There She Blows! Or, The Log of the ArethusaMacy, William Hussey
General
There She Blows! Or, The Log of the Arethusa
Macy, William Hussey
Sea stories; Whaling -- Fiction
We remained on shore in the evening to see the dance round the fire,
which is accompanied with wild chants or recitations, and has no very
striking points about it. There is but little variety in the movements,
and the interest depends simply upon the almost perfect concert of
voice and gesture among a large number of performers. Its scenic effect
is heightened by the uniform system of tattooing, the chief point in
which is a stripe running the whole length of the arm on the outside,
and a wider one up and down the leg, like those worn by sergeants in
our army. But on the whole, the display is inferior in variety and
vigor to the Marquesan "_hula hula_," or to the war-dances of the
North American tribes. An incident occurred during this performance,
which forcibly illustrated the absolute control over the lives of his
subjects possessed by the irresponsible despot, King George. One of
the young men engaged in the dance failed to give satisfaction to the
critical eye or ear of the king, being, as I thought, a little out of
time in the chant, when, without a word, the king picked up a stone,
and hurled it at him, striking full in his breast, and effectually
knocking him out of the ranks, while the dance went on without
interruption, as if this was merely an ordinary recreation, in which
the monarch was wont to indulge when the humor seized him. A shudder
and murmur of indignation ran through us visitors from the ships at
this cruelty, but what could we do or say about it? The poor delinquent
gathered himself up and slunk away, evidently suffering dreadful pain.
He must have been severely, if, indeed, not dangerously injured; but it
seemed a matter of indifference to his royal master whether he lived or
died.
"I suppose," said Mr. Grafton, who was standing near me, "you feel just
as I do about that affair; as if you'd like to hurl that same rock back
at the king's breast with a will."
"Yes sir," I replied; "but it wouldn't be policy for us to attempt
anything of that kind."
"Hardly;" returned the mate. "We should have a hornet's nest about
our ears in short order, if we touched his sacred person. I presume
these young men consider it all right, and a mere matter of course,
each one feeling that it may be his turn next. I have no doubt that
the old savage has killed more than one of them in getting them up to
their present state of drill. He holds his subjects' lives at his own
disposal, as much as the Czar of all the Russias, or even more so;
and, as a general rule, these savage races are very reckless of human
life, seeming to attach but little value to it."
"Didn't you admire the sparring match, this afternoon?" I asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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