held my hand with his dying strength.

"'John,' he said, in a little, thin voice, 'quick, listen to me.... Tell
Mr. Brown... make for the Spanish sloop. But I fear he is a shuffler....
but... a rich prize..., God bless you, my lad.'

"And with this the grip of his hand relaxed, and his eyes closed in
death. For some minutes I permitted my tears to flow uninterruptedly,
then went on deck and reported our dear captain's end to the gunner, as
well as his last words. Mr. Brown was then on shore, but soon came off;
and that evening our worthy and lamented commander was borne to his
lonely grave on the island, amid tears of unfeigned grief by every one
present.

"At daylight next morning Mr. Brown, upon whom the command now devolved,
ordered us with very unwarrantable and harsh language to get the ship
ready for sea.

"'Sir,' said the gunner, 'to-day is Sunday, and the men are not yet over
the loss of the captain.'

"But this only brought forth a very violent explosion from Mr. Brown,
who called him a mutineer, and added that he intended to sail that day
for the whaling ground; that the Spanish sloop might rot at her moorings
for all he cared; and finally that he was master now, and would brook no
interference.

"So amid the gloomy looks and muttered discontent of the men the anchor
was weighed, and the _Port-au-Prince_ stood out of the harbour to meet
with her final and terrible disaster."

III.

"It was on Saturday, the 20th of November, 1806, that we anchored at one
of the Haapai Islands, in the Tonga Group, or as people now call them,
the Friendly Islands. The town was named Lifuka, and it was a very
beautiful place to look at, for the houses of the natives were embowered
in palm groves of the loveliest verdure, and a very white beach ran from
one end of the island to the other.

"Our voyage from the Galapagos had in no wise been a fortunate one;
for we had taken but two whales, and the crew were in a highly mutinous
state. Our new captain had grossly insulted the officer of marines from
the first, and said that he and his men were a set of lazy, skulking
dogs. Now ours had always been a very happy ship's company when Captain
Duck was alive, and the marines we had on board had become as good
seamen as any other of our people, so that this speech rankled deeply in
their minds and bore bitter fruit, as will presently be shown.

"No sooner had we dropped anchor than a great number of natives came
on board.