Pacific Paradise

By Kurt Carlson

Pacific Paradise is the tale of two coming-of-age stories, one of a small island-nation, and the second of a young girl, the daughter of the nation's president.

While citizens of Sumonajob battle between isolationism and an open country welcoming tourism, Mimi must decide which side to choose as her relationship with American businessman Jason Richards grows from hatred and misunderstanding to friendship and alliance.

Among the subplots of the story include the European colonization of the island, the separation of political factions on the future of Sumonajob, and the various characters who show up throughout the story.

Whether it's the weeklong crab races, the deadly trip down to Shanty Town, the abduction of Richards's secretary on their second day on the island, or the comings and goings of Luana and Jeanie, the story twists unexpectedly at every point.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781647010263

Book preview

Chapter One

The carriage shook and jolted as the team of horses strained along the cobblestone road, carrying the lone passenger through the dark streets of predawn Portsmouth. They had been laboring all night, and their tiredness was now showing as the old coachman urged them on, just a little farther, until they reached their destination and a long-deserved rest.

The passenger also was tired. The road had been rough after the long rains, and his sleep had often been interrupted, as the carriage wheels had been bounced and jostled about by the deep potholes scattered along the mud-strewn road. Now he could hear the distinct whiney sound of the wheels running along the hardened stone pavement, and he knew this long journey was almost over. But for him, it was just a prelude for an even longer journey ahead. A journey not by land in a horse-drawn carriage but by a wood-and-iron vessel that would plow through the forlorn seas by an endless wind blowing on its taut canvas.

As they rode through town, the urban smells and aroma were distinctly different from the woodsy odor of the long road. Now he could feel the salt air penetrate his nostrils, as well as smell the aroma of early morning ovens baking bread. The passenger also could smell the briny catches of fish being unloaded from the fishing boats returning from all-night fishing expeditions.

A half-mile up from the port, the carriage turned into a private drive that led to a large house set back from the street. The coachman stopped the horses as the passenger slowly climbed out of the compartment, stopping only to restore circulation to his cramped leg joints. The front door to the house opened, and a formally dressed gentleman came out to greet the passenger.

Good day to you, sir, the man said with a respectful bow.

Good day, Jensen. Is Sir John in? the passenger asked.

He’s in the library, sir. You may go right in. I will take care of your bags, Jensen replied. He took the bags from the outstretched arms of the coachman.

The passenger entered the house and went immediately to the library. He had been in this house on many occasions and knew exactly where to go.

Sir John had his back to the room, looking out of a large bay window, when the door opened. Two other gentlemen were seated in comfortable wing-backed chairs when they heard the door open. They both stood up, and Sir John turned as the passenger entered the room.

Ahhh, my dear friend Henry, Sir John started. Come in, please do come in.

The passenger smiled at the greeting. He walked across the library and warmly shook the outstretched hand of his friend.

Sir John, it’s good to see you again. It’s been way too long.

The other two men now faced the passenger. They had never met this man before, although they had heard a lot about him.

Sir John made the introductions. The man named George Wills was dressed in a black suit and ruffled shirt, much the same as Sir John himself. The other man, called Thomas Bonner, was dressed in a bright-blue broadcloth coat trimmed in white. The coat had gold buttons and long tails. He was clad in white breeches and stockings, and his black boots were immaculately shined. The rank insignia he wore showed that he was a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.

The passenger was clad in a similar uniform, except that he was dusty and dirty from the long ride, and his rank was that of a captain in the Royal Navy. His full name was Henry Cato. He had been hired to sail a ship from England through the uncharted Pacific. Bonner was to be his first mate aboard the voyage. Sir John and his partner, George Wills, were financing the journey.

Once the introductions were over, Sir John waved everyone around a table in the center of the room. On the table, next to an oil lamp, was a tattered old chart. Sir John joyfully unrolled the chart so that all could see. The yellowed paper crinkled when he stabbed the chart with his outstretched chubby finger.

Here it is! he shouted, his excitement evident to all in the room. He clucked before continuing. Just like I said it would be. An island standing alone, just waiting for us.

Where did you get this chart, Sir John? Cato asked.

From a Portuguese pilot. He was down on his luck and sold me this chart.

Have the Portuguese ever set foot on this island? Do they know what it contains? Cato continued.

No, Sir John replied. They just made note of the island, but they sailed by at a distance. The pilot said they never set foot at all on it. They have no claim to it.

