Title: The Call Of The South (1908)
Author: Louis Becke




CHAPTER I ~ PAUL, THE DIVER

"Feeling any better to-day, Paul?"

"Guess I'm getting round," and the big, bronzed-faced man raised
his eyes to mine as he lay under the awning on the after deck of his
pearling lugger. I sat down beside him and began to talk.

A mile away the white beach of a little, land-locked bay shimmered under
the morning sun, and the drooping fronds of the cocos hung listless and
silent, waiting for the rising of the south-east trade.

"Paul," I said, "it is very hot here. Come on shore with me to the
native village, where it is cooler, and I will make you a big drink of
lime-juice."

I helped him to rise--for he was weak from a bad attack of New Guinea
fever--and two of our native crew assisted him over the side into my
whaleboat. A quarter of an hour later we were seated on mats under the
shade of a great wild mango tree, drinking lime-juice and listening to
the lazy hum of the surf upon the reef, and the soft _croo, croo_ of
many "crested" pigeons in the branches above.

The place was a little bay in Callie Harbour on Admiralty Island in the
South Pacific; and Paul Fremont was one of our European divers. I was in
charge of the supply schooner which was tender to our fleet of pearling
luggers, and was the one man among us to whom the silent, taciturn Paul
would talk--sometimes.

And only sometimes, for usually Paul was too much occupied in his work
to say more than "Good-morning, boss," or "Good night," when, after he
had been disencumbered of his diving gear, he went aft to rest and smoke
his pipe. But one day, however, he went down in twenty-six fathoms,
stayed too long, and was brought up unconscious. The mate and I saw the
signals go up for assistance, hurried on board his lugger, and were just
in time to save his life.

Two days later he came on board the tender, shook hands in his silent,
undemonstrative way, and held out for my acceptance an old octagon
American fifty dollar gold piece.

"Got a gal, boss?" "I admitted that I had.

"Pure white, I mean. One thet you like well enough to marry?"

"I mean to try, Paul."

"In Samoa?"

"No--Australia."

"Guess I'd like you to give her this 'slug' I got it outer the wreck of
a ship that was sunk off Galveston in the 'sixties,' in the war."

It would have hurt him had I declined the gift. So I thanked him, and he
nodded silently, filled his pipe and went back to the _Montiara_.

Nearly a year passed before we met again, for his lugger and six others
went to New Guinea; and our next meeting was at Callie Harbour, where
I found him down with malarial fever. Again I became his doctor, and
ordered him to lie up.

He nodded.

"Guess I'll have ter, boss. But I jest hate loafin' around and seein'
the other divers bringin' up shell in easy water." For he was receiving
eighty pounds per month wages--diving or no diving--and hated to be
idle.

"Paul," I said, as we lay stretched out under the wild mango tree,
"would you mind telling me about that turn-up you had with the niggers
at New Ireland, six years ago."

"Ef you like, boss." Then he added that he did not care about talking
much at any time, as he was a mighty poor hand at the jaw-tackle.

"We were startin' tryin' some new ground between New Hanover and the
North Cape of New Ireland. There were only two luggers, and we had for
our store-ship a thirty-ton cutter. There were two white divers besides
me and one Manila man, and our crews were all natives of some sort
or another--Tokelaus, Manahikians and Hawaiians. The skipper of the
storeship was a Dutchman--a chicken-hearted swab, who turned green at
the sight of a nigger with a bunch of spears, or a club in his hand.
He used to turn-in with a brace of pistols in his belt and a Winchester
lying on the cabin table. At sea he would lose his funk, but whenever we
dropped anchor and natives came aboard his teeth would begin to chatter,
and he would just jump at his own shadder.

"We anchored in six fathoms, and in an hour or two we came across a good
patch of black-edge shell, and we began to get the boats and pumps ready
to start regular next morning. As I was boss, I had moored the cutter in
a well-sheltered nook under a high bluff, and the luggers near to her.
So far we had not seen any sign of natives--not even smoke--but knew
that there was a big village some miles away, out o' sight of us, an'
that the niggers were a bad lot, and would have a try at cuttin' off if
they saw a slant.

"Early next morning it set in to rain, with easterly squalls, and before
long I saw that there was like to be a week of it, and that we should
have to lie by and wait until it settled. About noon we sighted a dozen
white lime-painted canoes bearing down on us, and Horn, the Dutchman,
began to turn green as usual, and wanted me to heave up and clear out.
I set on him and said I wanted the niggers to come alongside, an' hev a
good look at us--they would see that we were a hard nut to crack if they
meant mischief.

"They came alongside, six or eight greasy-haired bucks in each
canoe--and asked for terbacker and knives in exchange for some pigs and
yams. I let twenty or so of 'em come aboard, bought their provisions,
and let 'em have a good look around. Their chief was a fat, bloated
feller, with a body like a barrel, and his face pitted with small-pox.
He told me that he was boss of all the place around us, and had some big
plantations about a mile back in the bush, just abreast of us, and that
he would let me have all the food I wanted. In five days or so, he said,
we should have fine weather for diving, and he and his crowd would help
me all they could.

"About a quarter of a mile away was a rocky little island of about five
acres in extent It had a few heavy trees on it, but no scrub, and there
were some abandoned fishermen's huts on the beach. I asked the fat hog
if I could use it as a shore station to overhaul our boats and diving
gear when necessary, and he agreed to let me use it as long as I liked
for three hundred sticks of terbacker and two muskets.

"They went off on shore again to the plantations, and in a little while
we saw smoke ascendin'--they were cookin' food, and repairing their
huts. Later on in the day they sent me a canoe load of yams, taro, and
other stuff for the men, and asked me to come ashore and look at the
village. I went, fur I knew that they would not try on any games so
soon.

"There were, in addition to the bucks, a lot of women and children
there, makin' thatch, cookin', and repairin' the pig-proof fencin'. I
stayed a bit, and then came on board again, an' we made snug for the
night.

"Next morning we landed on the island, repaired two of the huts, and
started mendin' sails, overhauling the boats, and doin' such work that
it was easier to do on shore than on board. Of course we kep' our arms
handy, and old Horn kep' a good watch on board--he dassent put foot on
shore himself--said he was skeered o' fever.

"The natives sent us plenty of food, and a good many of 'em loafed
around on the island, and some on board the luggers and cutter, cadgin'
fur terbacker and biscuit Of course they always carried their clubs and
spears with 'em, as is usual in New Ireland, but they were quiet and
civil enough. Every day canoes were passin' from where we lay to the
main village, and returnin' with other batches of bucks and women all
takin' spells at work; an' there was any amount o' drum beating and _duk
duk_{*} dancin', and old Horn shivered in his boots swearin' they were
comin' to wipe us out But my native crews and I and the other white
divers were used to the nigger customs at such times, and although
we kep' a good watch ashore and afloat, none o' us were afraid of any
trouble comin'.

     * The duk duk dance of Melanesia is merely a blackmailing
     ceremony by the men to obtain food from the women and the
     uninitiated.

"On the fifth night, I, another white diver, named Docky Mason, his
Samoan wife, and a Manahiki sailor named 'Star' were sleeping on shore
in one of the huts. In another hut were three or four New Ireland
niggers, who had brought us some fish and were going away again in the
mornin'.

"About ten o'clock the sky became as black as ink--a heavy blow was
comin' on, and we just had time to stow our loose gear up tidy, when the
wind came down from between the mountains with a roar like thunder, and
away went the roofs of the huts, and with it nearly everything around us
that was not too heavy to be carried away. My own boat, which was lying
on the beach, was lifted up bodily, sent flyin' into the water, and
carried out to sea.

"We tried to make out the cutter's and luggers' lights, but could see
nothing and every second the wind was yellin' louder and louder like
forty thousand cats gone mad, and the air was filled with sticks,
leaves, and sand, and I had a mighty great fear for my little fleet; fur
three miles away to the west, there was a long stretch o' reefs, an' I
was afraid they had dragged and would get mussed up.

"Thet's jest what did happen--though they cleared the reefs by the skin
of their teeth. The moment they began to drag, all three slipped. The
luggers stood away under the lee of New Ireland, stickin' in to the
land, and tryin' to bring to for shelter, but they were a hundred miles
away from me, down the coast, before they could bring-to and anchor,
for the blow had settled into a hurricane, and raised such a fearful sea
that they had to heave-to for twenty-four hours. It was two weeks before
we met again, after they had had to tow and 'sweep' back to my little
island, against a dead calm and a strong current, gettin' a whiff of a
land breeze at night now an' agin', which let 'em use their canvas. As
for the cutter, she ran before it for New Britain, and brought up at
Matupi in Blanche Bay, two hundred miles away, where old Horn knew
there was a white settlement of Germans--his own kidney. He was a
white-livered old swine, but a good sailor-man--as far as any man who
says 'Ja' for 'Yes' goes.

"When daylight came my mates and I set to work to straighten up.

"Docky Mason's native wife--Tia--was a 'whole waggon with a yaller dog
under the team'. She first of all made us some hot coffee, and gave us a
rousin' breakfast; then she made the New Ireland bucks--who were wantin'
to swim to the mainland--turn to and put a new roof of coco-nut thatch
over our hut, although it was still blowin' a ragin' gale. My! thet gal
was a wonder! She hed eyes like stars, an' red lips an' shinin' pearly
teeth, an' a tongue like a whip-lash when she got mad, an' Docky Mason
uster let her talk to him as if he was a nigger--an' say nuthin'--excep'
givin' a foolish laugh and then slouchin' off. And yet she was as gentle
as a lamb to any of us fellows when we got fever, or had gone down under
more'n twenty fathoms, and was hauled up three parts dead and chokin'.

"Well, boss, we got to straights at last, although it was blowin' as
hard as ever. We had a lot o' gear on shore in that native house, for I
was intendin' to beach the cutter an' give her copper a scrubbin' before
we started divin' regular.

"There was near on a ton o' twist terbacker in tierces (which we used
fur tradin' with the niggers), a ton o' biscuit in fifty pound tins,
boxes o' red an' yaller seed beads, an' knives an' axes, an' a case
o' dynamite, an' heaps o' things that was a direct invitation to the
niggers, an' a challenge ter the Almighty to hev our silly throats cut.
And those four or five bucks, whilst Tia was hustlin' them around, was
jest takin' stock as they worked.

"By sunfall the wind an' sea in the bay had gone down a bit; an' the
bucks said that they would swim on shore (their canoe had been smashed
in the night) and bring us some food early in the mornin'. I gave 'em
a bottle o' Hollands, an' my kind regards for the old barrelled-belly
swine of a chief, some terbacker fur themselves; and then, after they
had gone, looked to our Winchesters and pistols, which the bucks hadn't
seen, fur we always kept 'em outer sight, under our sleepin' mats.

"'Paulo,' sez Tia to me, speakin' in Samoan (an' cussin' in English),
'you an' Docky an' "Star" are a lot o' blamed fools! You orter hev
shot all those bucks ez soon ez they hed finished. Didn't you say that,
"Star"?'

"'Star' had said 'Yes' to her, but being an unobtrusive sorter o'
Kanaka, he hadn't said nuthin' to us--thinkin' we knew better'n him what
ter do.

"We kep' a good watch all that day an' the nex' day, and then at sunset
two bucks in a canoe came off, bringing us six cooked pigeons from the
chief, with a message that he would come an' see us in a day or two, and
bring men to build us better houses to live in until the luggers and the
cutter came back.

"We collared the two bucks and tied 'em up, and then Tia made one of
'em eat part of a pigeon--she standin' over him with a Winchester at his
ear. He ate it, an' in ten minutes he was tyin' himself up in knots, and
was a dead nigger in another quarter of an hour. The pigeons were all
poisoned.

"We kep' the other nigger alive an' told him that if he would tell us
what was a-goin' on we'd let him off, and set him ashore, free.

"'At dawn to-morrow,' says he, 'Baian' (the fat old chief) thought to
find you all dead, because of the poisoned pigeons sent to you. And
then he meant to take all the good things you have here, and set up your
heads in his _duk duk_ house.'

"Before daylight came, Docky Mason an' 'Star' an' me hed fixed up things
all serene ter give Baian and his cannibals a doin'. Fust ev all--to
show our prisoner that we meant business, Tia held up his right hand,
an' Docky sent a Winchester bullet through it, an' told him that he
would send one through his skull ef he didn't do what he was told.

"Then we took two empty one gallon colza oil tins, and filled 'em with
dynamite, tamped it down tight, and then ran short fuses through the
corks, and carried 'em down to the place where our prisoner said Baian
and his crowd would land. It was a little bay, lined on each side by
pretty high, ragged coral boulders, covered with creepers. We stowed the
tins in readiness, and then brought our prisoner down, and told him
what to do when the time came. I guess thet thet nigger knew thet ef he
didn't play straight he was a dead coon. Tia sat down jest behind him,
and every now and then touched his backbone with the muzzle ev her
pistol--jest ter show him she was keepin' awake. At the same time he
wasn't unwillin', for he hed told us thet he and his dead mate were not
Baian's men--they were slaves he had captured from a town he had raided
somewhere near North Cape, and they were liable to be killed and eaten
at any time if Baian's crowd ran short of pig meat or turtle.

"A little bit higher up, Docky Mason, 'Star' an' me, planted ourselves
with our Winchesters, an' one of our boats' whaler's bomb guns, which
fired four pounds of slugs and deer shot, mixed up--the sorter thing,
boss, thet you an' me may find mighty handy here in this very place, if
we get rushed sudden. We made a charcoal fire, and then frayed out the
ends of the dynamite fuses so thet they would light quickly.

