murder!

the planting time came round at pitcairn, and all was busy activity in the little settlement at bounty bay. the women, engaged in household work and in the preparation of food, scarcely troubled themselves to cast an anxious eye on the numerous children who, according to age and capacity, rolled, tumbled, staggered, and jumped about in noisy play. the sun, streaming through the leaves of the woods, studded shady places with balls of quivering light, and blazed in fierce heat in the open where the men were at work, each in his respective garden. we have said that those gardens lay apart, at some distance from each other, and were partially concealed by shrubs or undulating knolls.

the garden of john williams was farthest off from the settlement. he wrought in it alone on the day of which we write. next to it was that of fletcher christian. he also worked alone that day.

about two hundred yards from his garden, and screened from it by a wooded rising ground, was a piece of plantation, in which john mills, william mccoy, and menalee were at work together. john adams, william brown, and isaac martin were working in their own gardens near their respective houses, and quintal was resting in his hut. so was edward young, who, having been at work since early morning, had lain down and fallen into a deep slumber.

the three native men, timoa, nehow, and tetaheite, were still away in the woods. if the unfortunate englishmen had known what these men were about, they would not have toiled so quietly on that peaceful morning!

the otaheitans met in a cocoa-nut grove at some distance to the eastward of the settlement. each had a musket, which he loaded with ball. they did not speak much, and what they did say was uttered in a suppressed tone of voice.

“come,” said timoa, leading the way through the woods.

the others followed in single file, until they reached the garden where williams was at work. here their movements were more cautious. as they advanced, they crept along on their knees with the motion of cats, and with as little noise. they could hear the sound of the armourer’s spade, as he turned up the soil. presently they came to an opening in the bushes, through which they could see him, not thirty yards off.

timoa drew himself together, and in a crouching attitude levelled his musket.

during their absence in the woods, these men had practised shooting at a mark, doubtless in preparation for the occasion which had now arrived. the woods and cliffs rang to the loud report, and williams fell forward without 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 some one must have taken a fancy for a bit of pork to supper, and then resumed 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 his forehead, and resting both hands on his spade, looked upwards at the bright blue sky. fleecy clouds passed across it now and then, intensifying its depth, and apparently riveting christian’s gaze, for he continued motionless for several minutes, with his clear eye fixed on the blue vault, and a sad, wistful expression on his handsome face, as if memory, busy with the past and future, had forgotten the present. it was his last look. a bullet from the bushes struck him at that moment on the breast. uttering one short, sharp cry, he threw both hands high above his head, and fell backwards. the spasm of pain was but momentary. the sad, wistful look was replaced by a quiet smile. he never 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 murderers came forward, but the quiet smile remained, and his spirit returned to god who gave it.

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

“did you hear that cry?” said mccoy, raising himself from his work in the 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 mainmast callin’ her husband to dinner.”

as he spoke, tetaheite appeared at the edge of the garden with a musket in his hand, the other two natives remaining concealed in the bushes.

“ho, missr mills,” he called out, in his broken english, “me have just shoot 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 had expected, 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 hastily detailed a plan, which they proceeded at once to carry out.

creeping round through the woods, they managed to get into mccoy’s house by a back window, unobserved. menalee then ran down to the garden, as if in a state of great excitement.

“oh, missr mccoy, timoa and nehow hab come down from mountain, an’ is robbin’ you house!”

the bait took. mccoy ran up to his house. as soon as he reached the door 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, being the stronger man, twisted himself suddenly round, grasped menalee by the waist with both hands, and flung him headlong into a neighbouring pig-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 black scoundrels have united to murder us.”

he set the example by at once disappearing in the thick bush. but mills did not believe him. he and menalee had always been good friends, and he seemed to think it impossible that they would kill him. he hesitated, and the hesitation cost him his life, for next moment a bullet laid him low.

meanwhile mccoy ran to warn christian. reaching his garden, he found him there, dead, with the tranquil smile still on his cold lips, and the now glazed eyes still gazing upwards. one glance sufficed. he turned and ran back to christian’s house to tell his wife what he had seen, but the poor woman was sick in bed at the time and could not move. running then to quintal’s garden, he found him alive, but quite ignorant of what was going on.

