162 TEE CRUISE OF TEE " CACEALOT." 



didn't know what to do with it. There was a native 

 town and a couple of low groggeries kept by Chinamen, 

 where some of my shipmates promptly invested a portion 

 of their wealth in some horrible liquor, the smell of 

 which was enough to make an ordinary individual sick. 

 There was no place apparently where one could get a 

 meal, so that the prospect of our stay ashore lasting a 

 day did not seem very great. I was fortunate enough, 

 however, to foregather with a Scotchman who was a 

 beach-comber, and consequently " knew the ropes." I 

 dare say he was an unmitigated blackguard whenever he 

 got the chance, but he was certainly on his best 

 behaviour with me. He took me into the country a bit 

 to see the sights, which were such as most of the Pacific 

 islands afford. Wonderful indeed were the fantastic 

 rocks, twisted into innumerable grotesque shapes, and, 

 along the shores, hollowed out into caverns of all sizes, 

 some large enough to shelter an army. He was quite 

 familiar with the natives, understanding enough of their 

 queer lingo to get along. By his friendly aid we got 

 some food — yams, and fish cooked in native fashion, 

 i.e. in heated holes in the ground, for which the friendly 

 Kanakas would take no payment, although they looked 

 murderous enough to be cannibals. It does not do to go 

 by looks always. 



Well, after a long ramble, the Scotchman and I laid 

 our weary bodies down in the shade of a big rock, and 

 had a grand sleep, waking up again a little before 

 sunset. We hastened down to the beach off the town, 

 where all my watchmates were sitting in a row, like 

 lost sheep, waiting to be taken on board again. They 

 had had enough of liberty; indeed, such liberty as that 

 was hardly worth having. It seems hardly credible. 



