Omoo is not simply a protest work. It is not solely an autobiography or a diatribe against the missionaries or a comic piece with a quixotic protagonist. All of these elements are present, but Melville is interested in his art as well as his subject. Doctor Long Ghost is based loosely on John Troy, the steward of the Lucy Ann, but he is also a figure of Melville’s art and imagination and can be relished as such. In Long Ghost Melville has created a wise, ironic, very comic character. Through this character he can consider the absurdities of social hierarchy and convention, the foibles of human nature, and the destruction of native culture. Doctor Long Ghost is an important step toward the creation of Ishmael in Moby-Dick. He is educated, well-read, jaded, and cocky. The narrator recognizes all these elements without himself being educated and is the one who develops the fullness of the ironic outsider stance. These two characters will mesh in Ishmael, a former schoolmaster turned wanderer who is ready to sign as a fo’c’s’le hand.

  The sailors, missionaries, and natives Melville encountered in Polynesia in 1842 had restricted vision. The sailors were not reflective, looking only for physical comfort and relative ease. The missionaries were reflective, but reflective within channels formed by the elaborate social conventions to which they adhered. The natives observed and reacted within the dictates of their own customs. Melville has a wider view. This larger vision, encompassing his observations of both native and European customs, his questioning of both worldly and religious authority, and his eye for a lovely woman, a good time, and a practical joke even in the midst of his passionate concern with the devastation of native culture, is the quality that allows Melville to transform his material and become a great artist.

  Works Cited

  Aaron, Daniel. “Melville and the Missionaries.” The New England Quarterly 8 (September 1935): 404–8.

  Anderson, Charles Roberts. Melville in the South Seas. New York: Columbia University Press, 1939.

  Arvin, Newton. Herman Melville. New York: William Sloane Associates, 1950.

  Bercaw, Mary K. Melville’s Sources. Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1987.

  Bercaw Edwards, Mary K. “Melville’s Whaling Years.” In Melville “Among the Nations.” Eds. Sanford E. Marovitz and A. C. Christodoulou. Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press, 2001, 27–37.

  Berthoff, Warner. The Example of Melville. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1962.

  British Consular Records. Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia. Reprinted as “Revolt Documents.” Ed. Harrison Hayford. Omoo. New York: Hendricks House, 1969, 309–39.

  Dening, Greg. Beach Crossings: Voyaging Across Times, Cultures, and Self. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004.

  ——. Islands and Beaches: Discourse on a Silent Land: Marquesas 1774–1880. Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1980.

  Eliot, T. S. “Philip Massinger.” The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism. London: Methuen & Co., 1932; first published 1920.

  Ellis, William. Polynesian Researches. Second edition. New York: J. & J. Harper, 1833.

  French Overseas Records. Archives of the Ministère de la France d’Outre-mer, Paris, France.

  Hayes, Kevin J. “Two Melville Reviews in the London Economist.” Melville Society Extracts 80 (February 1990): 12–13.

  Hayford, Harrison, and Walter Blair. Editors’ Introduction. Omoo. New York: Hendricks House, 1969, xvii–lii.

  Heflin, Wilson. Herman Melville’s Whaling Years. Eds. Mary K. Bercaw Edwards and Thomas Farel Heffernan. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2004.

  ——. “Melville’s Third Whaler.” Modern Language Notes 64 (April 1949): 241–45.

  Kemper, Steven. “Omoo: Germinal Melville.” Studies in the Novel 10 (1978): 420–30.

  Kerouac, Jack. On the Road. New York: Viking, 1957.

  Langsdorff, Georg H. von. Voyages and Travels in Various Parts of the World During the Years 1803, 1804, 1805, 1806, and 1807. London: Henry Colburn, 1813.

  Lawrence, D. H. Studies in Classic American Literature. New York: Thomas Seltzer, 1923.

  Leeson, Ida. “The Mutiny on the Lucy Ann.” Philological Quarterly 19 (October 1940): 370–79.

  Leyda, Jay, ed. The Melville Log: A Documentary Life of Herman Melville 1819–1891. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1951.

