CHAPTER XIV.

Pitt’s Island.—Knox and Charlotte’s Islands.—Base Conduct.— Thieving.—Jack and Manuel.—Almost a “dead Nigger.”—Bark “Belle.”— Ship “Boy.”—Wreck of the “Flying Fox.”—Plundered by the Natives.— Hall’s Island.—Desertion.—My Man Friday.—A wet Berth again.—Ship “Hector.”—Anxiety for Letters.—A Canoe in distress.— A heart-rending Sight.—Gratitude of the Natives.—Pleasant Island.—Its Natives.—Murder of white Men.—Brig “Inga.”—Thieves again.—Search-warrant issued.—Property found, Culprit tried and punished.—A heavy Squall.—Strong’s Island.

We were now getting down to the more westward of the group, and on Sunday, the 25th, saw Pitt’s Island. This is one of the finest-looking islands of the whole group; the land being higher, with more verdure. The next day we saw Knox’s Island. The natives of this and Charlotte’s Island are now at war, instigated, we are sorry to learn, by the base conduct of an American whaling captain, who has taken sides with one party, and who takes great pleasure in slaughtering those of the other side.

Whenever the boats are off after whales, a certain number of the ship’s company remain on board to work the ship, who are called “ship-keepers.” One of these ship-keepers was “Nigger Jack,” whom, the reader will recollect, we shipped at Payta. It appears he was in the habit, at these times, of going down into the forecastle, and pilfering whatever he saw that would strike his fancy. He also was troubled very much with a sweet tooth, and would help himself to the other men’s allowance of molasses, not touching his own. This kind of work went on for some time, and, as the men could prove nothing, they kept quiet and waited, Micawber-like, for something to “turn up.” The opportunity soon came. The boats were all off after whales, and our Spanish darkey was, as usual, spending his time below, when one of the other ship-keepers, going into the forecastle, caught him in the very act of helping himself to molasses from the allowance of Portugee Manuel. He said nothing to him, however, but waited until the men returned for the opportunity of “opening the ball.” It so happened that, on this occasion, the men were down all day, from 7 A.M. to 8 P.M., with little or no food, and came on board, without having fastened, nearly exhausted with pulling, hungry as bears, and in none of the best of humors. Supper was sent down, and Manuel went to his keg to get some molasses for his “duff,” but, to his surprise, found it empty! His Gee blood was up in an instant, and he sang out, “What man been takey my molass?” Some one replied, “Nigger Jack;” and, before the darkey could contradict it, the heavy molasses keg struck him, bim! full in the face. The blood flew on all sides, and he ran for the deck, and, fully believing that he was about to “kick the bucket,” commenced chanting the Paternoster, occasionally interspersing it with exclamations of “Muerto! muerto!” signifying “Killed! killed!” in a most pitiful tone. But he was suddenly interrupted by an order from aft to present himself. He crawled off, and, after a long time, succeeded in making the captain understand what the difficulty was. Manuel was now sent for, who sputtered out his side of the story, in half English and half Portugee, to the no small amusement of the captain and officers, and appeals to the person who saw the theft committed. The old man reprimanded Manuel for throwing molasses kegs, and told the Spaniard that if the men caught him stealing again, they would, in all probability, kill him outright, and sent him off about his business. There is nothing so much despised on board ship as these petty thefts, and he who commits them generally leads a hard life.

We here saw the bark “Belle,” of Fairhaven, Captain Handy. This vessel was engaged in trading at the different islands for cocoanut oil, which was sold in Sydney, New South Wales.

On Thursday, September 26th, we picked up part of a ship’s topmast, and, on sighting Sydenham’s Island, discovered the hull of a vessel fast ashore on the reef, with her lower masts standing. Our captain intended to take a boat and ascertain something in regard to this ill-fated vessel, but the wind died away before we approached within a proper distance, and the current soon drifted us far away.

The next day we spoke the “Boy,” of Warren, Captain Luce. From him we ascertained the vessel ashore at Sydenham’s to be the bark “Flying Fox,” of Hobarton, Van Diemen’s Land, Captain Brown, who, with his lady, and several of the officers and crew, were on board the “Boy.” It appears, by the captain’s statement, that on the morning of the 25th they were sailing along with a fine breeze, all sail set, when they were suddenly startled by the ship striking a reef which projected two or three miles from the island, and was not laid down on the charts. The topmasts were all carried away by the shock; the ship was fast on the reef; and, had there been a heavy swell, she would have gone to pieces immediately. As all hopes of saving the ship were at an end, on seeing their situation they took to their boats as soon as possible. Already were the decks crowded with natives, who had begun the work of plunder, helping themselves to whatever they wished. They obtained possession of the spades, and were ready and willing to fight, if necessary. The captain had to work very cautiously to get his wife into the boat without being seen by the natives; and, closely veiled, she was placed in the boat, choosing the mercy of the winds and waves rather than that of a barbarous set of cannibals, in whose hands she would have suffered worse than death.

