"But Saxtorph.One night I'd just got to sleep, when a couple of cats began to sing in the courtyard.It was out of bed and up window, water jug in hand.But just then I heard the window of the next room go up.Two shots were fired, and the window was closed.I fail to impress you with the celerity of the transaction.Ten seconds at the outside.Up went the window, bang bang went the revolver, and down went the window.Whoever it was, he had never stopped to see the effect of his shots.He knew.Do you follow me?--he KNEW.There was no more cat concert, and in the morning there lay the two offenders, stone dead.It was marvelous to me.It still is marvelous.First, it was starlight, and Saxtorph shot without drawing a bead; next, he shot so rapidly that the two reports were like a double report; and finally, he knew he had hit his marks without looking to see.
"Two days afterward he came on board to see me.I was mate, then, on the Duchess, a whacking big one-hundred-and fifty-ton schooner, ablackbirder.And let me tell you that blackbirders were blackbirders in those days.There weren't any government protection for US, either.It was rough work, give and take, if we were finished, and nothing said, and we ran niggers from every south sea island they didn't kick us off from.Well, Saxtorph came on board, John Saxtorph was the name he gave.He was a sandy little man, hair sandy, complexion sandy, and eyes sandy, too.Nothing striking about him.His soul was as neutral as his color scheme.He said he was strapped and wanted to ship on board.Would go cabin boy, cook, supercargo, or common sailor.Didn't know anything about any of the billets, but said that he was willing to learn.I didn't want him, but his shooting had so impressed me that I took him as common sailor, wages three pounds per month.
"He was willing to learn all right, I'll say that much.But he was constitutionally unable to learn anything.He could no more box the compass than I could mix drinks like Roberts here.And as for steering, he gave me my first gray hairs.I never dared risk him at the wheel when we were running in a big sea, while full-and-by and close-and-by were insoluble mysteries.Couldn't ever tell the difference between a sheet and a tackle, simply couldn't.The fore-throat-jig and the jib-jig were all one to him.Tell him to slack off the mainsheet, and before you know it, he'd drop the peak.He fell overboard three times, and he couldn't swim.But he was always cheerful, never seasick, and he was the most willing man I ever knew.He was an uncommunicative soul.Never talked about himself.His history, so far as we were concerned, began the day he signed on the DUCHESS.Where he learned to shoot, the stars alone can tell.He was a Yankee--that much we knew from the twang in his speech.And that was all we ever did know.
"And now we begin to get to the point.We had bad luck in the New Hebrides, only fourteen boys for five weeks, and we ran up before the southeast for the Solomons.'malaita, then as now, was good recruiting ground, and we ran into Malu, on the northwestern corner.There's a shore reef and an outer reef, and a mighty nervous anchorage; but we made it all right and fired off our dynamite as a signal to the niggers to come down and be recruited.In three days we got not a boy.The niggers came off tous in their canoes by hundreds, but they only laughed when we showed them beads and calico and hatchets and talked of the delights of plantation work in Samoa.
"On the fourth day there came a change.Fifty-odd boys signed on and were billeted in the main-hold, with the freedom of the deck, of course.And of course, looking back, this wholesale signing on was suspicious, but at the time we thought some powerful chief had removed the ban against recruiting.The morning of the fifth day our two boats went ashore as usual--one to cover the other, you know, in case of trouble.And, as usual, the fifty niggers on board were on deck, loafing, talking, smoking, and sleeping.Saxtorph and myself, along with four other sailors, were all that were left on board.The two boats were manned with Gilbert Islanders.In the one were the captain, the supercargo, and the recruiter.In the other, which was the covering boat and which lay off shore a hundred yards, was the second mate.Both boats were well-armed, though trouble was little expected.
"Four of the sailors, including Saxtorph, were scraping the poop rail.The fifth sailor, rifle in hand, was standing guard by the water-tank just for'ard of the mainmast.I was for'ard, putting in the finishing licks on a new jaw for the fore-gaff.I was just reaching for my pipe where I had laid it down, when I heard a shot from shore.I straightened up to look.Something struck me on the back of the head, partially stunning me and knocking me to the deck.'my first thought was that something had carried away aloft; but even as I went down, and before I struck the deck, I heard the devil's own tattoo of rifles from the boats, and twisting sidewise, I caught a glimpse of the sailor who was standing guard.Two big niggers were holding his arms, and a third nigger from behind was braining him with a tomahawk.
"I can see it now, the water-tank, the mainmast, the gang hanging on to him, the hatchet descending on the back of his head, and all under the blazing sunlight.I was fascinated by that growing vision of death.The tomahawk seemed to take a horribly long time to come down.I saw it land, and the man's legs give under him as he crumpled.The niggers held him up by sheer strength while he was hacked a couple of times more.Then Igot two more hacks on the head and decided that I was dead.So did the brute that was hacking me.I was too helpless to move, and I lay there and watched them removing the sentry's head.I must say they did it slick enough.They were old hands at the business.
