impressionistic scene in nuka hiva—tissemao listens to the luring voice of a cuttle-fish—the love-stricken cuttle-fish—when crabs are brave.
the pagan city of nuka hiva was silent. the tired sentinel stars were creeping homeward. dawn had already arisen from her silvery couch, her soft robe, cut out of the warm western winds, wrapped around her, her sandals dipped in light as she stood on the skyline, a few stars still plucking her dusky hair. then that wonderful enchantress, who awakens the ages, stepped tiptoe across the horizon’s shadow hills, the echoes of her footfalls winging the silence of the tropic seas. those echoes, colliding with the granite hills of south sea fairy-land, rustled the magical shadows of the sylvan hollows, then, touching the winged nymphs and petals of the flamboyants and ndrala blossoms, sped onward into the deeper glooms of the forests. an aged cockatoo who had spent its best years as a vassal of the god atua mao, looked sidelong at the golden gleams of the eastern sky and called out hoarsely:
“talofa! aloah! awake, o birds of the forest! morn is here! arise!”
now, all this happened in full view of a little heathen village by a mossy slope near tai-o-hae. and who was it could see so strange a fairy-land in the birth of a new day breaking across the ranges? it was tissemao, the marquesan maid!
tissemao was up very early that morning. she had 266been with her little brother noko-noko, fishing for reatos in the blue lagoon by the bay. and noko, burdened with fishy wealth, had hurried back home to his village hut that stood in the shadows of the mountains of atnana, leaving his sister alone. as tissemao dangled her feet in the cool waters of the ocean the golden light was stealing from the eyes of sunrise; it touched the surface of the big moani ali (ocean) that shone like a mighty mirror that stretched to the horizon. suddenly tissemao felt something pull at her toes which were dangling in the sea. looking down to see what it could be, she gave a cry of surprise. and no wonder; for a cuttle-fish poked its head out of the sea, and said:
“i’m so sorry to disturb you, tissemao, but we’ve all been swimming about here a long time, for we can see your shadow in the waters, and really it is very beautiful.”
tissemao blushed to hear such praise. looking down, she saw that it was quite correct, for there, in the water, shone her image as clear as though it was mirrored in a sheet of glass. clad in her coloured tappa holaku (short chemise), hibiscus flowers in her mass of dusky hair, she really did make a pretty picture.
the cuttle-fish, putting on its sweetest smile, said:
“would you like to come down here and see the wonders of the great world under the sea?”
for a long time tissemao hesitated, then she said:
“why, mr. cuttle-fish, you must remember i’m not like you; i should soon die for the want of breath under the sea.”
“oh dear, no!” said the artful cuttle-fish, shaking its head slowly at the idea of such a ridiculous suggestion.
but very soon, hearing that there were so many strange 267and beautiful things under the sea, tissemao, with the cuttle-fish’s kind help, slid down gently into the deep water!
directly she got beneath the surface, the cuttle-fish seized her tightly by the arm, and said fiercely:
“come on! now i’ve got you!”
poor tissemao was frightened out of her life as she felt the clutch of the cuttle-fish as it dragged her down, down. it seemed such a long time ere she touched the bottom of the ocean. still the cuttle-fish clutched her, and breathed heavily, like one who had gained a rich prize and dreaded to lose it. dragging her along the ocean floor, he came to a cavern. for a moment the cuttle-fish looked round, then took her in. this cavern was lit up by a faint glimmer from the light of the sun that was shining up over the sea. as tissemao looked round, the cuttle-fish said:
“i am all that’s beautiful; if you expect to see anything more beautiful than a cuttle-fish, you are very, very much mistaken.”
saying this, it lifted its ugly face and tried to assume a fascinating smile.
but it was no good. tissemao would have none of it, but simply said:
“let me get away; let me go up into my village again, will you?”
the old cuttle-fish got into an awful rage at hearing tissemao plead so, for he had fallen deeply in love with her.
now it so happened, and by the merest chance too, that the cuttle-fish was terrifying tissemao, trying to frighten her into subjection, when a very old crab happened to be walking by the cuttle-fish’s cavern door. the crab distinctly caught sight of tissemao looking up with terror-stricken eyes at the cuttle-fish.
268“ho ho!” he muttered to himself; “so he’s at it again, is he!”
now, this old crab was good-hearted, one of the respectable kind. and, knowing the reputation the cuttle-fish had as a roué of the worst type, he at once determined to thwart the cuttle-fish in his endeavours to attempt to hurt so sweet a maid as tissemao. so he gently looked round the corner of the cavern door, and said:
“good afternoon.”
in a moment the vicious cuttle-fish rushed to the door, so that its bulk could artfully hide tissemao from the intruder’s eyes.
the old crab, seeing through the ruse and not wishing to let the cuttle-fish know that it had seen tissemao, artfully put its claw to its mouth, then, yawning, said:
“oh dear, my eyes are so bad lately, really i can’t see anything at all.” then it looked straight into the cuttle-fish’s eyes, and continued: “i suppose you feel very lonely here in this cave of yours?”
the cuttle-fish, like all things of a wicked type, had no brains at all, and so was completely taken in. and the crab, chuckling to itself, went safely on its way as quickly as possible round the corner, to consider what was best to do to extricate tissemao from her awful position.
in a moment it had made its mind up. going up to a large cavern that stood in its own grounds to the south-west of the mighty forests of sea-weeds, it lifted its claws and gently knocked at the door. in a moment it opened, and a great sword-fish thrust its tremendous spiked nose out, and said:
“hallo! what’s up now? i was just having a nap; you are the second person who has knocked at my door this afternoon and disturbed me.”
