84 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



but its very name was fraught with sinister and 

 tragic suggestiveness ; — it was the home of the 

 lepers, the island of the Living Death. 



We did not anchor at any time. None of the 

 whaling fleet which meets here every spring ever 

 anchors. The lure of the tropical shores is strong 

 and there would be many desertions if the ships 

 lay in port. We sailed close to shore in the day 

 time, often entering Honolulu harbor, but at 

 night we lay oif and on, as the sailor term is — 

 that is we tacked oflp shore and back again, rarely 

 venturing closer than two or three miles, a dis- 

 tance the hardiest swimmer, bent upon desertion, 

 would not be apt to attempt in those shark- 

 haunted waters. 



Many attempts to escape from vessels of the 

 whaling fleet occur in the islands every year. We 

 heard many yarns of these adventures. A week 

 before we arrived, five sailors had overpowered 

 the night watch aboard their ship and escaped to 

 shore in a whale boat. They were captured in 

 the hills back of Honolulu and returned to their 

 vessel. This is usually the fate of runaways. A 



