ARRIVAL OF THE BRIG "LYDIA"—STRATAGEM OF THE AUTHOR—ITS SUCCESS

It was now past midsummer, and the hopes we had indulged of our release became daily more faint, for though we had heard of no less than seven vessels on the coast, yet none appeared inclined to venture to Nootka.

The destruction of the Boston, the largest, strongest, and best equipped ship, with the most valuable cargo of any that had ever been fitted for the North-West trade, had inspired the commanders of others with a general dread of coming thither, lest they should share the same fate; and though in the letters I wrote (imploring those who should receive them to come to the relief of two unfortunate Christians who were suffering among heathen), I stated the cause of the Boston's capture, and that there was not the least danger in coming to Nootka, provided they would follow the directions I laid down, still I felt very little encouragement that any of these letters would come to hand; when, on the morning of the 19th of July, a day that will be ever held by me in grateful remembrance of the mercies of God, while I was employed with Thompson in forging daggers for the king, my ears were saluted with the joyful sound of three cannon, and the cries of the inhabitants, exclaiming "Weena, weena—Mamethlee!"—that is, "Strangers—White men!"

Soon after, several of our people came running into the house, to inform me that a vessel under full sail was coming into the harbour. Though my heart bounded with joy, I repressed my feelings, and, affecting to pay no attention to what was said, told Thompson to be on his guard, and not betray any joy, as our release, and perhaps our lives, depended on our conducting ourselves so as to induce the natives to suppose we were not very anxious to leave them. We continued our work as if nothing had happened, when, in a few minutes after, Maquina came in, and, seeing us at work, appeared much surprised, and asked me if did not know that a vessel had come.

I answered in a careless manner, that it was nothing to me. "How, John," said he, "you no glad go board?" I replied that I cared very little about it, as I had become reconciled to their manner of living, and had no wish to go away. He then told me that he had called a council of his people respecting us, and that we must leave off work and be present at it.

The men having assembled at Maquina's house, he asked them what was their opinion should be done with Thompson and myself, now a vessel had arrived, and whether he had not better go on board himself, to make a trade, and procure such articles as were wanted. Each one of the tribe who wished, gave his opinion. Some were for putting us to death, and pretending to the strangers that a different nation had cut off the Boston; while others, less barbarous, were for sending us fifteen or twenty miles back into the country, until the departure of the vessel.

These, however, were the sentiments of the common people, the chiefs opposing our being put to death, or injured, and several of them, among the most forward of whom were Yealthlower and the young chief Toowinnakinnish, were for immediately releasing us; but this, if he could avoid it, by no means appeared to accord with Maquina's wishes.

Having mentioned Toowinnakinnish, I shall briefly observe that he was a young man of about twenty-three years old, the only son of Toopeeshottee, the oldest and most respected chief of the tribe. His son had always been remarkably kind and friendly to me, and I had in return frequently made for him daggers, cheetolths, and other things, in my best manner. He was one of the handsomest men among them, very amiable, and much milder in his manners than any of the others, as well as neater both in his person and house, at least his apartment, without even excepting Maquina.

With regard, however, to Maquina's going on board the vessel, which he discovered a strong inclination to do, there was but one opinion, all remonstrating against it, telling him that the captain would kill him or keep him prisoner, in consequence of his having destroyed our ship. When Maquina had heard their opinions, he told them that he was not afraid of being hurt from going on board the vessel, but that he would, however, as it respected that, be guided by John, whom he had always found true. He then turned to me, and asked me if I thought there would be any danger in his going on board. I answered, that I was not surprised at the advice his people had given him, unacquainted as they were with the manners of the white men, and judging them by their own; but if they had been with them as much as I had, or even himself, they would think very different. That he had almost always experienced good and civil treatment from them, nor had he any reason to fear the contrary now, as they never attempted to harm those who did not injure them; and if he wished to go on board, he might do it, in my opinion, with security.

After reflecting a few moments, he said, with much apparent satisfaction, that if I would write a letter to the captain, telling him good of him, that he had treated Thompson and myself kindly since we had been with him, and to use him well, he would go.

It may easily be supposed that I felt much joy at this determination, but, knowing that the least incaution might annihilate all my hopes of escape, was careful not to manifest it, and to treat his going or staying as a matter perfectly indifferent to me. I told him that, if he wished me to write such a letter, I had no objection, as it was the truth, otherwise I could not have done it.

