Close of the first “Season” on Japan.—Making Passage to the
Group.—“Land ho!”.—“Breathing-places for Sailors.”—Henderville’s
Island.—Unpleasant Prospect.—Narrow Escape from the Breakers.—A
large Whale.—An ugly Customer.—Ocean Island Dick.—Ocean
Island.—“Some Pumpkins.”—Bound for Strong’s Island.—Calms.—“Blow,
ye gentle Breezes.”—At our “Hotel” once more.—Hospitality of the
Natives.—A diabolical Scheme.—Anger of the King.—Narrow Escape of
all Hands from Poisoning.—Wilds and the Queen.—A sudden
Awakening.—Wild Boar.—Join in the Chase.—Brave Men.—The Boar
presented in great State to the King.—Bravery of the “White
Man.”—“Hog not Dog.”—At sea again.
At the close of our first “season” on Japan, we found ourselves with
two hundred and fifty barrels more of oil than when we came on to the
ground, and we felt greater encouragement, though we were yet very
poorly off, being nearly two years from home, with but five hundred
and fifty barrels. However, the weather admonished us that we must
be leaving those regions; and accordingly, on the 10th of September,
we pointed the “Emily’s” head to the southward, and, crowding on the
“kites,” we were soon in pleasant weather, making passage to our old
ground, the Group.
On the morning of Thursday, September 18th, we were aroused by the
soul-cheering cry of “Land ho!” In a moment all hands were in the
rigging to catch a glimpse of the land. All strained their eyes with
eager excitement to once more view a _green spot_. We had now been
cruising nearly five months, and during that time we had seen nothing
that resembled land, and but two ships. Sailing in the midst of the
vast North Pacific, and cruising week after week, month after month,
nothing new, nothing to change the monotony so usual to shipboard,
all at once rose to our view a beautiful island densely covered with
dark green foliage, the tall cocoanut-trees nodding a welcome as
they waved their sweeping branches to and fro; and as we drew near
to the land, the neat huts of the natives peering through the leafy
opening, with the white sand-beach, a delightful clear atmosphere,
with a fine breeze, the old ship standing on in majesty, all combined
to make it a scene refreshing to behold—one of beauty and loveliness.
Truly have these islands been denominated “breathing-places for
sailors.” After beating about, enduring gales and storms, and meeting
with no living beings upon the trackless ocean, to be ushered into
the presence of one of these lovely “sea-girt isles” fills the
beholder with the most joyous feelings, and convinces him that
he is yet in the land of the living. We found ourselves, almost
unconsciously we might say, offering our thanks and praises to the
Giver of all good for His protecting power through the dangers and
storms of our voyage thus far, and trusting that we should ere long
be restored to those we so dearly loved.
But we were now to cruise for a few months among these islands. On
Tuesday, September 21st, we were in sight of Henderville’s Island. At
sunset, being about eight miles distant from the land, the wind died
away, leaving every thing calm, the surface of the water unruffled,
not a breath of air stirring, and the sails idly hanging or flapping
themselves to and fro. The current was rapidly setting us in-shore.
About eight o’clock we lowered a boat, and found we were drifting
toward the reef at the rate of two miles per hour. The lights of the
native fishermen along the reefs were plainly visible, and the roar
of the breakers came to our ears in thunder tones, that sent a thrill
through every heart, sounding like a death-knell, or the roaring of
some monster anxious for his prey. That land which had appeared so
beautiful to us but a few days previous was now hateful to our sight,
and oh! how we longed for “plenty of sea-room” again. That island
might truly be a “breathing-place” for us, but we feared it would be
our last “breathing-place,” for we well knew the disposition of its
natives, and were well aware that, should our ship be lost, there
was no mercy to be expected from those rapacious savages. Serious
thoughts for once filled the mind of every man on board: the visions
of those happy homes far away—were we never to visit those homes
again? The memories of the many happy days spent with friends—were
we never again to enjoy them? After battling the elements thus far,
after passing through so many dangers, were we thus to perish—to be
thus massacred by a horde of merciless savages, and no one, perhaps,
to tell our friends when and how we died? Oh! it was horrible to
think of, and caused a shudder of anguish to pass through our every
frame. And yet nothing but the interposition of a kind and merciful
Providence could avert this fate. Slowly but surely were we drifting
into those fatal breakers, and one hour more, one short hour, we felt
must decide our fate. Oh, for a breeze! in vain we look for it; in
vain we wished for it. All was calm and unruffled.
