me as an old acquaintance, under the name of Dzoka, by which I had
formerly been known on shore during the Fly's visits. They had a few
coconuts, and a little tortoise-shell for barter, and were very urgent
that the ship should go to Campbell Island on her way to Darnley,
promising us abundance of water, coconuts, yams, and tortoise-shell, of
the first of which at least they could have had none to spare. In the
evening they left us, after spending the greater part of the day on
board, with their canoe towing astern. I found the native names of at
least three of the islands to differ from those given in the Admiralty's
chart of Torres Strait from the Fly's survey. Thus Nepean Island is
Edugor, not Oogar--Stephens Island is Ugar and not Attagor--and Campbell
Island is Zapker (nearly as Lewis makes it) and not Jarmuth. These names
were obtained under circumstances which obviated the possibility of
mistake. Dzum also gave much information regarding other matters, and
enabled me to fix the limits of the tribe to which he belonged, a matter
which had frequently puzzled me before. In the afternoon the Bramble--as
told to us by the natives--appeared in sight, but we could not reach
Darnley Island, so anchored after dark in forty-five fathoms, mud, seven
miles to the northward of it.

December 11th.

A light air from the North-West carried us up to the anchorage in
Treacherous Bay about noon. A canoe from the village of Kiriam came off
to us, and lay under our stern bartering tortoise-shell for knives, axes,
and tobacco, and when we shoved off in the first cutter to communicate
with the shore, one of the natives, on being asked to accompany us,
jumped into the water without a moment's hesitation, and swam to the
boat. We landed at Kiriam, and were received by a crowd of people on the
rocks and in the water.

ARE RECEIVED IN A FRIENDLY MANNER.

My old friend Siwai, with whom I had gone through the ceremony of
exchanging names nearly five years ago, showed much joy at seeing me
again, and made many enquiries regarding Jukes and others then in the
Fly. But these five years have sadly altered him--he now presents the
appearance of a feeble emaciated man prematurely old, with a short cough
and low voice--his back is bowed down, and even with the aid of a stick
he can scarcely totter along. He is now the man in most authority in the
island, his rival Mamus having been killed in New Guinea in company with
several other Darnley Isla