Excerpt from Wednesday the Tenth: A Tale of the South Pacific
On the eighteenth day out from Sydney, we were cruising under the lee of Erromanga - of course you know Erromanga, an isolated island between the New Hebrides and the Loyalty group - when suddenly our dusky Polynesian boy, Nassaline, who was at the masthead on the lookout, gave a surprised cry of "Boat ahoy " and pointed with his skinny black finger to a dark dot away southward on the horizon, in the direction of Fiji.
I strained my eyes and saw - well, a barrel or something.
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