CHAPTER XX.

Close of the first “Season” on Japan.—Making Passage to the Group.—“Land ho!”.—“Breathing-places for Sailors.”—Henderville’s Island.—Unpleasant Prospect.—Narrow Escape from the Breakers.—A large Whale.—An ugly Customer.—Ocean Island Dick.—Ocean Island.—“Some Pumpkins.”—Bound for Strong’s Island.—Calms.—“Blow, ye gentle Breezes.”—At our “Hotel” once more.—Hospitality of the Natives.—A diabolical Scheme.—Anger of the King.—Narrow Escape of all Hands from Poisoning.—Wilds and the Queen.—A sudden Awakening.—Wild Boar.—Join in the Chase.—Brave Men.—The Boar presented in great State to the King.—Bravery of the “White Man.”—“Hog not Dog.”—At sea again.

At the close of our first “season” on Japan, we found ourselves with two hundred and fifty barrels more of oil than when we came on to the ground, and we felt greater encouragement, though we were yet very poorly off, being nearly two years from home, with but five hundred and fifty barrels. However, the weather admonished us that we must be leaving those regions; and accordingly, on the 10th of September, we pointed the “Emily’s” head to the southward, and, crowding on the “kites,” we were soon in pleasant weather, making passage to our old ground, the Group.

On the morning of Thursday, September 18th, we were aroused by the soul-cheering cry of “Land ho!” In a moment all hands were in the rigging to catch a glimpse of the land. All strained their eyes with eager excitement to once more view a _green spot_. We had now been cruising nearly five months, and during that time we had seen nothing that resembled land, and but two ships. Sailing in the midst of the vast North Pacific, and cruising week after week, month after month, nothing new, nothing to change the monotony so usual to shipboard, all at once rose to our view a beautiful island densely covered with dark green foliage, the tall cocoanut-trees nodding a welcome as they waved their sweeping branches to and fro; and as we drew near to the land, the neat huts of the natives peering through the leafy opening, with the white sand-beach, a delightful clear atmosphere, with a fine breeze, the old ship standing on in majesty, all combined to make it a scene refreshing to behold—one of beauty and loveliness. Truly have these islands been denominated “breathing-places for sailors.” After beating about, enduring gales and storms, and meeting with no living beings upon the trackless ocean, to be ushered into the presence of one of these lovely “sea-girt isles” fills the beholder with the most joyous feelings, and convinces him that he is yet in the land of the living. We found ourselves, almost unconsciously we might say, offering our thanks and praises to the Giver of all good for His protecting power through the dangers and storms of our voyage thus far, and trusting that we should ere long be restored to those we so dearly loved.

But we were now to cruise for a few months among these islands. On Tuesday, September 21st, we were in sight of Henderville’s Island. At sunset, being about eight miles distant from the land, the wind died away, leaving every thing calm, the surface of the water unruffled, not a breath of air stirring, and the sails idly hanging or flapping themselves to and fro. The current was rapidly setting us in-shore. About eight o’clock we lowered a boat, and found we were drifting toward the reef at the rate of two miles per hour. The lights of the native fishermen along the reefs were plainly visible, and the roar of the breakers came to our ears in thunder tones, that sent a thrill through every heart, sounding like a death-knell, or the roaring of some monster anxious for his prey. That land which had appeared so beautiful to us but a few days previous was now hateful to our sight, and oh! how we longed for “plenty of sea-room” again. That island might truly be a “breathing-place” for us, but we feared it would be our last “breathing-place,” for we well knew the disposition of its natives, and were well aware that, should our ship be lost, there was no mercy to be expected from those rapacious savages. Serious thoughts for once filled the mind of every man on board: the visions of those happy homes far away—were we never to visit those homes again? The memories of the many happy days spent with friends—were we never again to enjoy them? After battling the elements thus far, after passing through so many dangers, were we thus to perish—to be thus massacred by a horde of merciless savages, and no one, perhaps, to tell our friends when and how we died? Oh! it was horrible to think of, and caused a shudder of anguish to pass through our every frame. And yet nothing but the interposition of a kind and merciful Providence could avert this fate. Slowly but surely were we drifting into those fatal breakers, and one hour more, one short hour, we felt must decide our fate. Oh, for a breeze! in vain we look for it; in vain we wished for it. All was calm and unruffled.

