West Virginia Argus

A PLOT THAT FAILED.

In the year that our civil war broke out I left Honolulu for a trading trip among the islands to the South, but being more particularly bound for the Paumotu Islands, which lie to the south-east, on the Tropic of Capricorn. There are fifteen or twenty groups of islands in the South Pacific, and while the residents of some are civilized and living like white folks, there are others inhabited by scoundrelly gangs. There are about thirty islands, large and small, in the Paumotu group, and in 1861 there wasn't a native among them, who was not a thief and a liar when dealing with white men. I think there were two or three English missionaries on the larger island at the date I mention, but their influence was limited. The natives were a sneaking lot, always playing for some point of advantage, and were rather held in contempt by the traders. They would cheat, steal and lie, but no one supposed them brave enough to attack a vessel.

Our craft was a fine, new schooner built on the model of a fruiter, and one of the fastest crafts ever propelled by wind power. She was also easy to handle, and carried a dry deck through seas which would have wet a frigate fore and aft. She was commanded by Captain Walters, a very competent man, while I had the berth of first mate. Our second was a Mr. Sheppard, and we had six men before the mast. We were loaded with articles of traffic, and our armament consisted of one six-pounder on a carriage and a dozen swords and muskets. The Captain had made two previous voyages to the islands, and he had a very poor opinion of the courage of the natives.

We had an uneventful voyage to within one hundred miles of the islands, when we encountered the brig Frisco, which had also been on a trading voyage. She showed a signal of distress, and I was ordered to go aboard in response. Her original crew of ten men had been reduced one-half, and the Captain was in need of the services of a surgeon, having a bad scalp wound and two cuts on the shoulder. Three days before, as the brig had completed her cargo, the natives had made a determined effort to capture her. Three of her crew had been killed, one drowned, and a fifth carried off as a prisoner, and only one man of the five remaining had escaped being wounded. In repelling the natives thirty or forty of them had been slaughtered, and the Captain's advice to us was to seek some other port. We could not spare the brig any hands, but we fixed up the wounds as well as we could, our Captain went aboard to hear the particulars of the fight, and when the vessels separated we held to our original course.

"I am not to be scared out by his yarn, Mr. Winters," he said to me. "I know those natives, and I know that they haven't the courage of sheep. I suspect that the crew of the brig and the natives went on a big drunk together, and that whisky brought about a quarrel, in which sailors knifed each other."

"But it won't be much trouble to take proper precautions," I replied.

"Oh, you will have full charge when we get on trading grounds, as I will have to look after the barter. Take such precautions as you like, though I think it will be trouble for nothing. My bump of caution is decidedly prominent. As a sailor I always preferred to snug down and store away before the storm broke." I got up the cutlasses and found them about as sharp as spades. The muskets were rusty and out of repair, and the caps and bullets stowed away where I had a long hunt to find them. We were in sight of the Islands before I had the arms in good shape, and the Captain had indulged in more than one chuckle over my efforts.

There were three or four rulers distributed about the groups, but the head man recognized by the traders was known by the title of "Old Lop." His left shoulder was badly down and he was old and skinny. Instead of being called lop-shouldered, the sailors gave him the briefer and more expressive nickname of "Old Lop."

He lived on an island known to us in those days as the Horseshoe, and this was about the centre of the group. There were safe channels among the isles, and a craft lying off the Horseshoe was perfectly sheltered in any sort of weather. We were a whole day making our way through the channels, and it struck me as very curious that all the native boats kept well out of hail. We sighted a score or more of them, but they wanted nothing of us. In three or four cases where the Captain bawled at them through his trumpet we heard their defiance in answer.

When we reached our anchorage it was nearly dusk. Only one boat came off to us, and the native who boarded us acted to me like a man bent on some errand of mischief. He said that trade was dull and Old Lop sick of fever, but that he would see on the morrow what could be done. Our Captain was the only one aboard who could talk the lingo, and for reasons of his own he did not let on that he had encountered the brig or had a suspicion that anything had happened. As soon as night came I put the watch under arms, and twice during the night we heard sounds to prove that we were being spied upon.

Next morning, however, things assumed a different look. Several boats came off, the Captain was invited ashore, and a messenger from Old Lop said that trade would be good. We wanted dyewoods, roots, barks, cocoanut kernels, and other products, and when the Captain landed he had assurances that we could fill up in a week. Not a native had a word to say about the brig, but the Captain soon saw broken heads enough to satisfy him that there had been a row. Old Lop had been knocked silly by a blow from a capstan bar, instead of having fever, and the women had blackened their thumbs as they never do except when in mourning.

We lay at anchor a quarter of a mile from the beach, and when the Captain returned he gave orders to have the schooner taken into a little cove within biscuit throw of the sand. The natives had complained that it was too much work to pull the cargo out to us. I asked the Captain if it didn't look like a plot to get us in a helpless situation, and he laughed and replied:

"The row with the brig will last these fellows for a good while yet. They don't seem to cry for me as they did when he was here before, but there's plenty of trade, and we'll get 'em good-natured after a bit. You've got charge, and you can point your guns as you like."

