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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- 2354
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- CHAPTER XIX.
A SURPRISE—MORE ABOUT BEMBO
The sight of the island was right welcome. Going into harbour after a
cruise is always joyous enough, and the sailor is apt to indulge in all
sorts of pleasant anticipations. But to us, the occasion was heightened
by many things peculiar to our situation.
Since steering for the land, our prospects had been much talked over.
By many it was supposed that, should the captain leave the ship, the
crew were no longer bound by her articles. This was the opinion of our
forecastle Cokes; though, probably, it would not have been sanctioned
by the Marine Courts of Law. At any rate, such was the state of both
vessel and crew that, whatever might be the event, a long stay, and
many holidays in Tahiti, were confidently predicted.
Everybody was in high spirits. The sick, who had been improving day by
day since the change in our destination, were on deck, and leaning over
the bulwarks; some all animation, and others silently admiring an
object unrivalled for its stately beauty—Tahiti from the sea.
The quarter-deck, however, furnished a marked contrast to what was
going on at the other end of the ship. The Mowree was there, as usual,
scowling by himself; and Jermin walked to and fro in deep thought,
every now and then looking to windward, or darting into the cabin and
quickly returning.
With all our light sails wooingly spread, we held on our way, until,
with the doctor’s glass, Papeetee, the village metropolis of Tahiti,
came into view. Several ships were descried lying in the harbour, and
among them, one which loomed up black and large; her two rows of teeth
proclaiming a frigate. This was the Reine Blanche, last from the
Marquesas, and carrying at the fore the flag of Rear-Admiral Du Petit
Thouars. Hardly had we made her out, when the booming of her guns came
over the water. She was firing a salute, which afterwards turned out to
be in honour of a treaty; or rather—as far as the natives were
concerned—a forced cession of Tahiti to the French, that morning
concluded.
The cannonading had hardly died away, when Jermin’s voice was heard
giving an order so unexpected that everyone started. “Stand by to haul
back the main-yard!”
“What’s that mean?” shouted the men, “are we not going into port?”
“Tumble after here, and no words!” cried the mate; and in a moment the
main-yard swung round, when, with her jib-boom pointing out to sea, the
Julia lay as quiet as a duck. We all looked blank—what was to come
next?
Presently the steward made his appearance, carrying a mattress, which
he spread out in the stern-sheets of the captain’s boat; two or three
chests, and other things belonging to his master, were similarly
disposed of.
This was enough. A slight hint suffices for a sailor.
Still adhering to his resolution to keep the ship at sea in spite of
everything, the captain, doubtless, intended to set himself ashore,
leaving the vessel, under the mate, to resume her voyage at once; but
after a certain period agreed upon, to touch at the island, and take
him off. All this, of course, could easily be done without approaching
any nearer the land with the Julia than we now were. Invalid whaling
captains often adopt a plan like this; but, in the present instance, it
was wholly unwarranted; and, everything considered, at war with the
commonest principles of prudence and humanity. And, although, on Guy’s
part, this resolution showed more hardihood than he had ever been given
credit for, it, at the same time, argued an unaccountable simplicity,
in supposing that such a crew would, in any way, submit to the outrage.
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