Omoo: Adventures in the South SeasMelville, Herman
General
Omoo: Adventures in the South Seas
Melville, Herman
Adventure stories; Polynesia -- Description and travel -- Fiction
It is said that the fresh water of the land, mixing with the salts held
in solution by the sea, so acts upon the latter as to resist the
formation of the coral; and hence the breaks. Here and there, these
openings are sentinelled, as it were, by little fairy islets, green as
emerald, and waving with palms. Strangely and beautifully diversifying
the long line of breakers, no objects can strike the fancy more
vividly. Pomaree II., with a taste in watering-places truly Tahitian,
selected one of them as a royal retreat. We passed it on our journey.
Omitting several further adventures which befell us after leaving the
party from Loohooloo, we must now hurry on to relate what happened just
before reaching the place of our destination.
CHAPTER LXXII.
A DEALER IN THE CONTRABAND
It must have been at least the tenth day, reckoning from the Hegira,
that we found ourselves the guests of Varvy, an old hermit of an
islander who kept house by himself perhaps a couple of leagues from
Taloo.
A stone’s-cast from the beach there was a fantastic rock, moss-grown
and deep in a dell. It was insulated by a shallow brook, which,
dividing its waters, flowed on both sides until united below. Twisting
its roots round the rock, a gnarled “Aoa” spread itself overhead in a
wilderness of foliage; the elastic branch-roots depending from the
larger boughs insinuating themselves into every cleft, thus forming
supports to the parent stem. In some places these pendulous branches,
half-grown, had not yet reached the rock; swinging their loose fibrous
ends in the air like whiplashes.
Varvy’s hut, a mere coop of bamboos, was perched upon a level part of
the rock, the ridge-pole resting at one end in a crotch of the “Aoa,”
and the other propped by a forked bough planted in a fissure.
Notwithstanding our cries as we drew near, the first hint the old
hermit received of our approach was the doctor’s stepping up and
touching his shoulder, as he was kneeling over on a stone cleaning fish
in the brook. He leaped up, and stared at us. But with a variety of
uncouth gestures, he soon made us welcome; informing us, by the same
means, that he was both deaf and dumb; he then motioned us into his
dwelling.
Going in, we threw ourselves upon an old mat, and peered round. The
soiled bamboos and calabashes looked so uninviting that the doctor was
for pushing on to Taloo that night, notwithstanding it was near sunset.
But at length we concluded to stay where we were.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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