Before proceeding further I should observe that an inquiry into the names of the common littoral trees, such as “Barringtonia speciosa,” “Morinda citrifolia,” and the species of “Pandanus,” which are yet preserved in the languages of the islands of the Indian Ocean, might be productive of important results. Being unable to follow up this branch of the subject, I would recommend it to some of my readers. As an encouragement, I would point out that there appears to be a resemblance between the names for the pandanus-tree in northern Madagascar, and in the Pacific Islands. Thus the Hoshoa of the Austral Islands, the Darashi of Bougainville Straits, the Harrassas of the Indian Archipelago, and the Vua-tchirié[184] of North Madagascar, may be the same compound word in different forms. Vua, it should be remarked, is a prefix attached to many trees and plants in this part of Madagascar. With this digression, I will now proceed.

Amongst the native names of trees in the Indian or Malay Archipelago which are to be found in an altered form in the islands of Bougainville Straits, I may refer to Kanari, which is the common appellation of “Canarium commune,” in the former region.[185] The kernels of the fruits of this tree furnish a frequent source of food to the Malay races and also to the inhabitants of the Maclay coast of New Guinea, where the tree is known by the similar name of Kengar.[186] In the islands of Bougainville Straits, where the same or an allied species of “Canarium” is found, the fruits of which form a staple article of food, the Malay name of Kanari and the New Guinea name of Kengar have been contracted to Ka-i. . . . The sago-palm (“Sagus,” sp.) affords another instance. It is, according to Crawfurd, the Râmbiya of the Indian Archipelago.[187] Earl informs us that in Kisa, one of the islands of the Sarawati group in the Banda Sea, it is known as the Pihir.[188] On the Maclay coast of New Guinea it is the Buam.[189] In Bougainville Straits it receives two names, Bia and Nami, the former (I think) being applied to the tree and the latter to the sago. . . . Then again, the two similar names, the Katari of Bougainville Straits and the Gutur of the Maclay coast,[190] are applied in both regions to resin-yielding trees which belong, however, to different genera, the Katari being a species of “Calophyllum,” and the Gutur a species of “Canarium.” In both localities the name is also given to the resin itself, which is employed by the natives for various purposes. But the important point is that these two words are merely slightly altered forms of Gâtah, which is the general name for gums and resins in the Indian Archipelago;[191] and I need scarcely add that gutta-percha is but the gâtah of the Pârcha tree, the familiar “Isonandra gutta” of this region.[192] . . . . Some of the names of trees in Bougainville Straits I have been unable to trace further westward than New Guinea. Thus, the breadfruit-tree (“Artocarpus incisa”) is the Balia of Bougainville Straits and the Boli of the Maclay coast of New Guinea.[193]

The term Uri, which is applied in a slightly altered form to different fruits in the Melanesian Islands, would seem to be derived from the Indian Archipelago. Proceeding westward from the Banks Group where Ur is the name of the fruit of “Spondias dulcis,” we find that in New Georgia in the Solomon Islands Ure is a designation for fruit. In the neighbouring islands of Bougainville Straits, several species of “Ficus” and their fruits receive the name of Uri. To the westward of the Solomon Islands we come upon the same term in the Mafoor of New Guinea, where the breadfruit is known as Ur. Lastly, in the island of Ceram in the Indian Archipelago, the fruit of the banana is called Uri.[194]

On this unequivocal evidence of one of the sources of the languages of the islands of Bougainville Straits it is unnecessary to dilate. It should, however, be remembered that other words are distinctly Polynesian in their origin, and must be sought for in the languages of the Pacific groups. Thus, whilst numa, the word for “house,” finds its counterpart in the Malay rumah and the Javanese uma, fale-fale, which also signifies a house, is the vale of the New Hebrides (Lepers Island and Aurora Island), the vale of Fiji, the fale of Samoa and Tonga, and the whare of the Maori. According to Dr. Codrington, these two words signifying a house, fale and ruma, with their various forms, have an interesting distribution. The first belongs to the eastern Pacific, and the second to the western Pacific; but they overlap in the intermediate districts as in the New Hebrides and the Solomon Islands. It is, however, significant that both these words should be included in the language of Bougainville Straits.

