1912 - Berry, A. Reminiscences of Alexander Berry - CHAPTER VI

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CHAPTER VI.

On the next day I went with two boats to visit Viti Levu; and on reaching the lee side of the island I found that a coral reef prevented my access to the land. We ran along the reef until we saw some natives employed in gather-

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ing something on the dry reef. It being low water we made signs to them to come to speak to us; which they did. We asked them whether there was any passage in the reef by which we could approach the land. They replied that there was a passage further on. I held up something which I would give them if they would come into the boat and show us the passage. One of them immediately dived into the surf and appeared in the smooth water near the boat, and came on board. He was a fine mild-looking young man. He sat down beside me, and became as sociable and chatty as if we had been old friends. By-and-by I saw a gap in the high land. I asked him whether there was not a river at that place? He said "Yes"; that there was a large river and that a large canoe from Tonga had arrived there two or three days before, and that the canoe was manned by about fifty men. They said these men were "fine fat fellows, and would be good eating"; and further that, as we had "plenty of muskets, if we would assist them to kill them we could eat them together." He said also that we could attack them at night when they were asleep. I replied that the Kai Papalagi (white men) only carried muskets to defend themselves, and not to kill

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people, and that the white men did not eat man's flesh. He looked at me with surprise, and said, "Is it true what you say? If it is true, the Kai Papalagi must be great fools, for man's flesh is much better than pork."

At length my man-eating friend conducted the boat through a fine passage in a fine reef-locked harbour, and we landed at a small village. The chief of the village received us in a quiet civil manner. I told him our errand, and asked him if his country produced sandalwood. He replied there was plenty of sandalwood in the mountains. I asked him if he would procure it for us, if we brought the ship into his harbour, and told him we would pay for it in tombooa and iron tools. He replied that he would be glad to do so. And, by way of propitiating him, I made him a present of a tombooa, which he immediately hung at his neck.

Before taking leave of him I requested him to order his people to commence procuring the sandalwood, and that I would return in a few days with the ship. He promised to do so. And in two or three days after the ship arrived in safety at the newly discovered harbour. 1 On

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landing I found that they had only procured about a ton of good sandalwood, for which I paid a higher price than I used to give at Mbau as an encouragement to the natives-- for which I was blamed by the captain. It came in very slowly afterwards, which I attributed to the distance the natives had to bring it. I therefore resolved to visit the mountains, in order to ascertain whether it abounded there; and I requested the chief to give me a guide. This he did, and with the guide there was a band of armed men. I found the path led over a long flat of barren worthless land, with a few bushes on it here and there. Amongst these bushes I found some cotton plants, and, along with others, some plants of yellow nankeen cotton, the ripe pods of which I pocketed. After a time my people began to complain of fatigue. One of them said to the others, whilst he looked at me, "Although Mr. Berry always fatigues himself as much as any of us, I have never heard him complain of being tired." I said nothing, but went on. Soon after we met an old native armed with a club. When he reached us he said something to the guide, but I observed he trembled very much, never having perhaps seen any white men before. Soon afterwards the guide came up

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to me and said, "Turang, come back; I am afraid to go any further." I observed that although we had walked perhaps seven or eight miles, we were not half way to the mountains. I returned to the ship. I now saw that the country was so desolate, and so thinly peopled, that it would be impossible for them to bring me sandalwood in quantity, even if it abounded in the mountains; and I resolved to leave these islands, to return to New Zealand, and to fill up the ship with spars for the Cape of Good Hope.

On reaching the North Cape of New Zealand, I at first intended to enter the harbour of Whangaroa, from the favourable account which Ceronie had given me of that port. As soon as the New Zealanders on board saw my intention, they requested me not to go there, as they had heard that the natives intended to attack the first ship which came into the harbour, on account of the injury which Ceronie had done them by dropping his atua (the watch) into the harbour, which had occasioned the death of so many of the natives.

Although I had heard the same story at the Bay of Islands, I doubted it, and thought that it might have originated from native jealousy.

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I, therefore, still proceeded towards Whangaroa, on which they all began to cry bitterly. Fortunately, the winds became adverse for entering that harbour. After struggling with these winds for a day or two--which were fair for the Bay of Islands--I changed my course and entered that bay.

On again anchoring at Kororarika my old friends were delighted to see me; and Tupe and Tarra promised to give me every assistance in their power for loading the ship with spars. Tupe piloted the ship some miles further to a more convenient place for loading her.