"When daylight came, we caught sight of nigh on fifty canoes, all
crammed with niggers, paddlin' like blazes to where we was cached, but
making no noise. Even if they hed we would not hev heard it, fur the
wind and the surf beatin' on the reef would hev drowned it.

"On they came and rushed their canoes into the little cove, four
abreast, and Tia prodded our buck in the back, and told him to stand up
and talk to Baian, who was in one of the leadin' canoes.

"Up he jumps.

"'Oh, Baian, Baian, great Baian,' he called, 'the two white men are dead
in their house, and we have the woman bound hand and foot.'

"'Good,' said Baian with a fat chuckle, as he put one leg over the
gunwale of his canoe to step out, and the next moment I put a bullet
through him, and then Docky Mason lit the first charge o' dynamite, and
slings it down, right inter the middle of the crowded canoes, and before
it went off he sent the second one after it.

"Boss, I hev seen some dynamite explosions in my time--especially when I
hev hed to blow up wrecks--but I hev never seen anything like thet. The
two shots killed over thirty niggers, wounded as many more, and stunned
a lot, who were drowned. Those who were not hurt swam out of the cove,
and neither Docky nor me had the heart to shoot any of 'em--though we
might hev picked off a couple of dozen afore they got outer range.

"Before we could stop him our prisoner jumped down among the dead and
wounded, got a long knife, an' in ten seconds he had Baian's' head off,
and held it up to us, grinning like a cat, on'y not so nice, ez he hed
jet black, betel-nut stained teeth, and red lips like a piece ev raw
beef.

"We hed no more trouble with the niggers after thet turn-up, you can bet
yer life.

"The buck stayed with us until the luggers came back, and a few days
after we landed him at his own village--ez rich ez Jay Gould, for we
gave him a musket with powder and ball, a cutlass, half a dozen pounds
ev red beads, and two hundred sticks of terbacker. I guess thet thet
nigger was able to buy himself all the wives he wanted, and be a 'big
Injun' fur the end of his days."




CHAPTER II ~ THE OLD SEA LIFE

One Sunday morning--when I was about to leave the dear old city of
Sydney for an unpremeditated and long, long absence in cold northern
climes, I went for a farewell stroll around the Circular Quay, and,
standing on some high ground on the east side, looked down on the mass
of shipping below, flying the flags of all nations, and ranging from
a few hundred to ten thousand tons. Mail steamers, deep sea tramps,
"freezers," colliers--all crowded together, and among them but _one_
single sailing vessel--a Liverpool barque of 1,000 tons, loading wool.
She looked lost, abandoned, out of place, and my heart went out to her
as my eyes travelled from her shapely lines and graceful sheer, to her
lofty spars, tapering yards, and curving jibboom, the end of the latter
almost touching the stern rail of an ugly bloated-looking German tramp
steamer of 8,000 tons. On that very spot where I stood I, when a
boy, had played at the foot of lofty trees--now covered by hideous
ill-smelling wool stores--and had seen lying at the Circular Quay fifty
or sixty noble full-rigged ships and barques, many brigs and schooners,
and but _one_ steamer, a handsome brig-rigged craft, the _Avoca_, the
monthly P. and O. boat, which ran from Sydney to Melbourne to connect
with a larger ship.

Round the point were certainly a few other steamers, old-fashioned
heavily-rigged men-of-war, generally paddle-wheel craft; and, out of
sight, in Darling Harbour, a mile away, were others--coasters--none of
them reaching five hundred tons, and all either barque- or brig-rigged,
as was then the fashion.

And they all, sailers as well as the few steamers, were manned by
_sailor-men_, not by gangs of foreign paint-scrubbers, who generally
form a steamer's crew of the present day--men who could no more handle a
bit of canvas than a cow could play the Wedding March--in fact there are
thousands of men nowadays earning wages on British ships as A.B.'s who
have never touched canvas except in the shape of tarpaulin hatch covers,
and whom it would be highly dangerous to put at the wheel of a sailing
ship--they would make a wreck of her in any kind of a breeze in a few
minutes.

In my boyhood days, nearly all the ships that came into Sydney Harbour
flying British colours were manned by men of British blood. Foreigners,
as a rule, were not liked by shipmasters, and their British shipmates in
the fo'c'stle resented their presence. One reason of this was that they
would always "ship" at a lower rate of wage than Englishmen, and were
clannish. I have known of captains of favourite clipper passenger ships,
trading between London and the colonies, declining to ship a foreigner,
even an English-speaking Dane or Scandinavian, who make good sailor-men,
and are quiet, sober, and hardworking. Nowadays it is difficult to find
any English deep-sea ship or steamer, in which half of the hands for'ard
are not foreigners of some sort. And now practically the whole coasting
mercantile marine of the Australian colonies is manned by Germans,
Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians.

When I was a young man I sailed in ships in the South Sea trade which
had carried the same crew, voyage after voyage, for years, and there
was a distinct feeling of comradeship existing between officers and
crew that does not now exist. I well remember one gallant ship, the
_All Serene_ (a happy name), which was for ten years in the
Sydney-China trade. She was about the first colonial vessel to adopt
double-top-gallant yards, and many wise-heads prophesied all sorts of
dire mishaps from the innovation. On this ship (she was full rigged) was
a crew of nineteen men, and the majority of them had sailed in her for
eight years, although her captain was a bit of a "driver". But they got
good wages, good food, and had a good ship under their feet--a ship with
a crack record as a fast sailer.

In contrast to the _All Serene_, was a handsome barque I once sailed
in as a passenger from Sydney to New Caledonia, where she was to load
nickel ore for Liverpool. Her captain and three mates were Britishers,
and smart sailor-men enough, the steward was a Chileno, the bos'un a
Swede; carpenter a Mecklenburger joiner (who, when told to repair the
fore-scuttle, which had been damaged by a heavy sea, did not know where
it was situated), the sailmaker a German, and of the twelve A.B.'s and
O.S.'s only one--a man of sixty-five years of age, was a Britisher; the
rest were of all nationalities. Three of them were Scandinavians and
were good sailor-men, the others were almost useless, and only fit to
scrub paint-work, and hardly one could be trusted at the wheel. The cook
was a Martinique nigger, and was not only a good cook, but a thorough
seaman, and he had the utmost contempt for what he called "dem mongrels
for'ard," especially those who were Dagoes. The captain and officers
certainly had reason to knock the crew about, for during an electrical
storm one night the ship was visited by St. Elmo's fire, and the Dagoes
to a man refused duty, and would not go aloft, being terrified out
of their wits at the dazzling globes of fire running along the yards,
hissing and dancing, and illuminating the ocean for miles. They bolted
below, rigged up an altar and cross with some stump ends of candles, and
began to pray. Exasperated beyond endurance, the captain, officers, two
Norwegians, the nigger cook and I, after having shortened canvas, "went"
for them, knocked the religious paraphernalia to smithereens, and drove
them on deck.

The nigger cook was really a devout Roman Catholic, but his seaman's
soul revolted at their cowardice, and he so far lost his temper as to
seize a Portuguese by his black curly hair, throw him down, tear open
his shirt, and seize a leaden effigy of St. Jago do Compostella, which
he wore round his neck, and thrust it into his mouth. In after years
I saw Captain "Bully" Hayes do the same thing, also with a Portuguese
sailor; but Hayes made the man actually swallow the little image--after
he had rolled it into a rough ball--saying that if St James was so
efficient to externally protect the wearer from dangers of the sea, that
he could do it still better in the stomach, where he (the saint) would
feel much warmer.

The barque, a month or so after I left her in Noumea, sailed from T'chio
in New Caledonia, and was never heard of again. She was overmasted, and
I have no doubt but that she capsized, and every one on board perished.
Had she been manned by English sailors, she would have reached her
destination in safety, for the captain and officers knew her faults and
that she was a tricky ship to sail with an unreliable crew.

In many ships in which I have sailed, in my younger days, no officer
considered it _infra dig_. for him, when not on watch, to go for'ard and
listen to some of the hands spinning yarns, especially when the subject
of their discourse turned upon matters of seamanship, the eccentricities
either of a ship herself or of her builders, etc. This unbending from
official dignity on the part of an officer was rarely abused by the
men--especially by the better-class sailor-man. He knew that "Mr.
Smith" the chief officer who was then listening to his yarns and perhaps
afterwards spinning one himself, would in a few hours become a different
man when it was his watch on deck, and probably ask Tom Jones, A.B.,
what the blazes he meant by crawling aft to relieve the wheel like
an old woman with palsy. And Jones, A.B., would grin with respectful
diffidence, hurry his steps and bear no malice towards his superior.

Such incidents never occur now. There is no feeling of comradeship
between officer and "Jack". Each distrusts the other.

I have not had much experience of steamers in the South Sea trade,
except as a passenger--most of my voyages having been made in sailing
craft, but on one occasion my firm had to charter a steamer for six
months, owing to the ship of which I was supercargo undergoing extensive
repairs.

The steamer, in addition to a general cargo, also carried 500 tons
of coal for the use of a British warship, engaged in "patrolling" the
Solomon Islands, and I was told to "hurry along". The ship's company
were all strangers to me, and I saw at once I should not have a pleasant
time as supercargo. The crew were mostly alleged Englishmen, with a
sprinkling of foreigners, and the latter were a useless, lazy lot of
scamps. The engine-room staff were worse, and the captain and mate
seemed too terrified of them to bring them to their bearings. They (the
crew) were a bad type of "wharf rats," and showed such insolence to the
captain and mate that I urged both to put some of them in irons for a
few days. The second mate was the only officer who showed any spirit,
and he and I naturally stood together, agreeing to assist each other
if matters became serious, for the skipper and mate were a thoroughly
white-livered pair.

Just off San Cristoval, the firemen came to me, and asked me to sell
them a case of Hollands gin. I refused, and said one bottle was enough
at a time. They threatened to break into the trade-room, and help
themselves. I said that they would do so at their own peril--the first
man that stepped through the doorway would get hurt. They retired,
cursing me as a "mean hound". The skipper said nothing. He, I am glad to
say, was not an Englishman, though he claimed to be. He was a Dane.

Arriving at a village on the coast of San Cristoval, where I had to
land stores for a trader, we found a rather heavy surf on, and the crew
refused to man a boat and take me on shore, on the plea that it was too
dangerous; a native boat's crew would have smiled at the idea of danger,
and so also would any white sailor-man who was used to surf work.

Two days later, through their incapacity, they capsized a boat by
letting her broach-to in crossing a reef, and a hundred pounds' worth of
trade goods were lost.

When we met the cruiser for whom the coals were destined, the second
mate and I told the commander in the presence of our own skipper that we
considered the latter unfit to have command of the steamer.

"Then put the mate in charge, if you consider your captain is
incapable," said the naval officer.

"The mate is no better," I said, "he is as incapable as the captain."

"Then the second mate is the man."

"I cannot navigate, sir," said the second mate.

The naval commander drew me aside, and we took "sweet counsel" together.
Then he called our ruffianly scallywags of a crew on to the main deck,
eyed them up and down, and ignoring our captain, asked me how many pairs
of handcuffs were on board.

"Two only," I replied.

"Then I'll send you half a dozen more. Clap 'em on to some of these
fellows for a week, until they come to their senses."

In half an hour the second mate and I had the satisfaction of seeing
four firemen and four A.B.'s in irons, which they wore for a week,
living on biscuit and water.

A few weeks later I engaged, on my own responsibility, ten good native
seamen, and for the rest of the voyage matters went fairly well, for the
captain plucked up courage, and became valorous when I told him that my
natives would make short work of their white shipmates, if the latter
again became mutinous.

Against this experience I have had many pleasant ones. In one dear old
brig, in which I sailed as supercargo for two years, we carried a double
crew--white men and natives of Rotumah Island, and a happier ship never
spread her canvas to the winds of the Pacific. This was purely because
the officers were good men, the hands--white and native--good seamen,
cheerful and obedient--not the lazy, dirty, paint-scrubbers one too
often meets with nowadays, especially on cheaply run big four-masted
sailing ships, flying the red ensign of Old England.




CHAPTER III ~ THE BLIND MAN OF ADMIRALTY ISLAND

We had had a stroke--or rather a series of strokes--of very bad luck.
Our vessel, the _Metaris_, had been for two months cruising among
the islands of what is now known as the Bismarck Archipelago, in the
Northwestern Pacific. We had twice been on shore, once on the coast
of New Ireland, and once on an unknown and uncharted reef between that
island and St. Matthias Island. Then, on calling at one of our trading
stations at New Hanover where we intended to beach the vessel for
repairs, we found that the trader had been killed, and of the station
house nothing remained but the charred centre-post--it had been reduced
to ashes. The place was situated on a little palm-clad islet not three
hundred acres in extent, and situated a mile or two from the mainland,
and abreast of a village containing about four hundred natives, under
whose protection our trader and his three Solomon Island labourers were
living, as the little island belonged to them, and we had placed the
trader there on account of its suitability, and also because the man
particularly wished to be quite apart from the village, fearing that his
Solomon Islanders would get themselves into trouble with the people.

From the excited natives, who boarded us even before we had dropped
anchor, we learned that about a month after we had left poor Chantrey
on his little island a large party of marauding St. Matthias Island
savages, in ten canoes, had suddenly appeared and swooped down upon
the unfortunate white man and his labourers and slaughtered all four of
them; then after loading their canoes with all the plunder they could
carry, they set fire to the house and Chantrey's boat, and made off
again within a few hours.

