When I was first learning the ropes as a “recruiter” in the Kanaka
labour trade, recruiting natives to work on the plantations of Samoa and
Fiji, we called at a group of islands called Nisân by the natives,
and marked on the chart as the Sir Charles Hardy Islands. I thought
it likely that I might obtain a few “recruits,” and the captain wanted
fresh provisions.
The group lies between the south end of New Ireland and the north end of
the great Bougainville Island in the Solomon Archipelago, and consists
of six low, well-wooded and fertile islands, enclosed within a barrier
reef, forming a noble atoll, almost circular in shape. All the islands
are thickly populated at the present day by natives, who are peaceable
enough, and engage in _bêche-de-mer_ and pearl-shell fishing. Less than
forty years back they were notorious cannibals, and very warlike, and
never hesitated to attempt to cut off any whaleship or trading vessel
that was not well manned and well armed.
As I had visited the group on three previous occasions in a trading
vessel and was well known to the people, I was pretty sure of getting
some “recruits” for Samoa, for our vessel had a good reputation. So,
lowering our boats, the second mate and I went on shore, and were
pleasantly received. But, alas for my hopes! I could not get a single
native to recruit. They were, they said, now doing so well at curing
_bêche-de-mer_ for a Sydney trading vessel that none of the young men
cared to leave the island to work on a plantation for three years; in
addition to this, never before had food been so plentiful--pigs and
poultry abounded, and turtle were netted by hundreds at a time. In proof
of their assertion as to the abundance of provisions, I bought from
them, for trade goods worth about ten dollars, a boat-load of turtle,
pigs, ducks, fowls, eggs and fish. These I sent off to the ship by the
second mate, and told him to return for another load of bread-fruit,
taro, and other vegetables and fruit. I also sent a note to the captain
by my own boat, telling him to come on shore and bring our guns and
plenty of cartridges, as the islands were alive with countless thousands
of fine, heavy pigeons, which were paying the group their annual visit
from the mountainous forests of Bougainville Island and New Ireland.
They literally swarmed on a small uninhabited island, covered with
bread-fruit and other trees, and used by the natives as a sort of
pleasure resort.
The two boats returned together, and leaving the second mate to buy more
pigs and turtle--for we had eighty-five “recruits” on board to feed, as
well as the ship's company of twenty-eight persons--the skipper and I
started off in my boat for the little island, accompanied by several
young Nisân “bucks” carrying old smooth-bore muskets, for they, too,
wanted to join in the sport I had given them some tins of powder, shot,
and a few hundred military caps. We landed on a beautiful white beach,
and telling our boat's crew to return to the village and help the second
mate, the skipper and I, with the Nisân natives, walked up the bank,
and in a few minutes the guns were at work. Never before had I seen
such thousands of pigeons in so small an area. It could hardly be called
sport, for the birds were so thick on the trees that when a native fired
at haphazard into the branches the heavy charge of shot would bring them
down by the dozen--the remainder would simply fly off to the next tree.
Owing to the dense foliage the skipper and I seldom got a shot at them
on the wing, and had to slaughter like the natives, consoling ourselves
with the fact that every bird would be eaten. Most of them were so fat
that it was impossible to pluck them without the skin coming away,
and from the boat-load we took on board the skip's cook obtained a
ten-gallon keg full of fat.
About noon we ceased, to have something to eat and drink, and chose for
our camp a fairly open spot, higher than the rest of the island, and
growing on which were some magnificent trees, bearing a fruit called
vi. It is in reality a wild mango, but instead of containing the smooth
oval-shaped seed of the mango family, it has a round, root-like and
spiky core. The fruit, however, is of a delicious flavour, and when
fully ripe melts in one's mouth. Whilst our native friends were grilling
some birds, and getting us some young coco-nuts to drink, the captain
and I, taking some short and heavy pieces of wood, began throwing them
at the ripe fruit overhead. Suddenly my companion tripped over something
and fell.
“Hallo, what is this?” he exclaimed, as he rose and looked at the cause
of his mishap.
It was the end of a bar of pig-iron ballast, protruding some inches
out of the soft soil. We worked it to and fro, and then pulled it out.
Wondering how it came there, we left it and resumed our stick-throwing,
when we discovered three more on the other side of the tree; they were
lying amid the ruins of an old wall, built of coral-stone slabs. We
questioned the natives as to how these “pigs” came to be there. They
replied that, long before their time, a small vessel had come into
the lagoon and anchored, and that the crew had thrown the bars of iron
overboard. After the schooner had sailed away, the natives had dived for
and recovered the iron, and had tried to soften the bars by fire in the
hope of being able to turn it into axes, etc.
