CHAPTER XXVI.

Fishing Junks.—New Companions.—Stove Boat, yet good Luck.—Heavy Gales.—Bashee Islands.—Loo Choos.—The “Reaper” again.—Whaling Ship “Jireh Perry.”—Ship “Alabama.”—“Gamming.”—Ship “Roscoe.”—A Cure for “Bruisers.”—Ship “E. L. B. Jenney.”—Bark “Empress.”—Ormsby’s Peak.—Bonin Islands.—Turtles.—Peel’s Island.—A narrow Escape.— Bonin Island Inhabitants.—Japan Expedition.—An old Shipmate.— Another Runaway.—Fourth of July Celebration.—Ship “Rambler.”—Ship “Hope.”—Parting with an old Friend.—Fishing.—The last Lowering.— Bound for the Sandwich Islands.—Maui and Molokai.—Lahaina.—Anchor down.—Description of Lahaina.—King’s Palace.—Lahainaluna.—Rules and Regulations.—Sports and Pastimes.—Letters from Home.— Productions of Maui.—Captain M‘Culloch.—Sad News.—Death of Stoddard.—Voracity of the Shark.—Kanaka Church.—Small-pox.

Thursday morning, March 3d, saw us clear of the land, with no wind, and enveloped in a thick fog. At noon the fog commenced rising, and as it continued slowly, exposed to our view a swarm of fishing junks. This did not create a very pleasant feeling in our midst, as we well knew that many of the so-called fishing junks were only pirates in disguise. One of them sent a boat with some fish, which we purchased, and then sent him off, as we did not like his appearance. It was still calm, and all hands were “whistling for a breeze,” which soon came, and before evening we were bowling it off at the rate of nine knots.

We had forgotten to mention that while in port we shipped two men, an officer and a boat-steerer. The officer, Mr. M., was a _windy_, braggadocio fellow, not over-stocked with common sense, whom all hands learned soon to hate and despise. The other, Davy, the boat-steerer, was a Frenchman, a very quiet, easy fellow, not at all inclined to kill himself with hard work.

We had been but a few days from port, and while yet in the China Sea, when the glad cry was heard, “T-h-e-r-e she b-l-o-w-s.” As this was our _last cruise_, it can be easily imagined how “eager for the fray” we were. Down went the boats, the men following, feeling decidedly _fishy_. The larboard and starboard boats soon fastened, and killed their whales with but little trouble; but not so with the bow boat. Our new officer must needs “show off” his skill, and, after fastening to his whale, drove the boat completely on to him, when he turned, and commenced very coolly chewing the boat to pieces. This was very unfortunate, as the waist boat, which was nearly up to a fourth whale, was necessarily obliged to go to the relief of the stove boat. The wounded whale fortunately received the harpoon in a vital part, and soon “turned up,” so that we got three whales, which was not a bad commencement for the cruise.

We now experienced very heavy gales of wind—what seamen call the “tail end” of a typhoon. It came upon us at first unawares, and we were near losing all our sails and spars, which would have rendered us a complete wreck. For an hour or two the wind would blow with _tremendous_ force—it appeared that every thing must give way; and then a calm of an hour or two would occur, the sea now rolling and pitching in great fury. This weather lasted for two or three days; and when pleasant weather again broke upon us, never was it more welcome. We now sighted the northern islands of the Bashee group, and it was with difficulty that we kept clear of them.

On Thursday, March 24th, we sighted the southernmost island of the Loo Choo group, belonging to the Japan government. These islands possessed a peculiar interest to us at this time, as Commodore Perry was then on his celebrated expedition to Japan, and it was expected he would visit the Loo Choos about this time.

Twice during our voyage had death visited us, and taken from us officers and shipmates. Again he came, and on this occasion visited the forecastle, taking with him one of our Roratongo natives. He died on Monday, April 12th, of consumption. When he left his native island he was troubled with a severe cough, which grew worse rather than better, until his condition was one past all hope. While in Hong Kong he was placed in the hospital, and every thing that medical skill could do to effect a cure was resorted to, but all in vain. The captain endeavored to persuade him to remain there, promising to leave him so situated that he would be as comfortable as possible while he lived; but this he would not consent to. He said he did not wish to remain there and die among strangers, but would rather be with those with whom he had lately lived—those who were his acquaintances, and among his native friends. Every thing that could be done by captain, officers, and crew to make his last days comfortable and happy, was done. But the time drew near when he was to depart. Death already stood at his bedside, awaiting the summons to convey him over the dark river. Calling his Kanaka friends about him, whose tears flowed fast and full, he gave them sundry messages to his parents, brothers, and sisters; told them to say to all he died a Christian, firm in the faith of a redeeming Savior; and that, although his body might be buried in the depths of the dark blue sea, yet his soul would ascend to that glorious home above, which his Savior had “prepared for all those who love him.” He exhorted us all, in as strong a voice as his weak nature would permit, to prepare for death, for death would as surely come to us as to him. Requesting his native friends to sing, in their language, his favorite “missionary hymn,” as he termed it, “Oh! that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,” etc., he quietly dropped asleep in death.

