Pitt’s Island.—Knox and Charlotte’s Islands.—Base Conduct.—
Thieving.—Jack and Manuel.—Almost a “dead Nigger.”—Bark “Belle.”—
Ship “Boy.”—Wreck of the “Flying Fox.”—Plundered by the Natives.—
Hall’s Island.—Desertion.—My Man Friday.—A wet Berth again.—Ship
“Hector.”—Anxiety for Letters.—A Canoe in distress.—
A heart-rending Sight.—Gratitude of the Natives.—Pleasant
Island.—Its Natives.—Murder of white Men.—Brig “Inga.”—Thieves
again.—Search-warrant issued.—Property found, Culprit tried and
punished.—A heavy Squall.—Strong’s Island.
We were now getting down to the more westward of the group,
and on Sunday, the 25th, saw Pitt’s Island. This is one of the
finest-looking islands of the whole group; the land being higher,
with more verdure. The next day we saw Knox’s Island. The natives
of this and Charlotte’s Island are now at war, instigated, we are
sorry to learn, by the base conduct of an American whaling captain,
who has taken sides with one party, and who takes great pleasure in
slaughtering those of the other side.
Whenever the boats are off after whales, a certain number of the
ship’s company remain on board to work the ship, who are called
“ship-keepers.” One of these ship-keepers was “Nigger Jack,” whom,
the reader will recollect, we shipped at Payta. It appears he was in
the habit, at these times, of going down into the forecastle, and
pilfering whatever he saw that would strike his fancy. He also was
troubled very much with a sweet tooth, and would help himself to the
other men’s allowance of molasses, not touching his own. This kind
of work went on for some time, and, as the men could prove nothing,
they kept quiet and waited, Micawber-like, for something to “turn up.”
The opportunity soon came. The boats were all off after whales, and
our Spanish darkey was, as usual, spending his time below, when one
of the other ship-keepers, going into the forecastle, caught him in
the very act of helping himself to molasses from the allowance of
Portugee Manuel. He said nothing to him, however, but waited until
the men returned for the opportunity of “opening the ball.” It so
happened that, on this occasion, the men were down all day, from 7
A.M. to 8 P.M., with little or no food, and came on board, without
having fastened, nearly exhausted with pulling, hungry as bears,
and in none of the best of humors. Supper was sent down, and Manuel
went to his keg to get some molasses for his “duff,” but, to his
surprise, found it empty! His Gee blood was up in an instant, and he
sang out, “What man been takey my molass?” Some one replied, “Nigger
Jack;” and, before the darkey could contradict it, the heavy molasses
keg struck him, bim! full in the face. The blood flew on all sides,
and he ran for the deck, and, fully believing that he was about to
“kick the bucket,” commenced chanting the Paternoster, occasionally
interspersing it with exclamations of “Muerto! muerto!” signifying
“Killed! killed!” in a most pitiful tone. But he was suddenly
interrupted by an order from aft to present himself. He crawled off,
and, after a long time, succeeded in making the captain understand
what the difficulty was. Manuel was now sent for, who sputtered out
his side of the story, in half English and half Portugee, to the
no small amusement of the captain and officers, and appeals to the
person who saw the theft committed. The old man reprimanded Manuel
for throwing molasses kegs, and told the Spaniard that if the men
caught him stealing again, they would, in all probability, kill him
outright, and sent him off about his business. There is nothing so
much despised on board ship as these petty thefts, and he who commits
them generally leads a hard life.
We here saw the bark “Belle,” of Fairhaven, Captain Handy. This
vessel was engaged in trading at the different islands for cocoanut
oil, which was sold in Sydney, New South Wales.
On Thursday, September 26th, we picked up part of a ship’s topmast,
and, on sighting Sydenham’s Island, discovered the hull of a vessel
fast ashore on the reef, with her lower masts standing. Our captain
intended to take a boat and ascertain something in regard to this
ill-fated vessel, but the wind died away before we approached within
a proper distance, and the current soon drifted us far away.