We accepted the story as true, and thought no more about it, though we
wondered why such useful, compact and heavy ballast should be thrown
away, and when my boat returned to take us to the ship, we took the iron
“pigs” with us.
Arriving at Samoa, we soon rid ourselves of our eighty-five
“blackbirds,” who had all behaved very well on the voyage, and were
sorry to leave the ship; and that evening I paid a visit to an old
friend of mine--an American who kept a large store in Apia, the
principal port and town of Samoa. I was telling him all about our
cruise, when an old white man, locally known as “Bandy Tom,” came up
from the yard, and sat down on the verandah steps near us. Old Tom was a
character, and well known all over Polynesia as an inveterate old loafer
and beachcomber. He was a deserter from the navy, and for over forty
years had wandered about the South Pacific, sometimes working honestly
for a living, sometimes dishonestly, but usually loafing upon some
native community, until they tired of him and made him seek fresh
pastures. In his old age he had come to Samoa, and my friend, taking
pity on the penniless old wreck, gave him employment as night watchman,
and let him hang about the premises and do odd jobs in the day-time.
With all his faults he was an amusing ancient, and was known for his
“tall” yarns about his experiences with cannibals in Fiji.
Bidding me “good-evening,” Bandy Tom puffed away at his pipe, and
listened to what I was saying. When I had finished describing our visit
to Nisân, and the finding of the ballast, he interrupted.
“I can tell you where them 'pigs' come from, and all about
'em--leastways a good deal; for I knows more about the matter than any
one else.”
Parker laughed. “Bandy, you know, or pretend to know, about everything
that has happened in the South Seas since the time of Captain Cook.”
“Ah, you can laugh as much as you like, boss,” said the old fellow
serenely, “but I know what I'm talkin' about I ain't the old gas-bag you
think I am. I lived on Nisân for a year an' ten months, nigh on thirty
years ago, gettin' _bêche-de-mer_ for Captain Bobby Towns of Sydney.”
Then turning to me he added: “I ain't got too bad a memory, for all my
age. I can tell you the names of all the six islands, and how they lies,
an' a good deal about the people an' the queer way they has of catchin'
turtle in rope nets; an' I can tell you the names of the head men that
was there in my time--which was about 'fifty or 'fifty-one. Just you try
me an' see.”
I did try him, and he very soon satisfied me that he had lived on the
Sir Charles Hardy Islands, and knew the place well. Then he told his
story, which I condense as much as possible.
FIRST PART
Bandy was landed at Nisân by Captain Robert Towns of the barque
_Adventurer_ of Sydney, to collect _bêche-de-mer_. He was well received
by the savage inhabitants and provided with a house, and well treated
generally, for Captain Towns, knowing the natives to be cannibals and
treacherous, had demanded a pledge from them that Bandy should not be
harmed, and threatened that if on his return in the following year he
found the white man was missing, he would land his crew, and destroy
them to the last man. Then the barque sailed. A day or so afterwards
Bandy was visited by a native, who was very different in appearance
from the Nisân people. He spoke to the white man in good English, and
informed him that he was a native of the island of Rotumah, but had been
living on Nisân for more than twenty years, had married, had a family,
and was well thought of by the people. The two became great friends, and
Taula, as the Rotumah man was named, took Bandy into his confidence, and
told him of a tragedy that had occurred on Nisân about five or six years
after he (Taula) had landed on the islands. He was one of the crew of a
whaleship which, on a dark night, nearly ran ashore on Nisân, and in the
hurry and confusion of the vessels going about he slipped over the side,
swam on shore through the surf, and reached the land safely.
One day, said Taula, the natives were thrown into a state of wild
excitement by the appearance of a brigantine, which boldly dropped
anchor abreast of the principal village. She was the first vessel
that had ever stopped at the islands, and the savage natives instantly
planned to capture her and massacre the crew. But they resolved to first
put the white men off their guard. Taula, however, did not know this at
the time. With a number of the Nisân people he went on board, taking
an ample supply of provisions. The brigantine had a large crew and was
heavily armed, carrying ten guns, and the natives were allowed to board
in numbers. The captain had with him his wife, whom Taula described as
being quite a young girl. He questioned the natives about pearl-shell
and _bêche-de-mer_ and a few hours later, by personal inspection,
satisfied himself that the atoll abounded with both. He made a treaty
with the apparently friendly people, and at once landed a party to build
houses, etc.
