“It’s lucky for you, Peter, that they didn’t succeed in getting you away,” he said. “They would have tattooed you all over and turned you into a nigger and made you marry one of their girls. I’ll stay by you, for the chances are they may come back and try again to make you a prisoner. The doctor must manage to do without his spud.”
When Dr Cockle returned, though at first he began to scold the man, when he heard why he remained he told him he was right. At all events, had the natives carried me off it might have caused a deal of trouble to recover me.
Sailing from the Marquesas we gradually worked our way westward towards the Society Islands, catching a few whales, till we arrived at Totillah, one of the Samoa group.
The scenery was magnificent, while everywhere the country was covered with beautiful trees, among them the pandanus palm, the tree-fern, the banyan, the bread-fruit tree, wild nutmeg, and superb bamboos. The natives also were very well-behaved and quiet, and were always inclined to treat us hospitably. Indeed, we might have travelled without the slightest risk from one end of the island to the other. The good behaviour of the inhabitants was the result of their having become Christians owing to the indefatigable exertions of missionaries. It was here that John Williams, the great apostle to the Pacific heathen, spent several years. Not far off from where we lay at anchor was Leoni Bay, the scene of the massacre of the French navigator Perouse and his companions. While we were here two of the men we had obtained ran off. Two others were shipped in their stead. One of them, who called himself John Brown, as he stepped on deck seemed to me a remarkably fine fellow. He had belonged to a whaler which had been wrecked some time before, and he had remained behind while the rest of the crew went on to Sydney. I immediately asked him the question which I put to everybody. “Do you know anything of a young fellow named Jack Trawl?”
“It seems to me that I have heard of the name,” he laid, “but when or where I can’t say. When did you last get news of him?”
“He was wrecked in the Helen, and was last seen in one of her boats when the crews were making their escape from the savages,” I answered.
“Then perhaps I may help you a little,” he said. “Some time ago we fell in with a whaler, and we were talking to her crew. At last, as we were going to shove off, one of the men said that he had been on board the Helen, and he knew for certain two of her boats had got safely to Timor, but what became of the others he couldn’t tell.”
I naturally asked which of the boats had reached Timor, and whether the captain’s was one of them, but he could not say, and I was obliged to rest satisfied with this information. It gave me fresh hopes that Jack was alive.
I have not described the bay in which we lay. It was very deep and narrow, and might rather have been called a gulf. Just as we got under way the wind came right in, and we had either to anchor again or work out. The captain decided to do the latter. Two boats were sent ahead to tow the ship round, the rest of the crew were at their stations. Not a word was spoken, for we all saw that we had no easy task to perform. As we went about, first on one tack then on the other, we each time gained but little ground.
At last, as we were just again going about, a puff of wind drove her right ashore on a coral reef. In vain the men in the two boats endeavoured to pull her round. The captain and both the mates gave her up for lost, and the crew seemed to think the same, but Brown, who was looking round everywhere, called me, and we hauled away at the fore brace. The fore-topsail filled with a flaw of wind which came off the shore, and away the ship went, the wind favouring us till we were clear out of the bay. It was one of the narrowest escapes from shipwreck I ever had.