The following day was so beautiful as to be beyond my powers to describe. We had a fair wind, and the air was not excessively warm. I think we all felt rather indifferent, and the recollection of the spot we had left the day before did not quicken our energies. In the afternoon the crew were called aft. Captain Gamans stood with hands in his pockets, and we knew that he was about to address us. Was he to upbraid us for something we had done? That seemed improbable. Was he to convey to us bad or good news? We were anxious to know. The captain took the pipe out of his mouth and spoke as follows:
“You men know that just so often you must have a supply of fresh water and a change of food. We’ve got the water, and now we are going to get the food. The owner put aboard of this vessel a lot of cotton cloth, fancy prints, shoes, fishhooks, axes, hatchets, pipes, bar soap and a lot of other things for trade. Now you see if you go into port like Nukahiva, where the natives have become what you call civilized, there’s no barter but money, and you pay a good deal more for things than they are worth. If you trade with the natives where there’s no money, and they ain’t been civilized, you can get a lot of recruits for a mere song. That’s what we are going to do. We are bound for Roa Pona, and we’ll be there to-morrow. After the trading is all done, there’s going to be shore leave for everybody. I have been there before and it’s a good place to trade, but it’s just as well to keep your eyes open. About twenty years ago a whaler went in there to trade and took on board a native as hostage and left on shore a Kanaka, a foremast hand, as the other hostage. In the night the natives killed the Kanaka and roasted and ate him. So now, in trading, ships take a native hostage, but they don’t give one. The trading is done in and from boats, and it’s slow work and takes half a day. The second day’s when you have shore leave, and you can take ashore what trinkets and odds and ends you have, if you want to, and trade with the women for the things they make. You may want to take some of these things home with you to give to your folks.
“Now there’s one thing more. When I was here, before, there was a beach comber on this island named Pete Ellyon. He’s a deserter from a New Bedford whaler and acts as a kind of trader and interpreter. He’s meaner and lower than the meanest and lowest native, and you’d better look out for him. You can’t offer a sailor a greater insult than to call him a beach comber. This man Ellyon’s folks are pretty decent people, and he’s had some education, but he’s a renegade.”