According to their original scheme they were to return home from Honolulu, but having come so far they were eager to see more.  They had tasted the dangers and fascination of the life among the wild islands, each so different, and it had only whetted their appetites for what lay still beyond.  The chances of coming so far again were slight; it seemed too good an opportunity to miss.  So Stevenson wrote to the friends at home, whom he longed daily to see:  “Yes—­I own up—­I am untrue to friendship and (what is less, but still considerable) to civilization.  I am not coming home for another year....  But look here and judge me tenderly.  I have had more fun and pleasure of my life these past months than ever before, and more health than any time in ten long years....  And this precious deep is filled with islands which we may still visit, and though the sea is a dreadful place, I like to be there, and like squalls (when they are over) and to draw near to a new island I can not say how much I like....

“Remember me as I was at home, and think of me sea-bathing and walking about, as jolly as a sand boy; you will own the temptation is strong; and as the scheme, bar fatal accidents, is bound to pay into the bargain, sooner or later, it seems it would be madness to come home now, with an imperfect book ... and perhaps fall sick again by autumn.

“It is a singular thing that as I was packing up old papers ere I left Skerryvore, I came on the prophecies of a drunken Highland sibyl, when I was sixteen.  She said I was to be very happy,—­to visit America and to be much upon the sea....  I can not say why I like the sea ... my poor grandfather it is from him I inherit the taste I fancy, and he was around many islands in his day; but I, please God, shall beat him at that before the recall is sounded.”

So the Casco was shipped back to San Francisco, Mrs. Stevenson, senior, returned to Scotland for a visit, and the trading schooner Equator was chartered for a trip among the Marshall, Gilbert, and Samoan Islands.

Just before leaving, the following letter came from Ori, which Stevenson says he would rather have received than written “Red Gauntlet” or the “Sixth AEneid.”

“I make you to know my great affection.  At the hour when you left us, I was filled with tears; my wife Rui Telime, also, and all my household.  When you embarked I felt great sorrow.  It is for this that I went upon the road, and you looked from that ship, and I looked at you on the ship with great grief until you had raised the anchor and hoisted the sail.  When the ship started I ran along the beach to see you still; and when you were in the open sea I cried out to you ‘Farewell Louis,’ and when I was coming back to my house I seemed to hear your voice crying, ’Rui, farewell.’  Afterwards I watched the ship as long as I could until the night fell; and when it was dark I said to myself:  ’If I had wings I should fly to the ship to