“It was on Saturday, the 20th of November, 1806, that we anchored at one
of the Haapai Islands, in the Tonga Group, or as people now call them,
the Friendly Islands. The town was named Lifuka, and it was a very
beautiful place to look at, for the houses of the natives were embowered
in palm groves of the loveliest verdure, and a very white beach ran from
one end of the island to the other.
“Our voyage from the Galapagos had in no wise been a fortunate one;
for we had taken but two whales, and the crew were in a highly mutinous
state. Our new captain had grossly insulted the officer of marines from
the first, and said that he and his men were a set of lazy, skulking
dogs. Now ours had always been a very happy ship's company when Captain
Duck was alive, and the marines we had on board had become as good
seamen as any other of our people, so that this speech rankled deeply in
their minds and bore bitter fruit, as will presently be shown.
“No sooner had we dropped anchor than a great number of natives came
on board. They were an extraordinarily fine built race, and, indeed,
although we had some very big and powerful men in the ship's company, no
one of them was anything like in stature and haughty carriage to these
naked, brown-skinned savages. Mr. Brown invited some of the chiefs into
the cabin, and, with young Mr. Mariner, entertained them. Although they
knew he was the commander they paid him little deference, but seemed
to be greatly taken with Mr. Mariner, embracing him with every
demonstration of affection, as if he were some long lost friend.
“In a few hours their numbers had increased to such an extent that one
of our crew, a native of the Sandwich Islands (who had joined the ship
at the Galapagos) ventured to tell Mr. Brown that he thought they had
hostile intentions. He had, he said, heard them use the word _mate_,
which in his islands meant to kill; and this and other expressions which
much resembled those used in his own country led him to think that some
mischief was intended. Instead of listening to poor Hula--for so he was
named--Mr. Brown ordered him on deck, and threatened to flog him, so
that the poor fellow came back quite dejected.
“'Jack,' said he to me--I was a favourite of his--'Captain he fool. You
get cutlass and pistol and keep close alongside Hula. I think Kanaka men
want to take ship and kill all white man.'
“I was, indeed, by this time quite terrified at the number of savages
on board, and made haste to obey the poor man's warning; whereupon Mr.
Brown, who just then came on deck, swore violently at me for a fool,
and ordered me to lay aside my arms. 'The natives,' said he, 'mean us
no harm, and I will not affront them by letting any of you timid fools
carry arms in their presence.'
“The following day was Sunday, and the crew came aft in a body, and
asked permission for half of the ship's company to go ashore. To this
request Mr. Brown refused to accede, called them lazy, mutinous dogs,
and swore he would flog the first man who attempted to leave the ship.
No sooner had he said this than one Jim Kelly, the ship's armourer,
stepped out in front, and brandishing a Mexican dagger swore he would
run it through the first man that sought to stay him. His example was
followed by William Clay, Jabez Martin, David Jones, William Baker,
James Hoag, and Tom Woods, the carpenter, who, drawing their cutlasses,
said they would stand to him. Then twelve others followed, and with
defiant exclamations went over the side into canoes, many of them taking
their clothes with them.
“In the meantime there came on board a young native chief of immense
stature, named Vaka-ta-Bula, who inquired for Mr. Mariner. He seemed
very pleased to see the young gentleman, and petted and fondled him as
the other natives had done previously. This apparent friendliness seemed
to quite overcome all sense of danger in Mr. Brown's mind; for, to the
fear of the rest of the officers and crew, he ordered all our axes,
boarding-pikes, cutlasses, and firearms to be taken below, and then
signified his intention of accompanying Vaka-ta-Bula on shore to the
native village. However, at the earnest entreaty of Mr. Dixon, the
second in command, he consented to put off his visit till the following
morning.
“At nine o'clock in the morning I was sent aloft by the sailmaker to
help unbend the foretopsail, which was to be repaired, and looking down
saw the decks were rapidly filling with natives. Mr. Brown had already
gone ashore with the chief Vaka-ta-Bula, Mr. Mariner was in the cabin
writing, and the rest of the officers were engaged in various work on
deck. Just then I saw Mr. Dixon jump up on one of the carron-ades, and
make signs to the natives that no more were to come on board. Suddenly,
a tall native, who stood behind him, dashed out his brains with a club;
and then in an instant a dreadful cry resounded through the ship, and
all those of her crew on deck were attacked and savagely slaughtered.
Horrified at the terrible butchery I saw going on below, I thought at
first to leap overboard and attempt to swim to the shore, but before I
could collect my thoughts I was seized by several natives and dragged to
the deck.
“Just then--so I was afterwards told--young Mr. Mariner came on deck,
and, seeing that every soul of the ship's company on deck lay wallowing
in their blood, ran down-the scuttle into the gunroom, where, with
the cooper, he rapidly devised some means or escape from the general
slaughter. But the hideous yells and dreadful clamour of the savages as
they rushed below to seek out and murder those of the crew still alive
so appalled them that they fled to the magazine, and resolved to blow up
the ship rather than meet with such a fate.