This was a serious blow to us; for not only had we to deplore the cruel
death of one of our best and most trusted traders, but Chantrey had a
large stock of trade goods, a valuable boat, and had bought over five
hundred pounds' worth of coconut oil and pearl-shell from the New
Hanover natives,--all this had been consumed. However, it was of no use
for us to grieve, we had work to do that was of pressing necessity,
for the _Metaris_ was leaking badly and had to be put on the beach
as quickly as possible whilst we had fine weather. This, with the
assistance of the natives, we at once set about and in the course of
a few days had effected all the necessary repairs, and then steered
westward for Admiralty Island, calling at various islands on our way,
trading with the wild natives for coco-nut oil, copra, ivory nuts,
pearl-shell and tortoise-shell, and doing very poorly; for a large
American schooner, engaged in the same business, had been ahead of us,
and at most of the islands we touched at we secured nothing more than
a few hundredweight of black-edged pearl-shell. Then, to add to our
troubles, two of our native crew were badly wounded in an attack made on
a boat's crew who were sent on shore to cut firewood on what the skipper
and I thought to be a chain of small uninhabited islands. This was a
rather serious matter, for not only were the captain and boatswain ill
with fever, but three of the crew as well.

For a week we worked along the southern coast of Admiralty Island,
calling at a number of villages and obtaining a considerable quantity of
very good pearl-shell from the natives. But it was a harassing time, for
having seven sick men on board we never dared to come to an anchor for
fear of the savage and treacherous natives attempting to capture the
ship. As it was, we had to keep a sharp look-out to prevent more than
two canoes coming alongside at once, and then only when there was a fair
breeze, so that we could shake them off if their occupants showed any
inclination for mischief. We several times heard some of these gentry
commenting on the ship being so short-handed, and this made us unusually
careful, for although those of us who were well never moved about
unarmed we could not have beaten back a sudden rush.

At last, however, both Manson and the boatswain, and one of the native
sailors became so ill that the former decided to make a break in the
cruise and let all hands--sick and well--have a week's spell at a place
he knew of, situated at the west end of the great island; and so one day
we sailed the _Metaris_ into a quiet little bay, encompassed by lofty
well-wooded hills, and at the head of which was a fine stream of fresh
water.

"We shall soon pull ourselves together in this place," said Manson to
Loring (the mate) and me. "I know this little bay well, though 'tis six
years since I was last here. There are no native villages within ten
miles at least, and we shall be quite safe, so we need only keep an
anchor watch at night. Man the boat, there. I must get on shore right
away. I am feeling better already for being here. Which of you fellows
will come with me for a bit of a look round?"

I, being the supercargo, was, for the time, an idle man, but made an
excuse of "wanting to overhaul" my trade-room--always a good standing
excuse with most supercargoes--as I wanted Loring to have a few hours
on shore; for although he was free of fever he was pretty well run down
with overwork. So, after some pressure, he consented, and a few minutes
later he and Manson were pulled on shore, and I watched them land on
the beach, just in front of a clump of wild mango trees in full bearing,
almost surrounded by groves of lofty coco-nut palms. A little farther on
was an open, grassy space on which grew some wide-branched white cedar
trees.

About an hour afterwards Loring returned on board, and told me that
Manson had gone on alone to what he described as "a sweet little lake".
It was only a mile away, and he thought of having a leaf house built
there for the sick men and himself, and wanted Loring to come and have a
look at it, but the mate declined, pleading his wish to get back to the
ship and unbend our canvas.

"As you will," said Manson to him. "I shall be all right. I'll shoot
some pigeons and cockatoos by-and-by, and bring them down to the beach.
And after you have unbent the canvas, you can take the seine to the
mouth of the creek and fill the boat with fish." Then, gun on shoulder,
he walked slowly away into the verdant and silent forest.

After unbending our canvas, we went to dinner; and then leaving Loring
in charge of the ship, the boatswain, two hands and myself went on
shore with the seine to the mouth of the creek, and in a very short time
netted some hundreds of fish much resembling the European shad.

Just as we were about to push off, I heard Manson's hail close to,
and looking round, nearly lost my balance and fell overboard in
astonishment--he was accompanied by a woman.

Springing out of the boat, I ran to meet them.

"Mrs. Hollister," said the captain, "this is my supercargo. As soon as
we get on board I will place you in his hands, and he will give you all
the clothing you want at present for yourself and your little girl," and
then as, after I had shaken hands with the lady, I stood staring at him
for an explanation, he smiled.

"I'll tell you Mrs. Hollister's strange story by-and-by, old man.
Briefly it is this--she, her husband, and their little girl have been
living here for over two years. Their vessel was castaway here. Now, get
into the boat, please, Mrs. Hollister."

The woman, who was weeping silently with excitement, smiled through her
tears, stepped into the boat, and in a few minutes we were alongside.

"Make all the haste you can," Manson said to me, "as Mrs. Hollister is
returning on shore as soon as you can give her some clothing and boots
or shoes. Then they are all coming on board to supper at eight o'clock."

The lady came with me to my trade-room, and we soon went to work
together, I forbearing to ask her any questions whatever, though I was
as full of curiosity as a woman. Like that of all trading vessels
whose "run" embraced the islands of Polynesia as well as Melanesia and
Micronesia, the trade-room of the _Metaris_ was a general store.
The shelves and cases were filled with all sorts of articles--tinned
provisions, wines and spirits, firearms and ammunition, hardware and
drapers' soft goods, "yellow-back" novels, ready-made clothing for men,
women and children, musical instruments and grindstones--in fact just
such a stock as one would find in a well-stocked general store in an
Australian country town.

In half an hour Mrs. Hollister had found all that she wanted, and
packing the articles in a "trade" chest, I had it passed on deck and
lowered into the boat. Then the lady, now smiling radiantly, shook hands
with every one, including the steward, and descended to the boat which
quickly cast off and made for the shore in charge of the boatswain.

Then I felt that I deserved a drink, and went below again where Manson
and Loring were awaiting me. They had anticipated my wishes, for the
steward had just placed the necessary liquids on the cabin table.

"Now, boys," said the skipper, as he opened some soda water, "after we
have had a first drink I'll spin my yarn--and a sad enough one it is,
too. By-the-way, steward, did you put that bottle of brandy and some
soda water in the boat?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's all right. Just fancy, you fellows--that poor chap on shore has
not had a glass of grog for more than two years. That is, I suppose so.
Anyway I am sending him some. And, I say, steward; I want you to spread
yourself this evening and give us _the_ very best supper you ever gave
us. There are three white persons coming at eight o'clock. And I daresay
they will sleep on board, so get ready three spare bunks."

Manson was usually a slow, drawling speaker--except when he had occasion
to admonish the crew; then he was quite brilliant in the rapidity of
his remarks--but now he was clearly a little excited and seemed to have
shaken the fever out of his bones, for he not only drank his brandy and
soda as if he enjoyed it, but asked the steward to bring him his pipe.
This latter request was a sure sign that he was getting better. Then he
began his story.

*****

Although six years had passed since he had visited this part of the
great island, Manson knew his way inland to the lake. The forest was
open, and consisted of teak and cedar with but little undergrowth.
Suddenly, as he was passing under the spreading branches of a great
cedar, he saw something that made him stare with astonishment--a little
white girl, driving before her a flock of goats! She was dressed in
a loose gown of blue print, and wore an old-fashioned white linen
sun-bonnet, and her bare legs and feet were tanned a deep brown. Only
for a moment did he see her face as she faced towards him to hurry up a
playful kid that had broken away from the flock, and then her back was
again turned, and she went on, quite unaware of his presence.

"Little girl," he called.

Something like a cry of terror escaped her lips as she turned to him.

"Oh, sir," she cried in trembling tones, "you frightened me."

"I am so sorry, my dear. Who are you? Where do you live?"

"Just by the lake, sir, with my father and mother."

"May I come with you and see them?"

"Oh, yes, sir. We have never seen any one since we came here more than
two years ago. When did you come, sir?"

"Only this morning. My vessel is anchored in the little cove."

"Oh, I am so glad, so glad! My father and mother too will be so glad to
meet you. But he cannot see you--I mean see you with his eyes--for he is
blind. When our ship was wrecked here the lightning struck him, and took
away his eyesight."

Deeply interested as he was, Manson forbore to question the child any
further, and walked beside her in silence till they came in view of the
lake.

"Look, sir, there is our house. Mother and Fiji Sam, the sailor, built
it, and I helped. Isn't it nice? See, there are my father and mother
waiting for me."

On the margin of a lovely little lake, less than a mile in
circumference, was a comfortably built house, semi-native, semi-European
in construction, and surrounded by a garden of gorgeous-hued coleus,
crotons, and other indigenous plants, and even the palings which
enclosed it were of growing saplings, so evenly trimmed as to resemble
an ivy-grown wall.

Seated in front of the open door were a man and woman. The latter rose
and came to meet Manson, who raised his hat as the lady held out her
hand, and he told her who he was.

"Come inside," she said, in a soft, pleasant voice. "This is my husband,
Captain Hollister. Our vessel was lost on this island twenty-eight
months ago, and you are the first white man we have seen since then."

The blind man made his visitor welcome, but without effusion, and begged
him to be seated. What especially struck Manson was the calm, quiet
manner of all three. They received him as if they were used to seeing
strangers, and betrayed no unusual agitation. Yet they were deeply
thankful for his coming. The house consisted of three rooms, and had
been made extremely comfortable by articles of cabin furniture. The
table was laid for breakfast, and as Manson sat down, the little girl
hurriedly milked a goat, and brought in a small gourd of milk. In a
few minutes Hollister's slight reserve had worn off, and he related his
strange story.

His vessel (of which he was owner) was a topsail schooner of 130 tons,
and had sailed from Singapore in a trading cruise among the Pacific
Islands. For the first four months all went well. Many islands had been
visited with satisfactory results, and then came disaster, swift and
terrible. Hollister told of it in few and simple words.

"We were in sight of this island and in the middle watch were becalmed.
The night was close and sultry, and we had made all ready for a blow
of some sort. For two hours we waited, and then in an instant the whole
heavens were alight with chain and fork lightning. My Malay crew bolted
below, and as they reached the fore-scuttle, two of them were struck
dead, and flames burst out on the fore-part of the ship. I sprang
forward, and was half-way along the deck, when I, too, was struck down.
For an hour I was unconscious, and when I revived knew that my sight was
gone for ever.

"My mate was a good seaman, but old and wanting in nerve. Still, with
the aid of some of the terrified crew, and amidst a torrential downpour
of rain which almost immediately began to fall, he did what he could to
save the ship. In half an hour the rain ceased, and then the wind came
with hurricane force from the southward; the crew again bolted, and
refused to come on deck, and the poor mate in trying to heave-to was
washed away from the wheel, together with the Malay serang--the only man
who stuck to him. There were now left on board alive four Malays, one
Fijian A.B. named Sam, my wife and child and myself. And I, of course,
was helpless.

"'Fiji Sam' was a plucky fellow. Aided by my wife, he succeeded in
putting the schooner before the wind and letting her drive to the
N.N.W., feeling sure that she would be giving the land a wide berth.
Unfortunately he did not count upon a four-knot current setting to the
eastward, and just as daylight was breaking we tore clean over the reef
at high water into a little bay two miles from here. The water was so
deep, and the place so sheltered, that the schooner drifted in among the
branches of the trees lining the beach, and lay there as quiet as if she
were moored to a wharf.

"Two days later the Malays seized the dinghy, taking with them
provisions and arms, and deserted me. What became of them I do not know.

"Fiji Sam found this lake, and here we built this house, after removing
all that we could from the ship, for she was leaking, and settled down
upon her keel. She is there still, but of no use.

"When we ran ashore we had in the hold some goats and pigs, which I had
bought at Anchorites' Island. The goats kept with us, but the pigs went
wild, and took to the bush. In endeavouring to shoot one, poor Fiji
Sam lost his life--his rifle caught in a vine and went off, the bullet
passing through his body.

"Not once since the wreck have we seen a single native, though on clear
days we often see smoke about fifteen miles along the coast. Anyway,
none have come near us--for which I am very glad."

Manson remarked that that was fortunate as they were "a bad lot".

"So we have been living here quietly for over two years. Twice only have
we seen a sail, but only on the horizon. And I, having neither boat nor
canoe, and being blind, was helpless."

"That is the poor fellow's story," concluded Manson. "Of course I will
give them a passage to Levuka, and we must otherwise do our best for
them. Although Hollister has lost every penny he had in the world, his
wife tells me that she owns some property in Singapore, where she also
has a brother who is in business there. By Jove, boys, I wish you
had been with me when I said 'Thank God, I have found you, Captain
Hollister,' and the poor fellow sighed and turned his face away as he
held out his hand to me, and his wife drew him to her bosom."




CHAPTER IV ~ NISÂN ISLAND; A TALE OF THE OLD TRADING DAYS

When I was first learning the ropes as a "recruiter" in the Kanaka
labour trade, recruiting natives to work on the plantations of Samoa and
Fiji, we called at a group of islands called Nisân by the natives,
and marked on the chart as the Sir Charles Hardy Islands. I thought
it likely that I might obtain a few "recruits," and the captain wanted
fresh provisions.

