CHAPTER XVI.

“A happy New-year to all.”—Rather poor Luck.—Pitt’s Island again.—Description.—Natives.—King.—Religious Belief.—Funeral Ceremonies.—“Jentsh.”—Houses.—Costume.—Food.—Language.—Weapons of War.—Mode of Warfare.—Return to Strong’s Island.—Improvements.— Singing-school.—The Royal Family to Dinner.—Canker’s Guilt.— Poisoned Carva.—Return to our “Hotel.”—Our Suspicions strengthened.—“Stop Thief!”—Gas.—New Zealand Dance.—Grand Feast.—Tall Dancing.—“Cheers” by the Audience.—“Go it, Cæsar!”—Grand Boat-race.—The Boasters beaten.—Another great Feast.—Ball Alley.—Narrow Escape of the Ship.—Departure for Guam.

How different the “New-year” at sea from that at home, were our thoughts this “New-year’s morning” on first awakening. But we wished all on board a “happy New-year,” and then the good folks at home came in for a share of our prayers, and we could not but think that, while they were enjoying the choicest viands, our “New-year’s dinner” must consist of hard bread and salt junk, with a “plum duff” for dessert.

We were again bound for the Group, to try our luck for whales. And we had our “luck,” for we only saw them twice during the whole cruise of three months, and they were then going “eyes out” to windward. We did not even “grease an iron” that cruise.

By this time our man Friday had become somewhat civilized, and was able to speak pretty good English. After trading at the island one day, we managed to gain some very interesting accounts from him in regard to it and its inhabitants. It lies in latitude 3° 02´ N., longitude 172° 46´ E., the northernmost island of the King Mill Group. The natives are very friendly, and have not yet learned the knavery of the other islands. The chief in command is called king, and is assisted by a number of chiefs. The king is allowed as many wives as he chooses, but the chiefs and natives but one. They have no religion, yet they are very superstitious. They believe in ghosts, and that the spirits of the dead visit them. Their evil spirits they call “jentsh,” and they hold that when they do any thing wrong the “jentsh” haunt them; and if they are afflicted in any manner, either by sickness or otherwise, it is punishment imposed upon them by the evil spirits, who are sent to torment them. Friday declared to us that he had often seen and conversed with these spirits, and upon being contradicted he flew off; and said, “S’pose me pool? s’pose me no got eye? me no all same Strong’s Island Kanaka pool; me saba plenty.”

If a native dies, they roll the body in a mat, and the relatives sit around the corpse and wail and mourn until the body is in a state of putrefaction. They never leave their places, their food being brought to them. The climate is so warm that it does not require much time for the body to decay. When it reaches this state, it is sewed up strongly in the mat, and buried, if a male, with his war-club and spear, to protect him in the spirit world; but if a female, nothing is buried with it, as they believe the females need no war-like instruments to protect them from danger. Like the inhabitants of Strong’s Island, they believe that if the person who dies is good, he goes “up there;” but if he was bad, he remains in the ground, and is forever tormented by the “jentsh.”

Their houses are built of bamboo; are large and roomy, some of them having two or three lofts or stories, and are kept very clean and neat. The natives are very cleanly, but very few of the men wear any clothing. The females wear a tappa, about two feet in width, about the loins. They subsist principally on cocoanuts, a species of bread-fruit called jack-fruit, tarra, wild fowl, and fish. The king is a large, corpulent native, apparently about forty-five years of age, and is called “King George,” which appears to be the name of every “king” we have yet heard of in this part of the world. The lingo (for we suppose it can not properly be called a language) in the various islands of the group is nearly the same, so much so that natives from the various islands can understand each other.

Their weapons of warfare are principally spears, though war-clubs are sometimes used. The spears are made from cocoanut wood, and are very long, and pointed at both ends. They handle them with a great deal of skill, and will throw one from forty to fifty feet with remarkable precision. Their mode of battle is very singular. Both parties approach each other, and, when within proper distance, throw their spears and then run. If one party get the advantage, and throw their spears first, and any take effect in the opposite ranks, those that have received the spears make great haste to get out of the way. These battles seldom last long, though a great deal of time is spent in manœuvring, and great preparations are made, but the contest is soon decided.

We had now cruised three months without getting a drop of oil, and the “old man” concluded to try his luck on Japan. Wanting wood and water, however, more than we had on board, for a long cruise, we steered for Strong’s Island again, and on Saturday, March 29th, we sighted it. The next day we entered the harbor, and at 11 A.M. we came to an anchor. To our great surprise, we found the bark “Mary Frazier” still in port, she having been “windbound” for three months. We also found the bark “Maria Laura,” of Hobarton, Captain Mansfield, in port. On going ashore, we found that many improvements had been made by Captain H. He had built three nice large houses. The king, too, had caught the spirit, and built himself a new house; and, in fact, a general spirit of improvement and go-aheadativeness seemed to have taken possession of all.

In the evening of the day on which we arrived, we had the opportunity of attending a singing-school, which the king had authorized to be instituted for the purpose of teaching the children the native songs of the island. As a matter of course, we could understand nothing that was sung, but we were pleased with their voices, which were very sweet, and they appeared to keep excellent time by clapping their hands.

