OF THE SOUTH SEAS 459 



to glimpse a dark and heaving panorama of surf, rock, 

 and bluff in the mists that now and again were pene- 

 trated by the hot sun. 



"Maitai! Hohoi!" I replied above the clangor, and 

 raised my paddle. 



Carefully and in a wide circle the vaa crept around to 

 head back toward our port, and it was after sunset be- 

 fore we were in Teta's house in Puforatoai. The vil- 

 lagers met us with torches and incredulous aues and we 

 walked up the road singing the song of the "Ai Dobbe- 

 belly Dobbebelly," which was known wherever a fisher 

 for market dwelt in all Tahiti. The farther from Pa- 

 peete and more and more as time passed, the words lost 

 resemblance to English, and became mere native sounds 

 without any exact meaning, but with a never-forgotten 

 sentiment of rebellion against government and of gild 

 alliance. 



"Give us a hand-out!" had changed {rom^kizzandow^* 

 in Papeete, to "Hitia o te ra!" which meant that the sun 

 was rising. Within a year or two the entire text would 

 doubtless merge into Tahitian with only the martial air 

 of "Revive us again!" and the dimming memory of the 

 fish-strike to recall its origin. I had known a native 

 who, whenever he approached me, sang in a faltering 

 tone, "Feery feery!" 



I asked him after many weeks what he meant, and 

 he said that that was a Mmene, which a young American 

 had sung at his potations in his village in the Marquesas 

 Islands. I had him repeat "Feery feery!" dozens of 

 times, and finally snatched at an old glee which ran 

 through my mind: "Shoo Fly, don't bother me!" and 

 when I sang it. 