As a last resort, the boats were ordered out, and all hands sprang
into them as they never sprang before, and commenced towing the ship.
For four long hours did those noble men work at the oars, a battle
between life and death, each seemingly striving for the mastery. We
were just able, by this constant tugging at the oars, “to hold our
own,” to stem the current. About one o’clock in the morning a breeze
sprang up, and never, never was wind so welcomed. All hands gave
one simultaneous shout, “We are saved!” and returned to the ship
with joyous hearts. We could not but thank our heavenly Father for
thus preserving us from the horrible fate that at one time seemed so
certainly to await us.
Glad indeed were we to be delivered from this fate, and we now
directed our course toward Ocean Island. On the morning of Thursday,
September 25th, at daylight, the welcome shout was heard, “There she
blows! A large whale!” Instantly the boats were down, and all hands
gave chase. We discovered the whale had been fastened to by some
other ship, as he had two irons in him, with a long line trailing
behind. The larboard, or mate’s, boat soon fastened; the whale
sounding heavily, a signal was made for “more line,” and the bow
boat ran down, and passed to them their line; the whale continued
to sound, taking out nearly eight hundred fathom (4800 feet), until
the irons drew. In a short time the whale made his appearance; the
boats again renewed the chase. After some considerable manœuvring and
provoking dodging on the part of the whale, the waist-boat fastened.
Away he went again, railroad speed, and after treating the boat’s
crew to a ride that caused them to exert every muscle to hold their
hair on, the irons again “came home.”
This only served to increase the excitement, and again the several
boats gave chase with redoubled energy and ardor. About sunset
the captain’s boat drew near; he stood in the head of the boat,
determined to make the old fellow show the “red flag.” He was now
close on; all were looking with breathless anxiety. They neared him,
and the captain darted; the second iron followed the first in an
instant, and he shouted “We are fast!” and turned round to roll up
the sail of the boat. The old man was the spryest man in the ship,
and before he could roll up the sail (which usually occupies about a
minute), the last flake of line went out of the boat, and away went
the old veteran with four hundred fathom (2400 feet) of our line and
two harpoons. This was the last chance, it being near sunset, and
they gave up the chase, at the same time respecting the intelligence
and sagacity of the whale in not allowing himself to become a prey to
the frail boats. He probably felt himself insulted by being pestered
with such small trash, as well as the idea of being melted up for
grease.
The men came on board hungry, thirsty, and tired, having pulled and
worked from 6 A.M. to 8 P.M., with but a couple of cakes of hard
bread and about a quart of water each to refresh themselves with
through the day. The weather was intensely hot; they were exposed
to the equatorial sun, which was directly over them; and yet they
thought of none of these things till they came on board with no
whale. Thus ended the chase of the largest whale we had yet seen, and
which our boys christened “Ocean Island Dick.” The captain asserted
that for the many years he had followed the sea (about thirty), he
had never seen so large a whale as this one. Never mind; he has got
the ship’s mark, in the shape of two irons, that will be apt to
trouble him some before he rids himself of them.
Saturday, September 27th, we were at Ocean Island. The king himself,
with quite a number of natives, came off, bringing with them nothing
but _pumpkins_ to trade. One of the boys remarked that he “supposed
they considered themselves ‘_some pumpkins!_’” They were of an
excellent quality, but were, in reality, our _crooked-neck squash_.
They raise them in great quantities, and it is the principal article
of trade with the ships. This island is certainly the most beautiful
one of the group, the land being moderately high, and presenting a
very even surface.
