‘He was tried for his life in Fiji in Sir Arthur Gordon’s time, and if ever he prayed at all, the name of Sir Arthur was certainly not forgotten. He was speared in seven places in New Ireland--the same time his mate was killed--the famous outrage on board the brig _Jolly Roger_, but _the treacherous savages made little by their wickedness_’ (the italics are mine) ‘and Bostock, in spite of their teeth, got seventy-five head of volunteer (?) labour on board, of whom not more than a dozen died of injuries. He had a hand besides in the amiable pleasantry which cost the life of Patteson; and when the sham bishop landed, prayed, and gave his benediction to the natives, Bostock, arrayed in a female chemise out of the trade-room, had stood at his right hand and boomed Amens. This, when he was sure he was among good fellows, was his favourite yarn. “Two hundred head of labour for a hatful of Amens,” he used to name the tale; and its sequel, the death of the real bishop, struck him as a circumstance of extraordinary humour.’
It was evident to Mr. Court at once what his commander had come into this bay for, and he was in a greater difficulty than ever. The ship was practically in possession of the natives, all uproariously good humoured, but all, liable to pass at once from riotous pleasantry to mad fury of slaughter. The only comfort he had was that no natives were allowed to invade the cabin. The foc’s’le, the half-deck, was overrun by them, and nearly all the crew had been induced to join them in their curious gambols--all the more curious that the skipper had liberally distributed his fire-water among them. Reuben, at the first descent of native men and women into the foc’s’le, had made his way on deck and into the fore-top, then along the topgallant stay he had climbed to the main-crosstrees, and in similar fashion had reached the mizen-top. Here he determined to camp until morning with some vague idea of watching over the safety of Priscilla, and at the least, descending among the natives if they should prove treacherous (?) and losing his life in her defence. From his lofty perch he looked down upon that ugly scene, and his clean soul revolted at it. But he saw to his intense satisfaction the actors therein gradually sink to slumber, overcome by fatigue, and by midnight the pale moon shone down upon heaps of sleepers in all sorts of varied attitudes, exposing shamefulnesses that the tender dark had hidden. And overwearied at last he slept also.