CHAPTER XXIV.

Success of the “Mohawk.”—Ship “Napoleon.”—Whaling.—Bound to the southward.—Sickness and Death of Mr. L.—Ship “Roscoe.”—Pleasant Island.—Massacre of the “Inga’s” Crew.—Narrow Escape.—Ship “Hannibal.”—Christmas and New-Year.—Ship “William Tell.”—Ship “John Wells.”—Violent Death of Captain Hussey.—Bound for Hong Kong.—H. B. M.’s Brig “Serpent.”—Island of Rota.—Wild Boar.—A general Stampede.—“All Hands and the Cook.”—Man the Victor.—Heavy Gales.—Gad’s Rock.—Formosa.—Bashee Islands.

On Friday, November 12th, soon after leaving Strong’s Island, we gammed with the “Mohawk,” our old friends, and learned that they had taken eight hundred barrels of oil the previous season on Japan. We could not but envy them, as we were one year from home when they sailed. But we felt that if we could but _see_ the whales, we would soon add to the one thousand barrels we had in our hold.

A few days afterward, at Ocean Island, we spoke the ship “Napoleon,” of New Bedford. The following day we raised whales, and, determined to give them battle, lowered four boats. In less than two hours we had three alongside, and at sundown “started the works” with merry hearts. A few more such lowerings would point the old ship’s head homeward.

But for the present we must steer for a southern port. Our second officer, Mr. Lowe, had been failing in health for many months, and our captain determined to make Sydney, New South Wales, that medical advice and treatment might be procured for him. Accordingly, about the 1st of December, we left the Group, bound for Sydney. But a short time elapsed, however, ere we saw that it was of no use; Mr. L. could not live more than a day or two at the farthest. On Saturday, December 4th, he appeared sinking very fast. At his own request we placed him in an arm-chair, that he might, as he said, breathe more freely. With great calmness he described his feelings and symptoms, “gradually growing more chilly, and losing his life by degrees,” as he said. At about 10 P.M. he departed without a struggle. Never did we witness the death-scene where the sufferer was so perfectly composed and resigned. So quietly did his spirit take its flight that it appeared as if he had fallen asleep. Sail was at once reduced, the body laid out, wrapped in a sheet, covered by the American ensign, and placed on the quarter-deck.

The next day, no work, no masthead, no noise; a melancholy stillness pervaded the whole ship. All on board appeared to realize the dispensation that had a second time visited us. We had lost a shipmate that was kind and obliging; an officer that was prompt in the discharge of his duties; a thorough sailor, and a kind, good man—one that was beloved by all his shipmates. At 1 P.M. all hands were called to perform a mournful duty—bury their friend and brother. Our national flag was mournfully waving at half-mast, all sail in, and the ship hove-to. The body was placed upon a plank, with weights attached to its feet. The services were commenced by the captain, who read the one hundred and seventh Psalm, delivered a few excellent remarks, followed by a prayer; and as he repeated the solemn words of the service, “we commit this body to the deep,” the plank was raised, and the body was soon fathoms beneath the “dark blue wave.”

“But when the last great trump shall thrill the grave, And earth’s unnumbered myriads reappear, He, too, shall hear the summons ’neath the wave That now, in silence wraps his sunless bier. And coming forth, in trembling reverence bowed, Unfold the tongueless secrets of his shroud.”

As the necessity for our making a southern port no longer existed, we turned our attention to sperm whales, one of which we captured a few days subsequent to the burial of Mr. L. On Monday, December 13th, we spoke the “Roscoe,” of New Bedford, Captain Hayden, who, being an old chum of our captain, sailed in company with us for several days. This event proved very fortunate for us, as the sequel will show; and afterward, in meditating upon our narrow escape, we could but think that a divine Providence was continually watching over and guarding us.

