CHAPTER XXIII. Bailey's Island.--Turtle.--Whaling.--Ship "James Allen."--Water-spouts.--A heavy Gale.--Monotony.--A Swimming Adventure.--Ship "Atkins Adams."--Spanish Jack again.--Tow-line Tea.--Captain's stump Speech.--A large Whale.--Bark "Antelope."--Strange Incident.--Passage to the Group.--Pitt's Island.--Bark "Smyrna."--A rummy Set.--Ship "Susan."--Fearful Tragedy.--Passage to Strong's Island.--Ship "Atlantic."--Ship "Charles W. Morgan."--"At home" once more.--Rev. Mr. Snow.--Characteristic Meanness.--Rotumah Dance.--Feast and Dance.--Sickness of Mr. L.--Divine Service on Board.--New Zealand Native.--Farewell to Strong's Island.

Nothing of interest transpired on the passage, unless we may speak of continued boisterous weather, until Wednesday, May 4th, when we sighted Bailey’s Island, one of the Bonin Group. Here we sent a boat on shore, and procured a load of sweet potatoes, watermelons, green corn, etc., and about twenty large turtle, which abound here in great numbers. We need not say that “turtle soup” soon became no luxury with us.

We cruised around these islands about a month, taking two large whales in the mean time, which cheered us considerably, although we were far from doing as well as we had expected. The usual course of Japan whalemen is to cruise in the vicinity of the Bonin Islands during the month of May and the early part of June, and then work gradually to the eastward until the close of the season in September, when they are compelled to leave from the severity of the weather.

On Wednesday, June 2d, we saw another whaleman from “Yankee Land,” the “James Allen,” Captain Newcomb, of New Bedford. He bore down to us with the ever-beautiful “stars and stripes” waving proudly from the mizzen-peak, and passed our stern in gallant style. We had a very interesting gam with them, although hard at work putting the dollars in our ship’s hold in the shape of sperm oil.

The next day we saw several large water-spouts, which are very common in these latitudes. They passed some distance from us, and we were very careful to give them a wide berth, as several ships had lately suffered from them, having their spars and rigging severely injured.

These latitudes are also very often visited by fearful hurricanes, called “typhoons.” On the 18th of June we experienced the “tail-end” of one, as seamen call it. As we had received warning from the barometer, sail was taken in, and every thing secured in a substantial manner. The violence of the wind seemed to sweep every thing before it, forcing the old ship almost on her beam ends. The sea appeared like moving mountains; occasionally it would dash against her sides, giving her a shock that would cause her to tremble in every part. The heavy and labored rolling of the ship—the creaking of the timbers—the wind shrieking through the rigging—clouds of spray flying with almost the rapidity of lightning—clashing of the backstays—dashing of the waves, intermingled with the hoarse shouting of the sailors, made night hideous, and rendered the scene altogether indescribable. All longed for morning, and when daylight appeared a most awful yet grand sight presented itself. The gale was still howling in all its fury; a lull for a few moments would ensue, then heavy and sudden blasts would follow in quick succession, striking the ship with such force as to make every plank in her shake and tremble. She would plunge headlong into an immense abyss, and then rise rapidly to the top of a mountain wave, showing a fearful chasm on either side, which threatened to ingulf her and finish the scene. Every thing conspired to render our situation an awful one; and yet it was a grand, glorious sight. At noon the gale broke, and its fury soon abated, leaving us once more with pleasant weather.

We recollect reading, during our wanderings, in a newspaper which we procured from the States, in some ship, a letter written by some European tourist, in which he complained sadly of the “monotony of a voyage across the Atlantic,” which occupied ten long weary days. We thought, at the time, we would like very much to have the writer take one cruise in a whaler of seven or eight months, where he would see nothing but blue water for six of those months. We hardly think he would complain of the “monotony of a voyage across the Atlantic” again. We were now cruising where, day after day, week after week, nothing but blue water was visible around us; the same dull round of duties; not even a brother whaleman hove in sight with whom we could enjoy a friendly gam. To add to all this, we could see no whales; the captain and all hands were getting discouraged, and feared we should have to leave the ground in September with but little more oil than when we came upon it. At last the captain appeared to wake up, and offered a bounty of twenty dollars to the man who should first raise a whale.

At length a laughable incident occurred, which served to enliven our dull life somewhat, and keep us from sinking entirely into a state of nonentity. Several of the crew, one calm day, were out on the jib-boom, endeavoring to hook some fish which were around the ship in great numbers, that they might indulge in the luxury of a mess of fresh fish for dinner. One of the number, in hauling up a large albicore, lost his hat overboard. Spanish Jack being on deck, sang out,

“What you give me get your hat?”

“Two heads of tobacco,” shouted the man.

