 would induce a
shuddering acknowledgment, that if such an expression were indicative of
merriment, the merriment must be that of a demon. Of this singular being many
anecdotes were prevalent among the seafaring men of Nantucket. These anecdotes
went to prove his prodigious strength when under excitement, and some of them
had given rise to a doubt of his sanity. But on board the Grampus, it seems, he
was regarded, at the time of the mutiny, with feelings more of derision than of
any thing else. I have been thus particular in speaking of Dirk Peters, because,
ferocious as he appeared, he proved the main instrument in preserving the life
of Augustus, and because I shall have frequent occasion to mention him hereafter
in the course of my narrative - a narrative, let me here say which, in its later
portions, will be found to include incidents of a nature so entirely out of the
range of human experience, and for this reason so far beyond the limits of human
credulity, that I proceed in utter hopelessness of obtaining credence for all
that I shall tell, yet confidently trusting in time and progressing science to
verify some of the most important and most improbable of my statements.
    After much indecision and two or three violent quarrels, it was determined
at last that all the prisoners (with the exception of Augustus, whom Peters
insisted in a jocular manner upon keeping as his clerk) should be set adrift in
one of the smallest whale-boats. The mate went down into the cabin to see if
Captain Barnard was still living - for, it will be remembered, he was left below
when the mutineers came up. Presently the two made their appearance, the captain
pale as death, but somewhat recovered from the effects of his wound. He spoke to
the men in a voice hardly articulate, entreated them not to set him adrift, but
to return to their duty, and promising to land them wherever they chose, and to
take no steps for bringing them to justice. He might as well have spoken to the
winds. Two of the ruffians seized him by the arms and hurled him over the brig's
side into the boat, which had been lowered while the mate went below. The four
men who were lying on the deck were then untied and ordered to follow, which
they did without attempting any resistance - Augustus being still left in his
painful position, although he struggled and prayed only for the poor
satisfaction of being permitted to bid his father farewell. A handful of
sea-biscuits and a jug of water were now handed down; but neither mast, sail,