The next day we spoke the “Boy,” of Warren, Captain Luce. From him we
ascertained the vessel ashore at Sydenham’s to be the bark “Flying
Fox,” of Hobarton, Van Diemen’s Land, Captain Brown, who, with
his lady, and several of the officers and crew, were on board the
“Boy.” It appears, by the captain’s statement, that on the morning
of the 25th they were sailing along with a fine breeze, all sail
set, when they were suddenly startled by the ship striking a reef
which projected two or three miles from the island, and was not
laid down on the charts. The topmasts were all carried away by the
shock; the ship was fast on the reef; and, had there been a heavy
swell, she would have gone to pieces immediately. As all hopes of
saving the ship were at an end, on seeing their situation they took
to their boats as soon as possible. Already were the decks crowded
with natives, who had begun the work of plunder, helping themselves
to whatever they wished. They obtained possession of the spades,
and were ready and willing to fight, if necessary. The captain had
to work very cautiously to get his wife into the boat without being
seen by the natives; and, closely veiled, she was placed in the boat,
choosing the mercy of the winds and waves rather than that of a
barbarous set of cannibals, in whose hands she would have suffered
worse than death.
The next day, the boat containing the captain and lady, with some of
the crew, were picked up by the “Boy.” The remainder of the crew, it
was supposed, had gone to Woodle’s or Simpson’s Island. The captain
of the “Boy,” on learning the particulars of the sad accident,
proceeded immediately to the wreck; but the natives had not been
idle; they had carried off every thing of value, and that which they
valued not had been destroyed by them. The water and oil casks had
been stove for the sake of the iron hoops which bound them.
On Thursday, October 3d, we traded with the natives of Hall’s Island.
Cocoanut oil is the principal trade brought off here. The natives on
the islands north of the equator look much better than those of the
same group situated south of it.
We were now getting short of water, and the captain determined to
land a raft of casks at Pitt’s Island, leave them for the natives
to fill, and return for them in a few days. Accordingly, on the
16th, we sent a raft ashore, three boats towing it. We had now been
out of port nearly seven months, and most of the crew were becoming
discontented—thought it was about time they had a run ashore, etc.;
and some of them expressed the determination to have it, if the
opportunity offered, at Pitt’s Island. The officers having charge of
the boats were ordered not to land, but to deliver the raft to the
natives and return immediately to the ship. The third mate, however,
who was one of the disaffected, instead of doing this, pulled close
in shore, and told his men, if they wished, they could go; he should
not hinder them. Two of them immediately jumped out of the boat
and went ashore; the boats returned to the ship; and the captain
and third mate had some rather plain conversation in regard to the
affair. It ended, however, in the old man’s leaving a reward for
them, and we made sail.
We took from this island a noble-looking, fine-built native, who is a
chief of some importance; but he wished to try his hand at whaling,
as near as we could understand by his signs, for he could speak but
little English. The captain bestowed upon him the name of Friday,
which suited him just as well as any other. He soon became a general
favorite with all hands, was very good-natured, quick to learn, as
spry as a cat, and as strong as a giant.
We visited the island again on Tuesday, the 22d, for our raft of
water. We there learned that the two deserters had sailed in the bark
“Belle,” for Sydney, the day previous.
An amusing little incident, common to whaling, but still enough of
interest to make it worth relating, occurred on Saturday, 16th of
November. The waist-boat had fastened to a cow whale, and were going
along very smoothly, when she suddenly sounded, and, by some means,
drew the bow of the boat down with her sufficient to “end it over,”
and spill out the whole crew very unexpectedly. It happened that
two of the men were unable to swim, and, strange as it may appear,
they were the first to scramble on to the bottom of the boat (which
was upset), and that without _wetting a hair of their head_; and so
anxious were they to _keep dry_, that they kept the boat rolling over
and over, they meanwhile scrambling in the most ludicrous manner.
After a little time, and partly by the threats of the second mate and
their own fears, they became quiet, and remained so until they were
picked up. The whale was killed by one of the other boats, and was
soon cut in and tried out.
