ABSTRACT
Whatever disillusion familiarity may bring, Pape-ete, the port of arrival, never quite loses its prestige with the traveller as the place where Tahiti first broke upon him. Nothing seemed more unlikely. The ocean is so big and vague; an island is so small and definite. It was as if the captain were a conjurer and had pulled it out of his pocket. It was cold and grey out there; the sea was rough and the deck was wet; then suddenly—Tahiti! … One can fancy the look of stupid surprise on the face of the god with the fishing-rod.