  Logbook of Charles. Kendall Collection, New Bedford Whaling Museum, New Bedford, Mass.

  Logbook of Potomac. Peabody-Essex Institute, Salem, Mass.

  Logbook of La Reine Blanche. Archives Nationales, Paris, France.

  Machor, James L. “Reading the ‘Rinsings of the Cup’: The Antebellum Reception of Melville’s Omoo.” Nineteenth-Century Literature 59 (June 2004), 53–77.

  Melville, Herman. Correspondence. Ed. Lynn Horth. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1993. Cited as Corr within the text.

  ——. Israel Potter. Eds. Harrison Hayford, Hershel Parker, and G. Thomas Tanselle. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1982.

  ——. Moby-Dick. Eds. Harrison Hayford, Hershel Parker, and G. Thomas Tanselle. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1988.

  ——. Omoo. Eds. Harrison Hayford, Hershel Parker, and G. Thomas Tanselle. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1968.

  ——. The Piazza Tales and Other Prose Pieces 1839–1860. Eds. Harrison Hayford, Alma A. MacDougall, and G. Thomas Tanselle. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1987.

  ——. Typee. Eds. Harrison Hayford, Hershel Parker, and G. Thomas Tanselle. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1968.

  Mumford, Lewis. Herman Melville. New York: Literary Guild of America, 1929.

  Oliviero, Toni. “Ambiguous Utopia: Savagery and Civilization in ‘Typee’ and ‘Omoo.’” Modern Language Studies 13 Winter 1983): 39–46.

  Parker, Hershel. Herman Melville: A Biography. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996, 2002.

  Perkins, Edward T. Na Motu: or, Reef-Rovings in the South Seas. New York: Garret, 1854.

  Porter, David. Journal of a Cruise Made to the Pacific Ocean. Second edition. New York: Wiley & Halsted, 1822.

  Reviews of Omoo in chronological order:

  London Spectator. April 10, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 240.

  London Economist. April 10, 1847. Quoted in Hayes, 13.

  Boston Christian Observatory. May 1847. Quoted in Log I: 246.

  Walt Whitman. Brooklyn Eagle. May 5, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 243.

  Toronto Anglo American. May 8, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 244.

  Albion. May 8, 1847.

  New-York Evangelist. May 27, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 245.

  Littell’s Living Age. May 29, 1847.

  London Literary Gazette. May 29, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 246.

  Horace Greeley. New-York Weekly Tribune. June 26, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 248.

  George Washington Peck. American Review: A Whig Journal of Politics, Literature, Art and Science 6 (July 1847).

  Godey’s Magazine and Lady’s Book. July 1847.

  W. E. Cramer. Daily Wisconsin. July 1, 1847. Quoted in Log I: 249.

  Polynesian. March 18, 1848. Quoted in Aaron, 407.

  Friend. April 1, 1850. Quoted in Aaron, 408.

  John Bryant. Ishmail. January 31, 1997. Quoted in Bercaw Edwards, 32.

  Roper, Gordon. Historical Note. Omoo. Eds. Harrison Hayford, Hershel Parker, and G. Thomas Tanselle. Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1968.

  Russell, Michael. Polynesia. New York: Harper, 1843.

  Samson, John. “Profaning the Sacred: Melville’s Omoo and Missionary Narratives.” American Literature 56 (December 1984): 496–509.

  Scorsese, Martin. No Direction Home: Bob Dylan. Feature-length film biography. Production of Spitfire Pictures, Grey Water Park Productions, Thirteen/WNET New York, and Sikelia Productions, in coproduction with Vulcan Productions, BBC, and NHK, 2005.

  Sedgwick, William Ellery. Herman Melville: The Tragedy of n Mind. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1944.

  Steinbeck, John. Cannery Row. New York: Viking, 1945.

  Sten, Christopher. The Weaver-God, He Weaves: Melville and the Poetics of the Novel. Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press, 1996.

  Stetson, John. Certificate. Lahaina. June 2, 1843. New Bedford Whaling Museum, New Bedford, Mass.

