Manchurian Books

The entrance into Papeiti, the port of Tahiti, is
exceedingly dangerous; it is surrounded by reefs of coral as by a
fortress, while wild and foaming breakers, rolling on every side,
leave but a small place open through which a vessel can steer.
A pilot came out to meet us, and, although the wind was so
unfavourable that the sails had to be trimmed every instant, steered
us safely into port. Afterwards, when we had landed, we were
congratulated heartily on our good fortune; every one had watched
our course with the greatest anxiety, and, at the last turn the ship
took, expected to see her strike upon a coral reef. This misfortune
had happened to a French man-of-war, that at the period of our
arrival had been lying at anchor for some months, engaged in
repairing the damage done.
Before we could come to an anchor we were surrounded by half-a-dozen
pirogues, or boats, manned by Indians, who climbed up from all sides
upon the deck to offer us fruit and shell-fish, but not as formerly
for red rags or glass beads--such golden times for travellers are
over.


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