CHAPTER 7

July 10. Spoke a brig from Rio, bound to Norfolk. Weather hazy,

with a light baffling wind from the eastward. To-day Hartman

Rogers died, having been attacked on the eighth with spasms after

drinking a glass of grog. This man was of the cook’s party, and

one upon whom Peters placed his main reliance. He told Augustus

that he believed the mate had poisoned him, and that he expected,

if he did not be on the look-out, his own turn would come

shortly. There were now only himself, Jones, and the cook

belonging to his own gang—on the other side there were five. He

had spoken to Jones about taking the command from the mate; but

the project having been coolly received, he had been deterred

from pressing the matter any further, or from saying any thing to

the cook. It was well, as it happened, that he was so prudent,

for in the afternoon the cook expressed his determination of

siding with the mate, and went over formally to that party; while

Jones took an opportunity of quarrelling with Peters, and hinted

that he would let the mate know of the plan in agitation. There

was now, evidently, no time to be lost, and Peters expressed his

determination of attempting to take the vessel at all hazards,

provided Augustus would lend him his aid. My friend at once

assured him of his willingness to enter into any plan for that

purpose, and, thinking the opportunity a favourable one, made

known the fact of my being on board. At this the hybrid was not

more astonished than delighted, as he had no reliance whatever

upon Jones, whom he already considered as belonging to the party

of the mate. They went below immediately, when Augustus called to

me by name, and Peters and myself were soon made acquainted. It

was agreed that we should attempt to retake the vessel upon the

first good opportunity, leaving Jones altogether out of our

councils. In the event of success, we were to run the brig into

the first port that offered, and deliver her up. The desertion of

his party had frustrated Peters’ design of going into the

Pacific—an adventure which could not be accomplished without a

crew, and he depended upon either getting acquitted upon trial,

on the score of insanity (which he solemnly avowed had actuated

him in lending his aid to the mutiny), or upon obtaining a

pardon, if found guilty, through the representations of Augustus

and myself. Our deliberations were interrupted for the present by

the cry of, “All hands take in sail,” and Peters and Augustus ran

up on deck.

As usual, the crew were nearly all drunk; and, before sail could

be properly taken in, a violent squall laid the brig on her

beam-ends. By keeping her away, however, she righted, having

shipped a good deal of water. Scarcely was everything secure,

when another squall took the vessel, and immediately afterward

another—no damage being done. There was every appearance of a

gale of wind, which, indeed, shortly came on, with great fury,

from the northward and westward. All was made as snug as

possible, and we laid-to, as usual, under a close-reefed

foresail. As night drew on, the wind increased in violence, with

a remarkably heavy sea. Peters now came into the forecastle with

Augustus, and we resumed our deliberations.

We agreed that no opportunity could be more favourable than the

present for carrying our designs into effect, as an attempt at

such a moment would never be anticipated. As the brig was snugly

laid-to, there would be no necessity of manoeuvring her until

good weather, when, if we succeeded in our attempt, we might

liberate one, or perhaps two of the men, to aid us in taking her

into port. The main difficulty was the great disproportion in our

forces. There were only three of us, and in the cabin there were

nine. All the arms on board, too, were in their possession, with

the exception of a pair of small pistols which Peters had

concealed about his person, and the large seaman’s knife which he

always wore in the waistband of his pantaloons. From certain

indications, too—such, for example, as there being no such thing

as an axe or a handspike lying in their customary places—we began

to fear that the mate had his suspicions, at least in regard to

Peters, and that he would let slip no opportunity of getting rid

of him. It was clear, indeed, that what we should determine to do

could not be done too soon. Still the odds were too much against

us to allow of our proceeding without the greatest caution.