The following afternoon, Cato and Bonner were at the wharf. They would be getting their first look at the ship they would be commanding on this lonesome journey. The ship they would be taking did not warrant pier space—only the finest ships in the fleet were given that. Cato’s ship was moored in the bay, and all the supplies had to be transported by longboat. The two officers commandeered a passing boat and ordered that they be rowed out to their waiting ship.

The trip was long, and they had to pass many other ships, both merchant ships and ships of war. The clamor was loud as crews worked on their ships: some were loading, while others were discharging their wares. Seamen were dispersed about their ships, chipping and painting the wood sides and metal anchor chains reaching down into the murky depths of the bay.

The sky was gray as clouds, filled with rain, moved in above the bay. A heavy mist rolled over the area, casting an eerie chill to the air and shrouding the distant vessels. The water was becoming choppy, and the little boat swayed. Cato would be glad when he was standing on the deck of his ship. He buttoned his heavy coat to the top button against the cold.

Finally, they arrived at their ship. They came up on its stern, and Cato could barely read the name: HMS Finical. It was much smaller than the other warships in the port. It ran ninety feet in length and twenty-five feet from port to starboard. It had one row of four cannons belowdecks and another row on the main deck—sixteen four-pounders in all. It also had two swivel guns in the bow and four at the stern. Still, they did not expect trouble, and the cannon should be more than enough.

Well, Mr. Bonner, what do you think? the captain asked his mate as they examined the decks of the ship.

The rigging seems to be in good shape, the other officer remarked as he examined the tangle of masts and halyards looming high above the deck.

Aye, the captain replied. Sir John assured me that whatever ship we were given would have the best of everything we could get. But the timbers are seasoned, and she seems to be in order.

The next several weeks were very busy for Cato and Bonner. They had to round up a crew and supply the ship for a journey into unknown lands for an indeterminable amount of time. They had contacted a manning agency to help procure the crew, and after several days, the agency transported most of the men to the decks of the HMS Finical.

Bonner had the crew out on the main deck, inspecting them. They were a motley crew of young boys and old men mixed in with some seasoned hands. Even though both Cato and Bonner were Royal Navy, this particular expedition was privately financed, so they could not get professional sailors to accompany them. They had to make do with whatever type of crew the agency could round up for them.

Have any of you been to sea before? Bonner barked.

Several of the older men and four of the middle-aged men raised their hands. Bonner questioned them on their experiences and assigned positions to each man. After several hours, the crew was all assigned their duties and settled in.

On the afternoon of departure, the crew was all assembled on the deck of the ship. The captain sat in the stern of the cutter, having just left Sir John’s side for the final time before embarking on this journey. He clamored aboard the ship as the boatswain piped his arrival. The rain was coming down in a light drizzle as darkness was settling in. The Finical’s mooring was close to the mouth of the bay, which led into the ocean, and it would not be necessary to do a great deal of tacking to get into open waters. Cato was relieved at that with the amount of inexperienced seamen he had on this voyage.

Cato now stood on the quarterdeck, his favorite position, as he huddled against the cold rain. He looked high above the ship at the tall masts. The large canvas mainsail and the other smaller sails were billowing in the wind. The ship rocked as it tried desperately to slip its mooring. Only the anchor held it in its place. Cato listened to the creaking of the ship and the whistling of the wind.

Man the windlass! Cato shouted. This order was repeated by Bonner as ten strong men grunted and pushed, circling one another, slowly rotating the windlass as it pulled the massive anchor up out of the muddy bay floor. They heard the clanking of the links as the anchor stubbornly gave up its hold on the seabed. The ship at first jolted and then moved out of the bay and into the deep sea, under full sail.

As the great ship moved farther south, the weather cleared. The ship’s prow cut through the waves, and the newer seamen became accustomed to the pitching deck. They learned when to climb the rigging and when to set one sail and furl another. They learned the orders that were given and what actions to take when these orders were given.

Bonner stood next to the captain on the quarterdeck. They rolled with the great ship. A fresh east wind was blowing. The ship sliced through the waves on a starboard tack. The two officers smiled as they spoke of the progress the ship was making.

It won’t be long before we reach our southernmost point, Mr. Bonner, the captain said. Then around the Cape of Good Hope.

Aye, sir, the mate replied. And into seas no Englishman has ever been through before. Bonner pursed his lips. Cato gave him a hard look.

