Chapter Fourteen — The Voyage Home

December — June, 1811

At length the Favourite arrived at the island of Bau (one of the Fiji Islands), and anchored off a place called Vuiha, famous for sandalwood, for which the captain soon began to trade with the natives, and, before the ship’s departure, laid in several tons. In the meantime, I went several times on shore, and had opportunities of receiving confirmations of what I had heard from Kau Moala. The natives appeared to be a race considerably inferior to the Tonga people, partaking rather of the negro east of countenance and form, at least in a small degree. As far as I had opportunities of observing, their domestic comforts appeared much inferior to those of the people I had just left. They do not oil themselves, and to this I attribute the coarseness and harshness of skin, which is so different from that of the Tonga people. Their hair was somewhat more curly, and rather disposed to be woolly. Their whole external character, taking it generally, seemed fierce and warlike, rather than brave and noble. Their only dress was the mahi, and this nakedness of appearance serves at once to sink them in a degree of civilization below the natives of Tonga, and the Society Islands. It is to be lamented that I had not opportunities of seeing more of the natives of these islands than I did, with a view of drawing a juster comparison between them and the people whose manners I was so well acquainted with; but the apprehension that some accident might again detain me just on the eve of my return to civilized society, prevented me from going on shore so often, or so far, as I otherwise might have done. I was curious to discover what opinion they had of the natives of Tonga, and found, uniformly, that they considered the latter to be a very treacherous race; while the Tongans, as already related, accuse the Fiji people of possessing the same bad character; but, in all probability, there is not much difference between them in this respect. From all that I have seen, and all that I have heard, however, I am disposed to believe that the Fiji people fight with more fury and animosity than the Tonga people, but that the Tongans, where they have been seriously injured, harbour sentiments of revenge for a longer time. I witnessed no instance of cannibalism among them, but they made no scruple to acknowledge that such instances were very frequent, and Kau Moala’s account of the feast of Sisia where two hundred human bodies were served was confirmed by several of the natives of Bau, who were not, indeed, present, but who spoke of it with much indifference, as having heard it often from those who were present, and as being a thing so likely, that there was no reason to doubt it. I had it also confirmed by a native of Tonga, resident at Bau, who acted as my interpreter, and who was present at this horrible feast.

The feast of Sisia was in honor of the people’s victory over the chiefs of Bau. It was celebrated as a farewell feast, this time in honor of Kau Moala and his companions. The custom was to make it a cannibal feast.

The language of these people is very different in sound from the Tonga language, and is much more harsh to pronounce; it is replete with very strong percussions of the tongue, and with a frequent rattling of the letter, r. It is rather a curious fact, if true, and it appears to be so from all that we can learn, that the language of the Hawaiian islanders is more similar to the Tonga language than that of the Fiji islanders, though the Fiji people are not more than about one ninth part of the distance of the Hawaii Islands from Tonga.

There were several Englishmen (or Americans) at the island of Bau, but none of them wished to come away in the Favourite, except one; but as Captain Fisk had already more hands on board than he wanted, and as this man was not thrown accidentally (by shipwreck or otherwise), among these people, but had left his ship voluntarily, the captain did not choose to take him. It is much to be regretted that most of these men were, from all report, but indifferent characters, and had left their respective ships from no good motive. They had frequent quarrels among themselves, in which two or three had got murdered. My information upon this point is from Fiji natives who visited Tonga, and also, about four months ago, from an Englishman who had lived some two or three years at Bau, and whom I accidentally met near London, and who declared that he was heartily glad to come away, because he was afraid to live on the same island with his companions, lest he should be killed in some quarrel; and, if his report is to be credited, his companions were a very bad set, likely to a great deal of mischief, not only to the natives by giving them but a mean and unjust opinion of civilized nations, but also to ships touching there, who might not be sufficiently on their guard.

This man’s name is Thomas Lee; he lived at that time at Hendon, and was frequently employed in bringing hay to London. He has since left that place, and is somewhere in town, but I have not been able to find him. He was very well acquainted with Kau Moala, the Tongan matapule.

The Favourite, having laid in her store of sandalwood, after five or six days stay at Bau, weighed anchor and resumed her voyage, and, in about five weeks, arrived at Macao. At an early opportunity. I procured the following certificate from Captain Fisk, thinking it might be of service to me, as I was totally unknown to everybody.

“This is to certify, that the bearer, William Mariner, belonged to the unfortunate ship the Port au Prince, that was cut off at the Haapai Islands, and that he was taken from thence by the brig Favourite. Signed A. Fisk. Macao Roads, Dec. 28, 1810.”

I had but little money in my possession, only about fifty or sixty dollars, part of which had been given to me by my adopted mother, Mafi Hape; the remainder I procured from a female native of Lifuka, by giving her a consideration for them in beads, etc., these dollars belonged originally to the Port au Prince. I resolved, therefore at the first opportunity, to enter on board one of the company’s ships bound to England, and work my passage home. It happened, however, luckily, that I fell in with the officers of the Company’s cruiser, the Antelope, who, taking an interest in my story, corroborated by the account of Captain Fisk, invited me on board the Antelope, where, with the permission of Captain Ross, I remained for a couple of months, till an opportunity offered of going to England. I am happy to acknowledge, through this medium, my deepest sense of obligation to this gentleman in particular, and the officers in general of the Antelope, for their extraordinary civility and kindness to me while I remained on board; and not less to Captain Robert Welbank, of the Honorable East India Company’s ship, the Cuffnells, who received me on board with a letter of recommendation from Captain Ross, and gave me passage to England.

