For three days I could not respond to duty and, while I did not receive the modern treatment which one receives from a trained nurse, the carpenter drew supplies from the medicine chest, applied lotions and wound bandages, if not always with a trained hand, yet with good intent, fortified by words of sympathy and cheer. My associates, rough seafaring men, were kind and moved quietly about in our little enclosure, as if to relieve my suffering and contribute to my comfort. Ohoo was particularly thoughtful, asking, in his broken English, “What me do you? Me willin’ help all time.” And the cook, my old friend, provided from his meager material little dishes that were out of the usual. But constantly there was presented the picture of our old companion in the whale’s jaw—he of whom we all had thought so well, and with whom we had never had a difference—and my heart was filled with gratitude for my preservation and deliverance. It was a pleasure to get back to work and to feel that we were on our way to the Carolines. It was now March, 1861, and we were due at our destination in May. Nothing eventful occurred during the passage; a few whales were seen and boats were lowered, but in each case the chase was abandoned. We were very happy when we caught the first glimpse of land, for we knew that the stay was to be a pretty long one. While there was much work to be done in overhauling the ship and taking aboard supplies, we were told that there would be a good deal of liberty, as the spot we were to visit was remote from any settlement, and the people with whom we were to deal were natives. We dropped anchor in a small bay and there, right before us, was the ship _Sunrise_ of New Bedford, stripped of boats, sails and so forth, and hove down upon her side, so that the keel was exposed. We soon learned that the ship had sprung a leak, and, as the nearest civilized port was many miles away, the ship had been beached and, under the direction of the carpenter, the necessary repairs had been made. I remember what Kreelman said, “Fancy Chest, there’s nothin’ like whalemen. Merchantmen couldn’t do that. Whalemen are jacks at all trades. A whaleship’s a little world, and there’s nothin’ that whalemen can’t do.” And now, after many long years of rather varied experience, I recall Kreelman’s words, and give them my hearty approval. The first thing to do was to get temporary supplies. So a boat was sent ashore with a little trade, and when it returned it brought vegetables, fruit, fowl and pigs enough to last us for a fortnight or more.