by Jules Verne
Orders were sent to the engineers to give the rein to their million horses, and that is why Pinchinat was deprived of the pleasure of shaking hands with cannibals —if there were any. But they do not eat each other now in Cook’s Islands—which is perhaps regrettable.
Floating Island crossed the wide arm which projects up to the group of four islands, the line of which lies northward. A number of canoes were seen, some fairly well built and rigged, others merely dug out of the trunk of a tree, but manned with hardy fishermen who venture in pursuit of the whales so numerous in these seas.
These islands are very verdant, very fertile. When off Mangaia, there could be seen its rocky coasts, bordered by a bracelet of coral, its houses of dazzling whiteness, rough cast with quicklime made from the coral reefs, its hills clothed with the sombre verdure of tropical vegetation, their altitude not exceeding two hundred metres.
Next morning Commodore Simcoe sighted the wooded heights of Rarotonga. Near the centre rises a volcano, fifteen hundred metres high, whose summit emerges from a crown of brushwood. Among the foliage is a white building with Gothic windows. This is the Protestant temple, built amid large forests of mape trees, which descend to the shore. The trees—of great height, and much branched and with curious trunks—are crooked and gnarled, like the old apple-trees of Normandy or the old olive-trees of Provence.
Cyrus Bikerstaff did not think it convenient to land at this island, and he was supported by the council of notables, who were accustomed to be received like Kings on their travels.
At the end of the day no more of the island could be seen than the peak of the volcano, rising like a pillar on the horizon. Myriads of sea birds landed without permission and flew over Floating Island, but when night came they flew off to regain the islets incessantly lashed by the surges to the north of the archipelago.
Then a meeting was held, presided over by the Governor, in which it was proposed to modify the route of Floating Island. Continuing to the westward along the twentieth parallel, as had been decided, they would pass the Tonga Islands and the Fijis. But what had happened at Cook’s Islands was not very encouraging. Would it not be better to make for New Caledonia and the Loyalty Archipelago, where the Pearl of the Pacific would be received with French urbanity? Then after the December solstice they could return towards the Equator. It is true this would take them away from the New Hebrides, where they had promised to land the shipwrecked crew of the ketch.
During this deliberation as to a new route, the Malays were evidently a prey to very intelligible anxiety, for if the change were adopted their return home would be difficult. Captain Sarol could not conceal his disappointment, or even his anger, and anyone who had heard him speaking to his men would probably have thought his irritation rather suspicious.
“You see,” he said, “they will drop us at the Loyalties or at New Caledonia. And our friends are expecting us at Erromango. Our plans were so well arranged for the New Hebrides! Is this stroke of fortune to escape us?”
Fortunately for the Malays—unfortunately for Floating Island—the proposal for changing the route was not carried. The campaign would be proceeded with according to the programme arranged at the departure from Madeleine Bay. Only, so as to make up for the fortnight which was to have been spent at Cook’s Islands, it was decided to go to Samoa, steering north-west so as to touch at the Tonga Islands.
When this decision was known the Malays could not hide their satisfaction.
After all, what could be more natural, and had they not reason to be glad that the council of notables had not renounced its plan of putting them ashore at the New Hebrides?
CHAPTER II.
If the horizon of Floating Island seemed to be clearer in one respect, inasmuch as relations were much less acute between the Larboardites and Starboardites owing to the feelings mutually experienced by Walter Tankerdon and Di Coverley, so that the governor and superintendent believed that the future would not be complicated by intestine quarrels, the Pearl of the Pacific was none the less in danger of its existence. It was difficult to see how it could escape a catastrophe which had been so long in preparation. The farther it went towards the west the nearer it became to the regions where its destruction was certain. And the author of this criminal machination was no other than Captain Sarol.
In fact it was not by mere accident that the Malays had come to the Sandwich Islands. The ketch had put in at Honolulu with the intention of waiting for Floating Island at its annual visit. To follow it after its departure, to cruise in its waters without exciting suspicion, to be received as a shipwrecked crew, as they could not obtain admittance as passengers, and then, under pretext of being returned to their own country, to direct it towards the New Hebrides, had been Captain Sarol’s plan all through.
