A New Voyage Round the World, in the years 1823, 24, 25, and 26, Vol. 2 — Context and Discussion

Calm and Crisis at Sea

The opening pages of this volume dwell on a prolonged calm that tests the crew's patience. Kotzebue notes that 'sailors only can fully understand the disagreeableness of this situation,' as the usual shipboard activity gives way to idleness and superstition. The author records specific details: the heat is 'almost insupportable,' and some men wish for 'the most violent storm as a change.' This tension between stillness and impending violence recurs throughout the voyage. When a fresh easterly wind finally arrives, it carries the ship into colder latitudes, where the crew begins to experience 'increasing inconveniences from the Northern climate.' Kotzebue's scientific curiosity is evident in the repeated use of the water-machine to measure temperature at depth, finding a drop from 24° to 2° Reaumur. These passages ground the narrative in concrete, sensory experience, contrasting the monotony of calm with the drama of natural phenomena.

The Succession Crisis in the Sandwich Islands

Kotzebue devotes considerable attention to the political situation in the Sandwich Islands following the death of King Tameamea in 1819. He describes the late king's remains being 'cleaned, and divided among his relatives' according to custom, and notes that two persons had been destined for interment with him, but were spared by his express wish. The succession of his son, Rio Rio (Tameamea II), is portrayed as a decline: 'the father's talents were not hereditary,' and the son's 'passion for liquor incapacitated him for ruling.' Kotzebue presents Karemaku, the late king's counsellor, as a stabilizing force who quells an insurrection through 'the influence of his eloquence, and the force of his arms.' However, the author's tone is critical of the new king's dissipation, describing orgies where he 'was frequently known to empty a bottle of rum at a draught.' The account is shaped by Kotzebue's own perspective, and readers should note that the excerpts do not reveal the full outcome of these events.

Forced Feast and the Overthrow of Taboos

In a pivotal episode, Kotzebue recounts how King Rio Rio, in the fifth month of his reign, 'proceeded in a violent and brutal manner' to overthrow the traditional religion. The king invited principal inhabitants to a banquet, and after wine and rum had taken effect, 'females were introduced, and compelled to partake of the feast.' The women 'shrunk with terror from a profanation punishable with death,' but were forced to sit with men and eat pork. Kotzebue interprets this as the king's desire to 'relieve himself and his subjects from ceremonies which he considered useless,' though he adds that the king 'hated the religion of his country, because it laid some restraints upon his inclinations.' The author's language is judgmental—calling the king a 'freethinker in a bad sense'—and the excerpt breaks off before describing the aftermath. This passage illustrates the tension between indigenous customs and external influences, but Kotzebue's own biases must be weighed when assessing the reliability of the account.

Kotzebue's narrative weaves together natural history and political observation, but his perspective is that of a Russian naval officer with clear opinions about the societies he encounters. Readers should attend to the gaps in the excerpts: the full context of the Sandwich Islands' transformation, the fate of Karemaku, and the scientific findings from other regions remain incomplete. This volume rewards those who read with an eye for the author's own cultural assumptions as much as for the events he records.

I often set the second volume of Kotzebue’s voyage beside its elder, the first, and think how quietly they lean on one another. Volumes one and two share a horizon — the same restless Pacific, the same patient faces. Vol. 2 dwells on upheaval after Tameamea’s passing, yet its pulse echoes the earlier volume’s calm beginning. A New Voyage Round the World in the Years 1823, 24, 25, and 26. Vol. 1 — Text and Context holds the morning light; the second, its long afternoon. Together, they breathe like one memory.