prompt:
Chapter: SADLY discursive as I have already been, I must still further entreat
the reader's patience, as I am about to string together, without any
attempt at order, a few odds and ends of things not hitherto mentioned,
but which are either curious in themselves or peculiar to the Typees.

There was one singular custom observed in old Marheyo's domestic
establishment, which often excited my surprise. Every night, before
retiring, the inmates of the house gathered together on the mats, and
so squatting upon their haunches, after the universal practice of
these islanders, would commence a low, dismal and monotonous chant,
accompanying the voice with the instrumental melody produced by two
small half-rotten sticks tapped slowly together, a pair of which
were held in the hands of each person present. Thus would they employ
themselves for an hour or two, sometimes longer. Lying in the gloom
which wrapped the further end of the house, I could not avoid looking
at them, although the spectacle suggested nothing but unpleasant
reflection. The flickering rays of the 'armor' nut just served to reveal
their savage lineaments, without dispelling the darkness that hovered
about them.

Sometimes when, after falling into a kind of doze, and awaking suddenly
in the midst of these doleful chantings, my eye would fall upon the
wild-looking group engaged in their strange occupation, with their naked
tattooed limbs, and shaven heads disposed in a circle, I was almost
tempted to believe that I gazed upon a set of evil beings in the act of
working at a frightful incantation.

What was the meaning or purpose of this custom, whether it was practiced
merely as a diversion, or whether it was a religious exercise, a sort of
family prayers, I never could discover.

The sounds produced by the natives on these occasions were of a most
singular description; and had I not actually been present, I never would
have believed that such curious noises could have been produced by human
beings.

To savages generally is imputed a guttural articulation. This however,
is not always the case, especially among the inhabitants of the
Polynesian Archipelago. The labial melody with which the Typee girls
carry on an ordinary conversation, giving a musical prolongation to the
final syllable of every sentence, and chirping out some of the words
with a liquid, bird-like accent, was singularly pleasing.

The men however, are not quite so harmonious in their utterance, and
when excited upon any subject, would work themselves up into a sort of
wordy paroxysm, during which all descriptions of rough-sided sounds
were projected from their mouths, with a force and rapidity which was
absolutely astonishing.

      . . . . .  .  .  .

Although these savages are remarkably fond of chanting, still they
appear to have no idea whatever of singing, at least as the art is
practised in other nations.

I shall never forget the first time I happened to roar out a stave
in the presence of noble Mehevi. It was a stanza from the 'Bavarian
broom-seller'. His Typeean majesty, with all his court, gazed upon me in
amazement, as if I had displayed some preternatural faculty which Heaven
had denied to them. The King was delighted with the verse; but the
chorus fairly transported him. At his solicitation I sang it again and
again, and nothing could be more ludicrous than his vain attempts to
catch the air and the words. The royal savage seemed to think that by
screwing all the features of his face into the end of his nose he
might possibly succeed in the undertaking, but it failed to answer the
purpose; and in the end he gave it up, and consoled himself by listening
to my repetition of the sounds fifty times over.

Previous to Mehevi's making the discovery, I had never been aware that
there was anything of the nightingale about me; but I was now promoted
to the place of court-minstrel, in which capacity I was afterwards
perpetually called upon to officiate.

      . . . . .  .  .  .

Besides the sticks and the drums, there are no other musical instruments
among the Typees, except one which might appropriately be denominated a
nasal flute. It is somewhat longer than an ordinary fife; is made of
a beautiful scarlet-coloured reed; and has four or five stops, with
a large hole near one end, which latter is held just beneath the left
nostril. The other nostril being closed by a peculiar movement of the
muscles about the nose, the breath is forced into the tube, and produces
a soft dulcet sound which is varied by the fingers running at random
over the stops. This is a favourite recreation with the females and one
in which Fayaway greatly excelled. Awkward as such an instrument may
appear, it was, in Fayaway's delicate little hands, one of the most
graceful I have ever seen. A young lady, in the act of tormenting a
guitar strung about her neck by a couple of yards of blue ribbon, is not
half so engaging.

      . . . . .  .  .  .

Singing was not the only means I possessed of diverting the royal Mehevi
and his easy-going subject. Nothing afforded them more pleasure than to
see me go through the attitude of pugilistic encounter. As not one of
the natives had soul enough in him to stand up like a man, and allow me
to hammer away at him, for my own personal gratification and that of
the king, I was necessitated to fight with an imaginary enemy, whom I
invariably made to knock under to my superior prowess. Sometimes when
this sorely battered shadow retreated precipitately towards a group of
the savages, and, following him up, I rushed among them dealing my
blows right and left, they would disperse in all directions much to the
enjoyment of Mehevi, the chiefs, and themselves.

The noble art of self-defence appeared to be regarded by them as the
peculiar gift of the white man; and I make little doubt that they
supposed armies of Europeans were drawn up provided with nothing else
but bony fists and stout hearts, with which they set to in column, and
pummelled one another at the word of command.

      . . . . .  .  .  .

One day, in company with Kory-Kory, I had repaired to the stream for the
purpose of bathing, when I observed a woman sitting upon a rock in
the midst of the current, and watching with the liveliest interest the
gambols of something, which at first I took to be an uncommonly large
species of frog that was sporting in the water near her. Attracted by
the novelty of the sight, I waded towards the spot where she sat, and
could hardly credit the evidence of my senses when I beheld a little
infant, the period of whose birth could not have extended back many
days, paddling about as if it had just risen to the surface, after being
hatched into existence at the bottom. Occasionally, the delighted parent
reached out her hand towards it, when the little thing, uttering a faint
cry, and striking out its tiny limbs, would sidle for the rock, and the
next moment be clasped to its mother's bosom. This was repeated again
and again, the baby remaining in the stream about a minute at a time.
Once or twice it made wry faces at swallowing a mouthful of water, and
choked a spluttered as if on the point of strangling. At such times
however, the mother snatched it up and by a process scarcely to be
mentioned obliged it to eject the fluid. For several weeks afterwards
I observed this woman bringing her child down to the stream regularly
every day, in the cool of the morning and evening and treating it to a
bath. No wonder that the South Sea Islanders are so amphibious a race,
when they are thus launched into the water as soon as they see the
light. I am convinced that it is as natural for a human being to swim as
it is for a duck. And yet in civilized communities how many able-bodied
individuals die, like so many drowning kittens, from the occurrence of
the most trivial accidents!

       . . . . .  .  .  .

The long luxuriant and glossy tresses of the Typee damsels often
attracted my admiration. A fine head of hair is the pride and joy of
every woman's heart. Whether against the express will of Providence, it
is twisted upon the crown of the head and there coiled away like a rope
on a ship's deck; whether it be stuck behind the ears and hangs down
like the swag of a small window-curtain; or whether it be permitted to
flow over the shoulders in natural ringlets, it is always the pride of
the owner, and the glory of the toilette.

The Typee girls devote much of their time to the dressing of their fair
and redundant locks. After bathing, as they sometimes do five or six
times every day, the hair is carefully dried, and if they have been in
the sea, invariably washed in fresh water, and anointed with a highly
scented oil extracted from the meat of the cocoanut. This oil is
obtained in great abundance by the following very simple process:

