264 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. s, igoi. 
From where you stand to 'Sconset, as the crow flies, is 
about eight miles, but not having wings you prefer to 
return to Nantucket and take the train. To be sure, the 
train has not wings any more than you, but it will save a 
long tramp, and by this time probably your legs begin to 
feel a bit weary. You get aboard then and the little 
engine gives a little shriek and tlie little car attached be- 
gins to agitate violently and off you go. Up and down, 
np and down, over the brown moors and through the 
scraggy firs and by the dismal swamp (where the crows 
build) for half an hour, and then you reach 'Sconset. 
You are all excitement, for you have been told that 'Scon- 
set is eve,n more curious than Nantucket. And it proves 
to be so — in a measure, at least. Here we have the 
dirriinutive gray cottage, only still more diminutive and 
vine-covered — not one, but a whole street of them (which 
is called Broadway, if you please) ; the whaleboats, the 
harpoons, the oilskins, gone sadly out of business for aye; 
the ships' heads, the old guns, the whales' jaw bones; the 
prehistoric relics, the immemorial pump and ye ancient 
mariner. And day and night a sweet peace broods over 
'Sconset. only broken by the deep organ lullaby of old 
ocean. "See Naples and die!" it has been said. You 
will improve upon this and say, ".See 'Sconset and sleep!" 
Yes, you do not want to die after seeing 'Sconset — you 
only want to sleep (Oh, the delicious drowsiness of the 
air!), and then awake and see 'Sconset every day and 
never care ivf the bank breaks. 
Once more you are back in Nantucket. It is evening, 
and you go up on the hill by the old mill. "The sky is a 
tender gray and harmonizes perfectly with the little village 
at your feet and the distant waters. You look toward 
Polpjs and see the headlight begin to gleam; then you 
turn around and look over the moors : all is silent, vague, 
mysterious. Till nightfall and long after you remain 
there under some spell, as it were. When you descend 
into the village you begin to people its quiet streets with 
returning fishermen ; you see their shining oilskins and 
lumbering gait and hear their bluff talk and hearty laugh- 
ter. The little cottage doors open to receive them, there 
are joyous shouts of welcome and — hark! What is that? 
It is curfew, as it tolled then and as it tolls now in 
Nantucket. Unique Nantucket. Frank Moonan, 
Starving on Trackless Seas. 
Marine peril is a commonplace in the South Sea. It is 
always so possible to anybody that when it does happen it 
is scarcely deemed worthy of mention. Certainly the 
world outside hears little of these things. 
A large boat went astray in Samoa and vanished. 
Weeks lator the survivors were brought to Apia barely 
alive. A few out of all the company had been able to 
bear the agony of hunger and thirst, and the maddening 
beat of the sun for their weeks of idle drifting and frantic 
sailing, none knew whither, none knew where. From the 
pinched and drawn lips of these survivors this account of 
their wanderings was extracted. 
They had set out gaily as a pleasure party. Their home 
being in Manu'a, thej' had made a tour of the archipelago 
as far as Savaii. Here and there they had tarried for long 
days of feasting. At Apia they had done their trading 
for foreign wares which were seldom seen in their distant 
home. The tmrelieyed idleness of Samoan life affords 
opportunity for these prolonged visits, which may ex- 
tend over several months. These "malangas," as the 
visiting parties are named, are a great evil; they throw 
back the community from which they start; they are 
such a burden upon the communities on which they call 
for entertainment that the visit may well be regarded as a 
visitation. They foment discord as they go, they leave 
famine in their track. 
Slowly, by reason of the frequent halts for entertain- 
ment and for the chance of a fair wind, this "malanga" 
had made its way homeward, until nothing remained but 
the passage of the broad Manu'a Strait. At the east end 
of Tutuila the voyagers had waited day after day in in- 
dolent ease, night after night they had expected the west 
wind which sometimes and at irregular intervals sets in 
after sunset in opposition to the easterly trade wind which 
blows by day. It came at last. The boat, a large whale- 
boat, built by foreign carpenters in Apia, was hauled into 
the water and loaded with the goods which the travelers 
had accumulated at the different villages which they had 
visited. The boat had ten benches for the accommodation 
of twice that number of oarsmen when it was necessary 
to travel with that motive power. For use with a favor- 
ing wind it was equipped with three short masts, each of 
which carried a sail in front and a sail behind ; seen from 
a distance, the boat looked very much like a procession of 
three single-masted sailboats. The cargo was stowed in 
the bottom of the boat under the benches of the rowers, an 
open space at the stem afforded cramped quarters for 
those members of the party who were not actively engaged 
at the oars. The provisions were the last thing to be 
put in before setting out upon the voyage. The village 
which had been entertaining the visitors gave a supply of 
cold, cooked food, the remnants of tke last day's dinner; 
for water there was shipped an abundant supply of green 
cocoanuts, which might easily be tapped when any one 
was thirsty. 
