“After a bit the savages sits down in the circle, all of us mortally afeard, while poor young madam begins crying bitterly. We were all of us, ye see, as we expected soon to be with the can'bals––down in the mouth. After a bit in comes Mattee Waboo, the chief as saved us from being killed on the raft, along with a boy carrying Jack's fiddle-case, which he puts on the ground, when the Mattee pointed to it and wanted us to tell him the use on't––for fortinately, as we larnt afterwards, it had been shoved aside as being of no valey, until the chief had overhauled it again, and now brought it afore us.

Honest Jack's face brightened up a bit as he laid hold on his old friend, and as the savages had carried off his keys, why he breaks open the case, and takes out his wi-o-lin, as fresh as when he'd last put it by, with a long store o' fiddle-strings. When Jack, after ros'ning his bow, began to tune a bit, it would have done your hearts good jist to see how the Indees jumped up and got round him. But when Jack struck up the “Sailors' Hornpipe," the savages began shouting with pleasure, and dancing like mad. Well, the news flew like wildfire, as we a'terwards larnt, that among the strangers there was a mighty geolee waukum, or “great spirit.” Well, Jack seeing how the wind lay, and knowing the ways o' the Indees, wouldn't play without they gave him plenty o' sea room, as they got crowding too close agin him. The chiefs soon kept the others off, and Jack began a sort o' die away, “Wapping Old Stairs,” if I 'member rightly, as made the savages as soft as child's milk, until all o' a sudden he strikes up “Off she goes.” Talk of that chap Off-horse, as our booklarned bow'son's mate talks o', as made every body follow his music!––why three years pay to a glass o' grog, it warnt any thing like Jack's power over the savages with his wi-o-lin!”
[The Magic Fiddle, The Gentleman's Magazine, Vol.5, 1839]