A large vessel of wood, with holes perforated in the bottom, is filled
with the pounded meat, and exposed to the rays of the sun. As the
oleaginous matter exudes, it falls in drops through the apertures into a
wide-mouthed calabash placed underneath. After a sufficient quantity has
thus been collected, the oil undergoes a purifying process, and is then
poured into the small spherical shells of the nuts of the moo-tree,
which are hollowed out to receive it. These nuts are then hermetically
sealed with a resinous gum, and the vegetable fragrance of their green
rind soon imparts to the oil a delightful odour. After the lapse of a
few weeks the exterior shell of the nuts becomes quite dry and hard, and
assumes a beautiful carnation tint; and when opened they are found to
be about two-thirds full of an ointment of a light yellow colour and
diffusing the sweetest perfume. This elegant little odorous globe would
not be out of place even upon the toilette of a queen. Its merits as a
preparation for the hair are undeniable--it imparts to it a superb gloss
and a silky fineness.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Each night before the Typees go to bed, they chant together. This chanting can last for several hours and everyone in the household is involved. Tommo never learns exactly what purpose this chanting is supposed to serve. He assumes that it is part of a Typee religious ritual. Even though they chant, however, the natives do not sing. The first time Tommo sings for Mehevi, Mehevi appears enchanted. The Typees are musical in other ways though. Some play a small flute that makes sound with air coming from the nose. Fayaway is a particularly gifted player of this flute. Sometimes Tommo pretends that he is boxing with people in order to entertain the chiefs. One day, Tommo sees a Typee mother teaching her young baby how to swim. He then realizes why Typees all are such good swimmers. They start as soon as they are born. The narrator then describes the technique for making the coconut oil that Typee women rub into their hair each day to make it luxurious. He greatly admires their tresses


prompt:
Chapter: FROM the time of my casual encounter with Karky the artist, my life was
one of absolute wretchedness. Not a day passed but I was persecuted by
the solicitations of some of the natives to subject myself to the odious
operation of tattooing. Their importunities drove me half wild, for I
felt how easily they might work their will upon me regarding this or
anything else which they took into their heads. Still, however, the
behaviour of the islanders towards me was as kind as ever. Fayaway was
quite as engaging; Kory-Kory as devoted; and Mehevi the king just as
gracious and condescending as before. But I had now been three months in
their valley, as nearly as I could estimate; I had grown familiar with
the narrow limits to which my wandering had been confined; and I began
bitterly to feel the state of captivity in which I was held. There
was no one with whom I could freely converse; no one to whom I could
communicate my thoughts; no one who could sympathize with my sufferings.
A thousand times I thought how much more endurable would have been my
lot had Toby still been with me. But I was left alone, and the thought
was terrible to me. Still, despite my griefs, I did all in my power
to appear composed and cheerful, well knowing that by manifesting any
uneasiness, or any desire to escape, I should only frustrate my object.

It was during the period I was in this unhappy frame of mind that the
painful malady under which I had been labouring--after having almost
completely subsided--began again to show itself, and with symptoms as
violent as ever. This added calamity nearly unmanned me; the recurrence
of the complaint proved that without powerful remedial applications
all hope of cure was futile; and when I reflected that just beyond the
elevations, which bound me in, was the medical relief I needed, and that
although so near, it was impossible for me to avail myself of it, the
thought was misery.

In this wretched situation, every circumstance which evinced the
savage nature of the beings at whose mercy I was, augmented the fearful
apprehensions that consumed me. An occurrence which happened about this
time affected me most powerfully.

I have already mentioned that from the ridge-pole of Marheyo's house
were suspended a number of packages enveloped in tappa. Many of these I
had often seen in the hands of the natives, and their contents had been
examined in my presence. But there were three packages hanging
very nearly over the place where I lay, which from their remarkable
appearance had often excited my curiosity. Several times I had asked
Kory-Kory to show me their contents, but my servitor, who, in almost
every other particular had acceded to my wishes, refused to gratify me
in this.

One day, returning unexpectedly from the 'Ti', my arrival seemed to
throw the inmates of the house into the greatest confusion. They were
seated together on the mats, and by the lines which extended from the
roof to the floor I immediately perceived that the mysterious packages
were for some purpose or another under inspection. The evident alarm
the savages betrayed filled me with forebodings of evil, and with an
uncontrollable desire to penetrate the secret so jealously guarded.
Despite the efforts of Marheyo and Kory-Kory to restrain me, I forced
my way into the midst of the circle, and just caught a glimpse of three
human heads, which others of the party were hurriedly enveloping in the
coverings from which they had been taken.

One of the three I distinctly saw. It was in a state of perfect
preservation, and from the slight glimpse I had of it, seemed to have
been subjected to some smoking operation which had reduced it to the
dry, hard, and mummy-like appearance it presented. The two long scalp
locks were twisted up into balls upon the crown of the head in the same
way that the individual had worn them during life. The sunken cheeks
were rendered yet more ghastly by the rows of glistening teeth which
protruded from between the lips, while the sockets of the eyes--filled
with oval bits of mother-of-pearl shell, with a black spot in the
centre--heightened the hideousness of its aspect.

Two of the three were heads of the islanders; but the third, to my
horror, was that of a white man. Although it had been quickly removed
from my sight, still the glimpse I had of it was enough to convince me
that I could not be mistaken.

Gracious God! what dreadful thoughts entered my head; in solving this
mystery perhaps I had solved another, and the fate of my lost companion
might be revealed in the shocking spectacle I had just witnessed. I
longed to have torn off the folds of cloth and satisfied the awful
doubts under which I laboured. But before I had recovered from the
consternation into which I had been thrown, the fatal packages were
hoisted aloft, and once more swung over my head. The natives now
gathered round me tumultuously, and laboured to convince me that what
I had just seen were the heads of three Happar warriors, who had been
slain in battle. This glaring falsehood added to my alarm, and it was
not until I reflected that I had observed the packages swinging from
their elevation before Toby's disappearance, that I could at all recover
my composure.

But although this horrible apprehension had been dispelled, I had
discovered enough to fill me, in my present state of mind, with the most
bitter reflections. It was plain that I had seen the last relic of some
unfortunate wretch, who must have been massacred on the beach by the
savages, in one of those perilous trading adventures which I have before
described.

It was not, however, alone the murder of the stranger that overcame me
with gloom. I shuddered at the idea of the subsequent fate his inanimate
body might have met with. Was the same doom reserved for me? Was I
destined to perish like him--like him perhaps, to be devoured and my
head to be preserved as a fearful memento of the events? My imagination
ran riot in these horrid speculations, and I felt certain that the
worst possible evils would befall me. But whatever were my misgivings, I
studiously concealed them from the islanders, as well as the full extent
of the discovery I had made.

Although the assurances which the Typees had often given me, that they
never eat human flesh, had not convinced me that such was the case, yet,
having been so long a time in the valley without witnessing anything
which indicated the existence of the practice, I began to hope that it
was an event of very rare occurrence, and that I should be spared the
horror of witnessing it during my stay among them: but, alas, these
hopes were soon destroyed.

It is a singular fact, that in all our accounts of cannibal tribes we
have seldom received the testimony of an eye-witness account to this
revolting practice. The horrible conclusion has almost always been
derived from the second-hand evidence of Europeans, or else from the
admissions of the savages themselves, after they have in some degree
become civilized. The Polynesians are aware of the detestation in which
Europeans hold this custom, and therefore invariably deny its existence,
and with the craft peculiar to savages, endeavour to conceal every trace
of it.

The excessive unwillingness betrayed by the Sandwich Islanders, even at
the present day, to allude to the unhappy fate of Cook, has often been
remarked. And so well have they succeeded in covering the event with
mystery, that to this very hour, despite all that has been said and
written on the subject, it still remains doubtful whether they wreaked
upon his murdered body the vengeance they sometimes inflicted upon their
enemies.

At Kealakekau, the scene of that tragedy, a strip of ship's copper
nailed against an upright post in the ground used to inform
the traveller that beneath reposed the 'remains' of the great
circumnavigator. But I am strongly inclined to believe not only the
corpse was refused Christian burial, but that the heart which was
brought to Vancouver some time after the event, and which the Hawaiians
stoutly maintained was that of Captain Cook, was no such thing; and that
the whole affair was a piece of imposture which was sought to be palmed
off upon the credulous Englishman.

A few years since there was living on the island of Maui (one of the
Sandwich group) an old chief, who, actuated by a morbid desire for
notoriety, gave himself out among the foreign residents of the place
as the living tomb of Captain Cook's big toe!--affirming that at the
cannibal entertainment which ensued after the lamented Briton's death,
that particular portion of his body had fallen to his share. His
indignant countrymen actually caused him to be prosecuted in the native
courts, on a charge nearly equivalent to what we term defamation of
character; but the old fellow persisting in his assertion, and no
invalidating proof being adduced, the plaintiffs were cast in the suit,
and the cannibal reputation of the defendant firmly established. This
result was the making of his fortune; ever afterwards he was in the
habit of giving very profitable audiences to all curious travellers who
were desirous of beholding the man who had eaten the great navigator's
great toe.