The visiting party numbered twenty-eight, a few being 
women and a very few children. Being accustomed to do 
the same work as men, and having a sufficiency of 
strength, these women were Ijy no means mere pas- 
sengers ; when necessary they shared the labor at the oar. 
With luck — that is, if the we.st wind which had set in 
just after sunset should continue throughout the night — 
they might expect to be at dawn either at the reef of their 
own island or within sight of it, and at such a nearness 
that it would not be difficult to finish the voyage with the 
oars. On thi,s theory of their voyage they were suificiently 
provisioned ; all their experience went to show that they 
were taking no risk worth thinking about in setting out 
upon this niglit trip of onlj' sixty miles. They had no' 
compass with them. That is not the fatal oro.ission which 
it may appear, for if they had carried a compass there 
was not a person aboard who knew how to use it. These 
islanders never use the compass; their cardinal points 
are the place from which the winds come; at night they 
can make a limited use of the stars. Their chief reliance 
as to direction is on the winds, a fairly safe guide by day 
whep the trade wind is blowing, by no means so much to 
be depended on when it happens to be the counter-trade 
by night. 
When they .started, the wind from the westward and 
favorable for their destination, was blowing rather fresh. 
This strength lasted for several miles, but as they gradu- 
ally drew out of the influence of the land breeze caused 
by the mass of Tutuila, the wind became much lighter, 
although it remained favorable, what there was of it. 
There was enough wind to keep the boat steadily mov- 
ing toward Manu'a, but the leader of the party recognized 
that with such a light breeze the morning would show 
them still far from their destination, and with the pros- 
pect of a long row against the strong wind of the day. 
From time to time some of tlie men rowed to help the 
boat on, but such efforts were half-hearted at best and 
soon relinquished. Mostly they slept huddled in such 
attitudes as promised the least comfort in the cramping 
quarters of the boat. Some, waking from their uneasy 
sleep, sat for a while in talk with the helmsman or the 
sail tenders. From time to time the wakeful ate what 
food pleased them in the abundant stock which had been 
provided. As the night passed on the wind grew steadily 
weaker, and in the last watch had little more than just 
enough force to keep the boat from falling into the trough 
of the long ocean swell. 
When dawn broke the last puff of wind expired, and the 
boat lay in a dead calm. Nowhere was a sign of land, 
neither of Tutuila, from which they had sailed at the be- 
ginning of the night, nor of Tau, for which they were 
bound. As is usual in the equatorial Pacific, the horizon 
was hemmed in with light banks of clouds which are 
dissipated only when the day breeze begins. There was 
now no wind, and it would be useless labor to row be- 
fore the land came into sight. They were content, there- 
fore, to lie tossing idly on the sea until the coming of the 
daily tradewind should blow away the cloudbank and 
disclose the high peak of the well-known mountain of 
Tau. Meanwhile they said their morning prayer and pre- 
pared to eat. They could have no prevision of what was 
in store for them, the prudence elsewhere called ordi- 
nary is something which is absent from their dispositions ; 
they spread out the food and ate as much as they in- 
dividually desired. No one had any other thought than 
that they would eat the next meal at home. The broken 
scraps of bread fruit and taro and cold fish were put away 
in the food baskets to serve as a Itmcheon for any who 
might become hungry at the oar. With the same lack of 
calculation they drank from their supply of cocoanuts. 
Breakfast over, they sat smoking, until the trade wind, 
coming' with clock-like precision, should show the course 
of such voyaging as yet remained for them. 