What a lesson was here taught us nominal Christians by this poor native! An inhabitant of an island but a few years since barbarous, dying strong in the faith of a blessed immortality beyond the grave. If all the missionaries who have left their homes to labor for the spread of the Gospel among the heathen had accomplished no more, through Christ, than the salvation of this one native, yet were they well repaid. “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”

At four P.M. all sail was taken in, the ensign half-mast, and again were all hands called to “witness burial service.” After the usual ceremonies, which were very affecting, the plank was raised, and the body committed to the deep.

Reader, when you die, it will be, we trust, in the Sabbath calm of your hushed chamber; but the poor sailor dies at sea, between the narrow decks of his rolling home. The last accents that reach your ear will be those of love and affection, such as alone flow from a mother’s heart and a sister dear; the last sounds that reach the dying sailor’s ear are the hoarse murmur of that wave which seems impatient to grasp its victim. You will be buried beneath the green tree, where love and grief may go to strew their flowers and cherish your virtues; but the poor sailor is hearsed in the dark depths of the ocean, there to drift about in its under-currents till the great judgment day. Alas! for the poor sailor, often the child of misfortune, impulse, and error, his brief life fraught with privations, hardship, and peril, his grave, at last, the foaming deep! Though man pity him not, may God, in his great mercy, remember his weaknesses and trials, and save him through his Son!

From this time until about the 15th of April we were very successful, obtaining, in three weeks’ time, about three hundred barrels of oil. This, with the whales we captured in the China Sea, increased our store nearly four hundred barrels since leaving Hong Kong. As a matter of course, all hands, from captain to cook, were in the best possible humor. This was our last cruise, and “every whale counted.” We were now steering for the Bonin Islands, to procure turtle, sweet potatoes, watermelons, etc.

Saturday, April 30th, brought to view a sail on our weather beam, the clipper whaler “Jireh Perry,” of New Bedford, Captain Lawrence. This man was a perfect tyrant on board ship, and no crew had ever sailed with him from home and returned. It was stated, and pretty generally believed, that he had killed no less than three men since he had become master of a ship; yet, because he always was fortunate enough to obtain large quantities of oil, and mean enough to treat his crew so that they would all desert at the last port touched at before leaving for home rather than go home in the ship, thereby leaving _all_ the profits to the owners, he could obtain a ship of whom he liked.

A few days later we spoke the “Alabama,” Captain Coggeshall, who reported that the day before Captain L., of the “Jireh Perry,” had shot his cook for some trifling cause.

On Saturday, May 21st, we “gammed” with our old friends of the “Mohawk.” Probably the reader is unacquainted with the meaning of the term “gam,” which is peculiar to whalemen alone. It is simply _visiting_ from one ship to another. When two ships meet, one captain invites the other to come on board and pass the day. On his arrival with a boat’s crew, the chief mate of the vessel that has given the invitation returns with a boat’s crew from his own ship to the stranger, thus leaving the two captains on one ship, and the two mates on the other, and exchanging boat’s crews. The first salute generally is, “How are you, shipmate? how long are you out? how much oil have you got? what part of the States are you from?” But a short time elapses before all hands are acquainted; the visitors are invited into the forecastle, where some time is spent in spinning yarns. After a short general conversation, the song is called for, and some one, generally _the_ singer of the ship, leads off, singing some love-ditty, pirate, or sailor song, all hands joining in the chorus, and making the welkin ring. The song goes round, and he who can not sing must spin a yarn; all must contribute to the general amusement. The day passes pleasantly away, all labor being suspended except the look-out for whales and sailing the ship. These “gams” are to the sailor moments of recreation, and serve to create general satisfaction among all hands. During these “gams” whales are often raised, and the oil secured on the occasion is equally divided between the two ships, “be the same more or less.”

A queer genius was Captain Hayden, of the “Roscoe.” Meeting him about the 1st of June, Captain Ewer invited him on board. On crossing the “Roscoe’s” stern, we observed that Captain H. had his right arm in a sling. Fears were expressed that he had injured himself in some manner. His head also was bound up in a handkerchief. Coming alongside, the man-rope was swung to him, and he came up the ship’s side with one hand, keeping the other in the sling. After congratulations had been exchanged, Captain E. anxiously inquired what was the matter with his arm, “hoping he had not injured it severely, or broken any bones.” Captain H. replied, his countenance as grave as a judge, that “he had been at work very hard during the day, and his arm being somewhat tired, he was merely resting it!” Captain E. replied that he might have suspected some trick of that kind, and asked him “what was the matter with his head; if that had been hard at work also?” He pulled off the handkerchief which bound it, and exposed a completely bald head; making the remark that “he had not seen a whale for two months, and he had shaved his head, and should keep it so, until he took one hundred barrels of oil.” After passing a very pleasant day and evening they departed. We now shaped our course for the Bonin Islands.

