ocities committed on the defenceless
natives, who have been kidnapped, plundered, and murdered by
unscrupulous traders and adventurers. Unfortunately, the good suffer
for the bad, and such lives as those of Captain Goodenough and Bishop
Patteson are sacrificed through the unpardonable misconduct of
others--perhaps their own countrymen. It is still quite a chance how
you may be received in some of the islands; for if the visit of the
last ship was the occasion of the murder, plunder, and ill-treatment
of the inhabitants, it is not to be wondered at that the next comers
should be received with distrust, if not with treachery and violence.

We reached the yacht at four o'clock, rather exhausted by so many
hours' exposure to the broiling sun, having had nothing to eat since
breakfast, at 7 a.m., except cocoa-nuts and bananas. The ship was put
about, the sails filled, and, continuing steadily on our course
throughout the evening, we made the smaller of the two peninsulas that
form the island of Tahiti at 10.30 p.m.

_Saturday, December 2nd_. We were dodging on and off all night, and at
daybreak the weather was thick and rainy. At 4.30 a.m. we made the
land again, and crept slowly along it, past Point Venus and the
lighthouse in Matavai Bay (Captain Cook's first anchorage), until we
were off the harbour of Papeete.[8] The rain was now descending in
torrents, and we lay-to outside the reef for a short time, until a
French pilot came on board and took us in through the narrow entrance.
It was curious, while we were tumbling about in the rough sea outside,
to see the natives placidly fishing in the tiniest of canoes on the
lagoon inside the reef, the waves beating all the time furiously on
the outer surface of the coral breakwater, as if anxious to seize and
engulf them.

[Footnote 8: 'Papiete' or 'Papeete,' _a bag of water_.]

At nine o'clock we were safely anchored in the chief port of the
island of Tahiti.

Perhaps I cannot better bring this account of our long voyage from
Valparaiso to a conclusion than by a quotation from a charming book,
given to me at Rio, which I have lately been reading Baron de Hubner's
'Promenade autour du Monde:'--'Les jours se suivent et se ressemblent.
Sauf le court episode du mauvais temps, ces trois semaines me font
l'effet d'un charmant reve, d'un conte de fee, d'une promenade
imaginaire a travers une salle immense, tout or et lapis-lazuli. Pas
un moment d'ennui ou d'impatience. Si vous vo