“they seem to be wastin’ a deal of powder to-day,” he growled, without raising 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 chanced to 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. i shall look after number one.”

accordingly, with his friend of kindred spirit, he sought refuge in the bush.

mrs quintal had no desire to see all the white men slaughtered by her countrymen. she therefore started off at once, and in passing the garden 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 the others, had heard the firing, but had only thought of it as a foolish waste of ammunition. nothing was further from his thoughts on that peaceful day and hour than deeds of violence and bloodshed. he therefore continued at work.

the four murderers, meanwhile, ran down to isaac martin’s house, found him in the garden, and pointing their muskets at him, pulled the triggers. the pieces missed fire, and poor martin, thinking probably that it was a practical joke, laughed at them. they cocked again, however, and fired. martin, although he fell mortally wounded, had strength to rise again and fly towards his house. the natives followed him 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 now rushed in a body to brown’s garden. the botanist had been somewhat surprised at the frequent firing, but like his unfortunate fellow-countrymen, appeared to have not the remotest suspicion of what was going on. the sight of the natives, however, quickly opened his eyes. he turned as if to fly, but before he could gain the bushes, a well-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, for after the last tragic act they remained for some time in front of brown’s house talking, and resting their hands on the muzzles of their guns.

all this time edward young was lying asleep in ignorance of what was being done, and purposely kept in ignorance by the women. having been told by quintal’s wife, they knew part of the terrible details of the massacre, but they had no power to check the murderers. they, however, adopted what means they could to shield young, who, as we have said, was a favourite with all the natives, and closed the door of the hut in which he lay to prevent his being awakened.

the suspicions of adams having at length been aroused, he went down to brown’s house to see what all the firing could be about. the children, meanwhile, having some vague fears that danger threatened, had run into their mother’s huts. everything passed so quickly, in fact, that few of the people had time to understand or think, or take action in any way.

reaching the edge of brown’s garden, and seeing the four otaheitans standing as we have described, adams stopped and called out to know what was the matter.

“silence,” shouted one of them, pointing his gun. being unarmed, and observing the body of brown on the ground, adams at once leaped into the bush and ran. he was hotly pursued by the four men, but being strong and swift of foot, he soon left them behind. in passing williams’s house, he went towards it, intending to snatch up some thick garments, and, if possible, a musket and ammunition, for he had no doubt now that some of his countrymen must have been killed, and that he would have to take to the bush along with them. an exclamation of horror escaped him when he came upon the armourer’s body. it needed no second glance to tell that his comrade was dead. passing into the house, he caught up an old blanket and a coat, but there was no musket. he knew that without arms he would be at the mercy of the savages. being a cool and courageous man, he therefore made a long détour through the bush until he reached his own house, and entered by a back window. his sick wife received 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 a while. 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. a ball, coming through the window, entered the back of his neck and came out at the front. he fell, but instantly sprang up and leaped through the doorway, where he was met by the four natives.

besides being a powerful man, adams was very active, and the wound in his neck was only a flesh one. he knocked down timoa, the foremost of the band, with one blow of his fist, and grappling with nehow, threw him violently over his prostrate comrade; but menalee, coming up at the moment, clubbed his musket and made a furious blow at adams’s head. he guarded it with one hand, and in so doing had one of his fingers broken. tetaheite and menalee then both sprang upon him, but he nearly throttled the one, tripped up the other, and, succeeding by a violent wrench in breaking loose, once more took to his heels.

in running, the otaheitans were no match for him. he gradually left them 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 his strength. his case was desperate. he formed a quick resolve and acted promptly. stopping, he turned about and walked slowly but steadily back towards the natives, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed sternly upon them.

“well, i have stopped, you see,” he said, on coming up. “i will take you 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 its owner, just roused by the noise of the scuffle with adams, listening to the explanations of the women, who were purposely trying to lead him astray lest he should go out and be shot. the entrance of the four natives, armed and covered with blood, and adams unarmed and wounded, at once showed him how matters stood.

“this is a terrible business,” he said in a low tone to adams, while the murderers were disputing noisily about going into the woods to hunt down mccoy and quintal. “have they killed many of our comrades?”

“god knows,” said adams, while quintal’s wife bound up the wound in his neck. “there has been firin’ enough to have killed us all twice over. i thought some of you were spending the ammunition foolishly on hogs or gulls. williams is dead, i know, and poor brown, for i saw their bodies, 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 to an agreement as to their future proceedings, loaded their muskets hastily, and rushing from the house soon disappeared in the woods.

we shall not harrow the reader’s feelings by following farther the bloody details of this massacre. let it suffice to add, briefly, that after retiring from a fruitless search for the white men in the bush, menalee quarrelled with timoa and shot him. this roused the anger of the other two against menalee, who fled to the bush and tried to make friends 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 his mistake, for they soon turned it on himself and killed him. then young’s wife, susannah, was induced to kill tetaheite with an axe, and young himself immediately after shot nehow.

when mccoy and quintal were told that all the otaheitan men were dead they returned to the settlement. it was a terrible scene of desolation and woe. even these two rough and heartless men were awed for a time into something like solemnity.

the men now left alive on the island were young, adams, quintal, and mccoy. in the households of these four the widows and children of the slain were distributed. the evidences of the bloody tragedy were removed, the murdered men were buried, and thus came to a close the first great epoch in the chequered history of pitcairn island.