I will conclude my remarks on this vocabulary with a reference to the imitative character of the names of some of the animals. In Bougainville Straits, the frog is known as appa-appa in imitation of its cry. For a similar reason it is known in New Britain as rok-rok,[195] in Australia as twonk,[196] and in the Malay Archipelago as codac.[197] The lizard is named kurru-rupu by the natives of these straits, an appellation which is suggested by its cry; in the Malay Archipelago it is known as kikia.[198] The hornbill is called po-po by the natives of Bougainville Straits in imitation of the rushing sound that it makes during its flight, which has been aptly compared by travellers to the noise of a locomotive. For this reason the natives of New Britain term it banga-banga;[199] whilst at Redscar Bay, New Guinea, it is called pawporo.[200] In a like manner the native dog of these straits is named au-au, and the bush-hen (Megapod) kokole; there is, however, no necessity to supplement these more familiar imitative names from the numerous examples in the languages of neighbouring regions. The native names, which the frog and the hornbill have received in the localities alluded to, will serve to show how varied may be the form of the name which has been suggested by the noise or cry of the animal. There would, thus, appear at first sight to be but little connection between the names po-po and banga-banga; yet those persons who have been familiar with the noise made by the hornbill during its flight will recognise these terms as distinctly imitative of such a sound. Again, few would guess that such different sounding names, as appa-appa, rok-rok, twonk, and codac, have been very naturally suggested by the cry of the frog.

CHAPTER XI.
THE JOURNAL OF GALLEGO—PREFATORY REMARKS.

A considerable interest was aroused in the minds of geographers, rather more than a century ago, by the recent discoveries of French and English navigators in that portion of the Western Pacific in which the Solomon Islands are now known to lie. M. M. Buache and Fleurieu (pages 263-265) endeavoured to show that the islands there discovered were none other than the mysterious Islands of Solomon discovered two centuries before by the Spaniards, the existence of which had been long treated as a myth, and in fact, had almost been forgotten. This view was opposed by Mr. Dalrymple, one of the foremost of the English geographers; and it laboured under the serious disadvantage that the only existing narrative of this Spanish voyage, on which such a conclusion could be based, was a very brief and imperfect account incorporated by Dr. Figueroa[201] in a work that was published at Madrid nearly half a century after the return of the voyagers to Peru. There were some reasons for believing that Hernando Gallego, the chief pilot of the expedition, had kept a journal of the voyage;[202] but the geographical writers of the close of last century failed to have access to such an account, and its existence was doubted by some of them. The only other account, worthy of the name, that was known to these writers was one included by Herrera in his “Descripcion de las Indias Occidentales,” a work which was published at Madrid about the year 1601, or more than thirty years after the Spanish voyagers had returned to Peru. But this account was a somewhat vague, general description of the Solomon Islands, which, although it contained a few additional particulars, was of little service to the cartographer.

It appears to have been only in the second quarter of the present century that the existence of a journal written by Gallego became known to geographers. It may seem at first sight difficult to explain the reason of this narrative being so long unknown; but its author tells us in his prologue that it was through fear he did not publish it; and from other circumstances, referred to in the succeeding pages, it may be inferred that pressure was brought to bear on him, and that the journal was intentionally withheld in order to keep Drake, who had recently appeared in the South Sea, in ignorance of the position of these islands. The journal has for this reason always remained in manuscript. The original manuscript was a few years since in the possession of Mr. Amhurst. There is a copy in the library of the British Museum, which was purchased of M. Fr. Michelena y Roiss in 1848;[203] and it is a translation of this copy that is given in great part in the following pages. In undertaking this translation, I have been greatly assisted by my acquaintance with these islands; and I have thus been able to avoid the pitfalls into which the somewhat careless copyist might have led me.

If M. M. Buache and Fleurieu could have had access to this journal of Gallego, they would have been saved much laborious criticism, both on their own part and on the part of others. That they were able to employ the scanty data, furnished by Figueroa, for the identification of the lost Isles of Solomon with the recent discoveries of their own day, is an accomplishment concerning which any adulation on my part would be both unnecessary and unbecoming. Even with the comparative wealth of materials which the journal of Gallego affords, as contrasted with the account of Figueroa, all that remained to be done was to fill in the rude outline originally sketched by the French geographers.

