Revised Jun 19 2021
April 11th. Strong south-east wind. At 8 A.M. the captain of the American ship came on shore. She proved to be the George and Susan, of New Bedford, Captain White, eleven days from Tahiti, and bound on the middle ground. He expressed great commiseration for our mischance, and said that had he been bound to the Sandwich Islands or Tahiti he would willingly have taken us on; but as he was away for his whaling ground he could not offer us any assistance. He gave us some Californian news, and among other things happened to mention, in the hearing of some of the islanders, that lime juice was worth sixty dollars a barrel. The islanders immediately set to work with the intention of filling a few barrels for us, that we might not be entirely unprovided for in case we should arrive at San Francisco before the Noble, which it must be confessed would be placing us in a most awkward predicament. Our intention is to indulge them with the satisfaction of giving it to us, to take it on, and remit the proceeds to the donors.
At noon, the church bell was loudly rung. I ran to learn the occasion, and found that a barque with English colours flying was close to the island. This really created a very great sensation, as there could be but little doubt of the stranger being bound for California, from the number of people that appeared to be on board. The poor women, if it were possible, looked far more melancholy than they did when the former vessel was reported in sight; but as to ourselves we were too gladly anticipating the chance of getting off the island, to follow out the intentions and pursuits which we had originally planned in New Zealand. But at the same time I must say that I shall much regret when I do leave, on account of the great kindness I have received from every one on the island. Their kindness and real hospitality have been unbounded, and I firmly believe that 1 often hurt their feelings by not accepting everything that they offered me.
At 3 P.M. seven of the islanders went off to the English barque in their whale boat, and I accompanied them. At 4 P.M. we boarded her, when she proved to be the barque Colonist, from Adelaide viá Auckland, Captain J. Marshall, with 120 passengers, three months out, and short of provisions. After remaining on board for some time, I informed the captain of our unfortunate (although in one sense of the word fortunate) situation, and begged very hard to obtain a passage from him, which he said was quite out of the question, on account of the crowded state of his vessel. Putting all things together, I really thought that his answer would have been mine, had I been placed in the situation that he was; but, however, being a married man I thought it was my duty to try to the last, which I did, and was again refused. The want of water and provisions appeared to be the great stumbling-block to any of us getting a passage in the barque. I therefore offered to get the islanders off to the vessel the next morning early, to water the vessel and procure whatever provisions could be spared.
About 5 P.M.. I left the vessel, along with the seven natives, in the whale boat, anticipating a more fortunate result in the morning. Upon landing, I was assailed by a storm of questions as to our chances of getting away, which I was unable to answer, for I did not know what they were myself. In the evening while talking to Carleton about the vessel I mentioned the captain’s name; he immediately recognised him as an old acquaintance, having once chartered his former vessel (the Haidè, since lost in the Bay of Honduras, for the purpose of bringing cattle from Sydney to New Zealand. This I looked upon as rather a lucky coincidence, and that Carleton and myself had a better chance of now getting away than we had before. During the evening, I packed up every thing that I had upon the island, which certainly was not much, so that I might at all events be ready.