Nott gives a colour to the transaction—­the ‘cherubim’ must have slept, the ‘flaming sword’ have been sheathed, and another Eden has been lost:  and, what is worse than all, that native simplicity of manners, that purity of morals, and that singleness of heart, which so peculiarly distinguished this little interesting society, are all lost.  They will now be dispersed among the missionary stations as humble dependents, where Kitty Quintal and the rest of them may get ‘food for their souls,’ such as it is, in exchange for the substantial blessings they enjoyed on Pitcairn’s Island.

ADDITIONAL NOTE

In reference to the subject of extraordinary passages made in open boats on the wide ocean, and the note thereon at page 127, the following may be added as another instance, the most painfully interesting, and the most calamitous, perhaps, ever recorded.  It was related to Mr. Bennet, a gentleman deputed by the Missionary Society of London, together with the Rev. Daniel Tyerman, to visit their several stations in the South Sea Islands, by Captain George Pollard, the unfortunate sufferer, whom these gentlemen met with at Raiatea, then a passenger in an American vessel, having a second time lost his ship near the Sandwich Islands.  The narrative is extracted from The Journal of Voyages and Travels, just published, of the two gentlemen above-mentioned, and is as follows:—­

’My first shipwreck was in open sea, on the 20th of November, 1820, near the equator, about 118 degrees W. long.  The vessel, a South Sea whaler, was called the Essex.  On that day, as we were on the look-out for sperm whales, and had actually struck two, which the boats’ crews were following to secure, I perceived a very large one—­it might be eighty or ninety feet long—­rushing with great swiftness through the water, right towards the ship.  We hoped that she would turn aside, and dive under, when she perceived such a baulk in her way.  But no! the animal came full force against our stern-post:  had any quarter less firm been struck, the vessel must have been burst; as it was, every plank and timber trembled, throughout her whole bulk.

’The whale, as though hurt by a severe and unexpected concussion, shook its enormous head, and sheered off to so considerable a distance that for some time we had lost sight of her from the starboard quarter; of which we were very glad, hoping that the worst was over.  Nearly an hour afterwards, we saw the same fish—­we had no doubt of this, from her size, and the direction in which she came—­making again towards us.  We were at once aware of our danger, but escape was impossible.  She dashed her head this time against the ship’s side, and so broke it in that the vessel filled rapidly, and soon became water-logged.  At the second shock, expecting her to go down, we lowered our three boats with the utmost expedition, and all hands, twenty in the whole, got into them—­seven, and