who in his especially graphic and attractive
style thus hits off the peculiarities of this graceful insect. "When
full grown," saith Thomas, "it is a large dingy brown-coloured beetle,
about two inches long, with six legs, and two feelers as long as its
body. It has a strong anti-hysterical flavour, something between rotten
cheese and asafoetida, and seldom stirs abroad when the sun is up, but
lies concealed in the most obscure and obscene crevices it can creep
into; so that, when it is seen, its wings and body are thickly covered
with dust and dirt of various shades, which any culprit who chances to
fall asleep with his mouth open, is sure to reap the benefit of, as it
has a great propensity to walk into it, partly for the sake of the
crumbs adhering to the masticators, and also, apparently, with a
scientific desire to inspect, by accurate admeasurement with the
aforesaid antennae, the state and condition of the whole potato-trap." A
description worthy of Buffon. Such were the delicate monsters, the
savoury sexipedes, with whom Typee and his comrades had to wage
incessant war. They were worse even than the rats, which were certainly
bad enough. "Tame as Trenck's mouse, they stood in their holes, peering
at you like old grandfathers in a doorway;" watching for their prey, and
disputing with the sailors the weevil-biscuit, rancid pork, and
horse-beef, composing the Julia's stores; or smothering themselves, the
luscious vermin, in molasses, which thereby acquired a rich wood-cock
flavour, whose cause became manifest when the treacle-jar ran low,
greatly to the disgust and consternation of the biped consumers. There
were no delicate feeders on board, but this saccharine essence of rat
was too much even for the unscrupulous stomachs of South-Sea whalers. A
queer set they were on board that Sydney barque. Paper Jack, the
captain, was a feeble Cockney, of meek spirit and puny frame, who glided
about the vessel in a nankeen jacket and canvass pumps, a laughing-stock
to his crew. The real command devolved upon the chief mate, John
Jermin--a good sailor and brave fellow, but violent, and given to drink.
The junior mate had deserted; of the four harpooners only one was left,
a fierce barbarian of a New Zealander--an excellent mariner, whose stock
of English was limited to nautical phrases and a frightful power of
oath, but who, in spite of his cannibal origin, ranked as a sort of
officer, in virtue of his harpoon, and took command