Wreck Of The Wild Wave 1858 - Shipwrecked on Pitcairn Island's Oeno



Pitcairn's Oeno Island


Captain Knowles had been in command of the medium clipper Wild Wave for four years, engaged in miscellaneous trade. On this voyage in question, the Wild Wave sailed on February 9, 1858, from San Francisco USA for Valparaiso Chile.

Sadly for the Captain and their crew, they had no idea that they would be taking a detour to the worlds very isolated Pitcairn Islands. Our story begins at around one o’clock in the morning on March 5, when the ship was going through the water at the rate of thirteen knots. Out of nowhere the lookout cried, ‘Breakers,’ and at the same moment the Wild Wave was on top of a coral reef. A terrific surf broke over both reef and ship; all three masts went over the side, and sheets of copper, torn from the bottom of the vessel by the coral, were picked up by the breakers and hurled across the deck. What with falling masts and spars, tangled rigging, swinging blocks and dead-eyes, flying sheets of copper and waves breaking clear across the deck, it is a miracle that everyone on board was not killed.

At daybreak Captain Knowles discovered that what he had struck was a circular reef that lay about two miles off the uninhabited island of Oeno and completely surrounded it. The island, as figured in the chart, was twenty miles out of its true position – a mistake which was responsible for the wreck. The island itself is a low strip of sand, half a mile in circumference and covered with meager shrubs.

All day long the crew boated provisions ashore through the surf, wondering with every trip whether the ship would hold together for another one. They pitched two big tents on the beach, one for the officers and passengers, one for the crew. Luckily there was plenty of water on the island, as well as sea-birds’ eggs – for what they might be worth – and there were prospects of good fishing. The steward cooked supper, and all hands turned in, though with little prospect of sleep because of thousands of land crabs that lay hidden in conch shells and coconut husks and bit deep with claws like a lobster’s. There were rats on the island, too, from an earlier wreck, the remains of which were still visible. In the morning Captain Knowles called his mate, Mr. J. H. Bartlett, for a consultation, the upshot of which was that the two men should sail in one of their boats to Pitcairn Island, twenty miles (actually 76 miles) south, on the chance of getting some sort of craft there from the descendants of the mutineers of HMS Bounty. A boat was made ready for the trip, but for the next four or five days it blew a gale, kicking up a surf that completely buried the hull of the Wild Wave and of course made it impossible either to start for Pitcairn or to get any more supplies from the ship.

Finally, after a week of waiting, the surf flattened out, and the Captain started. “I cannot divert my mind,” he writes in his diary, “from the one subject – home and friends.” Bartlett and five men went with him; they left the second mate in charge at Oeno with orders to proceed to Pitcairn with the rest of the ship’s company if the Captain was not back in a month. He also took several sea-birds from their nests, on the chance that they could be used as carrier pigeons to take messages between the two parties. As the little boat pushed off, the rest of the company gave three cheers. Before finally laying his course for Pitcairn, however, the Captain stopped at the wreck to pick up $18,000 in gold, an item that had been worrying him ever since the ship struck.

On the first night came a return of the bad weather, with thunder, lightning, and a high sea that made the boat dance about so wildly that it was impossible to read the compass. They shortened sail and the next morning found that, as nearly as they could figure, they were ten miles farther from Pitcairn than when they had started, and it was blowing so hard that for most of that day they could not carry any sail. However, what with rowing until they were ready to drop, and long after Captain Knowles’s hands were raw from the unaccustomed labor, and now and then setting a patch of sail, they raised Pitcairn at dusk. But they were on the wrong side of the island, where the surf ran so high that no boat could land. They lay on their oars all night and in the morning found a spot where it was possible to run through the surf.

Once on the beach, they found that a thickly wooded mountain separated them from the settlement. They made their way over it only to discover, when they reached the other side, that all the inhabitants had left, having migrated in a body to Norfolk Island. The houses stood empty, with live stock and chickens running freely in and out.

Knowles and his party returned over the mountain to the boat and there, after letting the birds go with messages to Oeno, had their first sleep for fifty-six hours, Captain Knowles and Bartlett each with half the gold buried in the sand under his head.The next morning the surf was too high for them to sail round the island to Bounty Bay, where the houses were; they therefore took the tedious overland route again. Once arrived, however, they made themselves comfortable enough, cleaning out a house, broiling chicken, catching a goat, and in every way taking a new lease on life. But their boat, left on the far side of the island, was smashed to pieces by an unusually high surf which reached it even in what they had supposed its safe position well up on the beach.

The Captain and Bartlett brought the gold to ‘town’ and buried it under a flat rock on the shore. With it they brought a compass and a chronometer, still undamaged, and they began to consider what their next move should be. Whatever they did could not be done in a hurry. Tahiti, which they had had some idea of trying to reach in their boat, lay fifteen hundred miles northwest, and all that remained of the boat was a mast and sail. The rain began and continued.

Captain Knowles passed the time reading Jane Eyre, which he picked up in one of the houses, hunting goats, and worrying about his young wife in Brewster, Massachusetts. They kept, of course, a constant lookout for ships the while. ‘Nineteen goat meals this week,’ he reports on March 24; and on March 28, still in the midst of rain, he writes, ‘Read, walked and thought of home.'

The Attempt

Captain Josiah N. Knowles

Before the month was up after which the second mate was to join them at Pitcairn, Captain Knowles had reached his decision: he would build a vessel and sail to Tahiti. A miscellaneous assortment of old tools had been left in the settlement; trees for timbers and planking were at hand.

On April 5, one month after the wreck, the party began to cut them down and hew out a keel and a stem, using rusty axes from the abandoned houses. For the first two weeks the Captain suffered severely from blistered hands; after that, they hardened up nicely. The chief trouble was the rain. ‘What a host of troubles that blunder of sombody’s had made for me,’ writes Knowles, thinking of the hydrographer who had drawn the chart.

April 20 came and went, with no sign of the second mate. Work on the vessel progressed between showers; but a constant cloud over the Captain’s spirits was the thought how his wife would worry when no word of the arrival of the Wild Wave at Valparaiso reached home.

On April 28 they killed a wild hog and salted the pork with sea salt.

On the 29th they finished hewing planks for the vessel and stood them up against the church to dry. They made sails from such pieces of canvas and stray rags as they could find, and began picking oakum from old rope. ‘I didn’t think I should ever get down to that again,’ writes the Captain, ‘but so it was.’ They burned houses for nails and collected scraps of metal for fastenings – the scarcity of which was their chief concern.

