rather, carrying coals to Newcastle. So long as they had money, they would not work for fifty dollars a month, and when their money was gone, they would work for ten. ``What do you do here, Mr. Mannini?''[1] said the captain. ``Oh! we play cards, get drunk, smoke,-- do anything we're a mind to.'' ``Don't you want to come aboard and work?'' ``Aole! aole make make makou i ka hana. Now, got plenty money; no good, work. Mamule, money pau-- all gone. Ah! very good, work!-- maikai, hana hana nui!'' ``But you'll spend all your money in this way,'' said the captain. ``Aye! me know that. By-'em-by money pau-- all gone; then Kanaka work plenty.'' This was a hopeless case, and the captain left them, to wait patiently until their money was gone. We discharged our hides and tallow, and in about a week were ready to set sail again for the windward. We unmoored, and got everything ready, when the captain made another attempt upon the oven. This time he had more regard to the ``mollia tempora fandi,'' and succeeded very well. He won over Mr. Mannini to his interest, and as the shot was getting low in the locker at the oven, prevailed upon him and three others to come on board with their chests and baggage, and sent a hasty summons to me and the boy to come ashore with our things, and join the gang at the hide-house. This was unexpected to me; but anything in the way of variety I liked; so we made ready, and were pulled ashore. I stood on the beach while the brig got under way, and watched her until she rounded the point, and then went to the hide-house to take up my quarters for a few months. [1] The vowels in the Sandwich Island language have the sound of those in the languages of Continental Europe. CHAPTER XIX