As for the priests themselves, they were no better than diabolical sorcerers; like those who, in old times, terrified their fathers.
Close by the chapel was a range of native houses; rented from a chief, and handsomely furnished.

Here lived the priests; and very comfortably, too.

They looked sanctimonious enough abroad; but that went for nothing; since, at home, in their retreat, they were a club of Friar Tucks; holding priestly wassail over many a good cup of red brandy, and rising late in the morning.
Pity it was they couldn't marry--pity for the ladies of the island, I mean, and the cause of morality; for what business had the ecclesiastical old bachelors with such a set of trim little native handmaidens?
These damsels were their first converts; and devoted ones they were.
The priests, as I have said before, were accounted necromancers: the appearance of two of our three visitors might have justified the conceit.
They were little, dried-up Frenchmen, in long, straight gowns of black cloth, and unsightly three-cornered hats--so preposterously big that, in putting them on, the reverend fathers seemed to extinguish themselves.
Their companion was dressed differently.

He wore a sort of yellow, flannel morning gown, and a broad-brimmed Manilla hat.

Large and portly, he was also hale and fifty; with a complexion like an autumnal leaf--handsome blue eyes--fine teeth, and a racy Milesian brogue.