In spite of my sickness I managed to shoot a fair number of duck,
wild chickens and pigeon, and also a few birds for my collection. One
day, in spite of the rain, I was rowed over to Ngamia, which is
a wonderfully beautiful island, about three hours from Qelani. It
was thickly covered with a fine cycad which grows amongst the rocks
overhanging the sea. The natives call it "loga-loga,"[8] and eat the
fruit. I landed and botanized a bit, finding some new and interesting
plants, and then rowed on a few miles to call on the only white man
on the island, an Australian named Mitchell, who has a large coconut
property. He was astonished and pleased to see me, and introduced
me to his Fijian wife, and his two pretty half-caste daughters soon
got together a good breakfast for me. He seemed glad to see a white
man again, and nearly talked my head off , and was full of anecdotes
about the fighting they had with the Fijian cannibals in 1876. He
told me that in the last great hurricane his house was blown over on
to a small island which he owned nearly half-a-mile away.

To describe all the incidents of my long visit would fill a book,
but I think I have written enough to show what a very interesting
time I spent with this Fijian Prince. It was without doubt one of
the most curious experiences of all my travels in different parts
of the globe. With all his faults, Ratu Lala was a good fellow, and
he certainly was a sportsman. All Fiji knows his failings, otherwise
I should not have alluded to them. The old blood of the Fijians ran
in his veins, his ancestors were kings who had been used to command
and to tyrannise; therefore he could never see any harm in the many
stories of his escapades that he told me, and he seemed much offended
and surprised when I advised him not to talk about them to other
Europeans. When I started off to Levuka I was greatly surprised to
see all the women of Somo-somo sitting on the beach waiting to see me