I then proceeded to write the recommendatory letter, which the reader will naturally imagine was of a somewhat different tenor from the one he had required; for if deception is in any case warrantable, it was certainly so in a situation like ours, where the only chance of regaining that freedom of which we had been so unjustly deprived, depended upon it; and I trust that few, even of the most rigid, will condemn me with severity for making use of it, on an occasion which afforded me the only hope of ever more beholding a Christian country, and preserving myself, if not from death, at least from a life of continued suffering.

The letter which I wrote was nearly in the following terms:—

I have been asked how I dared to write in this manner: my answer is, that from my long residence among these people, I knew that I had little to apprehend from their anger on hearing of their king being confined, while they knew his life depended upon my release, and that they would sooner have given up five hundred white men, than have had him injured. This will serve to explain the little apprehension I felt at their menaces afterwards, for otherwise, sweet as liberty was to me, I should hardly have ventured on so hazardous an experiment.

On my giving the letter to Maquina, he asked me to explain it to him. This I did line by line, as he pointed them out with his finger, but in a sense very different from the real, giving him to understand that I had written to the captain that, as he had been kind to me since I had been taken by him, that it was my wish that the captain should treat him accordingly, and give him what molasses, biscuit, and rum he wanted.

When I had finished, placing his finger in a significant manner on my name at the bottom, and eyeing me with a look that seemed to read my inmost thoughts, he said to me, "John, you no lie?" Never did I undergo such a scrutiny, or ever experience greater apprehensions than I felt at that moment, when my destiny was suspended on the slightest thread, and the least mark of embarrassment on mine, or suspicion of treachery on his part, would probably have rendered my life the sacrifice.

Fortunately I was able to preserve my composure, and my being painted in the Indian manner, which Maquina had since my marriage required of me, prevented any change in my countenance from being noticed, and I replied with considerable promptitude, looking at him in my turn, with all the confidence I could muster,—

"Why do you ask me such a question, Tyee? Have you ever known me to lie?"

"No."

"Then how can you suppose I should tell you a lie now, since I have never done it?" As I was speaking, he still continued looking at me with the same piercing eye, but, observing nothing to excite his suspicion, he told me that he believed what I said was true, and that he would go on board, and gave orders to get ready his canoe. His chiefs again attempted to dissuade him, using every argument for that purpose, while his wives crowded around him, begging him on their knees not to trust himself with the white men. Fortunately for my companion and myself, so strong was his wish of going on board the vessel, that he was deaf to their solicitations, and, making no other reply to them than "John no lie," left the house, taking four prime skins with him as a present to the captain.

Scarcely had the canoe put off, when he ordered his men to stop, and, calling to me, asked me if I did not want to go on board with him. Suspecting this as a question merely intended to ensnare me, I replied that I had no wish to do it, not having any desire to leave them.

On going on board the brig, Maquina immediately gave his present of skins and my letter to the captain, who, on reading it, asked him into the cabin, where he gave him some biscuit and a glass of rum, at the same time privately directing his mate to go forward, and return with five or six of the men armed. When they appeared, the captain told Maquina that he was his prisoner, and should continue so, until the two men, whom he knew to be on shore, were released, at the same time ordering him to be put in irons, and the windows secured, which was instantly done, and a couple of men placed as a guard over him. Maquina was greatly surprised and terrified at this reception; he, however, made no attempt to resist, but requested the captain to permit one of his men to come and see him. One of them was accordingly called, and Maquina said something to him which the captain did not understand, but supposed to be an order to release us, when, the man returning to the canoe, it was paddled off with the utmost expedition to the shore.

As the canoe approached, the inhabitants, who had all collected upon the beach, manifested some uneasiness at not seeing their king on board, but when, on its arrival, they were told that the captain had made him a prisoner, and that John had spoke bad about him in the letter, they all, both men and women, set up a loud howl, and ran backwards and forwards upon the shore like so many lunatics, scratching their faces, and tearing the hair in handfuls from their heads.

After they had beat about in this manner for some time, the men ran to their huts for their weapons, as if preparing to attack an invading enemy; while Maquina's wives and the rest of the women came around me, and, throwing themselves on their knees, begged me with tears to spare his life; and Sat-sat-sok-sis, who kept constantly with me, taking me by the hand, wept bitterly, and joined his entreaties to theirs, that I would not let the white men kill his father. I told them not to afflict themselves, that Maquina's life was in no danger, nor would the least harm be done to him.

