This plan was exactly carried out. Early in July the two squadrons parted company, Lieutenant Downes proceeding to Valparaiso, and the commodore making his way once more to the Galapagos. The sailors were rejoiced to return to their rambles on shore and their dinners of turtle; but they were still more pleased with the prospect of making new prizes in the neighborhood where they had already been so fortunate. They did not have long to wait. Hardly had they dropped anchor in the familiar roadstead, when three sail were reported in sight, and all were soon under way in pursuit. The "Essex" headed for the ship that seemed midway between the others, which last made off in opposite directions. The centre vessel ran off before the wind, and for a while the "Essex" had a hot chase; but in the end she came up with the stranger, the English whaler "Charlton," of ten guns. The "Greenwich" made for the second vessel, which opened fire, but after receiving one or two well-directed broadsides she hauled down her flag. She was called the "Seringapatam," and was the finest ship of the Pacific whaling-fleet, having been built for a ship-of-war. She carried fourteen guns, and did not trouble herself much about catching whales when it was so much more profitable to catch the American whalers, one of which she had already made a prize. The last of the three strangers, the "New Zealander" of eight guns, was soon after overtaken and captured by the "Essex."
The "Charlton" was now sent to Rio with the prisoners, and the "Georgiana" was despatched with orders to proceed to the United States; but she was captured by the enemy on the way home. If the United States had at this time had a port on the Pacific, all the prizes might have been easily disposed of. As it was, they were compelled to run the gantlet of British squadrons in the Atlantic, where they were almost sure to be retaken.
For two months the "Essex," now accompanied by the "Greenwich," the "Seringapatam," and the "New Zealander," cruised about among the islands. There was now only one British whaler left to capture,—the "Sir Andrew Hammond," commanded by another Captain Porter. At last, one morning toward the latter part of July she was discovered some distance off; but the "Essex," unfortunately getting into a dangerous situation among the rocks and currents, was delayed in following her, and soon she was lost to view. The next day she was seen again and pursued, but when the frigate had come within four miles of her it fell calm. The boats of the "Hammond" were hoisted out, to tow her out of reach. The "Essex" then called away her boats,—not to tow, but to pull for the whaler and board her. The commodore was sure that if they could only reach the enemy they would succeed in taking her. But this time his hopes were vain. The boats had covered more than half the distance, and were nearing their object, when suddenly a breeze sprang up, filling the "Hammond's" sails, and she lost no time in making off. The "Essex" lay immovable, for she was still becalmed and did not get a breeze until after sunset. So the Englishman was again lost in the darkness, and next day no sign of him was to be seen.
Six weeks were now spent at the Islands, during which the "Essex" was repainted, and her whole appearance so completely changed that her own officers could hardly recognize her. At the end of this time she started off alone, hoping to fall in with the "Hammond," which was almost sure to be somewhere in the neighborhood. The commodore's search was soon rewarded, for he had been out but a few days, when one morning at daylight he discovered her some distance to windward, to all appearance lying to, but really fastened to a whale, which she was in the act of taking. The disguise of the "Essex" now served her in good stead, for if she frightened away the enemy there would be little chance of making a capture. The commodore had learned from the "New Zealander" that a private signal had been agreed upon between her and the "Hammond;" and he now came up in a lazy and careless fashion, under British colors, and showing the private signal. He proceeded on in this way for some hours, and had got within three or four miles, when suddenly the "Hammond," suspecting a stratagem, took alarm, and casting off the whale, made sail to escape. But she had waited too long. In a few minutes the "Essex" was within gunshot, and after firing half a dozen rounds the Englishman struck his colors.
The last of the British whalers in the Pacific had now been captured, and Commodore Porter could feel that his year's work had accomplished substantial results. The Americans were safe from attack, for there were none of the enemy left to attack them. The commodore could now carry out his plan of retiring for a while with his fleet to some obscure harbor in the South Seas, where he could refit at leisure, and where his men could rest from the fatigues of their long voyage. Soon after the "Essex Junior" came in, with the news that she had taken the prizes safely to Valparaiso and laid them up, and that the cruise of the "Essex" had caused so great a commotion in England that three ships-of-war had been sent out specially to seize her. These had already arrived at Rio, and before many weeks would make their appearance in the Pacific.
But the Pacific Ocean is broad, and the Southern Seas are dotted with innumerable islands, unfrequented at that time by civilized man, with deep and safe anchorages in their land-locked bays, where ships might remain for years lost to the world outside. Among all the South Sea Islands none seemed to offer the needed advantages more than the beautiful Marquesas, a group inhabited only by native tribes who lived in primitive simplicity, uncorrupted by the influences of European civilization. Thither the commodore now shaped his course in the frigate, taking with him his tenders, the "Essex Junior" and the "Greenwich," as well as his four latest prizes.
It was about the middle of October when the squadron came to anchor off the island of Nookaheevah, in the Marquesas group, and here it remained for two months, during which the "Essex" was thoroughly repaired. The natives of this part of the island became very friendly, as soon as they had recovered from their first suspicions. They were like children, and showed great delight at receiving the simple presents that were given them,—knives, or fish-hooks, or even pieces of iron hoops or glass bottles; while a whale's tooth, which the islanders valued above all other possessions, would purchase, almost anything they had. The king of the tribe, Gattanewa, an old man of seventy, tattooed from head to foot, came on board the "Essex" and vowed eternal friendship with the Americans, ratifying the bond by exchanging names with the commodore,—"Tavee" or "Opotee," as he was called, which was the nearest approach that the Nookaheevans could make to David Porter.
The island of Nookaheevah was eighteen miles long and crossed by ranges of mountains between which lay beautiful and fertile valleys filled with streams and waterfalls, and little villages, and forests of sandal-wood, and groves of cocoanut-palm and bread-fruit and banana. In that tropical climate,—for the place lies near the equator,—where Nature gives with a liberal hand all that man can ask for, amid the luxuriance of forest growth, of tree and fruit and grass and flower, with its simple-minded and childlike people, the sailors of the "Essex" were now to pass two months of rest and refreshment. It was like the fabled land of the Lotus-eaters,—a land
"In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
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