Peters proposed that he should go up on deck, and enter into

conversation with the watch (Allen), when he would be able to

throw him into the sea without trouble, and without making any

disturbance, by seizing a good opportunity, that Augustus and

myself should then come up, and endeavour to provide ourselves

with some kind of weapons from the deck, and that we should then

make a rush together, and secure the companion-way before any

opposition could be offered. I objected to this, because I could

not believe that the mate (who was a cunning fellow in all

matters which did not affect his superstitious prejudices) would

suffer himself to be so easily entrapped. The very fact of there

being a watch on deck at all was sufficient proof that he was

upon the alert,—it not being usual except in vessels where

discipline is most rigidly enforced, to station a watch on deck

when a vessel is lying-to in a gale of wind. As I address myself

principally, if not altogether, to persons who have never been to

sea, it may be as well to state the exact condition of a vessel

under such circumstances. Lying-to, or, in sea-parlance,

“laying-to,” is a measure resorted to for various purposes, and

effected in various manners. In moderate weather it is frequently

done with a view of merely bringing the vessel to a stand-still,

to wait for another vessel or any similar object. If the vessel

which lies-to is under full sail, the manoeuvre is usually

accomplished by throwing round some portion of her sails, so as

to let the wind take them aback, when she becomes stationary. But

we are now speaking of lying-to in a gale of wind. This is done

when the wind is ahead, and too violent to admit of carrying sail

without danger of capsizing; and sometimes even when the wind is

fair, but the sea too heavy for the vessel to be put before it.

If a vessel be suffered to scud before the wind in a very heavy

sea, much damage is usually done her by the shipping of water

over her stern, and sometimes by the violent plunges she makes

forward. This manoeuvre, then, is seldom resorted to in such

case, unless through necessity. When the vessel is in a leaky

condition she is often put before the wind even in the heaviest

seas; for, when lying-to, her seams are sure to be greatly opened

by her violent straining, and it is not so much the case when

scudding. Often, too, it becomes necessary to scud a vessel,

either when the blast is so exceedingly furious as to tear in

pieces the sail which is employed with a view of bringing her

head to the wind, or when, through the false modelling of the

frame or other causes, this main object cannot be effected.

Vessels in a gale of wind are laid-to in different manners,

according to their peculiar construction. Some lie-to best under

a foresail, and this, I believe, is the sail most usually

employed. Large square-rigged vessels have sails for the express

purpose, called storm-staysails. But the jib is occasionally

employed by itself,—sometimes the jib and foresail, or a

double-reefed foresail, and not unfrequently the after-sails, are

made use of. Foretopsails are very often found to answer the

purpose better than any other species of sail. The Grampus was

generally laid-to under a close-reefed foresail.

When a vessel is to be laid-to, her head is brought up to the

wind just so nearly as to fill the sail under which she lies when

hauled flat aft, that is, when brought diagonally across the

vessel. This being done, the bows point within a few degrees of

the direction from which the wind issues, and the windward bow of

course receives the shock of the waves. In this situation a good

vessel will ride out a very heavy gale of wind without shipping a

drop of water, and without any further attention being requisite

on the part of the crew. The helm is usually lashed down, but

this is altogether unnecessary (except on account of the noise it

makes when loose), for the rudder has no effect upon the vessel

when lying-to. Indeed, the helm had far better be left loose than

lashed very fast, for the rudder is apt to be torn off by heavy

seas if there be no room for the helm to play. As long as the

sail holds, a well modelled vessel will maintain her situation,

and ride every sea, as if instinct with life and reason. If the

violence of the wind, however, should tear the sail into pieces

(a feat which it requires a perfect hurricane to accomplish under

ordinary circumstances), there is then imminent danger. The

vessel falls off from the wind, and, coming broadside to the sea,

is completely at its mercy: the only resource in this case is to

put her quietly before the wind, letting her scud until some

other sail can be set. Some vessels will lie-to under no sail

whatever, but such are not to be trusted at sea.

But to return from this digression. It had never been customary

with the mate to have any watch on deck when lying-to in a gale

of wind, and the fact that he had now one, coupled with the

circumstance of the missing axes and handspikes, fully convinced

us that the crew were too well on the watch to be taken by

surprise in the manner Peters had suggested. Something, however,

was to be done, and that with as little delay as practicable, for

there could be no doubt that a suspicion having been once

entertained against Peters, he would be sacrificed upon the

earliest occasion, and one would certainly be either found or

made upon the breaking of the gale.

