The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  MURDER!

  The planting time came round at Pitcairn, and all was busy activity inthe little settlement at Bounty Bay. The women, engaged in householdwork and in the preparation of food, scarcely troubled themselves tocast an anxious eye on the numerous children who, according to age andcapacity, rolled, tumbled, staggered, and jumped about in noisy play.The sun, streaming through the leaves of the woods, studded shady placeswith balls of quivering light, and blazed in fierce heat in the openwhere the men were at work, each in his respective garden. We have saidthat those gardens lay apart, at some distance from each other, and werepartially concealed by shrubs or undulating knolls.

  The garden of John Williams was farthest off from the settlement. Hewrought in it alone on the day of which we write. Next to it was thatof Fletcher Christian. He also worked alone that day.

  About two hundred yards from his garden, and screened from it by awooded rising ground, was a piece of plantation, in which John Mills,William McCoy, and Menalee were at work together. John Adams, WilliamBrown, and Isaac Martin were working in their own gardens near theirrespective houses, and Quintal was resting in his hut. So was EdwardYoung, who, having been at work since early morning, had lain down andfallen into a deep slumber.

  The three native men, Timoa, Nehow, and Tetaheite, were still away inthe woods. If the unfortunate Englishmen had known what these men wereabout, they would not have toiled so quietly on that peaceful morning!

  The Otaheitans met in a cocoa-nut grove at some distance to the eastwardof the settlement. Each had a musket, which he loaded with ball. Theydid not speak much, and what they did say was uttered in a suppressedtone of voice.

  "Come," said Timoa, leading the way through the woods.

  The others followed in single file, until they reached the garden whereWilliams was at work. Here their movements were more cautious. As theyadvanced, they crept along on their knees with the motion of cats, andwith as little noise. They could hear the sound of the armourer'sspade, as he turned up the soil. Presently they came to an opening inthe bushes, through which they could see him, not thirty yards off.

  Timoa drew himself together, and in a crouching attitude levelled hismusket.

  During their absence in the woods, these men had practised shooting at amark, doubtless in preparation for the occasion which had now arrived.The woods and cliffs rang to the loud report, and Williams fell forwardwithout a cry or groan, shot through the heart.

  The murderers rose and looked at each other, but uttered not a word,while Timoa recharged his gun.

  The report had, of course, been heard by every one in the settlement,but it was a familiar sound, and caused neither surprise nor alarm.McCoy merely raised himself for a moment, remarked to Mills that someone must have taken a fancy for a bit of pork to supper, and thenresumed his work.

  Christian also heard the shot, but seemed to pay no regard to it.Ceasing his labour in a few minutes, he raised himself, wiped hisforehead, and resting both hands on his spade, looked upwards at thebright blue sky. Fleecy clouds passed across it now and then,intensifying its depth, and apparently riveting Christian's gaze, for hecontinued motionless for several minutes, with his clear eye fixed onthe blue vault, and a sad, wistful expression on his handsome face, asif memory, busy with the past and future, had forgotten the present. Itwas his last look. A bullet from the bushes struck him at that momenton the breast. Uttering one short, sharp cry, he threw both hands highabove his head, and fell backwards. The spasm of pain was butmomentary. The sad, wistful look was replaced by a quiet smile. Henever knew who had released his spirit from the prison-house of clay,for the eyes remained fixed on the bright blue sky, clear and steadfast,until death descended. Then the light went out, just as his murdererscame forward, but the quiet smile remained, and his spirit returned toGod who gave it.

  It seemed as if the murderers were, for a few moments, awestruck andhorrified by what they had done; but they quickly recovered. What theyhad set their faces to accomplish must now be done at all hazards.

  "Did you hear that cry?" said McCoy, raising himself from his work inthe neighbouring garden.

  "Yes; what then?" demanded Quintal.

  "It sounded to me uncommon like the cry of a wounded man," said McCoy.

  "Didn't sound like that to me," returned Quintal; "more like Mainmastcallin' her husband to dinner."

  As he spoke, Tetaheite appeared at the edge of the garden with a musketin his hand, the other two natives remaining concealed in the bushes.

  "Ho, Missr Mills," he called out, in his broken English, "me have justshoot a large pig. Will you let Menalee help carry him home?"

  "Yes;--you may go," said Mills, turning to Menalee.

  The Otaheitan threw down his tools, and joined his comrades in the bush,where he was at once told what had been done.

  Menalee did not at first seem as much pleased as his comrades hadexpected, nevertheless, he agreed to go with them.

  "How shall we kill Mills and McCoy?" asked Timoa, in a low whisper.

  "Shoot them," answered Menalee; "you have three muskets."