The next day, Monday, the king, in his court dress, with all the royal family excepting Canker, came off to dinner to the ship. Canker evidently felt his guilt, as he appeared to keep out of the way of any of the ship’s company. We had no doubt, when Mr. Smith was first taken, that he had been poisoned, and circumstances pointed strongly to Canker as the guilty person. It appears that our chief mate, with Mr. S. and Canker, had been gunning, and, on returning, the mate and Mr. S. commenced bantering with Canker in sport. However, he did not take it in that manner, but appeared quite offended. On arriving at his house he seemed to have regained his good-will, and invited them to drink some carva with him. They of course accepted, and it was accordingly ordered, and brought in two large shells. The mate noticed this, and asked Canker why he did not drink with them. He replied, “Never mind; me no drink; me too much sick.” This was something so unusual, as the general practice among them is for the chief to drink first, that the mate refused unless Canker would drink, suspecting all was not right. Canker refused even to taste it, and exclaimed, in high dudgeon, “You think carva been poison? Strong’s Island no got poison.” Mr. S. laughed at the fears of the mate, and drank off his carva and in a few moments drank that which had been prepared for the mate. Two days from that time poor Smith was taken ill, as we have related, and soon died, leaving no doubt in the minds of all on board that he had been poisoned by this unscrupulous Canker.

His wife having died since we left the island, on our return we found all the chiefs living on his place. They feast every day. We called on our old friend Zegrah, who seemed very much pleased to see us, gave us a hearty welcome, and accompanied us to our “hotel,” where we regaled ourselves on fruit, fresh fish, etc. Upon mentioning the circumstances of the death of Mr. S. to him, he remarked, “Canker _bloody rascal_!”

The next day, Tuesday, April 1st, we called upon Canker. We found him remarkably sociable, and his first question was, “Where Mr. Smith?” We told him he was dead; whereat he raised his hands with horror, and exclaimed, “How long ship sail, he die?” We told him “three days,” when he replied that he was very sorry, as Mr.S. was a good man. Now the scamp had been made acquainted with all these particulars before. We asked him if he had not heard of his death, and he replied “no,” but we knew he lied. After some farther conversation, he asked us, “What make Mr. S. die?” We told him plainly that he was poisoned, but said nothing of our suspicions as to the guilty person. He immediately commenced denying that he had poisoned him, and said, “Strong’s Island no got poison.” As no one had hinted or charged him with doing it, we regarded his denials as very suspicious. After remaining in deep thought, apparently, for some time, he again asked, “How long he been make sick, he die?” meaning, how long after he was taken sick before he died. We thought this suspicious also, as we had but just informed him that he died three days after the ship sailed, and we determined to try him on another tack, and see what he was driving at. We replied to him, therefore, “One week.” His countenance immediately brightened, as though a happy thought had suggested itself, and he said, “S’pose me make poison carva he drink, he no live _one_ day, he die too quick.” We asked him how he made poison carva. He replied that he put in the juice of a certain plant. We reminded him that he had said but a few moments before that “Strong’s Island no got poison.” This seemed to completely stagger him, and he appeared lost in deep study. We now left, well convinced that his highness, Mr. Canker, was a consummate villain, and that he had poisoned Mr. S.

Our fourth mate, Mr. F., concluded to try his luck gunning one pleasant day on the large island. After climbing stone walls, rambling over mountains, and wading marshes, he thought, as game was scarce, he would take a short nap. He was hardly asleep before he felt some one about his person, and sprang to his feet just in time to see a Kanaka running off with his sheath-knife in his hand. He instantly raised his gun and fired at the black rascal, but his shot did not take effect; so the native only ran the faster, and got clear with the knife.

The crew of the “Mary Frazier” were a disagreeable set of men, always boasting and quarreling among themselves and with their officers. Quite a number of the different ships’ companies were on shore one evening, rolling in the ball-alley, which had been built by Captain H., and a disturbance occurred between the mate of the “M. F.” and one of her crew. The man, who was a large, two-fisted fellow, was blustering about, threatening to knock the mate “into the middle of next week;” but, as he was taken no notice of by any one, after suffering the superabundant flow of _gas_ to escape, sneaked off, leaving the others to enjoy their exercise.

On the evening of Thursday, April 3d, we attended a dance at the king’s house, given by some New Zealand natives. Their faces and bodies are tattooed in a very singular manner, and look truly frightful. Their gestures are fierce, songs wild, and their dancing is little more than keeping time by changing their position.

