First among the principal fruits that the island produces is the orange. The trees begin to be in blossom from the end of July at the earliest, and continue flowering until October. The season of the fruit is from April to November. As the trees occasionally produce a second crop, it is not unusual to have them in fruit the year round. Watermelons, muskmelons, pineapples, roseapples, and figs are in season from November to April. Bananas, of which there are a few varieties, can be had all the year round, but are at their best from January to June. The guava grows wild, and from March to July the trees are laden with fruit. Grapes might be cultivated. The sugar cane is also one of the principal productions of the island, the rich syrup made from its juice being used instead of sugar. Arrowroot is cultivated with profit. The process of making it involves much labor. The plants are set in the ground in the months of October and November, and the roots are fully matured by June. The yam crop is set at the same time as the arrowroot, and takes the same length of time to come to maturity. Such are some of the present productions of the little island that became the hiding place of the mutineers. They themselves doubtless introduced the breadfruit, cocoanut, taro, yam, and one variety of the sweet potato. The places they once owned and cultivated are still called by their names, as John Adams’ Breadfruit Patch, Ned Young’s Ground, McCoy’s Valley, and so on through the whole list. But, while their names remain, every trace of their burial places is lost, the grave of John Adams alone excepted. Pitcairn! To thee, land of my birth, My song I bring; Thy hills and valleys, trees and flowers, Their praise I sing. The cocoanut, with waving plumes Of shining green, The sweetly-scented orange blooms, Both here are seen. And stately trees, and luscious fruits, Thy soil supplies; But the enriching showers and rains The heaven denies. Thou once wast fertile, rich, and green, But now, how bare; And yet thou still art beautiful, Still sweet and fair. Such matchless days of calm, fair skies Thy summers bring! And lovely, too, are all the hours Of balmy spring. Each season, as it rolls around, New beauties gives; And every object, silent, cries, “My Maker lives.” [Illustration] CHAPTER V. JOHN BUFFETT and JOHN EVANS Marriages and Births