The next day, the boat containing the captain and lady, with some of the crew, were picked up by the “Boy.” The remainder of the crew, it was supposed, had gone to Woodle’s or Simpson’s Island. The captain of the “Boy,” on learning the particulars of the sad accident, proceeded immediately to the wreck; but the natives had not been idle; they had carried off every thing of value, and that which they valued not had been destroyed by them. The water and oil casks had been stove for the sake of the iron hoops which bound them.

On Thursday, October 3d, we traded with the natives of Hall’s Island. Cocoanut oil is the principal trade brought off here. The natives on the islands north of the equator look much better than those of the same group situated south of it.

We were now getting short of water, and the captain determined to land a raft of casks at Pitt’s Island, leave them for the natives to fill, and return for them in a few days. Accordingly, on the 16th, we sent a raft ashore, three boats towing it. We had now been out of port nearly seven months, and most of the crew were becoming discontented—thought it was about time they had a run ashore, etc.; and some of them expressed the determination to have it, if the opportunity offered, at Pitt’s Island. The officers having charge of the boats were ordered not to land, but to deliver the raft to the natives and return immediately to the ship. The third mate, however, who was one of the disaffected, instead of doing this, pulled close in shore, and told his men, if they wished, they could go; he should not hinder them. Two of them immediately jumped out of the boat and went ashore; the boats returned to the ship; and the captain and third mate had some rather plain conversation in regard to the affair. It ended, however, in the old man’s leaving a reward for them, and we made sail.

We took from this island a noble-looking, fine-built native, who is a chief of some importance; but he wished to try his hand at whaling, as near as we could understand by his signs, for he could speak but little English. The captain bestowed upon him the name of Friday, which suited him just as well as any other. He soon became a general favorite with all hands, was very good-natured, quick to learn, as spry as a cat, and as strong as a giant.

We visited the island again on Tuesday, the 22d, for our raft of water. We there learned that the two deserters had sailed in the bark “Belle,” for Sydney, the day previous.

An amusing little incident, common to whaling, but still enough of interest to make it worth relating, occurred on Saturday, 16th of November. The waist-boat had fastened to a cow whale, and were going along very smoothly, when she suddenly sounded, and, by some means, drew the bow of the boat down with her sufficient to “end it over,” and spill out the whole crew very unexpectedly. It happened that two of the men were unable to swim, and, strange as it may appear, they were the first to scramble on to the bottom of the boat (which was upset), and that without _wetting a hair of their head_; and so anxious were they to _keep dry_, that they kept the boat rolling over and over, they meanwhile scrambling in the most ludicrous manner. After a little time, and partly by the threats of the second mate and their own fears, they became quiet, and remained so until they were picked up. The whale was killed by one of the other boats, and was soon cut in and tried out.

Monday, November 18th, was a very clear and calm day, not a breath of air stirring, and “old Jamaica” coming down with a vengeance. At daylight the look-out from masthead raised a sail a long distance off. About 1 P.M., “Boat ho!” was the cry, and it proved to be a boat pulling to us from the ship in the distance. About 3 they came alongside, and reported themselves to be from the ship “Hector,” of New Bedford, Captain Smith. They had pulled about sixteen miles, under the scorching sun of the equator, with not a breath of air stirring, merely to ascertain if we had letters for them. They were about three years out, and had heard that we were on the cruising-ground, and on raising us that morning hoped it might prove to be the “Emily Morgan;” and such was their anxiety for letters from their friends at home that they gladly pulled this long distance. We were glad that their labor met with its reward, for they received a large package, and soon forgot their fatigue amid the excitement incident to receiving news after so long an absence. About 5 P.M. a light breeze sprung up, and they left us in high spirits.

As we were cruising along on Wednesday, November 19th, with no land in sight, we saw a large canoe, which appeared at the mercy of winds and waves. We immediately bore down to it, and found that it contained twenty-two natives in a starving condition. We lowered a boat, towed them to the ship, and found them so much reduced as to be hardly able to speak, and could get them in on deck only by slinging them in a “boatswain’s chair” and hoisting them in. The canoe was cut adrift after taking out and sinking the dead body of a boy, apparently about fourteen, which it contained. Some of them presented a wretched and distressing appearance; they were nothing but skin and bones, and scarcely that. In several cases the skin on the joints was broken, and the bones had worked through. We went to work and cleared out the “blubber-room,” and by spreading mats around made it very comfortable for them. Their constant cry was “Ki ki” (eat). We prepared some farina, and fed them cautiously; but they acted more like a pack of ravenous wolves than like human beings. By the aid of Friday, our Pitt’s Island native, we learned the following particulars: They left their island (Charlotte’s) for another on account of the war raging there, but lost their reckoning, and the current, which sets very strongly to the northwest, swept them off. They had been so drifting for six weeks, and during that time had no food except a shark, which they captured. Four of their number had died, two men and two children. Seven of them were females, two of whom had nursing infants. The poor creatures would fall into a short slumber, and awake crying for food. It was truly a heart-rending sight, but we felt assured every thing that could be had been done to render them comfortable. They endeavored, too, to express their heartfelt gratitude to us by signs, and would cry, “Mortarkee kiabuka” (good ship). As we were near Pleasant Island, the captain determined to land them there.