I must now, for reasons that will appear later on, hurry over Taula's
story as told by him to Bandy.
Eight or ten days after the arrival of the brigantine, the shore
party of fourteen white men were treacherously attacked, and thirteen
ruthlessly slaughtered. One who escaped was kept as a slave, and the
brigantine, to avoid capture, hurriedly put to sea.
Six months or so passed, and the vessel again appeared and anchored,
this time on a mission of vengeance. The natives, nevertheless, were not
alarmed, and again determined to get possession of the ship, although
this time her decks were crowded with men. They attacked her in canoes,
were repulsed, returned to the shore and then, with incredible audacity,
sent the white sailor whom they had captured on board the vessel to make
peace. But not for a moment had they relinquished the determination to
capture the vessel, which they decided to effect by treachery, if force
could not be used. What followed was related in detail by Taula to
Bandy.
Parker and I were deeply interested in Bandy's story, and at its
conclusion I asked him if his informant knew the name of the ship and
her nationality.
“Not her name, sir; but she was an American. Taula knew the American
flag, for the ship he ran away from was a Sag harbour whaler. The
pig-iron bars which you found were brought ashore to make a bed for the
_bêche-de-mer_ curing pots. He showed 'em to me one day.”
Both Parker and I were convinced of the truth of Bandy's story, and came
to the conclusion that the unknown brigantine was probably a colonial
trader, which had afterwards been lost with all hands. For we were
both fairly well up in the past history of the South Seas--at least we
thought so--and had never heard of this affair at the Sir Charles Hardy
Group. But we were entirely mistaken in our assumptions.
In the month of April in the year 1906, after a lapse of more than five
and twenty years, the mystery that enshrouded the tragedy of Nisân
was revealed to me by my coming across, in a French town, a small,
time-stained and faded volume of 230 pages, and published by J. and J.
Harper of New York in 1833, and entitled _Narrative of a Voyage to the
Ethiopie and South Atlantic Ocean, Indian Ocean, Chinese Sea, North
and South Pacific Ocean in the years_ 1829, 1830, 1831, by Abby Jane
Morrell, who accompanied her husband, Captain Benjamin Morrell, Junior,
of the schooner _Antarctic_.
Now to her story,
SECOND PART
Opening the faded little volume, the reader sees a wood-engraving of the
authoress, a remarkably handsome young woman of about twenty years of
age, dressed in the quaint fashion of those days. As a matter of fact
she was only four and twenty when her book was published. In a brief
preface she tells us that her object in writing a book was not for the
purpose of exciting interest in her own experiences of a remarkable
voyage, but in the hope that it would arouse philanthropic endeavour to
ameliorate the condition of American seamen. Throughout the volume there
is a vein of deep, yet unobtrusive piety, and the reader is struck with
her self-effacement, her courage, her reverent admiration for her young
sailor husband, and her pride in his gallant ship and sturdy crew of
native-born American seamen. In the _Antarctic_ the young couple sailed
many seas, and visited many lands, and everywhere they seem to have been
the recipients of unbounded hospitality and attention, especially from
their own country people, and English merchants, and naval and military
men. It is very evident--even if only judging from her picture--that she
was a very charming young lady of the utmost vivacity; and in addition
to this, she was an accomplished linguist, and otherwise highly
educated. Her beauty, indeed, caused her many tears, owing to the
“wicked and persistent attentions” of the American consul at Manila.
This gentleman appears to have set himself to work to make Mrs. Morrell
a widow, until at last--her husband being away at sea--she had to be
guarded from his persistent advances by some of the English and American
families resident in Manila. She tells the story in the most naive and
delightful manner, and the reader's heart warms to the little woman. But
I must not diverge from the subject.
“I am,” she says, “the daughter of Captain John Wood, of New York, who
died at New Orleans on the 14th of November, 1811. He was then master
of the ship _Indian Hunter_.... He died when I was so young that if I
pleased myself with thinking that I remember him, I could not have been
a judge of his virtues; but it has been a source of happiness to me that
he is spoken of by his contemporaries as a man of good sense and great
integrity.”
When fifteen years of age Miss Wood met her cousin, Captain Morrell,
a young man who had gained a reputation for seamanship, and as a
navigator. They were mutually attracted to each other, and in a few
months were married. Then he sailed away on a two years' voyage,
returned, and again set out, this time to the little known South Seas.
