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Updated: June 8, 2025
The storm on the lagoon; Making safe the schooners A talk on missing ships A singular coincidence Arrival of three of crew of the shipwrecked El Dorado The Dutchman's story Easter Island. It blew a gale all one day and night from the north, and at break of the second day, when I went down the rue de Rivoli from the Tiare Hotel to the quay, the lagoon was a wild scene.
Still, though Tiare was old and fat, on occasion we rolled back the Brussels carpet, brought in the maids and one or two friends of Tiare's, and danced, though now to the wheezy music of a gramaphone. On the verandah the air was scented with the heavy perfume of the tiare, and overhead the Southern Cross shone in a cloudless sky.
I'm sick of it all. That old liar Morton has made my good name black in Tahiti. Everybody knows the Llewellyns. God damn him! I ought to have killed him when he threatened me in the Tiare!" He took my untouched glass of Dr. Funk, and gulped the mixture, nervously. Then he stood up unsteadily. "I don't get any sleep," he said, as if to himself, wearily. "I'm going to my shop and lie down."
"E, hitahita. Yes, we are hurrying back," the princess called vivaciously. "Those are our real men, not the Papeete dolts," she said. "If we had time, we would catch shrimp in the river. I love to do that." When we came to where the habitations began and the road became passable for vehicles, Noanoa Tiare sat down on a stone.
I think the moment he reached Tahiti he felt himself at home. Tiare told me that he said to her once: "I'd been scrubbing the deck, and all at once a chap said to me: 'Why, there it is. And I looked up and I saw the outline of the island. I knew right away that there was the place I'd been looking for all my life. Then we came near, and I seemed to recognise it.
The Noa-Noa comes to port Papeete en féte Rare scene at the Tiare Hotel The New Year celebrated Excitement at the wharf Battle of the Limes and Coal. The Noa-Noa came in after many days of suspense, during which rumors and reports of war grew into circumstantial statements of engagements at sea and battles on land.
The church of the curious Josephite religion was near by, and in the mission house attached to it I saw the American preachers of the sect. "What do they preach?" I asked Noanoa Tiare. "Those missionaries, the Tonito? Oh, they speak evil of the Mormons. I do not know how they speak of God." She laughed. "I am not interested in religions," she explained. "They are so difficult to understand.
On the wide veranda he composed three poems of merit, "The Great Lover," "Tiare Tahiti," and "Retrospect." He could understand the Polynesian, and he loved the race, and hated the necessity of a near departure. Their communism in work he praised daily, their singing at their tasks, and their wearing of flowers. We had in common admiration of those qualities and a fervor for the sun.
"'But I tell you, my poor Strickland, the girl has a <i beguin> for you, I said. "I shall beat you, he said, looking at her. "'How else should I know you loved me, she answered." Tiare broke off her narrative and addressed herself to me reflectively. "My first husband, Captain Johnson, used to thrash me regularly. He was a man.
Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest. I told Tiare the story of a man I had known at St. Thomas's Hospital.
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