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<h2> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </h2>
<p>KINDNESS OF MARHEYO AND THE REST OF THE ISLANDERS—A FULL DESCRIPTION
OF THE BREAD-FRUIT TREE—DIFFERENT MODES OF PREPARING THE FRUIT</p>
<p>ALL the inhabitants of the valley treated me with great kindness; but as
to the household of Marheyo, with whom I was now permanently domiciled,
nothing could surpass their efforts to minister to my comfort. To the
gratification of my palate they paid the most unwearied attention. They
continually invited me to partake of food, and when after eating heartily
I declined the viands they continued to offer me, they seemed to think
that my appetite stood in need of some piquant stimulant to excite its
activity.</p>
<p>In pursuance of this idea, old Marheyo himself would hie him away to the
sea-shore by the break of day, for the purpose of collecting various
species of rare sea-weed; some of which among these people are considered
a great luxury. After a whole day spent in this employment, he would
return about nightfall with several cocoanut shells filled with different
descriptions of kelp. In preparing these for use he manifested all the
ostentation of a professed cook, although the chief mystery of the affair
appeared to consist in pouring water in judicious quantities upon the
slimy contents of his cocoanut shells.</p>
<p>The first time he submitted one of these saline salads to my critical
attention I naturally thought that anything collected at such pains must
possess peculiar merits; but one mouthful was a complete dose; and great
was the consternation of the old warrior at the rapidity with which I
ejected his Epicurean treat.</p>
<p>How true it is, that the rarity of any particular article enhances its
value amazingly. In some part of the valley—I know not where, but
probably in the neighbourhood of the sea—the girls were sometimes in
the habit of procuring small quantities of salt, a thimble-full or so
being the result of the united labours of a party of five or six employed
for the greater part of the day. This precious commodity they brought to
the house, enveloped in multitudinous folds of leaves; and as a special
mark of the esteem in which they held me, would spread an immense leaf on
the ground, and dropping one by one a few minute particles of the salt
upon it, invite me to taste them.</p>
<p>From the extravagant value placed upon the article, I verily believe, that
with a bushel of common Liverpool salt all the real estate in Typee might
have been purchased. With a small pinch of it in one hand, and a quarter
section of a bread-fruit in the other, the greatest chief in the valley
would have laughed at all luxuries of a Parisian table.</p>
<p>The celebrity of the bread-fruit tree, and the conspicuous place it
occupies in a Typee bill of fare, induces me to give at some length a
general description of the tree, and the various modes in which the fruit
is prepared.</p>
<p>The bread-fruit tree, in its glorious prime, is a grand and towering
object, forming the same feature in a Marquesan landscape that the
patriarchal elm does in New England scenery. The latter tree it not a
little resembles in height, in the wide spread of its stalwart branches,
and in its venerable and imposing aspect.</p>
<p>The leaves of the bread-fruit are of great size, and their edges are cut
and scolloped as fantastically as those of a lady's lace collar. As they
annually tend towards decay, they almost rival in brilliant variety of
their gradually changing hues the fleeting shades of the expiring dolphin.
The autumnal tints of our American forests, glorious as they are, sink
into nothing in comparison with this tree.</p>
<p>The leaf, in one particular stage, when nearly all the prismatic colours
are blended on its surface, is often converted by the natives into a
superb and striking head-dress. The principal fibre traversing its length
being split open a convenient distance, and the elastic sides of the
aperture pressed apart, the head is inserted between them, the leaf
drooping on one side, with its forward half turned jauntily up on the
brows, and the remaining part spreading laterally behind the ears.</p>
<p>The fruit somewhat resembles in magnitude and general appearance one of
our citron melons of ordinary size; but, unlike the citron, it has no
sectional lines drawn along the outside. Its surface is dotted all over
with little conical prominences, looking not unlike the knobs, on an
antiquated church door. The rind is perhaps an eighth of an inch in
thickness; and denuded of this at the time when it is in the greatest
perfection, the fruit presents a beautiful globe of white pulp, the whole
of which may be eaten, with the exception of a slender core, which is
easily removed.</p>
<p>The bread-fruit, however, is never used, and is indeed altogether unfit to
be eaten, until submitted in one form or other to the action of fire.</p>
<p>The most simple manner in which this operation is performed, and I think,
the best, consists in placing any number of the freshly plucked fruit,
when in a particular state of greenness, among the embers of a fire, in
the same way that you would roast a potato. After the lapse of ten or
fifteen minutes, the green rind embrowns and cracks, showing through the
fissures in its sides the milk-white interior. As soon as it cools the