The Cuffnells arrived at Gravesend in June 1811, when I went on shore, and immediately came up to town; but, while looking out for my father’s house, who in the meanwhile had changed his residence, I was impressed and sent on board the tender.

In 1811, the year Mariner returned home, the press gangs were particularly active. To man the fleet, the British Navy scoured the coastal towns of England for men and forced them to serve on board His Majesty’s ships. The English also at that time held and searched the ships of the young nation of the United States of America and often seized men from them. These acts contributed to the outbreak of war the next year between Great Britain and the United States — the War of 1812.

I immediately wrote to a friend, to acquaint my father with my arrival and my situation. My father, not less overjoyed than surprised at this unexpected information, repaired on board to visit his son, whom, an hour before, he had imagined (if he was even alive), to be resident among a savage people on the other side of the globe, with little or no view of making his escape. After seven year’s long, hopeless absence, the hour of meeting arrived; the circumstances and sentiments of which I leave to the imagination. I found my father in mourning for my mother. Each of us had much to relate to the other; but this was not the time for free and unreserved communication. While his son was a prisoner, my father had to exert himself to procure my liberation, in which he at length succeeded, after a week’s detention.

Father had heard from William Towel, who had escaped about eighteen months before me, that his son was living, and still at Vavau; but he had represented my situation as rather hazardous and hopeless.

As it may be considered interesting to know the fate of all the ship’s company of the Port au Prince, I shall conclude this chapter with a list of those who, along with me, survived her capture. Besides the eight natives of the Hawaii Islands, there were belonging to the ship fifty-two persons. Twenty-six (including myself), were on board at the time the ship was taken, and, of these twenty-six, there were twenty-two massacred on the spot. Of those who were on shore, three, besides Mr. Brown, the whaling-master, were also murdered, making, in all, twenty-six, who lost their lives on that disastrous occasion. The remaining twenty-six are correctly accounted for in the following list. The eight natives of the Hawaii Islands, probably, had a hint from their countryman, Tuitui, to keep themselves out of harm’s way, which they effectually did. The ensuing statement is drawn up in the order in which the different events happened.

John Scotland, Gunner; Jacob Myers, Seaman; William Ford, Seaman; left Nomuka in a small paddling canoe, and were never afterwards heard of, supposed to have been lost, as a paddle belonging to that canoe was found shortly afterwards, washed on shore at Nomuka Iki.

John Hearsey, Sail maker, left the island of Tonga in an American vessel; but was accidentally drowned at the Fiji Islands, as reported by some Englishmen at Fiji.

Hugh Williams, Seaman; John Parish, and Jeremiah Higgins, Landsmen; escaped from Vavau in an American vessel, nearly two years before I left. The captain of this vessel, whose name is not recollected, refused to take me on board, stating that he had hands enough.

William Towel, Captain’s steward; Robert Fitzgerald, a boy; left Vavau in a Botany Bay vessel, at a time when I was at the Haapai Islands. William Towel is now residing in Cross-street, Westmoreland-place, City-road.

John Watson, Seaman, had gone to the Fiji Islands with a Tonga chief, but I did not hear anything of him there.

Samuel Carlton, Boatswain; George Wood, Carpenter’s mate; William Singleton, Landsman; Alexander Macay, a boy; were at the island of Tongatapu at the time the Favourite arrived at the Haapai Islands, and lost that opportunity of escape. I have since heard that Samuel Carlton came away afterwards in another vessel.

James Waters, Ordinary seaman refused to leave Vavau on account of age and infirmities.

Nicholas Blake, Seaman; William Brown, and Thomas Eversfield, boys; John Roberts, a black native of the island of Tortola, a boy; refused to leave the Haapai Islands under various pretenses.

William Stevenson, a child of two years of age, native of the Hawaii Islands, the son of a Botany Bay convict, resident at Oahu, whence the sail maker had taken him in the Port au Prince, at the request of his father, that he might be brought to his relations in Scotland to be educated. This child was adopted by the daughter of the late King, (the widow of the late Tui Tonga,) and was much noticed. He probably still remains at Vavau, and must now be about twelve years old, being two when he left his father.

Robert Brown, Cooper; Thomas Dawson, Seaman; Thomas Brown, Landsman; Manuel Perez, Seaman; Josef, a black; these came away with me in the Favourite; all but Thomas Brown were under the necessity of remaining in the East Indies. Thomas Brown got employment on board one of the homeward-bound vessels from China, and came to England in the same fleet with me. Thomas Dawson has since been in London.

I regret very much not being able to furnish dates; my only method of keeping time was by cutting certain notches on certain trees (unknown to anyone), but even with such rude memoranda, I was only out in my calculation one day at the time of the Favourite’s arrival.