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91 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 1, 2011
The wind off the land has dropped alltogether, Resolution's rigging steady as compass-bearings rules upon the sky. The stillness is intense, tho' for myself, memories of yesterday's shots spoil all peace of mind. We can guess who fired them—but at whom? Why did they stop? Why has Mr Cook not yet returned? In our hearts we suspect he has met his death, This is our tremendous reason for idleness, unable to decide what might be done. Moreover, any false action could be construed by the natives as incivility, if, in fact, he is still alive. Having taken a powder-horn from my pouch to be ready, prudently I slip it back out of sight of the crew.
Captn Clerke objects that Mr Cook could surely have come to no harm, it being barely two weeks since he was ceremoniously welcomd here. Indeed, the islanders robed him then in a cape of feathers plucked from rare parrots—little orange and yellow chaps—to receive him off our ship like a god. Notwithstanding which, something is unquestionably gone wrong, something which we fear to speak of. Neither I, nor any man aboard, can doubt it & a sullen silence locks down, the cosmos fixd around us on this glassy lagoon. (p.21)