We know how this plan in its first developments had been put into execution. The collision between the ketch and the other vessel was imaginary. No ship had run into them in the vicinity of the Equator. It was the Malays who had scuttled their ship, but in such a way that they could keep it afloat until the arrival of the assistance demanded by the signal of distress, and then sink when the launch from Starboard Harbour had taken off the crew. In this manner no suspicion could exist with regard to the collision, and no one could doubt they were a shipwrecked crew when their ship was seen to sink, so that a shelter could not well be denied them.
It is true that the governor might not care to keep them. Perhaps there were regulations forbidding strangers to reside on the island? Perhaps it might be decided to land them on the nearest archipelago? That was a risk to run, and Captain Sarol ran it. But after the favourable opinion of the company it was resolved to keep the shipwrecked crew on the island, and take them within sight of the New Hebrides.
Such had been the course of events. For four months Captain Sarol and his ten Malays had been living at liberty on Floating Island. They had been exploring it throughout and penetrating all its secrets, and had neglected nothing in this respect. That suited them exactly. For a moment they had reason to fear that the itinerary would be modified by the council of notables, and they had been anxious to such an extent that their anxiety might seem suspicious. Fortunately for their plans, the itinerary had not been altered. In another three months Floating Island would arrive among the New Hebrides, and then would take place a catastrophe unequalled among disasters of the sea.
This archipelago of the New Hebrides is dangerous to navigation, not only by reason of the reefs which are scattered about it, and the rapidity of the currents, but also on account of the native ferocity of a part of its population. Since the epoch when it had been discovered by Quiros in 1706, since it had been explored by Bougainville in 1768, and by Cook in 1773, it had been the theatre of horrible massacres, and its evil reputation was enough to justify the fears of Sebastien Zorn regarding the result of this maritime campaign. Kanakas, Papuans, Malays, are there mingled with Australian blacks—perfidious, dastardly, refractory to every attempt at civilization. A few of the islands of the group are regular nests of rascals, and their inhabitants only live by piracies.
Captain Sarol, a Malay by birth, belonged to this class of pirates, whalers, sandalwood traders, slave dealers, who, as has been noticed by Doctor Hagon in his voyage in the New Hebrides, infest these regions. Audacious, enterprising, well acquainted with these archipelagoes of ill-repute, thoroughly master of his trade, having more than once been in command of bloodthirsty expeditions, this Sarol was no novice, and his deeds had made him notorious in this part of the Western Pacific.
A few months before, Captain Sarol and his companions having for their accomplices the murderous population of the Island of Erromango, one of the New Hebrides, had prepared an attempt which, if it succeeded, would enable them to live as respectable people wherever they pleased. They knew the reputation of this Floating Island, which the year before had voyaged in the tropics. They knew what incalculable riches were to be found in this opulent Milliard City. But as it was not likely to venture
so far to the west, it was necessary to allure it within sight of this savage Erromango, where everything was prepared for assuring its complete destruction.
On the other hand, although they would be reinforced by the natives of the neighbouring islands, these New Hebrideans had no intention of attacking Floating Island when in the open sea as if it were an ordinary merchant vessel, nor of boarding it from a fleet of canoes. Thanks to the sentiments of humanity the Malays had been able to take advantage of, without awaking suspicion, Floating Island would arrive in the neighbourhood of Erromango. She would anchor a short distance from the island. Thousands of natives would invade her by surprise. They would throw her on the rocks. They would smash her. They would hand her over to pillage, to massacre. In truth this horrible plot had many chances of success. In return for the hospitality accorded to Captain Sarol and his accomplices, the Milliardites were advancing to a supreme catastrophe.
On the 9th of December, Commodore Simcoe reached the hundred and seventy-first meridian, at its intersection with the fifteenth parallel. Between this meridian and the hundred and seventy-fifth lies the group of Samoa, visited by Bougainville in 1768, by La Perouse in 1787, by Edwards in 1791. Rose Island was first sighted in the north-west—an inhabited island which did not even deserve the honour of a visit.
