CHAPTER XXI.

Blackfish.—Ship “Phocion.”—Ship “Ganges.”—Bark “Belle.”—“Chips” in Prison.—Friday’s Departure.—Sorrowful Leave-taking.—Ship “Bengal.”—Ship “Lion.”—Henderville’s Island once more.—Dick Simpson.—Ship “John and Elizabeth.”—Another New Year.—“Music by the Band.”—Variations.—An “Amateur” Concert.—Bark “Alfred Tyler.”—Wreck of the “Ontario.”—Ocean Island again.—Freshwater Cavern.—Superstitions.—Beachcombers.—Rascally Operations.— Convicts.—Taboo.—Natives.—Climate.—Houses.—Religious Belief.— Sharp Practice.—Characteristics.—Whaling.—Pleasant Island.— Disturbance with the Natives.—Ship “Mohawk.”—Pitcairn’s Island.—Mutiny of the “Bounty’s” Crew.—Death of Mrs. P.—“To my Husband.”—Massacre at Covill’s Island.—Whaling again.—A few stray Thoughts upon that subject.—Heavy Gale.—A “Gemman ob Color.”—His splendid Dress.—Passage to Guam.

We were again at our old business of cruising and whaling, but with poor success. On Friday, October 31st, we captured three blackfish. These are a species of whale yielding from one to five barrels of oil, of an inferior quality, and almost black, from which color the fish seems to have derived its name.

Monday, November 3d, we spoke the “Phocion,” of New Bedford, Captain Nichols, and the day following the “Ganges,” of Nantucket, cutting in a sperm whale, which assured us that others were fortunate if we were not, and consoling ourselves that our turn would soon come.

Nothing of any interest transpired for a month from this time, except occasionally lowering for whales and the capture of two, until Wednesday, December 3d, when we again spoke the bark “Belle,” just from Sydney. From them we learned that our carpenter, _alias_ “Chips,” who, it will be recollected, deserted at Pitt’s Island, and left in the “Belle,” had been arrested in Sydney for stealing a quadrant and sextant from a ship there, and thrown into prison. We were now to lose one of our _best_ men, though a Kanaka. For some time past it was evident that Friday had been growing homesick, and he often told us, “I like go see my land.” The captain, being willing to gratify him, and it being uncertain when we should again visit his “land,” consented to his taking passage in the “Belle,” which vessel was going there immediately. Friday was overjoyed at this prospect; his chest was brought upon deck, ready to be lowered into the other ship’s boat. But now came the parting with his shipmates. This was hard for poor Friday, for all loved him, though he had a dark skin. He had been so kind to all on board—so ever ready and willing to do all in his power to serve others’ interests—so quick to learn, and so grateful for any kindness shown, that all hands, from captain to cook, loved and respected him. Many little presents had been bestowed upon him as tokens of remembrance, and his heart almost failed him as he looked around upon those he was leaving behind; the tears gushed from his eyes; but, summoning resolution to his aid, he sprang into the boat awaiting him, and sadly waving his hand to us, was soon out of sight. We can truly say that we have parted with many white acquaintances with less sorrow than we did with Friday, the Pitt’s Island Kanaka.

On Tuesday, December 9th, we spoke the “Bengal,” of New London, an Arctic whaler, who reported quite a number of whalers lost in the Arctic the previous season by the ice. A short time after we spoke the “Lion,” of Providence, Captain Nichols, a brother of the master of the “Phocion,” whom we saw a few days previous.

The morning of Saturday, December 20th, broke with very squally, thick weather, and we came very near running down Henderville’s Island, or running well on it. It appeared almost that we were fated to be cast away on this hated place. The “Lion” was on our weather beam, and was running in the same direction. As the squall, which was a severe one, passed off, and the weather became clear, we discovered breakers just ahead. We had “tacked” ship very quick a number of times during the voyage, but never, we venture to say, did the “Emily” go about quicker than then. The “Lion,” being to windward, had more room; she also went about, and we left those parts just as fast as the breeze would drive us.

While trading at Simpson’s Island, on Monday, December 29th, a chief came alongside in a canoe, and wished to “see the elephant”—in other words, cast his lot with us. He was partly induced to do so by seeing on board an old shipmate, for it seems he had been one cruise in the “Planter.” The necessary bargain was soon made, and the captain bestowed upon him the name of _Dick Simpson_. Dick turned to his canoe, and ordered the natives to go ashore. They appeared loth to part with him thus, but after some very, to us, unintelligible jargon and extraordinary flourishes on the part of Dick, they left, with sorrowful countenances.

