Some large, round leaves were laid in front of me, and the yam placed upon them.  Then mine host turned his attention to the bundle first unearthed, which concealed a chicken, so perfectly done that, although the bones drew out of the meat as if it had been jelly, it was full of juice and flavour; and except for a slight foreign twang, referrible, doubtless, to the leaves in which it had been enwrapped, I do not think it could have been possible to cook anything in a better way, or one more calculated to retain all the natural juices of the meat.  The fowl was laid beside the yam, another nut broached; then, handing me the big knife, my “flem” bade me welcome, informing me that I saw my dinner.  As nothing would induce him to join me, the idea being contrary to his notions of respect due to a guest, I was fain to fall to, and an excellent meal I made.  For dessert, a basketful of such oranges freshly plucked as cannot be tasted under any other conditions, and crimson bananas, which upon being peeled, looked like curved truncheons of golden jelly, after tasting which I refused to touch anything else.

A corn-cob cigarette closed the banquet, After expressing my thanks, I noticed that the pain of his leg was giving my friend considerable uneasiness, which he was stolidly enduring upon my account rather than appear discourteously anxious to get rid of me.  So, with the excuse that I must needs be going, having another appointment, I left the good fellow and strolled around to the chapel, where I sat enjoying the sight of those simple-minded Kanakas at their devotions till it was time to return on board.  Before closing this chapter, I would like, for the benefit of such of my readers who have not heard yet of Kanaka cookery, to say that it is simplicity itself.  A hole is scooped in the earth, in which a fire is made (of wood), and kept burning until a fair-sized heap of glowing charcoal remains.  Pebbles are then thrown in until the charcoal is covered.  Whatever is to be cooked is enveloped in leaves, placed upon the pebbles, and more leaves heaped upon it.  The earth is then thrown back into the cavity, and well stamped down.  A long time is, of course, needed for the viands to get cooked through; but so subtle is the mode that overdoing anything is almost an impossibility.  A couple of days may pass from the time of “putting down” the joint, yet when it is dug up it will be smoking hot, retaining all its juices, tender as jelly, but, withal, as full of flavour as it is possible for cooked meat to be.  No matter how large the joint is, or how tough the meat, this gentle suasion will render it succulent and tasty; and no form of civilized cookery can in the least compare with it.

*

CHAPTER XXII

FAREWELL TO VAU VAU