  "But they also have muskets," objected Tetaheite, "and are good shots.If we miss them, some of us shall be dead men at once."

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," said Nehow, who thereupon hastilydetailed a plan, which they proceeded at once to carry out.

  Creeping round through the woods, they managed to get into McCoy's houseby a back window, unobserved. Menalee then ran down to the garden, asif in a state of great excitement.

  "Oh, Missr McCoy, Timoa and Nehow hab come down from mountain, an' isrobbin' you house!"

  The bait took. McCoy ran up to his house. As soon as he reached thedoor there was a volley from within, but McCoy remained untouched.

  Seeing this, and, no doubt, supposing that he must be badly wounded,Menalee, who had followed him, seized him from behind. But McCoy, beingthe stronger man, twisted himself suddenly round, grasped Menalee by thewaist with both hands, and flung him headlong into a neighbouringpig-sty. He then turned and ran back to his garden to warn Mills.

  "Run for it, Mills," he cried; "run and take to the bush. All the blackscoundrels have united to murder us."

  He set the example by at once disappearing in the thick bush. But Millsdid not believe him. He and Menalee had always been good friends, andhe seemed to think it impossible that they would kill him. Hehesitated, and the hesitation cost him his life, for next moment abullet laid him low.

  Meanwhile McCoy ran to warn Christian. Reaching his garden, he foundhim there, dead, with the tranquil smile still on his cold lips, and thenow glazed eyes still gazing upwards. One glance sufficed. He turnedand ran back to Christian's house to tell his wife what he had seen, butthe poor woman was sick in bed at the time and could not move. Runningthen to Quintal's garden, he found him alive, but quite ignorant of whatwas going on.

  "They seem to be wastin' a deal of powder to-day," he growled, withoutraising himself, as McCoy came up; "but--hallo! you're blowing hard.What's wrong?"

  As soon as he heard the terrible story he ran to his wife, who chancedto be sitting near the edge of his garden.

  "Up, old girl," he cried, "your nigger countrymen are murderin' us all.If you want to see any of us escape you'd better go and warn 'em. Ishall look after number one."

  Accordingly, with his friend of kindred spirit, he sought refuge in thebush.

  Mrs Quintal had no desire to see all the white men slaughtered by hercountrymen. She therefore started off at once, and in passing thegarden of John Adams, called to him to take to the bush without delay,and ran on.

  Unfortunately Adams did not understand what she meant. He, like theothers, had heard the firing, but had only thought of it as a foolishwaste of ammunition. Nothing was further from his thoughts on thatpeaceful day and hour than deeds of violence and bloodshed. Hetherefore continued at work.

  The four murderers, meanwhile, ran down to Isaac Martin's
house, foundhim in the garden, and pointing their muskets at him, pulled thetriggers. The pieces missed fire, and poor Martin, thinking probablythat it was a practical joke, laughed at them. They cocked again,however, and fired. Martin, although he fell mortally wounded, hadstrength to rise again and fly towards his house. The natives followedhim into it. There was one of the sledge-hammers of the _Bounty_ there.One of them seized it, and with one blow beat in the poor man's skull.

  Roused, apparently, to madness by their bloody work, the Otaheitans nowrushed in a body to Brown's garden. The botanist had been somewhatsurprised at the frequent firing, but like his unfortunatefellow-countrymen, appeared to have not the remotest suspicion of whatwas going on. The sight of the natives, however, quickly opened hiseyes. He turned as if to fly, but before he could gain the bushes, awell-aimed volley killed him.

  Thus in little more than an hour were five of the Englishmen murdered.

  It now seemed as if the revenge of the Otaheitans had been sated, forafter the last tragic act they remained for some time in front ofBrown's house talking, and resting their hands on the muzzles of theirguns.

  All this time Edward Young was lying asleep in ignorance of what wasbeing done, and purposely kept in ignorance by the women. Having beentold by Quintal's wife, they knew part of the terrible details of themassacre, but they had no power to check the murderers. They, however,adopted what means they could to shield Young, who, as we have said, wasa favourite with all the natives, and closed the door of the hut inwhich he lay to prevent his being awakened.

  The suspicions of Adams having at length been aroused, he went down toBrown's house to see what all the firing could be about. The children,meanwhile, having some vague fears that danger threatened, had run intotheir mother's huts. Everything passed so quickly, in fact, that few ofthe people had time to understand or think, or take action in any way.

  Reaching the edge of Brown's garden, and seeing the four Otaheitansstanding as we have described, Adams stopped and called out to know whatwas the matter.

