Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

PASSAGE FROM THE CRUISING GROUND TO THE MARQUESAS--SLEEPY TIMES
ABOARD SHIP--SOUTH SEA SCENERY--LAND HO--THE FRENCH SQUADRON
DISCOVERED AT ANCHOR IN THE BAY OF NUKUHEVA--STRANGE PILOT--
ESCORT OF CANOES--A FLOTILLA OF COCOANUTS--SWIMMING VISITORS--THE
DOLLY BOARDED BY THEM--STATE OF AFFAIRS THAT ENSUE

I CAN never forget the eighteen or twenty days during which the
light trade-winds were silently sweeping us towards the islands.
In pursuit of the sperm whale, we had been cruising on the line
some twenty degrees to the westward of the Gallipagos; and all
that we had to do, when our course was determined on, was to
square in the yards and keep the vessel before the breeze, and
then the good ship and the steady gale did the rest between them.
The man at the wheel never vexed the old lady with any
superfluous steering, but comfortably adjusting his limbs at the
tiller, would doze away by the hour. True to her work, the Dolly
headed to her course, and like one of those characters who always
do best when let alone, she jogged on her way like a veteran old
sea-pacer as she was.

What a delightful, lazy, languid time we had whilst we were thus
gliding along! There was nothing to be done; a circumstance that
happily suited our disinclination to do anything. We abandoned
the fore-peak altogether, and spreading an awning over the
forecastle, slept, ate, and lounged under it the live-long day.
Every one seemed to be under the influence of some narcotic.
Even the officers aft, whose duty required them never to be
seated while keeping a deck watch, vainly endeavoured to keep on
their pins; and were obliged invariably to compromise the matter
by leaning up against the bulwarks, and gazing abstractedly over
the side. Reading was out of the question; take a book in your
hand, and you were asleep in an instant.

Although I could not avoid yielding in a great measure to the
general languor, still at times I contrived to shake off the
spell, and to appreciate the beauty of the scene around me. The
sky presented a clear expanse of the most delicate blue, except
along the skirts of the horizon, where you might see a thin
drapery of pale clouds which never varied their form or colour.
The long, measured, dirge-like well of the Pacific came rolling
along, with its surface broken by little tiny waves, sparkling in
the sunshine. Every now and then a shoal of flying fish, scared
from the water under the bows, would leap into the air, and fall
the next moment like a shower of silver into the sea. Then you
would see the superb albicore, with his glittering sides, sailing
aloft, and often describing an arc in his descent, disappear on
the surface of the water. Far off, the lofty jet of