The men were, however, extremely exasperated with me, more particularly the common people, who came running in the most furious manner towards me, brandishing their weapons, and threatening to cut me in pieces no bigger than their thumb-nails, while others declared they would burn me alive over a slow fire suspended by my heels. All this fury, however, caused me but little alarm, as I felt convinced they would not dare to execute their threats while the king was on board the brig.

The chiefs took no part in this violent conduct, but came to me, and inquired the reason why Maquina had been thus treated, and if the captain intended to kill him. I told them that if they would silence the people, so that I could be heard, I would explain all to them. They immediately put a stop to the noise, when I informed them that the captain, in confining Maquina, had done it only in order to make them release Thompson and myself, as he well knew we were with them; and if they would do that, their king would receive no injury, but be well treated, otherwise he would be kept a prisoner.

As many of them did not appear to be satisfied with this, and began to repeat their murderous threats—"Kill me," said I to them, "if it is your wish," throwing open the bearskin which I wore. "Here is my breast. I am only one among so many, and can make no resistance; but unless you wish to see your king hanging by his neck to that pole," pointing to the yard-arm of the brig, "and the sailors firing at him with bullets, you will not do it."

"Oh no," was the general cry, "that must never be; but what must we do?" I told them that their best plan would be to send Thompson on board, to desire the captain to use Maquina well till I was released, which would be soon. This they were perfectly willing to do, and I directed Thompson to go on board. But he objected, saying that he would not leave me alone with the savages. I told him not to be under any fear for me, for that if I could get him off, I could manage well enough for myself; and that I wished him, immediately on getting on board the brig, to see the captain, and request him to keep Maquina close till I was released, as I was in no danger while he had him safe.

When I saw Thompson off, I asked the natives what they intended to do with me. They said I must talk to the captain again, in another letter, and tell him to let his boat come on shore with Maquina, and that I should be ready to jump into the boat at the same time Maquina should jump on shore. I told them that the captain, who knew that they had killed my shipmates, would never trust his men so near the shore, for fear they could kill them too, as they were so much more numerous, but that if they would select any three of their number to go with me in a canoe, when we came within hail, I would desire the captain to send his boat with Maquina, to receive me in exchange for him.

This appeared to please them, and after some whispering among the chiefs, who, from what words I over-heard, concluded that if the captain should refuse to send his boat with Maquina, the three men would have no difficulty in bringing me back with them, they agreed to my proposal, and selected three of their stoutest men to convey me. Fortunately, having been for some time accustomed to see me armed, and suspecting no design on my part, they paid no attention to the pistols that I had about me.

As I was going into the canoe, little Sat-sat-sok-sis, who could not bear to part with me, asked me, with an affecting simplicity, since I was going away to leave him, if the white men would not let his father come on shore, and not kill him. I told him not to be concerned, for that no one should injure his father, when, taking an affectionate leave of me, and again begging me not to let the white men hurt his father, he ran to comfort his mother, who was at a little distance, with the assurances I had given him.

On entering the canoe, I seated myself in the prow facing the three men, having determined, if it was practicable, from the moment I found Maquina was secured, to get on board the vessel before he was released, hoping by that means to be enabled to obtain the restoration of what property belonging to the Boston still remained in the possession of the savages, which I thought, if it could be done, a duty that I owed to the owners. With feelings of joy impossible to be described did I quit the savage shore, confident now that nothing could thwart my escape, or prevent the execution of the plan that I had formed, as the men appointed to convey and guard me were armed with nothing but their paddles.

As we came within hail of the brig, they at once ceased paddling, when, presenting my pistols at them, I ordered them instantly to go on, or I would shoot the whole of them. A proceeding so wholly unexpected threw them into great consternation, and, resuming their paddles, in a few moments, to my inexpressible delight, I once more found myself alongside of a Christian ship, a happiness which I had almost despaired of ever again enjoying. All the crew crowded to the side to see me as the canoe came up, and manifested much joy at my safety. I immediately leaped on board, where I was welcomed by the captain, Samuel Hill, of the brig Lydia of Boston, who congratulated me on my escape, informing me that he had received my letter off Kloiz-zart[137] from the chief Machee Ulatilla, who came off himself in his canoe to deliver it to him, on which he immediately proceeded hither to aid me. I returned him my thanks in the best manner I could for his humanity, though I hardly knew what I said, such was the agitated state of my feelings at that moment, with joy for my escape, thankfulness to the Supreme Being who had so mercifully preserved me, and gratitude to those whom He had rendered instrumental in my delivery, that I have no doubt that, what with my strange dress, being painted with red and black from head to foot, having a bearskin wrapped around me, and my long hair, which I was not allowed to cut, fastened on the top of my head in a large bunch, with a sprig of green spruce, I must have appeared more like one deranged than a rational creature, as Captain Hill afterwards told me that he never saw anything in the form of man look so wild as I did when I first came on board.

