I then went down to the water's edge to see if I could find anything
from the wreck, for the water was smooth, and no longer washed over the
rocks of the island. Except fragments of wood, I perceived nothing
until I arrived at the pool where we were accustomed to bathe; and I
found that the sea had thrown into it two articles of large
dimensions--one was a cask of the size of a puncheon, which lay in
about a foot of water farthest from the seaward; and the other was a
seaman's chest. What these things were I did not then know, and I wish
the reader to recollect that a great portion of this narrative is
compiled from after knowledge. The cask was firm in the sand, and I
could not move it. The chest was floating; I hauled it on the rocks
without difficulty, and then proceeded to open it. It was some time
before I could discover how, for I had never seen a lock, or a hinge in
my life; but at last, finding that the lid was the only portion of the
chest which yielded, I contrived, with a piece of rock, to break it
open. I found in it a quantity of seamen's clothes, upon which I put no
value; but some of the articles I immediately comprehended the use of,
and they filled me with delight. There were two new tin pannikins, and
those would hold water. There were three empty wine bottles, a hammer,
a chisel, gimlet, and some other tools, also three or four
fishing-lines many fathoms long. But what pleased me most were two
knives, one shutting up, with a lanyard sheath to wear round the waist;
and the other an American long knife, in a sheath, which is usually
worn by them in the belt. Now, three or four years back, Jackson had
the remains of a clasp knife--that is, there was about an inch of the
blade remaining--and this, as may be supposed, he valued very much;
indeed, miserable as the article was, in our destitute state it was
invaluable.
This knife he had laid on the rock when fishing, and it had been
dragged into the sea as his line ran out; and he was for many days
inconsolable for its loss. We had used it for cutting open the birds
when we skinned them, and, indeed this remains of a knife had been
always in request. Since the loss of it, we had had hard work to get
the skins off the birds; I therefore well knew the value of these
knives, which I immediately secured. The remainder of the articles in
the chest, which was quite full, I laid upon the rocks, with the
clothes, to dry; of most of them I did not know the use, and
consequently did not prize them at the time. It was not until
afterwards, when I had taken them to my companion, that I learned their
value. I may as well here observe, that amongst these articles were two
books, and, from the positive commands of my companion, not to touch
the book in the cabin, I looked upon them with a degree of awe, and
hesitated upon taking them in my hand; but, at last, I put them out to
dry on the rocks, with the rest of the contents of the chest.
I felt the knives, the blades were sharp; I put the lanyard of the
clasp knife round my neck; the sheath knife, which was a formidable
weapon, I made fast round my waist, with a piece of the fishing lines,
which I cut off; and I then turned my steps towards the cabin, as night
was coming on, though the moon was high in the heavens, and shining
brightly. On my return, I found Jackson in his bed-place; he heard me
come in, and asked me, in a quiet tone, whether I would bring him some
water? I answered,
"No, that I would not, for what he had said about me, and what he would
do, if he got me into his power. I'll tame you," cried I. "I'm master
now, as you shall find."
"You may be," replied he, quickly, "but still, that is no reason why
you should not let me have some water. Did I ever prevent you from
having water?"
"You never had to fetch it for me," I rejoined, "or you would not have
taken the trouble. What trouble would you take for me, if I were blind
now, and not you? I should become of no use to you, and you would leave
me to die. You only let me live that you might make me work for you,
and beat me cruelly. It's my turn now--you're the boy, and I'm the
master."
The reader must remember that I did not know the meaning of the word
"boy"; my idea of it was, that it was in opposition to "master," and
boy, with me, had the same idea as the word "slave."
"Be it so," replied he, calmly. "I shall not want water long."
