The ships and sailors of old Salem

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

Before the journal deals with the tragedy and loss of the Glide, the author jots down such bits of information as this:

“One of the most powerful chiefs on this island (Overlau) at the time of our visiting it, was Mr. David Whepley, an American, and, I believe, a native of New Bedford, whence he had sailed some years before in a whale ship. For some cause, on the arrival of the vessel here, he took sudden leave and ultimately became distinguished among the natives. He was a young man apparently about thirty years of age.”

The career of a trader in the South Seas three-quarters of a century ago was enlivened by incidents like the following:

“When passing within a few miles of Pennrhyn’s Island, we noticed some canoes filled with savages coming off to the ship. Wishing to procure some grass for our live-stock, we hove to and awaited their approach. Their numbers and strength made it prudent to put ourselves in a defensive position; each man was armed and our cannon, loaded with grape-shot, were run out at the port holes.

“Presently there were alongside fifty or sixty of the most repulsive monsters that I ever beheld; very tall, of complexion unmixed black, with coarse stiff hair like dog’s bristles, and their language, if such it was, more resembling dogs barking than articulate speech. Their whole aspect was truly terrific. They were not permitted to come on board, but only to clamber up the sides of the vessel. The ship’s channels fore and aft on both sides were filled with them. The Glide’s company was armed, yet our situation was very perilous.

“Whilst Captain Archer was selecting some articles of trade, a spear was hurled at him by a savage standing in the larboard mizzen channels. I stood within four or five feet of the captain, and saw the savage, but his movement was so quick that I could not in season give the alarm. The captain was leaning over the larboard hencoop, his back was toward the savage, and but for a providential turning of his head, the spear would have pierced his neck. As it was, it grazed his neck and inflicted a slight wound.

“This seemed to be a signal for attack; the savages became exceedingly clamorous. The captain commanded ‘Fire.’ It was a fearful order and fearfully obeyed. Five or six savages, among them the one who had hurled the spear, were shot and fell back with a death shriek into the sea. Others were severely wounded by our boarding pikes, and cutlasses. Two or three of the crew were slightly injured in keeping the natives from the deck. Had the captain’s orders been a moment delayed, the savages must have gained the better of us. As soon as the captain’s order had been given I let go the weather main-brace. A six knot breeze was blowing and the yards having been quickly rounded, the motion was soon sufficient to embarrass the savages, and we were enabled to drive them from the ship.

“As the Glide moved on, we left them astern in the utmost confusion. Their situation was truly pitiable. The sun had set; there was a heavy sea, and the wind was freshening. They were five miles from their island. Some were swimming about hither and thither to recover their canoes which had been upset by the ship’s progress; some went soon to the bottom, and others who had gained their canoes sat hideously bemoaning the desolation around them. Their eyes rolled wildly as they hurled their spears toward the ship, and they howled and gnashed their teeth like so many fiends of darkness. We passed within a mile of the island, and observed numerous fires kindled along the shore, probably as beacons to guide back the natives who had attacked us.”

Captain Archer’s ship filled her hold with beche-de-mer and took it to Manila, returning to the Fijis for a second cargo. Arriving once more at the island of Overlau, the first and third officers with part of the crew were sent in a boat to Lakamba, an island twenty-five miles distant to conduct the traffic in beche-de-mer. Because of shoal water the ship could not follow them and she carried on a trade at her anchorage in tortoise shell and sandal wood. “Knowing that on the completion of our second cargo,” reads the journal, “we were to leave the Fijis, the party at Lakamba worked with zeal. The men aboard ship were no less industrious. The armorer and his mate manufactured knives, chisels, and other cutlery for exchange. The carpenter was busy at his bench. Above some were repairing the rigging; on deck others were mending sails, and making matting bags to pack beche-de-mer. The sun shone not on a more faithful crew. The captain traded with the natives when they came alongside, and directed all matters aboard. Thus prosperously passed several weeks.

“We were frequently visited by David Whepley, the American chieftain at Overlau; sometimes accompanied by two or three of his warriors. He was usually dressed as a sailor and had with him a loaded rifle whose good qualities were the main topic of his conversation. He also told us much concerning his singular life, and his adopted people, over whom he seemed to have great influence owing to his superior wisdom, and the good terms existing between him and the powerful king of Bou. The king of Bou sometimes visited us. When this old chief, whose complexion was darkness visible out of which peered two deep-set glaring eyeballs with a grizzly beard tapering to a point a foot below his chin, came alongside in his large double canoe, the spectacle was impressive. This canoe was of curious and imposing structure, able to hold a hundred or more persons, with a triangular matting sail as large as the Glide’s maintopsail. He was accompanied by forty or fifty vigorous black warriors, huge but symmetrical in build, with elegant white turbans on their heads, and ornaments hanging from their ears. They were girt with some white tapas, and held massive clubs and spears which they use with terrible effect.