at
once, and went home, alas! to see her die.

"In 1822 I went to Naples, and was wrecked while on my way to Messina.
In the following year I went to Sierra Leone as chief mate of a ship
called the _Gambia_. Of nineteen persons who went out in that ship,
only the captain, two coloured men, and myself lived to return."

"Why, Mr Nobbs," interrupted John Buffett at this point, "I used to
think I'd seen a deal o' rough service, but I couldn't hold a candle to
you, sir."

"It is an unenviable advantage to have of you," returned the other, with
a sad smile. "However, I'm getting near the end now. In all that I
have said I have not told you what the Lord has done for my soul.
Another time I will tell that to you. At present it is enough to say,
that I had heard of your little island here, and of the wonderful
accounts of it brought home at various times. I had an intense longing
to reach it and devote my life to the service of Jesus. I sold all my
little possessions, resolving to quit England for ever. But I could
find no means of getting to Pitcairn. Leaving England, however, in
November 1825, I reached Calcutta in May 1826, sailed thence for
Valparaiso in 1827, and proceeded on to Callao. Here I fell in with
Bunker, to whom you have all been so kind. Finding no vessel going in
this direction, and my finances being nearly exhausted, I agreed on a
plan with him. He had a launch of eighteen tons, a mere boat, as you
know, but, being in bad health and without means, could not fit her out.
I agreed to spend my all in fitting this launch for sea, on the
understanding that I should become part proprietor, and that Bunker
should accompany me to Pitcairn.

"Well, you see, friends, we have managed it. Through the mercy of God
we have, by our two selves, made this voyage of 3500 miles, and now I
hope that my days of wandering are over, and that I shall begin here to
do the work of the Prince of Peace; but, alas! I fear that my poor
friend Bunker's days are numbered."

He was right. This bold adventurer, about whose history we know
nothing, died a few weeks after his arrival at Pitcairn.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

FAREWELL!

And now, at last, approached a crisis in the Life of Pitcairn, which had
indeed been long foreseen, long dreaded, and often thought of, but
seldom hinted at by the islanders.

Good, patient, long-enduring John Adams began to draw towards the end of
his strange, unique, and glorious career.