Chapter 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.