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The Spike: or, Victoria College Review, June 1912

The Islands of the Blest—and Others

The Islands of the Blest—and Others.

Like Neptune's forefinger pointing out of the sea, illumined by the rising sun, it came up over the horizon. Undoubtedly it would have been the most beautiful sight I had ever beheld had I been out of my bunk to behold it. But by the time I awoke and stole on deck, we were already anchored under its lee, while, drawn by an asthmatic and lazy little steam launch, a flotilla of native boats laden with fruit was making its way towards us.

A dazzling white beach; a quiet green lagoon whose waters fall sleepily upon the dazzling white beach; a broad coral reef which surrounds the quiet green lagoon; an intensely blue sea which pounds upon the broad coral reef; and a background of sloping cocoanut palms and luxuriant green foliage which set off the intensely blue sea which pounds upon the broad coral reef which surrounds the quiet green lagoon whose waters fall sleepily upon the dazzling white beach of the Island of Rarotonga. Here indeed are all the accessories for your rough Island story, with its dusky hero and heroine; and should you wish to dispose of its still duskier villain, why there page 54 are always a few willing sharks swimming about the lagoon for the purpose.

Happy are the dwellers of this little Eden,
Where they dance their weird fandangos
'Neath the luscious, blooming mangos;
Softly murmur "Kiaorana's*
When you buy their ripe bananas.

They live in a world of dreams, into which the spectre of work is not allowed to enter; but strangely enough they regard money, especially the traveller's, as rather a friendly visitant. In their kindly feeling towards it, indeed, they bid fair to outrival their next of kin, the Maoris. We took a little company of them on board, bound for Tahiti, and one evening they performed in native wise. Weirdly their moaning chants mingled with the swish of the water alongside; rhythmically their bare feet pattered on the deck as they danced; systematically. From time to time, they emptied the pie-dish which, placed on the deck, served as a receptacle for the fast mounting cash receipts. The climax was reached when, in the middle of a horrible war dance the great chief, Ava Dupois, trod upon this improvised cash register, and its contents rolled in all directions. Where-upon the lusty warrious unanimously ceased dancing ot gather the scattered spoils.

The only correct thing for the visitor to do in Rarotonga is to hire a buggy with a horse and native boy attached, and to drive around the island. The boy drives the horse, and the visitor drives the boy. When the boy sleeps. The horse stops; but when the horse sleeps he still keeps on moving, and doubtless dreams he is back among the wild herd, no end of a gay fellow. That, however, was really long ago, before his coat became so confoundedly small and uncomfortable for his ribs.

We drove through grove upon grove of banana, cocoanut and orange, and by the side of the coral-strewn beach. Everywhere we encountered natives, always greeting us with the same happy smile, like the children at a Sunday-school picnic who have attained a comfort page 55 able plenitude before the supply of buns gave out. What struck us most, however, was the number of private cemeteries. For when a Rarotongan dies he can, if he so desires, be quietly interred in his own back yard, and many are the plain concrete slabs which mark the spot where the rude forefathers of the island sleep. O'nights, when the warm wind blows the leaves along the garden paths, you can hear the ghostly creaking of hinges and the soft voices of these domestic spirits telling one another over the gate, tales of the days when they bearded the cocoanut in his den and squeezed the buxom orange for themselves along, and not at the behest of a white tyrant. And the Hibiscus blooms which spurt out of the green like jets of blood seem to plead

"Ah, lean upon us lightly, for who knows
From what once lovely Lip we spring unseen?"

We certainly did think the limit of luxury reached, however, when we found a tombstone in the middle of a household kitchen. A skeleton in the cupboard would be no term of opprobrium to these people.

The Island of Papeete, some two days distant from Rarotonga, is a French colony, and Tahiti, its capital, has, besides its native population, some hundreds of French and Chinamen, and some millions of centipedes. "It came like a centipede in the soup" is a Tahitian method of expressing polite surprise at any not altogether unexpected event.

The arrival of a ship is the great event of the month, and as she noses her way very carefully through the reef, she touches a button which automatically sends up all the prices in all the shops and markets of the town. The entire population then gather at the wharf; white, brown, half-caste, quadroon, octoroon, macaroon, and the gendarme. So, literally and metaphorically, the Tahitians see you coming. But, as you walk along the narrow vanilla-scented "Rues" of the old-fashioned town, or at night see the fell the land -crabs crawling like huge spiders over your feet, you know that at last you have reached the land of the Lotus. The material and worldly fall away from it like a tattered garment.

page 56

There is a little French tavern in the town, and there, in a small side room, some of us frequently sat us down. Next to us were men lazily sipping absinthe, so weak, however, that only the cheapest assortment and lowest quality of dreams and visions could possibly result from it. Our host was a relic of the Renaissance, whose Adam's apple sloped down to his throat on either side at an angle of 45 degrees. From the main room beside us came the noisy laughter of French topers, the click of sabots, and the clink of glasses. Had we heard a thousand swords leaping from their scabbards, we should not have been surprised.

The dwellings of Papeete are like dolls' houses, raised from the grounds, and some days those in land are bound to became bored and to stride along on their stilts to look at the sea. Who will blame them, for the sea front is one of the most attractive of Papeete's many beauties? To stand under the archway of branches which covers the road by the shore, with the little island schooners drawn up stern first along the beach; to watch the sun gleam on the fish of many colours in the water, chiefly blue, white, and red, arranged tricolor fashion, as all patriotic French fish should be; or to watch the same sun sinking out at sea and the quick dusk coming up, and the lights bursting out of the darkness amidst the trees; that way danger lies, and Ulysses himself would have found him-self hard put to it to resist the siren song of the tropics, to say nothing of his crew.

Indeed. The hand-books issued by the shipping company advise you not to linger too long upon these islands or the blest, as, once under their magic spell, you may never more return to your native hearth and home. With this end in view, they unselfishly urge you to buy a return ticket from them at a greatly reduced price. Perhaps they are right, for I can imagine nothing easier than to stand on the white beaches and watch ship after ship go hull down and under, homeward bound on the long trail, while you firmly convince yourself that the next ship will carry you too away. So it may continue till the light catamaran of Charon himself ferries you to the tropics of another world, and the dusky god murmurs a warm "Kiaorana."

—S.E.

* Kiaorana. Native for "Good-luck."