whilst his crew was made up of two Samoans and four Fijians. The
captain seemed to enjoy yelling at his men in the Fijian language,
with a strong flavouring of English "swear words," and spoke about
the Fijians in terms of utter contempt, calling them "d -- --
d cannibals." The cabin wag a small one with only two bunks, and
swarmed with green beetles and cockroaches. Our meals were all taken
together on deck, and consisted of yams, ship's biscuit and salt junk.

We had a grand breeze to start with, but toward evening it died down
and we lay becalmed. All hands being idle, the Samoans spent the time
in singing the catchy songs of Samoa, most of which I was familiar with
from my long stay in those islands, and their delight was great when
I joined in. About midnight a large whale floated calmly alongside,
not forty yards from our little schooner, and we trembled to think what
would happen if it was at all inclined to be playful. We whistled all
the next day for a breeze, but our efforts were not a success until
toward evening, when we were rewarded in a very liberal manner, and
arrived after dark at the village of Cawa Lailai,[1] on the island of
Koro. On our landing quite a crowd of wild-looking men and women, all
clad only in sulus, met us on the beach. Although it is a large island,
there is only one white man on it, and he far away from here, so no
doubt I was an interesting object. I put up at the hut of the "Buli"
or village chief, and after eating a dish of smoking yams, I was soon
asleep, in spite of the mosquitoes. It dawned a lovely morning and I
was soon afoot to view my surroundings. It was a beautiful village,
surrounded by pretty woods on all sides, and I saw and heard plenty
of noisy crimson and green parrots everywhere. I also learnt that
a few days previously there had been a wholesale marriage ceremony,
when nearly all the young men and women had been joined in matrimony.