“Fired with this resolution, Mr. Mariner ran back to the gunroom for a
flint and steel, but before he could secure those articles he was seized
by a number of savages; and at that moment I was also dragged down into
the cabin, where the first sight that met our eyes was Vaka-ta-Bula,
holding Captain Duck's bloodstained sword in his hand. He was surrounded
by many other chiefs and, greatly to our relief, he went up to Mr.
Mariner and embraced him. Then, in broken English, he said that Mr.
Brown and many of those who had gone on shore were already killed;
that now that he had possession of the ship he was satisfied, and was
inclined to spare those on board who yet remained alive. Then he asked
us how many were left.
“'Three,' said the young gentleman, pointing to himself, the cooper, and
myself.
“'Good,' said Vaka-ta-Bula, handing the bloodied sword to a native;
'three no too many.' Then he told us we must follow him ashore, and
motioned us to go on deck.
“A very shocking sight there met our view. Upon the quarter-deck lay
twenty-five bodies, all perfectly naked, and placed closely together
side by side. Only one or two could we recognise, for the poor fellows'
heads had been battered out of all human semblance by blows from the
heavy native clubs, and from their still warm bodies ran a dreadful
stream of red that flooded the quarter-deck and poured along the
covering-board to the deck below. But even worse than this was the
appearance of a short, squat old native whose head was covered with what
had a few minutes before been snow-white hair, but was now dyed deep
with the life-blood of our unfortunate companions.
“Over his left shoulder was thrown poor Mr. Dixon's jacket, and his
frightful appearance was increased by his being--save for this one
garment--absolutely naked, and holding across his huge and ensanguined
thighs a heavy ironwood club, bespattered with blood and brains. So
terrifying an object was he that we could scarce believe him human till
he opened his horrid mouth, and with a dreadful laugh pointed to the
mutilated bodies of our shipmates. I saw no more then, for I swooned.
“When I came to I found myself in a house in the village, but my
companions were not visible; and, indeed, I never saw them again, for
I was taken away the next day to another island, where, although I was
kindly treated, I remained a prisoner for two long weary months, knowing
nothing of what befell those of my shipmates who had been spared from
the general massacre.
“About ten weeks afterwards, when the shock of that dreadful slaughter
which I had witnessed had somewhat worn off, I began to take an interest
in my surroundings. My first object was to try and learn something about
young Mr. Mariner; but the natives seemed to evade my inquiries, and
at first would tell me nothing. But after a time the chief with whom I
lived, whose name was Fatafehe, told me that Finau, the native king who
had planned and carried out the cutting off of the _Port-au-Prince_ had
taken a great liking to the young gentleman, who was now high in favour
with him and the _matabuli_ or leading men. And later on I was told that
thirteen of my surviving comrades had taken service with Finau, and were
then engaged with him in preparing for an expedition intended to conquer
the large neighbouring island of Tongatabu. Seven of the privateer's
carronades and two eighteen-pounder guns which formed part of the
armament were worked by the thirteen Englishmen; and about seven months
afterwards I heard that at the storming of Nukualofa, the great fortress
on Tonga-tabu, Finau achieved a great victory, and made much of his
white artillerymen, giving them houses and land and wives, and making
them of equal rank with his _matubuliu_. The tale of the terrible
slaughter at the taking of this fort was something dreadful even to
hear, and yet I have heard that young Mariner said in his book that
Finau was by no means a bloodthirsty man. I can only speak of the man
as I heard of him--but Mr. Mariner, who lived with him for some three or
four years, no doubt knew this savage chieftain well, and was competent
to speak as he did of him.
“For ten months I lived with the chief Fatafehe in the Haapai Group,
and then from there I was removed to the larger island of Vavau. Here I
spent a year before I could make my escape, which by a kind Providence
I was at last enabled to effect by swimming off on board the ship
_Chalice_, of Nantucket, as she lay at anchor in Niafu Harbour.
“Her captain treated me very kindly, and put me on the ship's books, and
then, Mr. Denison, began my career as a whaleman.
“It was quite another year ere I succeeded in reaching England, where I
made haste to tell my story to Mr. Robert Bent; but he had already heard
of the disaster that had overtaken his ship. He behaved very generously
to me, and gave me twenty guineas to carry me home to my native place,
and told me--as I still desired to follow a seaman's life--to come to
him when I wanted a ship.
“My parents and my dear sister Judith had for about six months mourned
me as dead, and ours was truly a happy and wonderful reunion, and the
first night I spent at home we all knelt down together and thanked God
for my deliverance.
“Mr. Mariner, I am glad to say, escaped from those dreadful islands
three years later, and reached England in safety. And so I come to the
end of this tale of a very strange and calamitous voyage, brought
about mainly through the obstinacy of the whaling-master of the
_Port-au-Prince_.”
*****
“And now, Mr. Denison and Captain Packenham, as I think we shall never
meet again, I want you to be good to my boys, Tom and Sam, and warn them
both against the drink. It is kind, generous gentlemen like you who,
meaning no harm, send so many half-caste lads to hell.”