With the rising of the wind the clouds cleared away 
and left the horizon visible to the furthest reach of the 
eye. Nowhere in the whole circuit was there any appear- 
ance of land. It was disappointing, but according to their 
past experiences it was not yet discouraging. Under 
direction of their leader they set the sails and ran before 
the wind to the westward. Their own home lay eastward, 
hut there were two reasons for refraining from the at- 
tempt to reach it. One was the wind, which was con- 
trary and against which this open boat could make no 
headway. The other was the great probability of missing 
such a very small mark in the open ocean. But to the 
westward the three great islands radiated like the sticks 
of a fan; there was good reason to hope to sight land 
and wait to make a fresh start. All that day they sailed 
before the wind. The outlook was incessant; every- eye 
was alert to be the first to catch the spot on the horizon 
which would show where the land lay. The hours went 
by, the boat flew westward, not a sign of any land ap- 
peared. When the sun set and the calm set in the lost 
boatload fell to arguing. They judged that their sailing 
throughout the day had set them back in the neighborhood 
of Upolu; on that they were agreed. But some were 
of the opinion that the land lay to the north, others were 
as confident that it was to the south ; each supported its 
view by long argument. When the night breeze arose 
they were still uncertain of their position, therefore their 
course was equally indeterminate. For part of the night 
they sailed northward and saw no land. Then the other 
opinion prevailed, and they sailed south until daybreak 
and the falling of the wind. Though they did not know 
it, they had probably returned to the place which at sunset 
they had left. They had spent the night to no purpose. 
The evening before they had eaten plentifully of the pro- 
vision which yet remained in the baskets. This second 
morning there was little left — scraps of vegetables and 
odds and ends of fruit. They scraped it all together and 
divided it among the company; after this breakfast there 
was nothing left, the baskets were thrown overboard. 
There now remained to them cocoanuts sufficient to allow 
each person one. They were still confident of arriving at 
some land during the day ; they felt no alarm at the giving 
out of their rations. Even if their voyage should be pro- 
longed yet another day, they were in no danger of famine; 
among the cargo was a considerable supply of tins of 
corned beef and salmon. 
That day and the night which followed they sailed 
without purpose. As one or another would suggest his 
opinion that the land lay in this direction or in that, they 
quartered the sea back and forth. On the third morning 
the last cocoanut was used — the water supply was accord- 
mgly used up. This was a hardship in itself; it was 
made harder by the ration of corned beef which was 
served out from the cargo, New Zealand packing, which 
is not only heavily salted, but peppered as well. The only 
thing to drink was the liquor in the tins of salmon. Ac- 
cordingly they began to use up the salmon rather than 
the beef — it served the purpose of food and drink in one. 
According to the survivors, who had difficulty in recall- 
ing events after the first few days, the fourth day was 
a particularly hard one. While the liquor of the salmon 
was fluid, it did not quench the thirst — the flavor of the 
fish only made them more eager for water. On that day 
many were sure that they saw land, a tiny speck on the 
horizon, land north, land south, each clamoring that the 
hoat's course be changed to pursue his own delusion, and 
sinking back dully as the hours of sailing showed no sign 
•of rescue. After that fourth day everything is vague. 
There was food but no water ; the food was all presented 
and therefore added new torture to the maddening thirst. 
On some days there were showers, when water might be 
•caught in the sails. The canvas was thoroughly soaked 
with the sea; the rain water caught in it was always 
Tjrackish. But it was wet and it was water. Above all, it 
was cold, it is only in the torrid regions of the earth that 
one can appreciate how cold the drop of water is when ili 
falls from the high heaven. In these undistinguished days 
they had given up any attempt at sailing in this direction) 
or in that; the only navigation was to cruise so as to in-t 
tercept any squall within their horizon which promised! 
the water without which they must die. Once at leasti 
there was a whole day of rain; they had for once their 
fill of water; they bathed in it; they filled every can and| 
other receptacle aboard the boat with provision for the 
rainless days to come. That rainy day put new life irt( 
them; with their thirst allayed they ate with a relish andi 
brought back their strength. But it was only a dis-i 
appointing revival. They were just as much adrift on thd' 
trackless ocean. By morning the scanty treasure of water 
was putrid. In a few days they had eaten the last can oi 
the meat and the salmon which was aboard. 
There were all ages among the castaways, from thej 
feeble with age to the boys and girls. The aged sufferedi 
most, if there can be any grades of suffering in a trial 
which bears with equal force on each one. In those un- 
distinguished days after the food was all gone, a new 
calamity befell — motherhood visited that boat in the 
empty sea. It was the mother who told these brokeni 
recollections of the dreadful voyage. The aged died, the 
young died, the suffering was too great for men in thei 
prime of life, yet this woman underwent the same suffer-; 
ing under which the others died. She could not remem- 
ber much — there was a child; it lived some time; it died, 
because there was no food. As she recalls it the intarlb 
was the first to die. They said a prayer over it ; while it 
still lived they sprinkled it with salt spray from the sea;; 
when it died they laid it in the sea and sailed away from 
the spot with prayer. She was sure of that burial at 
sea — the first of many. She was almost fierce in making! 
it clear that the infant was buried. The food was aU 
gone ; they were all dynng of starvation and of thirst, but 
they buried the body in the sea with a prayer, and then 
they sailed away as fast as they could. 