The next day we spoke the “John and Elizabeth,” of New London, Captain Chappel. We were now speaking ships day after day, and nearly all of them later from home than we were. From most of them we obtained papers, and many of the crew obtained letters. It was truly pleasant to us to come so frequently in contact with ships from our own native land, separated from it, as we were, by the diameter of the earth—vessels that bore aloft the same stars and stripes that we had so often beheld waving proudly at home—vessels that contained Americans, _our_ countrymen; and, although we might not be participants in the mighty events which were transpiring in our native land, yet we could hear of them even in that distant clime. These incidents truly served as bright spots in the storm-beaten mariner’s existence.

And now we come to another New-year. Thursday, January 1st, 18—, has come. Another page has been written in the history of man. The thought came to us on this morning, How many hearts at home have been made desolate, during the past year, by the loss of near and dear friends? How many have been called from this vale of tears to meet their GOD? Have we profited by the lessons which our heavenly Father has endeavored to impress upon us? To us will come, before another New-year shall roll around, the words, “This year thou shalt die.”

All hands this day held a sort of jubilee, “going in,” as far as our limited means would allow. All appeared to think of but one thing, “We are one year nearer home.” No work was done except attending to the sailing of the ship; all hands regaled themselves on roast chicken, sea pie, plum duff, etc. (which did not amount to much—etc., we mean), for dinner.

The sailor is proverbial for his love of music. We were gamming with the “Phocion” on Wednesday, January 7th, and in the evening the cook of the “Phocion” came on board, bringing with him his violin. He was the _blackest_ man we ever saw—so black that we actually believe charcoal would make a white mark on him. He was not only cook on board the “P.,” but was also the “band.” He was asked down into the cabin to entertain his listeners with his melodious strains, and there requested to play “Hail Columbia;” and whether it was because we were so long absent from the land of Yankee Doodle, or whether we had no appreciation of music, we know not, yet we could discern no track or trace of “Hail Columbia,” as we were wont to hear it in times past. Not relishing it, we requested him to play “Yankee Doodle,” with the “variations.” He commenced, and before the first strain was ended the dogs left the cabin for the deck on the full run, howling, with their paws to their ears; the crockery in the steward’s room seemed to catch the infection, and danced about merrily; the officers, who had retired for their watch below, growled; the din increasing as the darkey worked into the merits of the tune, all tended to create admirable confusion, until we had faint ideas of being spectators and listeners in Pandemonium. The noise increased; the darkey sawed away more lustily than ever; the captain’s wife cried out that she was half crazy, until some person, who had “no soul for music,” threw a large sea-boot with such unerring aim and force, that, striking the “band” full in the countenance, fairly drove his nose in, as it was already as flat as possible; the claret flew, and the darkey, muttering something about not appreciating music, pocketed the insult and started forward for the forecastle.

Here the concert again commenced, with all the “variations.” The men joined in, some singing, some drumming on tin-pans, some dancing, the Kanakas yelling, and the old darkey “coming down” with a vengeance. As these _melodious_ sounds reached the deck, we really imagined ourselves in Bedlam; at all events, we could not but wish the fiddler there with a hearty good-will.

Tuesday, January 20th, we spoke the bark “Alfred Tyler,” of Edgartown, Captain Luce, who reported that a few days previous he had lost a boat and boat’s crew by desertion. They had supplied themselves with provisions and every thing necessary, and it was supposed had steered for Sydenham’s Island. Captain Luce, immediately disguising his vessel by paint, and transforming her into a ship, was in pursuit of the deserters, and felt confident that he should yet capture them.

On Monday, February 2d, spoke the “Hector” again, who reported the “Ontario,” of New Bedford, ashore on the reef at Pitt’s Island, and rapidly going to pieces at last accounts. She had on board twenty-two hundred barrels whale oil, which was mostly stove or drifted about. The “Phocion,” very fortunately being in the neighborhood at the time of the accident, rendered them all the assistance in her power. All hands were saved. The “P.” also picked up four or five hundred barrels of oil, which, in addition to that already obtained, filled her, and she started for home, the captain of the wrecked Ontario taking passage. It was very fortunate that the ship went ashore at this island, as the natives are kind and generous, and rendered all the assistance in their power to get her off the reef, and in obtaining several valuable articles from the ship, which they delivered to their rightful owners. Had she been wrecked on some of the southward islands, she would have been instantly thronged with natives, who would have plundered her of every thing they could carry off, if they did not massacre the entire crew.