About a week after my discovery of the contents of the mysterious
packages, I happened to be at the Ti, when another war-alarm was
sounded, and the natives rushing to their arms, sallied out to resist
a second incursion of the Happar invaders. The same scene was again
repeated, only that on this occasion I heard at least fifteen reports of
muskets from the mountains during the time that the skirmish lasted.
An hour or two after its termination, loud paeans chanted through the
valley announced the approach of the victors. I stood with Kory-Kory
leaning against the railing of the pi-pi awaiting their advance, when
a tumultuous crowd of islanders emerged with wild clamours from
the neighbouring groves. In the midst of them marched four men, one
preceding the other at regular intervals of eight or ten feet, with
poles of a corresponding length, extending from shoulder to shoulder,
to which were lashed with thongs of bark three long narrow bundles,
carefully wrapped in ample coverings of freshly plucked palm-leaves,
tacked together with slivers of bamboo. Here and there upon these green
winding-sheets might be seen the stains of blood, while the warriors who
carried the frightful burdens displayed upon their naked limbs similar
sanguinary marks. The shaven head of the foremost had a deep gash upon
it, and the clotted gore which had flowed from the wound remained in dry
patches around it. The savage seemed to be sinking under the weight
he bore. The bright tattooing upon his body was covered with blood
and dust; his inflamed eyes rolled in their sockets, and his whole
appearance denoted extraordinary suffering and exertion; yet sustained
by some powerful impulse, he continued to advance, while the throng
around him with wild cheers sought to encourage him. The other three men
were marked about the arms and breasts with several slight wounds, which
they somewhat ostentatiously displayed.

These four individuals, having been the most active in the late
encounter, claimed the honour of bearing the bodies of their slain
enemies to the Ti. Such was the conclusion I drew from my own
observations, and, as far as I could understand, from the explanation
which Kory-Kory gave me.

The royal Mehevi walked by the side of these heroes. He carried in one
hand a musket, from the barrel of which was suspended a small canvas
pouch of powder, and in the other he grasped a short javelin, which he
held before him and regarded with fierce exultation. This javelin he had
wrested from a celebrated champion of the Happars, who had ignominiously
fled, and was pursued by his foes beyond the summit of the mountain.

When within a short distance of the Ti, the warrior with the wounded
head, who proved to be Narmonee, tottered forward two or three steps,
and fell helplessly to the ground; but not before another had caught the
end of the pole from his shoulder, and placed it upon his own.

The excited throng of islanders, who surrounded the person of the king
and the dead bodies of the enemy, approached the spot where I stood,
brandishing their rude implements of warfare, many of which were bruised
and broken, and uttering continual shouts of triumph. When the crowd
drew up opposite the Ti, I set myself to watch their proceedings most
attentively; but scarcely had they halted when my servitor, who had left
my side for an instant, touched my arm and proposed our returning to
Marheyo's house. To this I objected; but, to my surprise, Kory-Kory
reiterated his request, and with an unusual vehemence of manner. Still,
however, I refused to comply, and was retreating before him, as in his
importunity he pressed upon me, when I felt a heavy hand laid upon my
shoulder, and turning round, encountered the bulky form of Mow-Mow, a
one-eyed chief, who had just detached himself from the crowd below, and
had mounted the rear of the pi-pi upon which we stood. His cheek had
been pierced by the point of a spear, and the wound imparted a still
more frightful expression to his hideously tattooed face, already
deformed by the loss of an eye. The warrior, without uttering a
syllable, pointed fiercely in the direction of Marheyo's house, while
Kory-Kory, at the same time presenting his back, desired me to mount.

I declined this offer, but intimated my willingness to withdraw, and
moved slowly along the piazza, wondering what could be the cause of this
unusual treatment. A few minutes' consideration convinced me that the
savages were about to celebrate some hideous rite in connection with
their peculiar customs, and at which they were determined I should not
be present. I descended from the pi-pi, and attended by Kory-Kory, who
on this occasion did not show his usual commiseration for my lameness,
but seemed only anxious to hurry me on, walked away from the place. As I
passed through the noisy throng, which by this time completely environed
the Ti, I looked with fearful curiosity at the three packages, which now
were deposited upon the ground; but although I had no doubt as to their
contents, still their thick coverings prevented my actually detecting
the form of a human body.

The next morning, shortly after sunrise, the same thundering sounds
which had awakened me from sleep on the second day of the Feast of
Calabashes, assured me that the savages were on the eve of celebrating
another, and, as I fully believed, a horrible solemnity.

All the inmates of the house, with the exception of Marheyo, his son,
and Tinor, after assuming their gala dresses, departed in the direction
of the Taboo Groves.

Although I did not anticipate a compliance with my request, still, with
a view of testing the truth of my suspicions, I proposed to Kory-Kory
that, according to our usual custom in the morning, we should take a
stroll to the Ti: he positively refused; and when I renewed the request,
he evinced his determination to prevent my going there; and, to divert
my mind from the subject, he offered to accompany me to the stream. We
accordingly went, and bathed. On our coming back to the house, I was
surprised to find that all its inmates had returned, and were lounging
upon the mats as usual, although the drums still sounded from the
groves.

The rest of the day I spent with Kory-Kory and Fayaway, wandering about
a part of the valley situated in an opposite direction from the Ti,
and whenever I so much as looked towards that building, although it was
hidden from view by intervening trees, and at the distance of more than
a mile, my attendant would exclaim, 'Taboo, taboo!'

At the various houses where we stopped, I found many of the inhabitants
reclining at their ease, or pursuing some light occupation, as if
nothing unusual were going forward; but amongst them all I did not
perceive a single chief or warrior. When I asked several of the people
why they were not at the 'Hoolah Hoolah' (the feast), their uniformly
answered the question in a manner which implied that it was not intended
for them, but for Mehevi, Narmonee, Mow-Mow, Kolor, Womonoo, Kalow,
running over, in their desire to make me comprehend their meaning, the
names of all the principal chiefs.

Everything, in short, strengthened my suspicions with regard to the
nature of the festival they were now celebrating; and which amounted
almost to a certainty. While in Nukuheva I had frequently been informed
that the whole tribe were never present at these cannibal banquets, but
the chiefs and priests only; and everything I now observed agreed with
the account.

The sound of the drums continued without intermission the whole day, and
falling continually upon my ear, caused me a sensation of horror which I
am unable to describe. On the following day, hearing none of those
noisy indications of revelry, I concluded that the inhuman feast was
terminated; and feeling a kind of morbid curiosity to discover whether
the Ti might furnish any evidence of what had taken place there, I
proposed to Kory-Kory to walk there. To this proposition he replied
by pointing with his finger to the newly risen sun, and then up to the
zenith, intimating that our visit must be deferred until noon. Shortly
after that hour we accordingly proceeded to the Taboo Groves, and as
soon as we entered their precincts, I looked fearfully round in, quest
of some memorial of the scene which had so lately been acted there; but
everything appeared as usual. On reaching the Ti, we found Mehevi and a
few chiefs reclining on the mats, who gave me as friendly a reception as
ever. No allusions of any kind were made by them to the recent events;
and I refrained, for obvious reasons, from referring to them myself.

After staying a short time I took my leave. In passing along the piazza,
previously to descending from the pi-pi, I observed a curiously carved
vessel of wood, of considerable size, with a cover placed over it, of
the same material, and which resembled in shape a small canoe. It was
surrounded by a low railing of bamboos, the top of which was scarcely
a foot from the ground. As the vessel had been placed in its present
position since my last visit, I at once concluded that it must have
some connection with the recent festival, and, prompted by a curiosity
I could not repress, in passing it I raised one end of the cover; at the
same moment the chiefs, perceiving my design, loudly ejaculated, 'Taboo!
taboo!'

But the slight glimpse sufficed; my eyes fell upon the disordered
members of a human skeleton, the bones still fresh with moisture, and
with particles of flesh clinging to them here and there!

Kory-Kory, who had been a little in advance of me, attracted by
the exclamations of the chiefs, turned round in time to witness the
expression of horror on my countenance. He now hurried towards me,
pointing at the same time to the canoe, and exclaiming rapidly,
'Puarkee! puarkee!' (Pig, pig). I pretended to yield to the deception,
and repeated the words after him several times, as though acquiescing
in what he said. The other savages, either deceived by my conduct
or unwilling to manifest their displeasure at what could not now be
remedied, took no further notice of the occurrence, and I immediately
left the Ti.