The captain then asked me into the cabin, where I found Maquina in irons, with a guard over him. He looked very melancholy, but on seeing me his countenance brightened up, and he expressed his pleasure with the welcome of "Wocash, John," when, taking him by the hand, I asked the captain's permission to take off his irons, assuring him that, as I was with him, there was no danger of his being in the least troublesome. He accordingly consented, and I felt a sincere pleasure in freeing from fetters a man who, though he had caused the death of my poor comrades, had nevertheless always proved my friend and protector, and whom I had requested to be thus treated, only with a view of securing my liberty. Maquina smiled, and appeared much pleased at this mark of attention from me. When I had freed the king from his irons, Captain Hill wished to learn the particulars of our capture, observing that an account of the destruction of the ship and her crew had been received at Boston before he sailed, but that nothing more was known, except that two of the men were living, for whose rescue the owners had offered a liberal reward, and that he had been able to get nothing out of the old man, whom the sailors had supplied so plentifully with grog as to bring him too much by the head to give any information.

I gave him a correct statement of the whole proceeding, together with the manner in which my life and that of my comrade had been preserved. On hearing my story, he was greatly irritated against Maquina, and said he ought to be killed. I observed that, however ill he might have acted in taking our ship, yet that it might perhaps be wrong to judge an uninformed savage with the same severity as a civilised person, who had the light of religion and the laws of society to guide him. That Maquina's conduct in taking our ship arose from an insult that he thought he had received from Captain Salter, and from the unjustifiable conduct of some masters of vessels who had robbed him, and, without provocation, killed a number of his people. Besides, that a regard for the safety of others ought to prevent his being put to death, as I had lived long enough with these people to know that revenge of an injury is held sacred by them, and that they would not fail to retaliate, should we kill their king, on the first vessel or boat's crew that should give them an opportunity; and that, though he might consider executing him as but an act of justice, it would probably cost the lives of many Americans.

The captain appeared to be convinced from what I said of the impolicy of taking Maquina's life, and said that he would leave it wholly with me whether to spare or kill him, as he was resolved to incur no censure in either case. I replied that I most certainly should never take the life of a man who had preserved mine, had I no other reason, but as there was some of the Boston's property still remaining on shore, I considered it a duty that I owed to those who were interested in that ship, to try to save it for them, and with that view I thought it would be well to keep him on board till it was given up. He concurred in this proposal, saying, if there was any of the property left, it most certainly ought to be got.

During this conversation Maquina was in great anxiety, as, from what English he knew, he perfectly comprehended the subject of our deliberation; constantly interrupting me to inquire what we had determined to do with him, what the captain said, if his life would be spared, and if I did not think that Thompson would kill him. I pacified him as well as I was able, by telling him that he had nothing to fear from the captain, that he would not be hurt, and that if Thompson wished to kill him, he would not be allowed to do it. He would then remind me that I was indebted to him for my life, and that I ought to do by him as he had done by me. I assured him that such was my intention, and I requested him to remain quiet, and not alarm himself, as no harm was intended him. But I found it extremely difficult to convince him of this, as it accorded so little with the ideas of revenge entertained by them. I told him, however, that he must restore all the property still in his possession belonging to the ship. This he was perfectly ready to do, happy to escape on such terms.

But as it was now past five, and too late for the articles to be collected and brought off, I told him that he must content himself to remain on board with me that night, and in the morning he should be set on shore as soon as the things were delivered. To this he agreed, on condition that I would remain with him in the cabin. I then went upon deck, and the canoe that brought me having been sent back, I hailed the inhabitants and told them that their king had agreed to stay on board till the next day, when he would return, but that no canoes must attempt to come near the vessel during the night, as they would be fired upon. They answered, "Woho, woho"—"Very well, very well."

