Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta A Peep at Polynesian Life. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta A Peep at Polynesian Life. Mostrar todas las entradas

miércoles, 8 de febrero de 2017

A Peep at Polynesian Life



Ni siquiera el barco quiere seguir en alta mar. Herman Melville, en Typee, señala que los marineros quieren llegar a tierra firma.Al final, en vocabulario Sloop of war

Poor old ship! Her very looks denote her desires! how deplorably she appears! The paint on her sides, burnt up by the scorching sun, is puffed out and cracked. See the weeds she trails along with her, and what an unsightly bunch of those horrid barnacles has formed about her stern-piece; and every time she rises on a sea, she shows her copper torn away, or hanging in jagged strips.
Poor old ship! I say again: for six months she has been rolling and pitching about, never for one moment at rest. But courage, old lass, I hope to see thee soon within a biscuit’s toss of the merry land, riding snugly at anchor in some green cove, and sheltered from the boisterous winds.
‘Hurra, my lads! It’s a settled thing; next week we shape our course to the Marquesas!’ The Marquesas! What strange visions of outlandish things does the very name spirit up! Naked houris—cannibal banquets—groves of cocoanut—coral reefs—tattooed chiefs—and bamboo temples; sunny valleys planted with bread-fruit-trees—carved canoes dancing on the flashing blue waters—savage woodlands guarded by horrible idols—HEATHENISH RITES AND HUMAN SACRIFICES.