The captain and all hands having a desire for more of the Ocean Island “pumpkins,” and being in the immediate vicinity, we steered for Ocean Island, arriving there on Wednesday, February 11th. Quite a number of canoes came off to trade, but the captain, not obtaining a sufficient quantity, sent a boat on shore to obtain a boat-load, if possible.

On this island there is but one place where the natives can procure fresh water, and that is a large cavern some distance below the surface of the earth. By reason of a superstitious belief, no one but women are allowed to descend this cavern; hence the females bring all the water that is required by the natives in cocoanut-shells, as they have no utensils of a larger description. At some seasons of the year the water is very low, and the king places all on an allowance of so much per day. At such times many suffer from the want of it. We remember that at one time of visiting this island, it being in the dry season, the natives came off in swarms to get water to drink, and so numerous were they that the captain was obliged to compel them to desist, as we had barely sufficient to last until the end of the cruise.

There were several white men living on shore here at this time, of the class known as “beachcombers.” From their appearance we should judge them to be of the worst class of society—strong-built, able-bodied men, living here an indolent, lazy life; nothing to do, their victuals brought to them by the females, and swilling a sort of rum made from the cocoanut. The natives, believing by their protestations that they can accomplish any thing, appear to favor them, and each chief has a “beachcomber” to do his trading on the ship. Yet they resort to all manner of deceit, both with natives and with any ship’s company that will allow them to come on board. Whenever a ship heaves in sight, they represent to the natives that the captain is either a brother or cousin of theirs, and promise great things. When they come on board, they generally go about begging among the men, spinning a most pitiful yarn, and, at the same time, taking good care not to take any thing out of their reach, but still _reaching very far_ if occasion requires. If they can find a disaffected person among the ship’s company, they “button-hole” him at once, and persuade him, if possible, to desert, telling him how easily he can live on shore; that they will take charge of and hide him, so that neither the captain nor natives can find him; and represent that they have unbounded influence with their chief, who is always the highest on the island. If they succeed in persuading the man to desert, they will promise to carry many little articles ashore for him, with some clothing, as, they say, “You would be suspected if they should see you with a bundle of clothes, but if they see me with them they will readily suppose I have bought them.” After getting all they can, they persuade the man to hide in the bottom of a canoe alongside, throw a mat over him, and the natives, who understand the game that is being played, paddle off to the shore. Presently the man is missed. The captain goes ashore, and offers a reward of ten or twenty pounds of tobacco and some pipes for the recovery of the deserter. The poor miserable Judas then goes to the captain, and informs him that he has discovered the runaway’s hiding-place, and takes him immediately to the place where he has put the man himself, and reveals him to the captain, who orders him to the boat. The poor fellow, not daring to resist, with a feeling of shame, and his head hung down, proceeds to the boat; the captain pays the reward to the villain, who chuckles to think how nicely he has deceived and betrayed both parties.

We have often wondered why it is that masters of vessels, who well know the foregoing remarks to be true, will allow these miserable pests and outcasts to come on board their ships. They are nearly all escaped convicts from the penal colonies of Sydney and Norfolk Island, and the worst class of those convicts. They contaminate all with whom they come in contact; and no person, having the slightest regard for himself, or possessed of the smallest degree of ambition or honesty, would for a moment consent to reside on one of these islands, living in the manner these _beachcombers_ generally do. They are constantly instilling some mischief into the heads of the natives, and teaching them treachery and deceit. Many times, we are sorry to say, has great injustice been done to the shipwrecked or invalid mariner by classing him with these people, but no one despises a beachcomber more than a true sailor.

The taboo is also exercised at this island; per example: when their products are very scarce, the king places the taboo upon all trade, thus forbidding them to take off any thing to ships; but should a ship arrive and wish to trade, the taboo may be broken by the captain coming ashore and paying the king a certain amount of tobacco. As soon as the taboo is off, canoes go in great numbers. The appearance of three ships at any one time also breaks the taboo.

The natives here also live in a state of great subjection. The principal authority is vested in a king; the chiefs rank next, each chief having authority over a particular tribe, who are held more as slaves than as free men. The climate is warm, and of an even temperature, the island being forty-eight miles south of the equator. They enjoy alternately the sea-breeze and land-breeze, the thermometer ranging from seventy-five to eighty degrees.

