Mardi: Chapter 54

Chapter 54

A Gentleman From The Sun

Never before had I seen the deep foliage of woodlands navigated by
canoes. But on they came sailing through the leaves; two abreast;
borne on men's shoulders; in each a chief, carried along to the
measured march of his bearers; paddle blades reversed under arms. As
they emerged, the multitude made gestures of homage. At the distance
of some eight or ten paces the procession halted; when the kings
alighted to the ground.

They were fine-looking men, arrayed in various garbs. Rare the show
of stained feathers, and jewels, and other adornments. Brave the
floating of dyed mantles.

The regal bearing of these personages, the deference paid them, and
their entire self-possession, not a little surprised me. And it
seemed preposterous, to assume a divine dignity in the presence of
these undoubted potentates of _terra firma_. Taji seemed oozing from
my fingers' ends. But courage! and erecting my crest, I strove to
look every inch the character I had determined to assume.

For a time, it was almost impossible to tell with what emotions
precisely the chiefs were regarding me. They said not a word.

But plucking up heart of grace, I crossed my cutlass on my chest, and
reposing my hand on the hilt, addressed their High Mightinesses thus.
"Men of Mardi, I come from the sun. When this morning it rose and
touched the wave, I pushed my shallop from its golden beach, and
hither sailed before its level rays. I am Taji."

More would have been added, but I paused for the effect of my
exordium.

Stepping back a pace or two, the chiefs eagerly conversed.

Emboldened, I returned to the charge, and labored hard to impress
them with just such impressions of me and mine, as I deemed
desirable. The gentle Yillah was a seraph from the sun; Samoa I had
picked off a reef in my route from that orb; and as for the Skyeman,
why, as his name imported, he came from above. In a word, we were all
strolling divinities.

Advancing toward the Chamois, one of the kings, a calm old man, now
addressed me as follows:--"Is this indeed Taji? he, who according to
a tradition, was to return to us after five thousand moons? But that
period is yet unexpired. What bring'st thou hither then, Taji, before
thy time? Thou wast but a quarrelsome demi-god, say the legends, when
thou dwelt among our sires. But wherefore comest thou, Taji? Truly,
thou wilt interfere with the worship of thy images, and we have
plenty of gods besides thee. But comest thou to fight?--We have
plenty of spears, and desire not thine. Comest thou to dwell?--Small
are the houses of Mardi. Or comest thou to fish in the sea? Tell us,
Taji."

Now, all this was a series of posers hard to be answered; furnishing
a curious example, moreover, of the reception given to strange demi-
gods when they travel without their portmanteaus; and also of the
familiar manner in which these kings address the immortals. Much I
mourned that I had not previously studied better my part, and learned
the precise nature of my previous existence in the land.

But nothing like carrying it bravely.

"Attend. Taji comes, old man, because it pleases him to come. And
Taji will depart when it suits him. Ask the shades of your sires
whether Taji thus scurvily greeted them, when they came stalking into
his presence in the land of spirits. No. Taji spread the banquet. He
removed their mantles. He kindled a fire to drive away the damp. He
said not, 'Come you to fight, you fogs and vapors? come you to dwell?
or come you to fish in the sea?' Go to, then, kings of Mardi!"

Upon this, the old king fell back; and his place was supplied by a
noble chief, of a free, frank bearing. Advancing quickly toward the
boat, he exclaimed--"I am Media, the son of Media. Thrice welcome,
Taji. On my island of Odo hast thou an altar. I claim thee for my
guest." He then reminded the rest, that the strangers had voyaged
far, and needed repose. And, furthermore, that he proposed escorting
them forthwith to his own dominions; where, next day, he would be
happy to welcome all visitants.

And good as his word, he commanded his followers to range themselves
under the Chamois. Springing out of our prow, the Upoluan was
followed by Jarl; leaving Yillah and Taji to be borne therein toward
the sea.

Soon, we were once more afloat; by our side, Media sociably seated;
six of his paddlers, perched upon the gunwale, swiftly urging us over
the lagoon.

The transition from the grove to the sea was instantaneous. All
seemed a dream.

The place to which we were hastening, being some distance away, as we
rounded isle after isle, the extent of the Archipelago grew upon us
greatly.

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