On May 26 the captain writes: ‘My 28th birthday.... My friends think I’m lost.’ They made a charcoal pit and burned charcoal for fuel for the voyage, began work on a rope walk, and always, when it rained, picked oakum in the church, living the while on goat’s meat, coconut milk, and chickens.

By June 3 the hull was finished, a schooner thirty feet long, eight feet wide, and four feet deep. The next job was caulking her, and by the time this was finished, it was found that the green wood had shrunk so much that she had to be calked all over again. While some were busy at this, others were shaping spars, using the flagpole for one of the masts; then they painted her, with paint left in the houses, salted a quantity of goat’s meat for the voyage, made some old barrels into water casks, wrote letters to leave behind them, and on July 23 launched the vessel. They provisioned her, in addition to their salted pork and goat’s meat, with twelve hundred oranges, made an ensign out of such rags as had not gone into the sails, and christened her the John Adams, after one of the former inhabitants of the island. The Captain and Bartlett dug up their gold from under the flat rock, and, bidding farewell to three of their company, who preferred to take their chances on the island, hoisted sail for the Marquesas, as the wind was dead ahead for Tahiti. The John Adams developed a peculiar and uneasy motion at sea, which promptly made all hands sick; but she was staunch and able, and in time the sickness wore off.

On July 25 she was bobbing along nicely through a heavy sea; on the 26th it was calm enough to bring the stove on deck. During the next week the schooner logged anywhere from 100 to 124 miles a day, and on August 3 looked in at Resolution By in the island of Ohitahoo, one of the Marrquesas, but the natives appeared so hostile that the Captain decided to try Ohevahoa instead. A flat calm prevented them, however, and they headed for Nukahiva, which they sighted the next day, August 4. They had decided, if there was no prospect of a vessel there, to continue their voyage to the Hawaiian Islands, but as they rounded the headland into the harbor of Nukahiva, they sighted the American sloop-of-war Vandalia lying at anchor, the only vessel in port. Captain Knowles headed for her and hoisted his ensign. Their tale was soon told. The Vandalia promptly headed for Oeno to pick up those of the company of the Wild Wave that had stayed there and Mr. Bartlett went with her, subsequently joining her as an officer.

Captain Knowles, after selling the John Adams to a missionary for $250, went along too as far as Tahiti, whence he took passage for Honolulu on the French sloop-of-war Euridice and made the rest of the voyage to San Francisco on the bark Yankee, arriving on September 29 – seven months after he had left there in the Wild Wave. He met many friends in port, who had thought him dead, and was interested to hear that he had become the father of a girl already seven months old.

On October 6 he left for New York on the S.S. Golden Gate and in due time joined his family in Brewster.

Years afterwards, when settled in San Francisco, the Governor of Pitcairn island always visited Captain Knowles whenever he came there. After leaving the sea, Captain Knowles engaged in business in San Francisco, where he died, June 10, 1896.

Talk about one hell of a story. I would have loved to have sat down and interviewed Captain Knowles and his crew. Those were days of true adventure and legends were truly made. The closest we will ever have to an interview is Captain Knowles personal diary. It truly gives a vivid account of what life was like during this troubling period for him and his mates.


The Diary of Capt. Josiah N. Knowles

On Tuesday. February 9th, 1858, I sailed from San Francisco in the ship WILD WAVE, a fine clipper Of 1500 tons, with a crew of thirty all told, and ten passengers. It was a beautiful morning and the wind fair from the Golden Gate - an event quite unusual. We were accompanied outside by a number of friends, who, on leaving, wished us God speed and a pleasant voyage. Nothing of note transpired during the day, and the same may be said of several days succeeding.

On Wednesday, the 17th, at dark, the ship going at the rate of twelve knots per hour, we were startled by the cry, "Man overboard". Owing to our great speed we were unable to get the ship around in time to save the man, though we saw him several times when struggling in the water. From this date until March 5th our voyage was not at all eventful. On the above mentioned date at 1 A.M., the ship at the time going at the rate of thirteen knots per hour, to our great astonishment and alarm, the lookout reported "breakers under the lee". So close was our proximity to the rocks. and so great our speed, that it was impossible to avoid running upon them, and in less than five minutes the good ship was on a coral reef, full of water, and the sea breaking all over her. Our first thought was to save ourselves and our provisions; though it seemed at times as though to do other were impossible. Our masts were snapping and cracking at a fearful rate, and the copper from the bottom of the ship flying off in whole sheets and falling on deck with a great crash. Our situation was truly one of great peril, we being in great danger of serious injury from falling spars and sheets of flying copper. The excitement among the passengers and crew was intense. They came rushing to me, seeming to think that I could save or assist them at once. It being very dark we were unable to determine whether we were near land or on a lone rock, but at daybreak we discovered that we were on the coral reef of Oeno Island, a low strip of sand about half a mile in circumference, covered with a scanty growth Of shrubbery and surrounded, at a distance of about two miles, by coral reefs. We first set about devising means for landing, the sea having gone down and the ship having worked higher up on the reef. Our first fear was that the island was inhabited by cannibals, as were many of the neighboring islands, but upon close inspection we found that our source Of alarm, was groundless. I sent my first officer, Mr. Bartlett, ashore with five men, having a shovel with which to dig in search of water, that being our first care, as we wished to save all that was on board the ship.

In a short time Mr. B. returned. having found water, which though brackish, was drinkable, but no signs of inhabitants. We immediately set about securing our provisions, fearing the ship might break up, in which case we should lose all. Occupied all day boating provisions ashore, though at great risk of swamping our boat in the heavy surf. Took ashore sails with which to make tents, having part of the crew at work building them. By sunset, all were landed, and nearly all our stores. I left the ship in the last boat, the surf at the time being very high and rising. Soon after leaving, a heavy roller caught us, and, receding, left us on a coral reef, staving a hole in the boat. Fortunately, the coral broke off and remained in the side of the boat, keeping the water out, which would otherwise have filled the boat. We finally landed and found two tents had been built - one for the officers and passengers, the other for the sailors. My feelings, as I looked off to the ship, were of the saddest character. There lay my fine ship of yesterday, now a useless wreck. Cast away upon a desolate island, my only chance of rescue being in the possibility of attracting the attention of some passing vessel, or taking to the boats in the attempt to reach some inhabited land. I will not attempt to describe to you my feelings as I thought of home and friends, for words would fail me to express what I felt when thinking of the long months of painful suspense that my friends must suffer unless tidings of us reached home. The steward in the meantime had been busy and soon placed supper before us. It was truly a cheerless meal. I passed the night in sleepless anxiety as to our probable fate, while the continual roar of the surf seemed to remind me constantly of our utter desolation. Our beds were laid on boxes and barrels from the ship, but had any of been disposed to sleep, the rigorous attacks of the land crabs and rats would have prevented it. You may think it very strange that I found rats on this desert island. On landing I saw some spars and other wrecked stuff, and concluded that at some previous time some other ship had met the fate of ours, and as far as we knew, the rats were sole survivors. It was Providential that the ship struck where she did, on the smoothest part of the reef. Had it been at another point I fear these details would never have been written. On the morning of the next day the ship lay as on the day before, though we feared she would break up. I took a walk around the island and found it a dreary waste Of sand, with hardly enough vegetation to deserve the name. Found plenty of water, sea birds' eggs and fish. We were, therefore, in no danger of starvation, with these and our provisions from the ship. The sea birds seemed to regard us as intruders and would attack us as we attempted to take their eggs away. I sent the boats to the ship to bring off more provisions and our live stock, consisting Of sheep, pigs and fowls, which were turned loose, as they would always be within reach. I took observations today and found that this island is twenty miles out of the way, as laid down on my chart. After consultation with Mr. B. my first officer, as to the chances of our being taken Off, I finally concluded to make my way to Pitcairn's Island? lying about one hundred miles south. This would double our chances of being rescued, as I thought, knowing that whalers often touched there for supplies. We immediately set about rigging a boat in which to start off as soon as the surf would enable us to cross the reef.

