rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_dba9d231-6f42-5abd-924b-83adce7505b5">Chapter 45. Missionary's Sermon; with some Reflections
Chapter 46. Something about the Kannakippers
Chapter 47. How they dress in Tahiti
Chapter 49. Same Subject continued
Chapter 50. Something happens to Long Ghost
Chapter 51. Wilson gives us the Cut—Departure for Imeeo
Chapter 52. The Valley of Martair
Chapter 53. Farming in Polynesia
Chapter 54. Some Account of the Wild Cattle in Polynesia
Chapter 55. A Hunting Ramble with Zeke
Chapter 57. The Second Hunt in the Mountains
Chapter 58. The Hunting-Feast; and a Visit to Afrehitoo
Chapter 60. What they thought of us in Martair
Chapter 61. Preparing for the Journey
Chapter 63. A Dance in the Valley
Chapter 65. The Hegira, or Flight
Chapter 66. How we were to get to Taloo
Chapter 67. The Journey round the Beach
Chapter 68. A Dinner-Party in Imeeo
Chapter 71. We start for Taloo
Chapter 72. A Dealer in the Contraband
Chapter 73. Our Reception in Partoowye
Chapter 74. Retiring for the Night—The Doctor grows devout
Chapter 75. A Ramble through the Settlement
Chapter 76. An Island Jilt—We visit the Ship
Chapter 77. A Party of Rovers—Little Loo and the Doctor
Chapter 79. Taloo Chapel—Holding Court in Polynesia
Chapter 81. We visit the Court
Chapter 82. Which ends the Book
PART 1
CHAPTER 1
MY RECEPTION ABOARD
It was the middle of a bright tropical afternoon that we made good our escape from the bay. The vessel we sought lay with her main-topsail aback about a league from the land, and was the only object that broke the broad expanse of the ocean.
On approaching, she turned out to be a small, slatternly-looking craft, her hull and spars a dingy black, rigging all slack and bleached nearly white, and everything denoting an ill state of affairs aboard. The four boats hanging from her sides proclaimed her a whaler. Leaning carelessly over the bulwarks were the sailors, wild, haggard-looking fellows in Scotch caps and faded blue frocks; some of them with cheeks of a mottled bronze, to which sickness soon changes the rich berry-brown of a seaman's complexion in the tropics.
On the quarter-deck was one whom I took for the chief mate. He wore a broad-brimmed Panama hat, and his spy-glass was levelled as we advanced.
When we came alongside, a low cry ran fore and aft the deck, and everybody gazed at us with inquiring eyes. And well they might. To say nothing of the savage boat's crew, panting with excitement,
