As my curiosity was excited by Mr. Monkhouse’s account of the situation of the man who had been shot, I took an opportunity to go with some others to see it. I found the shed under which his body lay, close by the house in which he resided when he was alive, some others being not more than ten yards distant; it was about 15 feet long, and 11 broad, and of a proportionable height: one end was wholly open, and the other end, and the two sides, were partly enclosed with a kind of wicker work. The bier on which the corps was deposited, was a frame of wood like that in which the sea beds, called cotts, are placed, with a matted bottom, and supported by four posts, at the height of about five feet from the ground. The body was covered first with a matt, and then with white cloth; by the side of it lay a wooden mace, one of their weapons of war, and near the head of it, which lay next to the close end of the shed, lay two cocoa nut-shells, such as are sometimes used to carry water in; at the other end a bunch of green leaves, with some dried twigs, all tied together, were stuck in the ground, by which lay a stone about as big as a cocoa-nut: near these lay one of the young plantain trees, which are used for emblems of peace, and close by it a stone ax. At the open end of the shed also hung, in several strings, a great number of palm-nuts, and without the shed, was stuck upright in the ground, the stem of a plantain tree about five feet high, upon the top of which was placed a cocoa nut-shell full of fresh water: against the side of one of the posts hung a small bag, containing a few pieces of bread-fruit ready roasted, which were not all put in at the same time, for some of them were fresh, and others stale. I took notice that several of the natives observed us with a mixture of solicitude and jealousy in their countenances, and by their gestures expressed uneasiness when we went near the body, standing themselves at a little distance while we were making our examination, and appearing to be pleased when we came away.

Voyaging Accounts