Several weeks later, Cato and Bonner were in Cato’s cabin, going over the charts. The high-ceilinged cabin was located underneath the quarterdeck. It was a fairly large room, in which the captain dined and slept. Using this room, Cato met with his officers while making most of the decisions that affected the men. Cato and Bonner were now joined by the second mate, a tall and lanky man named Seward.

This is our current position, Cato stated, poring over the charts. How is our water situation, Mr. Bonner?

We have to stop off some place, sir. We need more water before we leave known waters. Bonner then continued his briefing. We need more wood for the cooking fires. And the perishables we have are of poor quality. Most of it has already gone bad and is crawling with worms.

Yes, I know, the captain said. We’ll stop off to resupply. I don’t want to take too long, for the wind’s in our favor. But if we must stop, we must. Once we go around the cape, there’s no telling when we will reach land again.

The crew was starting to get edgy. Currently, they were still in known waters, but soon they would be sailing into the unknown. Most seamen were superstitious, and the men aboard the Finical were no different. Several of the men were already getting sick, and some had even been diagnosed with scurvy.

Several of the midshipmen were crowded into a much-smaller cabin than the captain’s. They were seated on benches and several kegs, drinking the well-known sea drink grog.

What kind of journey is this? a short man named Willows asked. Travel off to some godforsaken land nobody even wants. I heard the Portuguese didn’t even want it. Several men murmured after Willows. Even though Willows was small, he was stocky and well-built. He was stronger than most men twice his size, and his arms were as thick as stout timber.

The following afternoon, the ship came within sight of an uninhabited island with a small lagoon. This was a resupply point where ships of all nations plying the seas could pull in to resupply with fresh water, natural fruits and vegetables, wood for cooking fires, and any fresh seafood the men were lucky enough to catch. The captain was planning on staying over for two or three days and gave each man a chance to go ashore with his watch.

Bonner sent Willows and a crew ashore with a launch and several empty water kegs. After they had landed onshore, Willows looked around the uninhabited forest while his men refilled the kegs. He did not want to continue the journey, and he thought that if he could jump ship here, he could hide out indefinitely until the captain tired of searching for him, and then he could just wait for a ship bound for England to land and pick him up.

The first watch to be given shore leave was busy climbing into another launch. They were anxious to get onshore and eat some fresh fruit, and maybe even some fresh seafood.

What’s Willows doing over there? one of the men, at the tiller of the launch, shouted. "Hey, Willows, what are you doing?"

When Willows saw his friend coming after him, he turned and walked back to the beach. He did not want anyone to suspect his plans. Willows then berated his own crew for being too slow.

It was on the morning of the departure when Willows was found to be missing. His watch had been the last watch to get liberty, and since he was not needed for duty, his disappearance had been unnoticed until the ship was preparing to leave. The second mate, Seward, had been the one to report the disappearance.

What in God’s name is wrong with that lad? the captain bellowed when he heard the report. Mr. Seward, take a party ashore and find him.

Seward took some of his men in a launch and went ashore. It took them five hours, but they finally tracked the deserter down and brought him back to the ship. He was so strong and fought so hard it took seven men to get him into irons. He was clasped at both the wrists and the ankles, stripped of his clothing, and brought down to the lowest deck in the bilge, where an iron cage awaited him.

The hold was down deep under the waterline. Willows could smell the disgusting odors of standing water and rotting food, which was all that he was fed. He was not to be given any of the fresh food the crew had scoured from the island.

They were now close to the equator, and the tropical heat was overwhelming. The heat in the bilge was even worse.

None of the men were allowed to see Willows, except the one crew member handpicked by the captain to bring him his food. Willows had chains running from his irons to eyebolts embedded into the ship’s timbers. He could stand if he lowered his head, but he could not walk. The chains only permitted Willows to move one step in each direction.

On the late morning of the sixth day since putting back out to sea, the captain ordered several men to bring seawater down to Willows so he could clean himself and the bilge. All during his confinement, he had not been given any water to wash with. Five days of natural filth added to five days’ worth of human waste, as Willows had not been given any provisions in regards to disposing of his human waste. When nature called, Willows had no choice but to answer where he lay. The men also smuggled down a bottle of rum for the wayward sailor, urging him to drink in order to spare him at least some pain for the punishment that was to come.

Five days for a five-hour delay. That sounds about right, doesn’t it, Mr. Seward? the captain asked his second mate. The captain was in good spirits, but the rest of the ship was in a somber mood.

