It is a curious fact that if you deprive the cocoa-nut tree of the
verdant tuft at its head, it dies at once; and if allowed to stand
thus, the trunk, which, when alive, is encased in so hard a bark as
to be almost impervious to a bullet, moulders away, and, in an
incredibly short period, becomes dust. This is, perhaps, partly owing
to the peculiar constitution of the trunk, a mere cylinder of minute
hollow reeds, closely packed, and very hard; but, when exposed at
top, peculiarly fitted to convey moisture and decay through the
entire stem.
The finest orchard of cocoa-palms I know, and the only plantation of
them I ever saw at the islands, is one that stands right upon the
southern shore of Papeetee Bay. They were set out by the first
Pomaree, almost half a century ago; and the soil being especially
adapted to their growth, the noble trees now form a magnificent
grove, nearly a mile in extent. No other plant, scarcely a bush, is
to be seen within its precincts. The Broom Road passes through its
entire length.
At noonday, this grove is one of the most beautiful, serene, witching
places that ever was seen. High overhead are ranges of green rustling
arches; through which the sun's rays come down to you in sparkles.
You seem to be wandering through illimitable halls of pillars;
everywhere you catch glimpses of stately aisles, intersecting each
other at all points. A strange silence, too, reigns far and near; the
air flushed with the mellow stillness of a sunset.
But after the long morning calms, the sea-breeze comes in; and
creeping over the tops of these thousand trees, they nod their
plumes. Soon the breeze freshens; and you hear the branches brushing
against each other; and the flexible trunks begin to sway. Toward
evening the whole grove is rocking to and fro; and the traveller on
the Broom Road is startled by the frequent falling of the nuts,
snapped from their brittle stems. They come flying through the air,
ringing like jugglers' balls; and often bound along the ground for
many rods.
CHAPTER LXX.
LIFE AT LOOHOOLOO
FINDING the society at Loohooloo very pleasant, the young ladies, in
particular, being extremely sociable; and, moreover, in love with the
famous good cheer of old Marharvai, we acquiesced in an invitation of
his to tarry a few days longer. We might then, he said, join a small
canoe party which was going to a place a league or two distant. So
averse to all exertion are these people that they really thought the
prospect of thus getting rid of a few miles' walking would prevail
with us, even if there were no other inducement.
The people of the hamlet, as we soon discovered, formed a snug little
community of cousins; of which our host seemed the head. Marharvai,
in truth, was a petty chief who owned the neighbouring lands. And as
the wealthy, in most cases, rejoice in a numerous kindred, the family
footing upon which everybody visited him was, perhaps, ascribable to
the fact of his being the lord of the manor. Like Captain Bob, he was,
in some things, a gentleman of the old school - a stickler for the
customs of a past and pagan age.
Nowhere else, except in Tamai, did we find the manners of the natives
less vitiated by recent changes. The old-fashioned Tahitian dinner
they gave us on the day of our arrival was a fair sample of their
general mode of living.
Our time passed delightfully. The doctor went his way, and I mine.
With a pleasant companion, he was forever strolling inland,
ostensibly to collect botanical specimens; while I, for the most
part, kept near the sea; sometimes taking the girls on an aquatic
excursion in a canoe.
Often we went fishing; not dozing over stupid hooks and lines, but
leaping right into the water, and chasing our prey over the coral
rocks, spear in hand.
Spearing fish is glorious sport. The Imeeose, all round the island,
catch them in no other way. The smooth shallows between the reef and
the shore, and, at low water, the reef itself, being admirably
adapted to this mode of capturing them. At almost any time of the
day - save ever the sacred hour of noon - you may see the fish-hunters
pursuing their sport; with loud halloos, brandishing their spears, and
splashing through the water in all directions. Sometimes a solitary
native is seen, far out upon a lonely shallow, wading slowly along,
with eye intent and poised spear.
But the best sport of all is going out upon the great reef itself by
torch-light. The natives follow this recreation with as much spirit
as a gentleman of England does the chase; and take full as much
delight in it.
The torch is nothing more than a bunch of dry reeds, bound firmly
together: the spear, a long, light pole, with an iron head, on one
side barbed.
I shall never forget the night that old Marharvai and the rest of us,
paddling off to the reef, leaped at midnight upon the coral ledges
with waving torches and spears. We were more than a mile from the
land; the sullen ocean, thundering upon the outside of the rocks,
dashed the spray in our faces, almost extinguishing the flambeaux;
and, far as the eye could reach, the darkness of sky and water was
streaked with a long, misty line of foam, marking the course of the
coral barrier. The wild fishermen, flourishing their weapons, and
yelling like so many demons to scare their prey, sprang from ledge to
ledge, and sometimes darted their spears in the very midst of the
breakers.
