Folded, and sealed with a drop of tar, the Round Robin was directed to “The English Consul, Tahiti”; and, handed to the cook, was by him delivered into that gentleman’s hands as soon as the mate went ashore.
On the return of the boat, sometime after dark, we learned a good deal from old Baltimore, who, having been allowed to run about as much as he pleased, had spent his time gossiping.
Owing to the proceedings of the French, everything in Tahiti was in an uproar. Pritchard, the missionary consul, was absent in England; but his place was temporarily filled by one Wilson, an educated white man, born on the island, and the son of an old missionary of that name still living.
With natives and foreigners alike, Wilson the younger was exceedingly unpopular, being held an unprincipled and dissipated man, a character verified by his subsequent conduct. Pritchard’s selecting a man like this to attend to the duties of his office, had occasioned general dissatisfaction ashore.
Though never in Europe or America, the acting consul had been several voyages to Sydney in a schooner belonging to the mission; and therefore our surprise was lessened, when Baltimore told us, that he and Captain Guy were as sociable as could be—old acquaintances, in fact; and that the latter had taken up his quarters at Wilson’s house. For us this boded ill.
The mate was now assailed by a hundred questions as to what was going to be done with us. His only reply was, that in the morning the consul would pay us a visit, and settle everything.
After holding our ground off the harbour during the night, in the morning a shore boat, manned by natives, was seen coming off. In it were Wilson and another white man, who proved to be a Doctor Johnson, an Englishman, and a resident physician of Papeetee.
Stopping our headway as they approached, Jermin advanced to the gangway to receive them. No sooner did the consul touch the deck, than he gave us a specimen of what he was.
“Mr. Jermin,” he cried loftily, and not deigning to notice the respectful salutation of the person addressed, “Mr. Jermin, tack ship, and stand off from the land.”
Upon this, the men looked hard at him, anxious to see what sort of a looking “cove” he was. Upon inspection, he turned out to be an exceedingly minute “cove,” with a viciously pugged nose, and a decidedly thin pair of legs. There was nothing else noticeable about him. Jermin, with ill-assumed suavity, at once obeyed the order, and the ship’s head soon pointed out to sea.