the schooner turned upon her heel; the anchor plunged. It was a

small sound, a great event; my soul went down with these moorings

whence no windlass may extract nor any diver fish it up; and I, and

some part of my ship's company, were from that hour the bondslaves

of the isles of Vivien.

Before yet the anchor plunged a canoe was already paddling from the

hamlet. It contained two men: one white, one brown and tattooed

across the face with bands of blue, both in immaculate white

European clothes: the resident trader, Mr. Regler, and the native

chief, Taipi-Kikino. 'Captain, is it permitted to come on board?'

were the first words we heard among the islands. Canoe followed

canoe till the ship swarmed with stalwart, six-foot men in every

stage of undress; some in a shirt, some in a loin-cloth, one in a

handkerchief imperfectly adjusted; some, and these the more

considerable, tattooed from head to foot in awful patterns; some

barbarous and knived; one, who sticks in my memory as something

bestial, squatting on his hams in a canoe, sucking an orange and

spitting it out again to alternate sides with ape-like vivacity--

all talking, and we could not understand one word; all trying to

trade with us who had no thought of trading, or offering us island

curios at prices palpably absurd. There was no word of welcome; no

show of civility; no hand extended save that of the chief and Mr.

Regler. As we still continued to refuse the proffered articles,

complaint ran high and rude; and one, the jester of the party,

railed upon our meanness amid jeering laughter. Amongst other

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