We found a Scotchman—Captain Anderson he called himself—who had resided here many years, and accumulated quite a little fortune trading with ships, etc. He informed us that Captain Luce, of the “Boy,” of Warren, together with his boat’s crew, had been massacred by the natives at M‘Gaskill’s Island but a short time previous. The captain went ashore for the purpose of trading with the natives for fruit, fowl, etc. He had visited the island before, and always found the natives friendly and peaceable. As he did not return to the ship, the officer in charge kept close in to the land, and fearing there had been foul play, early in the morning he stood in, and, by the aid of the spy-glass, discovered the natives dressed in the clothing belonging to the boat’s crew. They saw a white man coming off in a canoe and making signals to them. When within hailing distance, he reported that the captain and boat’s crew had been murdered; that he had resided on the island some time, and was not afraid they would attack him. Upon learning this sad news, the ship proceeded to the cruising-ground in charge of the mate. Every thing being in readiness, on Monday, May 5th, we left Guam for the Japan ground, to cruise over a trackless waste of waters for five or six months in pursuit of dollars in the shape of sperm whales. Nothing out of the usual routine of ship’s duties occurred for nearly two months. All was monotony; the same process day after day—not even a sail nor a _whale_ to vary the scene. At length, however, on the morning of Sunday, June 22d, our ears were startled by the cry of “Sail ho!” from the mast-head. It was a dead calm—not a breath of air stirring—and the sail was just visible from aloft. About 4 P.M. a breeze sprang up, and brought the stranger with it. It proved to be the “Boy,” and a boat’s crew came on board. They confirmed the report relative to the massacre of Captain Luce and his men. They also reported that a Nantucket ship cruising on the ground had lost a boat and crew by being taken down by a whale. It was supposed the line became foul, and, before it could be cut, boat and crew disappeared beneath the surface, as they were never seen or heard from afterward. We now found large quantities of albicore and skipjack around the ship. These fish are very good eating, tasting much like fresh cod, and there were thousands of them to be seen in every direction. All that was necessary to take them was to tie a piece of white rag on a hook, and then sit on the bulwarks and trail the line along the top of the water, the fish jumping at it as fast as one wished to haul them in. We have seen as much as ten barrels of them caught in one day. They weigh from five to fifty pounds. It is singular, but they follow a ship as long as she remains in those latitudes.