h the
internal arrangements and architecture of the Reine Blanche. His time on
board was passed in fetters; at nightfall on the fifth day he left the
ship. How, we are curious to know, did he become acquainted with the
minute details of "the crack craft in the French navy," with the
disposition of her guns and decks, the complicated machinery by which
certain exceedingly simple things were done, and even with the rich
hangings, mirrors, and mahogany of the commodore's cabin? Surely the
ragged and disreputable mutineer of the Julia, whose foot had scarcely
touched the gangway, when he was hurried into confinement below, could
have had scanty opportunity for such observations: unless, indeed,
Herman Melville, or Typee, or the Rover, or by whatever other _alias_ he
be known, instead of creeping in at the hawse-holes, was welcomed on the
quarter-deck and admitted to the gun-room, or to the commodore's cabin,
an honoured guest in broad-cloth, not a despised merchant seaman in
canvass frock and hat of tarpaulin. We shall not dwell on these small
inconsistencies and oversights in an amusing book. We prefer
accompanying the Julia's crew to Tahiti, where they were put on shore
contrary to their expectations, and not altogether to their
satisfaction, since they had anticipated a rapid run to Valparaiso, the
fag-end of a cruise in an English man-of-war, and a speedy discharge at
Portsmouth. Paper Jack and Consul Wilson had other designs, and still
hoped to reclaim them to their duty on board the crazy Julia. On their
stubborn refusal, they were given in charge to a fat, good-humoured, old
Tahitian, called Captain Bob, who, at the head of an escort of natives,
conveyed them up the country to a sort of shed, known as the Calabooza
Beretanee or English jail, used as a prison for refractory sailors. This
commences Typee's shore-going adventures, not less pleasant and original
than his sea-faring ones; although it is with some regret that we lose
sight of the vermin-haunted barque, on whose board such strange and
exciting scenes occurred.

Throughout the book, however, fun and incident abound, and we are
consoled for our separation from poor little Jule, by the curious
insight we obtain into the manners, morals, and condition of the gentle
savages, on whom an attempted civilisation has brought far more curses
than blessings.

"How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai,"

how gladsome and grateful the rustle of leaves and tinkle of