VOYAGE.
February 17th, 1833.—On board the Schooner Ellen, off Cape Naturaliste, Western Australia.
When there is most to record, it frequently happens that there are less means and fewer opportunities of doing it
I have led so busy a life since I last wrote, that I scarcely know what lee way I have made, nor how to bring it up. On Tuesday the 5th, I had no fewer than fifty cases in my list to dispose of; and these I got through on Wednesday evening. On the Thursday I made a fruitless effort to get down to Fremantle, but by delays and adverse winds was obliged to turn back. We had a New Zealander in the boat, and I took much interest in acquiring information from him relative to his country, which I obtained through the instrumentality of Captain Liddle of the Thistle, who speaks the New Zealand language. It appears that this man had fled from his master, and come off in a trading ship,—a common practice. His manner, language, and appearance differed very much from my preconceived notions of the ferocity and cannibalism of the New Zealanders; and yet he acknowledges without hesitation the latter horrifying propensity and practice in propriâ personâ. The countenance of this man, however, is pleasing and good-humoured; his manners obliging; his language very soft, even to effeminacy; his person large and full; and his limbs rounded and smooth: his name is Ech-to-to.
