Strolling About, With This Intention, They, At Last,
Came To Martair; And, Thinking The Soil Would Suit, Set Themselves To
Work.
They began by finding out the owner of the particular spot
coveted, and then making a "tayo" of him.
He turned out to be Tonoi, the chief of the fishermen: who, one day,
when exhilarated with brandy, tore his meagre tappa from his loins,
and gave me to know that he was allied by blood with Pomaree herself;
and that his mother came from the illustrious race of pontiffs, who,
in old times, swayed their bamboo crosier over all the pagans of
Imeeo. A regal, and right reverend lineage! But, at the time I speak
of, the dusky noble was in decayed circumstances, and, therefore, by
no means unwilling to alienate a few useless acres. As an equivalent,
he received from the strangers two or three rheumatic old muskets,
several red woollen shirts, and a promise to be provided for in his
old age: he was always to find a home with the planters.
Desirous of living on the cosy footing of a father-in-law, he frankly
offered his two daughters for wives; but as such, they were politely
declined; the adventurers, though not averse to courting, being
unwilling to entangle themselves in a matrimonial alliance, however
splendid in point of family.
Tonoi's men, the fishermen of the grove, were a sad set. Secluded, in
a great measure, from the ministrations of the missionaries, they
gave themselves up to all manner of lazy wickedness.
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