ts, wonderfully pleased with the discreet
manner in which these distinguished personages behaved themselves.

Their appearance was certainly calculated to produce an effect. His
majesty was arrayed in a magnificent military uniform, stiff with gold
lace and embroidery, while his shaven crown was concealed by a huge
chapeau bras, waving with ostrich plumes. There was one slight blemish,
however, in his appearance. A broad patch of tattooing stretched
completely across his face, in a line with his eyes, making him look as
if he wore a huge pair of goggles; and royalty in goggles suggested some
ludicrous ideas. But it was in the adornment of the fair person of his
dark-complexioned spouse that the tailors of the fleet had evinced the
gaiety of their national taste. She was habited in a gaudy tissue of
scarlet cloth, trimmed with yellow silk, which, descending a little
below the knees, exposed to view her bare legs, embellished with spiral
tattooing, and somewhat resembling two miniature Trajan's columns. Upon
her head was a fanciful turban of purple velvet, figured with silver
sprigs, and surmounted by a tuft of variegated feathers.

The ship's company, crowding into the gangway to view the sight, soon
arrested her majesty's attention. She singled out from their number an
old salt, whose bare arms and feet, and exposed breast, were covered
with as many inscriptions in India ink as the lid of an Egyptian
sarcophagus. Notwithstanding all the sly hints and remonstrances of the
French officers, she immediately approached the man, and pulling further
open the bosom of his duck frock, and rolling up the leg of his wide
trousers, she gazed with admiration at the bright blue and vermilion
pricking thus disclosed to view. She hung over the fellow, caressing
him, and expressing her delight in a variety of wild exclamations and
gestures. The embarrassment of the polite Gauls at such an unlooked-for
occurrence may be easily imagined, but picture their consternation, when
all at once the royal lady, eager to display the hieroglyphics on her
own sweet form, bent forward for a moment, and turning sharply round,
threw up the skirt of her mantle and revealed a sight from which the
aghast Frenchmen retreated precipitately, and tumbling into their boats,
fled the scene of so shocking a catastrophe.

CHAPTER TWO

PASSAGE FROM THE CRUISING GROUND TO THE MARQUESAS--SLEEPY TIMES ABOARD
SHIP--SOUTH SEA SCENERY--LAND HO--THE FRENCH SQUADRON