"The crew of the Globe consisted of between twenty-five and thirty; but the only persons engaged in the mutiny were Comstock, Paine, Oliver, and the black steward, (Lilliston, who was one of the mutineers he did not mention.) It was midnight, and previous to descending to the cabin, one of the number was placed as a sentinel at the cabin door, with an axe, Comstock saying to a young brother who was at the helm, that if he did not keep the ship in her course, he would kill him as soon as he came on deck. Comstock killed the captain by striking him on the forehead with an axe whilst he was sleeping, having first locked the mates up in their state-rooms, that they might not escape. He then went with the other mutineers, and, I believe, cut the throats of the first and second mates, and shot the third mate. I did not see any but the third mate, and was told that the others were thrown out of the cabin windows.
"Not many days after the mutiny, the black steward was detected in the cabin loading a pistol which was forbidden on pain of death; and on being asked by Comstock what he intended doing with it, he replied, at first, "Nothing;" but, when questioned more closely, he said that he had heard Smith and some one else say, they intended to take the ship. Smith and the other person named by the steward, were called up by Comstock, and asked if they had threatened to take the ship; to which they replied in the negative, insisting that they had never intimated or intended any thing of the kind. Comstock declared that such an offence could not go unpunished, and that the steward must be tried by a court martial; he thereupon told the steward to choose one man, and said that he would choose another, and that the two should sentence the steward to such punishment as the offence merited. The two men were accordingly chosen, the steward selecting Rowland Coffin for his advocate, and Comstock, Paine for his. After hearing the evidence, and deliberating for a short time, they found the steward guilty, and sentenced him to be hung at the yard-arm until he was dead. Immediately afterwards, all hands were called to witness the execution; and the steward was taken forward and given fourteen seconds to make his peace with God.[[9]] The foretop-mast steering sail haulyards were overhauled down and tied round the steward's neck, and Comstock, after making every body take hold of the haulyards, held the fourteen second glass in one hand, and his cutlass in the other. When the glass was out, he gave the signal for the people to run away with the haulyards, by striking the ship's bell with his cutlass, and, in a moment, the criminal was run up to the yard-arm.
"After the death of the officers, Comstock made us all live in the cabin with him, where the mutineers used to sing, and carouse, and tell over the story of the murder, and what they had dreamed. Paine and Oliver, who could scarcely ever sleep, spoke with horror of their dreams, and of ghosts that appeared to them at night; but Comstock always made light of it, and appeared to exult in what he had done. He said once, that the captain came to him with his wounded and bloody head, and showed him what he had done, when he told the captain to depart and never come again, or he would kill him a second time.
"After our arrival here, we made a raft of two whale-boats and some spars, and on the first or second day, landed thirty or forty barrels of beef and pork, sails, rigging, and a variety of other articles, when Comstock having pitched a tent on shore, commenced with the mechanics to work on a whale-boat that he was going to raise upon and make larger. Paine was displeased with his doing this so soon, and sent word to him that he had better discharge the ship, and then work upon the boats. This greatly enraged Comstock, who hailed the ship for a boat, and on her being sent to him, came on board. There he and Paine had a violent quarrel, and Paine dared him to take a musket and go on shore with him and fight it out, which Comstock refused to do. When he landed, being afraid that Paine and Oliver would kill him if he slept in the tent, he went off to pass the night with the natives; in his absence, Paine and Oliver agreed to shoot him when he came back; accordingly, on the following morning, he was seen coming along the beach alone, "and when he had arrived within good gun-shot, they commenced firing at him; without changing his pace, he continued to advance, and drawing his cutlass, called out to Paine to stop firing and he would make peace with him; Paine, however, continued to fire, and, at the third or fourth discharge, Comstock fell lifeless upon his face, a ball having pierced his heart. Fearing that he might not be quite dead, and perhaps would get up again, Paine ran up to him with an axe, and cut off the back of his neck. He was buried close to the tent, in the manner he had often expressed a wish to be, with all his clothes on, and his cutlass hung to his side. Upon first landing, he had fixed upon a site for a town, and amongst other public buildings that he contemplated erecting, was a church, for which he had selected what he considered an eligible situation.