In procuring the spars everything succeeded in a way equal to my most sanguine wishes. The chiefs, assisted by their people, cut down the spars, and barked and squared the larger ones for the sake of stowage, all hands assisting to launch them into the water. They were always regularly paid for their work every Saturday night.

One day when I was on board the ship, the captain of a whaler (accompanied by Tippahee, whom I had not seen since the time when he was my prisoner) came on board. He told me that his object was to get some spars for his ship from Tupe. I asked them into the cabin, and gave them some refreshment. On

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leaving, Tippahee asked me to give him a bottle of porter to drink in the bush, and I did so. I mention this on account of what happened afterwards. I may add that Tippahee could see the defenceless state of the ship at this time, for nearly all of the men were employed in the boats or in the bush.

Some time--perhaps a fortnight--after the above event, I came upon deck early in the morning, for the purpose of making arrangements for visiting the working party in the bush. The sky looked very dark and threatening, and the black clouds seemed to denote a thunderstorm. I therefore deferred my visit until the next day. The squall, or thunderstorm, took place, and the sky cleared up. The people on board consisted of myself, the chief mate (an elderly man), my body-servant (an Indian Portuguese), my little page Taranui, the ship's cook, two blacksmiths (one of whom was a Chinaman), a carpenter (also a Chinaman), and I think two other men.

In the afternoon I observed a large war canoe full of men approaching the ship. I examined and observed that the men were all armed. Directions were at once given that every man on board should be armed with loaded muskets, and I took charge of the big

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guns. One of them was already loaded with ball, and I put into her a bag of shingles. 2 The ship was anchored in a narrow place. On the one side the bank consisted of a steep precipice, and on the other side were some low sandy beaches. The canoe came along the steep bank, and when it came opposite the ship it stopped there for some time. Then the canoe began to approach the ship, and one of the natives on board rose up and was seen giving directions to his men how to board. I succeeded in covering the canoe with the cannon, and the Chinese blacksmith brought me a piece of red hot iron from the forge to fire it with. At this moment the tide must have turned, for the ship swung round and I lost my aim. I could now see that the man who was standing up, directing the men where to board, was my old acquaintance Metatau, whom I had brought from Sydney, and who afterwards had been one of the leaders of the attack upon me at Kororarika. A random musket-shot was now fired. Metatau immediately called out that he was Mata Mata (hit or wounded), and sat down. The canoe took flight, and all the men

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landed on the beach, on the opposite side, and ran into the bush. I have no recollection what I did with the canoe, but I am sure I did not allow it to be destroyed.

Some weeks after this affair, when I came on deck one morning I found Tarra in earnest conversation with some strangers, whom I had never seen before. He came to me and said, "If you want anything which these people have brought, buy it immediately and send them away. I have something to tell you." I took this hint, and sent them away.

Tarra then told me that the natives of Whangaroa had taken a large ship--that they had killed and eaten all the crew, and possessed themselves of all the muskets and gunpowder in the ship--and that they were preparing to come and attack me also. "You," said Tarra, "must cease getting any more timber, and withdraw your people from the bush. Get them all on board, and then leave New Zealand immediately. Until you are able to go, I and Tupe and our men will stay on board to protect the ship."

I expressed my surprise at what Tarra told me, but hoped it might be a false report.

A day or two after I went to the bush, and asked Tupe if he had heard of such a report.

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Tupe said that he had heard the report, but that he did not believe it, and that it went in at one ear and out at the other. I, therefore, continued getting spars until the ship was loaded. In the meantime fresh reports were brought in by the other natives every day, and many were so circumstantial that it appeared impossible for these natives to have invented them. I therefore determined to go to Whangaroa as soon as the ship should be loaded.

Some time before I heard the above report my little page Taranui came to me and said that he wished that I would give him my permission to leave the ship for a week that he might pay a visit to his mother, and that I need not be afraid that he would run away for he liked the ship very much. I told him by all means to go and see his mother. He went, and returned at the end of the week. Some time after his return, while walking the poop, I saw him in earnest conversation with his mother. The purport of their conversation was as follows: His mother entreated him to leave the ship, and go on shore and reside with his own relations. He replied: "I like the ship very much, and prefer it to living ashore." His mother

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replied that it would be more natural for him to live amongst his own relations than amongst strangers. He replied: "I prefer living among the pakeha (white men) to living among the Maoris. The Maoris have so many loutrou about them (pediculi)." His mother replied: "Shame, shame upon you, Taranui, to talk in that way about your own relations." The old woman now opened her clothing, showed him her breasts, and told him that he seemed to have forgotten that she had suckled him. I left the poop and heard no more; making up my mind to leave the lad to take his own course. For some time he continued to wait at table as usual, but I readily perceived that he was now very unsettled, and some time after he left the ship without saying good-bye to any one.