On Monday, April 7th, we attended a grand feast given by the king. All the chief’s on the island were present. Every thing was served up in the highest style of “Strong’s Island fashion,” and the white men from all three ships were heartily invited to partake, which they did of every thing except “dog.” After the feast was over the “plate” was cleared away, and room made for a grand dance, which was led off by the king and followed by the chief’s, the women singing, and keeping time by clapping their hands and beating an instrument resembling a tambourine. The old king flew around quite lively, and each one appeared to do his utmost to excel. At the close of each dance the white portion of the audience would _cheer_ the performers in the most approved style, which seemed to please them greatly. The natives appeared much amused, whether at the dancing or cheering we could not say, but probably a little of both, as they showed a broad grin all the time. Old Cæsar tried very hard to see how high he could kick his heels, and, at the same time, keep his balance, but a misstep brought his foot down on a piece of banana-skin, and his heels flew up, and down he came with a crash that seemed as if he had gone through the floor. Upon seeing this, the king and all the dancers stopped to have a hearty laugh, the white men shouted and cheered, the natives grinned, and the house was “brought down” completely. But Cæsar was not to be frightened in that way, and he got up and went at it again with redoubled energy. After dancing some two or three hours, “all hands” took a shell of carva and separated.

The crew of the “Mary Frazier” had been _bragging_ and _boasting_, since we had been in port, that they had better boats, and could pull faster than either of the other ships’ boats. Knowing what braggadocios they were, our men took no notice of them, nor did the crew of the English bark for some time, until finally they challenged the Englishmen to a race, and the challenge was accepted. The flag-boats were stationed one mile apart, and the boat that pulled around these stationary ones three times and came out ahead was to win the race, making a pull of six miles. The crew of the “M. F.’s” boat were down quite early in the morning on the day of the race, six large brawny fellows, stripped to the skin, and “eager for the fray.” About 9 A.M. the Englishmen lowered their boat, the same number of men composing her crew, but with a far different appearance, being perfectly cool, and making no boasting display. Our boys, thinking they might as well be “counted in,” though not thinking of winning, five of them, with the second mate, jumped into the waist-boat, and “struck out” for the starting-place. The boats were now ranged alongside, the signal was given, and away they flew like arrows from the bow. The “Mary’s” boat soon left the others behind, our “plug” being distanced by both. Each crew bent their backs to it, sending the boats through the silvery sheet with great speed. The Englishmen’s boat seemed to skim over the surface of the water with the ease and grace of the swan, the crew taking it perfectly easy. The first flag-boat was rounded, and the “Mary’s” boat was some distance ahead. But now was “the tug of war.” The good-natured Johnny Bulls awoke from their lethargy, and the cry rang out, “Pull, my hearties, pull!” and every stroke lessened the distance between the two boats, our own boat gaining on the “head boat” about as fast as did the Englishmen. But all was excitement; the men in each host were straining every nerve, and, at the end of the third mile, the Englishmen passed the other boat, and, before the fourth was reached, ours passed it also. But still on they pulled, determined not to give up, yet dropping farther and farther astern, until, at the end of the sixth mile, the English boat was a mile ahead of the “Mary Frazier’s,” and our own about half a mile ahead. The Johnny Bulls now gave three cheers for their own boat, and “three times three” for ours, not so much for the victory as that the boasters had been so badly beaten. Our boys were not interested in the race at all, only pulling for the “fun of the thing,” and they were more surprised than any one else to find that they could beat the “crack boat” of the “M. F.;” and her crew were so mortified that they said no more about “fast boats.” Thus were the boasters beaten.

On Saturday, April 19th, the king gave another grand feast and dance, to which we were all invited as usual. After some time spent in dancing by the chiefs and king, the old black “doctor”[3] of the “Maria Laura” struck up with his violin, and all hands joined in a regular breakdown. This pleased the king and natives very much, they laughing heartily and exclaiming, “What for all the same ’Meriky fashion?”

As we before remarked, Captain H. had built a ball-alley on the island, and the king and chiefs spent a great part of their time there, and had become very expert players. The king might often be seen “rolling a string” with one of the foremast hands of the different ships.

The “Mary Frazier” had now been in port nearly four months, the “Maria Laura” two months, and ourselves one month. The three ships were ready for sea, and had been for weeks, but the wind blew constantly into the passage—a fair wind to enter port, but impossible for a ship to leave. At length, however, on the morning of Wednesday, April 23d, the wind died away and it fell a dead calm, and the old man determined to make the effort to tow the ship out of the passage. Accordingly, we “hove up” anchor and down boats, and commenced to tow. When at the mouth of the passage a breeze sprang up, taking us “all aback,” and swinging the ship around. We were rapidly drifting into the breakers, when the pilot, Rotumah Tom, immediately sprang into a boat alongside, and, pulling for the weather side of the passage, with the end of a line in his hand, which he had taken with him, he plunged down and made it fast around a coral rock, came up, and made signals to “heave away” on board. This was the work of almost a moment; the ship was within but a few feet of the breakers, and we held our breath, expecting every instant to see her strike. But by sharp, quick work, and the good judgment and activity of Rotumah Tom, we soon cleared the breakers, and, warping up to our old anchorage, “let go” again.

The other ships also dropped anchor, and congratulated us on the narrow escape of the “Emily.” We felt thankful to GOD for the escape, narrow as it was. To have been wrecked there and then would have been truly lamentable.

The next morning a light breeze sprang up from the southward, and all three ships left Strong’s Island, bidding them adieu. The breeze increased as we dropped the land, and with a fair wind we headed west-northwest for Guam.

[3] The cook.