"The natives were all the time so very friendly, that we were not in the least afraid of them. A great many of them came to our tent every day, and some of them were there day and night, eating, drinking, and sleeping with us. Paine had a girl that he brought from another islet, who did not like to stay with us, and would run away whenever she got an opportunity; he fired muskets at her several times, and at last, used to keep her by putting her in irons.
A few days after the ship ran away, some of the natives, who had been at the tent, stole from us a number of tools. Paine gave four or five of our people muskets without cartridges, and sent them to the natives, a great many of whom were assembled not far off, for the stolen articles. The natives refused to give them up, and soon began to throw stones at our people, who, knowing that they had not the means of resisting, began to retreat; the natives pursued them, throwing stones, and one of the party, Rowland Jones, either fell or was knocked down by his pursuers, who came up immediately afterwards and killed him. When the party returned to the tent, Paine, who had taken the command after Comstock's death, ordered all the muskets brought to him, and locked them up. We were all in or about the tent, when a few hours afterwards the natives came there as usual, but in greater numbers. After they had been there a little while, some one remarked, 'I am afraid they are going to kill us; they have all got spears, or stones, or sticks in their hands.' Upon this, Paine said he believed we were all taken, but that he was safe. The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the natives commenced the massacre, knocking our people on the head with stones and clubs, and sticking spears in them. An old man and his wife laid hold of me, one on each side, and led me a little way off in the bushes, where, I thought they were going to kill me, but where they only held me fast and protected me from the violence of several who came and wanted to kill me. I saw two of the natives lead Paine off a little way, and thought they were going to save his life; but they proceeded only a few yards, when one of them took up a stone and struck him on the head; he attempted to run, but a second blow brought him down, and they immediately afterwards killed him. Oliver, I did not see; but the natives told me that he ran a short distance, when he was overtaken and killed in the bushes. A Sandwich Islander that was with us, got to the water, and was overtaken and killed there."
"Were there any women at the massacre?"
"Oh, yes, and children too. The women seemed to take as active a part as the men. I saw one old woman run a spear in the back of one man, who was held by two natives, with a degree of violence that seemed far beyond her strength. I thought that all but myself were killed until the following evening. I had been taken to the islet where your schooner is anchored, and where all the chiefs were assembled, when they brought Huzzy, to show me that there was one living besides myself. After an interview of a few hours, Huzzy was taken away to live with Lugoma, who had saved his life, and I was taken to live with the old man who had saved mine. He was so very poor that I scarcely ever got enough to eat of the coarsest native food. I had to labour very hard, although I suffered constantly from hunger, which soon made me weak and extremely wretched. At last, the high chief took compassion upon me, and made me live with him; after which, I had always plenty to eat, and was at liberty to work or not, as I pleased. He was very kind to me in every respect. They have always brought Huzzy to me, or taken me to see him once a fortnight, or once a month, and suffered us to pass the day together."
Here Lay's narrative ended. Huzzy told us, that during his residence with Lugoma, his time had been spent principally on the water, going with him in his canoe, which required two to work it. Lugoma was a great fisherman, and distinguished amongst the chiefs for his industry and enterprising character. He would always have enough to eat, if he had to steal it. When Huzzy would complain to him of the hard and laborious life that he led, Lugoma would always reply, that if he would eat he must work. There seems to be no doubt, that the natives saved the lives of these young men from no other motive than that of making them slaves, and availing themselves of the advantage of their labour.
At the dawn of day, we prepared to depart for the schooner, and in getting up our anchor, which was a kedge, weighing upwards of a hundred pounds, we found that it was hooked to a bunch of coral at the bottom, from which all our efforts failed to move it. As soon as Lugoma saw our difficulty, he told his son to go down and clear the anchor. The little fellow jumped into the water, which was about three fathoms deep, and in a few moments came up, making motions for us to haul away. He had disengaged the kedge, and we had no further trouble in getting it up. It is a universal practice amongst the natives, whenever they wish to anchor, to take a line from the end of the canoe, and tie it to a tree of coral at the bottom.