Absent a year--during which time a son was born to him--he was so
pleased with the financial results of the voyage that he determined on
a second; and his wife insisted on accompanying him, though he pleaded
with her to remain, and told her of the dangers and terrors of a long
voyage in unknown seas, the islands of which were peopled by ferocious
and treacherous cannibals. But she was not to be deterred from sharing
her husband's perils, and with an aching heart took farewell of her
infant son, whom she left in care of her mother, and on 2nd September,
1829, the _Antarctic_ sailed from New York. The cruise was to last two
years, and the object of it was to seek for new sealing grounds in the
Southern Ocean, and then go northward to the Pacific Islands and
barter with the natives for sandal-wood, _bêche-de-mer_ pearls, and
pearl-shell.
The crew of the brigantine were picked men, and all of them gave Morrell
a written pledge to abstain from drinking spirits of any kind during the
entire voyage. Morrell, though a strict disciplinarian, seems to have
had their respect and even affection throughout, and that he was a man
of iron resolution and dauntless courage the book gives ample testimony.
After some months' sealing at the Auckland Islands, and visiting New
Zealand, where the Morrells were entertained by the missionary, John
Williams, the brigantine made a highly successful cruise among the
islands of the South Pacific, and then Morrell went to Manila to dispose
of his valuable cargo. This he did to great advantage, and once more his
restless, daring spirit impelled him tot make another voyage among the
islands. This time, however, he left his wife in Manila, where she soon
found many friends, who protected her from the annoying attentions of
the consul, and nursed her through a severe illness.
“On the seventy-fifth day after the sailing of the _Antarctic?_” she
writes, “as I was looking with a glass from my window, as I had done for
many days previously, I saw my husband's well-known signal at the mast
head of an approaching vessel.... I was no sooner on board than I found
myself in my husband's arms; but the scene was too much for my enfeebled
frame, and I was for some time insensible. On coming to myself, I looked
around and saw my brother, pale and emaciated. My forebodings were
dreadful when I perceived that the number of the crew was sadly
diminished from what it was when I was last on board. I dared not
trust myself to make any inquiries, and all seemed desirous to avoid
explanations. I could not rest in this state of mind, and ventured to
ask what had become of the men. My husband, with his usual frankness,
sat down and detailed to me the whole affair, which was as follows:--
A TALE OF THE OLD TRADING DAYS
“It seems that six weeks after leaving Manila” (here I omit some
unimportant details) “he came to six islands that were surrounded by
a coral reef.” (The Sir Charles Hardy Group.) “Here was a-plenty of
_bêche-de-mer_ and he made up his mind to get a cargo of this, and what
shell he could procure.... On May 21st he sent a boat's crew on shore to
clear away the brush and prepare a place to cure the _bêche-de-mer_. The
natives now came off to the vessel, and seemed quiet, although it was
evident that they had never seen a white man before, and the islands
bore no trace of ever having been visited by civilised men. The people
were a large, savage-looking race, but Mr. Morrell was lulled to
security by their civil and harmless (_sic_) appearance, and their
fondness of visiting the vessel to exchange their fruits for trinkets
and other commodities attractive to the savages in these climes. They
were shown in perfect friendship all parts of the vessel, and appeared
pleased with the attentions paid them.... A boat was sent on shore with
the forge and all the blacksmith's tools, but the savages soon stole the
greater part of them.
“This was an unpropitious circumstance, but Mr. Morrell thought that he
could easily recover them; and to accomplish this, he took six of his
men, well armed, and marched directly to the village where the king
lived. This was a lovely place, formed in a grove of trees. Here he met
two hundred warriors, all painted for battle, armed with bows and arrows
ready for an onset, waving their war plumes, and eager to engage. On
turning round he saw nearly as many more in his rear--it was a critical
moment--the slightest fear was sure death. Mr. Morrell addressed his
comrades, and, in a word, told them that if they did not act in concert,
and in the most dauntless manner, death would be inevitable. He then
threw down his musket, drew his cutlass, and holding a pistol in his
right hand, he pushed for the king, knowing in what reverence savages in
general hold the person of their monarch. In an instant the pistol was
at the king's breast, and the cutlass waved over his head. The savages
had arrowed their bows, and were ready at the slightest signal to have
shot a cloud of missiles at the handful of white men; but in an instant,
when they saw the danger of their king, they dropped their bows to the
ground. At this fortunate moment, the captain marched around the circle,
and compelled those who had come with war-clubs to throw those down
also; all which he ordered his men to secure and collect inta a heap.