We pulled the schooner into the cove, and for three days the natives brought us stuff as fast as we could stow it away. The Captain spent most of his time ashore, and whenever he came aboard it was to announce that the natives were in better humor, and that we need not be apprehensive. Had I not had all the men with me in my suspicions I should no doubt have relaxed my vigilance. Each sailor, however, by catching on to this or that, was satisfied that danger menaced, and was only too glad to see preparations made to meet it. I had the cannon loaded with whatever would answer for canister, muskets and cutlasses kept ready, and would not allow over ten natives aboard at once. They had bows and arrows and spears and clubs, with now and then an old musket, and each one who came had to leave all weapons behind. On the third day I saw no less than three of them cut a notch on a stick to represent each one of us, and those who came aboard had a smack of the impudent in their demeanor.

On the fourth morning not a native came off to us, and when the Captain went ashore with a new stock of liquor to propitiate Old Lop he found that it was a holiday with the people, and that all were excused from work. He sent me word to let all go ashore who wished, and when I made the announcement every hand was off except one. A foremast man named Parker, a steady, middle-aged man, finding that I was to stay, asked that he might keep me company, and we had scarcely been left alone when he said:

"Mr. Winters, I beg your pardon for being so bold of speech, but I don't like the looks of things ashore."

"Nor I, either."

"I am glad, sir, that we are agreed, for I think there'll be throat-cutting done before night. I haven't been easy at all since we dropped anchor here. I've been among the Feejee, Tonga, Phoenix, Union and other groups, and these chaps are too saucy for men who haven't got a plot on hand."

"And what do you think of the holiday?"

"All moonshine, sir. It is an excuse to get all of us ashore. These natives have a holiday every day in the year, so far as that goes. It isn't for the likes of me to give you advice, but I think we should get ready for a row."

I thought so, too. We took the cover off the mainsail and hoisted it part way up, ran up the jib, uncovered the foresail, and acted as two men might who were caring for a craft at anchor. We lay headed toward the channel, as the tide was running in, and had only enough chain out to let her swing. We overhauled the cable, and fixed it for slipping, got the cannon aft, where it could have a raking fire, and were then as ready as we two men could be. Ashore all was hilarity and confusion, with natives marching up and down, and beating their drums and blowing their horns. We had made the preparations spoken of, when the Captain sent one of the men off to us to tell us to come ashore, as everybody was having a good time. I questioned the messenger closely, but he had seen nothing suspicious. I sent word that we might come soon, but did not intend to move a foot. Two hours passed, and we had remarked that the tide had just turned, when old Lop sent us a pressing invitation, backed by a second message from the Captain. The sailor had been aloft with the glass, and on coming down reported that our men were acting as if drunk, and that every native appeared to be armed. I sent word back that I would not leave the schooner, and half an hour later the expected climax came. We heard a general howling and shouting, and Parker, who was again aloft, hurried down to report that he had seen three of our crew clubbed to death. He had scarcely gained the deck when about 200 natives made a rush for the canoes drawn up opposite us. While we were not more than 100 feet from the shore, in water about three fathoms deep, the natives had to swim or take to their canoes. There were lots of sharks in the cove, and so none of them ventured to plunge in.

While Parker ran to slip the cable I ran aft to the wheel. There was a bit of a breeze, and favorable at that, while the run of the tide alone would take us slowly out. Time was what we wanted, and seeing that the canoes were ready to shove off I trained the gun a little lower, applied my lighted cigar to the priming, and no one discharge from a six-pounder ever had a greater effect. It destroyed three or four canoes, killed or wounded a score of natives, and the smoke had scarcely blown away before the schooner began moving. The natives were checked for the moment, giving us time to hoist the mainsail a little higher, and when they began the pursuit we were moving down the channel at about three miles an hour.

It was lucky that I had cleaned up the muskets and prepared a plenty of ammunition. But for the firearms we would have been boarded with a rush, for upward of a hundred natives crowded into canoes to pursue. The channel was narrow, but well defined, and while I had the wheel and kept her going Parker was busy with the muskets. He fired in turn at each canoe, and whenever he hit a man he threw all into confusion and checked pursuit for several minutes. By and by he got time enough to reload the cannon, and this time he rammed in a solid shot. The natives seemed to look upon it as a gun which had only one speech or report, and though the solid shot hit no one, their confusion was very great. Soon after this Parker killed a man in the foremost canoe, and then all fell back.

We now got the foresail on her and the other jibs, and the schooner crept along so fast that pursuit was given over, much to our satisfaction. We kept to the southward, following the channels between the islands, until about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, when we met the trading schooner Junta, owned by our same firm, which had loaded at the Tubai Islands, and was going to add a few more packages at the Horseshoe. We divided the crews and sailed around to the Tongas, where two whalers were refitting. We here got enough volunteers to increase our number to fifty, borrowed muskets and cutlasses, and returned to Old Lop's headquarters in the Horseshoe. It showed light when we landed, but soon became panic stricken and ceased resistance. We first made sure that all our men had been murdered, and then the men were let loose for revenge. They were a wild lot, and they felt it necessary to teach the natives a lesson, and the hunting and killing went on for three days. Neither age nor sex met with mercy, and the number of victims must have counted up fully 200.

The Horseshoe was, in fact, depopulated, and since that time no native in any of the groups has dared to raise his hand against a white man, much less plot the slaughter of a crew and the taking of a ship.-New York Sun.