The time came at last when his labours, which resembled those rather of Penelope than Hercules, could be no more spun out, and nothing remained but to pay him and say farewell.  After a long, learned argument in Marquesan, I gathered that his mind was set on fish-hooks; with three of which, and a brace of dollars, I thought he was not ill rewarded for passing his forenoons in our cockpit, eating, drinking, delivering his opinions, and pressing the ship’s company into his menial service.  For all that, he was a man of so high a bearing, and so like an uncle of my own who should have gone mad and got tattooed, that I applied to him, when we were both on shore, to know if he were satisfied.  ‘Mitai ehipe?’ I asked.  And he, with rich unction, offering at the same time his hand—­’Mitai ehipe, mitai kaehae; kaoha nui!’—­or, to translate freely:  ’The ship is good, the victuals are up to the mark, and we part in friendship.’  Which testimonial uttered, he set off along the beach with his head bowed and the air of one deeply injured.

I saw him go, on my side, with relief.  It would be more interesting to learn how our relation seemed to Mapiao.  His exigence, we may suppose, was merely loyal.  He had been hired by the ignorant to do a piece of work; and he was bound that he would do it the right way.  Countless obstacles, continual ignorant ridicule, availed not to dissuade him.  He had his dinner laid out; watched it, as was fit, the while he worked; ate it at the fit hour; was in all things served and waited on; and could take his hire in the end with a clear conscience, telling himself the mystery was performed duly, the beards rightfully braided, and we (in spite of ourselves) correctly served.  His view of our stupidity, even he, the mighty talker, must have lacked language to express.  He never interfered with my Tahuku work; civilly praised it, idle as it seemed; civilly supposed that I was competent in my own mystery:  such being the attitude of the intelligent and the polite.  And we, on the other hand—­who had yet the most to gain or lose, since the product was to be ours—­who had professed our disability by the very act of hiring him to do it—­were never weary of impeding his own more important labours, and sometimes lacked the sense and the civility to refrain from laughter.

CHAPTER XIV—­IN A CANNIBAL VALLEY

The road from Taahauku to Atuona skirted the north-westerly side of the anchorage, somewhat high up, edged, and sometimes shaded, by the splendid flowers of the flamboyant—­its English name I do not know.  At the turn of the hand, Atuona came in view:  a long beach, a heavy and loud breach of surf, a shore-side village scattered among trees, and the guttered mountains drawing near on both sides above a narrow and rich ravine.  Its infamous repute perhaps affected me; but I thought it the loveliest, and by far the most ominous and gloomy, spot on earth.  Beautiful it surely was;