In a moment Jack was overboard, and in a few seconds had the hat. Placing it on his head, he started for the ship. Although it was nearly calm, yet the ship was going slowly through the water, and the breeze happened to be freshening. At every stroke Jack would make he would lose the hat off, and, stopping to pick it up, he found he was losing ground. He now tried a new experiment—throwing it ahead of him, and then swimming to it; then throwing it again, and so on; but even this would not work, as every time he would throw the hat he would go under himself, and come up snorting and blowing like a porpoise. The darkey now began to be frightened. He was all the time losing ground; the ship was leaving him astern; and the captain finally sang out to him, “Never mind the hat; come aboard!” but to no purpose; Jack stuck to the hat, fearing he should lose the reward if he did not get it. At last, however, after repeated threats from the captain, he was under the necessity of abandoning it, and struck out boldly for the ship, shouting, “Santa Maria! Santa Maria! Madre de Dios!” at every stroke. A rope was thrown him, but he was so exhausted he could not hold fast of it; finally one of the ship’s company went down the side and made it fast round his body. Jack was now hauled in on deck more frightened than hurt, and as pale as possible for a darkey to be. On recovering so as to speak, his first words were for the promised reward of tobacco, which were given him, although he had not recovered the hat. All hands had a hearty laugh over this incident, and it seemed to infuse new spirits into every one.

Thursday, July 8th, we spoke the ship “Atkins Adams,” a vessel that left Guam in company with us. She had taken but forty barrels since coming upon the ground.

At length, on Saturday, July 24th, at daylight, was once more heard the welcome cry, “T-h-e-r-e she b-l-o-w-s!” In the shortest possible space of time four boats were down and gave chase. The boat-steerer of the waist-boat darted and missed his aim. This “gallied” the whale, and off he went at railroad speed, the boats returning to the ship. About nine A.M., however, the chase was renewed, and, by skillful management, the bow-boat fastened both irons solid. As the whale was sounding, Spanish Jack, who was one of the crew, from some unknown cause became badly frightened, and managed to throw his paddle into the line-tub. Of course the line, which was running out with great rapidity, became foul, and carried the paddle to the loggerhead, which frightened Jack still more, and his next move was to jump into the tub himself. The boat-steerer, seeing how matters stood, as quick as thought seized the boat-hatchet and cut the line, which alone saved Jack and all hands from certain death. Away went the whale; and, after reflecting upon their situation a moment, the crew commenced berating poor Jack for his carelessness in thus endangering his and their lives, and losing them the whale. As all hopes of capturing him were now at an end, the boats returned to the ship.

On learning the particulars, the captain administered to Jack a slight dose of tow-line tea to prevent any serious consequences arising from his late carelessness. He did not relish the medicine much, but was obliged to take it, nevertheless. It was really provoking; we had been cruising so long without seeing whales, and when we did see them under such favorable circumstances, to lose them from such carelessness was not only provoking, but discouraging.

The old man, after giving Jack his medicine, proceeded to make a stump speech to all hands, to the effect that “they were now some thirty-three months from home, with only about seven hundred barrels of oil; that the voyage was rapidly drawing to a close; it would soon be time for the ‘Emily Morgan’ to be ‘homeward-bound;’ yet, if they went on at this rate, what would they go home with? A broken voyage; nothing coming to them, and their time worse than thrown away. He hoped the crew would wake up and take some interest in the voyage. If they were only determined to succeed, succeed they would, and they would soon be in ‘Yankee land’ with a good voyage.” At the close of this speech three hearty cheers were given; the men went forward in excellent spirits, threatening the sperm whales on Japan with complete annihilation.

An opportunity soon presented itself; and proved they were in earnest. On Tuesday, July 27th, we raised a “lone” whale, and in less than an hour from the time he was first seen he was lying alongside the ship, dead. On cutting him in, we found him an old veteran covered with scars, and two harpoons in him marked “S. M. N.” By this we knew he had been struck by the “Milton,” who was cruising on the ground. The following day, while cutting in the whale, a sail hove in sight to windward. Some hints were thrown out by the captain that this was the “Milton;” on hearing which, “all hands” struck up a lively tune, and the windlass went round cheerily; blanket-piece after blanket-piece came in on deck, and, just as the last piece swung in clear of the plankshire, the stranger rounded our stern. Instead of the “Milton” she proved to be the “Antelope,” of Newport, Captain Potter. Had it been the former vessel, and any part of the whale remaining in the water, the self-constituted laws of whalemen would have compelled us to have given up the whole of the whale, and this accounted for the hurry we were in to secure the fish ere the stranger came down to us. The result proved our fears to be groundless; nevertheless, the blubber was all on deck, and no one regretted it.

