About nightfall, we broke away from this generous-hearted household, and hurried down to the water. It was a mad, merry night among the sailors; they had on tap a small cask of wine, procured in the same way as the doctor’s flasks. An hour or two after midnight, everything was noiseless; but when the first streak of the dawn showed itself over the mountains, a sharp voice hailed the forecastle, and ordered the ship unmoored. The anchors came up cheerily; the sails were soon set; and with the early breath of the tropical morning, fresh and fragrant from the hillsides, we slowly glided down the bay, and were swept through the opening in the reef. Presently we “hove to,” and the canoes came alongside to take off the islanders who had accompanied us thus far. As he stepped over the side, I shook the doctor long and heartily by the hand. I have never seen or heard of him since. Crowding all sail, we braced the yards square; and, the breeze freshening, bowled straight away from the land. Once more the sailor’s cradle rocked under me, and I found myself rolling in my gait. By noon, the island had gone down in the horizon; and all before us was the wide Pacific.