Mystic Isles of the South Seas. Frederick O'Brien

6
Chapter I
Departure from San Francisco--Nature man left behind--Fellow-passengers
on the Noa-Noa--Tragedy of the Chinese pundit--Strange stories of
the South Seas--The Tahitian Hula.
The warning gong had sent all but crew and passengers ashore, though
our ship did not leave the dock. Her great bulk still lay along the
piling, though the gangway was withdrawn. The small groups on the
pier waited tensely for the last words with those departing. These
passengers were inwardly bored with the prolonged farewells, and
wanted to be free to observe their fellow-voyagers and the movement
of the ship. They conversed in shouts with those ashore, but most of
the meanings were lost in the noise of the shuffling of baggage and
freight, the whistling of ferries, and the usual turmoil of the San
Francisco waterfront. I was glad that none had come to see me off,
for I was curious about my unknown companions upon the long traverse
to the South Seas, and I had wilfully put behind me all that America
and Europe held to adventure in the vasts of ocean below the equator.
But the whistle I awaited to sound our leaving was silent. Officers
of the ship rushed about as if bent on relieving her of some
pressing danger, and I caught fragments of orders and replies which
indicated that until a search was completed she could not stir on
her journey. Then I heard cries of anger and protest, and caught
a glimpse of a man whose appearance provoked confusing emotions of
astonishment, admiration, and laughter. He was dressed in a Roman
toga of rough monk's-cloth, and had on sandals. He was being hustled
bodily over the restored gangway, and was resisting valiantly the
second officer, purser, and steward, who were hardly able to move him,
so powerfully was he made. One of his sandals suddenly fell into the
bay. He had seized hold of the rail of the gangway, and the leather
sandal dropped into the water with a slight splash. His grasp of the
rail being broken, he was gradually being pushed, limping, to the
dock. His one bare foot and his half-exposed and shapely body caused
a gale of laughter from the docks and the wharf.
The gangway was quickly withdrawn, and our ship began to move from
the shore. The ejected one stood watching us with sorrow shadowing
his large eyes. He was of middle size; with the form of a David
of Michelangelo, though lithe, and he wore no hat, but had a long,