The Carver is much used for medical purposes, being very efficacious in its results. If it is taken in great quantities, the skin becomes dry and parched, and peals off, like the effects of the sun's heat upon the hand or neck, leaving an entirely new and smooth surface—completely renovating the entire system. During my stay there I was bitten by a Centipede on the ball of my thumb. The Serrever or doctor put me to bed, upon my back, as was always the position for lying, fastened my hand up to the roof of the hut, and secured a bark, in a dish-like form, around the wrist, into which he poured carver. In the morning the pain was entirely removed, and I suffered no farther inconvenience from it. The bite from them often results in death. One curious fact respecting it is, that when chewed by the natives, it comes from the mouth dry like meal from the mill. This I often attempted to perform, but was not able to do it. The females usually prepare it, though they are prohibited its use. During my stay I knew of but one or two instances of a violation of that law. We loitered around the island altogether discontented. I think, however, we might have lived a few days among them tolerably well, had not the idea of our being[119] obliged to do so, with no means of getting away, been so terribly impressed upon the mind. We visited most of the families in the valley, and at each saw new scenes. Some were making poe, others braiding mats, while some were making tappa, oars, spears, &c. In our rambles we were always accompanied by a score of natives, who followed us at a little distance, watching our every movement. In one instance we came to an orange grove, where we stopped to pick some of the fruit. They came running furiously to us, crying "tabu! tabu!!" at the top of their voices, and taking the fruit from us, drew us from the spot. This puzzled us not a little. We soon learned, however, that they had been reserved by the king for some special purpose, who had tabued them, or placed such restrictions upon them, that no one of the tribe dare touch them, it being considered a great offence. The Captain being altogether sick of such a life, proposed going to Otaheite in the open boat. He urged no one to go with him, but simply proposed the thing, kindly offering to share his last morsel with those who should be disposed to undertake it with him. One after another acceded to his proposition, until all, save myself and two others, Dawson, a native of Liverpool, England, and Noyce, of Albany, New York,—had pledged themselves to go. We knowing the utter impracticability of such an undertaking at that season of the year, especially, when violent tornadoes swept over that portion of the seas, accompanied with heavy rains, would not consent to go, choosing rather to remain with the natives and run the risk of our ever getting away. [120]