He then turned to Mr. Fisher, and told him there was no hope for him!!—“You have got to die,” said he, “remember the scrape you got me into, when in company with the Enterprise of Nantucket.” The “scrape” alluded to, was as follows. Comstock came up to Mr. Fisher to wrestle with him.—Fisher being the most athletick of the two, handled him with so much ease, that Comstock in a fit of passion struck him. At this Fisher seized him, and laid him upon deck several times in a pretty rough manner.
Comstock then made some violent threats, which Fisher paid no attention to, but which now fell upon his soul with all the horrors of reality. Finding his cruel enemy deaf to his remonstrances, and entreaties, he said, “If there is no hope, I will at least die like a man!” and having by order of Comstock, turned back too, said in a firm voice, “I am ready!!”
Comstock then put the muzzle of the gun to his head, and fired, which instantly put an end to his existence!—Mr. Lumbert, during this time, was begging for life, although no doubt mortally wounded. Comstock, turned to him and said, “I am a bloody man! I have a bloody hand and will be avenged!” and again run him through the body with a bayonet! He then begged for a little water; “I’ll give you water,” said he, and once more plunging the weapon in his body, left him for dead!
Thus it appears that this more than demon, murdered with his own hand, the whole! Gladly would we wash from “memory’s waste” all remembrance of that bloody night. The compassionate reader, however, whose heart sickens within him, at the perusal, as does ours at the recital, of this tale of woe, will not, we hope, disapprove our publishing these melancholy facts to the world. As, through the boundless mercy of Providence, we have been restored, to the bosom of our families and homes, we deemed it a duty we owe to the world, to record our “unvarnished tale.”
CHAPTER II.
Smith, the other boat-steerer, who had been marked as one of the victims, on hearing the noise in the cabin, went aft, apprehending an altercation between the Captain and some of the other officers, little dreaming that innocent blood was flowing in torrents. But what was his astonishment, when he beheld Comstock, brandishing the boarding knife, and heard him exclaim, “I am the bloody man, and will have revenge!” Horror struck, he hurried forward, and asked the crew in the forecastle, what he should do. Some urged him to secrete himself in the hold, others to go aloft until Comstock’s rage should be abated; but alas! the reflection that the ship afforded no secure hiding place, determined him to confront the ringleader, and if he could not save his life by fair means, to sell it dearly! He was soon called for by Comstock, who upon meeting him, threw his bloody arms around his neck, and embracing him, said, “you are going to be with us, are you not?” The reader will discover the good policy of Smith when he unhesitatingly answered, “Oh, yes, I will do any thing you require.”
All hands were now called to make sail, and a light at the same time was set as a signal for the Lyra to tack;—while the Globe was kept upon the same tack, which very soon caused a separation of the two ships. All the reefs were turned out, top-gallant-sails set, and all sail made on the ship, the wind being quite light.
The mutineers then threw the body of the Captain overboard, after wantonly piercing his bowels with a boarding knife, which was driven with an axe, until the point protruded from his throat!! In Mr. Beetle, the mate, the lamp of life had not entirely gone out, but he was committed to the deep.