The fruits we got here greatly contributed towards the recovery of the Adventure’s sick people; many of them, who had been so ill as not to be able to move without assistance, were, in this short time so far recovered, that they could walk about of themselves. When we put in here, the Resolution had but one scorbutic man on board, and a marine, who had been long sick, and who died the second day after our arrival, of a complication of disorders, without the least mixture of the scurvy. I left Lieutenant Pickersgill, with the cutter, behind the bay, to purchase hogs, as several had promised to bring some down to-day, and I was not willing to lose them.
On the 25th; about noon, Mr Pickersgill returned with eight hogs, which he got at Oaiti-piha. He spent the night at Ohedea, and was well entertained by Ereti, the chief of that district. It was remarkable, that this chief never once asked after Aotouroo, nor did he take the least notice when Mr Pickersgill mentioned his name. And yet M. de Bougainville tells us, this is the very chief who presented Aotourou to him; which makes it the more extraordinary, that he should neither enquire after him now, nor when he was with us at Matavai, especially as they believed that we and M. de Bougainville came from the same country, that is, from Pretane, for so they called our country. They had not the least knowledge of any other European nation, nor probably will they, unless some of those men should return who had lately gone from the isle, of which mention shall be made bye and bye. We told several of them, that M. de Bougainville came from France, a name they could by no means pronounce; nor could they pronounce that of Paris much better; so that it is not likely that they will remember either the one or the other long; whereas Pretane is in every child’s mouth, and will hardly ever be forgotten. It was not till the evening of this day that we arrived in Matavai bay.
 Perhaps few descriptions of natural scenery excel the following, in real poetic effect:—“It was one of those beautiful mornings which the poets of all nations have attempted to describe, when we saw the isle of Otaheite, within two miles before us. The east-wind which had carried us so far, was entirely vanished, and a faint breeze only wafted a delicious perfume from the land, and curled the surface of the sea. The mountains, clothed with forests, rose majestic in various spiry forms, on which we already perceived the light of the rising sun: Nearer to the eye a lower range of hills, easier of ascent, appeared, wooded like the former, and coloured with several pleasing hues of green, soberly mixed with autumnal browns. At their foot lay the plain, crowned with its fertile bread-fruit trees, over which rose innumerable palms, the princes of the grove. Here everything seemed as yet asleep, the morning scarce dawned, and a peaceful shade still rested on the landscape. We discovered, however, a number of houses among