The inhabitants are strong, robust-looking, and wear no dress of any description. The houses are similar to those on Strong’s Island, built of bamboo, very large and comfortable, but not kept over and above neat. Their ideas of good and bad are similar to those held by the natives of the Windward Islands of the Group; they have their evil spirits, or “Jentsh,” who, they believe, occupy the deep cavern; but, as females are considered harmless, none but they can descend the cavern and live. They are most expert thieves, and their transactions in this line would shame a London pickpocket. As a specimen: we bought some beautiful shells from one of these gentry at a reasonable price, and very carefully, as we supposed, knowing their weakness for _taking_ things, hid them. Presently the same native we had purchased of came up from his canoe alongside with another assortment, which he offered us. We bought them, at the same time remarking the great resemblance they bore to the ones we had just purchased, and proceeded to stow them away. On arriving at the place, lo and behold! the shells were gone, and, on examining closely, we found that we had purchased the same shells twice. The rascal had watched where we put them, informed another native, who had slyly taken them, lowered them to the former one alongside, who then paddled around the other side of the ship, and came on board with “more shell,” as he said. We were completely _sold_ as well as the shells, and, feeling somewhat indignant, procured a good-sized billet of wood, and proceeded to look for the canoe. But the rascal was too sharp for us again; anticipating punishment, doubtless, he wisely jumped into his canoe and paddled for the shore, leaving us to gaze after him, and laughing probably at the fine trick he had played us. This practice was universal; some of the men bought fowls twice, some mats, and other articles. We came to the conclusion that the example of the rascally beachcombers had not been without its influence upon these natives.

We were now having very good success in whaling, having taken about one hundred and fifty barrels since leaving port. On Friday, February 13th, we saw whales, and lowered all the boats. Each boat soon fastened to a separate whale. The one to which the bow boat fastened appeared inclined to show fight. After running a short distance, he would turn and rush with open jaws for the boat, but the crew were rather too quick for him, and would dodge the enraged monster. Getting tired of this play, he finally sounded. All hands were now watching to see where he would “break water,” and at the same time hauling in slack line. Presently they were all startled by the appearance of a huge jaw, well filled with teeth, coming through the bottom of the boat. One of the crew, who sat immediately over the spot, was thrown into the air in the shape of a spread eagle, and came down into the water not hurt, but badly frightened. The boat instantly filled, as a large portion of her bottom was gone, treating the whole crew to a ducking. The whale, appearing perfectly satisfied with what had been done, left for parts unknown, with the ship’s mark clinging to him. Out of the general conflict we secured two whales, which we took alongside, and soon had their jackets off and into casks.

From here we proceeded to Pleasant Island, and sighted it on Thursday, February 19th. The captain struck a bargain with one of the chiefs for five thousand old cocoanuts and twenty-five large hogs, for which he was to pay in muskets, tobacco, etc. On arriving at the ship with the hogs and cocoanuts, they were found to be wanting both in quality and quantity. The captain refused to receive them unless the chief was willing to receive pay in proportion to what he had brought. This the copper-colored rascal refused to do, and demanded payment for the whole amount _agreed_ to be furnished; but the captain was firm, and distinctly told him and his natives that he would pay them for no more than they had brought. At this they became greatly enraged, and the captain ordered them to take their property and leave. This they refused to do, declaring they would not go until they had received pay for every thing they had agreed to bring. We now apprehended some disturbance; the natives were getting excited; we knew them to be the worst and most sanguinary tribe on the island; the captain was becoming angry, and we anticipated quite a little time. As they appeared determined not to go, the captain ordered hogs, natives, and cocoanuts all pitched overboard, and we commenced with the cocoanuts first, throwing them into the water; the hogs soon followed, and the natives, anxious to save their property, went of their own accord, gladly saving us from a personal encounter, in which we felt that we would have fared the worse.

The next day we spoke the “Mohawk,” of Nantucket, Captain Swain. The wife of Captain S. being with him, and being an old friend of Mrs. E., our captain’s lady, they enjoyed a very pleasant visit together.

