and were astonished to find that they remained four minutes under the
water. That exertion appeared to me, however, to fatigue them a great
deal, to such a degree that the blood streamed from their nostrils and
ears. At last one of them brought up the sheaves and received the
promised recompense, which consisted of four yards of cotton.

Karaka-koua bay where we lay, may be three quarters of a mile deep, and
a mile and a half wide at the entrance: the latter is formed by two low
points of rock which appear to have run down from the mountains in the
form of lava, after a volcanic eruption. On each point is situated a
village of moderate size; that is to say, a small group of the low huts
of the islanders. The bottom of the bay terminates in a bold
_escarpment_ of rock, some four hundred feet high, on the top of which
is seen a solitary cocoa-tree.

On the evening of the 14th, I went ashore with some other passengers,
and we landed at the group of cabins on the western point, of those
which I have described. The inhabitants entertained us with a dance
executed by nineteen young women and one man, all singing together, and
in pretty good time. An old man showed us the spot where Captain Cook
was killed, on the 14th of February, 1779, with the cocoa-nut trees
pierced by the balls from the boats which the unfortunate navigator
commanded. This old man, whether it were feigned or real sensibility,
seemed extremely affected and even shed tears, in showing us these
objects. As for me, I could not help finding it a little singular to be
thus, by mere chance, upon this spot, on the 14th of February, 1811;
that is to say, thirty-two years after, on the anniversary of the
catastrophe which has rendered it for ever celebrated. I drew no
sinister augury from the coincidence, however, and returned to the ship
with my companions as gay as I left it. When I say with my companions, I