There was a quietness about Jackson which made me suspect him, and the
consequence was, that although I turned into my bed-place, which was on
the ground at the side of the cabin opposite to his, I did not feel
inclined to go to sleep, but remained awake, thinking of what had
passed. It was towards morning when I heard him move; my face being
turned that way, I had no occasion to stir to watch his motions. He
crept very softly out of his bed-place towards me, listening, and
advancing on his knees, not more than a foot every ten seconds. "You
want me in your grasp," thought I, "come along," and I drew my American
knife from its sheath, without noise, and awaited his approach, smiling
at the surprise he would meet with. I allowed him to come right up to
me; he felt the side of my bed, and then passed his right hand over to
seize me. I caught his right hand with my left, and passing the knife
across his wrist, more than half divided it from his arm. He gave a
shriek of surprise and pain, and fell back.
"He has a knife," exclaimed he, with surprise, holding his severed
wrist with the other hand.
"Yes, he has a knife, and more than one," replied I, "and you see that
he knows how to use it. Will you come again? or will you believe that
I'm master?"
"If you have any charity or mercy, kill me at once," said he, as he sat
up in the moonlight, in the centre of the floor of the cabin.
"Charity and mercy," said I, "what are they? I never heard of them."
"Alas! no," replied he, "I have shewed none--it's a judgment on me--a
judgment on me for my many sins; Lord, forgive me! First my eyes, now
my right hand useless. What next, O Lord of Heaven?"
"Why, your other hand next," replied I, "if you try it again."
Jackson made no reply. He attempted to crawl back to his bed, but,
faint with loss of blood, he dropped senseless on the floor of the
cabin. I looked at him, and satisfied that he would make no more
attempts upon me, I turned away, and fell fast asleep. In about two
hours, I awoke, and looking round, perceived him lying on the floor,
where he had fallen the night before. I went to him and examined
him--was he asleep, or was he dead? He lay in a pool of blood. I felt
him, and he was quite warm. It was a ghastly cut on his wrist, and I
thought, if he is dead, he will never tell me what I want to know. I
knew that he bound up cuts to stop the blood. I took some feathers from
the bed, and put a handful on the wound. After I had done it, I bound
his wrist up with a piece of fishing-line I had taken to secure the
sheath knife round my waist, and then I went for some water. I poured
some down his throat; this revived him, and he opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" said he faintly.
"Where are you?--why, in the cabin," said I.
"Give me some more water."
I did so, for I did not wish to kill him. I wanted him to live, and to
be in my power. After drinking the water he roused himself, and crawled
back to his bed-place. I left him then, and went down to bathe.
The reader may exclaim--What a horrid tyrant this boy is--why, he is as
bad as his companion. Exactly--I was so--but let the reader reflect
that I was made so by education. From the time that I could first
remember, I had been tyrannised over; cuffed, kicked, abused and
ill-treated. I had never known kindness. Most truly was the question
put by me, "Charity and mercy--what are they?" I never heard of them.
An American Indian has kind feelings--he is hospitable and
generous--yet, educated to inflict, and receive, the severest tortures
to and from, his enemies, he does the first with the most savage and
vindictive feelings, and submits to the latter with indifference and
stoicism. He has, indeed, the kindlier feelings of his nature
exercised; still, this changes him not. He has been from earliest
infancy brought up to cruelty, and he cannot feel that it is wrong.
Now, my position was worse. I had never seen the softer feelings of our
nature called into play; I knew nothing but tyranny and oppression,
hatred and vengeance. It was therefore not surprising that, when my
turn came, I did to others as I had been done by. Jackson had no excuse
for his treatment of me, whereas, I had every excuse for retaliation.
He did know better, I did not. I followed the ways of the world in the
petty microcosm in which I had been placed. I knew not of mercy, of
forgiveness, charity, or goodwill. I knew not that there was a God; I
only knew that might was right, and the most pleasurable sensation
which I felt, was that of anxiety for vengeance, combined with the
consciousness of power.
After I had bathed, I again examined the chest and its contents. I
looked at the books without touching them. "I must know what these
mean," thought I, "and I will know." My thirst for knowledge was
certainly most remarkable, in a boy of my age; I presume for the simple
reason, that we want most what we cannot obtain; and Jackson having
invariably refused to enlighten me on any subject, I became most
anxious and impatient to satisfy the longing which increased with my
growth.