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A moment's blur of the eyes - and a man with a torch again.



And the torch had scarcely been shaken. "Ah, surely," Rahero said,

"She will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy born in the head;



But time must be given the fool to nourish a fool's belief."

So for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the reef,



Pausing at times and gazing, striking at times with the spear:

- Lastly, uttered the call; and even as the boat drew near,



Like a man that was done with its use, tossed the torch in the sea.

Lightly he leaped on the boat beside the woman; and she



Lightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle and place to sit;

For now the torch was extinguished the night was black as the pit



Rahero set him to row, never a word he spoke,

And the boat sang in the water urged by his vigorous stroke.



- "What ails you?" the woman asked, "and why did you drop the brand?

We have only to kindle another as soon as we come to land."



Never a word Rahero replied, but urged the canoe.

And a chill fell on the woman. - "Atta! speak! is it you?



Speak! Why are you silent? Why do you bend aside?

Wherefore steer to the seaward?" thus she panted and cried.



Never a word from the oarsman, toiling there in the dark;

But right for a gate of the reef he silently headed the bark,



And wielding the single paddle with passionate sweep on sweep,

Drove her, the little fitted, forth on the open deep.



And fear, there where she sat, froze the woman to stone:

Not fear of the crazy boat and the weltering deep alone;



But a keener fear of the night, the dark, and the ghostly hour,

And the thing that drove the canoe with more than a mortal's power



And more than a mortal's boldness. For much she knew of the dead

That haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like men, for bread,



And traffic with human fishers, or slay them and take their ware,

Till the hour when the star of the dead (15) goes down, and the morning air



Blows, and the cocks are singing on shore. And surely she knew

The speechless thing at her side belonged to the grave. (16)



It blew

All night from the south; all night, Rahero contended and kept



The prow to the cresting sea; and, silent as though she slept,

The woman huddled and quaked. And now was the peep of day.



High and long on their left the mountainous island lay;

And over the peaks of Taiarapu arrows of sunlight struck.



On shore the birds were beginning to sing: the ghostly ruck

Of the buried had long ago returned to the covered grave;



And here on the sea, the woman, waxing suddenly brave,

Turned her swiftly about and looked in the face of the man.



And sure he was none that she knew, none of her country or clan:

A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the marks of fire,



But comely and great of stature, a man to obey and admire.

And Rahero regarded her also, fixed, with a frowning face,



Judging the woman's fitness to mother a warlike race.

Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the thigh,



Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported his eye.

"Woman," said he, "last night the men of your folk -



Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in smoke.

It was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man of my hands,



Escaped, a single life; and now to the empty lands

And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with yourself, alone.



Before your mother was born, the die of to-day was thrown

And you selected:- your husband, vainly striving, to fall



Broken between these hands:- yourself to be severed from all,

The places, the people, you love - home, kindred, and clan -



And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a kinless man."

NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO



INTRODUCTION. - This tale, of which I have not consciously

changed a single feature, I received from tradition. It is



highly popular through all the country of the eight Tevas,

the clan to which Rahero belonged; and particularly in



Taiarapu, the windward peninsula of Tahiti, where he lived.

I have heard from end to end two versions; and as many as



five different persons have helped me with details. There

seems no reason why the tale should not be true.



Note 1, "THE AITO," QUASI champion, or brave. One skilled in

the use of some weapon, who wandered the country challenging



distinguished rivals and taking part in local quarrels. It

was in the natural course of his advancement to be at last






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