Sunday, March 7th. Blowing hard from the North, with much rain, thunder and lightning. Everything seemed combined to make us miserable both in body and mind. The men busied themselves today in laying out a vegetable garden, but I regarded it as labor thrown away.

Monday, March, 8th. Weather like that of yesterday, though we had more rain and were obliged to remain in the tents nearly all day. Could not reach the ship on account of the heavy surf. Finished work on our boat and were all ready to start for Pitcairn's Island. Caught and cooked a number of birds, making a very palatable stew for all hands. The sailors had been very quiet and orderly, much to my gratification.

Tuesday, March, 9th. Blustering day, with rain, thunder and lightning. Sea higher than ever, at times completely burying the ship, which is truly a forlorn looking object. Her spars nearly all gone; sails hanging in tatters from those that remain. I feared she would go to pieces, but to my great joy and surprise she held together. I had many things on board to remove, and I could only hope she would hold till they were landed. I could get but little sleep owing to the attacks of the land crabs. These torments crawl around in a large conch shell, and often in a cocoanut shell, to which they retreat on being molested. At night they crawl under us, and if we attempt to dislodge them they will bite deep into the flesh, having claws or nippers like those of a lobster. During this day caught lots of fish and several pearl oysters, one of which will make a meal for a number of persons.

Wednesday, March 10th. Another day of storms and heavy sea. The ship remained as yesterday. I began to be very impatient to get away and hoped that the next day would afford an opportunity. Everything wet through.

Thursday, March, 11th. A pleasant day, but, sad to say, a tremendous surf. We were obliged to stay ashore all day, but had the satisfaction of drying our clothing. I should say that today we pulled around the island in search of an opening in the reef, but found none except near the ship, where we came in. Truly this life is dreary. I cannot divert my mind from the one subject - home and friends. Nothing whatever relieves the monotony of the scene.

Friday, March, 12th. Could not reach the ship or start off. Dreary and desolate as ever and nothing important to record.

Saturday, March 13th. A pleasant day, but hot. Not much surf on. In the morning I mustered all hands on the beach and I selected my boat's crew. consisting of my mate and five men. At noon, having on board all our provisions, we set out for Pitcairn's Island, previously leaving instructions with my second officer, whom I left in charge, to join me there in four weeks if I did not return. I took several setting seabirds from their nests, intending to use them, on my arrival at Pitcairn's Island, as bearers of dispatches to my men left behind on Oeno Island. I knew that immediately on being set free they would seek their nests. My intention was to attach to their necks, pieces of leather with any instructions that I thought proper written on them. As we left the beach they gave us three cheers. The steward and a boats crew accompanied us to the ship, where I had upwards of $18,000 in gold, which I took on board my boat, and at twelve started from the ship, watching a favorable opportunity to cross the reef in smooth water. We went out in good shape and at once made sail on our frail craft and headed for Pitcairn's Island. A good breeze soon took us out of sight of Oeno. We now began to realize the utter helplessness Of our situation. Cut on the broad ocean, no land to be seen, and in an open boat - our situation was even more desolate than when on the island. Night soon overtook us, and with it came rain, thunder and lightning. The wind rapidly increased, and the sea, having risen a good deal, at times nearly filled our boat - obliging us to keep hard at work bailing. We were finally obliged to reduce sail. By the light of a lantern we endeavored to steer by our compass, but the motion Of the boat was so great that it was quite impossible to tell whether we steered right or wrong. At daybreak the weather modulated and the sea went down a good deal. We finally got sight of Pitcairn's Island, distant thirty miles. The sight of the island inspired us with hope, though it was a very uninviting looking shore. At 10 A.M. the wind increased to a gale, and, blowing off shore, obliged us to take in sail and pull. We were fifteen miles from the island and the longer we pulled the further the land seemed from us. At times the men gave up in despair, and it was only by the most vigorous effort on my part and that Of Mr. B. that they could be induced to renew their exertions. About 6 P.M. we reached a sheltered place under the lee or the island, each one of us being completely used up, having pulled eight hours without cessation. We could find no landing-place and were obliged to lie on our oars for the night. Part of us were permitted to lie down and rest, leaving two to look after the boat. Having myself done but little manual labor for many years, my hands were in such a condition that blood ran from my fingers' ends.

Monday, March,15th. Rowed round the island but could not get in at Bounty Bay, the proper landing place. We finally effected a landing and removed our stores, etc., Hauled our boat up as high as possible and started for the settlement over the mountain. This was a laborious tramp, we being obliged to crawl on all fours up the almost perpendicular heights, but finally reached the houses. To our great astonishment we learned that the former residents had all left for Norfolk Island. Notices to that effect were posted in many of the houses. Thus we were again on an uninhabited island, but our situation here was infinitely preferable to that of Oeno. We found fruit in great abundance, such as oranges, bananas, cocoanuts, etc. Also a good deal of live stock - sheep, goats, bullocks and chickens . The latter in abundance. We returned to the boat after a long and weary tramp, took our supper, consisting of preserved meat, crackers, etc. Having had no rest for fifty-six hours we laid down to sleep, Mr. Bartlett and I each having under our heads a box of gold coin. Mr. B. and I were covered by my oil-skin coat. and though it rained all night in torrents, and streams of water flowed over and under us, still we slept soundly till morning. During the night I dreamed of being restored to home and friends, and on waking could hardly realize that it was only a dream, so vividly had all the home scenes been presented to my mind. I should have stated that on our arrival off the island we let go the birds which we brought from Oeno. They first flew high into the air, then into the water, but soon rose again, and after describing a few circles in the air sped away toward their distant home. Truly it was a strange and wonderful instinct that taught them which way to go, as they had been in a box ever since we left Oeno and had not seen daylight even.