It is sometimes the case that disputes arise among the foremast hands, and, instead of settling the matter in an amicable manner, resort is often had to blows. An instance of this kind occurring about this time, and reaching the captain’s ears, the disputants were called aft, and each were furnished with a rope, and ordered to flog one another until he told them to stop. This novel mode of settling the affair they did not relish, yet obey they must, and at it they went. After belaboring each other to their hearts’ content, they were ordered to cease, and went forward rather ashamed of themselves.

We saw the “E. L. B. Jenny,” of Fairhaven, Captain Marsh, on Friday, June 10th. They had taken, a few days previous, a whale which “stowed down” upward of one hundred and thirty barrels. Such whales are very “few and far between.”

On Wednesday, June 15th, we raised a strange sail to leeward. Running down to her, we found it to be the bark “Empress,” a Peruvian merchantman, from Cumsingmoon, China, to Callao, with four hundred Chinese coolies on board, bound to the mines in Peru. This system of deception is equaled only by the African slave-trade. The Chinese (who are generally of the lower classes) are allured, by flattering inducements, to go to California, or some other equally rich country, where, they are told, they will become rich in a few years, and can return to their own country. As soon as they get them on shipboard, a guard is stationed over them, with orders to shoot down the first one that shows any signs of resistance. Being kept such close prisoners, and on the coarsest food, they are naturally joyous at the sight of land, and leave the vessel with glad hearts, only to enter the slavery of the Peruvian mines. This species of slave-trade is, like the African slave-trade in our own land, forbidden by the laws of the country, but secretly connived and winked at.

“Ormsby’s Peak,” of which we give a sketch taken on shipboard, we saw on Saturday, June 18th. It rises about two hundred feet above the level of the ocean, and has no shallow shores around it. Soundings can not be obtained close to the rock. It is one of nature’s great curiosities.

On Thursday, June 23d, we first raised the Bonin Islands, consisting of Perry’s Group, Peel’s and Bailey’s Islands. We here caught a green turtle, who was asleep upon the water. We soon had him in our coppers, making turtle-soup for all hands.

The morning of Monday, June 27th, saw us close in to Peel’s Island. This island presents a fine appearance from the sea, the land being moderately high, and thickly covered with verdure. On the west side is a fine harbor with good anchorage, and very convenient for ships wishing to water. About 9 A.M. the wind died away, leaving it a dead, dull calm, and the current slowly drifted us toward the northern point of the island. As we neared the land destruction appeared almost inevitable, and we feared that the voyage of the “Emily Morgan” was about being brought to a sudden termination, leaving her bones to bleach upon the rocks. But an overruling Providence held all in His hands, and, when within a stone’s throw of the shore, we struck a westerly current, which swept us clear of the point.

It still continued calm until Wednesday the 29th. During that day a breeze sprang up, and we again made the land. Captain E. and a boat’s crew had been on shore two days, in consequence of our drifting away from the land. They came off on this day, bringing with them some sweet potatoes and two fine large turtle. But very few persons reside on these islands—some twelve or fifteen. Mr. Savory, the oldest inhabitant, came to Peel’s Island in 1812, and has never left it. All living on the island are English or American. Irish and sweet potatoes, corn, melons, onions, and nearly all kinds of vegetables, are raised with the greatest ease. Oranges and pine-apples are of spontaneous growth, and abundant. Green turtle, also, are found here in great numbers, and easily procured.

The expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry, paid this island a visit, and the commodore was very strongly impressed with the idea of making it a naval and coal dépôt for vessels plying between San Francisco, Australia, and Hong Kong; so much so that he took possession of a portion of it (with the consent and approbation of the inhabitants), and sent on shore three men, with agricultural implements, seeds, live-stock, etc., to experiment, while he proceeded to the Loo Choos, and to await his return.

The reader will doubtless recollect one “John Wilds,” who sailed with us a short time during the first part of the voyage, and who left to go to the gold mines in Australia. What was our surprise to find him living on Peel’s Island. He informed us that, finding it rather hard digging in Australia, he shipped for Hong Kong, where he joined a whaler. Serving a short season in her, he left, and had since resided on Peel’s Island, raising vegetables, and catching turtle for ships. He had thrown aside the _profession_ of sailor, and had become a _merchant_.