The group lies between the south end of New Ireland and the north end of
the great Bougainville Island in the Solomon Archipelago, and consists
of six low, well-wooded and fertile islands, enclosed within a barrier
reef, forming a noble atoll, almost circular in shape. All the islands
are thickly populated at the present day by natives, who are peaceable
enough, and engage in _bęche-de-mer_ and pearl-shell fishing. Less than
forty years back they were notorious cannibals, and very warlike, and
never hesitated to attempt to cut off any whaleship or trading vessel
that was not well manned and well armed.

As I had visited the group on three previous occasions in a trading
vessel and was well known to the people, I was pretty sure of getting
some "recruits" for Samoa, for our vessel had a good reputation. So,
lowering our boats, the second mate and I went on shore, and were
pleasantly received. But, alas for my hopes! I could not get a single
native to recruit They were, they said, now doing so well at curing
_bęche-de-mer_ for a Sydney trading vessel that none of the young men
cared to leave the island to work on a plantation for three years; in
addition to this, never before had food been so plentiful--pigs and
poultry abounded, and turtle were netted by hundreds at a time. In proof
of their assertion as to the abundance of provisions, I bought from
them, for trade goods worth about ten dollars, a boat-load of turtle,
pigs, ducks, fowls, eggs and fish. These I sent off to the ship by the
second mate, and told him to return for another load of bread-fruit,
taro, and other vegetables and fruit. I also sent a note to the captain
by my own boat, telling him to come on shore and bring our guns and
plenty of cartridges, as the islands were alive with countless thousands
of fine, heavy pigeons, which were paying the group their annual visit
from the mountainous forests of Bougainville Island and New Ireland.
They literally swarmed on a small uninhabited island, covered with
bread-fruit and other trees, and used by the natives as a sort of
pleasure resort.

The two boats returned together, and leaving the second mate to buy more
pigs and turtle--for we had eighty-five "recruits" on board to feed, as
well as the ship's company of twenty-eight persons--the skipper and I
started off in my boat for the little island, accompanied by several
young Nisân "bucks" carrying old smooth-bore muskets, for they, too,
wanted to join in the sport I had given them some tins of powder, shot,
and a few hundred military caps. We landed on a beautiful white beach,
and telling our boat's crew to return to the village and help the second
mate, the skipper and I, with the Nisân natives, walked up the bank,
and in a few minutes the guns were at work. Never before had I seen
such thousands of pigeons in so small an area. It could hardly be called
sport, for the birds were so thick on the trees that when a native fired
at haphazard into the branches the heavy charge of shot would bring them
down by the dozen--the remainder would simply fly off to the next tree.
Owing to the dense foliage the skipper and I seldom got a shot at them
on the wing, and had to slaughter like the natives, consoling ourselves
with the fact that every bird would be eaten. Most of them were so fat
that it was impossible to pluck them without the skin coming away,
and from the boat-load we took on board the skip's cook obtained a
ten-gallon keg full of fat.

About noon we ceased, to have something to eat and drink, and chose for
our camp a fairly open spot, higher than the rest of the island, and
growing on which were some magnificent trees, bearing a fruit called
vi. It is in reality a wild mango, but instead of containing the smooth
oval-shaped seed of the mango family, it has a round, root-like and
spiky core. The fruit, however, is of a delicious flavour, and when
fully ripe melts in one's mouth. Whilst our native friends were grilling
some birds, and getting us some young coco-nuts to drink, the captain
and I, taking some short and heavy pieces of wood, began throwing them
at the ripe fruit overhead. Suddenly my companion tripped over something
and fell.

"Hallo, what is this?" he exclaimed, as he rose and looked at the cause
of his mishap.

It was the end of a bar of pig-iron ballast, protruding some inches
out of the soft soil. We worked it to and fro, and then pulled it out.
Wondering how it came there, we left it and resumed our stick-throwing,
when we discovered three more on the other side of the tree; they were
lying amid the ruins of an old wall, built of coral-stone slabs. We
questioned the natives as to how these "pigs" came to be there. They
replied that, long before their time, a small vessel had come into
the lagoon and anchored, and that the crew had thrown the bars of iron
overboard. After the schooner had sailed away, the natives had dived for
and recovered the iron, and had tried to soften the bars by fire in the
hope of being able to turn it into axes, etc.

We accepted the story as true, and thought no more about it, though we
wondered why such useful, compact and heavy ballast should be thrown
away, and when my boat returned to take us to the ship, we took the iron
"pigs" with us.

Arriving at Samoa, we soon rid ourselves of our eighty-five
"blackbirds," who had all behaved very well on the voyage, and were
sorry to leave the ship; and that evening I paid a visit to an old
friend of mine--an American who kept a large store in Apia, the
principal port and town of Samoa. I was telling him all about our
cruise, when an old white man, locally known as "Bandy Tom," came up
from the yard, and sat down on the verandah steps near us. Old Tom was a
character, and well known all over Polynesia as an inveterate old loafer
and beachcomber. He was a deserter from the navy, and for over forty
years had wandered about the South Pacific, sometimes working honestly
for a living, sometimes dishonestly, but usually loafing upon some
native community, until they tired of him and made him seek fresh
pastures. In his old age he had come to Samoa, and my friend, taking
pity on the penniless old wreck, gave him employment as night watchman,
and let him hang about the premises and do odd jobs in the day-time.
With all his faults he was an amusing ancient, and was known for his
"tall" yarns about his experiences with cannibals in Fiji.

Bidding me "good-evening," Bandy Tom puffed away at his pipe, and
listened to what I was saying. When I had finished describing our visit
to Nisân, and the finding of the ballast, he interrupted.

"I can tell you where them 'pigs' come from, and all about
'em--leastways a good deal; for I knows more about the matter than any
one else."

Parker laughed. "Bandy, you know, or pretend to know, about everything
that has happened in the South Seas since the time of Captain Cook."

"Ah, you can laugh as much as you like, boss," said the old fellow
serenely, "but I know what I'm talkin' about I ain't the old gas-bag you
think I am. I lived on Nisân for a year an' ten months, nigh on thirty
years ago, gettin' _bęche-de-mer_ for Captain Bobby Towns of Sydney."
Then turning to me he added: "I ain't got too bad a memory, for all my
age. I can tell you the names of all the six islands, and how they lies,
an' a good deal about the people an' the queer way they has of catchin'
turtle in rope nets; an' I can tell you the names of the head men that
was there in my time--which was about 'fifty or 'fifty-one. Just you try
me an' see."

I did try him, and he very soon satisfied me that he had lived on the
Sir Charles Hardy Islands, and knew the place well. Then he told his
story, which I condense as much as possible.




FIRST PART

Bandy was landed at Nisân by Captain Robert Towns of the barque
_Adventurer_ of Sydney, to collect _bęche-de-mer_. He was well received
by the savage inhabitants and provided with a house, and well treated
generally, for Captain Towns, knowing the natives to be cannibals and
treacherous, had demanded a pledge from them that Bandy should not be
harmed, and threatened that if on his return in the following year he
found the white man was missing, he would land his crew, and destroy
them to the last man. Then the barque sailed. A day or so afterwards
Bandy was visited by a native, who was very different in appearance
from the Nisân people. He spoke to the white man in good English, and
informed him that he was a native of the island of Rotumah, but had been
living on Nisân for more than twenty years, had married, had a family,
and was well thought of by the people. The two became great friends, and
Taula, as the Rotumah man was named, took Bandy into his confidence, and
told him of a tragedy that had occurred on Nisân about five or six years
after he (Taula) had landed on the islands. He was one of the crew of a
whaleship which, on a dark night, nearly ran ashore on Nisân, and in the
hurry and confusion of the vessels going about he slipped over the side,
swam on shore through the surf, and reached the land safely.

One day, said Taula, the natives were thrown into a state of wild
excitement by the appearance of a brigantine, which boldly dropped
anchor abreast of the principal village. She was the first vessel
that had ever stopped at the islands, and the savage natives instantly
planned to capture her and massacre the crew. But they resolved to first
put the white men off their guard. Taula, however, did not know this at
the time. With a number of the Nisân people he went on board, taking
an ample supply of provisions. The brigantine had a large crew and was
heavily armed, carrying ten guns, and the natives were allowed to board
in numbers. The captain had with him his wife, whom Taula described as
being quite a young girl. He questioned the natives about pearl-shell
and _bęche-de-mer_ and a few hours later, by personal inspection,
satisfied himself that the atoll abounded with both. He made a treaty
with the apparently friendly people, and at once landed a party to build
houses, etc.

I must now, for reasons that will appear later on, hurry over Taula's
story as told by him to Bandy.

Eight or ten days after the arrival of the brigantine, the shore
party of fourteen white men were treacherously attacked, and thirteen
ruthlessly slaughtered. One who escaped was kept as a slave, and the
brigantine, to avoid capture, hurriedly put to sea.

Six months or so passed, and the vessel again appeared and anchored,
this time on a mission of vengeance. The natives, nevertheless, were not
alarmed, and again determined to get possession of the ship, although
this time her decks were crowded with men. They attacked her in canoes,
were repulsed, returned to the shore and then, with incredible audacity,
sent the white sailor whom they had captured on board the vessel to make
peace. But not for a moment had they relinquished the determination to
capture the vessel, which they decided to effect by treachery, if force
could not be used. What followed was related in detail by Taula to
Bandy.

Parker and I were deeply interested in Bandy's story, and at its
conclusion I asked him if his informant knew the name of the ship and
her nationality.

"Not her name, sir; but she was an American. Taula knew the American
flag, for the ship he ran away from was a Sag harbour whaler. The
pig-iron bars which you found were brought ashore to make a bed for the
_bęche-de-mer_ curing pots. He showed 'em to me one day."

Both Parker and I were convinced of the truth of Bandy's story, and came
to the conclusion that the unknown brigantine was probably a colonial
trader, which had afterwards been lost with all hands. For we were
both fairly well up in the past history of the South Seas--at least we
thought so--and had never heard of this affair at the Sir Charles Hardy
Group. But we were entirely mistaken in our assumptions.

In the month of April in the year 1906, after a lapse of more than five
and twenty years, the mystery that enshrouded the tragedy of Nisân
was revealed to me by my coming across, in a French town, a small,
time-stained and faded volume of 230 pages, and published by J. and J.
Harper of New York in 1833, and entitled _Narrative of a Voyage to the
Ethiopie and South Atlantic Ocean, Indian Ocean, Chinese Sea, North
and South Pacific Ocean in the years_ 1829, 1830, 1831, by Abby Jane
Morrell, who accompanied her husband, Captain Benjamin Morrell, Junior,
of the schooner _Antarctic_.

Now to her story,




SECOND PART

Opening the faded little volume, the reader sees a wood-engraving of the
authoress, a remarkably handsome young woman of about twenty years of
age, dressed in the quaint fashion of those days. As a matter of fact
she was only four and twenty when her book was published. In a brief
preface she tells us that her object in writing a book was not for the
purpose of exciting interest in her own experiences of a remarkable
voyage, but in the hope that it would arouse philanthropic endeavour to
ameliorate the condition of American seamen. Throughout the volume there
is a vein of deep, yet unobtrusive piety, and the reader is struck with
her self-effacement, her courage, her reverent admiration for her young
sailor husband, and her pride in his gallant ship and sturdy crew of
native-born American seamen. In the _Antarctic_ the young couple sailed
many seas, and visited many lands, and everywhere they seem to have been
the recipients of unbounded hospitality and attention, especially from
their own country people, and English merchants, and naval and military
men. It is very evident--even if only judging from her picture--that she
was a very charming young lady of the utmost vivacity; and in addition
to this, she was an accomplished linguist, and otherwise highly
educated. Her beauty, indeed, caused her many tears, owing to the
"wicked and persistent attentions" of the American consul at Manila.
This gentleman appears to have set himself to work to make Mrs. Morrell
a widow, until at last--her husband being away at sea--she had to be
guarded from his persistent advances by some of the English and American
families resident in Manila. She tells the story in the most naive and
delightful manner, and the reader's heart warms to the little woman. But
I must not diverge from the subject.

"I am," she says, "the daughter of Captain John Wood, of New York, who
died at New Orleans on the 14th of November, 1811. He was then master
of the ship _Indian Hunter_.... He died when I was so young that if I
pleased myself with thinking that I remember him, I could not have been
a judge of his virtues; but it has been a source of happiness to me that
he is spoken of by his contemporaries as a man of good sense and great
integrity."

When fifteen years of age Miss Wood met her cousin, Captain Morrell,
a young man who had gained a reputation for seamanship, and as a
navigator. They were mutually attracted to each other, and in a few
months were married. Then he sailed away on a two years' voyage,
returned, and again set out, this time to the little known South Seas.
Absent a year--during which time a son was born to him--he was so
pleased with the financial results of the voyage that he determined on
a second; and his wife insisted on accompanying him, though he pleaded
with her to remain, and told her of the dangers and terrors of a long
voyage in unknown seas, the islands of which were peopled by ferocious
and treacherous cannibals. But she was not to be deterred from sharing
her husband's perils, and with an aching heart took farewell of her
infant son, whom she left in care of her mother, and on 2nd September,
1829, the _Antarctic_ sailed from New York. The cruise was to last two
years, and the object of it was to seek for new sealing grounds in the
Southern Ocean, and then go northward to the Pacific Islands and
barter with the natives for sandal-wood, _bęche-de-mer_ pearls, and
pearl-shell.