Tuesday, 16th. A pleasant day, but so heavy surf that we were unable to get our boat around to Bounty Bay. I expected she would be stove where she was, but we hauled her up as high as possible on the rocks, and could only trust to fortune for her safety. I laid on the beach nearly all day my men being in the mountains in search of fruit- I felt very lame and stiff, and could hardly walk, but my mental trouble was much greater than my physical. Our living consisted mostly of fruit, though we had some bread and preserved meats. We were obliged to carry all our stores from the boat over the mountain to our house, and with much hard labor. We kept on hoping that the surf would go down and enable us to land all our stores at the bay. Slept on the rocks, and used our boat sail for a shelter.

Wednesday, 17th. Raining. Put all our things in the boat and made ready to pull around to Bounty Bay; but after all our labor, we had to land them again, owing, as usual, to a heavy surf. Hauled the boat as high as possible, and started for "town", as we called it. cleared out a house to live in and looked about for cooking utensils. Caught several chickens by running them down, and, having found an old pot, made a good stew. This was our first hot meal since leaving Oeno. Mr. B. and one man went off to the boat this morning - Mr. B. to sleep on my gold. I remained at the house with the men. These houses have berths like those of a ship, which are filled with dried leaves, making a rough bed, but more comfortable than bare rocks. My feelings today are anything but pleasant. Had to spend the evening in darkness, having no lights. It was gloomy and dreary enough.

Thursday, 18th. Clear and pleasant. Sent the men on to assist Mr. B. Stayed at home and made a stew. Our cooking apparatus was very rude and inconvenient. Our kettle hung upon two forked sticks, with the fire blazing under it. Mr. B remained by the boat all day. In the afternoon she was stove by the surf but we hope to patch her up. Kept a sharp lookout as usual, and with the usual result - not a sail to be seen. Gathered up many useful things among the houses - knives, forks, etc. Broiled chicken for supper. Our gridiron is a sharp stick, on which a fowl is placed and held over coals.

Friday, March l9th. Clear and pleasant. All hands went over to the boat. Mr. B. caught a goat. All took a load from the boat, but very little at a load, as our road is nearly all the way about perpendicular. Brought over the gold among other things. I had frequent occasion to regret that our steward was not with us to look after our food- None of us are good cooks and we get along as we can without any high living or extra good cooking. Tired out at night and glad to go to bed.

Saturday, 20th. Clear and warm. Mr. B. took all the men out to set up a signal staff, and, taking advantage of their absence, I took the gold and buried it under a flat rock on the beach. Mr. B. went to the boat in the afternoon and brought back my chronometer and compass. Occupied the time in clearing up and looking over my wardrobe. Went hunting and saw cattle, but too shy to get near to. Sat outdoors in the evening in conversation with Mr. B., regarding our future movements and home matters. That word "home" is a great source of anxiety to me.

Sunday, 21st. Washed clothes in the forenoon. During the day. we f round squashes and pumpkins. We seem to be blessed with an abundance of vegetable food of the best kind. Looking for sail today, but in vain.

Monday, 22nd. Cut down trees in front of our house to get an unobstructed view of the sea Attempted to shoot goats with my pistol but was unsuccessful, to my regret, as goats are hard to catch by running down. Found a terrapin today. This relieved in some measure the monotony of our living. Found a lot of axes today and a gun barrel. which we rigged up as well as possible under the circumstances; but it always took two men to fire the gun. Having no lock, one of us held the gun while another touched it off with a match. Our stock of these indispensables was now very low, obliging us to use flint, steel and tinder in making our fires.

Tuesday, 23rd. I went hunting today, and was gone all day, with fair success. Every day of this strange life seemed longer to me, and I earnestly hoped with each day that it might be the last of my stay on this lonely island. Had I not been in almost daily expectation of relief I should long since have started for Tahiti. lying fifteen hundred miles Northwest from here.

Wednesday, 24th. Rained hard, and on such days it was only with difficulty that we could get about, owing to the clayey nature of the soil Mr. B. and I went to our landing-place, intending to repair the boat, but to our surprise she had been stove, and not a vestige of her was in sight. We had determined to leave the island in her, but this put a damper on our plans in that direction. We were left only one chance - to attract the attention of a passing vessel. Our prospect of getting home remained as gloomy as ever, and thoughts of the great anxiety of friends at home was the source of great sadness to me.

Thursday, 25th. Rain kept us at home and enabled us to wash our clothes, which were getting ragged. This sort of life used them up fast. Found a lot of books, including "Jane Eyre" which I read today. During the afternoon found an aged porker. He must have been the grandfather of all the hogs that ever lived on this island. I fired at him, with the usual result - hog vanished speedily, unharmed.

Friday, 26th. Gathered several useful things today from some of the houses; among them some tools and canvas. Mr. B. went over to the wreck of our boat with two men and brought back the oars, sail and mast. It is three weeks ago today since we were wrecked on Oeno Island, and it has been to me the longest three weeks of my life.

Saturday, 27th. Generally employed. Our bill of fare was goat, goat, goat, which we bad eaten nineteen times during the week, the monotony being varied only by chicken and fruit. Expected the second mate today. Made a hen house of a dwelling and at night caught several chickens as they roosted on trees near our house.

Sunday, 28th. Read, walked and thought of home.

Monday, 29th. I thought today of building a small vessel and looked about for suitable timber. Found some that would answer my purpose.

Tuesday, 30th. Went up the mountain today as usual, on the lookout, but with no success. In the afternoon built an oven, so that we might roast some meat. By digging a hole in the ground and lining it with stones, and kindling a fire, we have a first-rate hot oven. Some of the men today made a sugar-press.

Wednesday, 31st. I dreamed of home last night and my feelings today are far from cheerful. I could only hope that my dreams might some time be fulfilled, but it seemed as though I could not have patience to wait.

Thursday, April lst. We decided today to build a boat and sail for Tahiti, as we almost despaired of ever being found here. Some of our party thought the idea was a foolish one and seemed reluctant to set at work, but finally the counsels of myself and Mr. B. prevailed, and all were agreed.

