There was no incident until we got within sight of Tahiti. I was
leaning against the bench, watching Peter’s leisurely progress with
the boat. This boat was the one which had been cut in two by the
whale. The other one was finished, painted, and bottom up on the
after house. Captain Nelson meant to trade all his spare boats,
which had been stove, among the islands. Not that those boats were
not good and seaworthy—Peter’s workmanship could not be other than
that; but the captain seemed to think that they were more desirable
for trading purposes than for chasing whales. I did not know about
that, but there was no more chasing whales to be done on that voyage.
Whaleboats were much in demand in all the islands, and would bring
a good price in trade. So these boats, glistening in their coats of
fresh paint, were put on the after house, and covered with an old
sail to keep them from blistering in the hot sun.
Peter had been saying nothing, but pottering pleasantly about his
pleasant work, a half-smile on his leathery face. There was a
fascination for me in watching Peter, and I had said nothing either.
There is always a fascination in watching a thoroughgoing workman,
but especially a boatbuilder or a shipbuilder or a blacksmith; a
real smith, not merely a shoer of horses. It is so with me, at
least, although there is almost as much in watching a really skilful
cabinet-maker like Oman. I suppose the cabinet-maker’s work should
possess more fascination, as such a man has progressed several grades
beyond the others. Perhaps it is a little beyond me, or it may be
because of my contempt for glue. A cabinet-maker uses a deal of glue.
Peter looked up at last, and glanced ahead. When he {344} looked
down at his work again his half-smile had broadened into a grin.
“There ’s Tahiti, lad,” he said.
I nodded. “Yes, I know. There ’s nothing to see yet.”
Peter was bending over his work, and he gave a queer chuckle.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “You never can tell what you may see
until you look. You might see an old friend, Timmie. A real sailor
always knows what shows above the horizon, and sometimes what ’s
beyond, if it ain’t too far.”
This speech of Peter’s nettled me a little, for I thought I was a
real sailor by this time. I looked around carefully. It was pretty
clear, with occasional heavy clouds, and deep shadows under them.
There was one such cloud away down to the northward, and I thought
that I saw a vessel in its shadow. The clouds were moving briskly,
and as I watched, the sun suddenly shone there, and illumined the
topsail yards of a schooner and the upper half of her lower sails. It
was like a spotlight in a theatre, suddenly shoving the vessel into
plain view against the shadows which surrounded her. There was but
one such rig in all the seven seas. It was the Annie Battles. She
had left Papeete within an hour, probably, and was standing to the
northward.
I sighed. “Just our luck,” I said. “If she had only been a few hours
later!”
“Would you call it good luck, or bad, Timmie?”
“I should call it hard luck, Peter. Would n’t you?”
“Well,” he answered slowly, “she ain’t mine, and I don’t believe in
looking for trouble. I suppose Cap’n Coffin calls it hard luck. You
can see for yourself.” And he jerked his head in the direction of the
after house.
There stood Captain Coffin, a glass glued to his eye. He said
nothing, but he had no need to. Anybody could tell from his face what
his thoughts were. {345}
At Papeete we got our water, and our extra casks, although some of
them had to be lashed on deck, as the hold was full. It took several
days to get this done, for extra casks were not plentiful, and the
men could not be denied some liberty ashore. The pleasures that
Papeete offered to our shore-famished men were alluring, and it was
hard to get them back. I could understand this, for I went ashore
too. I managed to resist the allurements of the place, thanks more
to Peter than to any tendency on my own part to asceticism, and I
had a thoroughly good time. When I got back to the ship I found
that Captain Coffin had been making inquiries, and had found that
the Annie Battles, under the name of the Seafoam, had sailed on a
trading trip among the islands to the eastward, the Paumotus and the
Marquesas. He was as excited as a boy, and full of eagerness and glee.