The king was then conducted with several of his chiefs on board the
_Antarctic_, and kept until the next day. They were treated with every
attention, but strictly guarded all night. On the following morning he
gave them a good breakfast, loaded them with presents--for which they
seemed grateful, and laboured hard to convince their conqueror that they
were friendly to him and his crew--sent them on shore, together with
some of his men, to go on with the works which had been commenced; but
feeling that a double caution was necessary, he sent a reinforcement
to his men on shore, well armed.... All were cautioned to be on their
guard; but everything was unavailing; for not long after this, a general
attack was made on the men from the woods, in so sudden a manner that
they were overthrown at once. Two of the crew who were in the small
boat, made their escape out of reach of the arrows, and had the good
fortune to pick up three others who had thrown themselves into the water
for safety. On hearing the horrid yells of the savages, the whaleboat
was sent with ten men, who, with great exertions, saved two more of
the crew. The rest all fell, at one untimely moment, victims to savage
barbarity! It was an awful and heart-sickening moment; fourteen of the
crew had perished--they were murdered, mangled, and their corpses
thrown upon the strand without the possibility of receiving the rites
of Christian burial.... Four of the survivors were wounded--the heat was
intolerable--the spirits of the crew were broken down, and a sickness
came over their hearts that could not be controlled by the power of
medicine--a sickness arising from moral causes, that would not yield to
science nor art.
“In this situation Captain Morrell made the best of his way for
Manila.... I grew pale over the narrative; it filled my dreams for many
nights, and occupied my thoughts for many days, almost exclusively....
I dreaded the thought of the mention of the deed, and yet I wished I
had been there. I might have done some good, or, if not, I might have
assisted to dress the wounded, among whom was my own dear, heroic
brother. He received an arrow in the breast, but his good constitution
soon got over the shock; though he was pale even when I saw him, so
many days after the event. My husband had now lost everything but his
courage, his honour, and his perseverance; but the better part of the
community of Manila had become his friends, while the American consul
was delighted with our misfortunes. He was alone!”
THIRD PART
Nothing daunted by this catastrophe Captain Morrell petitioned the
Captain-General of the Philippines for leave to take out a new crew
of seventy additional men--sixty-six Manila men, and four Europeans.
Everyone warned him of the danger of this--no other ship had ever dared
take more than six Manila men as part of her complement, for they were
treacherous, and prone to mutiny. But Morrell contested that he would
be able to manage them and the captain-general yielded. Two English
merchants, Messrs. Cannell and Gellis, generously lent him all the money
he required to fit out, taking only his I.O.U. So:--
“On the 18th July, 1830, the _Antarctic_ again sailed for Massacre
Islands, as my husband had named the group where he lost his men. When
I went on board I found a crew of eighty-five men, fifty-five of them
savages as fierce as those whom we were about to encounter, and as
dangerous, if not properly managed. One would have thought that I should
have shrunk from this assemblage as from those of Massacre Islands, but
I entered my cabin with a light step; I did not fear savage men half
so much as I did a civilised brute. I was with my husband; he was not
afraid, why should I be? This was my reasoning, and I found it safe.
“The schooner appeared as formidable as anything possibly could of her
size; she had great guns, ten in number, small arms, boarding-pikes,
cutlasses, pistols, and a great quantity of ammunition. She was a
war-horse in every sense of the word, but that of animal life, and that
she seemed partially to have, or one would have thought so, to hear
the sailors talk of her.... She coursed over the waters with every
preparation for fight.
“On the 13th of September the _Antarctic_ again reached Massacre
Islands. I could only view the place as a Golgotha; and shuddered as we
neared it; but I could see that most of the old crew who came hither
at the time of the massacre were panting for revenge, although their
captain had endeavoured to impress upon them the folly of gratifying
such a passion if we could gain our purpose by mildness mixed with
firmness.” (I am afraid that here the skipper of the _Antarctic_ was
not exactly open with the little lady. He certainly meant that his crew
should “get even” with their shipmates' murderers, but doubtless told
her that he “had endeavoured,” etc)
“We had no sooner made our appearance in the harbour at Massacre Island,
on the 14th, than we were attacked by about three hundred warriors. We
opened a brisk fire upon them, and they immediately retreated. This was
the first battle I ever saw where men in anger met men in earnest. We
were now perfectly safe; our Manila men were as brave as Caesar; they
were anxious to be landed instantly, to fight these Indians at once.
They felt as much superior, no doubt, to these ignorant savages as the
philosopher does to the peasant. This the captain would not permit; he
knew his superiority while on board his vessel, and he also knew that
this superiority must be, in a manner, lost to him as soon as he landed.
