CHAPTER XXI.
Blackfish.—Ship “Phocion.”—Ship “Ganges.”—Bark “Belle.”—“Chips” in Prison.—Friday’s Departure.—Sorrowful Leave-taking.—Ship “Bengal.”—Ship “Lion.”—Henderville’s Island once more.—Dick Simpson.—Ship “John and Elizabeth.”—Another New Year.—“Music by the Band.”—Variations.—An “Amateur” Concert.—Bark “Alfred Tyler.”—Wreck of the “Ontario.”—Ocean Island again.—Freshwater Cavern.—Superstitions.—Beachcombers.—Rascally Operations.—Convicts.—Taboo.—Natives.—Climate.—Houses.—Religious Belief.—Sharp Practice.—Characteristics.—Whaling.—Pleasant Island.—Disturbance with the Natives.—Ship “Mohawk.”—Pitcairn’s Island.—Mutiny of the “Bounty’s” Crew.—Death of Mrs. P.—“To my Husband.”—Massacre at Covill’s Island.—Whaling again.—A few stray Thoughts upon that subject.—Heavy Gale.—A “Gemman ob Color.”—His splendid Dress.—Passage to Guam.
We were again at our old business of cruising and whaling, but with poor success. On Friday, October 31st, we captured three blackfish. These are a species of whale yielding from one to five barrels of oil, of an inferior quality, and almost black, from which color the fish seems to have derived its name.
Monday, November 3d, we spoke the “Phocion,” of New Bedford, Captain Nichols, and the day following the “Ganges,” of Nantucket, cutting in a sperm whale, which assured us that others were fortunate if we were not, and consoling ourselves that our turn would soon come.
Nothing of any interest transpired for a month from this time, except occasionally lowering for whales and the capture of two, until Wednesday, December 3d, when we again spoke the bark “Belle,” just from Sydney. From them we learned that our carpenter, alias “Chips,” who, it will be recollected, deserted at Pitt’s Island, and left in the “Belle,” had been arrested in Sydney for stealing a quadrant and sextant from a ship there, and thrown into prison. We were now to lose one of our best men, though a Kanaka. For some time past it was evident that Friday had been growing homesick, and he often told us, “I like go see my land.” The captain, being willing to gratify him, and it being uncertain when we should again visit his “land,” consented to his taking passage in the “Belle,” which vessel was going there immediately. Friday was overjoyed at this prospect; his chest was brought upon deck, ready to be lowered into the other ship’s boat. But now came the parting with his shipmates. This was hard for poor Friday, for all loved him, though he had a dark skin. He had been so kind to all on board—so ever ready and willing to do all in his power to serve others’ interests—so quick to learn, and so grateful for any kindness shown, that all hands, from captain to cook, loved and respected him. Many little presents had been bestowed upon him as tokens of remembrance, and his heart almost failed him as he looked around upon those he was leaving behind; the tears gushed from his eyes; but, summoning resolution to his aid, he sprang into the boat awaiting him, and sadly waving his hand to us, was soon out of sight. We can truly say that we have parted with many white acquaintances with less sorrow than we did with Friday, the Pitt’s Island Kanaka.
On Tuesday, December 9th, we spoke the “Bengal,” of New London, an Arctic whaler, who reported quite a number of whalers lost in the Arctic the previous season by the ice. A short time after we spoke the “Lion,” of Providence, Captain Nichols, a brother of the master of the “Phocion,” whom we saw a few days previous.
The morning of Saturday, December 20th, broke with very squally, thick weather, and we came very near running down Henderville’s Island, or running well on it. It appeared almost that we were fated to be cast away on this hated place. The “Lion” was on our weather beam, and was running in the same direction. As the squall, which was a severe one, passed off, and the weather became clear, we discovered breakers just ahead. We had “tacked” ship very quick a number of times during the voyage, but never, we venture to say, did the “Emily” go about quicker than then. The “Lion,” being to windward, had more room; she also went about, and we left those parts just as fast as the breeze would drive us.
While trading at Simpson’s Island, on Monday, December 29th, a chief came alongside in a canoe, and wished to “see the elephant”—in other words, cast his lot with us. He was partly induced to do so by seeing on board an old shipmate, for it seems he had been one cruise in the “Planter.” The necessary bargain was soon made, and the captain bestowed upon him the name of Dick Simpson. Dick turned to his canoe, and ordered the natives to go ashore. They appeared loth to part with him thus, but after some very, to us, unintelligible jargon and extraordinary flourishes on the part of Dick, they left, with sorrowful countenances.
The next day we spoke the “John and Elizabeth,” of New London, Captain Chappel. We were now speaking ships day after day, and nearly all of them later from home than we were. From most of them we obtained papers, and many of the crew obtained letters. It was truly pleasant to us to come so frequently in contact with ships from our own native land, separated from it, as we were, by the diameter of the earth—vessels that bore aloft the same stars and stripes that we had so often beheld waving proudly at home—vessels that contained Americans, our countrymen; and, although we might not be participants in the mighty events which were transpiring in our native land, yet we could hear of them even in that distant clime. These incidents truly served as bright spots in the storm-beaten mariner’s existence.
And now we come to another New-year. Thursday, January 1st, 18—, has come. Another page has been written in the history of man. The thought came to us on this morning, How many hearts at home have been made desolate, during the past year, by the loss of near and dear friends? How many have been called from this vale of tears to meet their God? Have we profited by the lessons which our heavenly Father has endeavored to impress upon us? To us will come, before another New-year shall roll around, the words, “This year thou shalt die.”
All hands this day held a sort of jubilee, “going in,” as far as our limited means would allow. All appeared to think of but one thing, “We are one year nearer home.” No work was done except attending to the sailing of the ship; all hands regaled themselves on roast chicken, sea pie, plum duff, etc. (which did not amount to much—etc., we mean), for dinner.