Before returning to business, the chiefs carefully inspected the black bottle, of which they had dispossessed William Bludger.  A golden vase was produced—­they had always plenty of them handy—­and the dark fluid was poured into this princely receptacle, diffusing a strong odour of rum.  Each chief carefully tasted the stuff, and I was pained, on gathering, from the expression of their countenances, that they obviously relished the “fire-water” which has been the ruin of so many peoples in these beautiful but benighted seas.  However, there was not enough left to go round, and it was manifestly unlikely that William Bludger had succeeded in conveying larger supplies from the wreck.

The meeting now assumed its former air of earnestness, and it was not hard to see that the arrival of my unhappy and degraded fellow-countryman had introduced a new element into the debate.  Man after man spoke, and finally the chief rose, as I had little doubt, to sum up the discussion.  He pointed to myself, and to William Bludger alternately, and the words which I had already noted, Thargeelyah, and farmakoi, frequently recurred in his speech.  His ideas seemed to meet with general approval; even the old priest laid aside his sickle, and beat applause with his hands.  He next rose, and, taking two garlands of beautiful flowers from the horns of the altar, placed one wreath on the head of the drunken sailor, who had fallen asleep by this time.  He then drew near me, and I had little doubt that he meant to make me also wear a garland, like some woman of rank and fashion at a giddy secular entertainment.  Whatever his motive might be I was determined to wear nothing of the kind.  But here some attendants grappled and held me, my hat was lifted from my brows, and the circlet of blossoms was carefully entwined all round my hat.  The head-covering was then replaced, the whole assembly, forming a circle, danced around me and the unconscious Bludger, and, finally, the old priest, turning his face alternately to me and to the sun, intoned a hymn, the audience joining in at intervals.

My worst fears were, apparently, being realized.  In spite of the compromising appearance and conduct of Bludger, it seemed beyond doubt that we were both regarded as, in some degree, divine and sacred.  Resistance on my part was, it will be seen, impossible.  I could not escape from the hands of my tormentors, and I was so wholly ignorant, at that time, of their tongue, that I knew not how to disclaim the honours thus blasphemously thrust upon me.  I did my best, shouting, in English, “I am no Thargeelyah.  I am no farmakos” supposing those words to be the native terms for one or other of their gods.  On this the whole assembly, even the gravest, burst out laughing, each man poking his neighbour in the ribs, and uttering what I took to be jests at my expense.  Their behaviour in this juncture, and frequently afterwards, when I attempted to make them tell me the meaning of the unknown words, and of catharma (another expression the chief had used), greatly perplexed me.  I had afterwards too good reason to estimate their dreadful lack of the ordinary feelings of humanity at its true value.