We got our men back at last, and sailed to the northward. I was
surprised at this, for we were bound home, and for the most rapid
passage around the Horn we should have started out to the southward;
but I thought it likely that Captain Coffin had persuaded Captain
Nelson to have a last try at the Battles. If she stopped at the
islands, as she would, making frequent stops, we should be close on
her heels, and might reasonably hope to catch her. At one of the
Marquesas Islands, too, there was a well-known spring of very good
water, emptying on the beach. Whalers often touched there for water,
and it might have been in Captain Nelson’s mind to fill up his casks
there for the long run around the Horn.
The days passed, and nothing happened. Whatever eagerness I had
felt oozed away; but Captain Coffin’s did not, I judged. He was
silent, restless, tense with it, especially as we began to raise the
Paumotus, one after another. These are atolls, with the usual coral
reefs, sea-beach, and lagoon, none of them more than a few feet
above sea level. The topmasts of the Battles would be {346} easily
seen above them, unless some unusually tall coconut trees were in
the way. We did not go far into the archipelago, for it is dangerous
navigation there for a vessel as large as the Clearchus, and one no
more easily manageable. The passages are filled with hidden dangers,
and the currents swift and treacherous.
We had been searching, in a superficial way, for a week or more,
when, one morning, dawn showed us a small atoll, a few miles long.
We heard the dull boom of the surf, and with the growing light
we saw a long white beach, crowned with green vegetation. A few
stunted coco-palms showed their green tufts, and beyond the palms
the familiar topsail yards of the Battles. There was no sign of
habitation, and we found out later that this atoll was uninhabited,
and visited only occasionally by canoe parties from some other atoll,
in search of eggs, or fish, or adventure. At the time it seemed
strange to me that somebody from the crew of the Battles had not seen
us. The Clearchus must have been as familiar to them as the Battles
was to us. Then I concluded that they had not seen us because they
were close under the palms, and had had no lookout to seaward, and
perhaps had been asleep. I was right in one thing: they had been
asleep. They were not asleep now, for, as we worked around to find
the opening into the lagoon, we heard faint noises, as if they were
shouting to one another.
When we reached a point from which we could see into the lagoon, we
saw that the schooner was plainly aground; there were a number of
large canoes drawn up on the shore; and there on the beach was the
crew of the Battles, surrounded by natives, and fighting for their
lives. I heard no guns, and supposed that they must have been lured
ashore by the prospect of trade, and then attacked.
Captain Nelson did nothing immediately, but turned to Captain Coffin.
I chanced to be near them at the time.
“What do you think, Fred?” he asked. “Shall we try {347} to help
your crew there? They ’re no better than pirates, and I ’ve no doubt
the Kanakas have the right of it.” Some particularly villainous
example of thievery on the part of the Battles was probably at the
bottom of the quarrel. “But I suppose we ’ve got to.”
Captain Coffin nodded. “I want to settle their hash myself.”
I was on tiptoe with that laughing exhilaration that always came upon
me before a fight of any kind, and I found that I had been afraid
that Captain Nelson would stay out of it.
I dived below, where I gathered all the arms from the cabin; and,
the steward helping me, I got them on deck. I found three boats
down. They were Mr. Macy’s, Captain Coffin’s, and mine, in which the
captain was going in place of Mr. Brown. There was some danger to
the ship in leaving her so lightly manned, for the islanders might
take it into their heads to attack her; but he took the chance. I
had an oak wagon-spoke in addition to a spade. I had found it among
the firewood taken on at New Bedford. A wagon-spoke is an excellent
weapon, and that was not the only time I used one.
It took us some time to find the opening in the reef. There were
several false leads, and we found the break narrow when we hit upon
it. I wondered that the Battles had been able to get through.
The fighting was going on at the head of the lagoon, a little over
half a mile from the point where we entered, too far off to see
what had been happening. All we could see from that distance was a
confused mass of men, and all we heard was a confused shouting. After
we had straightened out on the course to the beach, I saw nothing but
the backs and the oars of the men before me, Captain Nelson at the
steering oar, and the other boats out of the tail of my eye. We were
a little in advance.