All that night I lay awake, revolving in my mind the fearful situation
in which I was placed. The last horrid revelation had now been made, and
the full sense of my condition rushed upon my mind with a force I had
never before experienced.

Where, thought I, desponding, is there the slightest prospect of escape?
The only person who seemed to possess the ability to assist me was the
stranger Marnoo; but would he ever return to the valley? and if he did,
should I be permitted to hold any communication with him? It seemed as
if I were cut off from every source of hope, and that nothing remained
but passively to await whatever fate was in store for me. A thousand
times I endeavoured to account for the mysterious conduct of the
natives.

For what conceivable purpose did they thus retain me a captive? What
could be their object in treating me with such apparent kindness, and
did it not cover some treacherous scheme? Or, if they had no other
design than to hold me a prisoner, how should I be able to pass away my
days in this narrow valley, deprived of all intercourse with civilized
beings, and for ever separated from friends and home?

One only hope remained to me. The French could not long defer a visit
to the bay, and if they should permanently locate any of their troops
in the valley, the savages could not for any length of time conceal my
existence from them. But what reason had I to suppose that I should be
spared until such an event occurred, an event which might be postponed
by a hundred different contingencies?

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: After everyone starts badgering Tommo about getting tattooed, he feels alone and melancholy once again. His leg injury also painfully returns. He now has been with the Typees for about three months. One day, while in this unhappy frame of mind, he returns home to find Marheyo and some other men examining a package that normally is tied to the inside roof. Tommo previously wondered what was in that package. Now he sees that it holds three shrunken human heads, shriveled and preserved. Two of the heads are native, but one is European. The men quickly rewrap the packet and Kory-Kory starts promptly offering excuses. Tommo knows what he saw however. He again starts considering his fate, since if the Typees killed that white man they might kill him. Furthermore, Tommo wonders whether the head actually belongs to Toby, but he did not look at it long enough to know whether it was Toby's. About a week after seeing the heads, another fight with the Happars breaks out. Tommo remains in the village as the warriors all rush off. Sometime later, some injured Typees return carrying the bodies of several slain Happars. These bodies are deposited at Ti by the royal Mehevi. The other Typees surround the bodies and everyone is in an uproar. Tommo feels excited to see what will happen, but suddenly Kory-Kory touches his arm and indicates that they are going home. Tommo gestures that he does not want to go. Another fearsome looking chief, Mow- Mow, who lost one eye in a battle, angrily indicates that Tommo must leave. Kory-Kory and Tommo go. Back in the village, Tommo keeps trying to find out what is happening, but Kory-Kory watches him closely and he is not allowed to know. The next day everyone is in a festive mood. They walk and dress up in fine clothing, as they did for the Feast of the Calabashes. They all head towards Ti, but Tommo must stay home with Kory-Kory despite his efforts to do otherwise. Later in the day, he observes that everyone has returned home explaining that the feast was not for them. He then decides that, as he had heard earlier, it is the custom for the chiefs to eat the bodies of the slain enemies, not for everyone to do so, and this likely is what they are doing now. Tommo has to wait until the middle of the next day to visit the Ti. He finds nothing out of order, but sees a vessel in the center of the square. He manages to shift the lid of the vessel enough to get a glance. Inside, he sees a partially eaten body. The chiefs start wailing "taboo," but Tommo knows what he saw. Now that he is sure that the Typees are cannibals, he thinks more about escape


prompt:
Chapter: Six months at sea! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of
land; cruising after the sperm-whale beneath the scorching sun of the
Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific--the sky
above, the sea around, and nothing else! Weeks and weeks ago our fresh
provisions were all exhausted. There is not a sweet potato left; not a
single yam. Those glorious bunches of bananas, which once decorated
our stern and quarter-deck, have, alas, disappeared! and the delicious
oranges which hung suspended from our tops and stays--they, too, are
gone! Yes, they are all departed, and there is nothing left us but
salt-horse and sea-biscuit. Oh! ye state-room sailors, who make so
much ado about a fourteen-days' passage across the Atlantic; who so
pathetically relate the privations and hardships of the sea, where,
after a day of breakfasting, lunching, dining off five courses,
chatting, playing whist, and drinking champagne-punch, it was your hard
lot to be shut up in little cabinets of mahogany and maple, and sleep
for ten hours, with nothing to disturb you but 'those good-for-nothing
tars, shouting and tramping overhead',--what would ye say to our six
months out of sight of land?

Oh! for a refreshing glimpse of one blade of grass--for a snuff at the
fragrance of a handful of the loamy earth! Is there nothing fresh around
us? Is there no green thing to be seen? Yes, the inside of our bulwarks
is painted green; but what a vile and sickly hue it is, as if nothing
bearing even the semblance of verdure could flourish this weary way from
land. Even the bark that once clung to the wood we use for fuel has been
gnawed off and devoured by the captain's pig; and so long ago, too, that
the pig himself has in turn been devoured.

There is but one solitary tenant in the chicken-coop, once a gay and
dapper young cock, bearing him so bravely among the coy hens.

But look at him now; there he stands, moping all the day long on that
everlasting one leg of his. He turns with disgust from the mouldy corn
before him, and the brackish water in his little trough. He mourns no
doubt his lost companions, literally snatched from him one by one, and
never seen again. But his days of mourning will be few for Mungo, our
black cook, told me yesterday that the word had at last gone forth, and
poor Pedro's fate was sealed. His attenuated body will be laid out upon
the captain's table next Sunday, and long before night will be buried
with all the usual ceremonies beneath that worthy individual's vest. Who
would believe that there could be any one so cruel as to long for the
decapitation of the luckless Pedro; yet the sailors pray every minute,
selfish fellows, that the miserable fowl may be brought to his end. They
say the captain will never point the ship for the land so long as he
has in anticipation a mess of fresh meat. This unhappy bird can alone
furnish it; and when he is once devoured, the captain will come to his
senses. I wish thee no harm, Pedro; but as thou art doomed, sooner or
later, to meet the fate of all thy race; and if putting a period to
thy existence is to be the signal for our deliverance, why--truth to
speak--I wish thy throat cut this very moment; for, oh! how I wish to
see the living earth again! The old ship herself longs to look out upon
the land from her hawse-holes once more, and Jack Lewis said right the
other day when the captain found fault with his steering.

'Why d'ye see, Captain Vangs,' says bold Jack, 'I'm as good a helmsman
as ever put hand to spoke; but none of us can steer the old lady now. We
can't keep her full and bye, sir; watch her ever so close, she will fall
off and then, sir, when I put the helm down so gently, and try like to
coax her to the work, she won't take it kindly, but will fall round off
again; and it's all because she knows the land is under the lee, sir,
and she won't go any more to windward.' Aye, and why should she, Jack?
didn't every one of her stout timbers grow on shore, and hasn't she
sensibilities; as well as we?

Poor old ship! Her very looks denote her desires! how deplorably she
appears! The paint on her sides, burnt up by the scorching sun, is
puffed out and cracked. See the weeds she trails along with her, and
what an unsightly bunch of those horrid barnacles has formed about her
stern-piece; and every time she rises on a sea, she shows her copper
torn away, or hanging in jagged strips.

Poor old ship! I say again: for six months she has been rolling and
pitching about, never for one moment at rest. But courage, old lass, I
hope to see thee soon within a biscuit's toss of the merry land, riding
snugly at anchor in some green cove, and sheltered from the boisterous
winds.

        . . . . . .

'Hurra, my lads! It's a settled thing; next week we shape our course to
the Marquesas!' The Marquesas! What strange visions of outlandish things
does the very name spirit up! Naked houris--cannibal banquets--groves
of cocoanut--coral reefs--tattooed chiefs--and bamboo temples; sunny
valleys planted with bread-fruit-trees--carved canoes dancing on
the flashing blue waters--savage woodlands guarded by horrible
idols--HEATHENISH RITES AND HUMAN SACRIFICES.

Such were the strangely jumbled anticipations that haunted me during our
passage from the cruising ground. I felt an irresistible curiosity to
see those islands which the olden voyagers had so glowingly described.