I made inquiry about him long afterwards, and was informed that he went to sea in another ship, and died in the course of the voyage.

As already stated, I resolved to visit Whangaroa after the ship was ready for sea. On the first attempt a gale of wind compelled me to turn back after nearly reaching the harbour; but as the weather moderated. I made a second attempt, and reached the port

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in safety. On this occasion I was accompanied by my friend Metanangha. On arrival I found a large ship lying in shallow water, burnt to the water's edge--and the bones of the crew lying over the beach. By the assistance of Metanangha, 1 succeeded in recovering the few survivors, consisting of a Mrs. Moseley, her female infant, the youngest daughter of Mr. Commissary Broughton (who is still alive and who married Mr. Throsby, of Throsby Park), and a young man named Davidson. Besides saving these persons, I also, strange to say, recovered the duplicates of the bills and other documents which I had left with Mr. Lord for transmission to England; and these proved to be the only documents which reached their destination, all my other papers and documents being lost in my subsequent shipwreck. Thus my enterprise was not a mere quixotic adventure to save distressed damsels from the hands of giants and ogres, but was attended with very beneficial consequences to myself. They also brought me one of the ship's boats, which I handed to Tarra, with a certificate to show how it came into his possession. I also gave Tarra a letter to show to any ship which might arrive, giving an account of the capture of the

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"Boyd"--for that was the name of the vessel--and warning them not to admit too many natives on board.

I recollect one night, when Metanangha was stopping on board, he addressed me to this effect, "You are too venturesome. You walk about New Zealand alone and unarmed, in the way you might do in Europe, and I have often heard the natives say how easy it would be on such occasions to kill you." I certainly was too reckless from over confidence, and felt the truth of his remark.

After the ship was ready we took a final departure from New Zealand, and sailed therefrom (as I think) on the 26th of January, 1810. From what I had heard from some ships I was in great hopes that my cargo of spars would find a good market at the Cape of Good Hope, for they were then much wanted there for the British Navy. But fate had not ordained that they should ever reach the Cape.

The early part of the voyage was favourable, but when we were near Cape Horn, we encountered a fearful storm, which blew our sails to pieces. Some time after a heavy sea struck the stern of the ship, and knocked away the rudder, after which we lay like a hulk

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upon the water at the mercy of the winds and waves. For a fortnight we never saw the sun, and did not know where we had drifted to. We, however, contrived to construct a makeshift rudder, and fastened it with ropes. One afternoon the weather moderated, and we saw that the colour of the water changed --an indication that we were nearing land. About sunset the sky cleared up for a few minutes, and we saw the tops of the mountains of Terra del Fuego, but could not see the shore. About this time we found that the pumps were choked, and that we could not pump the ship. With much difficulty we got the pumps on deck, where we cleaned them and so reshipped them; but it was nearly midnight before we could free the ship from water. At this time we could not see the land. I was so exhausted that I went into my cabin, and threw myself upon my bed to rest myself, when I immediately fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke at the first dawn of the morning, with a kind of deadly pressure on my chest, and could not, at the moment, realize my position. I found, however, that the ship was steady and the water calm. I then looked out of my cabin window and saw some

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birds on a small rock at some distance from the ship. I started to my feet and went on deck, when I found that the ship had drifted during the night, into a bay on the coast of Terra del Fuego, and that we were in the midst of some islands.

The sky was cloudy, but the wind was light; and at midday I was able to take an observation of the sun, when I found that we were about forty miles to the south of the western entrance of the Straits of Magellan. The land between us and these straits is called Desolation Island by Cook. On sounding we found no bottom, but continued advancing all day in hopes of finding some place to anchor the ship. Evening was approaching and we could neither find shelter nor anchorage; at length we found bottom at thirty fathoms; but it was merely a ridge of rock, and after a few casts of the lead we could find no bottom. Almost in a state of despair I went into my cabin to compose myself. There was a book lying on the table, I do not recollect what book it was--perhaps "Johnson's Lives of the Poets." I opened it mechanically, and began to read it It was to this effect; that both Charles I. and his favourite Strafford were addicted to the Sortes

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Virgilianae, and upon one occasion that both of them tried them together, and both of them obtained a true augury--that both of them would be beheaded. But the book said that some other people, instead of consulting Virgil, used to consult the Bible. I said to myself, "I shall consult Virgil, although I have no faith in such auguries"--for drowning men clutch at straws. On opening my book-chest, I could not find Virgil, but I readily found a Bible, and therefore consulted it. The first part of the paragraph I considered too good for me, but it ended by saying: "Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might, for there is neither work nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither thou goest." This I interpreted to denote that my safety must depend upon my own exertions, and that I ought to exert myself and not to despair. I would not have mentioned this, if it had not been for the circumstance that it afterwards procured me the honour of a visit from the Catholic Bishop of Guayaquil.

