Chương Chương 4 · Volume 4

The brig put to sea, as I had supposed, in about an hour after he

had left the watch. This was on the twentieth of June. It will be

remembered that I had then been in the hold for three days; and,

during this period, there was so constant a bustle on board, and

so much running to and fro, especially in the cabin and

staterooms, that he had had no chance of visiting me without the

risk of having the secret of the trap discovered. When at length

he did come, I had assured him that I was doing as well as

possible; and, therefore, for the two next days he felt but

little uneasiness on my account—still, however, watching an

opportunity of going down. It was not until the fourth day that

he found one. Several times during this interval he had made up

his mind to let his father know of the adventure, and have me

come up at once; but we were still within reaching distance of

Nantucket, and it was doubtful, from some expressions which had

escaped Captain Barnard, whether he would not immediately put

back if he discovered me to be on board. Besides, upon thinking

the matter over, Augustus, so he told me, could not imagine that

I was in immediate want, or that I would hesitate, in such case,

to make myself heard at the trap. When, therefore, he considered

everything he concluded to let me stay until he could meet with

an opportunity of visiting me unobserved. This, as I said before,

did not occur until the fourth day after his bringing me the

watch, and the seventh since I had first entered the hold. He

then went down without taking with him any water or provisions,

intending in the first place merely to call my attention, and get

me to come from the box to the trap,—when he would go up to the

stateroom and thence hand me down a supply. When he descended for

this purpose he found that I was asleep, for it seems that I was

snoring very loudly. From all the calculations I can make on the

subject, this must have been the slumber into which I fell just

after my return from the trap with the watch, and which,

consequently, must have lasted for more than three entire days

and nights at the very least. Latterly, I have had reason both

from my own experience and the assurance of others, to be

acquainted with the strong soporific effects of the stench

arising from old fish-oil when closely confined; and when I think

of the condition of the hold in which I was imprisoned, and the

long period during which the brig had been used as a whaling

vessel, I am more inclined to wonder that I awoke at all, after

once falling asleep, than that I should have slept

uninterruptedly for the period specified above.

Augustus called to me at first in a low voice and without closing

the trap—but I made him no reply. He then shut the trap, and

spoke to me in a louder, and finally in a very loud tone—still I

continued to snore. He was now at a loss what to do. It would

take him some time to make his way through the lumber to my box,

and in the meanwhile his absence would be noticed by Captain

Barnard, who had occasion for his services every minute, in

arranging and copying papers connected with the business of the

voyage. He determined, therefore, upon reflection, to ascend, and

await another opportunity of visiting me. He was the more easily

induced to this resolve, as my slumber appeared to be of the most

tranquil nature, and he could not suppose that I had undergone

any inconvenience from my incarceration. He had just made up his

mind on these points when his attention was arrested by an

unusual bustle, the sound of which proceeded apparently from the

cabin. He sprang through the trap as quickly as possible, closed

it, and threw open the door of his stateroom. No sooner had he

put his foot over the threshold than a pistol flashed in his

face, and he was knocked down, at the same moment, by a blow from

a handspike.

A strong hand held him on the cabin floor, with a tight grasp

upon his throat; still he was able to see what was going on

around him. His father was tied hand and foot, and lying along

the steps of the companion-way, with his head down, and a deep

wound in the forehead, from which the blood was flowing in a

continued stream. He spoke not a word, and was apparently dying.

Over him stood the first mate, eyeing him with an expression of

fiendish derision, and deliberately searching his pockets, from

which he presently drew forth a large wallet and a chronometer.

Seven of the crew (among whom was the cook, a negro) were

rummaging the staterooms on the larboard for arms, where they

soon equipped themselves with muskets and ammunition. Besides

Augustus and Captain Barnard, there were nine men altogether in

the cabin, and these among the most ruffianly of the brig’s

company. The villains now went upon deck, taking my friend with

them after having secured his arms behind his back. They

proceeded straight to the forecastle, which was fastened down—two

of the mutineers standing by it with axes—two also at the main

hatch. The mate called out in a loud voice: “Do you hear there

below? tumble up with you, one by one—now, mark that—and no

grumbling!” It was some minutes before any one appeared:—at last

an Englishman, who had shipped as a raw hand, came up, weeping

piteously, and entreating the mate, in the most humble manner, to

spare his life. The only reply was a blow on the forehead from an

axe. The poor fellow fell to the deck without a groan, and the

black cook lifted him up in his arms as he would a child, and

tossed him deliberately into the sea. Hearing the blow and the

plunge of the body, the men below could now be induced to venture

on deck neither by threats nor promises, until a proposition was

made to smoke them out. A general rush then ensued, and for a

moment it seemed possible that the brig might be retaken. The

mutineers, however, succeeded at last in closing the forecastle

effectually before more than six of their opponents could get up.

