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Headed by the pipe and accordion, the brass and wood, now playing "Onward, Christian Soldier," which, if one forgot the words, was an especially carnal melody, we tramped, singing a parody, through the street of Faatoai, and into a glorious cocoanut grove, where breakfast was spread. A pavilion had been erected for our feasting.
The Arearea in the pavilion Raw fish and baked feis Llewellyn, the Master of the Revel; Kelly, the I.V.W., and His Himene The Upaupahura Landers and Mamoe prove experts The return to Papeete. The company was assembled in the pavilion when I walked through the streets of Faatoai again, and the food was on the bamboo table.
Little bays and inlets bounded themselves, and villages and houses sprang up from the tropic groves. The band, which so far as I knew had not been silent a moment to awaken me from my adoration of the sculpture and painting of nature, now poured out the "Himene Tatou Arearea" in token of our approaching landing, which was at Faatoai, the center of population.
"There are too many low whites comin' here. When Moorea had only sail from Tahiti, the blackguards did not come, but now the dirty gasolene boat brings them. I must be off to the west'ard, to Aitutaki or Penrhyn." Poor Mac! he never made his westward until he went west in soldier parlance. McHenry, on our way back to Faatoai, said: "McTavish is a bloody fool.
So the gentle Pai and her husband they are religious people, and went to the Faatoai church three times this Sunday stood while we lolled at ease. Courtesy here seems a native trait, though even a little native blood improves on the white as far as politeness is concerned.
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