Close quarters indeed, but not for very long, for on the 3rd of September the schooner again put into Norfolk Island, and on the next Sunday Coley was present at the confirmation of the whole population, excepting the younger children, and at the subsequent Communion.  Strong hopes were then entertained that the Pitcairners, standing as it were between the English and the islanders, would greatly assist in the work of the Gospel, but this plan was found only capable of being very partially carried out.

Off Norfolk Island, he wrote to his brother an account of the way of life on the voyage, and of the people:—­

’They are generally gentle, and seem to cling to one, not with the very independent goodwill of New Zealanders, but with the soft yielding character of the child of the tropics.  They are fond, that is the word for them.  I have had boys and men in a few minutes after landing, follow me like a dog, holding their hands in mine as a little child does with its nurse.

’My manner of life on board is as I described it before.  I eschewed shoes and socks, rather liking to be paddling about all day, when not going on shore, or otherwise employed, which of course made up eight or ten out of the thirteen hours of daylight.  When I went ashore (which I did whenever the boat went), then I put on my shoes, and always swam in them, for the coral would cut my feet to pieces.  Usual swimming and wading attire—­flannel shirt, dark grey trousers, cap or straw hat, shoes, basket round my neck with fish-hooks, or perhaps an adze or two in my hand.  I enjoyed the tropical climate very much—­really warm always in the water or out of it.  On the reefs, when I waded in shallow water, the heat of it was literally unpleasant, more than a tepid bath.’

On the 13th of September, the little missionary vessel came safe into harbour at Auckland, and Coley and his boys—­they were considered especially as his—­took up their quarters at St. John’s College.  All through the voyage he had written the journals here followed for the general benefit of his kindred, and at other leisure moments he had written more personal letters.  On his sister Fanny’s birthday, when the visit to Malicolo was just over, after his birthday wishes, he goes on:—­

’And now, how will you be when this reaches Feniton?  I think of all your daily occupations,—­school, garden, driving, &c.—­your Sunday reading, visiting the cottages, &c., and the very thought of it makes me feel like old times.  When occasionally I dream, or fall into a kind of trance when awake, and fancy myself walking up from the lodge to the house, and old forms and faces rise up before me, I can scarcely contain the burst of joy and happiness, and then I give a shake and say, “Well, it would be very nice, but look about the horizon, and see how many islands you can count!” and then, instead of thoughts of home for myself, I am tempted to induce others to leave their homes, though I don’t really think many men have such a home to leave, or remain so long as I did, one of the home fire-side.