Huahine, seeing her upon the beach, had felt a flame of love that nerved him to risk hungry shark and battering surf.  Carried from her even in the moment of meeting, he had resisted temptation until the schooner was sailing outside the Bay of Traitors, running before a breeze to the port of Tai-o-hae, and then he had flung himself naked into the sea and taken the straight course back to Atuona, reaching his sweetheart after a seven-hour’s struggle with current and breaker.  Flag, the gendarme, found him in her hut, and brought him to the calaboose.

The following morning I attended his trial.  He came before his judge elegantly dressed, for, besides a red pareu about his middle, he wore a pink silk shawl over his shoulders.  Both were the gift of Weaver of Mats, as he had come to her without scrip or scrap.  He needed little clothing, as his skin was very brown and his strong body magnificent.

He was an acceptable prisoner to Bauda, who had charge of the making and repair of roads and bridges, so Huahine was quickly sentenced and put to work with others who were paying their taxes by labor.  Weaver of Mats moved with him to the prison, where they lived together happily, cooking their food in the garden and sleeping on mats beneath the palms.

On all the paepaes it was said that Huahine would probably be sent to Tahiti, as there are strict laws against deserting ships and against vagabondage in the Marquesas.  Meantime the prisoner was happy.  Many a Tahitian and white sailor gazes toward these islands as a haven from trouble, and in Huahine’s exploit I read the story of many a poor white who in the early days cast away home and friends and arduous toil to dwell here in a breadfruity harem.

“There is a tale told long ago by a man of Hanamenu to a traveler named Christian,” I said to Haabunai, the carver, while we sat rolling pandanus cigarettes in the cool of the evening.  “It runs thus: 

“Some thirty years ago a sailor from a trading schooner that had put into the bay for sandalwood was badly treated by his skipper, who refused him shore-leave.  So, his bowels hot with anger, this sailor determined to desert his hard and unthanked toil, wed some island heiress, and live happy ever after.  Therefore one evening he swam ashore, found a maid to his liking, and was hidden by her until the ship departed.

“Now Tahia was a good wife, and loved her beautiful white man; all that a wife could do she did, cooking his food, bathing his feet, rolling cigarettes for him all day long as he lay upon the mats.  But her father in time became troubled, and there was grumbling among the people, for the white man would not work.

“He would not climb the palm to bring down the nuts; he lay and laughed on his paepae in the Meinui, the season of breadfruit, when all were busy; and when they brought him rusty old muskets to care for, he turned his back upon them.  Sometimes he fished, going out in a canoe that Tahia paddled, and making her fix the bait on the hook, but he caught few fish.