CHAPTER XXII.

Wooing a war dream—Companions in arms—The squaw of sacrifice—On the march—Bragging warriors—Deeds of Indian men of war—Swallowing an Indian’s horse—The belle of the party—An instance of Indian heroism—How to serve an enemy—Savage Duelists—A story of a precious scalp—The Indian warrior’s confidence in dreams—Concerning Indian canoes—A boat made up with stitches—Women boat-builders—Samoan warfare—The Samoans’ war tools and symbols—A narrow escape—“Perhaps upward the face!”—A massacre of Christians—Treachery of the Pine Islanders—The fate of “The Sisters”—The scoundrelly Norfolk Island men—A little story told by Mr. Coulter—The useful carronades—The “one unnecessary shot”—How it might have been.

Mr. Kohl informs us that, when a chief of the North-American Indians is meditating a war expedition, it is of the first importance that he should “dream” about it. He does not, however, choose to wait for his dream in the ordinary manner, but seats himself for the express purpose, concentrates his every thought on the subject, and seeks to gain good dreams for it before he proceeds to carry his war project into execution.

He keeps apart from his family, and, like a hermit, retires to a solitary lodge built expressly for the purpose. There he sits whole evenings on a mat, beating the drum and muttering gloomy magic songs, which he will break off to sigh and lament. He has all sorts of apparitions while lying in his bed; the spirits of his relatives murdered by the enemy visit him, and incite him to revenge. Other spirits come and show him the way into the enemy’s camp, promise him victory, tell him at times accurately where and how he will meet the foe and how many of them he will kill. If his drum and song are heard frequently in the evenings, a friend will come to him, and sitting down on the mat by his side will say: “What is the matter with thee, Black Cloud? Why dreamest thou? What grief is oppressing thee?” The Black Cloud then opens his heart, tells him how his father’s brother was scalped three years back by their hereditary enemies, the Sioux, his cousin last year, and so on, and how thoughts of his forefathers has now come to him. They have often appeared to him in his dreams and allowed him no rest with their entreaties for vengeance. He will tell him, too, a portion of the auguries and signs he has received in his dream about a brilliant victory he is destined to gain and of the ways and means that will conduct him to it. Still only a portion, for hegenerally keeps the main point to himself. It is his secret, just as among us the plan of the campaign is the commander-in-chief’s secret.

The friend, after listening to all this, if the affair seems promising, will take to the drum in his turn, and aid his friend with his dreams. The latter, if placing full confidence in him, appoints him his associate or adjutant, and both place themselves at the head of the undertaking. They always consider it better that there should be two leaders, in order that if the dreams of one have not strength enough the other may help him out.

These twochefs-de-guerrenow sit together the whole winter through, smoke countless pipes, beat the drum in turn, mutter magic songs the whole night, consult over the plan of operations, and send tobacco to their friends as an invitation to them to take part in the campaign. The winter is the season of consultation, for war is rarely carried on then, partly because the canoe could not be employed on the frozen lakes, and partly because the snow would betray their trail and the direction of their march too easily.

If the two are agreed on all points, if they have assembled a sufficient number of recruits and allies, and have also settled the time of the foray—for instance, arranged that the affair shall begin when the leaves are of such a size, or when such a tree is in blossom, and this time has at length arrived, they first arrange a universal war dance with their relatives and friends, at which the women are present, painted black like the men. The squaws appear at it with dishevelled hair, and with the down of the wild duck strewn over their heads. A similar war dance is also performed in the lodges of all the warriors who intend to take part in the expedition.

If the undertaking and the band of braves be at all important, it is usually accompanied by a maiden, whom they call “the squaw of sacrifice.” She is ordinarily dressed in white: among the Sioux, for instance, in a white tanned deer or buffalo robe, and a red cloth is wrapped round her head. Among several prairie tribes, as the Black-feet, this festally adorned sacrifice squaw leads a horse by the bridle, which carries a large medicine-bag, and a gaily decorated pipe. Among the Ojibbeways, who have no horses, and usually make their expeditions by water, this maiden is seated in a separate canoe.

When all have taken their places in full war-paint, they begin their melancholy death-song and push off.

If the expedition is really important—if the leader of the band is veryinfluential—he will have sent tobacco to other chiefs among his friends; and if they accept it, and divide it among many of their partisans, other war bands will have started simultaneously from the villages, and come together at the place of assembly already arranged.

