remained outside, awaiting the breeze to fill the Port--and then wearing
round, the ship leaped, replete with life and vigor--every seam of the
stout canvas straining--towards an entrance through a coral gateway. The
sea was light green on either side of the aperture, barely wide enough
to admit us, when, at the turning point, the helm was put down, and the
strong wind bore the huge hull through the blue channel into the smooth
water within. Sails were brailed up, and at the proper moment down fell
the ponderous anchor--splash--with its unfettered cable rumbling to the
coral beds of Papeetee! What if there chanced to be a group of mermaids,
parting their wet locks, in the emerald villas below? Nothing! Crashing
through the snowy groves and shelly mansions, goes the ruthless anchor,
alike indifferent to all!

We were locked in by the reef--no ungainly ledge of black, jagged
rocks--no frightful barrier to make tempest-tost mariners shudder--but a
smooth parapet of coral, just beneath the surface, with the outer face
like a bulwark of adamant, where the swelling billows vainly expend
their rage, and then bubble rippling over in a liquid fringe of creamy
foam.

Skirting along the semi-circular shores of the harbor, is the town of
Papeetee. Lines of houses and cottages half smothered in glossy green
foliage--pretty, square-built, veranda'd, straw-colored dwellings and
barracks of the French--and midway between reef and shore, a little
bouquet of an islet, teeming with cocoanut, banian, bread-fruit and the
iron-wood tree, with its filmy, feathery, delicate tissue of leaves and
branches--all drooping over a few cane-thatched sheds and a _demi-lune_
battery of open-mouthed cannon.

Night came, and the breeze was done. Not a sigh disturbed the tranquil
water--the towering ships were mirrored and reflected by the
moonlight--red fires were shedding twinkling glooms from fishing canoes,
through the moon's silver flame, athwart the sparkling phosphorescent
surf--the sharp peaks of Tahiti were hanging high above, with
Aimeo dimly visible in the distance! Presently bugles from the
ships of war rang out clear and shrill in the calm night--drums
rattled--tap--tap--tap--flash--flash--the nine o'clock guns, and as the
reverberating echoes from the reports went dying away from valley to
valley, there came the clash of cymbals from the shore, and then the
full crash of a brass band, pouring forth the most delightful melody
from Norma; w