On leaving here we shaped our course again for Strong’s Island, which
we saw on Wednesday, October 8th. As we neared the land the wind
died away, leaving us becalmed, which continued for four days and
nights. How provoking it was to lie there, about sixteen or eighteen
miles from the land, during all this time, and feel ourselves thus
imprisoned! During the day-time the surface of the water would
scarce be disturbed by a ripple, and presented the appearance of
a vast mirror, with a green islet by the way of decoration. After
having been shut up in the ship for six long and weary months
without setting foot on shore, to be thus kept in sight of a green
“breathing-place” for four days and nights, and feel that you could
not reach it so long as the calm continued, was tantalizing; it was
not strange that we wished for a strong breeze, one that would put us
into the harbor in two or three hours.
At length our wishes were gratified; and on Sunday morning, October
12th, we again dropped anchor in our old resting-place. In the
afternoon we went on shore, and, on arriving at our “hotel,” found
Zegrah and his wife, who gave us a hearty welcome, having been
expecting us. In the evening they gave a feast in honor of our
arrival.
The next two or three days we spent as usual, rambling over the
island, through canals and over walls—through swamps and ditches in
search of adventure. As we have before observed, we found the natives
very kind and hospitable, always welcoming us in a hearty manner;
and, from their actions, we should judge they were really glad to see
us again. Wherever we visited, they spread before us the numerous
fruits of the island, urging us to eat, and insisting that we should
drink a shell of carva with them. We can never forget their kind,
simple-hearted hospitality, and we have often looked back upon our
visits there as green spots in the desert of life, refreshing and
cheering.
Since the death of Mr. Smith, whenever we had been at this island,
Canker would never come near the ship. This we thought strange, as
the first time we were there he was on board nearly every day. Still,
he appeared very kind to any of the ship’s company when they called
upon him, making them presents of fruit, etc., as if wishing to
reinstate himself in their good graces.
On Thursday, October 16th, the king came off to the ship to dinner.
On sitting down at the table, he happened to cast his eye upon a dish
of greens, which had been sent to the ship by Canker, and cooked
by the steward. He instantly took the dish, and then went upon
deck, examined them minutely, and threw them all overboard. He then
inquired if there were any more on board, and on being answered that
a large quantity had been cooked for the men, he ordered them to be
thrown overboard immediately. He then asked, “Who been makey send
all the same on board?” On being told “Canker,” his anger scarcely
knew bounds. He raved and appeared so excited we feared he would do
himself some injury. After a little while he became more calm, and
said, “Captain, you look out that Canker; he too much bad man; he
no good. I no like speak too much; he my son.” It was evident there
was a struggle going on in the heart of the good old king. He loved
his son notwithstanding his faults, and to thus have evidence of his
bloodthirstiness angered him, and it was some time before he fully
recovered himself.
It was, indeed, a diabolical scheme of this Canker’s. Some one of the
crew had injudiciously told him, in jest, that “a large man-of-war
was on its way to the island to inquire into the death of Mr. Smith,
and that, if the captain or any of the crew should tell them he had
poisoned Mr. S., the man-of-war would hang him.” This he believed,
and, feeling his guilt, he determined to remove all evidence of it
by putting the whole ship’s company to death by poison. He knew we
were all fond of greens, and he chose a day, also, on which none
would be on shore, all hands taking dinner on board that day. But,
through the interposition of the Almighty, he was prevented from
accomplishing his dark and bloody designs. How much had we to thank
our heavenly Father for, and how many times did he preserve our lives
from threatened dangers, seen and unseen, during those five eventful
years of our life!
One evening during our stay, one of our men, by the name of Wilds,
whom we shipped on our first visit to this island, had some little
disturbance with her Strong’s Island majesty, the queen. Wilds had
always been a great favorite with her, and was privileged to do and
say as he pleased about the house. He had lived with the king while
on the island. This evening he came in with his mats and pillow
rolled up under his arm, and commenced joking and teasing the queen;
finally, starting to leave, he asked her if he could leave them there
until he returned for them. On being answered in the affirmative, he
threw the bundle at her in a playful manner, which happened to hit
her rather solid, and knocked her down. She screamed, of course (what
woman would not?), and imagined herself nearly killed. Poor Wilds at
first knew not what to do or say; finally he undertook to apologize,
but she would not listen to a word, and ordered him to leave.
