In the Eastern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

persevere. He redoubled his efforts. How grateful I felt when at length the boat reached us. I looked up, and there I saw the countenance of Dick Tarbox, of Roger Trew, and the dark features of Potto Jumbo, expanded by excitement in the most wonderful manner. There also were several others of my shipmates. Was it a dream, or was it a reality? For an instant I thought the whole must be a strange dream. Still, no, it must be a reality, I said to myself; and crying out, urged my friends to take Oliver on board, I meantime treading water alongside. They lifted him up, and had just time to stow him in the bottom of the boat, when the savages were upon us. One fierce fellow was close to me with uplifted dagger. Roger Trew knocked it out of his hand with his oar, which the savage then seized. Another savage was coming on with his club raised in one hand, while with the other he tried to catch the stem of the boat, when Dick Tarbox came down on his cranium with the blade of an oar with such force, that the savage sunk beneath the sea. The others, meantime, began to let fly their arrows; but Tarbox, settling the other man who had hold of Roger’s oar, in the same way as he had done the first, and I being taken on board, the boat pulled rapidly towards the brig.

I still could scarcely believe that I was not dreaming. “What!” I exclaimed, looking up at Tarbox, “are you really alive, or is this all fancy? I thought you were all lost when the mast went over.”

“It is no fancy, but we are all alive and jolly,” answered Tarbox. “Thank Heaven, Roger Trew and I, and a few others of us, were able to cling on to the mast. We thought you had been lost; and thankful I am to find that we were wrong about you, as you were about us.”

However, as may be supposed, there was no time to ask questions or get answers. I was satisfied that I was really awake, and had providentially escaped from the savages. The brig, for fear of the reefs, had been unable to get nearer. Numerous other canoes were seen coming off from the shore. The savages appeared determined to recapture us; and, perhaps, finding that the brig did not fire, hoped to take her also. Before, however, they could reach the boat, we were alongside.

I quickly sprang up on deck, and there, with open arms, stood to welcome me, my dear sister Emily. Grace and Mr Hooker were behind her. They greeted me cordially. As may be supposed, they had many questions to ask me, and so had I to ask them. The brig, I found, had been fitted up by Mr Hooker and Captain Davenport. The captain, I was sorry to hear, was unable to come in her, and Mrs Davenport had remained behind at Ternate to nurse him. Mr Thudicumb had come in command, with those of the crew of the Bussorah Merchant who had been left on shore.

The captain’s object was to search for his lost ship. Mr Hooker had the same object in view, as also to examine the various islands we were likely to call at, for the sake of gaining information in natural history. Emily had entreated to be allowed to come; and the captain, after some hesitation, thinking that his daughter’s health might be benefited by the voyage, allowed her to accompany Grace. An old Dutch woman, Frau Ursula she was called, who spoke a little English, and to whom I was presently introduced, came as a sort of nurse, or governante.

The savages meantime were approaching; and Mr Thudicumb and his men were making preparations for their reception, getting all the arms on board loaded, including a couple of small brass swivel guns and two six-pounders, which we carried on our quarters for making signals. The land-breeze, however, freshened considerably, just before the leading canoes got within bow-shot.

“Don’t fire, Thudicumb, as long as we can help it,” said Mr Hooker. “I have no wish to injure these poor savages; and if we can avoid doing so, it will be much better, both for ourselves and for any who may come after us. I believe that many of the murders which have been committed by the savages, on these and other coasts, have been caused by some insult or injury, first inflicted by the white men, and they have simply retaliated, fully believing themselves justified in so doing.”

The sails were trimmed, and away we stood from the coast. I seized a glass, and tried to examine the shore, in the hope of seeing either our kind protectress or Macco; but neither were visible, and it seemed too likely that both had been killed by the savages. When I had time to tell Mr Hooker about Macco, he proposed standing back to try and hear something of him, and to bring him off if he had escaped. The savages, finding they could not overtake us, at length pulled back to the shore.