Marquesas for pearl and shell and copra, vanilla- and pearl-buyers,
planters, and lesser bureaucrats, idlers or retired adventurers
living in Tahiti, and tourists made the club for a few hours a day
a polyglot exchange of current topics between man and man, a place
of initiation and of judgment of business deals, a precious refuge
against smug bores and a sanctuary for refreshment of body and soul
with cooling drinks. Naturally, every one played cards, dominoes,
or dice for the honor of signing the chits, and it goes without
saying that one might roar out an oath against the Government and
go unscathed. Even in the Bougainville lines were drawn; only heads
of commercial affairs were admitted. It was bourgeois absolutely,
but bosses could not imbibe and play freely in the presence of their
employees whom they might have to reprimand severely for bad habits,
nor scold them for inattention to trade when their employers spent
precious hours at écarté or razzle-dazzle.

The club was within fifty feet of the lagoon, close to the steamship
quay, its broad verandas overlooking the fulgent reef and the quiet
waters within it. In odd hours one might find Joseph, the steward,
angling on the coral wall for the black and gold fish, and a shout
from the balcony would bring him to the swift succor of a thirsty
member. During the four hours before the late déjeuner and dinner,
he had incessant work to answer the continuous calls.

When Joseph became overwhelmed with orders he summoned his family
from secret quarters in the rear, and father, mother, and children
squeezed, shook, and poured for the impatient crowd.

When the monthly mail between America and Australasia was in, few packs
of cards were sold, for every one was busied with letters and orders