As we slowly advanced up the bay, numerous canoes pushed off from the
surrounding shores, and we were soon in the midst of quite a flotilla
of them, their savage occupants struggling to get aboard of us, and
jostling one another in their ineffectual attempts. Occasionally the
projecting out-riggers of their slight shallops, running foul of one
another, would become entangled beneath the water, threatening to
capsize the canoes, when a scene of confusion would ensue that baffles
description. Such strange outcries and passionate gesticulations I
never certainly heard or saw before. You would have thought the
islanders were on the point of flying at one another’s throats, whereas
they were only amicably engaged in disentangling their boats.
Scattered here and there among the canoes might be seen numbers of
cocoa-nuts floating closely together in circular groups, and bobbing up
and down with every wave. By some inexplicable means these cocoa-nuts
were all steadily approaching towards the ship. As I leaned curiously
over the side, endeavouring to solve their mysterious movements, one
mass, far in advance of the rest, attracted my attention. In its centre
was something I could take for nothing else than a cocoa-nut, but which
I certainly considered one of the most extraordinary specimens of the
fruit I had ever seen. It kept twirling and dancing about among the
rest in the most singular manner: and as it drew nearer, I thought it
bore a remarkable resemblance to the brown shaven skull of one of the
savages. Presently it betrayed a pair of eyes, and soon I became aware
that what I had supposed to have been one of the fruit was nothing else
than the head of an islander, who had adopted this singular method of
bringing his produce to market. The cocoa-nuts were all attached to one
another by strips of the husk, partly torn from the shell, and rudely
fastened together. Their proprietor, inserting his head into the midst
of them, impelled his necklace of cocoa-nuts through the water by
striking out beneath the surface with his feet.
I was somewhat astonished to perceive that among the number of natives
that surrounded us, not a single female was to be seen. At that time I
was ignorant of the fact that by the operation of the “taboo,” the use
of canoes in all parts of the island is rigorously prohibited to the
entire sex, for whom it is death even to be seen entering one when
hauled on shore; consequently, whenever a Marquesan lady voyages by
water, she puts in requisition the paddles of her own fair body.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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