Spirit of the Old Polynesian

Navigators is Not Dead

From Our Own Correspondent

PAPEETE, January 2.

THAT the spirit of enterprise and adventure displayed so strongly by the old-time Polynesian navigators is not yet completely dead was shown at the Papeete Tribunal recently.

A native of Tahiti, whose name mat ters little, was before the court to an swer a charge of gaol breaking, and under stress of examination revealed, bit by bit, the full story of his escape and subsequent recapture.

Seizing a moment when the warder’s back was turned, he darted into the bush, which in Tahiti presents a dense wall of vegetation on either side of the road in many places, and was quickly out of sight. For many days after wards, while the hue and cry was on, the escapee kept to the unfrequented valleys of the interior, and subsisted without difficulty on crayfish, eels, breadfruit, plantains and other natural island products, which are to be found in abundance.

Finally, he left the hills, stole quietly down to the beach at night, lifted the first canoe he found drawn up there, and paddled off to the west ward, on a journey that came near costing him his life.

He reached Moorea. which is some 12 miles distant, before dawn and

again took to the bush, for pursuit was pretty certain up to this point. With the fall of darkness he made the jour ney overland to the extreme western point of the island, stole another canoe there and paddled off to Maiao, an un frequented island, without any white people on it, some 40 miles distant.

Luck was with him until close to the island, when the weather changed, and he had to cope with heavy seas and treacherous currents, but he finally made a landing, minus his canoe, which was battered to pieces in the surf. Here, by giving out a plausible tale to the natives, he hoped to re main for many a day unmolested.

As luck would have it, however, at this place, where ships are seldom seen, a cutter blew along from Papeete three days after his arrival, and, of course, brought the story of his escape.

There was nothing to be done now but purloin another canoe and set forth again—this time on a much more risky journey, for the nearest island on which he could have a hope of safety was at least 80 miles away to the north west.

Ill-fortune dogged him from now on.

The weather grew boisterous and kept him constantly bailing out his frail canoe, so that he had little time to paddle along towards his destination.

His supply of coconuts was lost over board. the lashings of his outrigger came apart and put him in an ex tremely perilous situation. Nothing daunted, however, he tore his dunga ree pants into strips, said a prayer to his shark god, and succeeded in restor ing his outrigger to its proper position.

While doing so, the canoe got com pletely swamped, so that his paddle floated awav beyond recovery, and he had to do the best he could from then on with one of the seats of the canoe.

After three days of thus battling with the elements, he finally made the south end of Raiatea. He landed there safely, but in an exhausted condition, only to be sent back to Papeete a few days later.