Typee

I sprang upon my feet and rushed towards Karakoee. The rash attempt nearly decided my fate; for, fearful that I might slip from them, several of the islanders now raised a simultaneous shout, and pressing upon Karakoee, they menaced him with furious gestures.

Desertion, mountain flight, Typee captivity, Toby's loss, and boat escape form a clear adventure arc under ethnographic digression, so plot scores 83.

Fayaway, who was my peculiar favourite. Her free pliant figure was the very perfection of female grace and beauty. Her complexion was a rich and mantling olive, and when watching the glow upon her cheeks I could almost swear that beneath the transparent medium there lurked the faintest tinge of carnation.

Tommo, Toby, Fayaway, and Mow-Mow work as vivid encounter-types more than deep psychological portraits, so cast scores 82.

Fortunately the spot was better adapted to our purpose than the one in which we had passed the last wretched night. We cleared away the tall reeds from the small but almost level bit of ground, and twisted them into a low basket-like hut, which we covered with a profusion of long thick leaves.

Short chapters alternate chase, valley idyll, and digression; the escape chapter restores urgency after a languid ethnographic middle, so pace scores 85.

Six months at sea! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of land; cruising after the sperm-whale beneath the scorching sun of the Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific--the sky above, the sea around, and nothing else!

Oceanic opening and Fayaway description show early Melville already vivid, rhythmic, and mock-oratorical, so prose scores 89.

On the other side of Happar, and closely adjoining it, is the magnificent valley of the dreaded Typees, the unappeasable enemies of both these tribes. These celebrated warriors appear to inspire the other islanders with unutterable dread.

Nukuheva, Happar, and Typee valley render Marquesan taboo, breadfruit, and feared hospitality as a complete island world, so world scores 93.

Six months at sea! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of land; cruising after the sperm-whale beneath the scorching sun of the Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific--the sky above, the sea around, and nothing else!

Immediate oceanic deprivation under the Line sun hooks before Marquesas promise and cannibal threat, so hook scores 90.

In a primitive state of society, the enjoyments of life, though few and simple, are spread over a great extent, and are unalloyed; but Civilization, for every advantage she imparts, holds a hundred evils in reserve;--the heart-burnings, the jealousies, the social rivalries, the family dissentions.

Travel-romance that unsettles civilization/savage binaries while selling cannibal suspense is proto-anthropological adventure for American readers, so innov scores 88.

Still the chances seemed in our favour, but when we came within a hundred yards of the headland, the natives made a simultaneous rush into the sea, and swam off from the headland and intercept us in our course. The wind was freshening every minute, and was right in our teeth.

Boat deliverance amid hostile swimmers closes the captivity plot; the Toby sequel note softens without deepening the climax, so ending scores 84.