Torrey's Narrative; or, The Life and Adventures of William TorreyTorrey, William
History
Torrey's Narrative; or, The Life and Adventures of William Torrey
Torrey, William
Marquesas Islands (French Polynesia); Seafaring life
The natives were apprised of their wish to go, when
they immediately repaired to the mountains, got them
small pigs, a quantity of bread fruit, cocoa-nuts, bananas,
&c., also a few calabashes of water.
With the most sanguine expectations they started,
having nothing to guide them but a small boat compass,
and promising to return and take us away. Of this we
had no hopes, believing it would be an adventure of
constant and unmitigated suffering, terminating in
death.
We watched them as long as discernible from the
beach, when, unwilling to lose sight of them, we ascended
a high bluff, where with straining eyes we
anxiously followed them, till by night and distance, they
were entirely excluded.
With heavy hearts we returned to the valley, determined
to conform, in every instance, to their whims and
notions, however humiliating, hoping by so doing to
obtain their confidence, which would be of vast importance
to us.
After a few days spent among them, in which we
most scrutinizingly watched their every movement, we
were taken around to the other valleys or tribes.
The island is composed of high bluffs, running from
the water inland. Between each mountain or bluff is a
low fertile valley through which a small rivulet courses
itself. The banks are lined with orange groves, bread
fruit trees and plantains, &c., which grow in the greatest
luxuriance. These valleys are occupied by different
tribes, each bearing a mark peculiar to themselves.
Some bear it upon the hands, others upon the face,
breast, &c. The tribe with which I was connected[121]
bore it upon the hands, wrists and ancles. This was
the largest tribe on the island, called the Teheda.
Each tribe which we visited were exceedingly joyous
at our approach, gathering around and examining us
minutely, and almost deafening us with their confounded
gibbering.
At night the huts in which we stayed were filled to
overflowing, so eager were they to see the "Tehoary"
or white man, as they called us.
We went on day after day. On the seventh day
Dawson was taken sick through the influence of the sun
upon his head, or correctly speaking, was sun struck.
At mid-day he would be raving, so much so, as to render
it extremely difficult to take care of him. Destitute
as we were of medicine and medical skill, we could do
but little for him. As the day advanced and the sun
declined, he would be more quiet, and remain so until
its approach the next day, when he was again delirious.
On the fourth day he expired in the most excruciating
agony.
We had seen death seize upon his victims in almost
every form, but never before had he approached seemingly
so near.
As a last sad office to be performed to our departed
friend, we set about digging a grave, as best we could
with our rude implements of digging.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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