As a last resort, the boats were ordered out, and all hands sprang into them as they never sprang before, and commenced towing the ship. For four long hours did those noble men work at the oars, a battle between life and death, each seemingly striving for the mastery. We were just able, by this constant tugging at the oars, “to hold our own,” to stem the current. About one o’clock in the morning a breeze sprang up, and never, never was wind so welcomed. All hands gave one simultaneous shout, “We are saved!” and returned to the ship with joyous hearts. We could not but thank our heavenly Father for thus preserving us from the horrible fate that at one time seemed so certainly to await us.

Glad indeed were we to be delivered from this fate, and we now directed our course toward Ocean Island. On the morning of Thursday, September 25th, at daylight, the welcome shout was heard, “There she blows! A large whale!” Instantly the boats were down, and all hands gave chase. We discovered the whale had been fastened to by some other ship, as he had two irons in him, with a long line trailing behind. The larboard, or mate’s, boat soon fastened; the whale sounding heavily, a signal was made for “more line,” and the bow boat ran down, and passed to them their line; the whale continued to sound, taking out nearly eight hundred fathom (4800 feet), until the irons drew. In a short time the whale made his appearance; the boats again renewed the chase. After some considerable manœuvring and provoking dodging on the part of the whale, the waist-boat fastened. Away he went again, railroad speed, and after treating the boat’s crew to a ride that caused them to exert every muscle to hold their hair on, the irons again “came home.”

This only served to increase the excitement, and again the several boats gave chase with redoubled energy and ardor. About sunset the captain’s boat drew near; he stood in the head of the boat, determined to make the old fellow show the “red flag.” He was now close on; all were looking with breathless anxiety. They neared him, and the captain darted; the second iron followed the first in an instant, and he shouted “We are fast!” and turned round to roll up the sail of the boat. The old man was the spryest man in the ship, and before he could roll up the sail (which usually occupies about a minute), the last flake of line went out of the boat, and away went the old veteran with four hundred fathom (2400 feet) of our line and two harpoons. This was the last chance, it being near sunset, and they gave up the chase, at the same time respecting the intelligence and sagacity of the whale in not allowing himself to become a prey to the frail boats. He probably felt himself insulted by being pestered with such small trash, as well as the idea of being melted up for grease.

The men came on board hungry, thirsty, and tired, having pulled and worked from 6 A.M. to 8 P.M., with but a couple of cakes of hard bread and about a quart of water each to refresh themselves with through the day. The weather was intensely hot; they were exposed to the equatorial sun, which was directly over them; and yet they thought of none of these things till they came on board with no whale. Thus ended the chase of the largest whale we had yet seen, and which our boys christened “Ocean Island Dick.” The captain asserted that for the many years he had followed the sea (about thirty), he had never seen so large a whale as this one. Never mind; he has got the ship’s mark, in the shape of two irons, that will be apt to trouble him some before he rids himself of them.

Saturday, September 27th, we were at Ocean Island. The king himself, with quite a number of natives, came off, bringing with them nothing but _pumpkins_ to trade. One of the boys remarked that he “supposed they considered themselves ‘_some pumpkins!_’” They were of an excellent quality, but were, in reality, our _crooked-neck squash_. They raise them in great quantities, and it is the principal article of trade with the ships. This island is certainly the most beautiful one of the group, the land being moderately high, and presenting a very even surface.