Friday, April 2nd. Spent the day collecting our tools and other articles useful to us in boat building. Our stock of tools was fortunately large. Six axes, two hatchets, three planes, two chisels, a hammer, and a spike gimlet - enough to build such a vessel as we wanted, provided we had plenty of suitable wood.

Saturday, April 3rd. Found a gun-lock, to our great gratification. We hoped to be able to shoot some cattle now that our arms were in tolerably good order. The principal thing was to get near enough, which we had thus far been unable to do.

Monday, April 5th. Took an early breakfast. Left one man to cook, another to hunt and the remainder started for the woods to hew timber for our boat. Cut out a keel, stern and stem post and some timbers.

Tuesday, April 6th. On the lookout in the morning with the usual result. All worked on the boat today, but my hands were so blistered that I could hardly hold my axe.

Thursday, April 8th. Finished cutting timber today and begun hewing planks out of logs. Very tedious and hard work. Late in the day hauled the timber to the beach. Finished getting out our materials excepting the planking.

Saturday, April 10th. Four weeks today since I left the ship. I expected my second mate every day, and was very anxious to have him come, as I wanted his boat to leave this lonely place.

Sunday, April 11th. Literally a day of rest after a week of hard, wearing toil. Spent nearly all day reading.

Monday, April 12th. One man sick today. All the rest hard at work.

Tuesday, April 13th. One man sick, one cooking and one hunting. Our force was small and accomplished less than usual. I could do but little and got very tired. Was glad to lie down and rest.

Wednesday, April 14th. Had a smart shower last night. The air today was very cool, enabling us to work very comfortably

Friday, April 16th. Cloudy and frequent showers, but all hands at work. My hands have hardened to the work day by day and I am now able to swing my axe for hours without inconvenience or pain.

Saturday, April 17th. Washed clothes as usual and worked on the boat. At 5 P.M. finished a very hard week's work.

Sunday, April l8th. Took an observation today, found that Oeno Island is incorrectly laid down on the chart. What a host of troubles that blunder Of somebody's had made for me nobody will ever know.

Tuesday, April 20th. Had a most familiar dream last night. As usual, it carried me home and among friends. On the lookout for sails today. It seemed as though navigators shunned this locality as men would a pestilence.

Wednesday, April 21st. Severe attack of blues today as usual, after dreaming Of home. In the afternoon, owing to the heavy rain, we were forced to stop work. Spent the remainder or the day at home variously employed.

Thursday, April 22nd. This day we experienced very chilly and cold weather, The most so of any since our arrival. Having taken cold, I was nearly used up by a severe rheumatic attack.

Friday, April 23rd. Seventy-five days since I sailed from San Francisco. Folks at home by this time, I feared, getting anxious not hearing of my arrival in Valparaiso.

Saturday, April 24th. Two of us planing and three hewing plank for our boat. Our clothing all but used up. We have patched and darned to the last, but it seems that we must soon take to goat skins, after the style of Robinson Crusoe. Our shoes long since gave out. We have been barefooted for a long time. We accomplished a good deal on the boat during the week, but fear that our allotted time for building her is too short.

Sunday, April 25th. Tried to shoot some cattle today. but, as usual, we could not get near enough to them. Lived on goat and chicken , and heartily sick and tired of both. Our fruit, which we had in great abundance, made up in a great measure for many deficiencies in our bill Of fare.

Monday, April 26th, The long boat had not arrived up to this date. I very much feared that the boat and occupants had met with disaster, supposing that the second mate, in compliance with my instructions sent by sea-bird post, had left Oeno for this island. Their non-arrival gave me great anxiety. Part of the day engaged on the boat, but, rheumatism having attacked me, I was obliged to stop work and remain at home. This complaint had troubled me a good deal and I feared it would disable me before we could get away.

Tuesday April 27th. Today the veteran hog previously alluded to met his death after a long and severe struggle. Some of the party who were out hunting with our improved gun saw the savage animal on a hill side, where, owing to rain, the ground was soft and slippery. Whenever we met him he charged upon us furiously, and we lost no time in climbing the nearest tree. This day, however, his situation was almost one of helplessness, as he wallowed about half imbedded in mud and clay. One of the men was enabled to get near enough to shoot the creature just as he had his mouth open and was ready for a charge upon us. After quite a battle he gave up, being almost riddled with bullets. He was a monstrous fellow with tusks several inches long. He was brought home in triumph and hailed as welcome addition to our larder.

Friday, April 28th. Cut up and salted our hog. We got an abundance of salt from the rooks after a heavy surf had been running, leaving a deposit of salt water which soon evaporated, leaving a crust of salt upon the rocks all around the island. In the evening, Mr. B. and I held a consultation regarding our situation, future movements and prospects.

Thursday, April 29th. Finished our planks today and laid them up against the church to dry. In the afternoon laid the keel of our boat and began to set her up, though with great in convenience from the want of tools. We hadn't even a single saw and had to use an axe instead, thus wasting much lumber and taking much valuable time.

Saturday, May 1st. Heavy rain in the morning and thick clouds all day. I was visited by the blues today and felt utterly broken down as I thought of the great anxiety and suspense that must exist at home.

Wednesday, May 5th. The frame of the boat being up, we set about planking her and did a long day's work. In the evening picked oakum, having on hand scraps of rope picked up here and there. Large pieces we unlaid and made into yarns with which to make rigging for the boat now building.

Friday, May 7th. Making sails today from rags of every hue and fabric that we could find - cotton, woolen, silk or linen, from heavy canvas to the thinnest sheeting.

Saturday, May 8th. Collected bread fruit today. It is about the size of the largest apple, which it somewhat resembles. The only necessary preparation is baking, after which, on removing the outer shell or husk, the fruit is ready for the table. It has a taste very much like that of new bread. All these fruits are to be had only by an expert climber. By this time, after long practice and much destruction of clothing, I was quite a proficient, and by grasping a cocoanut tree in my hands could walk up, after the style of a monkey, with perfect ease.

Monday, May 10th. Very cool today. After our boat building we gathered about a fire built outdoors and picked oakum. I did not think I should ever get down to that again, but so it was after all.

Tuesday, May 11th. Finished planking our boat today.

Wednesday, May 12th. On a general hunt for nails, or anything of metal that could be made into fastenings for the boat. We even burned houses to get nails, but hardly got enough then.

Friday, May 14th. Today we used up the last of our boards and were obliged to set at work to hew out more. This, by the way, is a long and laborious process. We had to take a log and hew it down to the thickness of one and a quarter inches. Our only tools to do this work are axes, but luckily we had planes to smooth the plank. Every day some one of us gathered a lot of green cocoanuts, the milk of which was almost the only thing we had to drink.