“The firing had ceased, and the enemy had retired, when a single
canoe appeared coming from the shore with one man in it. We could not
conjecture what this could mean. The man was as naked as a savage and as
highly painted, but he managed his paddle with a different hand from the
savages. When he came alongside, he cried out to us in English, and we
recognised Leonard Shaw, one of our old crew, whom we had supposed among
the dead. The meeting had that joyousness about it that cannot be felt
in ordinary life; he was dead and buried, and now was alive again!
We received him as one might imagine; surprise, joy, wonder, took
possession of us all, and we made him recount his adventures, which were
wonderful enough.
“Shaw was wounded when the others were slain; he fled to the woods, and
succeeded at that time in escaping from death. Hunger at length induced
him to leave the woods and attempt to give himself to the savages, but
coming in sight of the horrid spectacle of the bodies of his friends and
companions roasting for a cannibal feast, he rushed forth again into the
woods with the intent rather to starve than to trust to such wretches
for protection. For four days and nights he remained in his hiding
place, when he was forced to go in pursuit of something to keep himself
from starving. After some exertion he obtained three coco-nuts, which
were so young that they did not afford much sustenance, but were
sufficient to keep him alive fifteen days, during which time he suffered
from the continually falling showers, which left him dripping wet. In
the shade of his hiding place he had no chance to dry himself, and on
the fifteenth day he ventured to stretch himself in the sun; but he did
not long remain undisturbed; an Indian saw him, and gave the alarm,
and he was at once surrounded by a host of savages. The poor, suffering
wretch implored them to be merciful, but he implored in vain; one of
them struck him on the back of the head with a war-club, and laid him
senseless on the ground, and for a while left him as dead. When he
recovered, and had gathered his scattered senses, he observed a chief
who was not among those by whom he had been attacked, and made signs
to him that he would be his slave if he would save him. The savage
intimated to him to follow, which he did, and had his wound most cruelly
dressed by the savage, who poured hot water into it, and filled it with
sand.
“As soon as the next day, while yet in agony with his wound, he was
called up and set to work in making knives, and other implements from
the iron hoops, and other plunder from the forge when the massacre took
place. This was indeed hard, for the poor fellow was no mechanic, though
a first-rate Jack-tar... however, necessity made him a blacksmith, and
he got along pretty well.
“The savages were not yet satisfied, and they made him march five or
six miles to visit a distinguished chief. This was done in a state of
nudity, without anything like sandals or mocassins to protect his feet
from the flint stones and sharp shells, and under the burning rays of
an intolerable sun. Blood marked his footsteps. The king met him
and compelled him to debase himself by the most abject ceremonies of
slavery. He was now overcome, and with a dogged indifference was ready
to die. He could not, he would not walk back; his feet were lacerated,
swollen, and almost in a state of putrefaction. The savages saw this,
and took him back by water, but only to experience new torments. The
young ones imitated their elders, and these graceless little rascals
pulled out his beard and whiskers, and eyebrows and eyelashes. In order
to save himself some part of the pain of this wretched process of their
amusement, he was permitted to perform a part of this work with his
own hands. He was indeed a pitiable object, but one cannot die when one
wishes, and be guiltless. This was not all he suffered; he was almost
starved to death, for they gave him only the offal of the fish they
caught, and this but sparingly; he sustained himself by catching rats,
and these offensive creatures were his principal food for a longtime.
He understood that the natives did not suffer the rats to be killed, and
therefore he had to do it secretly in the night time.
“Thus passed the days of the poor prisoner; the wound on his head was
not yet healed, and notwithstanding all his efforts he failed to get the
sand out of his first wound until a short time before his deliverance,
when it was made known to him that he was to be immolated for a feast to
the king of the group! All things had now become matters of indifference
to him, and he heard the horrid story with great composure. All the
preparations for the sacrifice were got up in his presence, near the
very spot where the accursed feast of skulls had been held. All was in
readiness, and the people waited a long time for the king; but he did
not come, and the ceremony was put off.
“Shaw has often expressed himself on this subject, and said that he
could not but feel some regret that his woes were not to be finished,
as there was no hope for him, and to linger always in this state of
agitation was worse than death; but mortals are short-sighted, for he
was destined to be saved through the instrumentality of his friends.