I returned to the deck quite composed, and soon after, at nightfall, we dropped our anchor in thirty fathoms, close to a barren rocky island. The bottom was rocky, but we

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hoped to be able to weigh it in the morning.

Next day it blew so strong that it was impossible to weigh anchor. A boat was, however, dispatched with an officer to endeavour to discover some sheltered nook where we might anchor the vessel.

The stormy weather continued for several days, rendering it impossible, or dangerous, to attempt to weigh the anchor. After some days the mate returned and informed us that he could find no safe anchorage, and had been unable to return because the weather was so stormy. He had only time to take some refreshment when a sailor came and said, "The ship is adrift." In those days ships had only hempen cables, and the rocks had cut the cables. The mate asked me what he should do with the ship. I replied, "Keep her afloat."

Here was the dismantled ship without rudder or anchors, in the midst of an unknown archipelago of islands in Terra del Fuego, one of the most stormy and dreary countries in the world.

For some days we drifted about at the mercy of the tides and currents; but fortunately the weather proved moderate, and at length we were able to fasten the ship to the

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rocks, although in a rather exposed situation. Hitherto we had seen no signs of natives, but one morning we observed some in several canoes, made of bark. The head man rose in one of the canoes, held up something white, and approached the ship, calling out, "Pickeray! Pickeray!" The canoes were ballasted with some earth on which they had a fire. The poor little shivering natives were clothed with sealskins, fastened to their bodies in the most artless and simple manner. They had no food in their canoes, but some large mussels which were plentiful on the rocks. They struck fire with large lumps of copper pyrites, and when asked where they got it, they pointed to the mountains. I had no chemical tests, but I roasted some of it and afterwards put it in vinegar, which on being applied to the blade of a knife covered it with copper.

The mussels alluded to were very large, but the outsides of the shells were generally corroded, and were full of ill-coloured and ill-shaped pearls.

These natives, after exchanging some pieces of sealskin and other trifles with the sailors, took their leave. The old native women were the dealers, and they had plenty of tongue.

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By-and-bye, I discovered a small, snug, sheltered nook, where there was deep water, close to a perpendicular rock; there being also plenty of trees and a thick bush for about two hundred yards above the high-water mark. The vessel was immediately removed to this shelter; and fortunate it was that we did so remove her, for the same night a fearful gale of wind took place, but we were so perfectly secure that we did not feel a breath of it.

One day I went alone to the top of the mountain. Above the narrow border of trees there was nothing but rock; not a particle of soil, and the rocks everywhere smoothed and polished with the rains. There was neither bird nor insect, nor any sign of animal life. And as far as the eye could reach, the same picture of desolation presented itself.

In our sheltered nook we improved our make-shift rudder, and repaired our sails, and other damages, as far as our means permitted.

I had heard, from some ship in New Zealand, that there had been a revolution in Spain, and that England and Spain were now friends; but this was doubtful, as I had seen no newspaper. I had, however, read Lord Byron's narrative, who describes the kind reception which the Chilians had given to him

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and Captain Cheap after the wreck of the "Wager"--one of Lord Anson's fleet--and I therefore determined, if possible, to take refuge on the coast of Chile.

Fortunately, I had in my possession Frezian's "Voyage to the West Coast of South America" translated by Dr. Halley. He was a French officer of engineers, who had been sent clandestinely by the French Government to survey the Coast of Chile and Peru during the war of succession, and his book contains plans of the principal ports.

When leaving "Preservation Harbour," or rather Nook, we had another visit from the same tribe of Fuegians who had formerly visited us. On getting out of our nook the ship got entangled in a float of the ficus giganteus, and some of the stems got between the rudder and the stern post, and prevented the motion of the ship. We sent a boat to cut them away, and the poor natives came in their canoes to assist us. They had no knives to cut the stems, but they began to bite them across with their teeth.