  "Silence," shouted one of them, pointing his gun. Being unarmed, andobserving the body of Brown on the ground, Adams at once leaped into thebush and ran. He was hotly pursued by the four men, but being strongand swift of foot, he soon left them behind. In passing Williams'shouse, he went towards it, intending to snatch up some thick garments,and, if possible, a musket and ammunition, for he had no doubt now thatsome of his countrymen must have been killed, and that he would have totake to the bush along with them. An exclamation of horror escaped himwhen he came upon the armourer's body. It needed no second glance totell that his comrade was dead. Passing into the house, he caught up anold blanket and a coat, but there was no musket. He knew that withoutarms he would be at the mercy of the savages. Being a cool andcourageous man, he therefore made a long detour through the bush untilhe reached his own house, and entered by a back window. His sick wifereceived him with a look of glad surprise.

  "Is it true they have killed some of the white men?" she asked.

  "Ay, too true," he replied, quickly; "and I must take to the bush for awhile. Where can I find a bag to hold some yams? Ah, here you are.There's no fear o' them hurting you, lass."

  As he spoke a shot was heard. The natives had seen and followed him. Aball, coming through the window, entered the back of his neck and cameout at the front. He fell, but instantly sprang up and leaped throughthe doorway, where he was met by the four natives.

  Besides being a powerful man, Adams was very active, and the wound inhis neck was only a flesh one. He knocked down Timoa, the foremost ofthe band, with one blow of his fist, and grappling with Nehow, threw himviolently over his prostrate comrade; but Menalee, coming up at themoment, clubbed his musket and made a furious blow at Adams's head. Heguarded it with one hand, and in so doing had one of his fingers broken.Tetaheite and Menalee then both sprang upon him, but he nearlythrottled the one, tripped up the other, and, succeeding by a violentwrench in breaking loose, once more took to his heels.

  In running, the Otaheitans were no match for him. He gradually leftthem behind. Then Timoa called out to him to stop.

  "No, you scoundrels," he shouted back in reply, "you want to kill me;but you'll find it a harder job than you think."

  "No, no," cried Nehow, vehemently, "we don't want to kill you. Stop,and we won't hurt you."

  Adams felt that loss of blood from his wound was quickly reducing hisstrength. His case was desperate. He formed a quick resolve and actedpromptly. Stopping, he turned about and walked slowly but steadily backtowards the natives, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixedsternly upon them.

  "Well, I have stopped, you see," he said, on coming up. "I will takeyou at your word."

  "We will do you no harm if you will follow us," said Timoa.

  They then went together to the house of Young. Here they found itsowner, just roused by the noise of the scuffle with Adams, listening tothe explanations of the women, who were purposely trying to lead himastray lest he should go out and be shot. The entrance of the fournatives, armed and covered with blood, and Adams unarmed and wounded, atonce showed him how matters stood.

  "This is a terrible business," he said in a low tone to Adams, while themurderers were disputing noisily about going into the woods to hunt downMcCoy and Quintal. "Have they killed many of our comrades?"

  "God knows," said Adams, while Quintal's wife bound up the wound in hisneck. "There has been firin' enough to have killed us all twice over.I thought some of you were spending the ammunition foolishly on hogs orgulls. Williams is dead, I know, and poor Brown, for I saw theirbodies, but I can't say--"

  "Fletcher Christian is killed," said Quintal's wife, interrupting.

  "Fletcher Christian!" exclaimed Adams and Young in the same breath.

  "Ay, and Isaac Martin and John Mills," continued the woman.

  While she was speaking, the four Otaheitans, having apparently come toan agreement as to their future proceedings, loaded their musketshastily, and rushing from the house soon disappeared in the woods.

  We shall not harrow the reader's feelings by following farther thebloody details of this massacre. Let it suffice to add, briefly, thatafter retiring from a fruitless search for the white men in the bush,Menalee quarrelled with Timoa and shot him. This roused the anger ofthe other two against Menalee, who fled to the bush and tried to makefriends with McCoy and Quintal. This he appeared to succeed in doing,but when he was induced by them to give up his musket, he found out hismistake, for they soon turned it on himself and killed him. ThenYoung's wife, Susannah, was induced to kill Tetaheite with an axe, andYoung himself immediately after shot Nehow.

  When McCoy and Quintal were told that all the Otaheitan men were deadthey returned to the settlement. It was a terrible scene of desolationand woe. Even these two rough and heartless men were awed for a timeinto something like solemnity.

  The men now left alive on the island were Young, Adams, Quintal, andMcCoy. In the households of these four the widows and children of theslain were distributed. The evidences of the bloody tragedy wereremoved, the murdered men were buried, and thus came to a close thefirst great epoch in the chequered history of Pitcairn Island.