A few days after this we again spoke the “Atkins Adams,” and found that she was about leaving the ground. On inquiring the cause of this resolve, Captain Fish said “that he had seen whales but twice since he had been on the ground, and both times they had steam-engines inside them, and were going like lightning, bound for the ‘Emily Morgan.’” Our skipper encouraged him to remain a while longer, telling him what success we had had, and that the best of the season was yet to come. The following morning, while in company with them, we raised a whale off our lee beam which had the appearance of having been wounded. Seeing us manoeuvring, they ran down, but before they reached us we had a dead whale alongside. Without exchanging a word with us, they continued on their course to the southward, no doubt disheartened, and determined to try their luck elsewhere.

We must now mention a very strange incident, and one that but very seldom occurs among whalemen. On cutting in this whale, we found two irons in it marked “S. E. M.” It being our own ship’s mark, and the irons belonging to the bow-boat, and recognized as such by all hands, proved conclusively that it was the same whale which had got our friend Jack into a scrape, and which we had lost nineteen days previous, and about 360 miles to the westward of where we were then cruising.

Such instances are very rare. The only one we ever heard was that of the ship “John and Edward.” While on her outward-bound passage in the Atlantic she struck a large sperm whale, and was compelled to cut from him. She was absent three years, and on her home passage, off the coast of Peru, in the Pacific, captured the same whale. The irons had a peculiar mark, such as no other ship carried, and from this they knew the whale. Nothing but the head of the harpoon and about a foot of the shank remained, the other part having rusted off. This proves conclusively that sperm whales do migrate from one ocean to the other via Cape Horn, notwithstanding several learned authors have asserted to the contrary.

On the 15th of September we pointed the ship’s head to the southward with cheerful hearts. This was the best cruise we had yet made, having taken about four hundred barrels of oil. The next season on Japan was to be our last; from thence we were “homeward-bound.” Although it was a long time ahead, yet we felt that every day made it one the less, and every mile of blue water plowed was one the less. Just before reaching the group we lowered and captured a twenty-five barrel whale: this helped to cheer us along our way very much.

Monday, October 11th, we made Pitt’s Island; sent a boat ashore, and found the bark “S.,” of New Bedford, at anchor. The crew of this vessel, including the captain and officers, with ten or twelve beachcombers, were engaged in making cocoanut rum, and all hands, natives included, were as drunk as rum could make them.

The following day we spoke the “Susan,” of Nantucket, Captain Smith. From this vessel we learned that during the past season a fearful tragedy had been enacted at the group. Twenty-five beachcombers residing on Henderville’s and Woodell’s Islands, which are separated by a channel of only a few miles, were murdered by the natives. It appears, from what we could learn, that they had some difficulty with the natives—attempting to do as they pleased—threatening to take the islands, etc. They had also succeeded in effecting a division among the natives, one party espousing their cause, the other opposed to them. Some of the more cunning, however, saw through the whole plot, and called a private council of both parties. After much deliberation, it was resolved to put to death all the white men, which was accordingly done. This removed the cause of their quarrels, and they lived at peace again.

We were now steering for Strong’s Island, with fine breezes, beautiful weather, and cheerful hearts. Sunday, October 19th, we spoke the “Atlantic,” of Nantucket, Captain Coleman.

At daylight on Tuesday, the 26th, we were within a few miles of the land. Saw a ship coming out, which proved to be the “Charles W. Morgan,” of New Bedford, Captain Sampson, bound home. Paper, pens, and ink were now in great demand, and, as we wrote a few lines to the dear ones at home, the thought that in one year more we too would be “homeward-bound,” cheered us, and caused us to fancy almost that the time had arrived. But no, not yet could we sing “Huzza, we’re homeward bound!”

At noon we came to anchor in our old resting-place. All hands hastened ashore to see our old friends and exchange greetings. We received a hearty welcome from Zegrah and his wife, who remarked to us that we all belonged to Strong’s Island, we had been there so much. We learned that Rev. Mr. Snow, an American missionary, with his wife, had taken up his residence here; also that Captain Hussey had left the island as master of the whaling brig “Wm. Penn,” of San Francisco.

On visiting among the natives, we discovered a feeling of antipathy to Mr. Snow had arisen among them. We soon ascertained the cause to be what we had at first anticipated. A miserable beachcomber had been telling them that “if the king allowed the missionary to remain, in a short time he would become possessor of the island; that they would have to give every thing they obtained to him,” etc. We were surprised that such reports should be so circulated among the natives, as not the least cause had arisen for them, and could only account for it from the fact that it was characteristic of the class. What made the matter still worse was that, when Mr. Snow came to the island, he found this fellow friendless and homeless; his means of subsistence all gone, and begging from house to house. Taking pity upon him, he invited him to take up his abode at his house. Here he found excellent fare, and nothing to do but to eat, drink, and sleep; and, although Mr. S. was very much occupied in making improvements upon his dwelling and land attached, yet he was the last one to offer him any assistance, but, on the contrary, was repaying his kindness by endeavoring to prejudice the natives against him.

