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Vehiatua had come ashore and was at breakfast when we came to the cove. He was a nobly proportioned old man, with thick gray hair and a manner of cheerful, good-natured dignity. His retainers were grouped about him as he ate, serving him with breadfruit, grilled fish fresh from the coals, and bananas from a great bunch they had brought ashore. The old chief’s tattooing, which covered every portion of his body save his face, was the most beautiful and intricate I have ever seen. I was glad that I wore only my kilt, for it is discourteous to approach the great Indian chiefs with covered shoulders. Vehiatua gave no sign of surprise at sight of me.

“Eh, Tehani,” he called out affectionately to his niece. “Your breakfast is ready for you on board. And who is the young man with you?”

“The taio of Hitihiti—Byam is his name.”

“I have heard of him.” And then, turning to me courteously, Vehiatua asked me to join him at his meal. I sat down beside him, nothing loth, and answered his questions regarding Hitihiti and the Bounty, of which he had heard much. He expressed surprise at my knowledge of the Indian tongue, and I told him of my mission and how my taio had aided me.