I was instantly hailed by the chief's deputy,
who in an angry voice brought me to a halt. Perceiving that I was in
trouble, I made signs for pardon, the safest thing to do, though I did
not know what offense I had committed. My interpreter coming up,
however, put me right, but not until a long palaver had ensued. The
deputy's hail, liberally translated, was: "Ahoy, there, on the frantic
steed! Know you not that it is against the law to ride thus through
the village of our fathers?" I made what apologies I could, and
offered to dismount and, like my servant, lead my nag by the bridle.
This, the interpreter told me, would also be a grievous wrong, and so
I again begged for pardon. I was summoned to appear before a chief;
but my interpreter, being a wit as well as a bit of a rogue, explained
that I was myself something of a chief, and should not be detained,
being on a most important mission. In my own behalf I could only say
that I was a stranger, but, pleading all this, I knew I still deserved
to be roasted, at which the chief showed a fine row of teeth and
seemed pleased, but allowed me to pass on.
[Illustration: The _Spray's_ course from the Strait of Magellan to
Torres Strait.]
[Illustration: The _Spray's_ course from Australia to South Africa.]
The chief of the Tongas and his family at Caini, returning my visit,
brought presents of tapa-cloth and fruits. Taloa, the princess,
brought a bottle of cocoanut-oil for my hair, which another man might
have regarded as coming late.
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