As they rode up, we cavaliers, with becoming gallantry, offered our assistance while they dismounted. Smitten through and through by the bright eyes of one little houri who possessed far more than her share of the first requirement, and, taking the second for granted, I courteously prepared to aid her to alight; when, to my discomfiture, instead of a gracious acknowledgment of my services, she gave me a sharp cut with her whip. As, however, she laughed merrily at my wry faces, I accepted the act as a scratch of the kitten’s claws; at least, it was no sign of indifference, and giving myself the benefit of the doubt, lifted her from her saddle without further chastisement, except a coquettish smile that wounded, alas! more than it healed.
The feast was thus prepared: poultry, sucking-pigs, and puppies—the last, after being scalded and scraped, were stuffed with vegetables and spices, rolled in plantain leaves, and placed in the ground upon stones already heated. More stones were then laid over them, and fires lighted on the top of all. While the cooking was in progress, the Kanakas ground _taro_ roots for the paste called ‘poe’; the girls danced and sang. The songs were devoid of melody, being musical recitations of imaginary love adventures, accompanied by swayings of the body and occasional choral interruptions, all becoming more and more excited as the story or song approached its natural climax. Sometimes this was varied by a solitary dancer starting from the circle, and performing the wildest bacchanalian antics, to the vocal incitement of the rest. This only ended with physical exhaustion, or collapse from feminine hysteria.
The food was excellent; the stuffed puppy was a dish for an epicure. Though knives and forks were unknown, and each helped herself from the plantain leaf, one had not the least objection to do likewise, for the most scrupulous cleanliness is one of the many merits of these fascinating creatures. Before every dip into the leaf, the dainty little fingers were plunged into bowls of fresh water provided for the purpose. Delicious fruit followed the substantial fare; a small glass of _kava_—a juice extracted from a root of the pepper tribe—was then served to all alike. Having watched the process of preparing the beverage, I am unable to speak as to its flavour. The making of it is remarkable. A number of women sit on the ground, chew the root, and spit its juice into a bowl. The liquor is kept till it ferments, after which it becomes highly intoxicating. I regret to say that its potency was soon manifested on this occasion. No sooner did the poison set their wild blood tingling, than a free fight began for the remaining gourds. Such a scratching, pulling of hair, clawing, kicking, and crying, were never seen. Only by main force did we succeed in restoring peace. It is but fair to state that, except on the celebration of one or two solemn and sacred rites such as that of the _Loohou_, these island Thyades never touch fermented liquors.