The shouting grew in volume as we approached the {348} shore, but
I heard no white man’s shout. They had no breath to waste. We were
perhaps an eighth of a mile from shore when Captain Nelson spoke
quietly, saying that some twenty of the islanders were swimming out
to meet us.
“Be ready with your knives and spades, boys,” he said. “Don’t let
them get hold of your oars.”
The men were not supposed to have knives—at least, not with sharp
points, but two or three of the Portuguese produced them, and took
them between their teeth; and there were two knives in each boat, and
the hatchet.
However, we pulled away from them and grounded on the beach. The
shock of it very nearly sent me on my back in the bottom of the boat.
I saw Captain Nelson covering our landing with his Spencer, and I
saw him raise it to his shoulder and fire once. Then we tumbled
out, I with my spade and my wagon-spoke. A spear whistled over my
shoulder, making a flesh wound, and I gave a roar, and rushed upon
the irregular line of islanders. As I ran, I remember vaguely that I
laughed and shouted.
I have no clear recollection of what happened, but I do know that
I had no fear of anything, I had an utter insensibility to pain,
and a fierce joy in mere fighting. My wagon-spoke was a more handy
weapon than the spade, which I used to ward off blows aimed at me,
while I wielded the wagon-spoke as a club. It was a very good club,
well-balanced and heavy, with sharp corners on the hub end. I was
pretty strong then, and could swing it to some purpose. The natives—I
do not like to call them savages—had been armed with spears of hard
wood, as dangerous as steel-pointed spears, and with a war-club of
peculiar shape, made of ironwood. Most of them had cast their spears
by this time, and fought with their clubs, much as I did.
I do not know just how many islanders there were, but there must
have been well over a hundred altogether. {349} There were eighteen
of us, and about twenty in the crew of the Battles; but many of the
Battles’ men had been killed or disabled before we got there. There
could not have been more than a half a dozen left on their feet. I
saw Mr. Wallet transfixed by a spear within six feet of me, the spear
in the hands of a gigantic islander. I cannot remember that I felt a
pang of pity when I saw Mr. Wallet go down. I do not think that I had
any feeling whatever, or that I should have had whoever it had been.
The man next to Mr. Wallet was evidently of a different calibre. He
was bleeding from many wounds, and fighting like a fiend. The man
with the spear wrenched it free from Wallet’s body, and lunged at
this man. He leaped forward, tore the spear from the other’s grasp,
and like lightning he plunged it into his body. It went clear through
and came out at the back. It could not be got out again, as there
were deep cuts upon it, making a series of saw-teeth on the edge
of the long blade, and these teeth stuck on the ribs. He left it
sticking there, looked quickly around, and caught sight of Captain
Coffin. Apparently he had not seen him before.
I found out a little later that the man was Drew, but I guessed
as much then. He stood still for a moment, and I saw the changing
expressions chase each other across his face. There was despair—for
an instant—and then a hardening, and the fierce light came back to
his eyes, and a scornful smile curled his lips, but hope was gone.
Here was Coffin. That meant that he would be carried back and hanged
if he survived this fight. He had to die, anyway, and he preferred to
die fighting; but there were two or three of us that he meant to take
with him. His first move was against Captain Coffin, who was engaged
in a hand-to-hand fight with two natives. These natives, I think,
were not much given to hand-to-hand work. They preferred to stand off
at a safe distance from their enemies and call names. In this case
they had depended upon their {350} numbers, and had been drawn into
the close work and could not get out; but they were brave, although
they preferred the method of ambush and massacre.
Up to this time I had been in a condition of exaltation with the
pure love of fighting. Man is a fighting animal. If he were not he
would never have got so far. Whether right or wrong, it seems to me
hopeless to try to crush out that instinct—but that is by the way.
The events just described had made their impression on my eye, but at
the time they made none on my brain. Now I roused from my daze, my
brain resumed its activity with a rush, and I yelled a warning.
