They shot by us like an arrow, though our fellow-voyagers shouted again and again for them to cease paddling.
According to the natives, this was a kind of royal mail-canoe, carrying a message from the queen to her friends in a distant part of the island.
Passing several shady bowers which looked quite inviting, we proposed touching, and diversifying the monotony of a sea-voyage by a stroll ashore.

So, forcing our canoe among the bushes, behind a decayed palm lying partly in the water, we left the old folks to take a nap in the shade, and gallanted the others among the trees, which were here trellised with vines and creeping shrubs.
In the early part of the afternoon, we drew near the place to which the party were going.

It was a solitary house inhabited by four or five old women, who, when we entered, were gathered in a circle about the mats, eating poee from a cracked calabash.

They seemed delighted at seeing our companions, but rather drew up when introduced to ourselves.

Eyeing us distrustfully, they whispered to know who we were.