THE port -the mart,the civil and religious capital of these rude islands -is called Tai-o-hae,and lies strung along the beach of a precipitous green bay in Nuka-hiva.It was midwinter when we came thither,and the weather was sultry,boisterous,and inconstant.
Now the wind blew squally from the land down gaps of splintered precipice;now,between the sentinel islets of the entry,it came in gusts from seaward.Heavy and dark clouds impended on the summits;the rain roared and ceased;the scuppers of the mountain gushed;and the next day we would see the sides of the amphitheatre bearded with white falls.Along the beach the town shows a thin file of houses,mostly white,and all ensconced in the foliage of an avenue of green puraos;a pier gives access from the sea across the belt of breakers;to the eastward there stands,on a projecting bushy hill,the old fort which is now the calaboose,or prison;eastward still,alone in a garden,the Residency flies the colours of France.Just off Calaboose Hill,the tiny Government schooner rides almost permanently at anchor,marks eight bells in the morning (there or thereabout)with the unfurling of her flag,and salutes the setting sun with the report of a musket.
Here dwell together,and share the comforts of a club (which may be enumerated as a billiard-board,absinthe,a map of the world on Mercator's projection,and one of the most agreeable verandahs in the tropics),a handful of whites of varying nationality,mostly French officials,German and Scottish merchant clerks,and the agents of the opium monopoly.There are besides three tavern-keepers,the shrewd Scot who runs the cotton gin-mill,two white ladies,and a sprinkling of people 'on the beach'-a South Sea expression for which there is no exact equivalent.It is a pleasant society,and a hospitable.But one man,who was often to be seen seated on the logs at the pier-head,merits a word for the singularity of his history and appearance.Long ago,it seems,he fell in love with a native lady,a High Chiefess in Ua-pu.She,on being approached,declared she could never marry a man who was untattooed;it looked so naked;whereupon,with some greatness of soul,our hero put himself in the hands of the Tahukus,and,with still greater,persevered until the process was complete.He had certainly to bear a great expense,for the Tahuku will not work without reward;and certainly exquisite pain.Kooamua,high chief as he was,and one of the old school,was only part tattooed;he could not,he told us with lively pantomime,endure the torture to an end.Our enamoured countryman was more resolved;he was tattooed from head to foot in the most approved methods of the art;and at last presented himself before his mistress a new man.The fickle fair one could never behold him from that day except with laughter.For my part,I could never see the man without a kind of admiration;of him it might be said,if ever of any,that he had loved not wisely,but too well.
The Residency stands by itself,Calaboose Hill screening it from the fringe of town along the further bay.The house is commodious,with wide verandahs;all day it stands open,back and front,and the trade blows copiously over its bare floors.On a week-day the garden offers a scene of most untropical animation,half a dozen convicts toiling there cheerfully with spade and barrow,and touching hats and smiling to the visitor like old attached family servants.On Sunday these are gone,and nothing to be seen but dogs of all ranks and sizes peacefully slumbering in the shady grounds;for the dogs of Tai-o-hae are very courtly-minded,and make the seat of Government their promenade and place of siesta.
In front and beyond,a strip of green down loses itself in a low wood of many species of acacia;and deep in the wood a ruinous wall encloses the cemetery of the Europeans.English and Scottish sleep there,and Scandinavians,and French MAITRES DE MANOEUVRES and MAITRES OUVRIERS:mingling alien dust.Back in the woods,perhaps,the blackbird,or (as they call him there)the island nightingale,will be singing home strains;and the ceaseless requiem of the surf hangs on the ear.I have never seen a resting-place more quiet;but it was a long thought how far these sleepers had all travelled,and from what diverse homes they had set forth,to lie here in the end together.
On the summit of its promontory hill,the calaboose stands all day with doors and window-shutters open to the trade.On my first visit a dog was the only guardian visible.He,indeed,rose with an attitude so menacing that I was glad to lay hands on an old barrel-hoop;and I think the weapon must have been familiar,for the champion instantly retreated,and as I wandered round the court and through the building,I could see him,with a couple of companions,humbly dodging me about the corners.The prisoners'