Aye, sir. ’Tis good, replied Seward without a lot of enthusiasm in his voice. They watched from the quarterdeck as the men brought a glassy-eyed Willows up into the sun. He was shading his eyes after spending five days in almost-complete darkness. Mr. Miller! the captain yelled to another seaman.

Aye, sir, the man responded. He was holding a whip, a leather cat-o’-nine-tails, in his hands. He looked up at the captain as the men fastened Willows to the mast, hanging him by his wrists, with only the tips of his toes touching the deck.

Mr. Miller! the captain again bellowed. Give him twenty-four. And if I sense you being easy on him, you’ll get the same.

Aye, sir, Miller spat out. He loosened the cat in his hand. Miller then stepped behind the naked man, and with the cat spread out behind him, he raised his arm and snapped his wrist as the leather thongs flew forward and slapped against the bare flesh. The splat broke the silence of the hushed ship. Streaks of rich red blood appeared on Willows’s torso. His body shook with the force of the blow, and he screamed out with the pain. The rum he had just had did not help much.

As the punishment continued being administered, Willows’s back became a tattered mass of flesh and blood. Chunks of Willows back became entangled in the leather straps of the cat, and Miller had to repeatedly stop to clear out the bloody skin. It seemed to take forever, but finally, Miller reached number twenty…whack…then twenty-one…whack…and on through to twenty-four.

All finished, sir! Miller hollered up at the quarterdeck.

Very good, Mr. Miller. You did a fine job, the captain said. He turned and went down to his cabin. Several of the men loosened Willows and carried him down to his berth. He was still alive, but just barely. The doctor was already waiting for Willows when they brought him in.

Mr. Seward’s crew was on watch, and he was quietly looking out toward the rolling sea, standing by the lee gangplank, when Bonner came up to him. Willows was part of Seward’s men, under his responsibility. Bonner knew how he felt. Bonner had been to sea for many years. He, too, had men under his command receive harsh punishments under other captains.

I hate that thing. It should be outlawed, Seward spat out. Why don’t they just kill him and get it over with? Just hang him from the yardarms or shoot him or something.

Bonner could feel the tenseness inside the man. He knew that there would be no way he could talk reason. He just let the other man talk his hatred out. He let Seward ramble on.

Chapter Two

Several weeks afte r the flogging, the tiny ship entered the waters of the mighty Pacific Ocean. Almost all the crew stood on deck, lining the gunwales, not knowing what to expect. But the ocean looked the same as the Atlantic. It spread out wide in front of them, giving them a panoramic view of waves filling the ocean, while fluffy white clouds filled the sky. The men were disappointed and finally went about their normal shipboard duties.

Then one day, just as dusk was settling in, the seas began to pick up. The wind also blew harder and started to tear at the canvas sails. A cry for all hands on deck rang out, and the crew members spilled out of their hammocks and filed on deck. Giant waves slammed into the ship, tossing it about as if she were just a wooden block. The sea broke over the prow, spraying water over the entire deck. Men scaled the riggings to their assigned positions, waiting for the orders to furl sails. The wind high above the deck of the ship tore at these men, trying to pull them off.

Several men hung on to the helm, battling the raging seas for control of the vessel. The deck pitched and rolled as the hull would crest a wave, travel down the swell, and then be carried back up the next wave. The men on the riggings battled the strong winds and the heavy, wet canvas, furling the sails as best as they could.

Another wind gust slammed into the canvas, and the ship keeled over onto its port side. One seaman lost his hold and, screaming, was flung into the angry white sea. After battling the wind and the sea for what seemed like forever, the crew was finally able to take in all of the sails except for the fore and main topsails, which were now reefed.

Throughout the night, the ship was battered by maddening seas. Pounding waves caused so much strain on the hull’s seams that the foamy water forced its way inside. Men had to man the pumps all night long to prevent the bilge from filling with water. Most of the men who were not handling the pump or the helm were battened down in the lower decks. They did not want to take a chance in getting washed overboard. They had already lost one man that way.

The whistling of the wind through the sails traveled down below decks, competing with the constant thundering of the waves against the sides of the ship. All the men, even the seasoned salts, were getting sick with all the rocking motions. None among the crew would go topside, and as they vomited one by one, the stench would set the next man off, who would in turn set the next man off as he became sick. The poorly ventilated quarters soon filled with the stench of many sick men to compete with the constant noise and continuous rolling of the ship.