The story of the gradual identification of the Isles of Solomon forms an interesting and instructive episode in the history of geographical discovery. In the sketch which I have given, I have, so to speak, raked up the ashes of a controversy which burnt itself out some generations ago; but the labour expended in its preparation will not have been unprofitable, if I have been successful in placing before my readers a clear and connected account of how the Isles of Solomon were discovered, lost, and found.

THE JOURNAL OF GALLEGO.

We find in the prologue, with which Gallego commences his account of this voyage, an explanation not only of the principal object of the expedition, but also of the motive which led the Spanish navigator to draw up his narrative. It was for the propagation of the Christian faith amongst the peoples of the unknown islands of the West that this expedition was dispatched from the shores of Peru; and it was to guide the missionary to the field of his labour that the chief pilot drew up his relation of the voyage.

“I understand it to be incumbent”—thus Gallego writes—“on the men who follow the nautical profession, and have had the good fortune, in some degree, to take precedence of their fellows, to give an account of their success. And there are many reasons why it is necessary that from the ignorant these things should not be concealed. But for me, Christian piety affords the principal inducement; and especially since it moved the mind of that most Christian and most Catholic monarch, Don Philip, to write to his Governor, the most illustrious Lope Garcia de Castro, that he should convert every infidel to Christ. Imbued with this feeling, I have made it my first object, by means of this relation and of the additions made by me to the sea-chart, to enable the missionaries, who are to guide the infidels into the vineyard of the Lord, to know where these places will be found and to learn how to navigate these seas exposed to the fury of the winds, and how all dangers and enemies may be avoided. This is my design, unless I am otherwise convinced. Let the curious accept this brief discourse. It is from fear that its author has not wished to print it. This is my object: such is my desire. Receive, reader, this token of esteem, and be steadfast in God. Farewell!”

Before proceeding with the journal of Gallego, it is necessary for me to remark that I have relegated to an appendix much of that which is of interest to the geographical student. The reason is an obvious one and needs no further reference, since the narrative often takes the character of a sea-log, and the geographical and critical points involved are necessarily only of special interest.

The Governor, Lope Garcia de Castro, gave orders for the equipment of two ships of the fleet for the discovery of certain islands and a continent (tierra firme) concerning which His Catholic Majesty D. Philip II. had summoned a number of persons versed in mathematics in order to deliberate on the plan to be followed. After selecting the vessels, he nominated as General in command of the expedition his nephew, Alvaro de Mendana; as Commander of the troops (maestre de campo), Pedro de Ortega Valencia; as the Royal Ensign, D. Fernando Enriquez; and lastly, as Chief-Pilot—to quote the words of the journal—“myself, the said Hernando Gallego.”

The number of all that embarked on this voyage, including, besides the soldiers and sailors, four Franciscan friars and the servants, was a hundred. The preparations were made with such alacrity and willingness that the ships were fitted out with a dispatch that seemed scarcely credible; and on the 19th day of Nov., 1566,[204] being Wednesday, the day of St. Isabel, the two ships sailed from Callao, the port of the City of Kings, which is situated, as Gallego remarks, in 12¹⁄₂° S. lat. Shaping their course to the south-west, they had not to allow for the variation of the compass, since the needle pointed direct to the pole; and reference is here made in the journal to the circumstance that in Spain, more particularly in the city of Seville, the needle varied one point to the north-west. Steering in the same southerly and westerly direction until the 27th of the same month, they reached the latitude of 15¹⁄₂°, being by their reckoning 57 leagues[205] due west from the “morro de Uacaxique,” which was in the same latitude.[206] They now shaped their course west, following along the parallel of 15³⁄₄°, because “the Lord President had said that in the latitude of 15°, at a distance of 600 leagues from Peru, there were many rich islands.” With the wind “a long time in the south-east,” they accomplished a usual daily run of from 20 to 30 leagues. By the third of December, they were by their reckoning in the meridian of the bay of Fego,[207] which is stated by Gallego to be situated in 16° north of the equinoctial and 546 leagues due north of their position. On the 7th of the same month, the Chief-Pilot recorded his observation that the needle showed no variation from the pole and that it neither dipped nor tilted up.

“At this time,” he writes, “I inquired of the pilots as to our position; but I only provoked their obstinacy: and we went on our voyage sailing across the ocean to discover land. We noticed the flight of the birds that passed us in the morning and evening, and whence they came, and whither they went towards the setting sun. All this was no certain guide, as some flew north and others south; and there was nothing to justify our pursuing the flying-fish which abounded in those seas.” It is right that I should here allude to the importance attached by the voyagers of this period to the flight of birds which had often guided them to the discovery of new lands. It was for this reason, it will be remembered, that Columbus swerved from his westerly course when approaching the American Continent.

