said that he was afraid of the natives, who had directed him not to advance any nearer to us. I then directed him to run to us and we would protect him; but he declined, saying, that the natives would kill him with stones before he could get there. During all this time, they thought he was arranging their plan for us to come on shore, and called out frequently to him to know what we said; to which, he replied in a way calculated to suit his purpose. After discharging and re-loading our pistols, with one of which and a cartridge-box each man was provided, we landed, and marched up to the place where Lay was standing. Still doubting whether he were not more foe than friend, and determined that, under any circumstances, he should not escape, I received him with my left hand, presenting, at the same time, a cocked pistol to his breast. I was not insensible to the sentiment my harsh reception was calculated to inspire; but circumstanced as I was, I could not risk every thing in preference to inflicting a momentary pang, keenly as it might be felt. I repeated the question, "Who are you?" to which he replied, "I am your man," and burst into tears. I told him then to say to the natives, that if they rose from their seats, or threw a stone, we would shoot them all; but the poor fellow, delirious with joy for the moment, knew not what he said, and, instead of obeying my command, called out in half English, and half Island language, in broken sentences, most of which was unintelligible to us; amongst other things, he exclaimed, "they are going to kill me, they are going to kill me." I ordered him to be silent, and then asked, why he told them we were going to kill him.--Recollecting himself immediately, he begged my pardon, declaring that he knew not what he was saying. By this time, some of the natives had risen, and were becoming very animated and violent in their conversation and gestures. Two or three of them advanced towards us; I pointed my pistol at them, and made Lay repeat my threat, which had the desired effect on all but one old man, who, unarmed, advanced in defiance of me. Lay desired me to suffer him to approach, which he did, and taking hold of Lay's hand with both of his, he asked what his countrymen were going to do with him. Lay explained to him, in a few words, as clearly as he could, at which the old man seemed much affected. This was his benefactor, the person to whom he was indebted for life; and the poor fellow seemed not wanting in sensibility or gratitude, at the moment of their parting. He embraced him affectionately, told him that he would see him again before he departed, and wept like a child. I was unwilling to remain longer than was absolutely necessary, lest the natives, when they had recovered from their first surprise, should conceive a contempt for our small number, and make trial of our strength, in which I knew they would be much superior to us, if they