  Stewart, Charles S. A Visit to the South Seas, in the U.S. Ship Vincennes, During the Years 1829 and 1830. New York: John P. Haven, 1831.

  Weaver, Raymond M. Herman Melville: Mariner and Mystic. New York: George H. Doran, 1921.

  Wilkes, Charles. Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition. Philadelphia: Sherman, 1844.

  Omoo

  PREFACE

  Nowhere, perhaps, are the proverbial characteristics of sailors shown under wilder aspects, than in the South Seas. For the most part, the vessels navigating those remote waters, are engaged in the Sperm Whale Fishery;1 a business, which is not only peculiarly fitted to attract the most reckless seamen of all nations, but in various ways, is calculated to foster in them a spirit of the utmost license. These voyages, also, are unusually long and perilous; the only harbors accessible are among the barbarous or semi-civilized islands of Polynesia, or along the lawless western coast of South America. Hence, scenes the most novel, and not directly connected with the business of whaling, frequently occur among the crews of ships in the Pacific.

  Without pretending to give any account of the whale-fishery (for the scope of the narrative does not embrace the subject), it is, partly, the object of this work to convey some idea of the kind of life to which allusion is made, by means of a circumstantial history of adventures befalling the author.

  Another object proposed, is to give a familiar account of the present condition of the converted Polynesians, as affected by their promiscuous intercourse with foreigners, and the teachings of the missionaries, combined.

  As a roving sailor, the author spent about three months in various parts of the islands of Tahiti and Imeeo,2 and under circumstances most favorable for correct observations on the social condition of the natives.

  In every statement connected with missionary operations, a strict adherence to facts has, of course, been scrupulously observed; and in some instances, it has even been deemed advisable to quote previous voyagers, in corroboration of what is offered as the fruit of the author’s own observations. Nothing but an earnest desire for truth and good has led him to touch upon this subject at all. And if he refrains from offering hints as to the best mode of remedying the evils which are pointed out, it is only because he thinks, that after being made acquainted with the facts, others are better qualified to do so.

  Should a little jocoseness be shown upon some curious traits of the Tahitians, it proceeds from no intention to ridicule: things are merely described as, from their entire novelty, they first struck an unbiased observer.

  The present narrative necessarily begins where “Typee”3 concludes, but has no further connection with the latter work. All, therefore, necessary for the reader to understand, who has not read “Typee,” is given in a brief introduction.

  No journal was kept by the author during his wanderings in the South Seas; so that, in preparing the ensuing chapters for the press, precision with respect to dates would have been impossible; and every occurrence has been put down from simple recollection. The frequency, however, with which these incidents have been verbally related, has tended to stamp them upon the memory.

  Although it is believed that one or two imperfect Polynesian vocabularies have been published, none of the Tahitian dialect4 has yet appeared. At any rate, the author has had access to none whatever. In the use of the native words, therefore, he has been mostly governed by the bare recollection of sounds.

  Upon several points connected with the history and ancient customs of Tahiti, collateral information has been obtained from the oldest books of South Sea voyages, and also from the “Polynesian Researches” of Ellis.5

  The title of the work—Omoo—is borrowed from the dialect of the Marquesas Islands, where, among other uses, the word signifies a rover, or rather, a person wandering from one island to another, like some of the natives, known among their countrymen as “Taboo kannakers.”6

  In no respect does the author make pretensions to philosophic research. In a familiar way, he has merely described what he has seen; and if reflections are occasionally indulged in, they are spontaneous, and such as would, very probably, suggest themselves to the most casual observer.

  INTRODUCTION

  In the summer of 1842, the author of this narrative, as a sailor before the mast, visited the Marquesas Islands1 in an American South Seaman. At the island of Nukuheva2 he left his vessel, which afterward sailed without him. Wandering in the interior, he came upon the valley of Typee, inhabited by a primitive tribe of savages, from which valley a fellow-sailor who accompanied him soon afterward effected his escape. The author, however, was detained in an indulgent captivity for about the space of four months; at the end of which period, he escaped in a boat which visited the bay.