This little incident shows what a trifling circumstance will break
the friendship of some of these natives, and turn them to as bitter
enemies as they were former friends, as in the case of Mr. S. and
Canker. Wilds received orders from the queen not to come to the
palace again, as she did not like the idea of allowing her royal
person to be a target for a common sailor to fire his bundles at. The
king, however, when he heard of it, laughed at it as a good joke, and
treated Wilds with as much friendship as formerly.
We were now all ready for sea again—wood and water all on board.
Thinking, however, that we must have one more ramble before leaving,
on Saturday, October 18th, we started, in company with several of our
shipmates, for a stroll among the mountains. During our walk we came
to a fine spring running into a large stone basin. The weather being
excessively hot, we concluded to lie down in this cool, shady place,
and rest. While reclining on these beautiful mossy banks, spinning
yarns of homes far away, and of happy days, carrying ourselves, in
imagination, to those homes and pleasures, we were very suddenly and
unceremoniously aroused from our easy positions by a rushing sound,
accompanied by a hoarse roar. It can be imagined that we did not
occupy many moments in regaining our feet, and we had scarcely done
so ere a large wild boar rushed past with great velocity, deigning
not even to bestow a passing glance upon us, the spectators of his
race, whose hair stood on end, but kept on his course until he was
lost in the thicket.
Some natives, headed by Sekane, the chief soon made their appearance,
and stated that they had started the boar from his den by wounding
him, and asked us to join in the chase. This we consented to do, as
we were anxious to view the sport; but, not exactly understanding
the hooks and crooks of wild-boar hunting, took good care to keep
well in the rear, and our eyes about us. It was certainly amusing;
the slightest noise would cause our company to start for some
tree, and on finding that it was merely a false alarm, would look
immensely foolish. The natives now wished us to guard a pass that
we had arrived at while they went after him. As soon as the natives
were all out of sight, we took our stations in small trees, where we
were sure that we should be out of reach of the boar’s tushes. After
waiting some time, we heard a shouting but a short distance from us.
Each now instinctively shouted “he is coming,” and tried to ascend
still higher. We were relieved from our fears, however, by seeing
the squad of natives approaching, with the wild boar lashed in such
a manner that he could not escape. He was carried by means of poles
run through the lashings of his feet by four natives. They felt very
proud of their booty, and exclaimed, “King have big feast now!” He
was captured by means of a lasso thrown over his head by one of the
natives. Sekane now wished us to form a grand procession and march to
the king’s house, where the boar would be delivered to and received
by the king in great style, “all the same ’Meriky fashion,” as they
termed it. We accordingly did so; and on our arrival, the natives,
who had gathered in great numbers, commenced shouting, until we could
hardly “hear ourselves think.” The animal was then presented to the
king by Sekane, who made a speech, which was very intelligible to us,
as we could not understand a word of it, and replied to by the king
in the same manner. We were informed, however, by Cæsar that the king
praised highly the natives who had captured him, and that he spoke
highly of the bravery and assistance the white men had rendered, as
Sekane had given him a glowing description of our assistance. This,
of course, restored our confidence in our own courage, which had
somewhat fallen.
The animal was immediately slaughtered, and preparations were made
for a “big feast,” to which the white men were all invited, and those
of us who had so _materially assisted_ in its capture were assigned
posts of honor by the side of Sekane, who was the “lion of the day.”
We now began to think that we had some courage, and many of the boys
expressed themselves as ready to proceed on another “wild boar hunt,”
provided—the natives would go ahead. The feast passed off with great
_eclat_, and all hands enjoyed it much, dining this time on veritable
“hog,” and not “dog.”
But we were now ready for the “blue waters” again, and we must not
loiter too long amid the pleasant scenes of Strong’s Island. On
Monday, October 19th, we weighed anchor and proceeded to sea. The
king and Captain H. accompanied us outside the passage, when we took
leave of them, and, with a fair wind, shaped our course once more for
the Group. We had been treated with such uniform kindness by most of
the natives the many times that we had visited this island, and by
such marked respect by the king and chiefs, that the remembrance of
the happy hours we had there spent, and the pleasant and agreeable
scenes we had met, as well as the information we had gained, still
clings to us, and furnishes many an agreeable moment for reflection
and pleasure.