I then returned to Maquina, but so great were his terrors, that he would not allow me to sleep, constantly disturbing me with his questions, and repeating, "John, you know, when you was alone, and more than five hundred men were your enemies, I was your friend, and prevented them from putting you and Thompson to death, and now I am in the power of your friends, you ought to do the same by me." I assured him that he would be detained on board no longer than whilst the property was released, and that as soon as it was done, he would be set at liberty.

At daybreak I hailed the natives, and told them that it was Maquina's order that they should bring off the cannon and anchors, and whatever remained with them of the cargo of the ship. This they set about doing with the utmost expedition, transporting the cannon and anchors by lashing together two of their largest canoes, and covering them with planks, and in the course of two hours they delivered everything on board that I could recollect, with Thompson's and my chest, containing the papers of the ship, etc.

When everything belonging to the ship had been restored, Maquina was permitted to return in his canoe, which had been sent for him, with a present of what skins he had collected, which were about sixty, for the captain, in acknowledgment of his having spared his life, and allowed him to depart unhurt.

Such was also the transport he felt when Captain Hill came into the cabin, and told him that he was at liberty to go, that he threw off his mantle, which consisted of four of the very best skins, and gave it to him as a mark of his gratitude; in return for which the captain presented him with a new greatcoat and hat, with which he appeared much delighted. The captain then desired me to inform him that he should return to that part of the coast in November, and that he wished him to keep what skins he should get, which he would buy of him. This Maquina promised, saying to me at the same time, "John, you know I shall be then at Tashees, but when you come, make pow," which means, fire a gun, "to let me know, and I will come down." When he came to the side of the brig, he shook me cordially by the hand, and told me that he hoped I would come to see him again in a big ship, and bring much plenty of blankets, biscuit, molasses, and rum, for him and his son, who loved me a great deal; and that he would keep all the furs he got for me, observing at the same time, that he should never more take a letter of recommendation from any one, or ever trust himself on board a vessel unless I was there. Then, grasping both my hands with much emotion, while the tears trickled down his cheeks, he bade me farewell, and stept into the canoe, which immediately paddled him on shore.

Notwithstanding my joy at my deliverance, and the pleasing anticipation I felt of once more beholding a civilised country, and again being permitted to offer up my devotions in a Christian church, I could not avoid experiencing a painful sensation on parting with the savage chief, who had preserved my life, and in general treated me with kindness, and, considering their ideas and manners, much better than could have been expected.

My pleasure was also greatly damped by an unfortunate accident that occurred to Toowinnakinnish. That interesting young chief had come on board in the first canoe in the morning, anxious to see and comfort his king. He was received with much kindness by Captain Hill, from the favourable account I gave of him, and invited to remain on board. As the muskets were delivered, he was in the cabin with Maquina, where was also the captain, who, on receiving them, snapped a number in order to try the locks; unluckily one of them happened to be loaded with swan shot, and, going off, discharged its contents into the body of poor Toowinnakinnish, who was sitting opposite. On hearing the report, I instantly ran into the cabin, where I found him weltering in his blood, with the captain, who was greatly shocked at the accident, endeavouring to assist him.

We raised him up, and did everything in our power to aid and comfort him, telling him that we felt much grieved at his misfortune, and that it was wholly unintentional; this he told me he was perfectly satisfied of, and while we dressed and bound up his wounds, in the best manner we could, he bore the pain with great calmness, and, bidding me farewell, was put on board one of the canoes and taken on shore, where, after languishing a few days, he expired. To me his misfortune was a source of much affliction, as he had no share in the massacre of our crew, was of a most amiable character, and had always treated me with the greatest kindness and hospitality.

The brig being under weigh, immediately on Maquina's quitting us, we proceeded to the northward, constantly keeping the shore in sight, and touching at various places for the purpose of trading.

Having already exceeded the bounds I had prescribed myself, I shall not attempt any account of our voyage upon the coast, or a description of the various nations we met with in the course of it, among whom were a people of a very singular appearance, called by the sailors the Wooden-lips.[138] They have many skins, and the trade is principally managed by their women, who are not only expert in making a bargain, but as dexterous in the management of their canoes as the men are elsewhere.