A clap of thunder echoed throughout the Finical. The wind had snapped the mizzenmast in two, sending part of it down on the helmsmen. One died instantly, while the other was washed overboard, finally drowning in the murderous waves about him. When the mast hit, it destroyed the helm wheel, leaving the crew with no way to control the rudder and leaving the ship at the mercy of an unmerciful sea. The officer on watch, Seward, was the only individual left on deck. After he examined the helm, he went below to report to the captain.

So that’s our situation, Captain., Seward explained. The helm is smashed, we cannot control the rudder, and we lost the mizzenmast and two more men.

I see, said the captain. And now nobody is on top decks.

What’s the point? Bonner said. He had already been in the captain’s cabin when Seward reported. We can’t do anything until this storm abates. There’s no sense risking further lives now.

The captain thought deeply. At last, he finally agreed with his officers. There was nothing they could do until the storm was over.

That night had been a very long night for all the crew. The storm continued without letup throughout the hours of darkness. The creaking of the timbers groaned unceasingly. Water seeped through the bilges faster than it could be pumped out. The crew could hear more lumber crack and crash as the giant mainmast snapped, leaving only the forward mast still surviving.

The dawn finally broke as the storm moved on. The captain and his officers came on deck to survey the damage. Even with the wind dying away, the seas still churned with much ferocity. They heard the torn canvas, what was left of it, flapping in the breeze and looked up.

The mainmast was broken and was laid out across the forward deck. The mizzenmast, which had taken two lives with it, had been washed overboard sometime during the night. The body that had been pinned under its massive weight was nowhere to be found; it also had been washed into the sea. Much of the rigging on the remaining mast was tangled in knots. The helm wheel was completely smashed. They would not be able to steer the ship.

God definitely wasn’t watching over us last night, the captain said with disgust.

Oh, I don’t know about that, sir, Mr. Bonner replied. We only lost three crewmen. It could have been a lot worse. The three officers walked around the entire deck, making mental notes of what work was to be done.

It took the crew all of that day and most of the next to get the ship back in some semblance of order. The sailmaker was busy replacing the lost sails, aided by a detail of men assigned to him. The carpenter also was busy with his own detail. They had to replace the mainmast and mizzenmast, as well as jury-rig the helm so they could operate the rudder.

The ship was only powered by the jib sail as they were working.

After a week of their bobbing around the ocean with only the jib sail and headsail to guide them and a temporary helm to steer the rudder, it was the lookout perched on the forward mast who first spotted land. Land ho! he shouted jubilantly. Land three points off the starboard bow!

The men stopped their work and gathered along the starboard gunwales. Seward was on the quarterdeck and rushed down to get the captain from his cabin. Bonner joined them, his spyglass in hand, as they eagerly searched the horizon in the general direction of the lookout’s outstretched arm.

A flock of black terns swooped down from the air, flying around the limping vessel. Some of the birds landed on the tall mast, while others skimmed the sheet of blue water. The men cheered at the sight of the birds. Their presence meant land and fresh food. As the ship closed in on the land, large gulls came out to join their feathered friends.

Within another hour, the island was now looming larger before them. The men could see the high mountains on the northern end and the flatter plateau of the south. The captain ordered that the ship circle the island at a distance of one league off the coast so that they could find a safe anchorage. The slender trunks and green fronds of the coconut trees were clearly visible. Coral reefs surrounded the island, breaking the waves as they crested the shore, causing massive sprays of water to shoot up fifty feet or more.

As the ship sailed up the western shore of the island, waterfalls of fresh water could be seen plunging down the sides of the mountains. At least they have fresh water, the captain remarked to Bonner. The first mate did not reply; he just watched the majestic island as they sailed up the coast.

Do you plan on landing today? Bonner asked his captain. The captain looked toward the setting sun. It was late in the afternoon, and they had no idea of the type of inhabitants this island contained or how they would react to unexpected company.

I feel that one more day won’t hurt us, Mr. Bonner. We will continue staying off the coast at this distance, sailing as long as light allows us. Then we will stop for the night with a full security team manning the guns.

Aye, sir, Bonner replied. I’ll have Mr. Seward stand by with a security team. The two officers continued watching the shore, looking for a safe place to enter.

Before darkness settled in, the wooden ship had rounded the northern point of the island and had already started heading south along the eastern coast. The sound of the surf loomed loud in the men’s ears. They were anxious to land, having now been at sea for over six months.

