ad been a sea-gull on the wing. About her head
there was wreathed a kind of muslin scarf, which she unwound and offered
to me, indicating that I was to tie it about my waist, and it would
preserve me from harm. So weak and exhausted was I that, without
thinking, I did her bidding, and then lost sight of the female.
Presently, as it seemed (but I was so drowsy that the time may have been
longer than I fancied), I caught sight of land from the crest of a wave.
Steep blue cliffs arose far away out of a white cloud of surf, and,
though a strong swimmer, I had little hope of reaching the shore in
safety.

Fortunately, or rather, I should say, providentially, the current and
tide-rip carried me to the mouth of a river, and, with a great effort, I
got into the shoal-water, and finally staggered out on shore. There was
a wood hard by, and thither I dragged myself. The sun was in mid heavens
and very warm, and I managed to dry my clothes. I am always most
particular to wear the dress of my calling, observing that it has a
peculiar and gratifying effect on the minds of the natives. I soon dried
my tall hat, which, during the storm, I had attached to my button-hole by
a string, and, though it was a good deal battered, I was not without
hopes of partially restoring its gloss and air of British respectability.
As will be seen, this precaution was, curiously enough, the human means
of preserving my life. My hat, my black clothes, my white neck-tie, and
the hymn-book I carry would, I was convinced, secure for me a favourable
reception among the natives (if of the gentle brown Polynesian type),
whom I expected to find on the island.

Exhausted by my sufferings, I now fell asleep, but was soon wakened by
loud cries of anguish uttered at no great distance. I started to my
feet, and beheld an extraordinary spectacle, which at once assured me
that I had fallen among natives of the worst and lowest type. The dark
places of the earth are, indeed, full of horrid cruelty.

The first cries which had roused me must have been comparatively distant,
though piercing, and even now they reached me confused in the notes of a
melancholy chant or hymn. But the shrieks grew more shrill, and I
thought I could distinguish the screams of a woman in pain or dread from
the groans drawn with more difficulty from a man. I leaped up, and,
climbing a high part of the river bank, I beheld, within a couple of
hundred yards, an extraordinary procession