With some difficulty we got safely out of the bay, and proceeded on our voyage to the northward. It must have been about the time of the autumnal equinox, and we experi-

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enced a succession of storms; the winds being generally from the north-east, with hazy weather. This rendered our voyage very tedious, and the storms repeatedly displaced our make-shift rudder. From such a protracted voyage our provisions began to run short, and I wished to reduce the rations; but all hands opposed it so much that I was obliged to succumb.

Some time after, most of the crew came anD insisted that the ship should be run ashore on the coast of Patagonia, and on my refusal they refused to work any longer, and went below. The officers and a few of the men continued to work as usual, and the mutineers, seeing this, returned to their duty next day.

Some days after this we experienced a heavy gale from the north which displaced our make-shift rudder. At this time the weather was very hazy. Suddenly the wind shifted to the south and cleared away the haze, when we saw a ship (perhaps not more than a quarter of a mile ahead of us) still struggling with the northerly wind. We hoisted the British flag, union down, and fired a gun. She hoisted the Yankee flag, but immediately the southerly wind reached her, she braced round her yards and bore away with-

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out speaking to us. On reaching the port of Valparaiso, some days after, she told the people that they would soon hear of the wreck of an English vessel on the coast, as they had seen one in great distress.

On arriving near Concepcion, I sent a boat ashore to Talcahuano, which brought little provisions; and I went myself to Zome, where I purchased such provisions as the village could supply, and some days after we reached the harbour of Valparaiso.

Here we found the Spanish frigate "Astrea," commanded by Don Joaquin Toledo, a lieutenant in the Spanish navy, which had arrived there from Lima a day or two before. Toledo and his first lieutenant, Eugenio Cortez, immediately came on board, and as we had neither anchor nor cables they lent us what we wanted until we could be provided for from the shore. There was no cable in the place, but they made one for us. If it had not been for the "Astrea," I do not know what we could have done, for Valparaiso is an open roadstead, and, as there was no quay, it was necessary to land on the beach.

Don Joaquin gave us every assistance in his power, and used all his influence with the Government in our behalf. Our rudder was

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provided with new brass pintles. We were, however, directed by the Government to proceed to Lima, under convoy of the "Astrea," as our necessary repairs were effected. And Eugenio Cortez promised to introduce me to Mr. Ferrer, a merchant in Lima, who became my agent.

A day or two after my arrival the Yankee captain addressed me. I asked him why he would not stop and speak to us when we hoisted a signal of distress? "I guess," he said, "that I had been a long time from home, and did not know whether there might not have been war between England and America, in which case, if you had been a man-of-war, you might have taken me." I replied, "You told the Spaniards that we were in such distress that you expected we would be wrecked on the coast. No matter, we have arrived safe without your assistance. But what has just been my case may be your case hereafter, and you may be treated in the way, as a just punishment for your inhumanity." He looked abashed, pulled out his snuff-box, and offered me a pinch, but I declared that I never snuffed.

The Governor of Valparaiso examined me on oath, and the captain and some of the men

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respecting the voyage and destination of our ship. The common people could hardly understand how we could reach the west coast of South America without coming round Cape Horn, and entertained suspicions that we might be a smuggler in disguise. Therefore they examined all our trunks and boxes. They were very much surprised to find that I had such a large collection of books.

When I first arrived at New South Wales the colony was on the eve of a revolution from the tyranny of Bligh, and the same was the case in Chile; it did not, however, take place until some time after we left for Lima. But the President of Chile sent to Lima, in the "Astrea," some of the heads of the impending revolution--the President of Chile being subordinate to the Viceroy of Peru. Don Joaquin Toledo received orders from the President of Chile to convey us safely to Lima; but as he knew there was no chance of our attempting to escape, although we weighed anchor and made sail at the same time, the next morning he was not in sight, and he reached Lima several days before us.

On our way to Lima we spoke an English whaling vessel on the coast; and I purchased a bale of slops for my people. A Mr. Moore,

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the chief mate, came on board of the "City of Edinburgh," and delivered them. He, long after, commanded a vessel called the "Woodlark," in the employment of Jones and Walker. He was the father of Mr. Henry Moore, the agent for the P. and O. Steam Company.

Mr. Cortez on his arrival at Lima immediately called on his friend Don Joaquin Maria de Ferrer, who, on our arrival at Callao, came on board next day and agreed to act as my agent and protector.