While all hands were busily engaged, from ship to shore, and shore to ship, laying in a stock of vegetables and turtle for our last cruise, one of our men became so enamored with Peel’s Island that he concluded to take French leave. Accordingly, while on shore, he took to his heels and made off. The officer in charge of the boat gave chase, but the man was too nimble for him, and he was soon out of sight. Foolish fellow! he was the loser some four hundred dollars by the operation, and in a few months later lost his life, having been capsized in a boat and drowned.

We now come to the last anniversary of our nation’s birthday that we were destined to spend together in our ocean home, and we resolved that it should be a merry one. All unnecessary work was suspended; the doctor was ordered to serve up his best dishes for the occasion, and all hands went in for a merry time—a celebration on our own hook. During the morning a national salute was fired, the glorious stars and stripes floating proudly at our mizzen peak the mean while. At twelve dinner was announced. The bill of fare, as presented by the doctor, was turtle soup, boiled turtle, fried turtle, and turtle in every conceivable way; sweet potatoes; cakes; pies; custards; turtle eggs, fried and boiled; plum duff, etc., etc.—the whole forming a repast that Jack seldom sits down to. All hands did ample justice to the dinner, which the old darkey cook received as a great compliment. “I tought,” said he, “I fix dinner for you dis foufh July just suit you, and I been gone done it.” We now postponed further proceedings until evening. Among other good things, the steward had brewed a barrel of excellent small beer for the occasion from sweet potatoes and hops. And now the watch had been set; none on deck save the man at the wheel and the officer pacing his rounds. Forward were all hands in the forecastle, which was brilliantly illuminated by the real spermaceti—the spoils of our own hard-fought battles—each one seated with his pot of beer before him. The song was called for; and “Hail Columbia!” was sung by Yankees, Englishmen, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Portuguese, and Kanakas, as never sung before. Patriotic speeches followed, and the sentiment of devotion to our country was toasted: “three times three,” with a will, was given for the “land of the free and the home of the brave.” The Kanakas and Portuguese, although not understanding the “merits of the case,” entered into the sport with a hearty good-will, drinking their small-beer, occasionally exclaiming, “Hurra Fourth July! very good; I like s’pose he come every day.” And thus our last Fourth of July in a whaler passed. Although not making as much of a “splurge” as did many _patriots_ on that day, yet our hearts beat as true, and expressed as much devotion to our country.

From this time our good fortune, that had followed us during the cruise so far, appeared to gain. During the next thirty days we captured nearly three hundred barrels of oil, which was in itself a good season’s work. Fortune had at last crowned our efforts with success, and each day, as it passed, would hear some one exclaim, “One day less on board the old hooker!”

Nothing of peculiar interest transpired further during the cruise except an occasional meeting with a brother whaleman. We were all the time working our way to the eastward, preparatory to leaving the ground in September. On Tuesday, August 4th, spoke the “Rambler,” of Nantucket, Captain Potter. Soon after parting company, we lowered our boats and captured two large whales, they yielding us about one hundred and sixty barrels of oil. On the 25th of the same month we gammed with the “Hope,” of New Bedford, Captain Gifford. We found him quite ill, and hardly able to walk the deck; yet in this same feeble condition, a few days previous, when whales were raised, he had been placed in his boat, bolstered up with pillows, and actually captured a large whale. Nothing, he said, but his anxiety to get a good voyage induced him to do so.

The following day we again gammed with our old friends of the “Roscoe.” It will be remembered that we had with us a Kanaka from Simpson’s Island, whom we called “Dick Simpson.” As he did not wish to go to America, the captain told him that he might go into the first ship that we met that would take him to his island. An opportunity now presented itself in the “Roscoe,” and Dick availed himself of it. The captain gave him his discharge, and paid him in tobacco, pipes, calico, trinkets, etc.—the currency of “his land”—and Dick prepared to leave us. Nearly every one of the crew made him some present as a token of affection, for we all loved good-natured, obliging Dick Simpson. What if his skin was of a dingy hue, he had a brave, good heart, as we all could testify, and we could see that heart was heavy as he bade us each an adieu. The “pumps” of more than one warm-hearted sailor were “set going” on that occasion, but none were ashamed of them. Neither was he soon forgotten, but long remembered by us all.

We now, for a few days, turned our attention to fishing on a somewhat different scale than we had been. It is a peculiarity of the Japan sperm-whale fishing-ground that ships are surrounded nearly the whole season by albicore and bonita. These fish are easily caught in the following manner: the fisherman seats himself upon the weather rail, first provided with a line and hook, the _bait_ consisting of a small piece of white rag. This is fastened to the back of the hook in a peculiar manner, so as to resemble a pair of wings as much as possible. Then skimming the hook thus baited along the surface of the water as the ship goes through it, the foolish albicore or bonita sees it, and, thinking to make a meal off some unlucky flying-fish, makes a leap for it, and finds himself immediately landed upon deck. Often have we sat thus, and hauled them in as fast as we could drop the line and disengage the hook. As we before remarked, all hands, for two or three days, turned our attention to this kind of fishing, and we soon had about fifty barrels of them cleaned and salted for “liberty money” in the Sandwich Islands: they there command the highest price.