The crew of the brigantine were picked men, and all of them gave Morrell
a written pledge to abstain from drinking spirits of any kind during the
entire voyage. Morrell, though a strict disciplinarian, seems to have
had their respect and even affection throughout, and that he was a man
of iron resolution and dauntless courage the book gives ample testimony.

After some months' sealing at the Auckland Islands, and visiting New
Zealand, where the Morrells were entertained by the missionary, John
Williams, the brigantine made a highly successful cruise among the
islands of the South Pacific, and then Morrell went to Manila to dispose
of his valuable cargo. This he did to great advantage, and once more his
restless, daring spirit impelled him tot make another voyage among the
islands. This time, however, he left his wife in Manila, where she soon
found many friends, who protected her from the annoying attentions of
the consul, and nursed her through a severe illness.

"On the seventy-fifth day after the sailing of the _Antarctic?_" she
writes, "as I was looking with a glass from my window, as I had done for
many days previously, I saw my husband's well-known signal at the mast
head of an approaching vessel.... I was no sooner on board than I found
myself in my husband's arms; but the scene was too much for my enfeebled
frame, and I was for some time insensible. On coming to myself, I looked
around and saw my brother, pale and emaciated. My forebodings were
dreadful when I perceived that the number of the crew was sadly
diminished from what it was when I was last on board. I dared not
trust myself to make any inquiries, and all seemed desirous to avoid
explanations. I could not rest in this state of mind, and ventured to
ask what had become of the men. My husband, with his usual frankness,
sat down and detailed to me the whole affair, which was as follows:--


                   A TALE OF THE OLD TRADING DAYS

"It seems that six weeks after leaving Manila" (here I omit some
unimportant details) "he came to six islands that were surrounded by
a coral reef." (The Sir Charles Hardy Group.) "Here was a-plenty of
_bęche-de-mer_ and he made up his mind to get a cargo of this, and what
shell he could procure.... On May 21st he sent a boat's crew on shore to
clear away the brush and prepare a place to cure the _bęche-de-mer_. The
natives now came off to the vessel, and seemed quiet, although it was
evident that they had never seen a white man before, and the islands
bore no trace of ever having been visited by civilised men. The people
were a large, savage-looking race, but Mr. Morrell was lulled to
security by their civil and harmless (_sic_) appearance, and their
fondness of visiting the vessel to exchange their fruits for trinkets
and other commodities attractive to the savages in these climes. They
were shown in perfect friendship all parts of the vessel, and appeared
pleased with the attentions paid them.... A boat was sent on shore with
the forge and all the blacksmith's tools, but the savages soon stole the
greater part of them.

"This was an unpropitious circumstance, but Mr. Morrell thought that he
could easily recover them; and to accomplish this, he took six of his
men, well armed, and marched directly to the village where the king
lived. This was a lovely place, formed in a grove of trees. Here he met
two hundred warriors, all painted for battle, armed with bows and arrows
ready for an onset, waving their war plumes, and eager to engage. On
turning round he saw nearly as many more in his rear--it was a critical
moment--the slightest fear was sure death. Mr. Morrell addressed his
comrades, and, in a word, told them that if they did not act in concert,
and in the most dauntless manner, death would be inevitable. He then
threw down his musket, drew his cutlass, and holding a pistol in his
right hand, he pushed for the king, knowing in what reverence savages in
general hold the person of their monarch. In an instant the pistol was
at the king's breast, and the cutlass waved over his head. The savages
had arrowed their bows, and were ready at the slightest signal to have
shot a cloud of missiles at the handful of white men; but in an instant,
when they saw the danger of their king, they dropped their bows to the
ground. At this fortunate moment, the captain marched around the circle,
and compelled those who had come with war-clubs to throw those down
also; all which he ordered his men to secure and collect inta a heap.
The king was then conducted with several of his chiefs on board the
_Antarctic_, and kept until the next day. They were treated with every
attention, but strictly guarded all night On the following morning he
gave them a good breakfast, loaded them with presents--for which they
seemed grateful, and laboured hard to convince their conqueror that they
were friendly to him and his crew--sent them on shore, together with
some of his men, to go on with the works which had been commenced; but
feeling that a double caution was necessary, he sent a reinforcement
to his men on shore, well armed.... All were cautioned to be on their
guard; but everything was unavailing; for not long after this, a general
attack was made on the men from the woods, in so sudden a manner that
they were overthrown at once. Two of the crew who were in the small
boat, made their escape out of reach of the arrows, and had the good
fortune to pick up three others who had thrown themselves into the water
for safety. On hearing the horrid yells of the savages, the whaleboat
was sent with ten men, who, with great exertions, saved two more of
the crew. The rest all fell, at one untimely moment, victims to savage
barbarity! It was an awful and heart-sickening moment; fourteen of the
crew had perished--they were murdered, mangled, and their corpses
thrown upon the strand without the possibility of receiving the rites
of Christian burial.... Four of the survivors were wounded--the heat was
intolerable--the spirits of the crew were broken down, and a sickness
came over their hearts that could not be controlled by the power of
medicine--a sickness arising from moral causes, that would not yield to
science nor art.

"In this situation Captain Morrell made the best of his way for
Manila.... I grew pale over the narrative; it filled my dreams for many
nights, and occupied my thoughts for many days, almost exclusively....
I dreaded the thought of the mention of the deed, and yet I wished I
had been there. I might have done some good, or, if not, I might have
assisted to dress the wounded, among whom was my own dear, heroic
brother. He received an arrow in the breast, but his good constitution
soon got over the shock; though he was pale even when I saw him, so
many days after the event. My husband had now lost everything but his
courage, his honour, and his perseverance; but the better part of the
community of Manila had become his friends, while the American consul
was delighted with our misfortunes. He was alone!"




THIRD PART

Nothing daunted by this catastrophe Captain Morrell petitioned the
Captain-General of the Philippines for leave to take out a new crew
of seventy additional men--sixty-six Manila men, and four Europeans.
Everyone warned him of the danger of this--no other ship had ever dared
take more than six Manila men as part of her complement, for they were
treacherous, and prone to mutiny. But Morrell contested that he would
be able to manage them and the captain-general yielded. Two English
merchants, Messrs. Cannell and Gellis, generously lent him all the money
he required to fit out, taking only his I.O.U. So:--

"On the 18th July, 1830, the _Antarctic_ again sailed for Massacre
Islands, as my husband had named the group where he lost his men. When
I went on board I found a crew of eighty-five men, fifty-five of them
savages as fierce as those whom we were about to encounter, and as
dangerous, if not properly managed. One would have thought that I should
have shrunk from this assemblage as from those of Massacre Islands, but
I entered my cabin with a light step; I did not fear savage men half
so much as I did a civilised brute. I was with my husband; he was not
afraid, why should I be? This was my reasoning, and I found it safe.

"The schooner appeared as formidable as anything possibly could of her
size; she had great guns, ten in number, small arms, boarding-pikes,
cutlasses, pistols, and a great quantity of ammunition. She was a
war-horse in every sense of the word, but that of animal life, and that
she seemed partially to have, or one would have thought so, to hear
the sailors talk of her.... She coursed over the waters with every
preparation for fight.

"On the 13th of September the _Antarctic_ again reached Massacre
Islands. I could only view the place as a Golgotha; and shuddered as we
neared it; but I could see that most of the old crew who came hither
at the time of the massacre were panting for revenge, although their
captain had endeavoured to impress upon them the folly of gratifying
such a passion if we could gain our purpose by mildness mixed with
firmness." (I am afraid that here the skipper of the _Antarctic_ was
not exactly open with the little lady. He certainly meant that his crew
should "get even" with their shipmates' murderers, but doubtless told
her that he "had endeavoured," etc)

"We had no sooner made our appearance in the harbour at Massacre Island,
on the 14th, than we were attacked by about three hundred warriors. We
opened a brisk fire upon them, and they immediately retreated. This was
the first battle I ever saw where men in anger met men in earnest We
were now perfectly safe; our Manila men were as brave as Caesar; they
were anxious to be landed instantly, to fight these Indians at once.
They felt as much superior, no doubt, to these ignorant savages as the
philosopher does to the peasant. This the captain would not permit; he
knew his superiority while on board his vessel, and he also knew that
this superiority must be, in a manner, lost to him as soon as he landed.

"The firing had ceased, and the enemy had retired, when a single
canoe appeared coming from the shore with one man in it. We could not
conjecture what this could mean. The man was as naked as a savage and as
highly painted, but he managed his paddle with a different hand from the
savages. When he came alongside, he cried out to us in English, and we
recognised Leonard Shaw, one of our old crew, whom we had supposed among
the dead. The meeting had that joyousness about it that cannot be felt
in ordinary life; he was dead and buried, and now was alive again!
We received him as one might imagine; surprise, joy, wonder, took
possession of us all, and we made him recount his adventures, which were
wonderful enough.

"Shaw was wounded when the others were slain; he fled to the woods, and
succeeded at that time in escaping from death. Hunger at length induced
him to leave the woods and attempt to give himself to the savages, but
coming in sight of the horrid spectacle of the bodies of his friends and
companions roasting for a cannibal feast, he rushed forth again into the
woods with the intent rather to starve than to trust to such wretches
for protection. For four days and nights he remained in his hiding
place, when he was forced to go in pursuit of something to keep himself
from starving. After some exertion he obtained three coco-nuts, which
were so young that they did not afford much sustenance, but were
sufficient to keep him alive fifteen days, during which time he suffered
from the continually falling showers, which left him dripping wet. In
the shade of his hiding place he had no chance to dry himself, and on
the fifteenth day he ventured to stretch himself in the sun; but he did
not long remain undisturbed; an Indian saw him, and gave the alarm,
and he was at once surrounded by a host of savages. The poor, suffering
wretch implored them to be merciful, but he implored in vain; one of
them struck him on the back of the head with a war-club, and laid him
senseless on the ground, and for a while left him as dead. When he
recovered, and had gathered his scattered senses, he observed a chief
who was not among those by whom he had been attacked, and made signs
to him that he would be his slave if he would save him. The savage
intimated to him to follow, which he did, and had his wound most cruelly
dressed by the savage, who poured hot water into it, and filled it with
sand.

"As soon as the next day, while yet in agony with his wound, he was
called up and set to work in making knives, and other implements from
the iron hoops, and other plunder from the forge when the massacre took
place. This was indeed hard, for the poor fellow was no mechanic, though
a first-rate Jack-tar... however, necessity made him a blacksmith, and
he got along pretty well.

"The savages were not yet satisfied, and they made him march five or
six miles to visit a distinguished chief. This was done in a state of
nudity, without anything like sandals or mocassins to protect his feet
from the flint stones and sharp shells, and under the burning rays of
an intolerable sun. Blood marked his footsteps. The king met him
and compelled him to debase himself by the most abject ceremonies of
slavery. He was now overcome, and with a dogged indifference was ready
to die. He could not, he would not walk back; his feet were lacerated,
swollen, and almost in a state of putrefaction. The savages saw this,
and took him back by water, but only to experience new torments. The
young ones imitated their elders, and these graceless little rascals
pulled out his beard and whiskers, and eyebrows and eyelashes. In order
to save himself some part of the pain of this wretched process of their
amusement, he was permitted to perform a part of this work with his
own hands. He was indeed a pitiable object, but one cannot die when one
wishes, and be guiltless. This was not all he suffered; he was almost
starved to death, for they gave him only the offal of the fish they
caught, and this but sparingly; he sustained himself by catching rats,
and these offensive creatures were his principal food for a longtime.
He understood that the natives did not suffer the rats to be killed, and
therefore he had to do it secretly in the night time.

"Thus passed the days of the poor prisoner; the wound on his head was
not yet healed, and notwithstanding all his efforts he failed to get the
sand out of his first wound until a short time before his deliverance,
when it was made known to him that he was to be immolated for a feast to
the king of the group! All things had now become matters of indifference
to him, and he heard the horrid story with great composure. All the
preparations for the sacrifice were got up in his presence, near the
very spot where the accursed feast of skulls had been held. All was in
readiness, and the people waited a long time for the king; but he did
not come, and the ceremony was put off.

"Shaw has often expressed himself on this subject, and said that he
could not but feel some regret that his woes were not to be finished,
as there was no hope for him, and to linger always in this state of
agitation was worse than death; but mortals are short-sighted, for he
was destined to be saved through the instrumentality of his friends.

"His soul was again agitated by hope and fear in the extremes when the
_Antarctic_ made her appearance a second time on the coast. He feared
that her arrival would be the signal for his destruction; but if this
should not happen, might he not be saved? The whole population of the
island he was on, and those of the others of the group, manned their
war canoes for a formidable attack; and the fate of the prisoner was
suspended for a season. The attack was commenced by the warriors in the
canoes, without doubt confident of success; but the well-directed fire
from the _Antarctic_ soon repulsed them, and they sought the shore in
paroxysms of rage, which was changed to fear when they found that the
big guns of the schooner threw their shot directly into the village, and
were rapidly demolishing their dwellings. It was in this state of fear
and humility that Shaw was sent off to the vessel to stop the carnage
and destruction; they were glad to have peace on any terms. They now
gave up their boldness, and as it was the wish of all but the Manila
men to spare the effusion of human blood, it was done as soon as safety
would permit of it.

