Explore "The Call of the South" by Louis Becke on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When I was supercargo of the brig _Palestine_, we were one day beating along the eastern shore of the great island of Tombara (New Ireland) or, as it is now called by its German possessors, _Neu Mecklenburg_, when an accident happened to one of our hands -- a smart young A. B. named Rogers. The brig was "going about" in a stiff squall, when the jib-sheet block caught poor Rogers in the side, and broke three of his ribs.
There were then no white men living on the east coast of New Ireland, or we should have landed him there to recover, and picked him up again on our return from the Caroline Islands, so we decided to run down to Gerrit Denys Island, where we had heard there was a German doctor living. He was a naturalist, and had been established there for over a year, although the natives were as savage and warlike a lot as could be found anywhere in Melanesia.