as affording in the present instance the most convenient materials for hasty comparison, I find words in common—­not only with those of other divisions of the Pelagian Negroes,* as the inhabitants of the north coast of New Guinea on the one hand, and New Ireland on the other, but also with the Malay and the various Polynesian languages or dialects spoken from New Zealand to Tahiti.** This latter affinity between the woolly and straight-haired sections of oceanic blacks appears to me to render it more curious and unexpected that the language of the Louisiade should completely differ from that of the northern part of Torres Strait,*** the inhabitants of both being connected by strong general similarity and occasionally identity in manners and customs, and having many physical characteristics common to both.  Yet while the natives of the Louisiade use the decimal system of the Malays and Polynesians, the Torres Strait islanders have simple words to express the numerals one and two only, while three is represented by a compound.****

(Footnote.  Natural History of Man by J.C.  Prichard, M.D. 2nd edition page 326.)

(**Footnote.  D’Urville’s Voyage de l’Astrolabe Philologie tome 2.)

(***Footnote.  Jukes’ Voyage of the Fly volume 2 page 274.)

(****Footnote.  These remarks I give as written in my journal, with the sole exception of the term Pelagian Negroes.  The reader is referred to Dr. Latham’s observations on my Vocabularies in the Appendix to this work.)

ATTACK UPON THE SURVEYING BOATS.

July 6th.

Lieutenants Dayman and Simpson, with the pinnace and second galley, returned to the ship after an absence of several days.  On the morning of the 4th, after having spent the night at anchor in one of the bays on the south side of Joannet Island, they were attacked by the natives under the following circumstances:  In the grey of the morning the lookouts reported the approach of three canoes, with about ten men in each.  On two or three persons showing themselves in the bow of the pinnace in front of the rain-awning, the natives ceased paddling, as if baulked in their design of surprising the large boat, but, after a short consultation, they came alongside in their usual noisy manner.  After a stay of about five minutes only they pushed off to the galley, and some more sham bartering was attempted, but they had nothing to give in exchange for the kelumai so much coveted.  In a short time the rudeness and overbearing insolence of the natives had risen to a pitch which left no doubt of their hostile intentions.  The anchor was got up, when some of the blacks seized the painter, and others in trying to capsize the boat brought the gunwale down to the water’s edge, at the same time grappling with the men to pull them out, and dragging the galley inshore towards the shoal water.  The bowman, with the anchor in his hand, was struck on the head with a stone-headed axe, the blow was repeated, but