Monday, November 18th, was a very clear and calm day, not a breath
of air stirring, and “old Jamaica” coming down with a vengeance. At
daylight the look-out from masthead raised a sail a long distance
off. About 1 P.M., “Boat ho!” was the cry, and it proved to be a
boat pulling to us from the ship in the distance. About 3 they came
alongside, and reported themselves to be from the ship “Hector,”
of New Bedford, Captain Smith. They had pulled about sixteen
miles, under the scorching sun of the equator, with not a breath
of air stirring, merely to ascertain if we had letters for them.
They were about three years out, and had heard that we were on the
cruising-ground, and on raising us that morning hoped it might prove
to be the “Emily Morgan;” and such was their anxiety for letters from
their friends at home that they gladly pulled this long distance. We
were glad that their labor met with its reward, for they received
a large package, and soon forgot their fatigue amid the excitement
incident to receiving news after so long an absence. About 5 P.M. a
light breeze sprung up, and they left us in high spirits.
As we were cruising along on Wednesday, November 19th, with no land
in sight, we saw a large canoe, which appeared at the mercy of
winds and waves. We immediately bore down to it, and found that it
contained twenty-two natives in a starving condition. We lowered
a boat, towed them to the ship, and found them so much reduced as
to be hardly able to speak, and could get them in on deck only by
slinging them in a “boatswain’s chair” and hoisting them in. The
canoe was cut adrift after taking out and sinking the dead body of
a boy, apparently about fourteen, which it contained. Some of them
presented a wretched and distressing appearance; they were nothing
but skin and bones, and scarcely that. In several cases the skin on
the joints was broken, and the bones had worked through. We went to
work and cleared out the “blubber-room,” and by spreading mats around
made it very comfortable for them. Their constant cry was “Ki ki”
(eat). We prepared some farina, and fed them cautiously; but they
acted more like a pack of ravenous wolves than like human beings. By
the aid of Friday, our Pitt’s Island native, we learned the following
particulars: They left their island (Charlotte’s) for another on
account of the war raging there, but lost their reckoning, and the
current, which sets very strongly to the northwest, swept them off.
They had been so drifting for six weeks, and during that time had no
food except a shark, which they captured. Four of their number had
died, two men and two children. Seven of them were females, two of
whom had nursing infants. The poor creatures would fall into a short
slumber, and awake crying for food. It was truly a heart-rending
sight, but we felt assured every thing that could be had been done
to render them comfortable. They endeavored, too, to express their
heartfelt gratitude to us by signs, and would cry, “Mortarkee
kiabuka” (good ship). As we were near Pleasant Island, the captain
determined to land them there.
Accordingly, we sighted it on the morning of Friday, the 21st. About
9 A.M. canoes began to flock off to us in great numbers, and the
natives whom we had picked up were sent ashore in them. They had
so far regained their strength as to be able to move about quite
briskly. The chief addressed the captain in his own language, which
was translated by Friday as far as lay in his power, to the effect
that they were very grateful to the captain and all hands for the
kind treatment they had received; and as the poor grateful beings
shook hands with us on passing over the gangway, tears of gratitude
trickled down their tawny cheeks. They were placed in the canoes,
waved their hands feebly, and started for the shore.
Pleasant Island is a very beautiful island, and well does it deserve
its name, if we say nothing of its inhabitants. It is moderately
high, and more thickly covered with verdure than any island of the
group. The natives are the most finely-built of any we have yet
seen—large, athletic, and ferocious-appearing, presenting quite a
contrast to some of the diminutive natives of the Windward Islands.
They speak a different language, also, from that of the natives
of the other islands, though but a few degrees apart. They appear
far superior to them in shrewdness and cunning, it being much
harder to drive a trade with them. The females are very small, very
good-looking, and some of them quite handsome, several shades lighter
than the men, and much lighter than those of the other islands. We
bought quite a number of fowl, and some hogs of the regular _racer_
breed, Berkshires not having been introduced here.
