orm I have ever been in, if I except the terrible typhoon of
October, 1903, off Japan, when I was wrecked and treated as a Russian
spy. On this occasion a large Japanese fishing fleet was entirely
destroyed. I was, of course, soaked to the skin and got badly bruised,
and was once all but washed overboard, one of the Fijians catching
hold of me in the nick of time. We cast anchor for the night, though
we had only a few miles yet to go, but this short distance took us
eight or nine hours next day, as this channel is nearly always calm. We
had light variable breezes, and tacked repeatedly, but gained ground
slowly. These waters seemed full of large turtles, and we passed them
in great numbers. We overhauled a large schooner, and on hailing them,
the captain, a white man, came on deck. He would hardly believe that
we had been all through the storm. He said that he had escaped most of
it by getting inside the coral reef round Vanua Levu, but even during
the short time he had been out in the storm, he had had to throw the
greater part of his cargo overboard. From the way he spoke, he had
evidently been drinking, possibly trying to forget his lost cargo.

Before I left Fiji I heard that the _Lurline_ had gone to her last
berth. She was driven on to a coral reef in a bad storm off the coast
of Taviuni. The captain seemed to stand in much fear of Ratu Lala. He
told me many thrilling yarns about him; said he robbed his people
badly, and added that he did not think that I would get on well with
him, and would soon be anxious to leave.

I landed at the large village of Somo-somo, glad to be safely on _terra
firma_ once more. It was a pretty village, with a large mountain
torrent dashing over the rocks in the middle of it. The huts were
dotted about irregularly on a natural grass lawn, and large trees,
clumps of bamboo, coconuts, bread-fruit trees, and bright-coloured
"crotons" added a great deal to the picturesqueness of the village. At
the back the wooded hills towered up to a height of nearly 4,000 feet,
and white streaks amid the mountain woods showed where many a fine
waterfall tumbled over rocky precipices.

Ratu Lala lived in a wooden house, built for him (as "Roko" for
Taviuni), by the government, on the top of a hill overlooking the
village, and thither on landing I at once made my way. I found the
Prince slowly recovering from an attack of fever, and lying on a heap
of mats (which formed his bed) on the floor of his own