Chapter 67

Little King Peepi

Valapee, or the Isle of Yams, being within plain sight of Media's
dominions, we were not very long in drawing nigh to its shores.

Two long parallel elevations, rising some three arrow-flights into
the air, double-ridge the island's entire length, lapping between, a
widening vale, so level withal, that at either extremity, the green
of its groves blends with the green of the lagoon; and the isle seems
divided by a strait.

Within several paces of the beach, our canoes keeled the bottom, and
camel-like mutely hinted that we voyagers must dismount.

Hereupon, the assembled islanders ran into the water, and with bent
shoulders obsequiously desired the honor of transporting us to land.
The beach gained, all present wearing robes instantly stripped them
to the waist; a naked chest being their salute to kings. Very
convenient for the common people, this; their half-clad forms
presenting a perpetual and profound salutation.

Presently, Peepi, the ruler of Valapee drew near: a boy, hardly ten
years old, striding the neck of a burly mute, bearing a long spear
erect before him, to which was attached a canopy of five broad banana
leaves, new plucked. Thus shaded, little Peepi advanced, steadying
himself by the forelock of his bearer.

Besides his bright red robe, the young prince wore nothing but the
symbol of Valapeean royalty; a string of small, close-fitting,
concave shells, coiled and ambushed in his profuse, curly
hair; one end falling over his ear, revealing a serpent's head,
curiously carved from a nutmeg.

Quite proverbial, the unembarrassed air of young slips of royalty.
But there was something so surprisingly precocious in this young
Peepi, that at first one hardly knew what to conclude.

The first compliments over, the company were invited inland to a
shady retreat.

As we pursued the path, walking between old Mohi the keeper of
chronicles and Samoa the Upoluan, Babbalanja besought the former to
enlighten a stranger concerning the history of this curious Peepi.
Whereupon the chronicler gave us the following account; for all of
which he alone is responsible.

Peepi, it seems, had been proclaimed king before he was born; his
sire dying some few weeks previous to that event; and vacating his
divan, declared that he left a monarch behind.

Marvels were told of Peepi. Along with the royal dignity, and
superadded to the soul possessed in his own proper person, the infant
monarch was supposed to have inherited the valiant spirits of some
twenty heroes, sages, simpletons, and demi-gods, previously lodged in
his sire.

Most opulent in spiritual gifts was this lord of Valapee; the
legatee, moreover, of numerous anonymous