On leaving here we shaped our course again for Strong’s Island, which we saw on Wednesday, October 8th. As we neared the land the wind died away, leaving us becalmed, which continued for four days and nights. How provoking it was to lie there, about sixteen or eighteen miles from the land, during all this time, and feel ourselves thus imprisoned! During the day-time the surface of the water would scarce be disturbed by a ripple, and presented the appearance of a vast mirror, with a green islet by the way of decoration. After having been shut up in the ship for six long and weary months without setting foot on shore, to be thus kept in sight of a green “breathing-place” for four days and nights, and feel that you could not reach it so long as the calm continued, was tantalizing; it was not strange that we wished for a strong breeze, one that would put us into the harbor in two or three hours.

At length our wishes were gratified; and on Sunday morning, October 12th, we again dropped anchor in our old resting-place. In the afternoon we went on shore, and, on arriving at our “hotel,” found Zegrah and his wife, who gave us a hearty welcome, having been expecting us. In the evening they gave a feast in honor of our arrival.

The next two or three days we spent as usual, rambling over the island, through canals and over walls—through swamps and ditches in search of adventure. As we have before observed, we found the natives very kind and hospitable, always welcoming us in a hearty manner; and, from their actions, we should judge they were really glad to see us again. Wherever we visited, they spread before us the numerous fruits of the island, urging us to eat, and insisting that we should drink a shell of carva with them. We can never forget their kind, simple-hearted hospitality, and we have often looked back upon our visits there as green spots in the desert of life, refreshing and cheering.

Since the death of Mr. Smith, whenever we had been at this island, Canker would never come near the ship. This we thought strange, as the first time we were there he was on board nearly every day. Still, he appeared very kind to any of the ship’s company when they called upon him, making them presents of fruit, etc., as if wishing to reinstate himself in their good graces.

On Thursday, October 16th, the king came off to the ship to dinner. On sitting down at the table, he happened to cast his eye upon a dish of greens, which had been sent to the ship by Canker, and cooked by the steward. He instantly took the dish, and then went upon deck, examined them minutely, and threw them all overboard. He then inquired if there were any more on board, and on being answered that a large quantity had been cooked for the men, he ordered them to be thrown overboard immediately. He then asked, “Who been makey send all the same on board?” On being told “Canker,” his anger scarcely knew bounds. He raved and appeared so excited we feared he would do himself some injury. After a little while he became more calm, and said, “Captain, you look out that Canker; he too much bad man; he no good. I no like speak too much; he my son.” It was evident there was a struggle going on in the heart of the good old king. He loved his son notwithstanding his faults, and to thus have evidence of his bloodthirstiness angered him, and it was some time before he fully recovered himself.

It was, indeed, a diabolical scheme of this Canker’s. Some one of the crew had injudiciously told him, in jest, that “a large man-of-war was on its way to the island to inquire into the death of Mr. Smith, and that, if the captain or any of the crew should tell them he had poisoned Mr. S., the man-of-war would hang him.” This he believed, and, feeling his guilt, he determined to remove all evidence of it by putting the whole ship’s company to death by poison. He knew we were all fond of greens, and he chose a day, also, on which none would be on shore, all hands taking dinner on board that day. But, through the interposition of the Almighty, he was prevented from accomplishing his dark and bloody designs. How much had we to thank our heavenly Father for, and how many times did he preserve our lives from threatened dangers, seen and unseen, during those five eventful years of our life!

One evening during our stay, one of our men, by the name of Wilds, whom we shipped on our first visit to this island, had some little disturbance with her Strong’s Island majesty, the queen. Wilds had always been a great favorite with her, and was privileged to do and say as he pleased about the house. He had lived with the king while on the island. This evening he came in with his mats and pillow rolled up under his arm, and commenced joking and teasing the queen; finally, starting to leave, he asked her if he could leave them there until he returned for them. On being answered in the affirmative, he threw the bundle at her in a playful manner, which happened to hit her rather solid, and knocked her down. She screamed, of course (what woman would not?), and imagined herself nearly killed. Poor Wilds at first knew not what to do or say; finally he undertook to apologize, but she would not listen to a word, and ordered him to leave.