When the woman told of tliis first death and .sea burie) 
the other survivors became almost frenzied in their denials 
of what they knew was in the thought, though it was not 
spoken, the horror which must come to starving voyagers) 
in an open boat. "Tell the lady," they cried; "tell her 
what we ate. Tell her how we tore up our tapa cloth and, 
chewed the pieces for the arrowroot with which it was 
gummed together; how we ripped out the boards fromi 
the bottom of the boat and chewed the splinters. And 
tell her how they died one after another, but we said a 
prayer and buried them in the sea and sailed away." Oti 
land once more, they felt the worst horror of it; thejl 
reiterated their denials of what they had reason to know 
would be thought. It was pitiftrl, their mad denial of the 
rest of that sad voyage. 
Twenty-two days after they had set sail from Tutuila 
to cross the strait which separated them from home, the 
boat was tossed over the reef of the island of Atafu and 
washed ashore. The island of Atafu is in the Tokelau 
or Union Archipelago, nearly a thousand mile^ from 
Samoa toward the north. Its people are a kindred race 
to the Samoans ; perhaps the island was populated in some 
such way of suffering as this. The islanders of Atafu 
saw the boat as it came drifting to their island; they 
thought it one of the derelicts which sometimes come 
drifting in upon their sea. It seemed to have no one in 
it; there was no sign of life; but it was a boat, and there- 
fore worth saving. When it was thrown over their reef 
without damage and was seen to be drifting ashore, they: 
followed it along the beach, and were at hand when it 
touched the sand. Then they found the dying remnant 
of the Samoan pleasure party. The boat was an empty 
shell ; everything movable had been thrown overboard. 
Huddled in the bottom of the boat were eight people. 
They seemed corpses ; not one moved when the boat came 
to rest. The Atafu islanders hesitated at the ghastly 
cargo; in their superstition there were some who advised 
turning the death-boat adrift and avoiding the ill luck 
which would surely be theirs if they had anything to do 
with the craft of misfortune. But there were others who 
coveted the boat and were sure that the native pastor 
could pray the ill luck out of it. These prevailed in the 
hasty consultation on the sands ; they entered the boat . 
to get rid of the corpses. Then they found a last flickering 
of life in each one. They lifted them out of the boat and 
bore them across the sandy to the scanty shade of the 
pandanus trees at high-water mark. There were eight — . 
six men and two women. All bore the marks of the • 
maddening privations of the voyage; they were little more • 
than skeletons, feebly held together. It was days before i 
they recovered consciousness under the ministrations of 
the community to which they had drifted. Then the 
John Williams, missionary yacht, opportunely visited Atafu 
on its yearly round of the stations of the London Mission 
Society. There were those aboard who could administer 
medicines, which hastened the recovery of the victims. 
They took them aboard the vessel and treated them with 
skill. They brought them back to Apia, where the best of 
medical skill was devoted to them. Yet two of the eight 
were beyond rallying, one of the women and cue of 
the men, were beyond all help — they died in Apia. Yet 
with almost her last breath, the woman who died, the 
woman who had suffered so much worse than the others 
on the voyage, made a pitiful plea that no mistake should 
be made in the story of the voyage, that it should be be- 
lieved that as they died in turn they were buried in the 
^ sea, and a prayer was said over each as the survivors 
sailed away from the spot. They knew well what reputa- 
tion has spread throughout the world as to- the habits of 
South Sea islanders. They would not have it thought 
that even in such dire necessity could they turn to can- 
nibalism; they tried to make it plain that neither now' 
nor ever before could Samoans be cannibals. 
Llewella Pierce Churchill. 
He killed the noble Mudjoklvis, 
With the skin he rnade him mittens, 
Made them with the fur side inside; 
Made them with the skin aide outside; 
He, to get the cold side outside, 
P«t the inside skin side otltside; 
He, to get the cold side outside. 
Put the •warm side, fur side inside; 
That's -why he put the fur side inside. 
Why he put the skin side outside. 
Why he turned them inside outside. 