As there must be a “_first time_ for every thing,” so, we suppose, there must be a “last time” also. We had had our “first lowering,” and the time had now arrived when, we hoped, we were to have our “last.” The captain had informed us that, “just as soon as we got one hundred and fifty barrels more, we could sing ‘Homeward Bound.’” No one was dull now at masthead; all eyes were open; and the mastheads were double manned with volunteers every day. Not long was it to be before our wishes were gratified. On the morning of Friday, September 2, at about 8 o’clock, the old cry—never before so welcome—“T-h-e-r-e s-h-e b-l-o-w-s!” broke forth. The excitement that ensued beggars description. The day was beautiful; the whales were to leeward; and a nice breeze was sending us slowly through the water. Every circumstance was in our favor. The men knew the conditions of our being able to soon point our ship’s head homeward. We were now nearly four years from home. Many of us had heard no word—not even a _word_—from the dear friends we left behind. Every man looked “whale” as he stepped into the boat, and our young fourth mate—a boy in years, but a _man_ in soul—said to his crew as he left the ship, “Boys, you need not expect to put foot upon the Emily’s decks again till we have drawn the claret from one of those fellows.” And they did not. In less than two hours after lowering, two more of the leviathans of the deep had ceased to live. They were brought alongside and secured. The captain now called all hands aft, and complimented them upon the day’s success, proposed three cheers, which were given, and which made the old ship ring again: “And now,” said he, “let us have their jackets in on deck as soon as possible.”

The following Wednesday we stowed down the oil, and found we had one hundred and sixty barrels, ten more than we asked for, but which was “good for leeway.” The ship’s head was now pointed toward the Sandwich Islands, with all sail, every stitch we could carry, crowded upon her. Joy now reigned throughout the ship.

On Monday, October 10th, we sighted the islands of Maui and Molokai. The weather was thick and squally, and we stood off and on the land that night, and the following day steered down the passage between the two islands. At noon we came in sight of the anchorage and shipping, but, the wind dying away to a calm, we were not able to come to an anchor until 4 P.M. of the next day, Wednesday. It was hard to bear, lying in a calm, in sight of the anchorage, for twenty-four hours; but we had to submit. But we finally dropped our anchor, for the last time on foreign soil, in the harbor of Lahaina, island of Maui.

Strictly speaking, there is no harbor at this island. The anchorage is merely a roadstead, which is on the south side of it, and protects the shipping from the northerly gales, which are the most prevalent. In case of a sou’easter, however, ships must put to sea or be driven on the reef. We found about seventy sail at anchor, about sixty-five of them American whalemen.

As soon as the anchor was down we were visited by the harbor-master, accompanied by the seamen’s chaplain, Rev. Mr. Bishop. After the former had transacted his business, the latter addressed to us some very excellent remarks, distributed several copies of the “Seamen’s Friend,” and concluded by cordially inviting all to come and see him; also to attend Bethel on the Sabbath. The “Seamen’s Friend” is a sheet published at Honolulu, Wauhoo, by Father Damon, as he is familiarly called, and is devoted to the spiritual and temporal good of the sailor.

The town of Lahaina (pronounced _Lahena_) is beautifully situated on the level land skirting the sea, and extends along the shore a distance of two miles. Back from the shore it reaches to the foot of the mountains, thus lying hemmed in, as it were, by the sea in front and the mountains in the rear. The streets are lined with beautiful shade-trees on either side, which, in the hot weather, afford a cool and delicious retreat. The reef extends the whole length of the town, about forty rods from shore, and, but for a small opening or break in it, boats would be unable to land. In times of a southerly gale the breakers extend across this passage, and then it is extremely difficult and dangerous to go through. Many seamen have lost their lives in attempting to go through the passage at such times.

Immediately in front of the landing is a large fort, built of coral rock, yet not very formidable in its appearance. The black guns which peer over the dingy walls are of small calibre, and not capable of doing much execution. The site is a most excellent one, as the whole shipping lies within its range. It is guarded by a portion of the Hawaiian army, who look _malicious_ enough, though not much like _militia_. They have very little of the air and appearance of soldiers.

The main or principal street runs nearly east and west, and on it are situated the public stores, and most of the residences of the foreign population. We found, also, a large and commodious hotel on the north side of this street, the front commanding a view of the shipping, and the sides and back surrounded by a beautiful grove, altogether one of the most beautiful and lovely spots imaginable. This hotel is frequented by captains and officers of the various ships in port.