"The story of Shaw's sufferings raised the indignation of every one
of the Americans and English we had on board, and they were violently
desirous to be led on to attack the whole of the Massacre Islands, and
extirpate the race at once. They felt at this moment as if it would be
an easy thing to kill the whole of the inhabitants; but Captain Morrell
was not to be governed by any impulse of passion--he had other duties to
perform; yet he did not reprimand the men for this feeling; thinking it
might be of service to him hereafter.

"After taking every precaution to ensure safety, by getting up his
boarding-nettings many feet above the deck, and everything prepared for
defence or attack, the frame of the house, brought for the purpose,
was got up on a small uninhabited island--which had previously been
purchased of the king in exchange for useful articles such as axes,
shaves, and other mechanical tools, precisely such as the Indians wished
for. The captain landed with a large force, and began to fell the trees
to make a castle for defence. Finding two large trees, nearly six feet
through, he prepared the limbs about forty feet from the ground, and
raised a platform extending from one to the other, with an arrow-proof
bulwark around it. Upon this platform were stationed a garrison of
twenty men, with four brass swivels. The platform was covered with a
watertight roof, and the men slept there at night upon their arms, to
keep the natives from approaching to injure the trees or the fort by
fire--the only way they could assail the garrison. It looked indeed like
a castle--formidable in every respect; and the ascent to it was by a
ladder, which was drawn up at night into this war-like habitation. The
next step was to clear the woods from around the castle, in order to
prevent a lurking enemy from coming within arrow-shot of the fort
Next, the house was raised, and made quite a fine appearance, being one
hundred and fifty feet long, forty feet broad, and very high. The castle
protected the house and the workmen in it, and both house and castle
were so near the sea-board that the _Antarctic_ while riding at anchor,
protected both. The castle was well stocked with provisions in case of a
siege.

"The next day, after all was in order for business, a large number of
canoes made their appearance near Massacre Island. Shaw said that this
fleet belonged to another island (of the group) and he had never known
them to stop there before. My husband, having some suspicions, did not
suffer the crew to go on shore next morning at the usual time; and about
eight o'clock one of the chiefs came off, as usual, to offer us fruits,
but no boat was sent to meet him. He waited some time for us, and then
directed his course to our island, which my husband had named Wallace
Island, in memory of the officer who had bravely fallen in fight on the
day of the massacre. This was surprising as not a single native had set
foot on that island since our works were begun; but we were not kept
long in suspense, for we saw about a hundred war-canoes start from the
back side of Massacre Island, and make towards Wallace Island. We knew
that war was their object, and the _Antarctic_ was prepared for
battle. The chief who had come to sell us fruit, came in front of the
castle--the first man. He gave the war-whoop, and about two hundred
warriors, who had concealed themselves in the woods during the darkness
of the night, rushed forward. The castle was attacked on both sides,
and the Indians discharged their arrows at the building in the air, till
they were stuck, like porcupines' quills, in every part of the roof. The
garrison was firm, and waked in silence until the assailants were within
a short distance, when they opened a tremendous fire with their swivels,
loaded with canister shot; the men were ready with their muskets also,
and the _Antarctic_ opened her fire of large guns, all with a direct
and deadly aim at the leaders of the savage band. The execution was very
great, and in a short time the enemy beat a precipitate retreat, taking
with them their wounded, and as many of their dead as they could. The
ground was strewed with implements of war, which the savages had thrown
away in their flight, or which had belonged to the slain. The enemy did
not expect such a reception, and they were prodigiously frightened; the
sound of the cannon alarmed every woman and child in the group, as it
echoed through the forest, or died upon the wave; they had never heard
such a roar before, for in our first fight there was no necessity for
such energy. The Indians took to the water, leaving only a few in their
canoes to get them off, while the garrison hoisted the American flag,
and were greeted by cheers from those on board the schooner, who were in
high spirits at their victory, which was achieved without the loss of
a man on our part, and only two wounded. The music struck up 'Yankee
Doodle,' 'Rule Britannia,' etc., and the crew could hardly restrain
their joy to think that they had beaten their enemy so easily.

"The boats were all manned, and most of the crew went on shore to
mark the devastation which had been made. I saw all this without any
sensation of fear, so easy is it for a woman to catch the spirit of
those near her. If I had a few months before this time read of such a
battle I should have trembled at the detail of the incidents; but seeing
all the animation and courage which were displayed, and noticing at the
same time how coolly all was done, every particle of fear left me, and
I stood quite as collected as any heroine of former days. Still I
could not but deplore the sacrifice of the poor, misguided, ignorant
creatures, who wore the human form, and had souls to save. Must the
ignorant always be taught civilisation through blood?--situated as we
were, no other course could be taken.

"On the morning of the 19th, to our great surprise, the chief who had
previously come out to bring us fruit, and had done so on the morning of
our great battle, came again in his canoe, and called for Shaw, on
the edge of the reef, with his usual air of kindness and friendship,
offering fruit, and intimating a desire for trade, as though nothing had
happened. The offer seemed fair, but all believed him to be treacherous.
The small boat was sent to meet him, but Shaw, who we feared was now an
object of vengeance, was not sent in her. She was armed for fear of
the worst, and the coxswain had orders to kill the chief if he should
discover any treachery in him. As our boat came alongside the canoe,
the crew saw a bearded arrow attached to a bow, ready for the purpose
of revenge. Just as the savage was about to bend his bow, the coxswain
levelled his piece, and shot the traitor through the body; his wound was
mortal, but he did not expire immediately. At this instant a fleet of
canoes made their appearance to protect their chief. The small boat lost
one of her oars in the fight, and we were obliged to man two large boats
and send them to the place of contest The large boats were armed with
swivels and muskets, and a furious engagement ensued. The natives were
driven from the water, but succeeded in taking off their wounded chief,
who expired as he reached the shore.

"After the death of Hennean, the name of the chief we had slain, the
inhabitants of Massacre Island fled to some other place, and left all
things as they were before our attack upon them, and our men roamed over
it at will. The skulls of several of our slaughtered men were found at
Hennean's door, trophies of his bloody prowess. These were now buried
with the honours of war; the colours of the _Antarctic_ were lowered
half-mast, minute guns were fired, and dirges were played by our band,
in honour of those who had fallen untimely on Massacre Island. This was
all that feeling or affection could bestow. Those so inhumanly murdered
had at last the rites of burial performed for them; millions have
perished without such honours...it is the last sad office that can be
paid.

"We now commenced collecting and curing _bęche-de-mer_ and should have
succeeded to our wishes, if we had not been continually harassed by the
natives as soon as we began our efforts. We continued to work in this
way until the 28th of October, when we found that the natives were still
hostile, and on that day one of our men was attacked on Massacre Island,
but escaped death through great presence of mind, and shot the man, who
was the brother of the chief Hennean. Our man's name was Thomas Holmes,
a cool, deliberate Englishman. Such an instance of self-possession,
in such great danger as that in which he was placed, would have given
immortality to a greater man. We felt ourselves much harassed and vexed
by the persevering savages, and finding it impossible to make them
understand our motives and intentions, we came to the conclusion to
leave the place forthwith. This was painful, after such struggles and
sacrifices and misfortunes; but there was no other course to pursue.
Accordingly, on the 3rd of November, 1830, we set fire to our house and
castle, and departed by the light of them, taking the _bęche-de-mer_ we
had collected and cured."

So ends Mrs. Morrell's story of the tragedy of "Massacre Island". She
has much else to relate of the subsequent cruise of the _Antarctic_ in
the South Pacific and the East Indies, and finally the happy conclusion
of an adventurous voyage, when the vessel returned safely to New York.

If the reader has been sufficiently interested in her story to desire
to know where in the South Pacific her "Massacre Island" is situated,
he will find it in any modern map or atlas, almost midway between New
Ireland and Bougainville Island, the largest of the Solomon group, and
in lat. 4° 50' S., long. 154° 20' E. In conclusion, I may mention that
further relics of the visit of the _Antarctic_ came to light about
fifteen years ago, when some of the natives brought three or four round
shot to the local trader then living on Nisân. They had found them
buried under some coral stone _débris_ when searching for robber crabs.




CHAPTER V ~ MUTINIES

Mutinies, even at the present day, are common enough. The facts
concerning many of them never come to light, it is so often to the
advantage of the after-guard of a ship to hush matters up. I know of one
instance in which the crew of a ship loading guano phosphates at Howland
Island imprisoned the captain, three mates and the steward in the cabin
for some days; then hauled them on deck, triced up the whole five and
gave them a hundred lashes each, in revenge for the diabolical cruelties
that had been inflicted upon them day by day for long months. Then they
liberated their tormentors, took to the boats and dispersed themselves
on board other guano ships loading at How-land Island, leaving their
former captain and officers to shift for themselves. This was one of
the mutinies that never came to light, or at least the mutineers escaped
punishment.

I have witnessed three mutinies--in the last of which I took part,
although I was not a member of the ship's crew.

My first experience occurred when I was a boy, and has been alluded to
by the late Lord Pembroke in his "Introduction" to the first book I had
published--a collection of tales entitled _By Reef and Palm_. It was
a poor sort of an affair, but filled my boyish heart with a glorious
delight--in fact it was an enjoyable mutiny in some respects, for what
might have been a tragedy was turned into a comedy.

With a brother two years older I was sent to San Francisco by our
parents to begin life in a commercial house, and subsequently (of
course) make our fortunes.

Our passages were taken at Newcastle (New South Wales) on the barque
_Lizzie and Rosa_, commanded by a little red-headed Irishman, to whose
care we were committed. His wife (who sailed with him) was a most
lovable woman, generous to a fault. _He_ was about the meanest specimen
of an Irishman that ever was born, was a savage little bully, boasted of
being a Fenian, and his insignificant appearance on his quarter deck, as
he strutted up and down, irresistibly suggested a monkey on a stick, and
my brother and myself took a quick dislike to him, as also did the other
passengers, of whom there were thirty--cabin and steerage. His wife (who
was the daughter of a distinguished Irish prelate) was actually afraid
of the little man, who snarled and snapped at her as if she were a
disobedient child. (Both of them are long since dead, so I can write
freely of their characteristics.)

The barque had formerly been a French corvette--the _Felix Bernaboo_.
She was old, ill-found and leaky, and from the day we left Newcastle the
pumps were kept going, and a week later the crew came aft and demanded
that the ship should return to port.

The little man succeeded in quieting them for the time by giving them
better food, and we continued on our course, meeting with such a series
of adverse gales that it was forty-one days before we sighted the island
of Rurutu in the South Pacific. By this time the crew and steerage
passengers were in a very angry frame of mind; the former were
overworked and exhausted, and the latter were furious at the miserly
allowance of food doled out to them by the equally miserly captain.

At Rurutu the natives brought off two boat-loads of fresh provisions,
but the captain bought only one small pig for the cabin passengers. The
steerage passengers bought up everything else, and in a few minutes
the crew came aft and asked the captain to buy them some decent food in
place of the decayed pork and weevily biscuit upon which they had been
existing. He refused, and ordered them for'ard, and then the mate, a
hot-tempered Yorkshireman named Oliver, lost his temper, and told the
captain that the men were starving. Angry words followed, and the mate
knocked the little man down.

Picking himself up, he went below, and reappeared with a brace of
old-fashioned Colt's revolvers, one of which--after declaring he would
"die like an Irishman"--he pointed at the mate, and calling upon him to
surrender and be put in irons, he fired towards his head. Fortunately
the bullet missed. The sympathetic crew made a rush aft, seized the
skipper, and after knocking him about rather severely, held him under
the force pump, and nearly drowned him. Only for the respect that the
crew had for his wife, I really believe they would have killed him, for
they were wrought up to a pitch of fury by his tyranny and meanness. The
boatswain carried him below, locked him up in one of the state-rooms,
and there he was kept in confinement till the barque reached Honolulu,
twenty days later, the mate acting as skipper. At Honolulu, the mate and
all the crew were tried for mutiny, but the court acquitted them all,
mainly through the testimony of the passengers.

That was my first experience of a mutiny. My brother and I enjoyed it
immensely, especially the attempted shooting of the good old mate, and
the subsequent spectacle of the evil-tempered, vindictive little skipper
being held under the force pump.

My third experience of a mutiny I take next (as it arose from a similar
cause to the first). I was a passenger on a brig bound from Samoa to the
Gilbert Islands (Equatorial Pacific). The master was a German, brutal
and overbearing to a degree, and the two mates were no better. One was
an American "tough," the other a lazy, foul-mouthed Swede. All three
men were heavy drinkers, and we were hardly out of Apia before the Swede
(second mate) broke a sailor's jaw with an iron belaying pin. The crew
were nearly all natives--steady men, and fairly good seamen. Five of
them were Gilbert Islanders, and three natives of Niué (Savage Island),
and it was one of these latter whose jaw was broken. They were an
entirely new crew and had shipped in ignorance of the character of the
captain. I had often heard of him as a brutal fellow, and the brig (the
_Alfreda_ of Hamburg) had long had an evil name. She was a labour-ship
("black-birder") and I had taken passage in her only because I was
anxious to get to the Marshall Islands as quickly as possible.

There were but five Europeans on board--captain, two mates, bos'un and
myself. The bos'un was, although hard on the crew, not brutal, and he
never struck them.

We had not been out three days when the captain, in a fit of rage,
knocked a Gilbert Islander down for dropping a wet paint-brush on
the deck. Then he kicked him about the head until the poor fellow was
insensible.

From that time out not a day passed but one or more of the crew were
struck or kicked. The second mate's conduct filled me with fury and
loathing, for, in addition to his cruelty, his language was nothing but
a string of curses and blasphemy. Within a week I saw that the Gilbert
Islanders were getting into a dangerous frame of mind.

