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Updated: June 25, 2025
This gentleman is the Honorable McCoy, Chief Magistrate and Governor of Pitcairn Island. He will come along with us to Mangareva. So you see the situation is not so dangerous. He would not make such an offer if he thought he was going to lose his life. Besides, whatever risk there is, if he of his own free will come on board and take it, we can do no less. What do you say for Mangareva?"
"There was a French missionary brought a gang of them there. 'E was Père Roussel, and 'e ran away with 'em because Llewellyn's bloody crowd 'ere tried to steal 'em and sell 'em. They lived at Mangareva with 'im till he died a few years ago, and they never went back." Llewellyn lifted his dour eyes.
Magee of Mangareva, this element of the mysterious is a chief attraction of the Mormon Church. It enjoys some of the status of Freemasonry at home, and there is for the convert some of the exhilaration of adventure. Other attractions are certainly conjoined. Perpetual rebaptism, leading to a succession of baptismal feasts, is found, both from the social and the spiritual side, a pleasing feature.
That's where she'll come from, out of the southeast, hard. It is three hundred miles to Mangareva. Square away for it. There is a beautiful bed for your ship there." The mate shook his head. "Come in to the cabin, and we'll look at the chart," said the captain. McCoy found a stifling, poisonous atmosphere in the pent cabin. Stray waftures of invisible gases bit his eyes and made them sting.
Then bidding good-by to everybody who gathered to see them off, they steered for Pitcairn Island. They soon found that the prevailing wind would not permit them to make that course, and so they laid for Mangareva in 23º south and 134º west, sixteen hundred miles distant. They had to go from 28º south and 110º west, 5º of latitude and 24º of longitude.
Did you ever hear about old Raymond's daughter down at Mangareva?" I had heard the story very often. By means of a forged letter purporting to have been written by her father an old English trader in the Gambier Group Motley had lured the beautiful young half-blood away from a school in San Francisco, and six months afterwards turned her adrift on the streets of Honolulu.
Another hour passed. The three watchers aloft stared intently into the pearly radiance. "What if we miss Mangareva?" Captain Davenport asked abruptly. McCoy, without shifting his gaze, answered softly: "Why, let her drive, captain. That is all we can do. All the Paumotus are before us. We can drive for a thousand miles through reefs and atolls. We are bound to fetch up somewhere."
No, Mangareva is the nearest place for your purpose." "Mangareva it is, then," said Captain Davenport, interrupting the mate's growling objection. "Call the crew aft, Mr. Konig." The sailors obeyed, shuffling wearily along the deck and painfully endeavoring to make haste. Exhaustion was evident in every movement. The cook came out of his galley to hear, and the cabin boy hung about near him.
When Captain Davenport had explained the situation and announced his intention of running for Mangareva, an uproar broke out. Against a background of throaty rumbling arose inarticulate cries of rage, with here and there a distinct curse, or word, or phrase. A shrill Cockney voice soared and dominated for a moment, crying: "Gawd!
"I think it would be better to square away for Mangareva. With that breeze that is coming, you'll be there tomorrow evening." "But what if the fire breaks out? It is liable to do it any moment." "Have your boats ready in the falls. The same breeze will carry your boats to Mangareva if the ship burns out from under."
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