Augustus now suggested that if Peters could contrive to remove,

under any pretext, the piece of chain-cable which lay over the

trap in the stateroom, we might possibly be able to come upon

them unawares by means of the hold; but a little reflection

convinced us that the vessel rolled and pitched too violently for

any attempt of that nature.

By good fortune I at length hit upon the idea of working upon the

superstitious terrors and guilty conscience of the mate. It will

be remembered that one of the crew, Hartman Rogers, had died

during the morning, having been attacked two days before with

spasms after drinking some spirits and water. Peters had

expressed to us his opinion that this man had been poisoned by

the mate, and for this belief he had reasons, so he said, which

were incontrovertible, but which he could not be prevailed upon

to explain to us—this wayward refusal being only in keeping with

other points of his singular character. But whether or not he had

any better grounds for suspecting the mate than we had ourselves,

we were easily led to fall in with his suspicion, and determined

to act accordingly.

Rogers had died about eleven in the forenoon, in violent

convulsions; and the corpse presented in a few minutes after

death one of the most horrid and loathsome spectacles I ever

remember to have seen. The stomach was swollen immensely, like

that of a man who has been drowned and lain under water for many

weeks. The hands were in the same condition, while the face was

shrunken, shrivelled, and of a chalky whiteness, except where

relieved by two or three glaring red blotches like those

occasioned by the erysipelas: one of these blotches extended

diagonally across the face, completely covering up an eye as if

with a band of red velvet. In this disgusting condition the body

had been brought up from the cabin at noon to be thrown

overboard, when the mate getting a glimpse of it (for he now saw

it for the first time), and being either touched with remorse for

his crime or struck with terror at so horrible a sight, ordered

the men to sew the body up in its hammock, and allow it the usual

rites of sea-burial. Having given these directions, he went

below, as if to avoid any further sight of his victim. While

preparations were making to obey his orders, the gale came on

with great fury, and the design was abandoned for the present.

The corpse, left to itself, was washed into the larboard

scuppers, where it still lay at the time of which I speak,

floundering about with the furious lurches of the brig.

Having arranged our plan, we set about putting it in execution as

speedily as possible. Peters went upon deck, and, as he had

anticipated, was immediately accosted by Allen, who appeared to

be stationed more as a watch upon the forecastle than for any

other purpose. The fate of this villain, however, was speedily

and silently decided; for Peters, approaching him in a careless

manner, as if about to address him, seized him by the throat,

and, before he could utter a single cry, tossed him over the

bulwarks. He then called to us, and we came up. Our first

precaution was to look about for something with which to arm

ourselves, and in doing this we had to proceed with great care,

for it was impossible to stand on deck an instant without holding

fast, and violent seas broke over the vessel at every plunge

forward. It was indispensable, too, that we should be quick in

our operations, for every minute we expected the mate to be up to

set the pumps going, as it was evident the brig must be taking in

water very fast. After searching about for some time, we could

find nothing more fit for our purpose than the two pump-handles,

one of which Augustus took, and I the other. Having secured

these, we stripped off the shirt of the corpse and dropped the

body overboard. Peters and myself then went below, leaving

Augustus to watch upon deck, where he took his station just where

Allen had been placed, and with his back to the cabin

companionway, so that, if any of the mate's gang should come up,

he might suppose it was the watch.

As soon as I got below I commenced disguising myself so as to

represent the corpse of Rogers. The shirt which we had taken from

the body aided us very much, for it was of singular form and

character, and easily recognizable—a kind of smock, which the

deceased wore over his other clothing. It was a blue stockinett,

with large white stripes running across. Having put this on, I

proceeded to equip myself with a false stomach, in imitation of

the horrible deformity of the swollen corpse. This was soon

effected by means of stuffing with some bedclothes. I then gave

the same appearance to my hands by drawing on a pair of white

woollen mittens, and filling them in with any kind of rags that

offered themselves. Peters then arranged my face, first rubbing

it well over with white chalk, and afterward blotching it with

blood, which he took from a cut in his finger. The streak across

the eye was not forgotten and presented a most shocking

appearance.