13th July. About ten this morning we sailed from Otahite, leaving our friends, some of them at least, I really believe, personally sorry for our departure. Our nearest friends came on board at this critical time, except only Tubourai and Tamio; we had Oborea, Otheothea, Taysa, Nuna, Tuanne, Matte, Pottatow, Polothearia, etc., on board. When the anchor was weighed they took their leaves tenderly enough, not without plenty of tears, though entirely without that clamorous weeping made use of by the other Indians, several boats of which were about the ship, shouting out their lamentations, as vying with each other, not who should cry most, but who should cry loudest, a custom we had often condemned in conversation with our particular friends, as savouring more of affected than real grief.

Tupia, who after all his struggles stood firm at last in his resolution of accompanying us, parted with a few heartfelt tears, so I judge them to have been by the efforts I saw him make to hide them. He sent by Otheothea his last present, a shirt, to Potamia, Dootahah's favourite; he and I went then to the topmast-head, where we stood a long time waving to the canoes as they went off, after which he came down and showed no further signs of seriousness or concern.

15th. Our Indian often prayed to Tane for a wind, and as often boasted to me of the success of his prayers, which I plainly saw he never began till he perceived a breeze so near the ship that it generally reached her before his prayer was finished.