These natives are noted all over the Pacific for their courage, and
seeing that mischief was brewing, I spoke to the bos'un about it. He
agreed with me, but said it was no use speaking to the skipper.

To me the captain and officers were civil enough, that is, in a gruff
sort of way, so I decided to speak to the former. I must mention that I
spoke the Gilbert and Savage Island dialects, and so heard the natives
talk. However, I said nothing of that to the German. I merely said to
him that he was running a great risk in knocking the men about, and
added that their countrymen might try to cut off the brig out of
revenge. He snorted with contempt, and both he and the mates continued
to "haze" the now sulky and brooding natives.

One calm Sunday night we were in sight of Funafuti lagoon, and also of a
schooner which I knew to be the _Hazeldine_ of San Francisco. She, like
us, was becalmed.

In the middle watch I went on deck and found the skipper and second mate
drunk. The mate, who was below, was about half-drunk. All three men had
been drinking heavily for some days, and the second mate was hardly able
to keep his feet. The captain was asleep on the skylight, lying on his
back, snoring like a pig, and I saw the butt of his revolver showing in
the inner pocket of his coat.

Presently rain began to fall, and the second mate called one of the
hands and told him to bring him his oil-skin coat. The man brought it,
and then the brutal Swede, accusing him of having been slow, struck him
a fearful blow in the face and knocked him off the poop. Then the brute
followed him and began kicking him with drunken fury, then fell on the
top of him and lay there.

I went for'ard and found all the natives on deck, very excited and armed
with knives. Addressing them, I begged them to keep quiet and listen to
me.

"The captain and mates are all drunk," I said, "and now is your chance
to leave the ship. Funafuti is only a league away. Get your clothes
together as quickly as possible, then lower away the port quarter-boat.
I, too, am leaving this ship, and I want you to put me on board the
_Hazeldine_. Then you can go on shore. Now, put up your knives and don't
hurt those three men, beasts as they are."

As I was speaking, Max the bos'un came for'ard and listened. (I thought
he was asleep.) He did not interfere, merely giving me an expressive
look. Then he said to me:--

"Ask them to lock me up in the deck-house".

Very quietly this was done, and then, whilst I got together my personal
belongings in the cabin, the boat was lowered. The Yankee mate was sound
asleep in his bunk, but one of the Nuié men took the key of his door and
locked it from the outside. Presently I heard a sound of breaking wood,
and going on deck, found that the Gilbert Islanders had stove-in the
starboard quarter-boat and the long-boat (the latter was on deck).
Then I saw that the second mate was lashed (bound hand and foot) to
the pump-rail, and the captain was lashed to one of the fife-rail
stanchions. His face was streaming with blood, and I thought he was
dead, but found that he had only been struck with a belaying pin, which
had broken his nose.

"He drew a lot of blood from us," said one of the natives to me, "and so
I have drawn some from him."

I hurried to the deck-house and told the bos'un what had occurred. He
was a level-headed young man, and taking up a carpenter's broad axe,
smashed the door of the deck-house. Then he looked at me and smiled.

"You see, I'm gaining my liberty--captain and officers tied up, and no
one to look after the ship."

I understood perfectly, and shaking hands with him and wishing him
a better ship, I went over the side into the boat, and left the brig
floating quietly on the placid surface of the ocean.

The eight native sailors made no noise, although they were all wildly
excited and jubilant, but as we shoved off, they called out "Good-bye,
bos'un".

An hour afterwards I was on board the _Hazeldine_ and telling my story
to her skipper, who was an old friend. Then I bade good-bye to the
natives, who started off for Funafuti with many expressions of goodwill
to their fellow-mutineer.

At daylight a breeze came away from the eastward, and at breakfast time
the _Hazeldine_ was out of sight of the _Alfreda_.

I learnt a few months later that the skipper had succeeded in bringing
her into Funafuti Lagoon, where he managed to obtain another crew.




CHAPTER VI ~ "MÂNI"

Mâni was a half-caste--father a Martinique nigger, mother a
Samoan--twenty-two years of age, and lived at Moatâ, a little village
two miles from Apia in Samoa.

Mâni's husband was a Frenchman named François Renault, who, when he was
sober, worked as a boat-builder and carpenter, for the German "factory"
at Mataféle. And when he was away form home I would hear Mâni laughing,
and see her playing with her two dark-skinned little girls, and talking
to them in a curious mixture of Samoan-French. They were merry mites
with big rolling eyes, and unmistakably "kinky" hair--like their mother.

It was a fortnight after the great gale of 15th March, 1889, when the
six German and American warships were wrecked, that Mâni came to my
house with a basket of fresh-water fish she had netted far up in a deep
mountain pool. She looked very happy. "Frank," she said, had not beaten
her for two whole weeks, and had promised not to beat her any more. And
he was working very steadily now.

"That is good to hear, Mâni."

She smiled as she nodded her frizzy head, tossed her _tiputa_ (open
blouse) over one shoulder, and sat down on the verandah steps to clean
the fish.

"Yes, he will beat me no more--at least not whilst the shipwrecked
sailors remain in Samoa. When they go I shall run away with the
children--to some town in Savai'i where he cannot find me."

"It happened in this way," she went on confidentially: "a week ago two
American sailors came to the house and asked for water, for they
were thirsty and the sun was hot I told them that the Moatâ water was
brackish, and I husked and gave them two young coco-nuts each. And then
Frank, who had been drinking, ran out of the house and cursed and struck
me. Then one of the sailors felled him to the earth, and the other
dragged him up by his collar, and both kicked him so much that he wept.

"'Doth he often beat thee?' said one of the sailors to me. And I said
'Yes'.

"Then they beat him again, saying it was for my sake. And then one of
them shook him and said: 'O thou dog, to so misuse thine own wife! Now
listen. In three days' time we two of the _Trenton_ will have a day's
liberty, and we shall come here and see if thou hast again beaten thy
wife. And if thou hast but so much as _mata pio'd_ her we shall each
kick thee one hundred times.'"

(_Mata pio_, I must explain, is Samoan for looking "cross-eyed" or
unpleasantly at a person.)

"And Frank was very much afraid, and promised he would no longer harm
me, and held out his hand to them weepingly, but they would not take
it, and swore at him. And then they each gave my babies a quarter of
a dollar, and I, because my heart was glad, gave them each a ring of
tortoiseshell."

"Did they come back, Mâni?"

Mâni, at heart, was a flirt. She raised her big black eyes with their
long curling lashes to me, and then closed them for a moment demurely.

"Yes," she replied, "they came back. And when I told them that my
husband was now kind to me, and was at work, they laughed, and left for
him a long piece of strong tobacco tied round with tarred rope. And they
said, 'Tell him we will come again by-and-by, and see how he behaveth to
thee'."

"Mâni," said in English, as she finished the last of the fish, "why
do you speak Samoan to me when you know English so well? Where did you
learn it? Your husband always speaks French to you."

Mâni told me her story. In her short life of two-and-twenty years she
had had some strange experiences.

"My father was Jean Galoup. He was a negro of St. Pierre, in Martinique,
and came to Samoa in a French barque, which was wrecked on Tutuila.
He was one of the sailors. When the captain and the other sailors made
ready to go away in the boats he refused to go, and being a strong,
powerful man they dared not force him. So he remained on Tutuila and
married my mother, and became a Samoan, and made much money by selling
food to the whaleships. Then, when I was twelve years old, my mother
died, and my father took me to his own country--to Martinique. It took
us two years to get there, for we went through many countries--to Sydney
first, then to China, and to India, and then to Marseilles in France.
But always in English ships. That is how I have learned to speak
English.

"We lived for three years in Martinique, and then one day, as my father
was clearing some land at the foot of Mont Pelée, he was bitten by
_fer-de-lance_ and died, and I was left alone.

"There was a young carpenter at St. Pierre, named François Renault, who
had one day met me in the market-place, and after that often came to see
my father and me. He said he loved me, and so when my father was dead,
we went to the priest and we were married.

"My husband had heard much of Samoa from my father, and said to me: 'Let
us go there and live'.

"So we came here, and then Frank fell into evil ways, for he was cross
with me because he saw that the pure-blooded Samoan girls were prettier
than me, and had long straight hair and lighter skins. And because he
could not put me away he began to treat me cruelly. And I love him no
more. But yet will I stay by him if he doeth right."

The fates were kind to Mâni a few months later. Her husband went to sea
and never returned, and Mâni, after waiting a year, was duly married
by the consul to a respectable old trader on Savai'i, who wanted a wife
with a "character"--the which is not always obtainable with a bride in
the South Seas.




CHAPTER VII ~ AT NIGHT

The day's work was finished. Outside a cluster of rudely built
palm-thatched huts, just above the curving white beach, and under the
lengthening shadows of the silent cocos, two white men (my partner and
myself) and a party of brown-skinned Polynesians were seated together
smoking, and waiting for their evening meal. Now and then one would
speak, and another would answer in low, lazy tones. From an open shed
under a great jack-fruit tree a little distance away there came the
murmur of women's voices and, now and then, a laugh. They were the wives
of the brown men, and were cooking supper for their husbands and the two
white men. Half a cable length from the beach a schooner lay at anchor
upon the still lagoon, whose waters gleamed red under the rays of the
sinking sun. Covered with awnings fore and after she showed no sign of
life, and rested-as motionless as were the pendent branches of the lofty
cocos on the shore.

Presently a figure appeared on deck and went for'ard, and then a bright
light shone from the fore-stay.

My partner turned and called to the women, speaking in Hawaiian, and
bade two of them take their own and the ship-keeper's supper on board,
and stay for the night Then he spoke to the men in English.

"Who keeps watch to-night with the other man?"

"Me, sir," and a native rose to his feet.

"Then off you go with your wife and Terese, and don't set the ship on
fire when you and your wife, and Harry and his begin squabbling as usual
over your game of _tahia_."{*}

     * "Tahia" is a gambling game played with small round stones;
     it resembles our "knuckle-bones".

The man laughed; the women, pretending to be shocked, each placed one
hand over her eyes, and with suppressed giggles went down to the beach
with the man, carrying a basket of steaming food. Launching a light
canoe they pushed off, and as the man paddled the women sang in the soft
Hawaiian tongue.

"Happy beggars," said my comrade to me, as he stood up and stretched his
lengthy, stalwart figure, "work all day, and sit up gambling and singing
hymns--when they are not intriguing with each other's husbands and
wives."

The place was Providence Atoll in the North Pacific, a group of
seventeen uninhabited islands lying midway between the Marshall and
Caroline Archipelagoes--that is to say, that they had been uninhabited
for some years, until we came there with our gang of natives to catch
sharks and make coco-nut oil. There was no one to deny us, for the man
who claimed the islands, Captain "Bully" Hayes, had given us the right
of possession for two years, we to pay him a certain percentage of our
profits on the oil we made, and the sharks' fins and tails we cured.
The story of Providence Atoll (the "Arrecifos" of the early Spanish
navigators, and the "Ujilang" of the native of Micronesia) cannot here
be told--suffice it to say that less than fifty years before over
a thousand people dwelt on the seventeen islands in some twelve or
fourteen villages. Then came some dread disease which swept them away,
and when Hayes sailed into the great lagoon in 1860--his was the first
ship that ever entered it--he found less than a score of survivors.
These he treated kindly; but for some reason soon removed them to Ponapé
in the Carolines, and then years passed without the island being visited
by any one except Hayes, who used it as a rendezvous, and brought other
natives there to make oil for him. Then, in a year or so, these, too,
he took away, for he was a restless man, and had many irons in the fire.
Yet there was a fortune there, as its present German owners know, for
the great chain of islands is covered with coco-nut trees which yield
many thousands of pounds' worth of copra annually.

My partner and I had been working the islands for some months, and had
done fairly well. Our native crew devoted themselves alternately to
shark catching and oil making. The lagoon swarmed with sharks, the fins
and tails of which when dried were worth from sixty to eighty pounds
sterling per ton. (Nowadays the entire skins of sharks are bought by
some of the traders on several of the Pacific Islands on behalf of a
firm in Germany, who have a secret method of tanning and softening
them, and rendering them fit for many purposes for which leather is
used--travelling bags, coverings for trunks, etc.)

The women helped to make the oil, caught fish, robber-crabs and turtle
for the whole party, and we were a happy family indeed. We usually lived
on shore, some distance from the spot where we dried the shark-fins, for
the odour was appalling, especially after rain, and during a calm night.
We dried them by hanging them on long lines of coir cinnet between the
coco-palms of a little island half a mile from our camp.

But we did not always work. There were many wild pigs--the progeny of
domestic stock left by Captain Hayes--on the larger islands, and we
would have great "drives" every few weeks, the skipper and I with our
rifles, and our crew of fifteen, with their wives and children, armed
with spears. 'Twas great fun, and we revelled in it like children.
Sometimes we would bring the ship's dog with us. He was a mongrel
Newfoundland, and very game, but was nearly shot several times by
getting in the way, for although all the islands are very low, the
undergrowth in parts is very dense. If we failed to secure a pig we were
certain of getting some dozens of large robber-crabs, the most delicious
of all crustaceans when either baked or boiled. Then, too, we had
the luxury of a vegetable garden, in which we grew melons, pumpkins,
cucumbers, onions, tomatoes, etc. The seed (which was Californian) had
been given to me by an American skipper, and great was our delight to
have fresh European vegetables, for the islands produced nothing in
that way, except coconuts and some jack-fruit. The lagoon teemed with
an immense variety of fish, none of which were poisonous, and both green
and hawk-bill turtle were captured almost daily.

