This sudden death cast a gloom over the whole ship’s company. But a few days since, and he was the perfect embodiment of health. Little did he or any of his shipmates imagine that one brief week would find him clasped in the cold arms of death. Little did poor Smith imagine that he would so soon be called upon to obey the dread summons. Mr. S. had followed the sea from his youth, and had arrived at the age of about thirty, without ever experiencing sickness of any kind. He was a most excellent and thorough seamen, understood well his business, was peaceable and friendly to all, and while on board had conducted himself in such a manner as to take a firm hold upon the affections of his shipmates. He had secured the confidence and esteem of the captain and officers, as well as the respect and good-will of the men. He was prompt in the discharge of his duties, always performing them in a cheerful manner. But he has gone from our midst. Suddenly he was taken from us to that bourne from whence no traveler returns.
Little does the landsman know the sweet comforts the dying sailor is deprived of. Separated from the home of his heart by thousands of miles, tossed to and fro on a sick couch, with no kind father to watch over and soothe the anguish of his pain; no loving mother comforting and praying for the salvation of the dear son; no dear brothers or sisters to sympathize and cheer the lonely hours with their presence—none of these to smooth the dying sailor’s lonely pillow, alleviate his wants, assuage his grief, and comfort his mind by divine teachings; none of their cheerful countenances to light the dark valley of the shadow of death. Yet every thing was done that was possible to do for Mr. S. to alleviate his sufferings and comfort his mind. But all was of no avail. There is little doubt but he was poisoned at Strong’s Island. But his bodily sufferings are o’er, and instead of departing upon the soft, downy bed, with his dear ones hovering over him, he yielded his spirit to the God who gave it from his rolling couch, and the last sounds that reached his ears were the moanings of the wind, and the hoarse murmur of the waves, impatient, as it were, to receive their victim.
At four P.M. we shortened sail, hauled aback the head yards, hoisted the ensign half-mast, and called all hands to “bury the dead.” The gangway board was removed, the body sewed up in a sheet, and weights attached to the feet, and then laid upon a plank. The services commenced by the captain reading a portion of the Holy Scriptures, then making some excellent and touching remarks, followed by a prayer. He then read the burial service, and when he said “we now commit this body to the deep,” the end of the plank was raised, and the body of poor Smith was consigned to its watery grave, there to rest till the morn of the resurrection, when the last trump shall sound, and the sea shall give up its dead. The body rapidly disappeared beneath the blue wave, and, on glancing around, the tear was seen in the eyes of all those hardy men—those men who had faced death without a blanched cheek or a fainting heart—as they took their last look at the body of their late shipmate. On the land, in the city or town, a death is hardly noticed, and is not felt; but on board a ship, with but a small circle, as in our case, of about thirty, living together as one family, and shut out from the world, as it were, one snatched from our small company is seriously missed, and death serves to bind the remaining still closer together, as the loss just experienced shows us all the uncertainty of human life, and no one knows who will next be called upon to pay the last sad debt of nature. May we all be prepared, that, should Almighty God see fit at any time to remove us from this world of sin and sorrow, we can go with willing hearts—that we may “render up our account with joy, and not with grief.”
CHAPTER XVI.
“A happy New-year to all.”—Rather poor Luck.—Pitt’s Island again.—Description.—Natives.—King.—Religious Belief.—Funeral Ceremonies.—“Jentsh.”—Houses.—Costume.—Food.—Language.—Weapons of War.—Mode of Warfare.—Return to Strong’s Island.—Improvements.—Singing-school.—The Royal Family to Dinner.—Canker’s Guilt.—Poisoned Carva.—Return to our “Hotel.”—Our Suspicions strengthened.—“Stop Thief!”—Gas.—New Zealand Dance.—Grand Feast.—Tall Dancing.—“Cheers” by the Audience.—“Go it, Cæsar!”—Grand Boat-race.—The Boasters beaten.—Another great Feast.—Ball Alley.—Narrow Escape of the Ship.—Departure for Guam.
How different the “New-year” at sea from that at home, were our thoughts this “New-year’s morning” on first awakening. But we wished all on board a “happy New-year,” and then the good folks at home came in for a share of our prayers, and we could not but think that, while they were enjoying the choicest viands, our “New-year’s dinner” must consist of hard bread and salt junk, with a “plum duff” for dessert.
We were again bound for the Group, to try our luck for whales. And we had our “luck,” for we only saw them twice during the whole cruise of three months, and they were then going “eyes out” to windward. We did not even “grease an iron” that cruise.
By this time our man Friday had become somewhat civilized, and was able to speak pretty good English. After trading at the island one day, we managed to gain some very interesting accounts from him in regard to it and its inhabitants. It lies in latitude 3° 02´ N., longitude 172° 46´ E., the northernmost island of the King Mill Group. The natives are very friendly, and have not yet learned the knavery of the other islands. The chief in command is called king, and is assisted by a number of chiefs. The king is allowed as many wives as he chooses, but the chiefs and natives but one. They have no religion, yet they are very superstitious. They believe in ghosts, and that the spirits of the dead visit them. Their evil spirits they call “jentsh,” and they hold that when they do any thing wrong the “jentsh” haunt them; and if they are afflicted in any manner, either by sickness or otherwise, it is punishment imposed upon them by the evil spirits, who are sent to torment them. Friday declared to us that he had often seen and conversed with these spirits, and upon being contradicted he flew off; and said, “S’pose me pool? s’pose me no got eye? me no all same Strong’s Island Kanaka pool; me saba plenty.”
If a native dies, they roll the body in a mat, and the relatives sit around the corpse and wail and mourn until the body is in a state of putrefaction. They never leave their places, their food being brought to them. The climate is so warm that it does not require much time for the body to decay. When it reaches this state, it is sewed up strongly in the mat, and buried, if a male, with his war-club and spear, to protect him in the spirit world; but if a female, nothing is buried with it, as they believe the females need no war-like instruments to protect them from danger. Like the inhabitants of Strong’s Island, they believe that if the person who dies is good, he goes “up there;” but if he was bad, he remains in the ground, and is forever tormented by the “jentsh.”
Their houses are built of bamboo; are large and roomy, some of them having two or three lofts or stories, and are kept very clean and neat. The natives are very cleanly, but very few of the men wear any clothing. The females wear a tappa, about two feet in width, about the loins. They subsist principally on cocoanuts, a species of bread-fruit called jack-fruit, tarra, wild fowl, and fish. The king is a large, corpulent native, apparently about forty-five years of age, and is called “King George,” which appears to be the name of every “king” we have yet heard of in this part of the world. The lingo (for we suppose it can not properly be called a language) in the various islands of the group is nearly the same, so much so that natives from the various islands can understand each other.