conversed with
him, and was struck with one remark which he made.
"You Englishmen go to work in a queerish kind of way," said he; "you
send a parcel of soldiers to live on an island where none but sailors
can be of use. You listen to all that those red coats tell you; they
never thrive when placed out of musket-shot from a gin-shop: and
because _they_ don't like it, you evacuate the island. A soldier likes
his own comfort, although very apt to destroy that of other folks; and
it a'n't very likely he would go and make a good report of an island
that had neither women nor rum, and where he was no better than a
prisoner. Now, if brother Jonathan had taken this island, I guess he
would a' made it pay for its keep; he would have had two or three
crews of whalers, with their wives and families, and all their little
comforts about them, with a party of good farmers to till the land,
and an officer to command the whole. The island can provide itself, as
you may perceive, and all would have gone on well. It is just as easy
to 'fish' the island from the shore as it is in vessel, and indeed
much easier. Only land your boilers and casks, and a couple of dozen
of good whale-boats, and this island would produce a revenue that
would repay with profit all the money laid out upon it, for the
sea-horses have no other place to go to, either to shed their coats in
the autumn, or bring forth their young in the spring. The fishing and
other duties would be a source of amusement to the sailors, who, if
they chose, might return home occasionally in the vessels that came to
take away the full casks of oil and land the empty ones."
The captain of the whaler returned to his ship, but, I suppose, forgot
to give our captain very particular directions about the anchorage. We
ran down to the east end of the island, and were just going to bring
up, when, supposing himself too near the whaler, Peters chose to run
a little further. I should have observed, that as we rounded the
north-east point, the breeze freshed, and the squalls came heavy out
of the gullies and deep ravines. We therefore shortened sail, and,
passing very near the whaler, they hailed us; but it blew so fresh
that we did not hear what they said; and, having increased our
distance from the whaler to what was judged proper, let go the anchor.
Ninety fathoms of cable ran out in a crack, before she turned head
to-wind; and, to our mortification, we found we had passed the bank
upon w
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