y the
Marquesans as impassable; they will not risk a horse on that, ascent;
and those who lie to the westward come and go in their canoes. I never
knew a hill to lose so little on a near approach: a consequence, I must
suppose, of its surprising steepness. When we turned about, I was amazed
to behold so deep a view behind, and so high a shoulder of blue sea,
crowned by the whale-like island of Motane. And yet the wall of mountain
had not visibly dwindled, and I could even have fancied, as I raised my
eyes to measure it, that it loomed higher than before.

We struck now into covert paths, crossed and heard more near at hand the
bickering of the streams, and tasted the coolness of those recesses
where the houses stood. The birds sang about us as we descended. All
along our path my guide was being hailed by voices: "Mikael--Kaoha,
Mikael!" From the doorstep, from the cotton-patch, or out of the deep
grove of island-chestnuts, these friendly cries arose, and were cheerily
answered as we passed. In a sharp angle of a glen, on a rushing brook
and under fathoms of cool foliage, we struck a house upon a well-built
paepae, the fire brightly burning under the popoi-shed against the
evening meal; and here the cries became a chorus, and the house folk,
running out, obliged us to dismount and breathe. It seemed a numerous
family: we saw eight at least; and one of these honoured me with a
particular attention. This was the mother, a woman naked to the waist,
of an aged countenance, but with hair still copious and black, and
breasts still erect and youthful. On our arrival I could see she
remarked me, but, instead of offering any greeting, disappeared at once
into the bush. Thence she returned with two crimson flowers. "Good-bye!"
was her salutation, uttered not without coquetry; and as she said it she
pressed the flowers into my hand--"Good-bye! I speak Inglis." It was
from a whaler-man, who (she informed me) was "a plenty good chap," that
she had learned my language; and I could not but think how handsome she
must have been in these times of her youth, and could not but guess that
some memories of the dandy whaler-man prompted her attentions to myself.
Nor could I refrain from wondering what had befallen her lover; in the
rain and mire of what sea-ports he had tramped since then; in what close
and garish drinking-dens had found his pleasure; and in the ward of what
infirmary dreamed his last of the Marquesas. But she, the more
fortu