Accordingly, we sighted it on the morning of Friday, the 21st. About 9 A.M. canoes began to flock off to us in great numbers, and the natives whom we had picked up were sent ashore in them. They had so far regained their strength as to be able to move about quite briskly. The chief addressed the captain in his own language, which was translated by Friday as far as lay in his power, to the effect that they were very grateful to the captain and all hands for the kind treatment they had received; and as the poor grateful beings shook hands with us on passing over the gangway, tears of gratitude trickled down their tawny cheeks. They were placed in the canoes, waved their hands feebly, and started for the shore.

Pleasant Island is a very beautiful island, and well does it deserve its name, if we say nothing of its inhabitants. It is moderately high, and more thickly covered with verdure than any island of the group. The natives are the most finely-built of any we have yet seen—large, athletic, and ferocious-appearing, presenting quite a contrast to some of the diminutive natives of the Windward Islands. They speak a different language, also, from that of the natives of the other islands, though but a few degrees apart. They appear far superior to them in shrewdness and cunning, it being much harder to drive a trade with them. The females are very small, very good-looking, and some of them quite handsome, several shades lighter than the men, and much lighter than those of the other islands. We bought quite a number of fowl, and some hogs of the regular _racer_ breed, Berkshires not having been introduced here.

A white man came off from this island, and wished the captain to ship him, as he was afraid to remain on shore. He reported that, the day before, five white men had been murdered by the natives. A part of them were from the ill-fated “Flying Fox.” It appears that they had landed at this island perfectly destitute, and some of the white men residing there, fearing the chiefs would take them under their protection and allow them to remain, thereby diminishing their chances of trade with ships, persuaded the leading chiefs that they came there for the purpose of taking the island and poisoning all the Kanakas. They are so superstitions that, no matter how absurd the story, they believe the white man capable of doing any thing. At the instigation of these rascally “beach-combers” residing on the island, the poor fellows were butchered in a manner too horrible to relate. This man informed us that his life had been repeatedly threatened, and, had not he had the influence of one of the highest chiefs on the island, he would have shared the same horrid fate as the others. The captain informed him he could go with us, at which he was greatly rejoiced.

We spoke the brig “Inga,” of New Bedford, Captain Barnes, on Sunday, the 24th. We had here an opportunity of sending letters home _via_ Sydney, New South Wales, as she was bound there with a cargo of cocoanut oil. Captain B. reported that, a few days previous, his steward and seven of his crew took a boat in the night-time and deserted. The steward stole about three hundred dollars from the captain’s state-room, a sextant, quadrant, and charts; the crew took provisions and water. He supposed they had gone to some of the Windward Islands.

Our “Spanish Jack” has got himself in trouble again. For several weeks complaints had been made by nearly all of the crew that their tobacco was disappearing very fast and very mysteriously. From the fact that Jack never bought any, had but little when he came on board, and was continually smoking, he was strongly suspected. One fine morning the captain ordered the mate to go forward and search the Spaniard’s chest. Accordingly, the chest was hauled out and opened. It was well filled with clothing, all new, that he had bought and never worn, which he was keeping, he said, to wear ashore. On looking _deeper_, several knives were found, which were claimed by some of the crew, and various small articles, which he had pilfered at different times from different persons. Finally, the mate found a large quantity of tobacco, and a tin box belonging to the captain’s son, which he had taken from the binnacle while at the helm. The guilty Spaniard was brought aft, seized by his wrists to the mizzen rigging, his back bared, and a slight dose of “hemp tea” administered, said to be a very excellent remedy for the disease which troubled Jack so much, viz., sticky fingers. He called on all the saints in the calendar to come to his assistance, but they very politely refused, as it is believed they did not _strongly_ object to the medicine being administered. It had one good effect, to say the least; it made him _promise_ that he would never steal again while on board the ship, no matter how small the value of the article. And, in justice to him, we will say that he kept his promise, not from want of a _desire_ to steal, but from _fear of punishment_.

The idea of flogging a human being is certainly shocking, and the poor fellow who receives it generally has the pity and sympathies of his shipmates; but in this case all hands felt that the culprit got no more than his deserts, for the true sailor _despises_ a thief. The sailor is proverbially charitable; he will see a shipmate want for nothing so long as he can supply that want, even to dividing his last crust; and it is not given grudgingly, but with his whole heart.

We were now making the passage to Strong’s Island, and, on the night of Friday, December 6th, were struck with a severe squall, laying the ship almost on her beam ends. All hands were called to take in sail, but, before the men could get on deck, away went mainsail, foretopsail, and jib. Whew! how the wind whistled and howled! It was impossible for the captain to make himself understood amid the deafening roar of the winds; and the waves, madly pitching and tossing the ship to and fro, seemed to wish to ingulf her in their bosom. It was grand, yet terrible. By dint of hard labor we succeeded finally in reducing the sail, so that she rode easy through the night, the gale continuing with almost unabated fury. The next day a tremendous whirlwind passed astern of us about a mile, and it was through the mercy of GOD alone that we escaped it. The gale continued, with more or less rain, until Wednesday, December 11th, when Strong’s Island hove in sight, distant about eighty miles.