There is a missionary on this island, and the people are more intelligent than most of the other islanders in that vicinity.—They are one of the most peaceable and happy people with whom the writer was ever acquainted. They seem to be peculiarly the favorites of our Great Father. Possessing one of the most salubrious of climates, with every thing formed in nature, and growing spontaneously for their support, they are well fitted to enjoy life and all its attendant blessings. They are happy in their poverty, and contented in their simplicity; and I assure my readers, that it was not without many painful sensations, that I left this ocean isle, and its peaceful inhabitants. May God ever be with, and preserve them for their many acts of benevolence, shown to the writer of this narrative, when a stranger thrown among them, and more than fourteen thousand miles from the land of his nativity.
One day, after I had been on the island about five months, I accidentally found a ship at the harbor which belonged to Martha's Vineyard, in the United States. This was the first vessel which I had seen since I had been here. The Captain's name was Toby. After getting acquainted with this man, he proposed my going home with him. He said I had not better stay among the natives any longer—that my folks at home would be glad to see me, I finally concluded to go with him.
We sailed from this place sometime during the latter part of 1835, and arrived at the vineyard in the spring of 1836.
While on our homeward bound passage, we lost three men, by being struck by a whale.
After discharging our freight at Oldtown, on the Vineyard, I went home to New Bedford, where I stayed three months, when I again shipped aboard of a whaler called the Delight, Captain Philip Sanford. Our voyage was made to St. Domingo in twenty eight days. Here we commenced fishing, but catched nothing but black fish, which we sold for potatoes, oranges, squashes &c. We then went down upon the Jamaica coast, where we caught seven sperm whale; after this we went into Mexico Bay where we took four more whale.—Then we went to the Western Islands, where we caught three more large whale. We then stopped at Flores, and took in potatoes, onions, chickens, pumpkins and squashes. We stopped at several other of this group of Islands on our way home. We were gone eight months on this voyage. After unloading our ship, I stayed at New Bedford but a few weeks before I again left home on a visit to the State of New-York, to see a cousin that I had not seen for more than eighteen years. This man lives in the town of Stockbridge, and county of Madison. His name is Michael Wainer, a man of good property and of respectable standing. I stayed at this place until the spring of 1838, when I went to Buffalo, and shipped aboard of the Steamer Wisconsin, bound to Detroit, in the State of Michigan. We had two hundred and fifty passengers, with their goods, on board. The next trip that we made was to Chicago, in the State of Illinois; our lading was the same as we had in our last trip. On our return passage, I hurt my foot while taking in wood, at Cleaveland in Ohio. After this I boarded a few days in Buffalo, but my foot continuing lame, I again returned to Stockbridge, where I arrived sometime in the month of June, 1838. Here I labored for several persons in the course of the season. I think the people of this place are as industrious and respectable as in any place with which I have been acquainted. They are, in general, good livers, have fewer poor people among them, than most of the places which I have visited, and are very civil and courteous to strangers. They are principally emigrants from the New England States. The town is beautifully situated, having the Oneida Creek, running from south to north through its centre. Upon this stream are a number of grist and saw mills. Here would be an excellent place for erecting manufactories of cotton or wool. From the centre of this town to the Utica and Syracuse Rail Road is but seven miles. This town produces excellent winter wheat, corn, rye, barley and oats. It is called one of the richest towns in the State of New-York.
I now take leave of those who may hereafter peruse this relation of events through which the writer has passed, during his stay among earth's travellers. May heaven's choicest blessings ever be theirs, together with the innumerable comforts which are the attendants of an earthly pilgrimage. Good bye.
PAUL CUFFE.
Stockbridge, N.Y. March 18, 1839.
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.