These six, finding themselves so greatly outnumbered and without

arms, submitted after a brief struggle. The mate gave them fair

words—no doubt with a view of inducing those below to yield, for

they had no difficulty in hearing all that was said on deck. The

result proved his sagacity, no less than his diabolical villainy.

All in the forecastle presently signified their intention of

submitting, and, ascending one by one, were pinioned and then

thrown on their backs, together with the first six—there being in

all, of the crew who were not concerned in the mutiny,

twenty-seven.

A scene of the most horrible butchery ensued. The bound seamen

were dragged to the gangway. Here the cook stood with an axe,

striking each victim on the head as he was forced over the side

of the vessel by the other mutineers. In this manner twenty-two

perished, and Augustus had given himself up for lost, expecting

every moment his own turn to come next. But it seemed that the

villains were now either weary, or in some measure disgusted with

their bloody labour; for the four remaining prisoners, together

with my friend, who had been thrown on the deck with the rest,

were respited while the mate sent below for rum, and the whole

murderous party held a drunken carouse, which lasted until

sunset. They now fell to disputing in regard to the fate of the

survivors, who lay not more than four paces off, and could

distinguish every word said. Upon some of the mutineers the

liquor appeared to have a softening effect, for several voices

were heard in favor of releasing the captives altogether, on

condition of joining the mutiny and sharing the profits. The

black cook, however (who in all respects was a perfect demon, and

who seemed to exert as much influence, if not more, than the mate

himself), would listen to no proposition of the kind, and rose

repeatedly for the purpose of resuming his work at the gangway.

Fortunately he was so far overcome by intoxication as to be

easily restrained by the less bloodthirsty of the party, among

whom was a line-manager, who went by the name of Dirk Peters.

This man was the son of an Indian squaw of the tribe of

Upsarokas, who live among the fastnesses of the Black Hills, near

the source of the Missouri. His father was a fur-trader, I

believe, or at least connected in some manner with the Indian

trading-posts on Lewis river. Peters himself was one of the most

ferocious-looking men I ever beheld. He was short in stature, not

more than four feet eight inches high, but his limbs were of

Herculean mould. His hands, especially, were so enormously thick

and broad as hardly to retain a human shape. His arms, as well as

legs, were bowed in the most singular manner, and appeared to

possess no flexibility whatever. His head was equally deformed,

being of immense size, with an indentation on the crown (like

that on the head of most negroes), and entirely bald. To conceal

this latter deficiency, which did not proceed from old age, he

usually wore a wig formed of any hair-like material which

presented itself—occasionally the skin of a Spanish dog or

American grizzly bear. At the time spoken of, he had on a portion

of one of these bearskins; and it added no little to the natural

ferocity of his countenance, which betook of the Upsaroka

character. The mouth extended nearly from ear to ear, the lips

were thin, and seemed, like some other portions of his frame, to

be devoid of natural pliancy, so that the ruling expression never

varied under the influence of any emotion whatever. This ruling

expression may be conceived when it is considered that the teeth

were exceedingly long and protruding, and never even partially

covered, in any instance, by the lips. To pass this man with a

casual glance, one might imagine him to be convulsed with

laughter, but a second look would induce a shuddering

acknowledgment, that if such an expression were indicative of

merriment, the merriment must be that of a demon. Of this

singular being many anecdotes were prevalent among the seafaring

men of Nantucket. These anecdotes went to prove his prodigious

strength when under excitement, and some of them had given rise

to a doubt of his sanity. But on board the Grampus, it seems, he

was regarded, at the time of the mutiny, with feelings more of

derision than of anything else. I have been thus particular in

speaking of Dirk Peters, because, ferocious as he appeared, he

proved the main instrument in preserving the life of Augustus,

and because I shall have frequent occasion to mention him

hereafter in the course of my narrative—a narrative, let me here

say, which, in its latter portions, will be found to include

incidents of a nature so entirely out of the range of human

experience, and for this reason so far beyond the limits of human

credulity, that I proceed in utter hopelessness of obtaining

credence for all that I shall tell, yet confidently trusting in

time and progressing science to verify some of the most important

and most improbable of my statements.