Gallego soon began to lose confidence in the opinion of the Lord President, because pursuing their course along the same parallel of 15³⁄₄° they failed to observe any signs of land. On the 12th of December, being in the meridian of the harbour of La Navidad (a port on the Pacific coast of Mexico, in lat. 19° 12′ N., long. 104° 46′ W.), there was a consultation between Gallego and the other pilots, when their latitudes were found to agree, but the dead reckoning of the pilots was greater. At length, on the 16th of the month, it was resolved by the Chief-Pilot to leave this parallel and head more to the northward, as they were now 620 leagues rather more than less from Peru and there were no signs of their approaching land.

Accordingly the course was altered; and for four days they ran west-by-north reaching the latitude of 13³⁄₄°, and accomplishing 166 leagues. During the 20th and 21st of December they steered north-west for 65 leagues, keeping a good look-out for land, but to no purpose. On the 22nd, after steering to the north-west-by-west for 30 leagues, they reached the parallel of 11°. They then coursed north-west until the 26th, which was St. Stephen’s Day, having gone by their reckoning 95 leagues and attaining, as their observations showed, a latitude rather under nine degrees (nueve grados escasos). It is worthy of note that in the daily record, which was at this time kept by Gallego of the course and distance and of the latitude obtained by observation, it usually happens that the computed latitude is considerably less than that observed.[208] In this journal, however, the latitudes are all those of observation except where it is otherwise mentioned. During the 27th and 28th of December they stood to the west-north-west for 60 leagues; and on the two following days they steered west-by-north for 62 leagues, reaching the latitude of 6¹⁄₄°. It is here recorded that the needle was deflected a third of a point to the north-west. On the last day of the year they sailed 30 leagues to the west, experiencing strong currents.

Hitherto no signs of land had been observed, and, in consequence, symptoms of uneasiness showed themselves amongst the crews. As they sailed along, they were led in their imaginations to believe that they were always on the point of making the land; but no land appeared. “The pilots told me,” writes Gallego in his journal, “that I was the only person who was not disheartened after having sailed so many leagues without seeing land: and when I told them that they would suffer no ill and that, with the favour of God, they would see the land at the end of January, they all kept silent and made no reply.”

The 1st of January, 1567, found the Spanish voyagers steering west along the parallel of 6¹⁄₄°; and in accordance with the opinions of his fellow pilots, Gallego kept this course until the 7th, traversing in the time about 125 leagues.[209] They now experienced unsettled weather, the wind shifting to the north and subsequently to the north-east. Although steering west-by-south, they did not change their latitude as much as they expected; and, on the 10th, after accomplishing 30 leagues on this course during the past three days they found their latitude in 6¹⁄₂°. During the 11th and 12th with a very favourable wind they sailed 55 leagues to the west on the same parallel. Heavy rain-squalls here overtook them; and they ran along under easy sail.

“On this day,” writes Gallego, “they signalled from the “Almiranta” (the general’s ship) to ask where the land should be. I replied that it lay, in my opinion, 300 leagues away; and that at all events we should not sight it until the end of the month. At this time some of the people began to doubt whether we should ever see the land. But I always told them that, if God was with them, it would be His pleasure that they should not suffer ill.” During the 13th they steered west 25 leagues and found themselves in the parallel of 6°. On the following day they ran in the same direction for 30 leagues, experiencing much rain and varying winds. Their water supply was failing, and the minds of many were the more depressed; for these reasons they ran on with eased sheets and did not shorten sail.

But the long-expected land was near, and I will permit Gallego for the time to tell his own story. “On the Thursday the 15th of January, we had heavy showers of rain and such thunder and lightning as we had not seen in all the voyage. We were distant from the land of Peru, on the course which we had steered, 1450 leagues. In the following[210] morning we ran with a light wind 15 leagues south-west-by-west, and were in the latitude of 6¹⁄₂°. A seaman went to the top and discovered land in the shape of a small island, which appeared on the port hand to the south-west-by-west. We were about six leagues from it, because being a low island it could not be seen at a greater distance. Keeping away, we reached it at sunset. This island is low and level. It has many reefs around it, and has quite a bay of the sea in the middle of it. After we had arrived, I found the latitude to be 6³⁄₄°. We were eager to send a boat in; but, however, it was thought best to await the arrival of the ‘Almiranta’ which was much behind us.