On the first street in the rear of the one above mentioned stands a native church. It is under the direction of American missionaries. Rambling about in search of something new, we accidentally came to a “Seamen’s Reading-room,” in the basement of the Bethel Church. Here we found late papers from all parts of the Union, and were soon lost to every thing but them. As evening drew nigh, it warned us that we must depart, but with more of a _home_ feeling than we had experienced for years. This reading-room is supported by voluntary contributions from seamen visiting Lahaina, and is under the direction and charge of Rev. Mr. Bishop, its founder. It is open from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M., and is situated in a delightfully cool and shady spot. It forms an excellent retreat from the scorching rays of the sun, and too much praise can not be awarded to Mr. B. for his kindness and liberality in establishing so useful and pleasant a place of resort for the sailor to pass his hours in instructive reading.

The form of government of the Sandwich Islands is too well known to need even a passing notice here. The king resides at Honolulu, which is the capital of the kingdom, but he has a palace in the eastern portion of this village, which is his residence while on this island, attending to matters of government. It is a large stone building, two stories, with a piazza at either end. It resembled a prison, we thought, more than a palace.

It is well known that the missionaries of the cross have been the humble instruments in the hands of God of doing much good at these islands. We were informed that nearly all the natives of influence throughout the kingdom had united with the Church of Christ, and were earnest in their efforts to promote the happiness and prosperity of the whole population. Yet many of them (the lower classes) cling to the superstitions of their ancestors, and, so long as they do, they must remain rude and ignorant. The climate appears to agree with foreign residents remarkably well. Although situated within the tropics, the northeast trade-winds, which almost constantly blow here, cool the atmosphere, and make it exceedingly genial and pleasant. Being situated nearly in the centre of the North Pacific, the temperature of the atmosphere is very regular, seldom varying more than five degrees for months; and we were informed by an old resident that he had not known the thermometer to vary ten degrees in years. It generally is about eighty in the shade.

Back from the village, upon a fine eminence, is a missionary settlement, called Lahainaluna, with schools for the education of the young. It is a beautiful location. In front may be seen the village of Lahaina and the shipping, with the island of Molokai in the distance; to the right, Wauhoo and Ranai present themselves to the eye of the beholder; on the left, Tahoorowa; and on a clear day the volcanic heights of Mount Roa, on the island of Owyhee, loom up in the far-off sky like a huge bank of black clouds threatening a tempest. Fresh breezes sweep down the gulleys of the mountains, laden with the perfumes of the orange, the banana, pine-apple, and mountain apple trees; the beautiful grounds laid out with taste: all these combined render Lahainaluna what its native name indicates—the Lovely Mountain Home.

The principal authority on the island of Maui (pronounced _Mowee_) is vested in a governor. He is assisted, however, by petty chiefs, or captains, who hold their office by his appointment. Subordinate to these are the _kikos_, or Kanaka policemen, who patrol the streets day and night. They are hated and despised by natives and foreigners, and frequently take advantage of Jack Tar by allowing him to do as he pleases for a time, and then, for some _trifling_ breach of the laws, arresting him, and taking him to the calaboose or lock-up.

Seamen are obliged to be clear of the beach at drum-beat—eight o’clock in the evening. No person is allowed to remain on shore over night, unless furnished with a proper pass by the captain of the port; and any one found on the beach, or in the town, with no pass, after the proper time, is marched to the calaboose, where he is kept in confinement till morning, and then mulcted in a pretty round sum for breaking the laws. This is generally paid by the captain, and afterward, with pretty good interest, deducted from Jack’s pay.

Saturday is a holiday with all hands in Lahaina. Every body and their wives procure horses on that day, great numbers of which are found here, and pass the whole day in horseback riding. Go where you will, in whatever street you like, you will see a gay cavalcade of equestrians approaching, male and female. The latter dress in the gayest of gay calico, the “yaller” being the predominant color, and, seating themselves astride a horse in the same manner as the men, with six or eight feet of the calico swinging on each side, galloping through the streets, they present a rather novel appearance.

The Hawaiians appear to have queer ideas of justice. What is crime when committed by a foreigner, can be done with impunity by a native. For instance: a native is allowed to gallop through the streets at the highest rate of speed to which he can urge his horse, while a foreigner must content himself with riding on a slow walk, except in the outskirts of town. We were witness to an occurrence of this kind one day. An officer belonging to one of the ships in port was mounted upon a fractious horse, and, while passing near the grand square, the animal became frightened, and commenced his antics, endeavoring to run. It was with difficulty that the rider was enabled to retain his seat; and several kikos, perceiving what was the matter, ran and caught the horse by the bridle, and ordered the officer to dismount, telling him he had broken the laws against fast riding, and must go to jail or calaboose. This he refused to do, but offered to give bail for his appearance before the police magistrate the next morning to answer to the charge. This was accordingly done; and on the trial the following morning, he was fined. Not a day passed while we were on shore that we did not see natives riding at a high rate of speed through the principal streets of Lahaina.

