I hope you have finished your book to your 
entire satisfaction, and may some day have the 
pleasure of seeing it. 
With much love I remain your 
Affectionate son 
Charlie. 
Bakers Island, Dec. 24/59 
My dear friend Henry: 
I came very near not writing to you this time, 
but fortunately for you it has been a surf day 
and I have a few moments to spare. I have 
written over twenty-six pages of thickly written 
letter paper to-day—for the “Josephine” will sail 
as soon as I can get the mail on board. 
We arrived here on the 25th of November, 
seventeen days from Honolulu. I found to my 
sorrow that an accident had happened to my 
shear wharf, and that it was all “Pau Loa”. 
During a heavy surf a piece of the sunken wreck 
was washed up against them and washed them 
down—or rather, the spars broke in two in the 
middle; I had the head and feet too secure with 
chains for them to give way. So I have the 
“Flying Dragon” on my hands yet; for I have 
to boat all the Guano through the surf in whale¬ 
boats, which is so high at this season of the year 
that it is almost impossible to prevent getting 
stove up every day; still I am in hopes that most 
of the surf days are over. TKe “Josiah Bradlee” 
74 ' 
has gone to leeward ; she has been absent ever 
since the 19th inst. Emmie 34 ' has got the new 
house nearly all fixed up, entirely so on one side 
up stairs. She is just as happy down here as 
she can be; I ani surprised to see her so con¬ 
tented. Mrs. Watson spent two or three weeks 
on shore with us, but her husband took her on 
board a week or two ago. 
I have to steer the boats myself through the 
surf, though Allan is learning fast. Yet it is 
dangerous work. I came near losing my life one 
afternoon. When the “Josiah Bradlee” arrived, 
I went after the mail, and in returning (it was 
a surf day), a huge roller caught the boat and 
upset it. I was underneath and had to dive to 
get out; just as I reached the surface of the 
water, the next roller threw me under again; 
then two natives came to my assistance. I swal¬ 
lowed any quantity of salt water, which ran from 
my nose and mouth for hours after. So you see 
I have my “pilikias”—and I sometimes feel quite 
discouraged; but I try to keep up a good heart. 
One of my men died two weeks ago—from 
superstition I think. I did all I could for him, 
but he had refused much of any food for twelve 
days, unknown to me, and was so weak he died 
very quietly and suddenly. 
Thus death comes among us, and in this little 
community we feel it more deeply. I tried to 
