I'd just come in on the _Flibberty_.

She was on board before I dropped the hook--in that whale-boat of hers with her gang of Tahiti heathens--that big Adamu Adam and the rest.

'Don't drop the anchor, Captain Oleson,' she sang out.

'I want you to get under way for Poonga-Poonga.' I looked to see if she'd been drinking.

What was I to think?
I was rounding up at the time, alongside the shoal--a ticklish place--head-sails running down and losing way, so I says, 'Excuse me, Miss Lackland,' and yells for'ard, 'Let go!' "'You might have listened to me and saved yourself trouble,' says she, climbing over the rail and squinting along for'ard and seeing the first shackle flip out and stop.