Monday, May 17th. Gradually finishing up the boat. We lacked some very necessary things, particularly in the way of iron for fastenings, and our progress was thus necessarily slow.

Friday, May 21st. In the church at work picking oakum. I don't think that edifice was ever used for such a purpose before or since. Mr. B., and a man hunting for cattle today. As usual, burned much powder and made a great racket, but spilled no blood.

Wednesday, May 26. My twenty-eighth birthday. On my last I but little expected to be situated as I was on this day. I hoped on my next to be at home and amongst my friends, who by this time, I thought, had given up all idea of ever hearing from me again.

Thursday, May 27th. Set fire to a house today to obtain nails for our boat. The man who started the fire went off and left it in flames. After a time we noticed heavy smoke pouring over the hills, and on going over to the house found that not only one but four houses had been destroyed. Worst of all, in one Of them was a quantity of clothing which we could ill afford to lose.

Saturday, May 29. Devoted the day to making a charcoal-pit. We shall need a good deal of fuel when we start off, and it seems to me that charcoal is the most convenient we could carry. Our stock of gunpowder run very low, but in hunting around found nearly a keg of it, but in one solid lump. This, after being dried and crushed, answered our purpose very well.

Wednesday, June 2nd. Began work on a rope walk, it being necessary to make ropes-to use in rigging our boat now building.

Thursday, June 3rd. Still at work rope making, and between three or four of us made forty-five fathoms, such as will suit us very well. Still eating goats and drinking cocoanut milk. We had up to this day eaten twenty-nine goats, five sheep and a hog. All things considered, we have lived very well.

Friday, June 4th. Our boat today was finished, that is her hull. Our spars are not yet made and we have some caulking to do, but the hull we can say is done, as far as wood-work goes. The boat is thirty feet long, eight wide and four deep, having a cabin. She carries three sails and is schooner-rigged. Part of the sails made from our old sails, but the remainder of old rags of every sort. We put a pump into the boat to keep her clear of water in case she leaks. Had we plenty of good provisions should go to San Francisco, but as we have not we intend to go to some of the islands that are inhabited nearer to us.

Saturday, June 5th. Made a caulking-iron today and picked oakum; afterwards spun it into rolls.

Thursday, June 10th. Caulking and laying seams today. Using tar and paint instead of pitch, both of which we found in one of the houses.

Monday, June 14th. Took down the flagstaff today, intending to use it for a mast. Some of the men have been spar-making for several days. Engaged also salting down goat meat to take to sea. Tried to shoot cattle, but without success.

Tuesday, June 15th. Our boat being built of green wood has shrunk s0 as to require caulking again.

Thursday, June 17th. All day caulking the boat, and had her nearly ready for sea.

Saturday, June l9th. We have only to step our masts, rig our spars. and bind sails to be ready to go to sea. We feared, however, that the sails would hardly last us long, being very rudely made of frail stuff .

Thursday, June 24th. Fitted the spars, but could do only half a days work owing to heavy rain. Began building a skiff to be used as a tender to the larger boat.

Thursday. July 1st. Mr. B. and I found several old barrels which we repaired and sent to the landing to be used as water casks on board our boat. Finished the small boat today.

Saturday, July 3rd. Busy today cutting wood for fuel and carrying it to the beach. Nearly ready to leave and expect every day to get away the next.

Sunday, July 4th. Wrote several letters, intending to leave them on the island, giving an account of my adventures, etc.

Monday, July 5th. Took the small boat and made soundings of the channel in which to launch our boat. Jammed my hand very severely in moving large rocks, but was greatly relieved by the application of Perry Davis' Pain Killer, which I found on the island.

Friday, July 9th. All hands down to the beach, getting the boat ready for launching. Hard day's work it was, too. Stove the boat slightly in turning her.

Tuesday, July 13th. Three of the men, regarding the staving of the boat yesterday as a bad omen, today declined to go to sea in her. I made no objections, feeling that the less in the boat the greater comfort for each one.

Thursday, July 15th. Found the boat on her beam ends, the heavy surf having washed away the shores. This is the highest point that the surf has reached since our arrival on the island.

Friday, July 16th. Wind northwest, strong in the morning. Sea much lower than yesterday. Carried provisions to the boat, intending to start off next day. In the afternoon wind southwest, with rain, keeping us at home.

Saturday, July 17th. Strong winds from the southeast. It was very trying to one thus to wait day after day, now that we were ready to go. In the afternoon carried twelve hundred oranges on board, also our stove, which was made of an old copper kettle.

Wednesday, July 21st. Made an ensign today from red trimming on the church pulpit, white cotton from an old shirt and blue dungaree. Called our boat the J0HN ADAMS, after one of the original settlers of Pitcairn's Island.

Friday, July 23rd. Bid good-bye to our old home and started for the landing, At 12 o'clock we launched the boat without disaster or mishap, and an anchored her off shore. Our anchor was an old anvil. Mr. B., and I went ashore and dug up my money, which had been all this time directly under the boat while building. Soon after noon weighed anchor and started out to sea, being accompanied a mile or two by our men who proposed remaining on the island. They left us with three cheers. At first we had a light wind from the West, and before morning a heavy gale, obliging us to shorten sail. My intention was to steer for Tahiti, but, the wind being against us, we headed for the Marqueses. Mr. B., myself and the crew very seasick, and had our boat swamped during that night, it would have been a great effort for us to have saved ourselves.

Saturday, July 24th. Fresh gales from the northwest, with heavy sea. Our boat very uneasy, having a peculiar motion, very different from that of the ship. She goes along much better and easier than I expected, and after the trial of last night I could but feel more confident of her. Mr. B. and two men still very sick. We intended to have passed close to Oeno Island, but there being a contrary wind we were unable to do so. Made up to this noon (20 hours from Pitcairn's Island) eighty-one miles.

Sunday, July 25th. Throughout the day fair, but some rain squalls. Strong breezes from the northwest and a heavy sea on. Boat very uneasy, but going along dry. Feel much better today and getting used to the motion of the boat. Made last twenty-four hours one hundred and twenty-seven miles.

Monday, July 26th. Moderate wind from the southwest and very pleasant generally, though early in the day somewhat squally. Got our stove on deck. Killed and cooked a few chickens, having two dozen in a coop on deck. Seasick people entirely recovered and everybody in good spirits. Made one hundred and twelve miles.

Tuesday, July 27th. Trade winds from the southeast. Long, heavy swell on, making our boat very uneasy. Obliged to crawl on all fours. Lived on chicken and goat today, both well cooked and palatable. Dried our clothes on deck. Very warm and growing more so every day. Made one hundred miles this day.