rind drops off, and you then have the soft round pulp in its purest and
most delicious state. Thus eaten, it has a mild and pleasing flavour.</p>
<p>Sometimes after having been roasted in the fire, the natives snatch it
briskly from the embers, and permitting it to slip out of the yielding
rind into a vessel of cold water, stir up the mixture, which they call
'bo-a-sho'. I never could endure this compound, and indeed the preparation
is not greatly in vogue among the more polite Typees.</p>
<p>There is one form, however, in which the fruit is occasionally served,
that renders it a dish fit for a king. As soon as it is taken from the
fire the exterior is removed, the core extracted, and the remaining part
is placed in a sort of shallow stone mortar, and briskly worked with a
pestle of the same substance. While one person is performing this
operation, another takes a ripe cocoanut, and breaking it in halves, which
they also do very cleverly, proceeds to grate the juicy meat into fine
particles. This is done by means of a piece of mother-of-pearl shell,
lashed firmly to the extreme end of a heavy stick, with its straight side
accurately notched like a saw. The stick is sometimes a grotesquely-formed
limb of a tree, with three or four branches twisting from its body like so
many shapeless legs, and sustaining it two or three feet from the ground.</p>
<p>The native, first placing a calabash beneath the nose, as it were, of his
curious-looking log-steed, for the purpose of receiving the grated
fragments as they fall, mounts astride of it as if it were a hobby-horse,
and twirling the inside of his hemispheres of cocoanut around the sharp
teeth of the mother-of-pearl shell, the pure white meat falls in snowy
showers into the receptacle provided. Having obtained a quantity
sufficient for his purpose, he places it in a bag made of the net-like
fibrous substance attached to all cocoanut trees, and compressing it over
the bread-fruit, which being now sufficiently pounded, is put into a
wooden bowl—extracts a thick creamy milk. The delicious liquid soon
bubbles round the fruit, and leaves it at last just peeping above its
surface.</p>
<p>This preparation is called 'kokoo', and a most luscious preparation it is.
The hobby-horse and the pestle and mortar were in great requisition during
the time I remained in the house of Marheyo, and Kory-Kory had frequent
occasion to show his skill in their use.</p>
<p>But the great staple articles of food into which the bread-fruit is
converted by these natives are known respectively by the names of Amar and
Poee-Poee.</p>
<p>At a certain season of the year, when the fruit of the hundred groves of
the valley has reached its maturity, and hangs in golden spheres from
every branch, the islanders assemble in harvest groups, and garner in the
abundance which surrounds them.</p>
<p>The trees are stripped of their nodding burdens, which, easily freed from
the rind and core, are gathered together in capacious wooden vessels,
where the pulpy fruit is soon worked by a stone pestle, vigorously
applied, into a blended mass of a doughy consistency, called by the
natives 'Tutao'. This is then divided into separate parcels, which, after
being made up into stout packages, enveloped in successive folds of
leaves, and bound round with thongs of bark, are stored away in large
receptacles hollowed in the earth, from whence they are drawn as occasion
may require. In this condition the Tutao sometimes remains for years, and
even is thought to improve by age. Before it is fit to be eaten, however,
it has to undergo an additional process. A primitive oven is scooped in
the ground, and its bottom being loosely covered with stones, a large fire
is kindled within it. As soon as the requisite degree of heat is attained,
the embers are removed, and the surface of the stones being covered with
thick layers of leaves, one of the large packages of Tutao is deposited
upon them and overspread with another layer of leaves. The whole is then
quickly heaped up with earth, and forms a sloping mound.</p>
<p>The Tutao thus baked is called 'Amar'; the action of the oven having
converted it into an amber-coloured caky substance, a little tart, but not
at all disagreeable to the taste.</p>
<p>By another and final process the 'Amar' is changed into 'Poee-Poee'. This
transition is rapidly effected. The Amar is placed in a vessel, and mixed
with water until it gains a proper pudding-like consistency, when, without
further preparation, it is in readiness for use. This is the form in which
the 'Tutao' is generally consumed. The singular mode of eating it I have
already described.</p>
<p>Were it not that the bread-fruit is thus capable of being preserved for a
length of time, the natives might be reduced to a state of starvation; for
owing to some unknown cause the trees sometimes fail to bear fruit; and on
such occasions the islanders chiefly depend upon the supplies they have
been enabled to store away.</p>
<p>This stately tree, which is rarely met with upon the Sandwich Islands, and
then only of a very inferior quality, and at Tahiti does not abound to a
degree that renders its fruit the principal article of food, attains its
greatest excellence in the genial climate of the Marquesan group, where it
grows to an enormous magnitude, and flourishes in the utmost abundance.</p>
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