“His soul was again agitated by hope and fear in the extremes when the
_Antarctic_ made her appearance a second time on the coast. He feared
that her arrival would be the signal for his destruction; but if this
should not happen, might he not be saved? The whole population of the
island he was on, and those of the others of the group, manned their
war canoes for a formidable attack; and the fate of the prisoner was
suspended for a season. The attack was commenced by the warriors in the
canoes, without doubt confident of success; but the well-directed fire
from the _Antarctic_ soon repulsed them, and they sought the shore in
paroxysms of rage, which was changed to fear when they found that the
big guns of the schooner threw their shot directly into the village, and
were rapidly demolishing their dwellings. It was in this state of fear
and humility that Shaw was sent off to the vessel to stop the carnage
and destruction; they were glad to have peace on any terms. They now
gave up their boldness, and as it was the wish of all but the Manila
men to spare the effusion of human blood, it was done as soon as safety
would permit of it.
“The story of Shaw's sufferings raised the indignation of every one
of the Americans and English we had on board, and they were violently
desirous to be led on to attack the whole of the Massacre Islands, and
extirpate the race at once. They felt at this moment as if it would be
an easy thing to kill the whole of the inhabitants; but Captain Morrell
was not to be governed by any impulse of passion--he had other duties to
perform; yet he did not reprimand the men for this feeling; thinking it
might be of service to him hereafter.
“After taking every precaution to ensure safety, by getting up his
boarding-nettings many feet above the deck, and everything prepared for
defence or attack, the frame of the house, brought for the purpose,
was got up on a small uninhabited island--which had previously been
purchased of the king in exchange for useful articles such as axes,
shaves, and other mechanical tools, precisely such as the Indians wished
for. The captain landed with a large force, and began to fell the trees
to make a castle for defence. Finding two large trees, nearly six feet
through, he prepared the limbs about forty feet from the ground, and
raised a platform extending from one to the other, with an arrow-proof
bulwark around it. Upon this platform were stationed a garrison of
twenty men, with four brass swivels. The platform was covered with a
watertight roof, and the men slept there at night upon their arms, to
keep the natives from approaching to injure the trees or the fort by
fire--the only way they could assail the garrison. It looked indeed like
a castle--formidable in every respect; and the ascent to it was by a
ladder, which was drawn up at night into this war-like habitation. The
next step was to clear the woods from around the castle, in order to
prevent a lurking enemy from coming within arrow-shot of the fort
Next, the house was raised, and made quite a fine appearance, being one
hundred and fifty feet long, forty feet broad, and very high. The castle
protected the house and the workmen in it, and both house and castle
were so near the sea-board that the _Antarctic_ while riding at anchor,
protected both. The castle was well stocked with provisions in case of a
siege.
“The next day, after all was in order for business, a large number of
canoes made their appearance near Massacre Island. Shaw said that this
fleet belonged to another island (of the group) and he had never known
them to stop there before. My husband, having some suspicions, did not
suffer the crew to go on shore next morning at the usual time; and about
eight o'clock one of the chiefs came off, as usual, to offer us fruits,
but no boat was sent to meet him. He waited some time for us, and then
directed his course to our island, which my husband had named Wallace
Island, in memory of the officer who had bravely fallen in fight on the
day of the massacre. This was surprising as not a single native had set
foot on that island since our works were begun; but we were not kept
long in suspense, for we saw about a hundred war-canoes start from the
back side of Massacre Island, and make towards Wallace Island. We knew
that war was their object, and the _Antarctic_ was prepared for
battle. The chief who had come to sell us fruit, came in front of the
castle--the first man. He gave the war-whoop, and about two hundred
warriors, who had concealed themselves in the woods during the darkness
of the night, rushed forward. The castle was attacked on both sides,
and the Indians discharged their arrows at the building in the air, till
they were stuck, like porcupines' quills, in every part of the roof. The
garrison was firm, and waked in silence until the assailants were within
a short distance, when they opened a tremendous fire with their swivels,
loaded with canister shot; the men were ready with their muskets also,
and the _Antarctic_ opened her fire of large guns, all with a direct
and deadly aim at the leaders of the savage band. The execution was very
great, and in a short time the enemy beat a precipitate retreat, taking
with them their wounded, and as many of their dead as they could. The
ground was strewed with implements of war, which the savages had thrown
away in their flight, or which had belonged to the slain. The enemy did
not expect such a reception, and they were prodigiously frightened; the
sound of the cannon alarmed every woman and child in the group, as it
echoed through the forest, or died upon the wave; they had never heard
such a roar before, for in our first fight there was no necessity for
such energy. The Indians took to the water, leaving only a few in their
canoes to get them off, while the garrison hoisted the American flag,
and were greeted by cheers from those on board the schooner, who were in
high spirits at their victory, which was achieved without the loss of
a man on our part, and only two wounded. The music struck up 'Yankee
Doodle,' 'Rule Britannia,' etc., and the crew could hardly restrain
their joy to think that they had beaten their enemy so easily.