They naturally take with them as little as possible, and are mostly half naked in order to march easily. They do not even burden themselves with much food, for they starve and fast along the road, not through any pressure of circumstances, but because this fasting is more or less a religious war custom.

They also observe all sorts of things along the road, which are in part most useful, precautionary measures, in part superstitious customs. Thus, they will never sit down in the shade of a tree, or scratch their heads, at least not with their fingers. The warriors, however, are permitted to scratch themselves with a piece of wood or a comb.

The young men who go on the war trail for the first time, have, like the women, a cloth or species of cap on the head, and usually walk with drooping head, speak little, or not at all, and are not allowed to join in the dead or war songs. Lastly, they are not permitted to suck the marrow from the bone of any game that is caught and eaten during the march. There are also numerous matters to be observed in stepping in and out of the canoes on the war trail. Thus, the foot must not on any condition be wetted.

The only things they carry with them, besides their arms and pipes, are their medicine-bags. These they inspect before starting, as carefully as our soldiers do their cartridge-boxes, and place in them all the best and most powerful medicines, and all their relics, magic spells, pieces of paper, etc., in order that the aid of all the guardian spirits may be ensured them.

The same authority gives us a sample of Indian war dances and speeches:

“By the afternoon all were ready, and the grand pipe of peace, they intended to hand to the great father, was properly adorned with red feathers, blue drawings, strings of wampum, etc.

“It occurred to me that although it was after all but a ceremony, the Indians regarded the matter very solemnly and earnestly. According to traditional custom the pipe of peace passed from tent to tent and from mouth to mouth among the warriors. When each had smoked, the procession started and marched with drums beating, fluttering feather-flags and flying-otter, fox, and skunk tails through the village, to theopen space before the old fort of the North West Company. Here they put up a wooden post, and close to it their war flag, after which the dances, speeches, and songs began.

“A circle of brown skinned dancers was formed, with the musicians and singers in the centre. The musicians, a few young fellows, cowered down on the ground, beat a drum, and shook a calabash, and some other instruments, which were very primitive. One had only a board, which he hammered with a big knife, while holding his hollow hand beneath it as a species of sounding board. The principal singers were half a dozen women wrapped up in dark cloaks, who uttered a monotonous and melancholy chant, while keeping their eyes stedfastly fixed on the ground. The singing resembled the sound of a storm growling in the distance. To the music the warriors hopped round in a circle, shaking the otter, fox, and beaver tails attached to their arms, feet, and heads.

“At times, the singing and dancing were interrupted; adorned with flying hair and skins, a warrior walked into the circle, raised his tomahawk, and struck the post a smart blow, as a signal that he was going to describe his hero deeds. Then he began to narrate in a loud voice, and very fluently, some horrible story in which he had played the chief part. He swung the tomahawk, and pointed to the scars and wounds on his naked body in confirmation of his story, giving the post a heavy blow now and then. Many had painted their scars a blood-red colour, and their gesticulations were most striking when they described the glorious moment of scalping. Although surrounded by many kind interpreters, who translated all that was said at once into English or French, I fear it would lead me too far were I to write down all that was said. Here is a specimen, however:—

“Many speeches were begun in a humorous fashion. One little fellow bounded into the circle, and after striking the post, went on, ‘My friends, that I am little you can all see, and I require no witnesses to that. But to believe that I, little as I am, once killed a giant of a Sioux, you will need witnesses.’ And then he plucked two witnesses out of the circle. ‘You and you were present;’ and then he told the story just as it had occurred. Another with a long rattlesnake’s skin round his head, and leaning on his lance, told his story objectively, just as a picture would be described:

“‘Once we Ojibbeways set out against the Sioux. We were one hundred. One of ours, a courageous man, a man of the right stamp, impatient fordistinction, separated from the others, and crept onward into the enemy’s country. The man discovered a party of the foe, two men, two women, and three children. He crept round them like a wolf, he crawled up to them like a snake, he fell upon them like lightning, cut down the two men and scalped them. The screaming women and children he seized by the arm and threw them as prisoners to his friends who had hastened up at his war yell; and this lightning, this snake, this wolf, this man, my friends, that was I. I have spoken.’

North American Weapons.

“In most of the stories told us, however, I could trace very little that was heroic. Many of them, in fact, appeared a description of the way in which a cunning wolf attacked and murdered a lamb.