The group for which we were now steering (although among the earliest of
European discoveries in the South Seas, having been first visited in
the year 1595) still continues to be tenanted by beings as strange
and barbarous as ever. The missionaries sent on a heavenly errand, had
sailed by their lovely shores, and had abandoned them to their idols of
wood and stone. How interesting the circumstances under which they were
discovered! In the watery path of Mendanna, cruising in quest of some
region of gold, these isles had sprung up like a scene of enchantment,
and for a moment the Spaniard believed his bright dream was realized.

In honour of the Marquess de Mendoza, then viceroy of Peru--under whose
auspices the navigator sailed--he bestowed upon them the name which
denoted the rank of his patron, and gave to the world on his return
a vague and magnificent account of their beauty. But these islands,
undisturbed for years, relapsed into their previous obscurity; and it is
only recently that anything has been known concerning them. Once in the
course of a half century, to be sure, some adventurous rover would break
in upon their peaceful repose, and astonished at the unusual scene,
would be almost tempted to claim the merit of a new discovery.

Of this interesting group, but little account has ever been given, if
we except the slight mention made of them in the sketches of South-Sea
voyages. Cook, in his repeated circumnavigations of the globe, barely
touched at their shores; and all that we know about them is from a few
general narratives.

Among these, there are two that claim particular notice. Porter's
'Journal of the Cruise of the U.S. frigate Essex, in the Pacific,
during the late War', is said to contain some interesting particulars
concerning the islanders. This is a work, however, which I have never
happened to meet with; and Stewart, the chaplain of the American sloop
of war Vincennes, has likewise devoted a portion of his book, entitled
'A Visit to the South Seas', to the same subject.

Within the last few, years American and English vessels engaged in the
extensive whale fisheries of the Pacific have occasionally, when short
of provisions, put into the commodious harbour which there is in one of
the islands; but a fear of the natives, founded on the recollection of
the dreadful fate which many white men have received at their hands, has
deterred their crews from intermixing with the population sufficiently
to gain any insight into their peculiar customs and manners.

The Protestant Missions appear to have despaired of reclaiming these
islands from heathenism. The usage they have in every case received from
the natives has been such as to intimidate the boldest of their number.
Ellis, in his 'Polynesian Researches', gives some interesting accounts
of the abortive attempts made by the ''Tahiti Mission'' to establish a
branch Mission upon certain islands of the group. A short time before
my visit to the Marquesas, a somewhat amusing incident took place in
connection with these efforts, which I cannot avoid relating.

An intrepid missionary, undaunted by the ill-success that had attended
all previous endeavours to conciliate the savages, and believing much
in the efficacy of female influence, introduced among them his young and
beautiful wife, the first white woman who had ever visited their shores.
The islanders at first gazed in mute admiration at so unusual a prodigy,
and seemed inclined to regard it as some new divinity. But after a short
time, becoming familiar with its charming aspect, and jealous of the
folds which encircled its form, they sought to pierce the sacred veil
of calico in which it was enshrined, and in the gratification of their
curiosity so far overstepped the limits of good breeding, as deeply
to offend the lady's sense of decorum. Her sex once ascertained, their
idolatry was changed into contempt and there was no end to the contumely
showered upon her by the savages, who were exasperated at the deception
which they conceived had been practised upon them. To the horror of
her affectionate spouse, she was stripped of her garments, and given to
understand that she could no longer carry on her deceits with impunity.
The gentle dame was not sufficiently evangelical to endure this, and,
fearful of further improprieties, she forced her husband to relinquish
his undertaking, and together they returned to Tahiti.

Not thus shy of exhibiting her charms was the Island Queen herself, the
beauteous wife of Movianna, the king of Nukuheva. Between two and three
years after the adventures recorded in this volume, I chanced, while
aboard of a man-of-war to touch at these islands. The French had
then held possession of the Marquesas some time, and already prided
themselves upon the beneficial effects of their jurisdiction, as
discernible in the deportment of the natives. To be sure, in one of
their efforts at reform they had slaughtered about a hundred and fifty
of them at Whitihoo--but let that pass. At the time I mention, the
French squadron was rendezvousing in the bay of Nukuheva, and during an
interview between one of their captains and our worthy Commodore, it
was suggested by the former, that we, as the flag-ship of the American
squadron, should receive, in state, a visit from the royal pair. The
French officer likewise represented, with evident satisfaction, that
under their tuition the king and queen had imbibed proper notions of
their elevated station, and on all ceremonious occasions conducted
themselves with suitable dignity. Accordingly, preparations were made to
give their majesties a reception on board in a style corresponding with
their rank.

One bright afternoon, a gig, gaily bedizened with streamers, was
observed to shove off from the side of one of the French frigates, and
pull directly for our gangway. In the stern sheets reclined Mowanna and
his consort. As they approached, we paid them all the honours due to
royalty;--manning our yards, firing a salute, and making a prodigious
hubbub.

They ascended the accommodation ladder, were greeted by the Commodore,
hat in hand, and passing along the quarter-deck, the marine guard
presented arms, while the band struck up 'The King of the Cannibal
Islands'. So far all went well. The French officers grimaced and smiled
in exceedingly high spirits, wonderfully pleased with the discreet
manner in which these distinguished personages behaved themselves.

Their appearance was certainly calculated to produce an effect. His
majesty was arrayed in a magnificent military uniform, stiff with gold
lace and embroidery, while his shaven crown was concealed by a huge
chapeau bras, waving with ostrich plumes. There was one slight blemish,
however, in his appearance. A broad patch of tattooing stretched
completely across his face, in a line with his eyes, making him look as
if he wore a huge pair of goggles; and royalty in goggles suggested some
ludicrous ideas. But it was in the adornment of the fair person of his
dark-complexioned spouse that the tailors of the fleet had evinced the
gaiety of their national taste. She was habited in a gaudy tissue of
scarlet cloth, trimmed with yellow silk, which, descending a little
below the knees, exposed to view her bare legs, embellished with spiral
tattooing, and somewhat resembling two miniature Trajan's columns. Upon
her head was a fanciful turban of purple velvet, figured with silver
sprigs, and surmounted by a tuft of variegated feathers.

The ship's company, crowding into the gangway to view the sight, soon
arrested her majesty's attention. She singled out from their number an
old salt, whose bare arms and feet, and exposed breast, were covered
with as many inscriptions in India ink as the lid of an Egyptian
sarcophagus. Notwithstanding all the sly hints and remonstrances of the
French officers, she immediately approached the man, and pulling further
open the bosom of his duck frock, and rolling up the leg of his wide
trousers, she gazed with admiration at the bright blue and vermilion
pricking thus disclosed to view. She hung over the fellow, caressing
him, and expressing her delight in a variety of wild exclamations and
gestures. The embarrassment of the polite Gauls at such an unlooked-for
occurrence may be easily imagined, but picture their consternation, when
all at once the royal lady, eager to display the hieroglyphics on her
own sweet form, bent forward for a moment, and turning sharply round,
threw up the skirt of her mantle and revealed a sight from which the
aghast Frenchmen retreated precipitately, and tumbling into their boats,
fled the scene of so shocking a catastrophe.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The novel begins with the principal character addressing the reader. He then goes on to regale the reader with a description of his life on the sea. Six months has passed since they left the shores, and all their provisions are exhausted. The speaker misses the sight of land and yearns for a glimpse of greenery. Food is really scarce on the ship. Only a single cock remains in the chicken-hoop, and he too is to be devoured soon. Nerves are strung tight among the crewmen and a fault in the steering of Jack Lewis, a crewman, is explained back boldly to Captain Vangs. Finally, it is settled that in a week's time, the ship would be harboring at an island called Marquesas. The speaker is overjoyed and relieved at this decision and is gaily expectant of a lovely time there, with "cannibal banquets, groves of cocoa, nuts, tattooed chiefs and bamboo temples." A brief history of the island is also revealed. This island still remains barbarous as ever. Some missionaries had attempted to being the tribals to the right path but had given up the fruitless task. The island, after a brief spell of glory had relapsed into its obscurity and it is only now that its peaceful repose is to be broken. The speaker finds a great deal of joy in the realization that his narrative would be helping in withdrawing the veil from this romantic region.


prompt:
Chapter: I CAN never forget the eighteen or twenty days during which the light
trade-winds were silently sweeping us towards the islands. In pursuit of
the sperm whale, we had been cruising on the line some twenty degrees
to the westward of the Gallipagos; and all that we had to do, when our
course was determined on, was to square in the yards and keep the vessel
before the breeze, and then the good ship and the steady gale did the
rest between them. The man at the wheel never vexed the old lady with
any superfluous steering, but comfortably adjusting his limbs at the
tiller, would doze away by the hour. True to her work, the Dolly headed
to her course, and like one of those characters who always do best when
let alone, she jogged on her way like a veteran old sea-pacer as she
was.

