BY a little before noon we were running down the coast of our destination,Fakarava:the air very light,the sea near smooth;though still we were accompanied by a continuous murmur from the beach,like the sound of a distant train.The isle is of a huge longitude,the enclosed lagoon thirty miles by ten or twelve,and the coral tow-path,which they call the land,some eighty or ninety miles by (possibly)one furlong.That part by which we sailed was all raised;the underwood excellently green,the topping wood of coco-palms continuous -a mark,if I had known it,of man's intervention.For once more,and once more unconsciously,we were within hail of fellow-creatures,and that vacant beach was but a pistol-shot from the capital city of the archipelago.But the life of an atoll,unless it be enclosed,passes wholly on the shores of the lagoon;it is there the villages are seated,there the canoes ply and are drawn up;and the beach of the ocean is a place accursed and deserted,the fit scene only for wizardry and shipwreck,and in the native belief a haunting ground of murderous spectres.
By and by we might perceive a breach in the low barrier;the woods ceased;a glittering point ran into the sea,tipped with an emerald shoal the mark of entrance.As we drew near we met a little run of sea -the private sea of the lagoon having there its origin and end,and here,in the jaws of the gateway,trying vain conclusions with the more majestic heave of the Pacific.The CASCO scarce avowed a shock;but there are times and circumstances when these harbour mouths of inland basins vomit floods,deflecting,burying,and dismasting ships.For,conceive a lagoon perfectly sealed but in the one point,and that of merely navigable width;conceive the tide and wind to have heaped for hours together in that coral fold a superfluity of waters,and the tide to change and the wind fall -the open sluice of some great reservoirs at home will give an image of the unstemmable effluxion.
We were scarce well headed for the pass before all heads were craned over the rail.For the water,shoaling under our board,became changed in a moment to surprising hues of blue and grey;and in its transparency the coral branched and blossomed,and the fish of the inland sea cruised visibly below us,stained and striped,and even beaked like parrots.I have paid in my time to view many curiosities;never one so curious as that first sight over the ship's rail in the lagoon of Fakarava.But let not the reader be deceived with hope.I have since entered,I suppose,some dozen atolls in different parts of the Pacific,and the experience has never been repeated.That exquisite hue and transparency of submarine day,and these shoals of rainbow fish,have not enraptured me again.
Before we could raise our eyes from that engaging spectacle the schooner had slipped betwixt the pierheads of the reef,and was already quite committed to the sea within.The containing shores are so little erected,and the lagoon itself is so great,that,for the more part,it seemed to extend without a check to the horizon.
Here and there,indeed,where the reef carried an inlet,like a signet-ring upon a finger,there would be a pencilling of palms;here and there,the green wall of wood ran solid for a length of miles;and on the port hand,under the highest grove of trees,a few houses sparkled white -Rotoava,the metropolitan settlement of the Paumotus.Hither we beat in three tacks,and came to an anchor close in shore,in the first smooth water since we had left San Francisco,five fathoms deep,where a man might look overboard all day at the vanishing cable,the coral patches,and the many-coloured fish.
Fakarava was chosen to be the seat of Government from nautical considerations only.It is eccentrically situate;the productions,even for a low island,poor;the population neither many nor -for Low Islanders -industrious.But the lagoon has two good passages,one to leeward,one to windward,so that in all states of the wind it can be left and entered,and this advantage,for a government of scattered islands,was decisive.A pier of coral,landing-stairs,a harbour light upon a staff and pillar,and two spacious Government bungalows in a handsome fence,give to the northern end of Rotoava a great air of consequence.This is confirmed on the one hand by an empty prison,on the other by a gendarmerie pasted over with hand-bills in Tahitian,land-law notices from Papeete,and republican sentiments from Paris,signed (a little after date)'Jules Grevy,PERIHIDENTE.'Quite at the far end a belfried Catholic chapel concludes the town;and between,on a smooth floor of white coral sand and under the breezy canopy of coco-palms,the houses of the natives stand irregularly scattered,now close on the lagoon for the sake of the breeze,now back under the palms for love of shadow.
