OF THE SOUTH SEAS 375 



Whose echoes never had been stirred 

 Bj breath of man or song of bird. 



When sky and wind were propitious, and other signs 

 familiar to the Maori indicated that fish were plentiful 

 in the lagoon, the whole village dragged the net. This 

 belonged to the chief, who for his ownership received a 

 percentage of the catch. The net was a hundred and 

 fifty feet long, and was carried out by a dozen canoes or 

 by half a hundred or more men and women, who let it 

 sink to the bottom when up to their necks in water. 

 They then approached the shore with the net in a half- 

 circle, carrying it over the coral heaps, and artfully driv- 

 ing into it all the fish they encountered. In shallow 

 water others waited with little baskets, and, scooping up 

 the fish from the net, emptied them into larger baskets 

 slung from their waists. These fish were not very big, 

 but when larger ones were netted, marksmen with spears 

 waited in the shallows to kill any that leaped from the 

 seine. If the haul was bigger than the needs of the 

 village, the overplus was sent to the market in Papeete, 

 or kept in huge anchored, floating baskets of wicker. 

 These fishermen had been heart and soul in the taJiatai 

 oneone, the fish strike, and when we had poor luck, often 

 the best spearsman led the clan in the air taught them 

 by the leader whom they remembered with pride and 

 affection: 

 Hayrahrooyah ! I 'm a boom ! Hayrahrooyah ! Boomagay ! 

 They associated the air and words with the fish, and 

 deep down in their primitive hearts thought it an in- 

 cantation, such as their tahutahu, the sorcerers of the 

 island, spoke of old. 