Two days afterwards the island of Manona was sighted, flanked by the two islets of Olosaga and Ofou. Its highest point rises seven hundred and sixty metres above sea level. Although it contains about two thousand inhabitants, it is not the most interesting island of the archipelago, and the governor gave no order to stop at it. It was better to stay a fortnight at the islands of Tetuila, Upolu, Savai, the most beautiful of the group. Manona rejoices in a certain celebrity in maritime annals. It was on its shores at Ma Oma that many of Cook’s companions perished, at the head of a bay which still retains its well justified name of Massacre Bay.
Twenty leagues separate Manona from Tetuila, its neighbour. Floating Island approached it during the night of the 14th of December. That evening the quartette, who were walking in the vicinity of Prow Battery, had “smelt” Tetuila, although it was still several miles away. The air was laden with the most delicious perfumes.
“It is not an island,” said Pinchinat, “it is Piver’s shop, it is Lubin’s manufactory, it is a fashionable perfumer’s warehouse.”
“If your Highness does not object,” observed Yvernès, “I prefer to compare it to a casket of perfumes.”
“Well, a scent-box, then,” replied Pinchinat, who had no wish to oppose the poetic flights of his comrade.
And in truth it seemed as though a current of perfumes were being borne by the breeze over the surface of these wonderful waters. These were the emanations of that scented tree to which the Kanakas of Samoa have given the name of moussooi.
At sunrise, Floating Island was coasting along Tetuila, at about six cables’ length from its northern shore. It looked like a basket of verdure, or rather tier upon tier of forests, rising to the summits, of which the highest exceeds seventeen hundred metres. A few islets lay in front of it, among others that of Amru. Hundreds of elegant canoes manned by powerful, half naked natives, working their paddles to a Samoan song in two-four time, were acting as an escort. From fifty to sixty men were in some of them. This is no exaggeration for these long vessels, which are strongly enough built to go far out to sea. Our Parisians then understood why the early Europeans had given this archipelago the name of Navigators’ Islands. But its true geographical name is Hamoa, or preferably Samoa.
Savai, Upolu, Tetuila, stretching from north-west to south-east; Olosaga, Ofou, Manona, scattered to the southeast, such are the principal islands of this group of volcanic origin. Its total area is about two thousand eight hundred square kilometres, and it has a population of thirty-five thousand six hundred inhabitants. It is necessary therefore to reduce the estimates of the first explorers by one half.
Be it observed that none of these islands could offer such favourable climatic conditions as Floating Island. The temperature ranges between twenty-six and thirty-four degrees centigrade. July and August are the coldest months, and the highest temperature occurs in February. From December to April the Samoans are deluged with abundant rains, and this is also the period when occur the storms and hurricanes so fruitful of disasters.
The trade, which is chiefly in the hands of the English, and in a minor degree of the Americans and Germans, amounts to about eighteen hundred thousand francs of imports and nine hundred thousand francs for exports. It consists mainly of agricultural products, cotton—the cultivation of which increased every year—and coprah, that is, the dried kernel of the cocoanut.
The population, which is of Malayo-Polynesian origin, contains about three hundred whites and a few thousand labourers from different islands of Melanesia. Since 1830 the missionaries have converted the Samoans to Christianity, but they retain a few of the practices of their ancient religious rites. The great majority of the natives are Protestants, owing to the influence of Germany and England. Nevertheless Catholicism has a few thousand converts, which the Mariste Fathers are doing their best to increase in number with a view of opposing Anglo-Saxon proselytism.
Floating Island stopped at the south of Tetuila, at the opening of Pago—Pago roadstead. This is the real port of the island, whose capital is Leone, situated in the central portion. This time there was no difficulty between Cyrus Bikerstaff and the Samoan authorities. Free pratique was accorded. It is not at Tetuila but at Upolu that the sovereign of the archipelago resides, and where the English, American, and German residencies are established. There were no official receptions. A certain number of Samoans took advantage of the opportunity of visiting Milliard City and its environs, while the Milliardites were assured that the population of the group would give them a cordial welcome.