After much indecision and two or three violent quarrels, it was

determined at last that all the prisoners (with the exception of

Augustus, whom Peters insisted in a jocular manner upon keeping

as his clerk) should be set adrift in one of the smallest

whaleboats. The mate went down into the cabin to see if Captain

Barnard was still living—for, it will be remembered, he was left

below when the mutineers came up. Presently the two made their

appearance, the captain pale as death, but somewhat recovered

from the effects of his wound. He spoke to the men in a voice

hardly articulate, entreated them not to set him adrift, but to

return to their duty, and promising to land them wherever they

chose, and to take no steps for bringing them to justice. He

might as well have spoken to the winds. Two of the ruffians

seized him by the arms and hurled him over the brig’s side into

the boat, which had been lowered while the mate went below. The

four men who were lying on the deck were then untied and ordered

to follow, which they did without attempting any

resistance—Augustus being still left in his painful position,

although he struggled and prayed only for the poor satisfaction

of being permitted to bid his father farewell. A handful of

sea-biscuit and a jug of water were now handed down; but neither

mast, sail, oar, nor compass. The boat was towed astern for a few

minutes, during which the mutineers held another consultation—it

was then finally cut adrift. By this time night had come on—there

were neither moon nor stars visible—and a short and ugly sea was

running, although there was no great deal of wind. The boat was

instantly out of sight, and little hope could be entertained for

the unfortunate sufferers who were in it. This event happened,

however, in latitude 35 degrees 30’ north, longitude 61 degrees

20’ west, and consequently at no very great distance from the

Bermuda Islands. Augustus therefore endeavored to console himself

with the idea that the boat might either succeed in reaching the

land, or come sufficiently near to be fallen in with by vessels

off the coast.

All sail was now put upon the brig, and she continued her

original course to the southwest—the mutineers being bent upon

some piratical expedition, in which, from all that could be

understood, a ship was to be intercepted on her way from the Cape

Verd Islands to Porto Rico. No attention was paid to Augustus,

who was untied and suffered to go about anywhere forward of the

cabin companion-way. Dirk Peters treated him with some degree of

kindness, and on one occasion saved him from the brutality of the

cook. His situation was still one of the most precarious, as the

men were continually intoxicated, and there was no relying upon

their continued good-humor or carelessness in regard to himself.

His anxiety on my account he represented, however, as the most

distressing result of his condition; and, indeed, I had never

reason to doubt the sincerity of his friendship. More than once

he had resolved to acquaint the mutineers with the secret of my

being on board, but was restrained from so doing, partly through

recollection of the atrocities he had already beheld, and partly

through a hope of being able soon to bring me relief. For the

latter purpose he was constantly on the watch; but, in spite of

the most constant vigilance, three days elapsed after the boat

was cut adrift before any chance occurred. At length, on the

night of the third day, there came on a heavy blow from the

eastward, and all hands were called up to take in sail. During

the confusion which ensued, he made his way below unobserved, and

into the stateroom. What was his grief and horror in discovering

that the latter had been rendered a place of deposit for a

variety of sea-stores and ship-furniture, and that several

fathoms of old chain-cable, which had been stowed away beneath

the companion-ladder, had been dragged thence to make room for a

chest, and were now lying immediately upon the trap! To remove it

without discovery was impossible, and he returned on deck as

quickly as he could. As he came up, the mate seized him by the

throat, and demanding what he had been doing in the cabin, was

about flinging him over the larboard bulwark, when his life was

again preserved through the interference of Dirk Peters. Augustus

was now put in handcuffs (of which there were several pairs on

board), and his feet lashed tightly together. He was then taken

into the steerage, and thrown into a lower berth next to the

forecastle bulkheads, with the assurance that he should never put

his foot on deck again “until the brig was no longer a brig.”

This was the expression of the cook, who threw him into the

berth—it is hardly possible to say what precise meaning intended

by the phrase. The whole affair, however, proved the ultimate

means of my relief, as will presently appear.