On board the Bismarck, the commodore shook hands with him, told him he was to be “taken away from all the chiefs with whom he had been accustomed,” and had him taken to the wardroom under guard.  The next day he was sent to sea in the Adler.  There went with him his brother Moli, one Meisake, and one Alualu, half-caste German, to interpret.  He was respectfully used; he dined in the stern with the officers, but the boys dined “near where the fire was.”  They come to a “newly-formed place” in Australia, where the Albatross was lying, and a British ship, which he knew to be a man-of-war “because the officers were nicely dressed and wore epaulettes.”  Here he was transhipped, “in a boat with a screen,” which he supposed was to conceal him from the British ship; and on board the Albatross was sent below and told he must stay there till they had sailed.  Later, however, he was allowed to come on deck, where he found they had rigged a screen (perhaps an awning) under which he walked, looking at “the newly-formed settlement,” and admiring a big house “where he was sure the governor lived.”  From Australia, they sailed some time, and reached an anchorage where a consul-general came on board, and where Laupepa was only allowed on deck at night.  He could then see the lights of a town with wharves; he supposes Cape Town.  Off the Cameroons they anchored or lay-to, far at sea, and sent a boat ashore to see (he supposes) that there was no British man-of-war.  It was the next morning before the boat returned, when the Albatross stood in and came to anchor near another German ship.  Here Alualu came to him on deck and told him this was the place.  “That is an astonishing thing,” said he.  “I thought I was to go to Germany, I do not know what this means; I do not know what will be the end of it; my heart is troubled.”  Whereupon Alualu burst into tears.  A little after, Laupepa was called below to the captain and the governor.  The last addressed him:  “This is my own place, a good place, a warm place.  My house is not yet finished, but when it is, you shall live in one of my rooms until I can make a house for you.”  Then he was taken ashore and brought to a tall, iron house.  “This house is regulated,” said the governor; “there is no fire allowed to burn in it.”  In one part of this house, weapons of the government were hung up; there was a passage, and on the other side of the passage, fifty criminals were chained together, two and two, by the ankles.  The windows were out of reach; and there was only one door, which was opened at six in the morning and shut again at six at night.  All day he had his liberty, went to the Baptist Mission, and walked about viewing the negroes, who were “like the sand on the seashore” for number.  At six they were called into the house and shut in for the night without beds or lights.  “Although they gave me no light,” said he, with a smile, “I could see I was in a prison.”