Mountain Moggy: The Stoning of the Witch

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Tom guessed what this request meant. “Well, sir, if your honourable father and mother and you wish it, I’ll tell you all I know about myself. For what I know to the contrary, I was born at sea. My first recollections were of a fearful storm on the ocean. We were tossing about in a boat. One of them, whom I for a long time afterwards thought was my father, had charge of me. He was a kind-hearted man, and looked after me most carefully. He went by the name of Jack Johnson, but sailors often change their names, especially if they have deserted, or have done anything for which they think that they may be punished. He always called me Tom, and I didn’t know that I had any other name till he told me that my name was Holman, that he had known my father, who was a very respectable man, who, with my mother, and many other people, had been lost at sea. He said that he had saved me, and that we, with a few others, were the only people who had escaped from the wreck. We had been picked up by a ship outward bound round the Horn. Two of the men died, the rest entered on board the whaler, and as the captain could not well pitch me overboard he was obliged to take me; for indeed Jack, who was the best seaman of the lot, refused to do duty unless I was put on the ship’s books for rations. It was a rough school for a child, but I throve in it, and learned many things, though some of them I had better not have learned. The captain seemed a stern and morose man, and for many months he took no notice of me; but one day as I was trying to climb up the rattlins of the lower shrouds I fell to the deck. He ran to me, lifted me up, and carrying me to his cabin, placed me on his own bed, and with an anxious countenance examined me all over to find where I was hurt. He rubbed my temples and hands, and Jack, who followed him into the cabin, said he looked quite pleased when I came to again. I was some weeks recovering, and he watched over me all the time with as much care as if I had been his own child.

“‘Ah! the man’s heart is in the right place, and I’d sooner sail with him than with many another softer-spoken gentleman I’ve fallen in with,’ remarked Jack one day after I had recovered.

“We heard from one of the crew, who had before sailed with the captain, that he had a little son of his own killed from falling on deck, and this it was which made him take to me.”

“Yes, God has implanted right and good feelings in the bosoms of all His creatures,” observed the Doctor. “But when they are neglected, and sin is allowed to get the better of them, they are destroyed. None of our hearts are in their right place, as the saying is. They are all by nature prone to ill. The same man who was doing you the kindness might in other ways have been grievously offending God.”

“Ay, sir, it might have been; but it would not become me to find fault with one who had rendered me so great a service,” said Tom. “After I was well, he used to have me into his cabin every day to teach me to read and write, and the little learning I ever had I gained from him. We had been out four years, and the ship had at last got a full cargo, and was on the point of returning home, when we fell in with another ship belonging to the same owners. The captain of her had died, and the first mate had been washed overboard, and so the supercargo invited our captain to take charge of her. As he had no wife nor children living at home, this he consented to do, and thus it happened that I remained out in the Pacific another four years. Tom for my sake went with him to the other ship. We were nearly full.

“‘One more fish, and then hurrah for old England, lads,’ sung out the captain, as three sperm whales were seen spouting from the mast-head.

“All the boats were immediately lowered. Jack was in the captain’s boat. Away they pulled from the ship in chase. Those sperm whales are sometimes dangerous creatures to hunt. We saw that the captain’s boat was fast, that is to say, he had struck the whale. Away went the boat, towed at a great rate. Suddenly she stopped—the whale rose. The captain pulled in to strike another harpoon into her. The monster reared her powerful tail and struck the boat a blow which split her clean in two. We had not a boat left to go to our shipmates’ assistance; the other boats were far away in other directions. The wind was light, but we were able to lay up towards the spot where the accident had occurred. We could at length see the wreck of the boat and two men clinging to her. I hoped that one might be Jack and the other the captain; for they were, I may well say, the only two people I cared for in the world, or who cared for me. Eagerly I looked out. ‘It’s Jem Rawlins and Peter Garvin,’ I heard some one say. My heart sank within me. Jem and Peter were got on board. They were, of all the crew, those I had the least reason to like. They told us that the poor captain had got the line entangled round his leg, and had been drawn down when the whale sounded, and that Jack had been killed by a blow from her tail. It seemed wonderful that they themselves should have escaped, considering the fury with which the whale attacked the boat. Thus was the last link broken which, as it were, connected me with my lost relations, and I might say that I had not a friend in the world. All I knew about myself was that Jack had saved me from the wreck of a ship called the ‘Dove,’ which, with my name, ‘Tom Holman,’ he had tattooed on my arm. He had also put into a tin case the belt I had on and one or two other little articles, which tin case was in his chest. It was unanimously agreed on board that I should be his heir, so I succeeded to the chest, the chief article of value in which was the tin case. I took it out, and have ever since preserved it carefully, though with little hope of finding it of use. I had become very fond of reading, and had read all the books in the captain’s cabin. There were not many of them, and there was not one which had religion in it, and I am very certain that there was not a Bible on board. I only knew that there was such a book from the captain, who had read it at home, and I heard him only a few days before his death regretting that he had not got one. I believe our ship was not worse than others, and to the best of my belief not one of the South Sea whalers we fell in with had a Bible on board. The crews, as a rule, were lawless reprobates, and the masters petty tyrants, who cared nothing for the men, provided they would work to get their ships full. We sailed for England by the way of Cape Horn. I wished to go there because I wished to see what sort of a country it was, and to enjoy the amusements of which I heard the men talking. We had a prosperous passage till we were in the latitude of the Falkland Islands, when we were caught in a heavy gale, and after knocking about for some time in thick weather, when no observation could be obtained, we found ourselves with breakers under our lee, and a rocky shore beyond. The masts were cut away and anchors let go, but to no purpose; the ship parting from her anchors was driven on the rocks. Nearly half the crew were washed away, and the rest of us succeeded in gaining the shore, soon after which the ship went to pieces, and all the cargo which we had toiled so hard to collect was returned to the sea from whence it was obtained. Very few provisions came on shore, but there was a fair supply of canvas and plenty of ropes. We at once therefore put up a tent for ourselves, and placed all our more valuable possessions under cover. With some spars which came on shore we formed a lofty flagstaff, on which we hoisted a flag, in the hope that it might be seen by some passing vessel. There were springs of good water near the shore, and as long as our provisions lasted we got on pretty well, but when they began to fail the men looked at each other and asked, ‘What next?’

“‘Oh, some ship must be passing soon, and will take us off,’ cried out two or three, who were unwilling to be placed on reduced rations.

“‘But suppose no ship does pass, lads, what will you do? I have to tell you that, with the greatest economy, our provisions will not last another ten days,’ said the first mate, who was now captain. ‘It is barren and sandy here, but maybe, if we push our way across the island, we may find a richer country, and some animals on which we may live.’

“Some agreed to the mate’s proposal, others determined to remain on the sea-shore. I accompanied the mate. The provisions were equally divided, and those who remained said they would try and catch some fish, in case theirs ran short.