when I owe perhaps to his unremitting attentions the very existence I
now enjoy. Kory-Kory, I mean thee no harm in what I say in regard to
thy outward adornings; but they were a little curious to my unaccustomed
sight, and therefore I dilate upon them. But to underrate or forget thy
faithful services is something I could never be guilty of, even in the
giddiest moment of my life.
The father of my attached follower was a native of gigantic frame, and
had once possessed prodigious physical powers; but the lofty form was
now yielding to the inroads of time, though the hand of disease seemed
never to have been laid upon the aged warrior. Marheyo--for such was
his name--appeared to have retired from all active participation in the
affairs of the valley, seldom or never accompanying the natives in
their various expeditions; and employing the greater part of his time
in throwing up a little shed just outside the house, upon which he was
engaged to my certain knowledge for four months, without appearing
to make any sensible advance. I suppose the old gentleman was in his
dotage, for he manifested in various ways the characteristics which mark
this particular stage of life.
I remember in particular his having a choice pair of ear-ornaments,
fabricated from the teeth of some sea-monster. These he would
alternately wear and take off at least fifty times in the course of the
day, going and coming from his little hut on each occasion with all the
tranquillity imaginable. Sometimes slipping them through the slits
in his ears, he would seize his spear--which in length and slightness
resembled a fishing-pole--and go stalking beneath the shadows of the
neighbouring groves, as if about to give a hostile meeting to some
cannibal knight. But he would soon return again, and hiding his weapon
under the projecting eaves of the house, and rolling his clumsy trinkets
carefully in a piece of tappa, would resume his more pacific operations
as quietly as if he had never interrupted them.
But despite his eccentricities, Marheyo was a most paternal and
warm-hearted old fellow, and in this particular not a little resembled
his son Kory-Kory. The mother of the latter was the mistress of the
family, and a notable housewife, and a most industrious old lady she
was. If she did not understand the art of making jellies, jams, custard,
tea-cakes, and such like trashy affairs, she was profoundly skilled in
the mysteries of preparing ‘amar’, ‘poee-poee’, and ‘kokoo’, with other
substantial matters.
She was a genuine busy-body; bustling about the house like a country
landlady at an unexpected arrival; for ever giving the young girls tasks
to perform, which the little hussies as often neglected; poking into
every corner, and rummaging over bundles of old tappa, or making a
prodigious clatter among the calabashes. Sometimes she might have been
seen squatting upon her haunches in front of a huge wooden basin, and
kneading poee-poee with terrific vehemence, dashing the stone pestle
about as if she would shiver the vessel into fragments; on other
occasions, galloping about the valley in search of a particular kind
of leaf, used in some of her recondite operations, and returning home,
toiling and sweating, with a bundle of it, under which most women would
have sunk.
To tell the truth, Kory-Kory’s mother was the only industrious person
in all the valley of Typee; and she could not have employed herself more
actively had she been left an exceedingly muscular and destitute widow,
with an inordinate ate supply of young children, in the bleakest part
of the civilized world. There was not the slightest necessity for the
greater portion of the labour performed by the old lady: but she seemed
to work from some irresistible impulse; her limbs continually swaying to
and fro, as if there were some indefatigable engine concealed within her
body which kept her in perpetual motion.
- title
- Chunk 6