“One of the fellows, with one eye painted white, the other coal-black, was not ashamed to tell loudly, and with a beaming face, how he once fell upon a poor solitary Sioux girl and scalped her. He gave us the minutest details of this atrocity, and yet at the end of his harangue, he was applauded, or at least behowled, like the other orators. All the Indians stamped and uttered their war yell as a sign of applause, by holding their hands to their mouths trumpet fashion. At the moment the man appeared to me little less ferocious than a tiger, and yet when I formed his acquaintance at a latter date, he talked most reasonably and calmly like an honest farmer’s lad. Such are what are called the contradictions in human nature.

“Very remarkable in all these harangues, was the unconcealed and vain self-laudation each employed about himself. Every speaker considered his deed the best and most useful for the whole nation. Each began by saying that what his predecessors had told them was very fine, but a trifle when compared with what he had to say about himself. It was his intention to astonish them once for all. His totem was the first in the whole land, and the greatest deeds had always been achieved by the spotted weasels (or as the case may be) and so he, the younger weasel, not wishing to be the inferior to his forefathers, had gone forth and performed deeds the description of which would make their hair stand on end,” etc.

Among other tribes of North-American warriors, the braves were armed with small tomahawks, or iron hatchets, which they carried with the powder-horn in the belt on the right side, while the long tobacco pouch of antelope skin hung by the left side. Over their shoulders were leather targets, bows and arrows, and some few had rifles—both weapons were defended from damp in deer-skin cases—and quivers with the inevitable bead-work, and the fringes which every savage seems to love.

Speaking of an army of Indian warriors “shifting camp,” Burton says, in his curious book “The City of the Saints”:—“Their nags were lean and ungroomed; they treat them as cruelly as do the Somal; yet nothing short of whiskey can persuade the Indian warrior to part with a favourite steed. It is his all in all,—his means of livelihood, his profession, his pride. He is an excellent judge of horse-flesh, though ignoring the mule and ass; and if he offers an animal for which he has once refused to trade, it is for the reason that an Oriental takes to market an adult slave—it has become useless. Like the Arab, he considers it dishonourable to sell a horse: he gives it to you, expecting a large present, and if disappointed he goes away grumbling that you have swallowed his property.

“Behind the warriors and braves followed the baggage of the village. The lodge-poles in bundles of four or five had been lashed to pads or packsaddles girthed tight to the ponies’ backs, the other ends being allowed to trail along the ground like the shafts of a truck. The sign easily denotes the course of travel. The wolf-like dogs were also harnessed in the same way; more lupine than canine, they are ready when hungry to attack man or mule; and sharp-nosed and prick-eared, they not a little resemble the Indian pariah dog. Their equipments, however, were of course on a diminutive scale. A little pad girthed round the barrel with a breastplate to keep it in place, enabled them to drag two short light lodge-polestied together at the smaller extremity. One carried only a hawk on its back; yet falconry has never, I believe, been practised by the Indian. Behind the ponies the poles were connected by cross sticks upon which were lashed the lodge-covers, the buffalo robes, and other bulkier articles. Some had strong frames of withes or willow basket-work, two branches being bent into an oval, garnished below with a network of hide-thongs for a seat, covered with a light wicker canopy, and opening like a cage only on one side; a blanket or a buffalo robe defends the inmate from sun and rain. These are the litters for the squaws when weary, the children and the puppies, which are part of the family till used for beasts. It might be supposed to be a rough conveyance; the elasticity of the poles, however, alleviates much of that inconvenience. A very ancient man, wrinkled as a last year’s walnut, and apparently crippled by old wounds, was carried probably by his great-grandsons in a rude sedan. The vehicle was composed of two pliable poles, about ten feet long, separated by three cross-bars twenty inches or so apart. In this way the Indians often bear the wounded back to their villages. Apparently they have never thought of a horse litter, which might be made with equal facility, and would certainly save work.

