The time had now arrived when we were to bid adieu to Strong’s Island and its pleasures, some of us forever. Need we say that we had become somewhat attached to our friends here, who had ever treated us with such kindness? Never shall we forget them; and in future years, when memory shall recall former happy scenes and pleasures enjoyed while _roving_, Strong’s Island and its simple, kind-hearted natives will stand forth bold and prominent. “Isle of beauty, fare thee well!” CHAPTER XXIV. Success of the “Mohawk.”—Ship “Napoleon.”—Whaling.—Bound to the southward.—Sickness and Death of Mr. L.—Ship “Roscoe.”—Pleasant Island.—Massacre of the “Inga’s” Crew.—Narrow Escape.—Ship “Hannibal.”—Christmas and New-Year.—Ship “William Tell.”—Ship “John Wells.”—Violent Death of Captain Hussey.—Bound for Hong Kong.—H. B. M.’s Brig “Serpent.”—Island of Rota.—Wild Boar.—A general Stampede.—“All Hands and the Cook.”—Man the Victor.—Heavy Gales.—Gad’s Rock.—Formosa.—Bashee Islands. On Friday, November 12th, soon after leaving Strong’s Island, we gammed with the “Mohawk,” our old friends, and learned that they had taken eight hundred barrels of oil the previous season on Japan. We could not but envy them, as we were one year from home when they sailed. But we felt that if we could but _see_ the whales, we would soon add to the one thousand barrels we had in our hold. A few days afterward, at Ocean Island, we spoke the ship “Napoleon,” of New Bedford. The following day we raised whales, and, determined to give them battle, lowered four boats. In less than two hours we had three alongside, and at sundown “started the works” with merry hearts. A few more such lowerings would point the old ship’s head homeward. But for the present we must steer for a southern port. Our second officer, Mr. Lowe, had been failing in health for many months, and our captain determined to make Sydney, New South Wales, that medical advice and treatment might be procured for him. Accordingly, about the 1st of December, we left the Group, bound for Sydney. But a short time elapsed, however, ere we saw that it was of no use; Mr. L. could not live more than a day or two at the farthest. On Saturday, December 4th, he appeared sinking very fast. At his own request we placed him in an arm-chair, that he might, as he said, breathe more freely. With great calmness he described his feelings and symptoms, “gradually growing more chilly, and losing his life by degrees,” as he said. At about 10 P.M. he departed without a struggle. Never did we witness the death-scene where the sufferer was so perfectly composed and resigned. So quietly did his spirit take its flight that it appeared as if he had fallen asleep. Sail was at once reduced, the body laid out, wrapped in a sheet, covered by the American ensign, and placed on the quarter-deck.