In company with the “Roscoe,” we made Pleasant Island on Wednesday, December 15th. About 11 A.M., when two or three miles from the land, the “Roscoe” about half a mile ahead of us, we perceived her suddenly heave-to and hoist her ensign half-mast, and union down. This we knew to be a signal of distress, and, fearing they were having some difficulty with the natives and needed our immediate assistance, we cracked on all sail and shortly rounded her stern. Captain Hayden informed us that the brig “Inga,” of New Bedford, Captain Barnes, had been taken here a few days previous by the natives, and all of the crew massacred save two; at the same time bidding us beware of the “copper-skinned rascals,” as he termed them. But his warning came too late, for already were our decks crowded with them. We had noticed, as something remarkable, that, after the “Roscoe” had hoisted her signal of distress, all the canoes left her and made for our ship. Not suspecting any danger, we had allowed them to come on board to the number of about four hundred. We were now in a position of extreme danger. As we afterward learned, it was their fixed intention to take our ship the first opportunity, as they owed us an old grudge for throwing their hogs and cocoanuts overboard when on a previous visit to them. That opportunity now presented itself. We must confess that things began to wear rather an unpleasant appearance, and we felt satisfied that nothing hardly short of a miracle could save us. Seeing and knowing our situation, Captain Hayden promptly came on board, himself and boat’s crew well armed, bringing with him a white man who had resided on the island many years, and who possessed much influence over the natives. It appears he succeeded in reaching the “Roscoe” prior to any of the natives, and informed Captain H. of the taking of the “Inga;” consequently, no natives were allowed to come on board, and they all pulled for our ship. This white man now informed our captain that he had better get all his weapons of defense in order, lead his muskets, etc., and take them into his cabin, “for,” said he, “these natives are determined to take your ship, if possible; they only await the arrival of one of their chiefs, who fancies you insulted him, and who has sworn to kill you with his own hands, to commence their murderous attack. I have some influence with them, and if I can keep them quiet, and get them away before he comes, I will do so; but if he comes to the ship, nothing can save you.”

The reader may rest assured that this news did not tend to allay our fears in the least, yet each one seemed determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. No undue excitement was exhibited; each one was calm, cool, collected, for we knew the first symptom of fear betrayed would be the signal for the work of destruction to commence. Quietly were all the muskets loaded, and our harpoons, lances, boat-hatchets, and other weapons made ready, so that they could be seized should occasion require. Fifteen or twenty minutes of the most intense anxiety to all hands passed, each one hoping something would transpire to cause the natives to leave. The ships were headed off the land, and sail made; still they did not appear inclined to leave, but sat in groups around the deck, intently watching every movement that was made, and earnestly conversing with each other, eying the cutting-spades which hung over the quarter-deck, and evidently longing for some one to commence the fracas. At length a happy thought suggested itself to one of our men. Mounting aloft, he remained a few moments at masthead. Gazing, with great interest apparently, at some object in the far distance, he sang out, with a loud, ringing, joyous voice, “_Sail ho!_ A LARGE MAN-OF-WAR COMING DOWN FROM THE WINDWARD UNDER FULL SAIL!”

This was sufficient. The natives waited not to hear this repeated, but clambered over the side in the greatest hurry and confusion. Each one seemingly endeavored to be first, and in a few moments our decks were perfectly free from them. As the last native left the ship, one thrilling, deafening hurrah went up from all on board. This was caught up on board the “Roscoe,” and returned with a hearty “three times three.”

We congratulated ourselves on our narrow escape from these merciless savages, and could not but feel thankful to Almighty God for his providence in thus rescuing us. It would have been but a short battle had it commenced. As we have before remarked, the natives of this island are very powerful and robust; and their mode of warfare would have been to have seized the crew and thrown them overboard, while those in the canoes would have held the victims under the surface till they were drowned. Although the man who sang out “Sail ho!” from the masthead did not expect to see one when he started to go aloft, yet he did see a sail, which soon came down to us; and, although not a man-of-war, yet we were none the less pleased to see her. It proved to be the whale-ship “Hannibal,” of New London, Captain Lester.