The “Mohawk” was recently from Pitcairn’s Island, well known as the residence of the descendants of the “Bounty’s” mutineers. We presume that the circumstances of this mutiny may be known to some of our readers, but we shall take the liberty of relating it, as related to us by one who lived upon the island. In 1790, the “Bounty” was sent from England to Otaheite to procure plants of the bread-fruit to introduce into the West Indies. After leaving Otaheite, the crew, or a majority of them, headed by Mr. Christian, the mate, mutinied. They placed the captain, who had the reputation of being a tyrant, with some others, in an open boat, gave them provisions and water, and cast them adrift. The mutineers, after cruising about some time, made Pitcairn’s Island. Here they resolved to form a settlement, and, proceeding back to Otaheite, procured females, whom they took with them, and then went on shore, taking all that was valuable from the ship. After doing this they burned her. At first they had much trouble, and murders were committed; but finally, through the influence of one John Adams, the remainder became Christianized. He had taken ashore with him a Bible and Prayer-book. Much attention was paid to educating their children in the tenets of the Christian religion, and before his death Mr. A. had the pleasure of seeing the colony well established, and the people prosperous and happy. At his death he resigned his charge into the hands of one John Moffet, an enlightened Christian man who visited the island, and, being struck with the simplicity and religious character of the inhabitants, became so favorably impressed that he decided to remain there. “At this time,” said our informant, “he lives there, administers the simple code of laws framed for their government by Mr. Adams, and, although a very aged man, is the umpire in all disputes, reads service every Sabbath, and is regarded as a loving father by all.”

We also learned of the death of Mrs. P., wife of Captain P., at this island. The deceased had resided on Nantucket, where she was esteemed by all who knew her as one of those kind ministering spirits who soothe the distressed, comfort the mourner, and alleviate the wants of the poor as far as lies in their power; in short, one of those few persons who are universally beloved by all. Her health being very poor, it was thought a sea-voyage would be beneficial to her; accordingly, she accompanied her husband, who was master of a whaler. After some months, perceiving the health of his wife to be failing, he steered for Pitcairn’s Island. Arriving there, she went on shore in excellent spirits; and, after remaining some days, Captain P., finding that she rapidly regained her health, took an affectionate leave for a short cruise. As soon as the excitement connected with coming on shore had subsided, she commenced failing again, and in a short time her soul took its flight to that better and brighter world, where “all is joy, and peace, and love,” to receive the happy reward which is promised to those who love GOD; leaving as a legacy the following lines, written while on her death-bed, her form racked with pain, but her soul calm and clear as a summer’s morn:

TO MY HUSBAND.

“Farewell, my husband; the cold hand of death, So long extended, now arrests my breath; I feel the imperious mandate, and comply, For not to-day have I just learned to die. My days of suffering and my nights of pain, I thank my GOD, have not been sent in vain; My faith is strong; in Jesus I confide— I know that I shall live, for He hath died. Yes, my dear husband; though this wasted form Must mingle with the dust and feed the worm, Yet when a few short years at most are o’er, Then shall we meet, I trust, to part no more. Then moderate your grief; and though your tears May fall, as memory calls to mind past years, Yet ever in your breast this hope retain, ‘My transient loss is her eternal gain.’ That you have loved me with unfailing love, Our wedded life most ever loudly prove; In health or sickness, ever still the same— To please, to soothe, and comfort, all your aim. That you will mourn my loss I feel assured, But let that loss with patience be endured. And now to GOD, my Father and my Friend, To Jesus, on whose merits I depend, I would commend thee while yet my strength remain— Farewell, beloved, until we meet again.”

Her body was attended to its final resting-place with great solemnity. The wild winds chant their mournful requiem over her grave, accompanied by the never-ceasing roar of old ocean, as she dashes against the rocky shores of this lovely Pacific isle.

We learned farther from the “Mohawk” that the natives of Covill’s Island (an island just to the northward of Pitt’s Island) had taken a California schooner, and massacred the passengers and crew. It was supposed that there were female passengers on board, as the natives were in possession of sundry articles of ladies’ apparel. In trading with some vessel, they gave California gold pieces for little or no tobacco, showing that they place no intrinsic value upon gold or silver. These natives attempted to take the “Lion” while she was trading there, but did not succeed.

Whenever two whalemen are in company, and whales are raised by either ship, the boats from both vessels lower, and all oil thus taken by either is shared in common. On Monday, March 8th, while in company with the “Mohawk,” whales were raised, and down went eight boats in hot pursuit, each boat seemingly determined on being first boat fast. It was blowing quite fresh at the time, and quite a heavy sea running. The waist-boat from our ship was the first one to fasten, and no sooner had they done so than the gentleman whale knocked the boat into quite a number of pieces, and spilled them out, leaving them “lying around loose.” The larboard boat, happening to be near, took the line and held on to the whale. One of the “Mohawk’s” boats picked up the scattered crew of the stove boat, and brought them on board. The larboard boat was flying through the water at about ten knots, “dead to windward,” against a heavy head sea, which flew over and against her bows with uncommon force. She appeared actually plowing through it, the water forming a high bank of surf each side. The boat soon lost sight of the ship, and they were obliged to cut the line and return, the crew completely saturated with salt water and exhausted by their labors. During this time the bow boat had killed a sixty-barrel whale, which was soon alongside and cut in.

