Kummel (of all drinks)was served in tumblers;in the midst sat the crown prince,a fatted youth,surrounded by fresh bottles and busily plying the corkscrew;and king,chief,and commons showed the loose mouth,the uncertain joints,and the blurred and animated eye of the early drinker.It was plain we were impatiently expected;the king retired with alacrity to dress,the guards were despatched after their uniforms;and we were left to await the issue of these preparations with a shedful of tipsy natives.The orgie had proceeded further than on Sunday.The day promised to be of great heat;it was already sultry,the courtiers were already fuddled;and still the kummel continued to go round,and the crown prince to play butler.Flemish ******* followed upon Flemish excess;and a funny dog,a handsome fellow,gaily dressed,and with a full turban of frizzed hair,delighted the company with a humorous courtship of a lady in a manner not to be described.It was our diversion,in this time of waiting,to observe the gathering of the guards.They have European arms,European uniforms,and (to their sorrow)European shoes.We saw one warrior (like Mars)in the article of being armed;two men and a stalwart woman were scarce strong enough to boot him;and after a single appearance on parade the army is crippled for a week.
At last,the gates under the king's house opened;the army issued,one behind another,with guns and epaulettes;the colours stooped under the gateway;majesty followed in his uniform bedizened with gold lace;majesty's wife came next in a hat and feathers,and an ample trained silk gown;the royal imps succeeded;there stood the pageantry of Makin marshalled on its chosen theatre.Dickens might have told how serious they were;how tipsy;how the king melted and streamed under his cocked hat;how he took station by the larger of his two cannons -austere,majestic,but not truly vertical;how the troops huddled,and were straightened out,and clubbed again;how they and their firelocks raked at various inclinations like the masts of ships;and how an ******* photographer reviewed,arrayed,and adjusted them,to see his dispositions change before he reached the camera.
The business was funny to see;I do not know that it is graceful to laugh at;and our report of these transactions was received on our return with the shaking of grave heads.
The day had begun ill;eleven hours divided us from sunset;and at any moment,on the most trifling chance,the trouble might begin.
The Wightman compound was in a military sense untenable,commanded on three sides by houses and thick bush;the town was computed to contain over a thousand stand of excellent new arms;and retreat to the ships,in the case of an alert,was a recourse not to be thought of.Our talk that morning must have closely reproduced the talk in English garrisons before the Sepoy mutiny;the sturdy doubt that any mischief was in prospect,the sure belief that (should any come)there was nothing left but to go down fighting,the half-amused,half-anxious attitude of mind in which we were awaiting fresh developments.
The kummel soon ran out;we were scarce returned before the king had followed us in quest of more.Mr.Corpse was now divested of his more awful attitude,the lawless bulk of him again encased in striped pyjamas;a guardsman brought up the rear with his rifle at the trail:and his majesty was further accompanied by a Rarotongan whalerman and the playful courtier with the turban of frizzed hair.
There was never a more lively deputation.The whalerman was gapingly,tearfully tipsy:the courtier walked on air;the king himself was even sportive.Seated in a chair in the Ricks'sitting-room,he bore the brunt of our prayers and menaces unmoved.