After a period of nearly four months from our leaving Nootka, we returned from the northward to Columbia River, for the purpose of procuring masts, etc., for our brig, which had suffered considerably in her spars during a gale of wind. We proceeded about ten miles up the river to a small Indian village, where we heard from the inhabitants that Captains Clark and Lewis, from the United States of America, had been there about a fortnight before, on their journey overland, and had left several medals with them, which they showed us.[139] The river at this place is of considerable breadth, and both sides of it from its entrance covered with forests of the very finest pine timber, fir, and spruce, interspersed with Indian settlements.

From this place, after providing ourselves with spars, we sailed for Nootka, where we arrived in the latter part of November.[140] The tribe being absent, the agreed signal was given, by firing a cannon, and in a few hours after a canoe appeared, which landed at the village, and, putting the king on shore, came off to the brig. Inquiry was immediately made by Kinneclimmets, who was one of the three men in the canoe, if John was there, as the king had some skins to sell them if he was. I then went forward and invited them on board, with which they readily complied, telling me that Maquina had a number of skins with him, but that he would not come on board unless I would go on shore for him. This I agreed to, provided they would remain in the brig in the meantime. To this they consented, and the captain, taking them into the cabin, treated them with bread and molasses. I then went on shore in the canoe, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Thompson and the captain, who, though he wanted the skins, advised me by no means to put myself in Maquina's power; but I assured him that I had no fear as long as those men were on board.

As I landed, Maquina came up and welcomed me with much joy: on inquiring for the men, I told him that they were to remain till my return. "Ah, John," said he, "I see you are afraid to trust me, but if they had come with you, I should not have hurt you, though I should have taken good care not to let you go on board of another vessel." He then took his chest of skins, and, stepping into the canoe, I paddled him alongside the brig, where he was received and treated by Captain Hill with the greatest cordiality, who bought of him his skins. He left us much pleased with his reception, inquiring of me how many moons it would be before I should come back again to see him and his son; saying that he would keep all his furs for me, and that as soon as my son, who was then about five months old, was of a suitable age to take from his mother, he would send for him, and take care of him as his own.[141]

As soon as Maquina had quitted us, we got under weigh, and stood again to the northward. We continued on the coast until the 11th of August, 1806,[142] when, having completed our trade, we sailed for China, to the great joy of all our crew, and particularly so to me. With a degree of satisfaction that I can ill express, did I quit a coast to which I was resolved nothing should again tempt me to return, and as the tops of the mountains sank in the blue waves of the ocean, I seemed to feel my heart lightened of an oppressive load.

We had a prosperous passage to China, arriving at Macao in December, from whence the brig proceeded to Canton. There I had the good fortune to meet a townsman and an old acquaintance in the mate of an English East Indiaman, named John Hill, whose father, a wealthy merchant in Hull in the Baltic trade, was a next-door neighbour to mine. Shortly after our arrival, the captain being on board of an English ship, and mentioning his having had the good fortune to liberate two men of the Boston's crew from the savages, and that one of them was named Jewitt, my former acquaintance immediately came on board the brig to see me.

Words can ill express my feelings on seeing him. Circumstanced as I was, among persons who were entire strangers to me, to meet thus in a foreign land with one between whom and myself a considerable intimacy had subsisted, was a pleasure that those alone who have been in a similar situation can properly estimate. He appeared on his part no less happy to see me, whom he supposed to be dead, as the account of our capture had been received in England some time before his sailing, and all my friends supposed me to have been murdered. From this young man I received every attention and aid that a feeling heart interested in the fate of another could confer. He supplied me with a new suit of clothes and a hat, a small sum of money for my necessary expenses, and a number of little articles for sea stores on my voyage to America. I also gave him a letter for my father, in which I mentioned my wonderful preservation and escape through the humanity of Captain Hill, with whom I should return to Boston. This letter he enclosed to his father by a ship that was just sailing, in consequence of which it was received much earlier than it otherwise would have been.

We left China in February 1807, and, after a pleasant voyage of one hundred and fourteen days, arrived at Boston. My feelings on once more finding myself in a Christian country, among a people speaking the same language with myself, may be more readily conceived than expressed. In the post office in that place I found a letter for me from my mother, acknowledging the receipt of mine from China, expressing the great joy of my family on hearing of my being alive and well, whom they had for a long time given up for dead, and requesting me to write to them on receiving her letter, which I accordingly did. While in Boston I was treated with much kindness and hospitality by the owners of the ship Boston, Messrs. Francis and Thomas Amory of that place, to whom I feel myself under great obligations for their goodness to me, and the assistance which they so readily afforded a stranger in distress.