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As we drew near, I saw that she was a whaler from the cut of her sails, from her being high out of the water, and the number of boats shaped stem and stern alike. We were now alongside. I told the captain, who asked us what we wanted, how we had been driven out of our course, and begged him to tell me how we could best reach Matua's island.
Captain Grimes gave them some flour and water and biscuit and bread-fruit, and told them how to steer for their island. The canoe was then cast off. From that day to this, I have never been certain whether the island the captain spoke of was Matua's own island, or whether he reached it at all.
The canoe was kept head to the seas, but we made no way, and it was very clear that we were driving before the gale, not back to Matua's island, though where we were going we could not tell. Matua sat steering as calm as possible. He said that he put his trust in God, and did not fear the storm.
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