CHAPTER LXXI. THEY LAND UPON THE ISLAND OF JUAM.
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Crossing the lagoon, our course now lay along the reef
to Juam; a name bestowed upon one of the largest islands
hereabout; and also, collectively, upon several wooded isles
engirdling it, which together were known as the dominions
of one monarch. That monarch was Donjalolo. Just turned
of twenty-five, he was accounted not only the handsomest
man in his dominions, but throughout the lagoon. His
comeliness, however, was so feminine, that he was sometimes
called “Fonoo,” or the Girl.
Our first view of Juam was imposing. A dark green
pile of cliffs, towering some one hundred toises; at top, presenting
a range of steep, gable-pointed projections; as if
some Titanic hammer and chisel had shaped the mass.
Sailing nearer, we perceived an extraordinary rolling of
the sea, which bursting into the lagoon through an adjoining
breach in the reef, surged toward Juam in enormous billows.
At last, dashing against the wall of the cliff, they
played there in unceasing fountains. But under the brow
of a beetling crag, the spray came and went unequally.
There, the blue billows seemed swallowed up, and lost.
Right regally was Juam guarded. For, at this point,
the rock was pierced by a cave, into which the great waves
chased each other like lions; after a hollow, subterraneous
roaring issuing forth with manes disheveled.
Cautiously evading the dangerous currents here ruffling
the lagoon, we rounded the wall of cliff, and shot upon a
smooth expanse; on one side, hemmed in by the long,
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verdent, northern shore of Juam; and across the water, sentineled
by its tributary islets.
With sonorous Vee-Vee in the shark's mouth, we swept
toward the beach, tumultuous with a throng.
Our canoes were secured. And surrounded by eager
glances, we passed the lower ends of several populous valleys;
and crossing a wide, open meadow, gradually ascending,
came to a range of light-green bluffs. Here, we wended
our way down a narrow defile, almost cleaving this quarter
of the island to its base. Black crags frowned overhead:
among them the shouts of the Islanders reverberated. Yet
steeper grew the defile, and more overhanging the crags;
till at last, the keystone of the arch seemed dropped into its
place. We found ourselves in a subterranean tunnel, dimly
lighted by a span of white day at the end.
Emerging, what a scene was revealed! All round, embracing
a circuit of some three leagues, stood heights inaccessible,
here and there, forming buttresses, sheltering deep
recesses between. The bosom of the place was vivid with
verdure.
Shining aslant into this wild hollow, the afternoon sun
lighted up its eastern side with tints of gold. But opposite,
brooded a somber shadow, double-shading the secret places
between the salient spurs of the mountains. Thus cut in
twain by masses of day and night, it seemed as if some Last
Judgment had been enacted in the glen.
No sooner did we emerge from the defile, than we became
sensible of a dull, jarring sound; and Yoomy was almost
tempted to turn and flee, when informed that the sea-cavern,
whose mouth we had passed, was believed to penetrate
deep into the opposite hills; and that the surface of
the amphitheater was depressed beneath that of the lagoon.
But all over the lowermost hill-sides, and sloping
into the glen, stood grand old groves; still and stately,
as if no insolent waves were throbbing in the mountain's
heart.
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Such was Willamilla, the hereditary abode of the young
monarch of Juam.
Was Yillah immured in this strange retreat? But
from those around us naught could we learn.
Our attention was now directed to the habitations of the
glen; comprised in two handsome villages; one to the
west, the other to the east; both stretching along the base
of the cliffs.
Said Media, “Had we arrived at Willamilla in the
morning, we had found Donjalolo and his court in the eastern
village; but being afternoon, we must travel farther,
and seek him in his western retreat; for that is now in the
shade.”
Wending our way, Media added, that aside from his elevated
station as a monarch, Donjalolo was famed for many
uncommon traits; but more especially for certain peculiar
deprivations, under which he labored.
Whereupon Braid-Beard unrolled his old chronicles; and
regaled us with the history, which will be found in the following
chapter.
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Melville, Herman, 1819-1891 [1849], Mardi and a voyage thither, volume 1 (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf275v1].