At daybreak next morning, when I went on deck, it was a dead calm.  The sea-breeze had not yet come in, and there was not a ripple on the surface of the harbour.  Outside, two little white trading schooners lay becalmed; inside, the harbour-tug was getting up steam.  On shore, a few gaily dressed natives were hurrying home with their early market produce, and others were stretched lazily on the grass at the water’s edge or on the benches under the trees.  Our stores for the day, a picturesque-looking heap of fish, fruit, vegetables, and flowers, were on the steps, waiting to be brought off, and guarded in the meantime by natives in costumes of pink, blue, orange, and a delicate pale green they specially affect.  The light mists rolled gradually away from the mountain tops, and there was every prospect of a fine day for a projected excursion.

I went ashore to fetch some of the fresh gathered fruit, and soon we had a feast of luscious pineapples, juicy mangoes, bananas, and oranges, with the dew still upon them.  The mango is certainly the king of fruit.  Its flavour is a combination of apricot and pineapple, with the slightest possible suspicion of turpentine thrown in, to give a piquancy to the whole.  I dare say it sounds a strange mixture, but I can only say that the result is delicious.  To enjoy mangoes thoroughly you ought not to eat them in company, but leaning over the side of the ship, in the early morning, with your sleeves tucked up to your elbows, using no knife and fork, but tearing off the skin with your teeth, and sucking the abundant juice.

We breakfasted at half-past six, and, at a little before eight, went ashore, where we were met by a sort of char-a-bancs, or American wagon, with three seats, one behind the other, all facing the horses, and roomy and comfortable enough for two persons.  Our Transatlantic cousins certainly understand thoroughly, and do their best to improve everything connected with, the locomotion they love so well.  A Chinese coachman and a thin but active pair of little horses completed the turn-out.  Mabelle sat beside the coachman, and we four packed into, the other two seats, with all our belongings.

The sun was certainly very powerful when we emerged from the shady groves of Papeete, but there was a nice breeze, and sometimes we got under the shade of cocoa-nut trees.  We reached Punauia at about half-past nine, and changed horses there.  While waiting, hot and thirsty, under the shelter of some trees, we asked for a cocoa-nut, whereupon a man standing by immediately tied a withy of banana leaves round his feet and proceeded to climb, or rather hop, up the nearest tree, raising himself with his two hands and his feet alternately, with an exactly similar action to that of our old friend the monkey on the stick.  People who have tasted the cocoa-nut only in England can have no idea what a delicious fruit it really is when nearly ripe and freshly plucked.