On Sunday morning, October 16th, the packet, with the mail from Honolulu, arrived. We hastened on shore, and were met by the captain, who reached forth a letter—_the first in four years_—which was immediately recognized by the superscription. It is useless to attempt describing our feelings. They who have been “in like circumstances” can understand them—no others can. As the boat was passing from shore to ship, thousands of thoughts rushed through our mind, coming one upon another like a hurricane. Break the seal there and then we durst not. No; we would wait till we got in some quiet corner on board, and there, undisturbed by any thing, first learn the good or bad news. We felt that during the long interval of four years many changes must necessarily have taken place; perhaps some of those we most loved had been taken away, and we would never more behold their face this side heaven. But we remembered that all things were in the hands of a good and wise GOD, and in Him we could trust. Arriving on board, we hastened to a quiet nook, and there, with trembling hand, broke the seal. What was our happiness to read “all are well,” and that the rover was not forgotten, but that prayers daily ascended to a Throne of Grace that he might be returned in safety to his home. We read and reread the precious words, and our heart went out in thanksgiving to that Almighty Power who had thus far brought us on our dangerous voyage. In the afternoon we attended Bethel, but fear that the sermon did not profit us much, as our thoughts would wander, in spite of us, to that home “far over the deep blue sea.”

The productions of these islands are similar to those of most tropical climes. Grapes are raised in great abundance and of a superior flavor. The wine made from them is said to be excellent, especially for medicinal purposes, in comparison with other wines. Melons of all descriptions are raised here in great abundance, and are not equaled, we think, by any raised on Yankee soil. The attention of the more enterprising natives and half-breeds has of late been turned to the cultivation of sugar and cotton, and we predict the time to be not far distant when they will be the staple productions of the islands.

While at Lahaina we formed the acquaintance of Captain M‘Culloch, then master of the clipper whaler “Niagara,” of Fairhaven. He related to us an incident in which he figured somewhat conspicuously, and we take the liberty of giving it here for the benefit of the reader. It will serve to show that the whaleman has dangers with which to contend aside from those connected with killing the monster of the deep.

While the “Sharon,” of New Bedford, Captain Morris, was cruising near the King Mill Group, whales were raised, and the boats sent in pursuit. Captain M., two Kanakas, and a boy remained on board. For some time after the boats left the captain remained at masthead, watching the boats and whales. The boy then went to masthead, leaving the two natives on deck, and soon after the captain came down. He was immediately attacked by the natives, murdered, and his body cut in small pieces, and _thrown to the hogs_. On seeing this, the boy immediately went to work and cut all the running rigging, thereby disabling the ship, and preventing her from being run ashore, as the natives wished to do, being near to land. Those in the boats, seeing the condition of things, and rightly judging something to be wrong, immediately gave up the chase and returned. When within hailing distance, the natives cried out to them that, if they came on board, they were dead men, at the same time holding up to their view portions of the captain’s dead body. The boats retired a short distance to consult as to the best manner of retaking the ship. Mr. M‘C., at that time third officer of the vessel, offered to board her if six men would volunteer to accompany him; but, among twenty-four, none appeared willing to make the attempt. In justice to them, however, it is proper to state that it was more a want of presence of mind than of bravery that deterred them. He persuaded, advised, coaxed, and threatened, but all to no purpose. He then offered to go if one could be found willing to accompany him, but a panic appeared to have seized hold upon them, and not one would venture. Knowing that something must be done, and that speedily, he said, “It was as well to die on board the ship, fighting in her defense, as to fall into the hands of the natives on shore, and be butchered by them.” Divesting himself of his clothing, he took a large boat-knife, and, as it was nearly dark, plunged overboard, and cautiously swam for the stern of the vessel. This he reached undiscovered. Fortunately, a rope was towing over the stern, which he seized, and by almost superhuman efforts, succeeded in swinging himself into the cabin windows. Groping about, he found a pair of heavy horse-pistols, and, while examining one of them, accidentally dropped it. The natives heard the noise, and rushed into the cabin. Mr. M‘C. knocked the foremost one down with the remaining pistol; the other being armed with a cutlass, a fierce and savage fight ensued in the dark. It ended in the Kanaka being slain, Mr. M‘C. receiving a severe wound in the thigh. After having securely bound the one stunned by the blow from the pistol, he went on deck, and made signals for the boats to come alongside. It was some time, however, before they ventured to do so, as they thought that Mr. M‘C. was murdered, and the natives were endeavoring to allure them to a similar fate; but on hearing his well-known voice they immediately came on board. All sail was now made upon the ship, and she was soon clear of the land. The prisoner was handed over to the authorities of the next port they visited, tried, and executed for piracy on the high seas.

