g
could have saved the _Casco_ from going to the bottom. The ship was at
once sent to Papeete for repairs, but as it was impossible to obtain
new masts of a proper size there, they were obliged to be content with
patching up the old ones. This let the party in for a long stay at
Tautira, at which none repined, for the scenery and climate were
delightful, and their new friends hospitable and interesting.

Following island custom, Mrs. Louis Stevenson and the Princess Moe
exchanged names--each taking the name of the other's mother--that of
Mrs. Stevenson being Terii-Tauma-Terai, part of which meant heaven and
part gave her a claim to some land in the neighbourhood.

Chief Ori a Ori (Ori of Ori, a clan name) was a magnificent figure of
a man, standing six feet three and broad and strong in proportion. "He
looked like nothing so much as a Roman emperor in bronze," says Mrs.
Stevenson, and when he appeared at a feast with a wreath of golden
yellow leaves on his head, all the company cried out in admiration. As
he spoke very good French, communication with him was easy, and many a
pleasant evening was spent in his house at Tautira, exchanging strange
tales of old, wild, bloody days in the Scottish Highlands and in the
Southern Seas. Both the Stevensons conceived a warm friendship for
Ori, which endured as long as they lived.

As they used to do in Barbizon, in the old French days, Mrs. Louis
Stevenson set herself to making silhouettes of the different members
of the strangely assorted company, gathered from the four quarters of
the globe. First she did the portrait of Ori by throwing the shadow of
his head on the wall with the help of a lamp, then drawing the outline
and filling it in with India ink. It turned out so good that Ori
demanded likenesses of all the rest, and soon the house was turned
into a veritable picture-gallery.

A feast was given by the chief for the captain of the _Casco_, and,
says the elder Mrs. Stevenson, "Ori had such respect for Fanny's
cooking powers that he insisted she should prepare the feast; so she
stuffed and cooked a pair of fowls, two roast pigs, and made a
pudding."

These days of pleasant intimacy with the Stevensons were doubtless the
brightest in the whole life of the island chief, and he kept them
always in affectionate remembrance. Years afterwards, when Mrs.
Stevenson was living in San Francisco after the death of her husband,
two of her friends, Doctor and Mrs. Russell Cool, wen