How those natives of ours could eat! One morning some of the children
brought five hundred turtle eggs into camp; they were all eaten at three
meals.

That calm, quiet night the heat was somewhat oppressive, but about ten
o'clock a faint air from the eastward began to gently rustle the tops of
the loftiest palms on the inner beaches, though we felt it not, owing to
the dense undergrowth at the back of the camp. Then, too, the mosquitoes
were troublesome, and a nanny-goat, who had lost her kid (in the oven)
kept up such an incessant blaring that we could stand it no longer,
and decided to walk across the island--less than a mile--to the weather
side, where we should not only get the breeze, but be free of the curse
of mosquitoes.

"Over to the windward beach," we called out to our natives.

In an instant, men, women and children were on their feet. Torches of
dried coco-nut leaves were deftly woven by the women, sleeping mats
rolled up and given to the children to carry, baskets of cold baked fish
and vegetables hurriedly taken down from where they hung under the eaves
of the thatched huts, and away we trooped eastward along the
narrow path, the red glare of the torches shining upon the smooth,
copper-bronzed and half-nude figures of the native men and women.
Singing as we went, half an hour's walk brought us near to the sea. And
with the hum of the surf came the cool breeze, as we reached the open,
and saw before us the gently heaving ocean, sleeping under the light of
the myriad stars.

We loved those quiet nights on the weather side of Arrecifos. Our
natives had built some thatched-roofed, open-sided huts as a protection
in case of rain, and under the shelter of one of these the skipper and
I would, when it rained during the night, lie on our mats and smoke
and yarn and watch the women and children with lighted torches catching
crayfish on the reef, heedless of the rain which fell upon them. Then,
when they had caught all they wanted, they would troop on shore again,
come into the huts, change their soaking waist girdles of leaves for
waist-cloths of gaily-coloured print or navy-blue calico, and set to
work to cook the crayfish, always bringing us the best. Then came a
general gossip and story-telling or singing in our hut for an hour
or so, and then some one would yawn and the rest would laugh, bid us
good-night, go off to their mats, and the skipper and I would be asleep
ere we knew it.




CHAPTER VIII ~ THE CRANKS OF THE _JULIA_ BRIG

We were bound from Tahiti to the Gilbert Islands, seeking a cargo of
native labourers for Stewart's great plantation at Tahiti, and had
worked our way from island to island up northward through the group
with fair success (having obtained ninety odd stalwart, brown-skinned
savages), when between Apaian Island and Butaritari Island we spoke a
lumbering, fat-sided old brig--the _Isabella_ of Sydney.

The _Isabella_ was owned by a firm of Chinese merchants in Sydney;
and as her skipper (Evers) and her supercargo (Dick Warren) were old
acquaintances of mine and also of the captain of my ship, we both
lowered boats and exchanged visits.

Warren and I had not met for over two years, since he and I had been
shipmates in a labour vessel sailing out of Samoa--he as mate and I as
"recruiter"--so we had much to talk about.

"Oh, by-the-way," he remarked as we were saying good-bye, "of course you
have heard of that shipload of unwashed saints who have been cruising
around the South Seas in search of a Promised Land?"

"Yes, I believe that they have gone off to Tonga or Fiji, trying to
light upon 'the Home Beautiful,' and are very hard up. The people in
Fiji will have nothing to do with that crowd--if they have gone there."

"They have not. They turned back for Honolulu, and are now at Butaritari
and in an awful mess. Some of the saints came on board and wanted me to
give them a passage to Sydney. You must go and have a look at them and
their rotten old brig, the _Julia_. Oh, they are a lovely lot--full of
piety and as dirty as Indian fakirs. Ah Sam, our agent at Butaritari,
will tell you all about them. He has had such a sickener of the holy
men that it will do you good to hear him talk. What the poor devils are
going to do I don't know. I gave them a little provisions--all I could
spare, but their appearance so disgusted me that I was not too civil
to them. They cannot get away from Butaritari as the old brig is not
seaworthy, and there is nothing in the way of food to be had in the
island except coco-nuts and fish--manna is out of season in the South
Seas just now. Good-bye, old man, and good luck."

On the following day we sighted Butaritari Island--one of the largest
atolls in the North Pacific, and inhabited by a distinctly unamiable
and cantankerous race of Malayo-Polynesians whose principal amusement
in their lighter hours is to get drunk on sour toddy and lacerate each
other's bodies with sharks' teeth swords. In addition to Ah Sam, the
agent for the Chinese trading firm, there were two European traders who
had married native women and eked out a lonely existence by buying copra
(dried coco-nut) and sharks' fins when they were sober enough to attend
to business--which was infrequent. However, Butaritari was a good
recruiting ground for ships engaged in the labour traffic, owing to the
continuous internecine wars, for the vanquished parties, after their
coco-nut trees had been cut down and their canoes destroyed had the
choice of remaining and having their throats cut or going away in a
labour ship to Tahiti, Samoa or the Sandwich Islands.

Entering the passage through the reef, we sailed slowly across the
splendid lagoon, whose waters were as calm as those of a lake, and
dropped anchor abreast of the principal village and quite near the ship
of the saints. She was a woe-begone, battered-looking old brig of two
hundred tons or so. She showed no colours in response to ours, and we
could see no one on deck. Presently, however, we saw a man emerge from
below, then a woman, and presently a second man, and in a few minutes
she showed the Ecuadorian flag. Then all three sat on chairs under the
ragged awning and stared listlessly at our ship.

Ah Sam came off from the shore and boarded us. He was a long, melancholy
Chinaman, had thirty-five hairs of a beard, and, poor fellow, was dying
of consumption. He told us the local news, and then I asked him
about the cargo of saints, many more of whom were now visible on the
after-deck of their disreputable old crate.

Ah Sam's thin lips parted in a ghastly smile, as he set down his whisky
and soda, and lit a cigar. We were seated under the awning, which had
just been spread, and so had a good view of the _Julia_.

The brig, he said, had managed to crawl into the lagoon three months
previously, and in working up to an anchorage struck on one of the coral
mushrooms with which the atoll is studded. Ah Sam and the two
white traders went off with their boats' crews of natives to render
assistance, and after some hours' hard work succeeded in getting her
off and towing her up to the spot where she was then anchored. Then the
saints gathered on the after-deck and held a thanksgiving meeting, at
the conclusion of which, the thirsty and impatient traders asked the
captain to give them and their boats' crews a few bottles of liquor in
return for their services in pulling his brig off the rocks, and when he
reproachfully told them that the _Julia_ was a temperance ship and that
drink was a curse and that God would reward them for their kindness,
they used most awful language and went off, cursing the captain and the
saints for a lot of mean blackguards and consigning them to everlasting
torments.

On the following day all the Hawaiian crew bolted on shore and took up
their quarters with the natives. The captain came on shore and tried to
get other natives in their place, but failed--for he had no money to pay
wages, but offered instead the privilege of becoming members of what Ah
Sam called some "dam fool society".

There were, said Ah Sam, in addition to the captain and his wife,
originally twenty-five passengers, but half of them had left the ship at
various ports.

"And now," he concluded, pointing a long yellow forefinger at the
rest of the saints, "the rest of them will be coming to see you
presently--the tam teives--to see wha' they can cadge from you."

"You don't like them, Ah Sam?" observed our skipper, with a twinkle in
his eye.

Ah Sam's reply could not be put upon paper. For a Chinaman he could
swear in English most fluently. Then he bade us good-bye for the
present, said he would do all he could to help me get some "recruits,"
and invited us to dinner with him in the evening. He was a good-natured,
hospitable fellow, and we accepted the invitation with pleasure.

A few minutes after he had gone on shore the brigantine's boat came
alongside, and her captain and three of his passengers stepped on board.
He introduced himself as Captain Lynch Richards, and his friends as
Brothers So-and-So of the "Islands Brothers' Association of Christians
". They were a dull, melancholy looking lot, Richards alone showing some
mental and physical activity. Declining spirituous refreshments, they
all had tea and something to eat. Then they asked me if I would let them
have some provisions, and accept trade goods in payment.

As they had no money--except about one hundred dollars between them--I
let them have what provisions we could spare, and then accepted their
invitation to visit the _Julia_.

I went with them in their own boat--two of the saints pulling--and as
they flopped the blades of their oars into the water and I studied their
appearance, I could not but agree with Dick Warren's description--"as
dirty as Indian fakirs," for not only were their garments dirty, but
their faces looked as if they had not come into contact with soap and
water for a twelvemonth. Richards, the skipper, was a comparatively
young man, and seemed to have given some little attention to his attire,
for he was wearing a decent suit of navy blue with a clean collar and
tie.

Getting alongside we clambered on deck--there was no side ladder--and I
was taken into the cabin where Richards introduced me to his wife. She
was a pretty, fragile-looking young woman of about five and twenty years
of age, and looked so worn out and unhappy that my heart was filled with
pity. During the brief conversation we held I asked her if she and her
husband would come on board our vessel in the afternoon and have tea,
and mentioned that we had piles and piles of books and magazines on the
ship to which she could help herself.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I guess I should like to," she said as she
looked at her husband.

Then I was introduced to the rest of the company in turn, as they
sat all round the cabin, half a dozen of them on the transom lockers
reminding me somehow of dejected and meditative storks. Glad of an
excuse to get out of the stuffy and ill-ventilated cabin and the
uninspiring society of the unwashed Brethren, I eagerly assented to the
captain's suggestion to have a look round the ship before we "talked
business," _i.e_., concerning the trade goods I was to select in payment
for the provisions with which I had supplied him. One of the Brethren,
an elderly, goat-faced person, came with us, and we returned on deck.

Never before had I seen anything like the _Julia_. She was an old,
soft-pine-built ex-Puget Sound lumberman, literally tumbling to decay,
aloft and below. Her splintering decks, to preserve them somewhat from
the torrid sun, were covered over with old native mats, and her spars,
from want of attention, were splitting open in great gaping cracks, and
were as black as those of a collier. How such a craft made the voyage
from San Francisco to Honolulu, and from there far to the south of the
Line and then back north to the Gilbert Group, was a marvel.

I was taken down the hold and showed what the "cranks" called their
trade goods and asked to select what I thought was a fair thing in
exchange for the provisions I had given them. Heavens! Such a collection
of utter, utter rubbish! second-hand musical boxes in piles, gaudy
lithographs, iron bedsteads, "brown paper" boots and shoes eaten half
away by cockroaches. Sets of cheap and nasty toilet ware, two huge cases
of common and much damaged wax dolls, barrels of rotted dried apples,
and decayed pork, an ice-making plant, bales and bales of second-hand
clothing--men's, women's and children's--cheap and poisonous sweets in
jars, thousands of twopenny looking-glasses, penny whistles, accordions
that wouldn't accord, as the cockroaches had eaten them up except the
wood and metal work, school slates and pencils, and a box of Bibles and
Moody and Sankey hymn-books. And the smell was something awful! I asked
the captain what was the cause of it--it overpowered even the horrible
odour of the decayed pork and rotted apples. He replied placidly that he
thought it came from a hundred kegs of salted salmon bellies which were
stowed below everything else, and that he "guessed some of them hed
busted".

"It is enough to breed a pestilence," I said; "why do you not all
turn-to, get the stuff up and heave it overboard? You must excuse me,
captain, but for Heaven's sake let us get on deck."

On returning to the poop we found that the skipper of our vessel had
come on board, and was conversing with Mrs. Richards. I took him aside
and told him of what I had seen, and suggested that we should make them
a present of the provisions. He quite agreed with me, so turning to
Captain Richards and the goat-faced old man and several other of the
Brethren who had joined them, I said that the captain and I hoped that
they would accept the provisions from us, as we felt sure that our
owners would not mind. And I also added that we would send them a few
bags of flour and some other things during the course of the day. And
then the captain, knowing that Captain Richards and his wife were coming
to have tea with us, took pity on the Brethren and said, he hoped they
would all come to breakfast in the morning.

Poor beggars. Grateful! Of course they were, and although they were
sheer lunatics--religious lunatics such as the United States produces by
tens of thousands every year--we felt sincerely sorry for them when they
told us their miserable story. The spokesman was an old fellow of sixty
with long flowing hair--the brother-in-law of the man with the goat's
face--and an enthusiast But mad--mad as a hatter.

"The Islands Brothers' Association of Christians" had its genesis in
Philadelphia. It was formed "by a few pious men to found a settlement in
the South Seas, till the soil, build a temple, instruct the savages,
and live in peace and happiness". Twenty-eight persons joined and seven
thousand dollars were raised in one way and another--mostly from other
lunatics. Many "sympathisers" gave goods, food, etc., to help the cause
(hence the awful rubbish in the hold), and at 'Frisco they spent one
thousand five hundred dollars in buying "trade goods to barter with
the simple natives". At 'Frisco the _Julia_, then lying condemned, was
bought for a thousand dollars--she was not worth three hundred dollars,
and was put under the Ecuadorian flag. "God sent them friends in
Captain Richards and his wife," ambled on the old man. Richards became a
"Brother" and joined them to sail the ship and find an island "rich
and fertile in God's gifts to man, and with a pleasant people dwelling
thereon".

With a scratch crew of 'Frisco dead beats the brig reache