“The boats were all manned, and most of the crew went on shore to
mark the devastation which had been made. I saw all this without any
sensation of fear, so easy is it for a woman to catch the spirit of
those near her. If I had a few months before this time read of such a
battle I should have trembled at the detail of the incidents; but seeing
all the animation and courage which were displayed, and noticing at the
same time how coolly all was done, every particle of fear left me, and
I stood quite as collected as any heroine of former days. Still I
could not but deplore the sacrifice of the poor, misguided, ignorant
creatures, who wore the human form, and had souls to save. Must the
ignorant always be taught civilisation through blood?--situated as we
were, no other course could be taken.
“On the morning of the 19th, to our great surprise, the chief who had
previously come out to bring us fruit, and had done so on the morning of
our great battle, came again in his canoe, and called for Shaw, on
the edge of the reef, with his usual air of kindness and friendship,
offering fruit, and intimating a desire for trade, as though nothing had
happened. The offer seemed fair, but all believed him to be treacherous.
The small boat was sent to meet him, but Shaw, who we feared was now an
object of vengeance, was not sent in her. She was armed for fear of
the worst, and the coxswain had orders to kill the chief if he should
discover any treachery in him. As our boat came alongside the canoe,
the crew saw a bearded arrow attached to a bow, ready for the purpose
of revenge. Just as the savage was about to bend his bow, the coxswain
levelled his piece, and shot the traitor through the body; his wound was
mortal, but he did not expire immediately. At this instant a fleet of
canoes made their appearance to protect their chief. The small boat lost
one of her oars in the fight, and we were obliged to man two large boats
and send them to the place of contest. The large boats were armed with
swivels and muskets, and a furious engagement ensued. The natives were
driven from the water, but succeeded in taking off their wounded chief,
who expired as he reached the shore.
“After the death of Hennean, the name of the chief we had slain, the
inhabitants of Massacre Island fled to some other place, and left all
things as they were before our attack upon them, and our men roamed over
it at will. The skulls of several of our slaughtered men were found at
Hennean's door, trophies of his bloody prowess. These were now buried
with the honours of war; the colours of the _Antarctic_ were lowered
half-mast, minute guns were fired, and dirges were played by our band,
in honour of those who had fallen untimely on Massacre Island. This was
all that feeling or affection could bestow. Those so inhumanly murdered
had at last the rites of burial performed for them; millions have
perished without such honours...it is the last sad office that can be
paid.
“We now commenced collecting and curing _bêche-de-mer_ and should have
succeeded to our wishes, if we had not been continually harassed by the
natives as soon as we began our efforts. We continued to work in this
way until the 28th of October, when we found that the natives were still
hostile, and on that day one of our men was attacked on Massacre Island,
but escaped death through great presence of mind, and shot the man, who
was the brother of the chief Hennean. Our man's name was Thomas Holmes,
a cool, deliberate Englishman. Such an instance of self-possession,
in such great danger as that in which he was placed, would have given
immortality to a greater man. We felt ourselves much harassed and vexed
by the persevering savages, and finding it impossible to make them
understand our motives and intentions, we came to the conclusion to
leave the place forthwith. This was painful, after such struggles and
sacrifices and misfortunes; but there was no other course to pursue.
Accordingly, on the 3rd of November, 1830, we set fire to our house and
castle, and departed by the light of them, taking the _bêche-de-mer_ we
had collected and cured.”
So ends Mrs. Morrell's story of the tragedy of “Massacre Island”. She
has much else to relate of the subsequent cruise of the _Antarctic_ in
the South Pacific and the East Indies, and finally the happy conclusion
of an adventurous voyage, when the vessel returned safely to New York.
If the reader has been sufficiently interested in her story to desire
to know where in the South Pacific her “Massacre Island” is situated,
he will find it in any modern map or atlas, almost midway between New
Ireland and Bougainville Island, the largest of the Solomon group, and
in lat. 4° 50' S., long. 154° 20' E. In conclusion, I may mention that
further relics of the visit of the _Antarctic_ came to light about
fifteen years ago, when some of the natives brought three or four round
shot to the local trader then living on Nisân. They had found them
buried under some coral stone _débris_ when searching for robber crabs.