A petition was sent to the Viceroy, giving a detail of the voyage, and requesting him to allow the cargo to be discharged and sold to enable me to repair the ship. This the Viceroy very generously granted; but, unfortunately, there was very little demand for spars in Lima, and they proved unsaleable. But Mr. Ferrer liberally supplied me with money to enable me to have the ship repaired.

A second petition was then sent to the Viceroy requesting him to allow the ship to take a cargo from Lima to Cadiz, which Mr. Ferrer agreed to furnish. To this also the Viceroy agreed. But, unfortunately, a person of the name of Verduga (who had built a large ship) opposed it, as it would be contrary

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not only to Spanish law, but contrary to his interest. This gentleman was a member of the municipality of Lima, and all the members joined him in opposing me. Besides this, there was a revolution in Chile, and a rebellion in Upper Peru, and the Viceroy did not like to oppose the municipality. But after many months he acceded to my wishes, during which time the expenses of the vessel were absolutely "eating her up." On arriving at Callao, Mrs. Moseley and her child left the ship. As she was a Roman Catholic, some charitable person received her into his house; but she died there some months after. A few days subsequent to my arrival at Callao, as I saw that Betsy Broughton was ill cared for, I asked Mr. Ferrer whether he would get some decent person to take care of her. He said that he would look out. Two or three days after he came down in his calesa and requested me to go to Lima with him, and the little girl, as he had got a proper person to take care of her. He took me to a highly respectable house and introduced me to a charming Spanish lady, who said that she would be most happy to take charge of her. On leaving the house I told Mr. Ferrer that my object in speaking to him was that he

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might get some decent person to take charge of the child for hire. He replied, "Never mind." He said the ladies in Lima were generally rather bad, but that the lady to whom he had introduced me was an exception; that she was the wife of Don Gaspar Rico, the manager of a large Madrid company, and having no children of her own was delighted with the idea of taking care of the little girl. "But," said he, "you must visit her every day when you go to Lima, as otherwise the little girl will forget you altogether." After a little time, Mr. and Mrs. Rico became so fond of the little girl that Mr. Rico made me many overtures to leave the child with them. But I considered it my duty, if possible, to restore her to her father. The girl herself would have been much pleased to have been left with her handsome mamma; and I was told by a lady in Sydney that she wished I had left her in Lima, and that for that reason she never once paid me a visit when she came to Sydney. It would have been a sad thing if I had left her in Lima, for Don Gaspar Rico died of hunger in the castle of Callao. Rico belonged to the Loyalist party, which at length took refuge in the castle, where they were regularly starved out. A rat was there

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sold for an ounce of gold! I do not know, however, whether Mrs. Rico was along with him.

Some time after my arrival at Callao, a vessel called the "Archduke Charles" arrived with a licensed cargo for Lima. On her departure I sent to the owner of the ship "Boyd" the log book of that illfated vessel, and also a short account of her capture by the natives of New Zealand, and how I rescued the survivors. Constable (the Edinburgh publisher and bookseller), and Brown, the owner of the "Boyd," were married to two sisters; and Brown gave my letter to Constable, who published it in his magazine. I also sent my agent in London the "seconds" of the bills which I received from Simeon Lord, and which I had recovered from the Maoris; and I likewise sent the duplicates of the paper respecting my claim on the Government on account of my Norfolk Island voyage, which reached their destination in safety, but years after they ought to have reached London.

Having at last received permission to take a cargo to Cadiz, consisting of copper and tin for ballast, Peruvian bark, and some cacao,

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the ship was dispatched to Guayaquil to complete her cargo by filling up with cacao.

Mr. Toledo and Mr. Cortez went with me as passengers to Cadiz. Having completed our cargo at Guayaquil we made sail for Cadiz.

In working out of the bay of Guayaquil the vessel got ashore on the banks of Payana, and I was obliged to return to Guayaquil to discharge this cargo and repair the damage, when it was necessary to heave the vessel down.

We made sail a second time, and reached Rio Janeiro in safety. After leaving Rio we experienced a succession of storms, in consequence of which the ship again began to leak; and when we were near the Azores Islands she became waterlogged, and began to leak by the head, and we were obliged to hoist out the long boat and abandon her.

As the weather was so stormy, and the ship rolled so much, the long boat was so much damaged by striking against the ship's side that it became necessary to lighten her by throwing out everything she contained, except a little biscuit and water. In this confusion my box of papers was thrown overboard also, so that I did not save a slip of

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paper or any document of my long and disastrous voyage--among other things the "thirds" of Lord's bills, and duplicates of the papers respecting the claim on the Government for the Norfolk Island freight.