Chapter 71

They Land Upon The Island Of Juam

Crossing the lagoon, our course now lay along the reel to Juam; a
name bestowed upon one of the largest islands hereabout; and also,
collectively, upon several wooded isles engulfing it, which together
were known as the dominions of one monarch. That monarch was
Donjalolo. Just turned of twenty-five, he was accounted not only the
handsomest man in his dominions, but throughout the lagoon. His
comeliness, however, was so feminine, that he was sometimes called
"Fonoo," or the Girl.

Our first view of Juam was imposing. A dark green pile of cliffs,
towering some one hundred toises; at top, presenting a range of
steep, gable-pointed projections; as if some Titanic hammer and
chisel had shaped the mass.

Sailing nearer, we perceived an extraordinary rolling of the sea;
which bursting into the lagoon through an adjoining breach in the
reef, surged toward Juam in enormous billows. At last, dashing
against the wall of the cliff; they played there in unceasing
fountains. But under the brow of a beetling crag, the spray came and
went unequally. There, the blue billows seemed swallowed up, and
lost.

Right regally was Juam guarded. For, at this point, the rock was
pierced by a cave, into which the great waves chased each other like
lions; after a hollow, subterraneous roaring issuing forth with manes
disheveled.

Cautiously evading the dangerous currents here ruffling the lagoon,
we rounded the wall of cliff; and shot upon a smooth expanse; on one
side, hemmed in by the long, verdent, northern shore of Juam;
and across the water, sentineled by its tributary islets.

With sonorous Vee-Vee in the shark's mouth, we swept toward the
beach, tumultuous with a throng.

Our canoes were secured. And surrounded by eager glances, we passed
the lower ends of several populous valleys; and crossing a wide, open
meadow, gradually ascending, came to a range of light-green bluffs.
Here, we wended our way down a narrow defile, almost cleaving this
quarter of the island to its base. Black crags frowned overhead:
among them the shouts of the Islanders reverberated. Yet steeper grew
the defile, and more overhanging the crags till at last, the keystone
of the arch seemed dropped into its place. We found ourselves in a
subterranean tunnel, dimly lighted by a span of white day at the end.

Emerging, what a scene was revealed! All round, embracing a circuit
of some three leagues, stood heights inaccessible, here and there,
forming buttresses, sheltering deep recesses between. The bosom of
the place was vivid with verdure.

Shining aslant into this wild hollow, the afternoon sun lighted up
its eastern side with tints of gold. But opposite,