Captain Coffin either did not hear me or did not dare to turn his
head. Drew had grabbed up a war-club lying beside a dead savage, and
was trying to get at him, but his way was not clear. I leaped for him
and yelled again. Other islanders were coming to the help of those
engaged with Captain Coffin, and he was becoming the centre of the
fighting. He was much the biggest white man there. Macy was nearly
as tall, but did not give the impression of bigness and power that
Captain Coffin did. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Macy coming up on the
other side of Captain Coffin, and remember wondering what had become
of the Prince. It was the kind of a fight that I had imagined he
would love. At the risk of my life I glanced about, and saw him just
behind me, as if he was following to see that no harm came to me.
There was the gleam of battle in his eye, his face was set, his lips
drawn back in a tiger-snarl, showing his white teeth. They shone in
his ebony face like a light at sea on a dark night.
Captain Coffin might have heard my warning yells, but he gave no
sign. It would have been death for him to look back. Drew was slowly
making his way toward him, striking at the natives who got in his
way. A big native disputed the way, and I got almost within reach.
The islander gave before Drew’s ferocious assault. Drew let {351}
him go, and pressed on toward Captain Coffin. I leaped again, and
got within reach as he was in the act of bringing his club down on
Captain Coffin’s head. I struck with all my might, and the blow went
true. Drew’s wrist was broken, his head was laid open in a long
line, and he tottered. At that instant I heard the dull report of a
Spencer. Drew’s body whirled about, and crumpled in a heap. Captain
Nelson had done it, and the bullet had gone through Drew’s body,
striking down one of the natives.
Relieved of the anxiety of the moment, I dropped my hands, and
drew a long breath. That was no time for dropping my hands, and I
was brought quickly back to the present by the prick of a spear. I
squirmed away, and looked up to see a club descending. There was
no time to use my club, or to raise my spade, which hung in my
left hand. There was a rush beside me, and the Prince, apparently
empty-handed, launched himself at my assailant. My head was saved,
and both went down, just out of my reach. The Prince had broken his
lance, but had saved the blade, which he plunged into the throat of
the islander. At the same instant an ironwood war-club crashed down
on his head.
At that sight my fury returned. I have no knowledge of what followed
in the next half-hour. I knew that not one of the Battles’ crew was
left on his feet, and I knew dimly that Kane was on one side of
me, fighting with a wild joy, and that on the other Mr. Macy was
fighting with equal fury. I have no doubt that he saved my life many
times, for I knew no caution, and my only thought was to avenge the
Prince. Mr. Macy’s fury was of the cold kind—a cool head and a hot
heart—which does so much more damage than a mere blind rage like
mine. At last I realized that the islanders were trying to get at our
boats.
There were five or six times as many of them as of us, but Captain
Nelson managed to keep his force between {352} them and our boats.
None of his men was killed except the Prince, but nearly all were
wounded more or less seriously, and all were weary. I know that, at
last, with returning sanity, I found myself hardly able to lift my
club, and utterly unable to strike again with my reddened spade. We
were being forced back to the boats. It looked like a day for the
islanders, and if they would have let us we would have withdrawn. I
heard nothing but a tumult of sound, and I could not see well.
Suddenly there was a great shout from behind the natives, and I saw
a considerable body of men break through the sparse vegetation which
crowned the beach. It happened before my eyes; a crowd of men—white
men, twenty-five or thirty of them—armed with lances, spades, and
knives, issuing from that tangle to seaward, and rushing down on the
rear of the islanders. They, poor chaps, gave one glance, then broke
and ran. Some of them ran to their canoes, others ran directly into
the water, and swam away, full tilt. The canoes followed, and we let
them go.
I knew we ought to put after them and see that they did no harm to
the ship, but I could not have pulled a pound. Neither could most of
the others. I could only stand there, my hands hanging limp at my
sides, and gaze after the canoes. I watched them out of sight through
the passage to the sea. I was dimly conscious of a young chap who
walked around me, looking me over, but I paid him no attention. At
last he stood still before me, grinning. He poked me in the ribs. I
squirmed, for my ribs were sore.
“Hello, Tim,” he said.
I looked at him then; looked at him long and hard, while he stood and
grinned. It was Jimmy Appleby.
{353}