the white man came, the abode of a romantic and gallant clan. Eimeo,
it was called by the first whites, but the name of Moorea clings
to it now. Over it and behind it sets the sun of Papeete, and it is
associated with the tribal conflicts, the religion, and the journeys
of the Tahitians. Now it is tributary to this island in every way, and
small boats run to and from with passengers and freight almost daily.

We met at seven o'clock of a Saturday morning at the point on
the coral embankment where the Potii Moorea was made fast, the
gasolene-propelled cargo-boat which we had rented for the voyage. A
hundred were gathered about a band of musicians in full swing when I
appeared at the rendezvous on the prick of the hour. The bandsmen,
all natives but one, wore garlands of purau, the scarlet hibiscus,
and there was an atmosphere of abandonment to pleasure about them
and the party.

A schooner swung at her moorings near by, under a glowing, flamboyant
tree, and her crew was aboard in expectation of sailing at any
hour. Another small craft, a sloop, was preparing to sail for Moorea,
also. She was crowded with passengers and cargo, and all about the
rail hung huge bunches of feis, the mountain bananas. Most of the
people aboard had come from the market-place with fruit and fish and
vegetables to cook when they arrived at home. A strange habit of the
Tahitians under their changed condition is to take the line of least
resistance in food, eating in Chinese stores, or buying bits in the
market, whereas, when they governed themselves, they had an exact and
elaborate formula of food preparation, and a certain ceremoniousness
in despatching it. Only feasts bring a resumption nowadays of the
ancient ways.