While I was resting after my excursion to the island I heard a great commotion; a native had been discovered trying to stow away in the hold among the coal. Two large men could not overpower him, and for a long time he refused to come out. One of the white firemen finally leaned over the open hatch and held out a stick of tobacco. "Won't you come out for that?" he asked with an insinuating smile. "He is making signs that he will," he continued, looking at me quite proud of his cleverness. Sure enough, up came the native, a beautiful youth with a sullen face and blazing eyes. He strode haughtily past the fireman, looking neither at him nor his proffered tobacco, sprang upon the side of the ship, where he balanced himself a moment, and then jumped into the sea and swam ashore. I sympathised with the boy and was sorry he was caught, the more especially that another man had chosen a better hiding-place and was not discovered until we were well at sea.
When we left the island we should have signalled a boat, but a canoe lying at hand, we took that instead. We waded out toward the canoe, but, as the water began rising above my knees, I stopped in alarm when a native caught me up in his arms, unawares, before I had time to arrange my skirts, and I was carried out, willy-nilly, my legs waving frantically in the air. I tried to shield them from the view of the ship with my umbrella, which I was unable to open, but I fear my means were inadequate. The canoe was a fourth filled with water; its owner sternly commanded Louis and me to bail and Lloyd to paddle.
From the last island we took on some passengers—two cats in an onion crate—and at this island exchanged them for a woman and a sickly baby. I was much amazed at seeing the mother spread a thick, dry mat on the wet deck for her own comfort, her baby being planted on the cold boards. I made her take it up and lay it beside her on the mat, which seemed to amuse her a great deal. As the baby still shivered, I got an old lava-lava of Tin Jack's and wrapped it up in that, charging the mother not to dare remove the lava-lava.
This is the island where, in 1871, three slave-ships, the Moroa (bark), Eugenie (schooner), and a barkentine, name unknown, came for "recruits." The King, in his fright, offered them all his people except the very young, the very old, and a few young girls reserved for his harem. It is needless to say that his offer was accepted. I have since met and conversed with a man who was on board one of these ships.
12th.—Arrived early this morning at Onoatoa. The missionary's child is named Painkiller.
13th.—Noukanau in the morning. Met the German "labour" brig Cito, after recruits, doubtless for Samoa; then ran over to Piru and back again to Noukanau at night. At Piru we met the American schooner Lizzie with two passengers.
At Piru came on board a man named Cameron, another named Briggs, and a person with an Italian name I forget. Briggs said he made much more money by "doctoring" than by trading. A strange disease, he told us, had broken out in the island; the Samoan wife of a trader had died the night before and many others were down with it. It is contagious, and the natives take no care to avoid infection. I said it was measles, which Briggs denied, declaring it was typhus. I asked him where he got his knowledge of "doctoring." "Straight from my father," said he; "my father was the celebrated Doctor Briggs, and if you buy a bottle of his patent medicine you can read an account of his life on the wrapper."