James Dawe, the miller, did not find his business a very lucrative one. Almost the first effort was to repair the water mill and the adjoining dam, which had suffered from long neglect. The mill was soon put in working order, saving thereby a great deal of labor. But some disagreement arose between the miller and the party of men who worked with him, which resulted in his leaving the island, with his family, after a stay of less than two years. As for the stone mason, there was no employment for him on the island, so, after repairing a broken wall or two, he left again for Sydney, where he found good employment and wages.
A new enterprise was undertaken by the quondam Pitcairners. Observing that a great number of whales frequented the waters around the island at certain seasons of the year, they decided to purchase boats and every necessary article needed for the capture of these monsters. They showed ready skill in this new undertaking, and succeeded well from the first. The oil obtained a ready market both in Sydney and in Auckland.
CHAPTER XIII.
HO! FOR PITCAIRN
IN THE meanwhile two families had returned to their old home. The superior advantages enjoyed in their new home, the greater household conveniences, the larger educational privileges, the easier access to and communication with the outside world, all failed to weigh as much with them as the wish to see once more the place that they loved as home. The families consisted of Moses Young, his wife and five young children, and Mayhew Young, who had married the widow of Matthew McCoy, their infant daughter, and six other children by the woman’s first husband. These made up the first return party, sixteen souls in all, four males and twelve females. Three daughters of the former Mrs. McCoy remained on Norfolk Island, the two elder ones with their husbands, and the youngest to be married. Had the children been consulted in the matter, every one old enough to think would have chosen to remain, but the only alternative was to obey and follow their parents.
A much larger party had at first decided to return, and had already conveyed their goods on board the vessel that was to bear them away, but the tears and persuasions of the friends from whom they were about to part were more than they were able to resist, so they did not leave, as they had at first intended. The parting was sad. One last gathering in the church where they had worshiped for two years, one last mingling of their voices together in the parting song, which was falteringly sung, while sobs choked the utterance and tears dimmed the sight, and then the final prayer was uttered in tremulous tones and with tender earnestness by the lips of their faithful pastor, Mr. Nobbs, commending the departing company to God’s care. Thus was the first separation effected between the people that for sixty years had been dwelling together like one family, sharing each other’s joys and sorrows—the first separation, that held out no hope of ever meeting again. The schooner Mary Ann, which took them away, left on the second day of December, 1858, and reached her destination on the seventeenth day of the following month, January, 1859, making a passage of forty-six days.
The few men that first landed from the schooner had been but a short time on shore when they saw a boat, well manned, approaching the landing place at Bounty Bay. The boat’s crew, as they soon discovered, belonged to a French vessel, the Josephine.
