I have said little or nothing about our single Kanaka. He was of the color of his race—not very dark—a good sailor, good-natured, lusty and diligent. He had shipped on his first voyage at Honolulu and had seen something of the world—more particularly of the world of water. Born in a sunny clime, he did not like cold weather, and he had suffered greatly in rounding the Horn. He had picked up considerable knowledge from observation and experience, and he had what people call in common language “horse sense.” In the second dogwatch I went up to him and said: “Ohoo, I suppose that we are going whaling now.” “Whale as you go, but I tink cap’n, he go get to drink and eat.” “What do you mean by that, Ohoo?” “Me tell. No good water, old stuff to eat.” “In other words, Ohoo, the captain wants fresh water for us all and fresh things to eat, and he’s going to stop at some island to get these things.” My inference was right. “Dat it.” “What island do you think?” “Me dunno, but me tink Quesas.” I wondered where Quesas was. I had taken great interest in geography at school, because, I suppose, of my fondness for the sea. I knew that the Pacific was studded with islands, but I could not recall any island of that name. Ohoo resumed, “Me dunno as me call him right, but not all Quesas; he not all Quesas, he somethin’ before dat.” Then it came to me. “Is the name Marquesas?” “Dat him, dat him.” “Do you know about these islands, Ohoo; for there are more than one?” Then he told me the names of two of them. I could not understand his pronunciation, but the real names I learned later. Nukahiva he called Newkeva, and Roa Pona he called Row Pew. “Newkeva be fine place—plenty good water, plenty everytin’ else. Row Pew, he fine place, but me no like him. Long ’go dey take Kanaka and eat him.” “Cannibals?” I inquired. “Me no know canny bells. Me know all ship bells.” It was all clear now. The drinking water was almost unendurable, and every one from the captain down was longing for fresh food. There was no sign of scurvy, but scurvy might at any time appear. The Kanaka’s guess seemed reasonable, and the thought of having a drink of good water once more and a sufficiency of fruit and vegetables, as well as other things, was as pleasurable as the feeling that for once I had the opportunity of getting the better of Kreelman. The next morning I said to him: “I say, Mr. Kreelman, shall we take on our recruits at Nukahiva or Roa Pona?” I put an accent on “Mr.” and I spoke in a tone which indicated confidence in the statement. “Who told you that we are goin’ to stop at them places—Lakeum or the captain?” “Neither of them. The captain hasn’t spoken to me but once since we sailed, and then he told me to get out of the way. Lakeum’s talked with me some, but he’s never mentioned stopping anywhere for recruits. You’ve been long enough at sea to know that captain and officers don’t hobnob much with us common sailors.”