Wednesday, July 28th. Fair day and warm, with light southeast trade winds. Going along nicely and as dry as can be. Cooked breakfast this morning myself, it being my watch on deck. Boiled potatoes and fried bananas and had a good meal. Most too warm for comfort, but we are too well off to complain. Made one hundred and fifteen miles today.

Thursday, July, 29th. Pleasant, with fresh trade winds from the east-northeast. I am troubled today with a bad headache who is rather aggravated by the motion of the boat. Made one hundred and twenty-four miles.

Friday, July 30th. Fair, with moderate wind from the east-northeast. Sun pouring down upon us, hot, and we are unable to get a shade from it. One week since leaving Pitcairn's Island, and have done well. Made over one hundred miles each day; this day one hundred and fourteen.

Saturday, July 31st. Moderate southeast trades. Sea smooth. Making good progress, but too hot for comfort. Our stove answers our purpose very well and cooks our goat and chicken very nearly to perfection.

Sunday, August lst. Trades from the southeast. Almost melting hot and we suffer a good deal. Our limbs are getting cramped and stiff, as we have no opportunity to move about. Made one hundred and eighteen miles.

Monday, August 2nd. Very light trades and pleasant, In the afternoon made the island of Dominique and two others. At night hove to off the islands. Made today eighty-five miles.

Tuesday, August 3rd. Fair day. Close in to the island or Ohitahoo, one of the Marquesas. We could see the natives ashore very plainly. Sailed around the island and stood into Resolution Bay. Having seen houses there, we thought that there might be a European settlement there. The natives came off in their canoes and finally surrounded us. Found that there are no Europeans on the island. They were anxious for us to anchor, but I was quite as anxious to get away, as they were a savage looking set. Stood over to the island of Ohevahoa, but the wind was light and we were unable to reach it and stood for Nukahiva. Made about one hundred miles today.

Wednesday, August 4th. Fair and fine breeze. In the morning saw the island of Nukahiva. Not having any chart we had to sail all around the island to find the harbor, and had about given up the idea of finding a settlement. We had taken account of our provisions and had determined to go to the Sandwich Islands, some 2,500 or 5,000 miles away. We rounded the point of the harbor, and to our great Joy and surprise there lay at anchor an American Man-of-War, the only vessel in the harbor. So great was our joy that we were unable to speak for some time but could only sit and look at this, the first ship we had seen since leaving San Francisco six months before, and this one flying the stars and stripes. As soon as we could command our feelings we stood for the ship and hoisted our ensign. In about an hour we anchored within a few rods of her and were hailed. We gave them in response an account of ourselves, stating our ships name and nationality. The Captain sent his boat off with his compliments and a request for us to come on board. In the boat was a sailor who had been with me a year before who at once recognized me. I put on my best clothes, consisting of a ragged coat, a shirt and pants all dilapidated, and went on board taking my gold. The ship proved to be the U.S. sloop-of-war VANDALIA, which had only reached here the day before and was about to leave. No American ship had been here for nearly five years. A French settlement was on the island, so that, had I not seen the VANDALIA, I should have been sure of protection. I was kindly received on board the VANDALIA in the mess-room by the Captain and all his officers and guests, including the Governor of the island. I gave them an account of my adventures and stated the thereabouts of the remainder of the crew and passengers as supplied with clothing and all necessary comforts. All hands were ordered on board to prepare to go to sea in the morning early. Captain Sinclair gave me every assistance in his power and took me into his cabin.

Thursday, August 5th. On board the VANDALIA as comfortable as can be. During the morning I sold my boat to one of the missionaries, receiving for her two hundred and fifty dollars. I was very sorry to part with her, as many pleasant associations are connected with her. At 10 A.M. left the harbor and sailed for Oeno and Pitcairn's Island by way of Tahiti, there we intended to stop for wood and water. Reading home papers today, but am hardly yet accustomed to this change.

Tuesday, August lOth. After a very pleasant voyage in every respect we arrived at Tahiti. Time hangs heavily on my hands as I have nothing to do and much to think of, besides being very anxious to be on my way home. Called at the American Consul's and found that nothing had been heard from my crew, and believed them to be still at Oeno. Found that a French frigate was to start for Honolulu in about ten days, and expected to be obliged to take passage in her.

Wednesday, August 11th. The VANDALIA left for Oeno, Mr. Bartlett being on board, he having joined her as an officer. Received a very polite note from the French Governor offering me a passage in the Sloop-of-War EURYDICE, which I thankfully accepted. I was quite impatient to get away and hoped her sailing day would not be long deferred.

Tuesday. August 17th. sailed from Tahiti bound for the Sandwich Islands. After a pleasant passage of sixteen days arrived at Honolulu. During the passage the officers seemed to exert themselves in every possible way to promote my comfort, and I left the ship almost with regret, though the monotony of the voyage was most tedious. On going ashore I found the American bark YANKEE loading for San Francisco to sail in about ten days. Engaged passage in her, but could hardly muster patience to wait for her sailing. It seemed as though I was delayed on every hand in my endeavors to reach home. After spending thirteen days in Honolulu, having no news from home, but reading in the papers of the loss of the WILD WAVE with all on board, which only increased my anxiety to reach home and contradict this report in person.

Wednesday, September 15th. Sailed for San Francisco, previously having called on the EURYDICE to pay my parting respects to the officers. As we sailed by the ECRYDICE she manned her yards and gave us three cheers.

Wednesday, September 29th. Arrived in San Francisco. On coming to anchor numerous shore boats came off - among others my old boatman who took me off to the ship on the 9th Of February preceding. He looked at me in perfect amazement and exclaimed, "My God! is that you, Captain Knowles?" He took me ashore, then I immediately started for the Bank Exchange to see my old friend Parker. This was a gala day in San Francisco - the citizens being engaged in celebrating the laying of the first Atlantic cable. I met there many of my old friends who welcomed me in a most hearty manner, they having long since given me up as among the missing. This was a gala day to me, meeting, as I did, so many of my old friends. and at the close I was nearly worn out with excitement. I wish above all things that there was an overland telegraph, that I might at once communicate with my friends. I heard from home that I had a daughter then about seven months old, but other than this nothing of interest.

Wednesday, October 6th. I left San Francisco on the steamer GOLDEN GATE for New York, where I arrived on the 28th, having been quite ill most of the passage. Went immediately to the Astor House and then called on my friend John Simpkins, who was indeed an astonished man to see me, who had long since been counted among the missing. Here I heard from home direct for the first time, and at once telegraphed my wife at Brewster and friends in Boston. This caused great excitement among my many friends; in fact, I did not know how many I had until I became so great a hero.