We related to him all the circumstances connected with our late adventures, and he congratulated us heartily upon our narrow escape. The circumstances connected with the taking of the “Inga” were, as nearly as we could learn, as follows: The vessel was near the island, and crowded with natives. While trading with them, Captain Barnes, whether wisely or not we can not say, kept a cutlass in his hand; and, during the transaction of some petty trade, had some high words with a notorious chief; who, fancying himself insulted, seized the cutlass, cut Captain B. through the body, and then tossed him overboard. This was the signal for a general massacre. After killing all but one white man and a native of the Sandwich Islands, whom they took prisoners, they rifled the ship of all they considered valuable, and then attempted to run her ashore. Not succeeding very well themselves, they ordered their prisoners to work the brig to the land, or they would kill them. This they secretly determined not to do; and, bracing the head-yards one way and the after-yards in a contrary direction, caused the brig to remain in nearly a stationary condition. This puzzled them exceedingly; and, fearing a ship might heave in sight, they determined to scuttle her. Accordingly, a chief commenced cutting a hole in her side with an axe, which he let fall overboard after a few strokes. They then determined to set her on fire, which they did, and left for the shore. She probably burned to the water’s edge, as she was never heard from afterward.

We learned that the two prisoners were kept in close confinement on shore, yet kindly treated. We never learned what became of them, yet we trust they were released from the grasp of these murderous villains, as several ships visited the island after having heard of the destruction of the brig, and we know that no whaling captain would leave a thing undone to rescue them.

We took from Pleasant Island two men, one a native of the Azores, or Western Islands, and the other a New Yorker. These men begged the captain to take them with him, as they were afraid to remain on the island since the late massacre.

Christmas-day came round in due season, and, although it did not bring us roast turkey, yet it did sperm whales. We captured two fine ones on that day; and, as we finished stowing them down in the hold, New-Year’s-day came upon us, bringing “more of the same sort,” which proved very acceptable.

On Tuesday, January 4th, we spoke the “William Tell,” of Sag Harbor, Captain Taber, who reported that the “Mohawk” had visited Pleasant Island, and purchased several articles belonging to the ill-fated “Inga.” The natives had taken the chronometer apart, and were wearing the wheels and other parts of it around their necks as ornaments. They also reported that, had we been alone at the time of our late visit to Pleasant Island, we would certainly have lost our ship and our lives; nothing prevented it but our being in company with the “Roscoe.” When we heard this, we could but feel that

“There is a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough hew them how we will.”

The following day we spoke the “John Wells,” of New Bedford, Captain Cross. He reported that a mutiny had occurred on board the “William Penn,” by which Captain Hussey had been murdered by a Kanaka. The murder was committed about 4 A.M. Captain H. was in the vicinity of some of the islands of the Group, and, while engaged in looking over the “weather rail” for land, a Kanaka boat-steerer seized a spade and darted it through him, killing him almost instantly. The body was immediately thrown overboard, and the gang (seven or eight of the crew), led by the Kanaka, commenced their murderous work. They killed the steward and cook, severely wounded the mate and second mate, and then, seemingly actuated by some merciful freak, stopped their bloody performances, and promised to leave the vessel quietly if the officers would allow them to take what they wanted. This request was readily granted, as the peaceable portion of the crew and officers were but too willing to have them leave. They accordingly took a boat, and steered for Sydenham’s Island, where the ringleader belonged. The Kanaka took with him a large sum of money belonging to Captain Hussey, and he had not been on shore twenty-four hours ere he was shot by a beachcomber to obtain possession of it. Thus we see the scoundrel met with his deserts.

Captain Hussey also met with the same fate that he consigned one of his own crew to. He murdered his fellow-man in cold blood, and he, in his turn, died a violent death.

