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.

 Tommo knows he's been going on and on, but he wants just a bit more time to talk about the customs of the Typee. At Marheyo's, for instance, the whole household gathers to chant before bed, drumming with sticks. While the women are melodic, the men are more guttural. One night, Tommo sings an old folk song at the Ti, and Mehevi and the others are astounded by his voice, which is notable for its melody by Typee standards. After this, Mehevi often calls upon Tommo to sing, and also to shadow box with an invisible opponent, for his own delight. Walking by the lake one day, Tommo sees a mother dipping her infant into a stream, acclimating it to the water, teaching it to swim over several weeks. Tommo then goes on to talk about how Typee gals do their hair.