What a delightful, lazy, languid time we had whilst we were thus gliding
along! There was nothing to be done; a circumstance that happily
suited our disinclination to do anything. We abandoned the fore-peak
altogether, and spreading an awning over the forecastle, slept, ate,
and lounged under it the live-long day. Every one seemed to be under the
influence of some narcotic. Even the officers aft, whose duty required
them never to be seated while keeping a deck watch, vainly endeavoured
to keep on their pins; and were obliged invariably to compromise the
matter by leaning up against the bulwarks, and gazing abstractedly over
the side. Reading was out of the question; take a book in your hand, and
you were asleep in an instant.

Although I could not avoid yielding in a great measure to the general
languor, still at times I contrived to shake off the spell, and to
appreciate the beauty of the scene around me. The sky presented a
clear expanse of the most delicate blue, except along the skirts of the
horizon, where you might see a thin drapery of pale clouds which never
varied their form or colour. The long, measured, dirge-like well of
the Pacific came rolling along, with its surface broken by little tiny
waves, sparkling in the sunshine. Every now and then a shoal of flying
fish, scared from the water under the bows, would leap into the air,
and fall the next moment like a shower of silver into the sea. Then you
would see the superb albicore, with his glittering sides, sailing aloft,
and often describing an arc in his descent, disappear on the surface of
the water. Far off, the lofty jet of the whale might be seen, and nearer
at hand the prowling shark, that villainous footpad of the seas, would
come skulking along, and, at a wary distance, regard us with his evil
eye. At times, some shapeless monster of the deep, floating on the
surface, would, as we approached, sink slowly into the blue waters, and
fade away from the sight. But the most impressive feature of the
scene was the almost unbroken silence that reigned over sky and water.
Scarcely a sound could be heard but the occasional breathing of the
grampus, and the rippling at the cut-water.

As we drew nearer the land, I hailed with delight the appearance of
innumerable sea-fowl. Screaming and whirling in spiral tracks, they
would accompany the vessel, and at times alight on our yards and
stays. That piratical-looking fellow, appropriately named the
man-of-war's-hawk, with his blood-red bill and raven plumage, would
come sweeping round us in gradually diminishing circles, till you
could distinctly mark the strange flashings of his eye; and then, as if
satisfied with his observation, would sail up into the air and disappear
from the view. Soon, other evidences of our vicinity to the land were
apparent, and it was not long before the glad announcement of its being
in sight was heard from aloft,--given with that peculiar prolongation of
sound that a sailor loves--'Land ho!'

The captain, darting on deck from the cabin, bawled lustily for his
spy-glass; the mate in still louder accents hailed the masthead with a
tremendous 'where-away?' The black cook thrust his woolly head from the
galley, and Boatswain, the dog, leaped up between the knight-heads, and
barked most furiously. Land ho! Aye, there it was. A hardly perceptible
blue irregular outline, indicating the bold contour of the lofty heights
of Nukuheva.

This island, although generally called one of the Marquesas, is by some
navigators considered as forming one of a distinct cluster, comprising
the islands of Ruhooka, Ropo, and Nukuheva; upon which three the
appellation of the Washington Group has been bestowed. They form a
triangle, and lie within the parallels of 8 degrees 38" and 9 degrees
32" South latitude and 139 degrees 20" and 140 degrees 10" West
longitude from Greenwich. With how little propriety they are to be
regarded as forming a separate group will be at once apparent, when
it is considered that they lie in the immediate vicinity of the other
islands, that is to say, less than a degree to the northwest of them;
that their inhabitants speak the Marquesan dialect, and that their laws,
religion, and general customs are identical. The only reason why they
were ever thus arbitrarily distinguished may be attributed to the
singular fact, that their existence was altogether unknown to the world
until the year 1791, when they were discovered by Captain Ingraham, of
Boston, Massachusetts, nearly two centuries after the discovery of the
adjacent islands by the agent of the Spanish Viceroy. Notwithstanding
this, I shall follow the example of most voyagers, and treat of them as
forming part and parcel of Marquesas.

Nukuheva is the most important of these islands, being the only one
at which ships are much in the habit of touching, and is celebrated as
being the place where the adventurous Captain Porter refitted his ships
during the late war between England and the United States, and whence he
sallied out upon the large whaling fleet then sailing under the enemy's
flag in the surrounding seas. This island is about twenty miles in
length and nearly as many in breadth. It has three good harbours on its
coast; the largest and best of which is called by the people living
in its vicinity 'Taiohae', and by Captain Porter was denominated
Massachusetts Bay. Among the adverse tribes dwelling about the shores of
the other bays, and by all voyagers, it is generally known by the name
bestowed upon the island itself--Nukuheva. Its inhabitants have become
somewhat corrupted, owing to their recent commerce with Europeans, but
so far as regards their peculiar customs and general mode of life, they
retain their original primitive character, remaining very nearly in the
same state of nature in which they were first beheld by white men. The
hostile clans, residing in the more remote sections of the island, and
very seldom holding any communication with foreigners, are in every
respect unchanged from their earliest known condition.

In the bay of Nukuheva was the anchorage we desired to reach. We had
perceived the loom of the mountains about sunset; so that after running
all night with a very light breeze, we found ourselves close in with
the island the next morning, but as the bay we sought lay on its farther
side, we were obliged to sail some distance along the shore, catching,
as we proceeded, short glimpses of blooming valleys, deep glens,
waterfalls, and waving groves hidden here and there by projecting and
rocky headlands, every moment opening to the view some new and startling
scene of beauty.

Those who for the first time visit the South Sea, generally are
surprised at the appearance of the islands when beheld from the sea.
From the vague accounts we sometimes have of their beauty, many people
are apt to picture to themselves enamelled and softly swelling plains,
shaded over with delicious groves, and watered by purling brooks, and
the entire country but little elevated above the surrounding ocean. The
reality is very different; bold rock-bound coasts, with the surf beating
high against the lofty cliffs, and broken here and there into deep
inlets, which open to the view thickly-wooded valleys, separated by the
spurs of mountains clothed with tufted grass, and sweeping down towards
the sea from an elevated and furrowed interior, form the principal
features of these islands.

Towards noon we drew abreast the entrance go the harbour, and at last
we slowly swept by the intervening promontory, and entered the bay of
Nukuheva. No description can do justice to its beauty; but that beauty
was lost to me then, and I saw nothing but the tri-coloured flag of
France trailing over the stern of six vessels, whose black hulls and
bristling broadsides proclaimed their warlike character. There they
were, floating in that lovely bay, the green eminences of the shore
looking down so tranquilly upon them, as if rebuking the sternness of
their aspect. To my eye nothing could be more out of keeping than the
presence of these vessels; but we soon learnt what brought them
there. The whole group of islands had just been taken possession of
by Rear-Admiral Du Petit Thouars, in the name of the invincible French
nation.

This item of information was imparted to us by a most extraordinary
individual, a genuine South-Sea vagabond, who came alongside of us in
a whale-boat as soon as we entered the bay, and, by the aid of some
benevolent persons at the gangway, was assisted on board, for our
visitor was in that interesting stage of intoxication when a man is
amiable and helpless. Although he was utterly unable to stand erect or
to navigate his body across the deck, he still magnanimously proffered
his services to pilot the ship to a good and secure anchorage. Our
captain, however, rather distrusted his ability in this respect, and
refused to recognize his claim to the character he assumed; but
our gentleman was determined to play his part, for, by dint of much
scrambling, he succeeded in getting into the weather-quarter boat,
where he steadied himself by holding on to a shroud, and then commenced
issuing his commands with amazing volubility and very peculiar gestures.
Of course no one obeyed his orders; but as it was impossible to quiet
him, we swept by the ships of the squadron with this strange fellow
performing his antics in full view of all the French officers.