Next day I received a dispatch from my wife saying "All Well".

Friday, October 30th. Left for Boston, and on Saturday morning started from Boston for home, there I arrived at noon. I was met at Yarmouth by Mr. Cobb with his turnout, and carried to Brewster in triumph. Found my wife in a feeble state of health, but the baby well and hearty. My mother also was in poor health, she among others having had many anxious moments on my account. The meeting with my family was quite affecting; such a meeting seldom takes place. Everyone had long since given me up as lost. I was indeed glad to be at home and at rest. The hard, wild life of months past had told severely on my health, and the intense anxiety also had assisted to wear me out. I settled myself quietly at home and truly appreciated home comforts while trying to regain my health. About two months after my arrival home, I was visited by my mate, Mr. Bartlett, who had left the VANDALIA in San Francisco. After leaving Tahiti she sailed for Oeno Island, there finding forty men - one having died. They had evidently quarreled among themselves, as they each one lived in a separate tent. On leaving them they were living quietly together in twos. They had built a boat from pieces of the ship, but had built so large a craft that they could not launch her. They had had anything but a pleasant time, according to the account of the steward, who was a faithful man, and had taken excellent care of my effects and delivered them to Mr. B. After taking the men from Oeno, the VANDALIA sailed for Pitcairn's Island and took off the three men left there. After visiting several islands and being engaged in frequent skirmishes with the natives, she sailed for San Francisco.


In the month of February, 1872, fourteen years after the events just narrated, I sailed from San Francisco in the ship GLORY OF THE SEAS, of Boston, bound to Liverpool. On the 7th of March, at 4 A.M., came in sight of Pitcairn's Island and at 12 could distinguish the homes and the English flag flying from the staff. At 2 P.M., we lay becalmed under the land, and being about giving up seeing any of the people, sighted a boat coming off. In it were party of men seven or eight in number. They soon hailed us and came on board, bringing with them a large quantity of fruit. The captain of the party, who was the chief magistrate on the island, introduced himself to me. Then I made myself known to him, at which he seemed to have lost his senses. He yelled to his party, "Captain Knowles, of the WILD WAVE.". "Are you really Captain Knowles? but they say he is dead." "Are you Captain Knowles of Cape Cod?" They seemed to doubt my word until I described my hen house to them, and gave them other details of my life on the island, at which they were satisfied. They insisted on my going ashore with them which I declined to do. At 4 P.M., they left us, taking with them quite a load of books, papers, etc., promising to come off again in an hour or two. At 6 P.M., they came off, bringing a heavy cargo of fruit, etc., and some fowl and a gift of some sort from nearly everybody on the island. My arrival had apparently created no little stir ashore, and the whole population regretted I had not paid them a visit and remained longer. At 9 P.M., they left us with their boat well loaded with a variety of useful things, including a pig. At 9:50 P.M, we took a fine breeze from the East, and in two hours Pitcairn's Island was far out of sight. The wind seemed made to order for us on this day, dying away calm on our arrival and springing up strong just at dark, as the boat was leaving us. The supply of fruit on board was very large, and we enjoyed watermelons and bananas off Cape Horn, and oranges nearly all the may to Liverpool, where we arrived in May, 1872.

(Here is a letter from Capt. Knowles to a friend in San Francisco. This gives a vivid description of what life was like on Pitcairn's Island during his second visit. This was many years after his enforced residency there.)

"SHIP GLORY OF THE SEAS" AT SEA, Wednesday, May 7, 1873

Dear Sir, I have not forgotten that I promised to write on my way to Liverpool, and if I fulfill my promise, it is about time to commence. - - - I am now 112 days at sea, and some distance from my port yet. Wags in hopes to have been there before this, but have had nothing but light winds and calms - - - Thirty-five days out I made Pitcairn's Island and was soon up with it. It was a pleasant day and a little breeze. Some time before I got up to the island the boats were off alongside, and were very glad to see me, or at least pretended to be, and I guess they were. They were very anxious for me to go on shore, so I went, and was well paid for going. On the rooks at the landing stood about twenty-five or thirty women and children, all of them barefooted and a great many were inclosed in rather scanty wardrobe. As soon as the boat came in they rushed out to me and would have taken me on shore in their arms but I took the hand of one buxom lass and sprang on the rocks dry-shod, and on the very rock which I built my boat on. They gathered around me as thick as flies. "And is this really Captain Knowles?" I expect they would have kissed me if I had made an advance, but, you know, I am a diffident youth in the presence of ladies. Miss Rosa Young, the belle of the island, presented me with a huge boquet, which took several men to carry. After greeting them there, we started up the hill. After a hard climb, we arrived at the top rather fatigued. There another group - an old woman looking as if she went there in the BOUNTY. and a dozen or so almost naked children. I asked her if all those children were hers. No, she said, they were her grandchildren. Then we took some refreshments - cocoanut milk and oranges. Then we went on to the settlement. Everything looked very natural to me, other than seeing so many about there and the houses occupied. Went into all the houses. They did not look as if they had many luxuries, nor as if they were very industrious; but it had been a dry season and they were short of most everything. Went into my house. It looked as natural as could be. Everything just as I left it - the table I ate off all the time I was there, was in the same place as I left it. It is occupied by Mr. Moses Young, who had twin daughters fifteen years old and as pretty as pinks, and if dressed as our young ladies are, they would take the shine from a great many who pass for belles. After walking about for an hour, looking at my old resorts, we started for the landing. You ought to have seen our escorts. Not every king has had such a one. Webb (a young gentleman who is with me) and I headed. Then in order came followers: Mary Young, one of the twins, with a bottle of cocoanut oil; her sister with a bottle 0f syrup; Mrs. Young with two hens under her arms; Alphonso Young with figs; Moses with a large bunch of bananas; women with a lot of ducks; man with a sheep; woman with a pumpkin; and so it went, every man, woman, and child having something - enough to load the boat. It looked good to me to see my ship lying off there to take me away, and it brought to mind the many hours and days I spent there, always looking off, hoping to see some ship coming to take us off, but no such good sight did we see. Then we had to leave them, after an affecting parting, and the last I saw of them they were waving their hats, or anything they could find to wave at us, I shall long remember the day spent there. Got lots of fruit, of which we have a lot now. So ended my visit. I gave them lots of things, and promised to call again then I passed there. Wish you could have been with us.

Yours, etc., Josiah N. Knowles.

Source - Shipmasters of Cape Cod, by Henry C. Kittredge