CHAPTER I.

THE VOYAGE OUT.

ON BOARD THE MESSAGERIES MARITIMES S.S. ANADYR, NEARING POINT DE GALLE, _April 17, 1875_.

MY DEAR FELLOW-ARAB,—You see I am “once more upon the waters,” but whither I am now bound is a problem which I defy you to guess. I had not time to write to you before my hurried departure from England, but you see my locomotive demon has allowed me a very short spell of rest (if rest it can be called, to rush all over England and Scotland, visiting innumerable friends and relations! Practically, I find such visiting involves more wear and tear of mind and body, than any amount of travelling in distant lands).

Well, as you know, it is not yet six months since I returned home, after eighteen months of the most delightful wanderings in every corner of beautiful Ceylon. It needed all the warmth of family affection to make the bitter cold of an English winter even endurable, and my yearning for tropical heat and sunlight was for ever being reawakened by aggravating acquaintances, who invariably asked me, “Where are you going next?” As I had not the smallest prospect of ever again escaping from my native shores, I always answered, “To Fiji,” as being the most absurd answer that suggested itself to so foolish a question,—a place known to me only as being somehow associated with a schoolboy song about the King of the Cannibal Islands. Judge, then, of my amazement, when, one morning, I received a letter to tell me that Fiji had been annexed, and that Sir Arthur Hamilton Gordon had been appointed first Governor, and gravely suggesting that I should accompany Lady Gordon to her remote home. I need scarcely tell you that the temptation proved irresistible.

To begin with, a cruise in the South Pacific has been one of the dreams of my life; and the idea of going actually to live for an indefinite period on isles where there are still a number of ferocious cannibals, has a savour of romance which you can imagine does not lack charm. And then to do it all so comfortably, gliding into the adventure so easily, without the slightest exertion on my own part, is far too rare a chance to be lost, in spite of the remonstrances of my sisters, who consider it quite unnatural of me to care to leave home again so soon.

Naturally, when I announced my intention of really going, every one replied, “Of course you are only joking!” And indeed, even now, I myself find it difficult to think of Fiji or anything connected with it in any other light than that of a great joke; its very name has always been considered funny!

Its whereabouts, and everything connected with it, are evidently matters of the vaguest uncertainty to all my friends. I did my best to appear astonished at their ignorance, but, between ourselves, I honestly confess to having possessed the very haziest ideas on the subject, up to the moment when that letter reached me, when, of course, I got an atlas and hunted Fiji up. As you probably have no map at hand, and are certain to be equally in the dark, I may as well tell you that it is a group of about 250 islands, of which about 70 are inhabited. That it is in the South Pacific, about ten degrees south of the Equator, thirty degrees east of the north coast of Australia, and twenty degrees north of New Zealand. This is a very rough description, but it is sufficient to make you realise the position.

As yet, I only know of two people who have been there—one of whom, Harry Leefe, started from Cresswell last year to join an uncle who owns an island there, and grows cotton and cocoa-nuts. This Robinson Crusoe of the South Seas has for years past been to us enveloped in a halo of romance; and now I am looking forward to seeing him in his own home, and myself becoming “a resident in the South Seas.” Does it not sound delightful, and don’t you envy me? Before leaving London, I managed to get up some information by reading a cleverly compiled book on Fiji, by a man who has never been there; but he vouches for the group being a terrestrial paradise, where the soil need only be scratched to yield abundant harvests of every sort, and where every form of volcanic crag combines with tropical foliage to produce endless beauties. So I have invested in a goodly stock of drawing paper, and enough paints and brushes to last me a lifetime, and look forward to a most interesting sketching tour. The ground will have the advantage of being altogether new, which is an immense charm.

And now we are fairly started, and a very large pleasant party we are. We (the Fijian family) assembled in London on the 22d March, for a short special service at King’s College Chapel, Somerset House, and next morning started for Paris, where we halted four days, embarking at Marseilles on Easter morning—an unsatisfactory moment for starting, but travellers cannot always choose their own times and seasons. This is a splendid steamer, 3600 tons, most comfortable in every respect, and with a capital table for such as appreciate French cookery.

Our party consists of Sir Arthur and Lady Gordon, and two particularly nice little ones—namely, Nevil, a picturesque girl of six, with silky brown curls, and dark thoughtful eyes; and George, aged four, who is always called Jack, because from his boyhood he has worn real sailor’s clothes, made by a man-of-war’s tailor. Then comes their cousin, Arthur Gordon, who has a fine talent for drawing, and is Sir Arthur’s secretary. Captain Knollys, A.D.C., only joined us at Aden, bringing with him a very important member of the family—namely, Snip, a tiny black and tan terrier. Dr Mayo, Mr Mitchell, Mr Eyre, and Mr Le Hunte, at present complete our party, the latter being a young lawyer, and, moreover, our typical Briton,—a stalwart combination of Ireland and Yorkshire. Mr Mitchell was a tried friend in the West Indies. And Dr Mayo is a keen, clever man, a fellow of New College, Oxford, who has followed his profession in every camp in Europe, and in some in Asia, and now hopes to find an ample field for studying new forms of the ills that flesh is heir to among the various races of the Pacific. He is a good botanist and antiquarian, and is a mine of information on all topics. All these spend several hours a day learning Fijian, with the most exemplary patience and determination, by the help of vocabularies and dictionaries. Last but not least come the excellent Welsh nurse and faithful Portuguese under-nurse; and Mr and Mrs Abbey, major-domo and general heads of all departments, who have already lived with the Gordons in Trinidad and Mauritius, and there proved themselves pillars of Government House: a most comfortable and reliable couple, warranted to take good care of everything and everybody. They have two little boys—the youngest, Arky, a sunny-headed little mite.

Captain and Mrs Havelock, and Dr and Mrs Macgregor, are to join us at Sydney, as are also the Judge and Attorney-General, Sir William and Lady Hackett, and Mr and Mrs de Ricci, so that the white population of Fiji will receive a large accession.

I will add no more at present, except to say that, with my usual luck at this point, it was bitterly cold and very grey coming through the Suez Canal and down the Red Sea. There had been a heavy storm, which turned the sea to mud for some miles ere we reached Port Said, which was dirty and dull as usual,—heavy waves dashing over the breakwater, and Lake Menzaleh looking grey and dreary....—Ever yours.