to us, and lay under our stern bartering tortoise-shell for knives, axes,
and tobacco, and when we shoved off in the first cutter to communicate
with the shore, one of the natives, on being asked to accompany us,
jumped into the water without a moment's hesitation, and swam to the
boat. We landed at Kiriam, and were received by a crowd of people on the
rocks and in the water.

ARE RECEIVED IN A FRIENDLY MANNER.

My old friend Siwai, with whom I had gone through the ceremony of
exchanging names nearly five years ago, showed much joy at seeing me
again, and made many enquiries regarding Jukes and others then in the
Fly. But these five years have sadly altered him--he now presents the
appearance of a feeble emaciated man prematurely old, with a short cough
and low voice--his back is bowed down, and even with the aid of a stick
he can scarcely totter along. He is now the man in most authority in the
island, his rival Mamus having been killed in New Guinea in company with
several other Darnley Islanders whose names were mentioned to me; they
had been on a visit to a friendly tribe, one of whose quarrels they
espoused, and only a few returned to Errub to tell the tale. The natives
wished us to stay at Kiriam, but as the principal object of the ship's
coming to the island was to procure water, we were anxious to know
whether it could be obtained in sufficient quantity at Bikar, where the
Fly and Bramble had watered before. As Siwai told us that there was none
at Bikar, but plenty at Mogor--his own village--we pulled along to the
latter place, accompanied by himself and three of his sons. In passing
along the south-west side of the island, we were struck with the superior
richness of vegetation and apparent fertility, compared with what we had
seen in New Guinea and the Louisiade Archipelago during the previous part
of the cruise. Some portions reminded one of English park scenery--gently