Although ancient and modern historians may abound in descriptions of man’s daring by “flood and field,” and the many accidents and hairbreadth escapes which accompany his voluntary exposure to a multitude of dangers, surely the recital of his doings in the chase and capture of that leviathan of the deep, the sperm whale, can be second to none in the interest it must excite in every contemplative mind. It is not in the field, jungle, or thick forest that these hardy adventurers seek their prey, upon man’s natural element, where, should any untoward accident occur, assistance of some kind can be readily obtained; but on the vast ocean, at times thousands of miles distant from any habitable land, where they are not only exposed to the dangers which beset them in their adventures with these monsters of the deep, but to others still more terrible, in which the dreaded typhoon forms no inconsiderable part; or when, near lands distant and barbarous, dangerous reefs, sunken rocks, and relentless savages may surround them on every side, requiring all the moral and physical energy of which our nature is possessed to escape the manifold dangers which beset them, but which the whaleman looks upon without dread, passing among them in his gallant bark, and bearing off in triumph the valuable giant of the ocean.

Even in these latitudes, the equatorial, we often experience heavy, and sometimes terrible gales of wind. On Wednesday, March 10th, having just cleared our decks from the last “fare of oil,” a heavy gale set in from the westward, which continued for four days, with scarcely a moment’s interruption. The “Mohawk” lost some of her sails, and had her bow boat swept off the cranes. We lost our foretopsail and mainsail, which were literally blown into ribbons. The weather was very thick, the rain descending in torrents, accompanied with heavy thunder and lightning. On Sunday, the 14th, the gale broke, and the clouds lifting, disclosed to our view, but a short distance to windward, Hall’s Island, which we had drifted past. The sun, making his appearance once more, gladdened the hearts of all, and for the first time in four days we took an observation, and found that we were in long. 174° 36´ E., having been drifted by the current from long. 171° E., with but ten miles difference in latitude, being about two hundred and sixteen miles to the eastward of the spot where we took the gale. We very narrowly escaped going ashore the previous night, although unconscious of it at the time. The weather was very thick, and it would have been impossible to have seen land any distance; but, by the safe guidance of an ever-merciful Providence, the two ships were swept through a passage between Knox’s and Hall’s Islands not more than ten or twelve miles in width, and dangerous to pass through in broad daylight. The first intimation that we were any where in the neighborhood of land was when Hall’s Island broke upon our astonished vision to windward, and then did we see the narrow escape we had met with.

Leaving Hall’s Island astern, with clear and pleasant weather once more, the two ships proceeded in company to Ocean Island, where we arrived on Monday, March 22d. Each vessel sent a boat on shore, and procured about three hundred pumpkins. While on shore, our attention was called to an odd figure we saw approaching us, which we discovered to be a native fantastically decorated. It proved to be a man who had formerly sailed in our ship when the present captain was on his first voyage as master of her. He had been to “’Merick,” where, as he informed us, he procured the suit of clothes which he then wore. It consisted of pants which would have buttoned twice round him, but about six inches too short; in lieu of suspenders, they were held up by a piece of spun-yarn passing over his shoulder, and again made fast. His shirt was of calico, of the largest figure and most gaudy colors, with a collar that nearly eclipsed his head, and a cravat of calico, with colors “to match.” His shoes were about fourteen inches in length, and both lefts; his vest, which was intended to be white, had probably been made for a boy, as it was about a foot too short; his coat of blue broadcloth, with large brass buttons, a “swallow-tail” cut, with the waist between his shoulders, the sleeves lacking some inches in length, and the collar nearly reaching to the top of his head, upon which was a very tall, bell-crowned hat, with a very narrow rim. This whole walking machine was surmounted by a huge umbrella. It is probable that some Yankee had given the poor fellow this suit while he was in “’Merick,” and he appeared to feel very grand and proud, but complained that it was _very hot_. He informed the captain that he had returned to the island a rich man, as he had a whole keg of tobacco, besides some pipes, beads, calico, etc.; also, his _complete suit_, of which no other native on the island could boast. The king kept very close to the _great man_, wishing to be considered as his nearest friend, and took quite a fancy to his dress; but of no use; the native felt his superiority over the “niggers,” as he termed them, and scorned even the friendship of the king.

After obtaining a sufficient quantity of pumpkins we returned to the ship, and both vessels took their departure for Guam, preparatory to a season on Japan.