  This boat belonged to a vessel in need of men, which had recently touched at a neighboring harbor of the same island, where the captain had been informed of the author’s detention in Typee. Desirous of adding to his crew, he sailed round thither, and “hove to”3 off the mouth of the bay. As the Typees were considered hostile, the boat, manned by “Taboo”4 natives from the other harbor, was then sent in, with an interpreter at their head, to procure the author’s release. This was finally accomplished, though not without peril to all concerned. At the time of his escape, the author was suffering severely from lameness.

  The boat having gained the open sea, the ship appeared in the distance. Here the present narrative opens.

  CHAPTER 1

  MY RECEPTION ABOARD

  It was in the middle of a bright tropical afternoon that we made good our escape from the bay. The vessel we sought lay with her main-topsail aback1 about a league2 from the land, and was the only object that broke the broad expanse of the ocean.

  On approaching, she turned out to be a small, slatternly looking craft, her hull and spars a dingy black, rigging all slack and bleached nearly white, and every thing denoting an ill state of affairs aboard. The four boats hanging from her sides proclaimed her a whaler. Leaning carelessly over the bulwarks3 were the sailors, wild, haggard-looking fellows in Scotch caps4 and faded blue frocks; some of them with cheeks of a mottled bronze, to which sickness soon changes the rich berry-brown of a seaman’s complexion in the tropics.

  On the quarter-deck was one whom I took for the chief mate. He wore a broad-brimmed Panama hat, and his spy-glass was leveled as we advanced.

  When we came alongside, a low cry ran fore and aft the deck, and every body gazed at us with inquiring eyes. And well they might. To say nothing of the savage boat’s crew, panting with excitement, all gesture and vociferation, my own appearance was calculated to excite curiosity. A robe of the native cloth was thrown over my shoulders, my hair and beard were uncut, and I betrayed other evidences of my recent adventure. Immediately on gaining the deck, they beset me on all sides with questions, the half of which I could not answer, so incessantly were they put.

  As an instance of the curious coincidences which often befall the sailor, I must here mention, that two countenances before me were familiar. One was that of an old man-of-war’s-man,5 whose acquaintance I had made in Rio de Janeiro, at which place touched the ship in which I sailed from home. The other was a young man, whom, four years previous, I had frequently met in a sailor boarding-house in Liverpool. I remembered parting with him at Prince’s Dock Gates,6 in the midst of a swarm of police-officers, truckmen, stevedores,7 beggars, and the like. And here we were again:—years had rolled by, many a league of ocean had been traversed, and we were thrown together under circumstances which almost made me doubt my own existence.

  But a few moments passed ere I was sent for into the cabin by the captain.

  He was quite a young man, pale and slender, more like a sickly counting-house clerk than a bluff sea-captain. Bidding me be seated, he ordered the steward to hand me a glass of Pisco.* In the state I was, this stimulus almost made me delirious; so that of all I then went on to relate concerning my residence on the island I can scarcely remember a word. After this I was asked whether I desired to “ship;” of course I said yes; that is, if he would allow me to enter for one cruise, engaging to discharge me, if I so desired, at the next port. In this way men are frequently shipped on board whalemen in the South Seas. My stipulation was acceded to, and the ship’s articles handed me to sign.

  The mate8 was now called below, and charged to make a “well man” of me; not, let it be borne in mind, that the captain felt any great compassion for me, he only desired to have the benefit of my services as soon as possible.

  Helping me on deck, the mate stretched me out on the windlass9 and commenced examining my limb; and then doctoring it after a fashion with something from the medicine-chest, rolled it up in a piece of an old sail, making so big a bundle, that with my feet resting on the windlass, I might have been taken for a sailor with the gout. While this was going on, some one removing my tappa10 cloak slipped on a blue frock in its place; and another, actuated by the same desire to make a civilized mortal of me, flourished about my head a great pair of sheep-shears, to the imminent jeopardy of both ears, and the certain destruction of hair and beard.