“While at dinner off Darnley Island near the Torres Straits, news was brought that Dzum was under the stern in a canoe, shouting out loudly for Dzoka (MacGillivray’s native name), and, on going up I found that he had brought off the barit, which after a deal of trouble I struck a bargain for and obtained.  It was a very fine specimen of Cuscus Maculatus, quite tame and kept in a large cage of split bamboo.  Dzum seemed very unwilling to part with the animal, and repeatedly enjoined me to take great care of it and feed it well, which to please him I promised to do, although I valued it merely for its skin, and was resolved to kill it for that purpose at my first convenience.”

On the other hand, MacGillivray paid great attention to native languages, and collected vocabularies of some value.  To him was entrusted the task of writing an account of the voyage, and it is from his rather dull pages, brightened by illustrations from Huxley’s sketches, that the incidents of the voyage are taken.  The references to Huxley in the narrative are slight, and seem to shew that no great intimacy existed between the two young men, the one a naturalist by profession, the other as yet a surgeon, but more devoted to natural history than the naturalist.  Such references as occur relate to Huxley’s constant occupations on shore, sketching natives and their dwellings, and his apparatus on board for trawling, dredging, and dissecting.

The voyage out was uneventful.  The ship touched at Madeira and at Rio de Janeiro, and then crossed the South Atlantic to Simon’s Town at the Cape of Good Hope, where the first quantity of treasure was to be landed.  There they found the colony distressed by the long continuance of the Kaffir war.  Prices for everything were extortionate, and the colonists had no mind for any affairs than their own, so after a short stay the voyagers were glad to set out for the Mauritius.  That island, although in the possession of Britain, still retained a strong impress of its French occupation, and the travellers were interested by the mixture of population inhabiting it.[B]

“Passing through the closely packed lines of shipping, and landing as a stranger at Port Louis, perhaps the first thing to engage attention is the strange mixture of nations,—­representatives, he might at first be inclined to imagine, of half the countries of the earth.  He stares at a coolie from Madras with a breech-cloth and a soldier’s jacket, or a stately bearded Moor striking a bargain with a Parsee merchant.  A Chinaman with two bundles slung on a bamboo hurries past, jostling a group of young Creole exquisites smoking their cheroots at a corner, and talking of last night’s Norma, or the programme of the evening’s performance at the Hippodrome in the Champ de Mars.  His eye next catches a couple of sailors reeling out of a grogshop, to the amusement of a group of laughing negresses, in white muslin dresses of the latest Parisian fashion,