May 3rd

Well, we did get off by about 5.30, or, by’r lady! quarter of six: myself on Donald, the huge grey cart-horse, with a shipbag across my saddle bow, Fanny on Musu and Belle on Jack. We were all feeling pretty tired and sick, and I looked like heaven knows what on the cart horse: ’death on the pale horse,’ I suggested - and young Hunt the missionary, who met me to-day on the same charger, squinted up at my perch and remarked, ’There’s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft.’ The boat was ready and we set off down the lagoon about seven, four oars, and Talolo, my cook, steering.