A white man came off from this island, and wished the captain to
ship him, as he was afraid to remain on shore. He reported that,
the day before, five white men had been murdered by the natives. A
part of them were from the ill-fated “Flying Fox.” It appears that
they had landed at this island perfectly destitute, and some of the
white men residing there, fearing the chiefs would take them under
their protection and allow them to remain, thereby diminishing their
chances of trade with ships, persuaded the leading chiefs that they
came there for the purpose of taking the island and poisoning all the
Kanakas. They are so superstitions that, no matter how absurd the
story, they believe the white man capable of doing any thing. At the
instigation of these rascally “beach-combers” residing on the island,
the poor fellows were butchered in a manner too horrible to relate.
This man informed us that his life had been repeatedly threatened,
and, had not he had the influence of one of the highest chiefs on the
island, he would have shared the same horrid fate as the others. The
captain informed him he could go with us, at which he was greatly
rejoiced.
We spoke the brig “Inga,” of New Bedford, Captain Barnes, on Sunday,
the 24th. We had here an opportunity of sending letters home _via_
Sydney, New South Wales, as she was bound there with a cargo of
cocoanut oil. Captain B. reported that, a few days previous, his
steward and seven of his crew took a boat in the night-time and
deserted. The steward stole about three hundred dollars from the
captain’s state-room, a sextant, quadrant, and charts; the crew
took provisions and water. He supposed they had gone to some of the
Windward Islands.
Our “Spanish Jack” has got himself in trouble again. For several
weeks complaints had been made by nearly all of the crew that their
tobacco was disappearing very fast and very mysteriously. From
the fact that Jack never bought any, had but little when he came
on board, and was continually smoking, he was strongly suspected.
One fine morning the captain ordered the mate to go forward and
search the Spaniard’s chest. Accordingly, the chest was hauled out
and opened. It was well filled with clothing, all new, that he
had bought and never worn, which he was keeping, he said, to wear
ashore. On looking _deeper_, several knives were found, which were
claimed by some of the crew, and various small articles, which he
had pilfered at different times from different persons. Finally, the
mate found a large quantity of tobacco, and a tin box belonging to
the captain’s son, which he had taken from the binnacle while at the
helm. The guilty Spaniard was brought aft, seized by his wrists to
the mizzen rigging, his back bared, and a slight dose of “hemp tea”
administered, said to be a very excellent remedy for the disease
which troubled Jack so much, viz., sticky fingers. He called on all
the saints in the calendar to come to his assistance, but they very
politely refused, as it is believed they did not _strongly_ object to
the medicine being administered. It had one good effect, to say the
least; it made him _promise_ that he would never steal again while
on board the ship, no matter how small the value of the article. And,
in justice to him, we will say that he kept his promise, not from
want of a _desire_ to steal, but from _fear of punishment_.
The idea of flogging a human being is certainly shocking, and the
poor fellow who receives it generally has the pity and sympathies of
his shipmates; but in this case all hands felt that the culprit got
no more than his deserts, for the true sailor _despises_ a thief. The
sailor is proverbially charitable; he will see a shipmate want for
nothing so long as he can supply that want, even to dividing his last
crust; and it is not given grudgingly, but with his whole heart.
We were now making the passage to Strong’s Island, and, on the night
of Friday, December 6th, were struck with a severe squall, laying
the ship almost on her beam ends. All hands were called to take in
sail, but, before the men could get on deck, away went mainsail,
foretopsail, and jib. Whew! how the wind whistled and howled! It
was impossible for the captain to make himself understood amid
the deafening roar of the winds; and the waves, madly pitching
and tossing the ship to and fro, seemed to wish to ingulf her in
their bosom. It was grand, yet terrible. By dint of hard labor we
succeeded finally in reducing the sail, so that she rode easy through
the night, the gale continuing with almost unabated fury. The next
day a tremendous whirlwind passed astern of us about a mile, and
it was through the mercy of GOD alone that we escaped it. The gale
continued, with more or less rain, until Wednesday, December 11th,
when Strong’s Island hove in sight, distant about eighty miles.