Several natives from the Island of Rotumah were residing on Strong’s Island at this time. We attended one of their dances, given by them in honor of our ship’s company. Their singing and dancing excelled any thing of the kind we had yet witnessed. They moved in exact time with the music, and went through the exercises with great precision. During all their dances they use the musket, which they handle with the greatest expertness. The war-dance, in particular, was one of wild and thrilling movements; their hair long, and standing in all directions from their head, even to the perpendicular; their bodies tattooed and besmeared with cocoanut oil, with nothing but a tappa about the loins and a musket by the side, they looked really frightful and war-like. The dance is performed by forming in two lines, and as they sing they perform their evolutions of advancing, discovering and attacking the enemy, wheeling to load their pieces, fronting again, the front rank dropping upon one knee to allow those in the rear to fire over them, while both lines fire in the direction of the supposed enemy, and retreat to reload. After performing these evolutions several times, they appear to come off victorious, and start off into a noisy song and dance. We remained until quite a late hour witnessing their performances, and, after all hands had given them three hearty cheers, the assemblage dispersed very peaceably. We returned to our quarters very much pleased with our evening’s entertainment, wishing it were in our power to place the band in Barnum’s hands.

We also attended, a few days after this, a feast and dance given by King George, at which a large wild hog was served up, and every thing “got up” in grand style. To this feast the Rotumah Kanakers were invited, and in the evening they again entertained us with their dances. The king and chiefs appeared highly pleased with their performances, continually exclaiming “very good fashion, that dance.”

Our second officer, Mr. L., had been sick for a number of months, yet he possessed such remarkable energy and perseverance that he would not succumb to it, but did his duty regularly up to the time of our arriving in port; and even then he appeared to feel that when we once more got to sea he should recover; but we all felt and thought differently. We could see that he was wasting away, little by little, and we felt that his days were numbered—that he would never see his home again.

On Sunday, October 31st, divine service was performed on board by Rev. Mr. Snow. For three long years we had not listened to such sounds as came to our ears on that day. It was, to say the least, a pleasing sight to see the weather-beaten tar with a hymn-book in his hand, and to hear all unite in singing the praises of God. The sermon was very plain, yet forcible, reminding us of the short tenure of our lives, and admonishing all to prepare for death. The feeling manner in which Mr. S. spoke of death on shipboard brought tears to the eyes of many, as we had not forgotten such a scene among our own small company. King George and the royal family were on board, and appeared to listen to the exercises with a great deal of interest; and when they were concluded, he wished to know of us what the good man had been talking about so long. His majesty appeared to have taken quite an interest in the missionary. He gave him a large piece of good land, built him a nice substantial house, and assisted him all in his power. He was also building a house for himself in the same vicinity.

In conversation with Mr. Snow, he informed us that it was his intention to take the children in charge, teach them the English language, and endeavor to bring them up in the right way. He, of course, anticipated trials and difficulties in his efforts. He did not intend to interfere with any of the old customs of the natives, but show to the rising generation the folly of these customs, that when they came upon the stage of action they would abolish their heathenish rites. We wished him God speed, for we believed him to be a true Christian—one who was actuated by no selfish motive, but by a desire to “do his Master’s will.” We felt, too, that great praise was due to his excellent lady, who had voluntarily surrendered the comforts and luxuries of a home among enlightened people to spend her life on one of the heathen islands of the vast Pacific, to add her mite toward civilizing and Christianizing the poor native. “Verily they will receive their reward.”

We found on shore a native of the New Zealand Islands, who had been left here sick. We visited him several times, once or twice in company with Mr. Snow. He was very sick, and did not expect to recover. The “good missionary,” as he called Mr. S., was doing all in his power to alleviate his sufferings, nursing him with all the love and sympathy of a brother; and Mrs. S. often visited the poor man. He expressed to Mr. Snow his confidence and belief in a dying Savior, trusting in his love and merits; and we doubt not that when his spirit took its flight, it went to those mansions above, where the poor New Zealander is welcomed by Christ and his angels as warmly as the favored Christian of American lands.

The time had now arrived when we were to bid adieu to Strong’s Island and its pleasures, some of us forever. Need we say that we had become somewhat attached to our friends here, who had ever treated us with such kindness? Never shall we forget them; and in future years, when memory shall recall former happy scenes and pleasures enjoyed while roving, Strong’s Island and its simple, kind-hearted natives will stand forth bold and prominent.

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