“In the meantime seven canoes full of people started from the island. Some turned back to the shore and the remainder came off to the ship. But when they saw so many persons, they returned to the beach and made great bonfires. That night they put up flags, seemingly for the protection of the island. We were not able to determine whether they were mats of palm-leaves or of cotton, they were bleached so white.[211] The people in the canoes were naked and of a tawny hue. When the ‘Almiranta’ arrived, we agreed that no boats should land until the next day, as it was then evening. And when it dawned, it blew so strong from the north-west that we drifted a quarter of a league to leeward of the island. I wished to reach it, but could not, as the wind was so strong that we could carry no sails. I advised that, if we beat up to reach the island with the wind so strong and contrary, the ships might be broken in pieces (on the reefs); that it would not be wise to run the risk of losing all our lives for an island so small; and that seeing that the island was inhabited, the rest could not be far away. Although being so near to this island, we could not get bottom with 200 fathoms.”

The decision of Gallego naturally caused much discontent amongst the crews. “The soldiers murmured”—thus the Journal continues—“because they were unwilling to leave this island, notwithstanding that they would run the chance of losing their lives. Being weary of the voyage, they took no pains to conceal their displeasure. But I cheered them and consoled them with the assurance that they would meet with no misfortune, and that with the grace of God, I would give them more land than they would be able to people; for this island (as I pointed out to them) was not more than five or six leagues in size. I gave it the name of the Isle of Jesus, because we arrived at it on the day after that which we accounted the 15th of January.”[212]

As the Spanish voyagers were now approaching the scene of their future discoveries, their course becomes of peculiar interest to the historical geographer.[213] Continuing their voyage on the 17th of January, they had before them a long and tedious passage, having to contend with contrary winds and being swept north and south in turns by the currents. On the 23rd, they were in the latitude of 6°, and on the 28th in 5¹⁄₂°. At length on Sunday the 1st of February, when they were according to their reckoning 165 leagues from the Isle of Jesus, they discovered two leagues away[214] some banks of reefs with some islets in the middle of them. “These shoals”—as described by Gallego—“ran obliquely from north-east to south-west. We were not able”—so he writes—“to get their extremity within our range of sight; but as far as we could see them they extended more than fifteen leagues. We gave them the name of ‘Los Bajos de la Candelaria,’ because we saw them on Candlemas Eve: and I took the latitude near them, when we lay east and west with their centre, and found it to be 6¹⁄₄°.” On referring to the present Admiralty charts, it will be noticed that the name “Candelaria Reef,” is applied to an atoll lying about eighty miles to the north of the large island of Isabel in the Solomon Group and named “El Roncador” by Maurelle the Spanish navigator in 1781. Now, seeing that this atoll is not more than six miles across, it cannot possibly be identical with the extensive reefs which are above described by Gallego under the name of the Candelaria Shoals. As shown in the appendix,[215] it is highly probable that these shoals are the same with those which lie about 35 miles to the north of the Roncador Reef, where they constitute an atoll fifty miles in width which was discovered by the Dutch navigators Le Maire and Schouten in 1616, and was named “Ontong Java” by Tasman in 1643.

Leaving these shoals, they steered south-west, expecting to sight land, which could not have been, in the opinion of Gallego, more than fifty leagues distant. During the night, however, they had to heave-to on account of the heavy weather; and on the following day, which was the day of our Lady of Candlemas, they experienced the same weather and were obliged to take in all sail. During the next day, which was the 4th of February, the weather improved; and steering at first west-by-north they subsequently stood to the south-west; and as night approached they shortened sail, in the event of there being other reefs and shoals such as those they had already passed. The prevailing winds had been north-west; but on the following day the wind went round to the west and fell very light. For four days they had been unable to take observations on account of the thick weather. On the 5th,[216] their latitude was found in 7° 8´, from which Gallego inferred that in those four days they had drifted fifteen leagues to the south-by-west. They now made sail and headed north.[217] (?)