We accidentally learned that a fellow-townsman was lying sick at the hospital, and hastened to visit him. On arriving, we inquired for him, and were led to his bedside. It proved to be a Mr. Stoddard, who had, like ourself, been trying life in a whaler. He went one season in the “Arctic,” and, on his return to Lahaina, finding his health completely shattered, procured his discharge, and was placed in the hospital, there to die, away from home and friends. We found his case to be one demanding great sympathy. For one year had he been there with that deceitful disease, consumption. During this time he had heard no word from the loved ones at home, nor met with any one from that locality. How eagerly did he grasp our hands, and, although we had never been acquainted with each other at home, yet we felt like brothers. He said this meeting was to him the brightest spot of his life; that never before had he so longed to see any one from home as while he had been in the hospital. He was very pale and thin, and fast wasting away, yet very patient and resigned. Trusting in the blessed Jesus for a home beyond the grave, where shall be “no more sorrow, sickness, or death,” he cheerfully submitted to his sufferings, believing they would “work out for him a far more exceeding weight of glory.” He spoke of his physician, Dr. Dow, in terms of the highest praise; also of the Rev. Mr. Bishop—of the words of comfort and consolation he had poured into his wretched and distracted heart—of the feeling and beautiful manner in which he had pointed him to the “Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world”—of his daily visits, always bringing consolation. Handing us a Bible, well worn, he said, “Take this book, and give it to my parents. Tell them that, although I shall never more see them on earth, yet I trust and pray that I may meet them in heaven. Tell them I die firm in the Christian faith; that I have gone to Jesus with my sins, and he has taken them all from me, and blessed me; that my whole trust is in Him; that my peace is made with GOD, and I long to be released from this world of sin and death to dwell with Jesus evermore.” His voice appeared to fail him; and, as we extended to him our hand, with tearful eyes, we felt that we were clasping his for the last time. As we turned to depart, our ears caught these words issuing from his lips:

“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds In a believer’s ear.”

We bade him farewell, and returned to the ship with a sad and heavy heart. We felt to thank GOD that we were yet in health and strength, and to ask Him to return us to our friends at home safely. On reaching the hospital the following morning, we found that Stoddard had peacefully departed during the preceding night. He “fell sweetly asleep in Jesus.”

Much has been written and said about the shark, and, to speak plainly, many falsehoods told. It has become a common idea that _all_ sharks will devour a man as soon as look at him, if they get a chance; but a more delusive one was never entertained. Of the many different varieties of sharks, there are but two that will attack a man in the water. These are the _blue_ shark, and the _ground_, or _shovel-nosed_ shark. No more danger need be apprehended from the common brown shark than from a porpoise. We have often seen a Kanaka jump overboard in a perfectly calm day, and swim after them with a sheath-knife, endeavoring to stab them, but Johnny Shark would keep out of his reach. And whenever we had a whale alongside, the sharks would be around in great numbers, and yet never touch the boat-steerer, who was overboard on the whale. But of the blue and ground sharks, the farther one keeps from them the better for his safety. On the night of Sunday, October 23d, one of the officers of the “South Boston,” while walking the deck, made a misstep and fell overboard. Hearing the splash, some of the crew jumped into the boat alongside, and hauled under the stern, where the man had fallen; but no sign or trace was to be seen of him. He was an excellent swimmer, but, in all probability, was seized by one of the numerous ground-sharks that prowl round the shipping in port. The water in Lahaina is very clear, the bottom being distinctly visible at the depth of twenty fathoms, or one hundred and twenty feet; and, although every search was made the next morning at daylight, the body could nowhere be found. No doubt now remained but he had fallen a victim to the rapacity of the voracious ground-shark.

On the afternoon of this Sabbath we attended service in the Kanaka church. It was filled with natives of both sexes, intermingled with whites, of whom here and there might be seen one. The interior of the church is fashioned similar to our American ones—very tasty and neat, without being gaudy. In the morning the sermon is delivered in the native tongue; in the afternoon, in English.

The natives of these islands, like all others who have been visited by Europeans, have suffered from the dreadful ravages of diseases brought by the latter. During our stay at Lahaina, the small-pox raged with great violence there and at Honolulu. Hundreds of the natives were swept off, and, what appeared very singular, scarcely a white man was attacked, and none died from it, although hundreds of seamen were daily exposed.

In the following chapter we give a “legend,” as related to us by an old native whose acquaintance we formed, probably the “oldest inhabitant;” and then, with the reader, we will be “homeward bound.”