The port is at the head of the bay. The shelter it offers against the winds from the offing is excellent and its access easy. Ships of war often put in there.
Among the first to land we need not be astonished at meeting Sebastien Zorn and his three comrades, accompanied by the superintendent, who had asked to join them. Calistus Munbar was as usual delightful and in high spirits. He had ascertained that an excursion to Leone in carriages drawn by New Zealand horses had been arranged among three or four families of notables. As the Coverleys and Tankerdons were going, perhaps there might be a meeting between Walter and Di, which would anything but displease him.
During the walk with the quartette he began talking about this great event in his usual grandiose way.
“My friends,” he said, “we are in a regular comic opera. With a lucky accident we shall arrive at the end of the piece. A horse runs away—a carriage upsets—”
“An attack of brigands!” said Yvernès.
“A general massacre of the excursionists!” added Pinchinat.
“And that might happen!” growled the violoncellist in a funereal voice, as if he were down in the depths of his fourth string.
“No, my friends, no!” said Calistus Munbar. “Don’t let us go as far as a massacre! We need not go to that. Let us have a nice sort of accident, in which Walter Tankerdon will be lucky enough to save the life of Miss Coverley.”
“And then a little music from Boieldieu or Auber!” said Pinchinat, working his hand as if he were turning the handle of a barrel-organ.
“And so,” said Frascolin, “you are still thinking of this marriage?”
“Think of it, my dear Frascolin! I dream of it night and day! I am losing my good humour, though I do not look like it! I am getting thinner, though you would not think so! I shall die if it does not take place.”
“It will,” said Yvernès, in a voice of prophetic sonority, “for God does not at present require the death of your Excellency.”
And they entered a native inn, and drank to the health of the future couple in several glasses of cocoa milk, while they ate some luscious bananas.
Quite a joy to the eyes of the Pari
sians was this Samoan population in the streets of Pago-Pago, and amid the trees which surrounded the harbour. The men are of a stature above the average, their colour of a yellowish brown, their heads round, their bodies powerful, their limbs muscular, their faces gentle and jovial. Perhaps there was too much tattooing on their arms and bodies and even on their thighs, which were imperfectly hidden under a petticoat of grass and leaves. Their hair was black, straight or waved, according to the taste of native dandyism. But under the coating of white lime with which it was plastered it formed a wig.
“Savages in the style of Louis XV.!” said Pinchinat. “They only want the cloak, the sword, the breeches, the stockings, the red-heeled shoes, the plumed hat, and the snuff-box, to figure at the receptions at Versailles.”
The Samoans, women or girls, are as rudimentarily clothed as the men, tattooed on the hands and breast, their heads garlanded with gardenias, their necks ornamented with collars of red hibiscus, fully justifying the admiration with which they were described by the early navigators— at least, such as were young. But they were distant, and of rather affected prudery. Graceful and smiling, they enchanted the quartette, wishing them the kalofa, that is, the good morning, in a sweet and melodious voice.
An excursion, or rather a pilgrimage, which our tourists had wished for, and which they performed on the morrow, gave them the opportunity of traversing the island from one shore to the other. One of the country carriages took them to the opposite coast at França Bay, the name of which recalls a remembrance of France. There, on a monument of white coral, raised in 1884, is a plate of bronze bearing in engraved letters the never-to-be-forgotten names of Commandant De Langle, the naturalist Lamanon, and nine sailors, the companions of La Perouse, who were massacred here on the 11th of December, 1787.
Sebastien Zorn and his comrades returned to Pago-Pago through the interior of the island. What wonderful masses of trees, interlaced with lianas, cocoanut-trees, wild bananas, and many native species suitable for cabinet-making. Over the country stretched fields of taro, sugar-cane, coffee plantations, cotton plantations, cinnamon-trees. Everywhere orange-trees, guava-trees, mangoes, avocado-trees, and climbing-plants, orchids and arborescent shrubs. A flora astonishingly rich from this fertile soil, fertilized by a humid and warm climate. The Samoan fauna, reduced to a few birds, a few almost inoffensive reptiles, contains among its mammals only a small rat, the sole representative of the rodents.