269the old crab bowed, and apologized profusely as it saw the sword-fish’s angry face. then the crab said:
“i have come to you, knowing well that you are a friend of the helpless and are fair-dealing in all your mighty battles with that weapon, that sword which is fixed on your face.”
“well, make haste. what is it?” said the sword-fish, who, being powerful, was used to soft, flattering speeches from old crabs and other helpless things that were at his mercy under the deep sea.
then the old crab at once told the sword-fish all that he had seen while he had been passing the door of the cuttle-fish’s cave. the sword-fish, who was fond of cuttle-fish as a breakfast-dish, became most indignant as he listened to the crab’s comments on the morals of the cuttle-fish. then, without further parley, they both sallied forth to rescue tissemao. arriving outside the cavern, the crab gently knocked at the cuttle-fish’s door, as prearranged, and said:
“good evening, mr. cuttle-fish; i’ve called to see you because you are so lonely.”
the cuttle-fish, who was persuading tissemao to give him just one kiss, rushed to the door, and said:
“clear out of this; i’m busy.”
at this, the old crab swelled its breast out with bravery through its knowledge that the sword-fish was stealthily waiting round the corner, and said:
“don’t you talk like that to me, you ungrateful wretch, when i’ve come all this way to pay you a friendly visit.” then, losing its temper, the crab gave a knowing wink, and said: “i know all about you; you are at your old tricks again—whose poor wife have you got in your house now, i wonder?”
with its eyes ablaze with rage at hearing such a suggestion from a cowardly old crab, and in its knowledge 270that truth was spoken, the cuttle-fish gave a running dash, and knocked the crab over. this act was just what the sword-fish was waiting for, for as the cuttle-fish rushed out of the cave so as to reach the crab, he, too, gave a dash forward and so impaled the cuttle-fish on his mighty sword! in a moment the crab had recovered its feet, delighted at the success of its ruse. for tissemao kissed its ugly face as it embraced her, and told of all it had done on her behalf. it was then that the crab said:
“come on! come on!”
then it escorted her along the wide floor of the deep ocean till she reached the shore. then it said, “never listen to the flattery of cuttle-fishes again, for you see that, but for an ugly old sword-fish and a brave person like me, you might have got out of your depth for ever. now then, go away, silly girl!”
on hearing the crab’s advice, tissemao at once stepped out of the ocean water, and saw the beautiful sun, and thereupon made up her mind to be satisfied with the world she knew. in a moment she had rushed off into the forest, and back again to her native village. her mother was delighted to see her again. they had all thought she was drowned, or dead somewhere in the forest, for though she knew it not, she had been away for three days! and, to this day, the people of those isles to the north-west always feel kindly toward old crabs, and look upon the big sword-fish as a valiant warrior.
such was the simple heathen fairy story which was told to me by my little comrade the marquesan youth, palao, who, as the reader will recall, was a member of my retinue when i paid a visit to the aged, discarded queen vakamoa, she who had once been the unlawfully-wedded 271wife of old martin smith of new south wales.
a few days after leaving the village where my little friend palao lived, i secured lodgings at the primitive inn near tai-o-hae beach. i recall that i stayed at that rum-stricken hostel for only a few days. the fact is, that an extraordinary old madman dwelt in the room next to mine. just as i laid my weary head down and thanked providence in my blessed anticipation of a well-earned month’s rest, the old man went raving mad. why ranjo, my host, put up with him was a complete mystery. up and down the room he would tramp, never ceasing, till he had wakened me for the night, as he called out in a most solemn voice:
“suffered under pontius pilate. o the quick and the dead! the quick and the dead!”
so would he rave on for hours till, exhausted, he fell asleep. and then he would snore, and puff the lips of his toothless mouth about in such a terrific manner that i dreamed that i was dead and sleeping in a deep-sea cave where the waves rushed in and violently lifted my shell-burred bones eternally. on the third night i was relieved of his presence, for he rose after midnight, went outside, and knelt before a tallow candle which he lit and placed beneath the palm grove. he would kneel before this humble tallow altar for about two hours, chanting in a sombre voice the lord’s prayer, interspersed with ghastly epitaphs that made my blood curdle as i groaned on my trestle bed.
i was thankful when i made the acquaintance of a young german. i cannot wax enthusiastic over a member of the teutonic race, but still, i must admit, that my german friend was as clean-minded a comrade as one could hope to meet in the south seas in those days. indeed, he and i secured a berth as stowaways on a full-rigged windjammer, and so left nuka hiva, incognito, 272outbound for the glorious nowhere of sanguine youth. i see by my diary that i eventually arrived in new guinea, where i stayed six months with a celebrated high chief and his family. though my native host was an inveterate cannibal in battle times, he and his family were exceedingly kind to me while i was down with malaria. after that i shipped on a german vessel for the solomon isles, where i arrived off bougainville in a typhoon. our ship was wrecked off the coast, and we lost four hands. i had only my shirt and boots on when a huge comber swept me from the deck into the ocean, where i seemed to make about four somersaults between the sea and the night sky, ere i was landed high up on the sandy beach. next day i recovered my violin from the wreck that lay high and dry on the barrier reefs. unfortunately, i have no space to narrate all that i experienced when i became the staunch friend of the solomon island head-hunters!—played the violin to the great ingrova, to oom pa, and gave violin lessons to high chief stem-poo’s half-caste daughter, mallio-wao, up in the mountain stronghold at zalabar. i will simply say, that, under the friendly cover of one dark night, i hurriedly left ysabel for new guinea, and after many wanderings once more came across my irish comrade, o’hara. and in the next chapters i will attempt to relate those things which i count as the most thrilling experiences of wild south sea life which i was ever thrown into by the mystery of circumstance.