The reader must not think, from reading these scenes of violence and murder, that they were continually occurring in this part of our globe. On the contrary, the natives there are generally well-disposed and peaceable; but at this time the islands were thronged with miserable beachcombers—men whose only object and desire appeared to be blood and plunder. The majority of them were escaped convicts from New South Wales, and a more bloodthirsty set of villains never went unhung.

We were now nearly forty months from home, and we found it necessary to prolong the voyage another season. To do this, however, we must have more provisions (bread, meat, and flour) than we now had on board. These could be obtained more advantageously at Hong Kong than at any other port, and our captain accordingly determined to steer for that port. On Sunday, January 16th, spoke her majesty’s brig of war “Serpent,” S. W. Hammett, acting commander. Captain H. inquired very particularly concerning the late transactions at Pleasant Island. On taking his leave, he expressed his determination to proceed to the Group, visit all the islands, and rid them of the rascally beachcombers that infested them.

We touched at the island of Rota, one of the Ladrones, on Tuesday, January 25th, and procured a quantity of fruit, hogs, etc. Among the _animals_ was a ferocious wild boar, which the natives had captured on the mountains. He was securely fastened when brought on board, but, as no one knew he was wild, the thongs were cut, and he was set at liberty. This was no sooner done than he made a rush at some of the men, who fled in double-quick time. Turning, he played the same game on another group, until he had complete possession of the deck, all hands taking to their heels, clambering into the rigging, on to the rail, water-butt, and any place that was the most convenient, without stopping to _ask questions_. Here was a fix—a wild boar had succeeded in taking the ship! His swinish majesty appeared to enjoy the fun hugely, going about the decks making such observations as suited him best, and driving the other porkers around at his pleasure. Once, however, he over-shot his mark. The cook, ensconced in his galley, with both doors closed, felt secure, and would occasionally push one of them ajar and take a look. Porkey finally discovered this move, and, thinking it an unwarrantable intrusion upon his rights, raised his bristles, showed his teeth, and made for the old doctor. Seeing him coming, the old darkey seized a dipper of scalding-water from his copper, and, as Mr. Hog approached within proper distance, _bristling_ for the fight, gave it to him between the eyes. This was too much for his lordship, and a mode of warfare which he least expected. He did not pay the doctor a second visit alive. A number of plans were now devised for his capture—among the rest, that of _lassoing_ him. Portuguese Manuel, _who knew all about managing wild hogs_, as he said, volunteered to go down upon deck and slip a running bowline over his head. No sooner, however, did his feet touch the deck, than the boar, seemingly mistrusting his evil designs, rushed after him. Away went Manuel, yelling for dear life, with the boar close at his heels. He finally succeeded in mounting the rail, and, thinking the boar still in close pursuit, kept on ascending the rigging with all possible speed, until the mate cried out, and asked him “where he was going?” On hearing this, Manuel looked about him, and, seeing the boar still on deck, descended to the rail, his hair erect, countenance pale (for a Portuguese)—in fact, frightened out of his wits. The crew, scattered about on the rail and in the rigging, presented a truly laughable sight: one or two with their countenances exhibiting the strongest emotions of fear; others with their faces expanded by a broad grin; some cursing the Spaniards for bringing off a “wild boar;” others looking at it as an excellent joke, and laughing heartily at the whole affair. After some time spent in manœuvring, a bowline was slipped over his head, when he was soon choked down, dispatched, and placed in the hands of the cook.

About the 1st of February we experienced a very heavy gale. We were obliged to take our boats in on deck, heave-to, and secure things generally. The steward, not having taken this precaution in regard to his crockery, etc., found it suddenly coming through the pantry door as the ship gave a sudden lurch. The floor was finely strewed with broken dishes, tea, coffee, molasses, and sundry other articles, gloriously mixed in one heterogeneous mass.

On Sunday, February 6th, we sighted Gad’s Rock; also the southern point of the island of Formosa. The next morning the northern Bashee Islands were in sight, bearing W.N.W. Found our reckoning to be latitude 21° 27´ N., longitude 121° 31´ E.