This little incident shows what a trifling circumstance will break the friendship of some of these natives, and turn them to as bitter enemies as they were former friends, as in the case of Mr. S. and Canker. Wilds received orders from the queen not to come to the palace again, as she did not like the idea of allowing her royal person to be a target for a common sailor to fire his bundles at. The king, however, when he heard of it, laughed at it as a good joke, and treated Wilds with as much friendship as formerly.

We were now all ready for sea again—wood and water all on board. Thinking, however, that we must have one more ramble before leaving, on Saturday, October 18th, we started, in company with several of our shipmates, for a stroll among the mountains. During our walk we came to a fine spring running into a large stone basin. The weather being excessively hot, we concluded to lie down in this cool, shady place, and rest. While reclining on these beautiful mossy banks, spinning yarns of homes far away, and of happy days, carrying ourselves, in imagination, to those homes and pleasures, we were very suddenly and unceremoniously aroused from our easy positions by a rushing sound, accompanied by a hoarse roar. It can be imagined that we did not occupy many moments in regaining our feet, and we had scarcely done so ere a large wild boar rushed past with great velocity, deigning not even to bestow a passing glance upon us, the spectators of his race, whose hair stood on end, but kept on his course until he was lost in the thicket.

Some natives, headed by Sekane, the chief soon made their appearance, and stated that they had started the boar from his den by wounding him, and asked us to join in the chase. This we consented to do, as we were anxious to view the sport; but, not exactly understanding the hooks and crooks of wild-boar hunting, took good care to keep well in the rear, and our eyes about us. It was certainly amusing; the slightest noise would cause our company to start for some tree, and on finding that it was merely a false alarm, would look immensely foolish. The natives now wished us to guard a pass that we had arrived at while they went after him. As soon as the natives were all out of sight, we took our stations in small trees, where we were sure that we should be out of reach of the boar’s tushes. After waiting some time, we heard a shouting but a short distance from us. Each now instinctively shouted “he is coming,” and tried to ascend still higher. We were relieved from our fears, however, by seeing the squad of natives approaching, with the wild boar lashed in such a manner that he could not escape. He was carried by means of poles run through the lashings of his feet by four natives. They felt very proud of their booty, and exclaimed, “King have big feast now!” He was captured by means of a lasso thrown over his head by one of the natives. Sekane now wished us to form a grand procession and march to the king’s house, where the boar would be delivered to and received by the king in great style, “all the same ’Meriky fashion,” as they termed it. We accordingly did so; and on our arrival, the natives, who had gathered in great numbers, commenced shouting, until we could hardly “hear ourselves think.” The animal was then presented to the king by Sekane, who made a speech, which was very intelligible to us, as we could not understand a word of it, and replied to by the king in the same manner. We were informed, however, by Cæsar that the king praised highly the natives who had captured him, and that he spoke highly of the bravery and assistance the white men had rendered, as Sekane had given him a glowing description of our assistance. This, of course, restored our confidence in our own courage, which had somewhat fallen.

The animal was immediately slaughtered, and preparations were made for a “big feast,” to which the white men were all invited, and those of us who had so _materially assisted_ in its capture were assigned posts of honor by the side of Sekane, who was the “lion of the day.” We now began to think that we had some courage, and many of the boys expressed themselves as ready to proceed on another “wild boar hunt,” provided—the natives would go ahead. The feast passed off with great _eclat_, and all hands enjoyed it much, dining this time on veritable “hog,” and not “dog.”

But we were now ready for the “blue waters” again, and we must not loiter too long amid the pleasant scenes of Strong’s Island. On Monday, October 19th, we weighed anchor and proceeded to sea. The king and Captain H. accompanied us outside the passage, when we took leave of them, and, with a fair wind, shaped our course once more for the Group. We had been treated with such uniform kindness by most of the natives the many times that we had visited this island, and by such marked respect by the king and chiefs, that the remembrance of the happy hours we had there spent, and the pleasant and agreeable scenes we had met, as well as the information we had gained, still clings to us, and furnishes many an agreeable moment for reflection and pleasure.