We afterwards learned that our eccentric friend had been a lieutenant in
the English navy; but having disgraced his flag by some criminal conduct
in one of the principal ports on the main, he had deserted his ship,
and spent many years wandering among the islands of the Pacific, until
accidentally being at Nukuheva when the French took possession of
the place, he had been appointed pilot of the harbour by the newly
constituted authorities.

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 each other's throats, whereas they were only
amicably engaged in disentangling their boats.

Scattered here and there among the canoes might be seen numbers of
cocoanuts floating closely together in circular groups, and bobbing up
and down with every wave. By some inexplicable means these cocoanuts
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 cocoanut, 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 cocoanuts 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 cocoanuts 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.

We had approached within a mile and a half perhaps of this foot of
the bay, when some of the islanders, who by this time had managed to
scramble aboard of us at the risk of swamping their canoes, directed our
attention to a singular commotion in the water ahead of the vessel. At
first I imagined it to be produced by a shoal of fish sporting on the
surface, but our savage friends assured us that it was caused by a shoal
of 'whinhenies' (young girls), who in this manner were coming off from
the shore to welcome is. As they drew nearer, and I watched the rising
and sinking of their forms, and beheld the uplifted right arm bearing
above the water the girdle of tappa, and their long dark hair trailing
beside them as they swam, I almost fancied they could be nothing else
than so many mermaids--and very like mermaids they behaved too.

We were still some distance from the beach, and under slow headway,
when we sailed right into the midst of these swimming nymphs, and they
boarded us at every quarter; many seizing hold of the chain-plates and
springing into the chains; others, at the peril of being run over by
the vessel in her course, catching at the bob-stays, and wreathing their
slender forms about the ropes, hung suspended in the air. All of them
at length succeeded in getting up the ship's side, where they clung
dripping with the brine and glowing from the bath, their jet-black
tresses streaming over their shoulders, and half enveloping their
otherwise naked forms. There they hung, sparkling with savage vivacity,
laughing gaily at one another, and chattering away with infinite glee.
Nor were they idle the while, for each one performed the simple offices
of the toilette for the other. Their luxuriant locks, wound up and
twisted into the smallest possible compass, were freed from the briny
element; the whole person carefully dried, and from a little round
shell that passed from hand to hand, anointed with a fragrant oil: their
adornments were completed by passing a few loose folds of white tappa,
in a modest cincture, around the waist. Thus arrayed they no longer
hesitated, but flung themselves lightly over the bulwarks, and were
quickly frolicking about the decks. Many of them went forward, perching
upon the headrails or running out upon the bowsprit, while others seated
themselves upon the taffrail, or reclined at full length upon the boats.
What a sight for us bachelor sailors! How avoid so dire a temptation?
For who could think of tumbling these artless creatures overboard, when
they had swum miles to welcome us?

Their appearance perfectly amazed me; their extreme youth, the
light clear brown of their complexions, their delicate features, and
inexpressibly graceful figures, their softly moulded limbs, and free
unstudied action, seemed as strange as beautiful.

The Dolly was fairly captured; and never I will say was vessel carried
before by such a dashing and irresistible party of boarders! The ship
taken, we could not do otherwise than yield ourselves prisoners, and for
the whole period that she remained in the bay, the Dolly, as well as her
crew, were completely in the hands of the mermaids.

In the evening after we had come to an anchor the deck was illuminated
with lanterns, and this picturesque band of sylphs, tricked out with
flowers, and dressed in robes of variegated tappa, got up a ball in
great style. These females are passionately fond of dancing, and in the
wild grace and spirit of the style excel everything I have ever seen.
The varied dances of the Marquesan girls are beautiful in the extreme,
but there is an abandoned voluptuousness in their character which I dare
not attempt to describe.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The speaker recollects that they had taken fifteen to twenty days to reach the shores. In the meanwhile, lethargy and leisure reigns on the ship 'Dolly.' The crewmen and even the officers spend a languid time on deck, awaiting the glimpse of land. The speaker himself refuses to get drawn into the spell and spends his time gazing out and reveling in the splendor of the sea. As they hail nearer the land, they notice seafowls flying towards their ship, swirling there for a while and then returning. Finally, land is sighted and they harbor their ship on one of the islands of Marquesas, namely the island of Nukuheva. The speaker gives a brief geographical description of the three islands of Roohka, Ropo, and Nukuheva. Nukuheva is the most important of these islands. It has three good harbors, the largest of which is called 'Tyohee.' The inhabitants, though slightly corrupted by the Europeans, still retain their original primitive character. By noon, the ship reaches the shore. There, they notice that already some six vessels with the flag of France were harbored. The whole group of islands has just been taken possession of by Read-Admiral Du Petit Thouars. As their ship advances closer, some canoes with natives on them, come towards them. The speaker also notices a bunch of coconuts, with a man wearing a coconut on his head, trailing towards the ship. A singularly inebriated vagabond too manages to board their ship. Soon, they notice a group of young, nubile native girls swimming towards their ship. They too climb aboard, laughing gaily and join the crewmen in an abandoned riot of debauchery and licentiousness.


prompt:
Chapter: |MRS. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down
into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and
traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the
old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook
in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool
and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet,
well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs.
Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it
probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window,
keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children
up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never
rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

There are plenty of people in Avonlea and out of it, who can attend
closely to their neighbor's business by dint of neglecting their own;
but Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage
their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. She was a
notable housewife; her work was always done and well done; she "ran" the
Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday-school, and was the strongest prop
of the Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet with all
this Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen
window, knitting "cotton warp" quilts--she had knitted sixteen of them,
as Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices--and keeping
a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up
the steep red hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular
peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence with water on two
sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that
hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs. Rachel's all-seeing
eye.

She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in
at the window warm and bright; the orchard on the slope below the house
was in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom, hummed over by a myriad of
bees. Thomas Lynde--a meek little man whom Avonlea people called "Rachel
Lynde's husband"--was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field
beyond the barn; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his on
the big red brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew
that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening
before in William J. Blair's store over at Carmody that he meant to sow
his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course, for
Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about
anything in his whole life.

And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon
of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill;
moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was
plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy
and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable
distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going
there?

Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel, deftly putting this
and that together, might have given a pretty good guess as to both
questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be
something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest
man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where
he might have to talk. Matthew, dressed up with a white collar and
driving in a buggy, was something that didn't happen often. Mrs. Rachel,
ponder as she might, could make nothing of it and her afternoon's
enjoyment was spoiled.

"I'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla
where he's gone and why," the worthy woman finally concluded. "He
doesn't generally go to town this time of year and he _never_ visits; if
he'd run out of turnip seed he wouldn't dress up and take the buggy to
go for more; he wasn't driving fast enough to be going for a doctor.
Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off. I'm
clean puzzled, that's what, and I won't know a minute's peace of mind or
conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea
today."

Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the
big, rambling, orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a
scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde's Hollow. To be sure, the
long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert's father, as
shy and silent as his son after him, had got as far away as he possibly
could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods
when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest
edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible
from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so
sociably situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place
_living_ at all.

"It's just _staying_, that's what," she said as she stepped along the
deep-rutted, grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. "It's no wonder
Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd, living away back here by
themselves. Trees aren't much company, though dear knows if they were
there'd be enough of them. I'd ruther look at people. To be sure, they
seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they're used to it. A body
can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said."

With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green
Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one
side with great patriarchal willows and the other with prim Lombardies.
Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would have
seen it if there had been. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla
Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. One could
have eaten a meal off the ground without over-brimming the proverbial
peck of dirt.

Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in
when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful
apartment--or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully
clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlor. Its
windows looked east and west; through the west one, looking out on
the back yard, came a flood of mellow June sunlight; but the east one,
whence you got a glimpse of the bloom white cherry-trees in the left
orchard and nodding, slender birches down in the hollow by the brook,
was greened over by a tangle of vines. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when
she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to
her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to
be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind
her was laid for supper.

Mrs. Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had taken a mental
note of everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid,
so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but
the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-apple preserves
and one kind of cake, so that the expected company could not be any
particular company. Yet what of Matthew's white collar and the sorrel
mare? Mrs. Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery
about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables.

"Good evening, Rachel," Marilla said briskly. "This is a real fine
evening, isn't it? Won't you sit down? How are all your folks?"

Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship
existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel,
in spite of--or perhaps because of--their dissimilarity.

Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark
hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little
knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She
looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she
was; but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had
been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative
of a sense of humor.

"We're all pretty well," said Mrs. Rachel. "I was kind of afraid _you_
weren't, though, when I saw Matthew starting off today. I thought maybe
he was going to the doctor's."

Marilla's lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs.
Rachel up; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so
unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor's curiosity.

"Oh, no, I'm quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday," she
said. "Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a little boy from an
orphan asylum in Nova Scotia and he's coming on the train tonight."

If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a
kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished.
She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds. It was unsupposable
that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to
suppose it.

"Are you in earnest, Marilla?" she demanded when voice returned to her.

"Yes, of course," said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphan asylums
in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any well-regulated
Avonlea farm instead of being an unheard of innovation.

Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought
in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people
adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly
turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this!
Nothing!

"What on earth put such a notion into your head?" she demanded
disapprovingly.

This had been done without her advice being asked, and must perforce be
disapproved.

"Well, we've been thinking about it for some time--all winter in fact,"
returned Marilla. "Mrs. Alexander Spencer was up here one day before
Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the
asylum over in Hopeton in the spring. Her cousin lives there and Mrs.
Spencer has visited here and knows all about it. So Matthew and I have
talked it over off and on ever since. We thought we'd get a boy. Matthew
is getting up in years, you know--he's sixty--and he isn't so spry as he
once was. His heart troubles him a good deal. And you know how desperate
hard it's got to be to get hired help. There's never anybody to be had
but those stupid, half-grown little French boys; and as soon as you do
get one broke into your ways and taught something he's up and off to the
lobster canneries or the States. At first Matthew suggested getting a
Home boy. But I said 'no' flat to that. 'They may be all right--I'm not
saying they're not--but no London street Arabs for me,' I said. 'Give
me a native born at least. There'll be a risk, no matter who we get. But
I'll feel easier in my mind and sleep sounder at nights if we get a born
Canadian.' So in the end we decided to ask Mrs. Spencer to pick us out
one when she went over to get her little girl. We heard last week she
was going, so we sent her word by Richard Spencer's folks at Carmody
to bring us a smart, likely boy of about ten or eleven. We decided that
would be the best age--old enough to be of some use in doing chores
right off and young enough to be trained up proper. We mean to give him
a good home and schooling. We had a telegram from Mrs. Alexander Spencer
today--the mail-man brought it from the station--saying they were coming
on the five-thirty train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to
meet him. Mrs. Spencer will drop him off there. Of course she goes on to
White Sands station herself."

Mrs. Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind; she proceeded to
speak it now, having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece
of news.

"Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a
mighty foolish thing--a risky thing, that's what. You don't know what
you're getting. You're bringing a strange child into your house and home
and you don't know a single thing about him nor what his disposition is
like nor what sort of parents he had nor how he's likely to turn out.
Why, it was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife up
west of the Island took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to
the house at night--set it _on purpose_, Marilla--and nearly burnt them to
a crisp in their beds. And I know another case where an adopted boy used
to suck the eggs--they couldn't break him of it. If you had asked my
advice in the matter--which you didn't do, Marilla--I'd have said for
mercy's sake not to think of such a thing, that's what."

This Job's comforting seemed neither to offend nor to alarm Marilla. She
knitted steadily on.

"I don't deny there's something in what you say, Rachel. I've had some
qualms myself. But Matthew was terrible set on it. I could see that, so
I gave in. It's so seldom Matthew sets his mind on anything that when he
does I always feel it's my duty to give in. And as for the risk, there's
risks in pretty near everything a body does in this world. There's risks
in people's having children of their own if it comes to that--they don't
always turn out well. And then Nova Scotia is right close to the Island.
It isn't as if we were getting him from England or the States. He can't
be much different from ourselves."

"Well, I hope it will turn out all right," said Mrs. Rachel in a tone
that plainly indicated her painful doubts. "Only don't say I didn't
warn you if he burns Green Gables down or puts strychnine in the well--I
heard of a case over in New Brunswick where an orphan asylum child did
that and the whole family died in fearful agonies. Only, it was a girl
in that instance."

"Well, we're not getting a girl," said Marilla, as if poisoning wells
were a purely feminine accomplishment and not to be dreaded in the case
of a boy. "I'd never dream of taking a girl to bring up. I wonder at
Mrs. Alexander Spencer for doing it. But there, _she_ wouldn't shrink
from adopting a whole orphan asylum if she took it into her head."

Mrs. Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home with his
imported orphan. But reflecting that it would be a good two hours at
least before his arrival she concluded to go up the road to Robert
Bell's and tell the news. It would certainly make a sensation second
to none, and Mrs. Rachel dearly loved to make a sensation. So she took
herself away, somewhat to Marilla's relief, for the latter felt
her doubts and fears reviving under the influence of Mrs. Rachel's
pessimism.

"Well, of all things that ever were or will be!" ejaculated Mrs. Rachel
when she was safely out in the lane. "It does really seem as if I must
be dreaming. Well, I'm sorry for that poor young one and no mistake.
Matthew and Marilla don't know anything about children and they'll
expect him to be wiser and steadier that his own grandfather, if so be's
he ever had a grandfather, which is doubtful. It seems uncanny to think
of a child at Green Gables somehow; there's never been one there, for
Matthew and Marilla were grown up when the new house was built--if they
ever _were_ children, which is hard to believe when one looks at them.
I wouldn't be in that orphan's shoes for anything. My, but I pity him,
that's what."

So said Mrs. Rachel to the wild rose bushes out of the fulness of her
heart; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently
at the Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been
still deeper and more profound.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The story begins by describing where Mrs. Rachel Lynde's home is located in a town called Avonlea. Mrs. Rachel likes to watch people going by outside her window so that she knows everything going on in Avonlea. Whenever she sees something that she finds odd, she always tries to figure out what is going on. One afternoon in early June, Mrs. Rachel sees a man who lives nearby, Matthew Cuthbert, driving a buggy out of town dressed in fancy clothes. This intrigues Mrs. Rachel Lynde because usually, at this time of year, Matthew Cuthbert would be sowing a field at his home, which is called Green Gables. She is also intrigued because Matthew Cuthbert is usually someone who stays home and keeps to himself. Mrs. Rachel decides to go over to Green Gables to talk to a woman named Marilla about what Matthew is doing. Mrs. Rachel walks the quarter of a mile to Green Gables, criticizing how far the Cuthbert home is built from the main road. She believes this is because the family is shy and odd. As she approaches Green Gables, Mrs. Rachel notes that it is extremely clean. Mrs. Rachel sees Marilla in the kitchen, with three plates laid on the table. Mrs. Rachel surmises that Marilla and Matthew must be expecting company because only the two of them live at Green Gables. She thinks that they must not be expecting anyone very important because the food laid out is nothing fancy. Mrs. Rachel knocks and Marilla lets her in politely. Marilla is described as tall and thin, with dark hair that has some streaks of gray. The narrator notes that she looks like she has a "rigid conscience" and yet something about her mouth indicates that she has a sense of humor. Mrs. Rachel says that she has come over because she saw Matthew driving to town and thought he might be going for a doctor. Marilla says that Matthew went to the train station in Bright River to pick up an orphan boy coming from Nova Scotia. Mrs. Rachel is shocked. Marilla says that she and Matthew are taking in an orphan boy to help Matthew with work around the farm since Matthew is now 60 years old and has heart trouble. Matthew and Marilla thought about hiring a young man from France or London, but Marilla speaks disparagingly about this prospect and says she would prefer to have a "native born" Canadian. Marilla and Matthew asked a woman named Mrs. Spencer to bring them an orphan boy who is 10 or 11 years old since there will still be time to train him. Mrs. Rachel informs Marilla that she thinks this is a foolish and risky idea and tells Marilla a story of an orphan boy burning down a house. Marilla replies that even biological children have risks and that she thinks the orphan boy shouldn't be too different from them since he will be from nearby. Mrs. Rachel tells Marilla another story of an orphan girl who poisoned a well. Marilla responds that she would never dream of taking in an orphan girl. Mrs. Rachel would like to stay until Matthew comes home with the orphan, but she decides instead to go start spreading the gossip she has learned