“This day,” writes Gallego, “was Saturday, the 7th of February, and the 80th day since we set out from Callao, the port of the City of the Kings. In the morning I ordered a seaman to go aloft to the top and scan the south for land, because there seemed to me to be in that quarter an elevated mass; and the seaman reported land. The land soon became visible to us; and a signal of our discovery was made to the ‘Almiranta’ which was half a league from the ‘Capitana’ (Gallego’s vessel). Every one received the news with feelings of great joy and gratitude for the favour which God had granted them through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, the Glorious Mother of God, whom we all believed to be our mediator; and the ‘Te Deum laudamus’ was sung.”

They were distant from the land, when they first saw it, about 15 leagues. It is described in the journal as “very high.” Turning the ships’ heads in that direction, after they had gone 3 or 4 leagues, they discovered much more land belonging to the same island which appeared to be a continent. They did not get up to it until the evening of the next day, which was Sunday the 8th of February.

“Shortly after we arrived,” continues Gallego in his narrative, “many large and small canoes came off to see us, displaying signs of amity. But they did not dare to come alongside the vessels; and as we approached the land, they kept away. However the General threw them some coloured caps, and being thus assured they came alongside the ship. The boat was launched, and in it went Juan Enriquez with eight musketeers and target-men (rodeleros) to see if they could find a port to anchor in, and also to search for the place whence the canoes had come. The rest of the natives became more confident, and some of them came on board the ship. As they behaved well, we gave them things to eat and drink; and they remained on board until it began to grow dark, when they got into their canoes and went ashore. And those who had gone away in the boat, seeing that it was getting dusk, returned without having found any port. As soon as it was dark we stood out to sea, and the natives in the canoes returned to their homes. They told us that for the sake of friendship we should have gone with them, and that they would have entertained us and given us plenty to eat.

“We stood to windward that night with a light wind; and the currents carried us more than three leagues to the west-north-west, bringing us over some reefs on which we might have been lost as the sea was breaking around them. Finding ourselves in seven fathoms of water, we at once made course to stand clear of them. We remained under easy canvas until it dawned, when we saw that the currents had carried us right upon the shoals; and as the sea broke around us, we made more sail. I hailed the ‘Almiranta’ to make the best of her way out of her position among the shoals; and we accordingly stood away until we found a sufficient depth.”

Juan Enriquez was now dispatched in the boat to find a harbour for the ships; but he was deterred by the sight of all the reefs and returned to the ship. He was ordered by the General to go back again and carry out his search, and “I told him”—adds Gallego—“that it was necessary for the safety of the ships that he should find a port without delay.” The position of the Spanish vessels was a truly critical one; and only those who have been similarly situated in a sailing ship in unsurveyed waters, studded with unknown coral reefs, can realise how anxious the moment was.

“Committing ourselves to God”—thus Gallego writes—“I sent a man aloft to the fore-top, and placed another on the bowsprit, and I told them to notice where the shoals were white. The sounding-lead was kept in hand; and in the event of our having to go about or to anchor, we stood by the sheets and bowlines and had the anchor cleared. I steered for the place where we found seven fathoms of water, as it seemed to me that we should not find a less depth. The boat had not yet reached the shore, so I determined to sound and I got twelve fathoms with a clear bottom; and farther on it was deeper and also clear of rocks. Although it was mid-day, a star appeared to us over the entrance of the reef. Taking it as a guide and as a good omen, we were cheered in spirit and became more hopeful. As we proceeded, the water deepened little by little: and I informed the General that we were already clear of the reefs . . . I signalled to the ‘Almiranta’ to follow us. As we neared the harbour where the boat had gone, they signalled to us that they had found a good anchorage. Presently we entered the harbour with the star over the bow, and we anchored, the ‘Almiranta’ entering shortly afterwards. At the entrance of the port is a rock (or islet), in size larger than the ship.

“It was the day of Santa Polonia, the 9th of February. The harbour, which is in the latitude of 7° 50′, we named the port of Santa Isabel del Estrella; and we named the island, Santa Isabel. The Indians called the island Camba; and their cacique is named Billebanarra. This harbour lies nearly in the middle of the north coast of the island, and is 26 leagues north-east and south-west from the reefs.[218] Having disembarked with the other captains, I took possession of the island in the name of His Majesty. A cross was erected: and I chose a convenient place for building a brigantine.”