Sleep was hard for the men that night. They just wanted the darkness to pass so that they could land. Most of the crew was up and about before daybreak, with many perched in the forward mast. They declined a breakfast of stale, tasteless food, their mouths salivating at the sight of fruits hanging from the trees, waiting for the men to pick them.

The headsail and the jib were hoisted as dawn beckoned, and the search for a landing place continued. A slight onshore wind propelled the vessel along, and after another hour, they reached the southernmost portion of the island.

The captain was still not satisfied with what he saw. The men were getting edgy; they insisted that they had passed many good anchorages. They could not understand why the captain was torturing them with the island so close but refusing to land.

It was fifteen minutes up the western coast when the lagoon beckoned at them. The captain finally found his anchorage. He ordered the headsail to be reefed, slowing the ship down, and ordered a starboard tack right into the mouth of the lagoon. The entryway was a mile across, with reefs breaking the ocean swells on each side. The mouth of the lagoon bent in toward the beach, containing water as still as a mirror.

As they closed the distance to the beach, the lookout spotted the natives on the shore. The natives also spotted these strange intruders and began putting out to sea in their canoes. The captain watched the islanders through his spyglass, not knowing what their intentions were.

Stand by your guns! he hollered.

Bonner repeated the order, taking his position on the main deck. Seward went belowdecks at the foot of the ladderway, passing on the order to his men to ready their cannon. A bustle of activity occurred as the gunports were opened and the loaded cannon barrels moved into position.

A race was now underway as the great ship headed into the lagoon, while hundreds of small canoes set out from the beach to meet it. The tide was coming in, and the ocean waves were pushing the ship into the lagoon. The Finical had this advantage over the canoes: the ship would be sailing with the tide, while the canoes, with their smaller sails and paddlers, had to sail against it.

Men were still stationed in the riggings of the forward mast. The captain would have to direct the ship into the lagoon while also directing the fight against hundreds, perhaps thousands, of natives.

Haul up the foresail! the captain shouted. The momentum of the ship would bring them into the protective lagoon. Men hurriedly yanked on the canvas sail and furled it. The smooth water parted as the prow pushed forward.

Stand by for tack! the captain shouted from the quarterdeck.

Aye, aye, sir! he heard the helmsman respond. The hundreds of canoes were sailing closer, eating up the five miles from the beach to the lagoon’s mouth at a swift, practiced rate.

Two points to port! the captain yelled to the helmsman. The ship started to turn to port, gliding along the watery highway before it. As they rounded the bend, they were now coming straight at the canoes. They could hear the men who were paddling the canoes holler and whoop in their native war cries. They were very menacing in their war paint, and Cato knew this was not a welcoming party.

All the firepower on the Finical was split between the port and starboard sides. Only two swivel guns were placed in the bow, and these were no match for the number of natives coming at them. Cato would have to bring the Finical about so that his broadside cannon could be used.

Ready to come about starboard tack! Ready on the jibs! the captain shouted. Bonner knew the helmsman would have no trouble hearing the captain, but with the noise the natives were making, he was not sure about the men in the forward decks. Seward also let his men know which side of the ship would be facing the enemy.

Haul up the jibs! Ready the anchor! the captain shouted. Bonner repeated the order to furl the jib sails and sent some men to the windlass to ready the anchor. The forward part of the canoe flotilla was now less than a mile from the Finical.

Drop anchor! the captain shouted. The men at the windlass released the anchor and watched it drop into the clear water below. The flukes dug into the ground and stopped the forward movement of the ship. They also dropped a smaller anchor off the stern. The ship was now facing the oncoming natives, her port guns manned and ready for action.

The canoes were now less than half a mile away, now one quarter of a mile. The warriors were chanting in a language foreign to the seamen, keeping time to the beating of drums some of the canoes carried on board. Then with an ear-piercing scream, the natives stood and flung wooden spears with sharp stone tips at the foreign invaders. Most of the spears landed in the water, far short of their intended targets. Several archers launched arrows at the ship. Some of the arrows penetrated the Finical, but none of the crew were hit.

Stand by your guns! the captain ordered. Bonner and Seward were ready. Odd-number guns, be ready! the captain bellowed. He did not want all the cannon to be fired at once; he only wanted two on the top deck and two on the second deck to be fired, as well as the port swivel and one stern swivel. Bonner and Seward passed this order along. On the journey out, they had trained the men, not knowing what they would be coming up against. The training paid off.