I had not yet had a chance to hear Jimmy’s story. It had to wait still longer, for the boats were sent ashore again in the afternoon, with all the new men, and some of ours. They buried the men of the Battles as well as they could. It was almost impossible to dig in that beach, for it was all coral below the very surface. Then they carried their boats across from the ocean side to the lagoon, not more than three or four hundred feet, but the low summit thickly grown up with coconut-palms and low bushes and vines. It must have reminded Captain Coffin of the “haulover” at Nantucket, except for the growth. The “haulover” is nothing but bare sand, and I believe the sea had not broken through at that time. These boats which I speak of were those in which our new friends had come. I should not speak of them as our new friends, for many of them were old friends. Captain Coffin, with a boat’s crew, stayed on the Battles that night, looking her over. Jimmy did not, and I got his story. He was bursting with it. His ship was the John and Alice. After I left New Bedford his desire for the same sort of life, always strong, had become intense. He gave his parents no peace for nearly two years, finally {355} threatening to run away if they would not let him go. They gave in at that, and in the summer of 1874 he shipped before the mast on the John and Alice. They had been out just about a year, had cruised off the River Plate, doubled the Horn, and covered the On Shore and Off Shore grounds. They were making their leisurely way toward Japan when the John and Alice was sunk by a whale in 145° W., 7° S., carrying their five hundred barrels of oil down with her. The crew took to the boats. There had been time to stow plenty of provisions and water in the boats, and they were making for Tahiti, which they would have reached safely, without doubt. But they sighted some of these low-lying islands, and went in among them. They had been sailing through the passages of the archipelago for two days. At daylight on that morning they saw the topmasts of the Clearchus showing dimly in the distance, and the topmasts of the Battles and the coco-palms soon rose. They were making for the ship, passing just outside the line of surf which fringed the island, when they heard our tumult, and landed the best way they could. They managed it, but lost one of their boats in the surf, capsized and pretty badly stove. The surf had not been heavy, or they would have lost more, and possibly some men. Captain Nelson had the stove boat brought aboard for Peter’s surgery.