“Whilst the rich squaws rode, the poor followed their pack-horses on foot, eyeing the more fortunate as the mercer’s wife regards what she terms the carriage lady. The women’s dress not a little resembles their lords’—the unaccustomed eye often hesitates between the sexes. In the fair, however, the waistcoat is absent, the wide-sleeved skirt extends below the knees, and the leggings are of somewhat different cut; all wore coarse shawls, or white, blue, or scarlet cloth-blankets around their bodies. Upon the upper platte, we afterwards saw them dressed in cotton gowns after a semi-civilized fashion, and with bowie knives by their sides. The grandmothers were fearful to look upon; horrid excrescences of nature, teaching proud man a lesson of humility. The middle aged matrons were homely bodies, broad and squat like the African dame after she has becomemère de famille; their hands and feet are notably larger from work than those of the men, and the burdens upon their back caused them to stoop painfully. The young squaws—pity it is that all our household Indian words, papoose for instance, tomahawk, wigwam, and powwow, should have been naturalised out of the Abenaki and other harsh dialects of New England—deserved a more euphonious appellation. The belle savage of the party had large and languishing eyes and teeththat glittered, with sleek long black hair like the ears of a Blenheim spaniel, justifying a natural instinct to stroke or pat it, drawn straight over a low broad quadroon-like brow. Her figure had none of the fragility which distinguishes the higher race, who are apparently too delicate for human nature’s daily food. Her ears and neck were laden with tinsel ornaments, brass wire rings adorned her wrists and fine arms, a bead-work sack encircled her waist, and scarlet leggings fringed and tasselled, ended in equally costly mocassins. When addressed by the driver in some terms to me unintelligible, she replied with a soft clear laugh—the principal charm of the Indian, as of the smooth-throated African woman—at the same time showing him the palm of her right hand as though it had been a looking-glass. The gesture I afterwards learned simply conveys a refusal. The maidens of the tribe, or those under six, were charming little creatures with the wildest and most piquant expression, and the prettiest doll-like features imaginable; the young coquettes already conferred their smiles as if they had been of any earthly value. The boys had black beady eyes like snakes, and the wide mouths of young caymans. Their only dress when they were not in birthday suit was the Indian laguti. None of the braves carried scalps, finger-bones, or notches on the lance, which serve like certain marks on saw-handled pistols further east, nor had any man lost a limb. They followed us for many a mile, peering into the hinder part of our travelling wigwam, and ejaculating “How, How,” the normal salutation.”

Here is an instance at once of Indian warrior heroism on the one side and fiendish ferocity on the other that occurred at the late engagement between a small war party of the Chippewas and a greatly superior party of Sioux, near Cedar Island Lake. The Chippewas, who wereen routefor a scalping foray upon the Sioux villages on the Minnesota, here fell into an ambuscade, and the first notice of danger which saluted their ears was a discharge of fire-arms from a thicket. Four of their number fell dead in their tracks. Another, named the War Cloud, a leading brave, had a leg broken by a bullet. His comrades were loth to leave him, and, whilst their assailants were reloading their guns, attempted to carry him along with them to where they could gain the shelter of a thicket a short distance to the rear. But he commanded them to leave him, telling them that he would show his enemies how a Chippewa could die.

Chippewa.

At his request they seated him on a log, with his back leaning againsta tree. He then commenced painting his face and singing his death-song. As his enemies approached he only sang a louder and a livelier strain; and when several had gathered around him, flourishing their scalping-knives, and screeching forth their demoniac yells of exultation, not a look or gesture manifested that he was even aware of their presence. At lengthy they seized him and tore his scalp from his head. Still seated with his back against a large tree, they commenced shooting their arrows into the trunk around his head, grazing his ears, neck, etc., until they literally pinned him fast, without having once touched a vital part. Yet our hero remained the same imperturable stoic, continuing to chant his defiant strain, and although one of the number flourished his reeking scalp before his eyes, still not a single expression of his countenance could be observed to change. At last one of the number approached him with a tomahawk,which, after a few unheeded flourishes, he buried in the captive’s skull, who sank in death, with the war song still upon his lips. He had, indeed, succeeded well in teaching his enemies “how a Chippewa could die.”

The reader has already made the acquaintance of that renowned Mandan chief Mahtotopa; here is another episode in that hero’s history:

A party of 150 Scheyenne warriors had invaded the territory of the Mandans; Mahtotopa, the young but already famous warrior of whom we have spoken, went in pursuit of them at the head of fifty of the bravest of his tribe. At the end of two days he came up with them. The Mandans, inferior in number, hesitated to engage in combat, when by a sudden impulse, Mahtotopa planted his lance, ornamented with a piece of red stuff, in the ground in token of defiance. The Scheyennes who were approaching to attack the party were arrested by the sight of this courageous act, and their chief advancing alone to meet the young Mandan warrior enquired who he was who defied alone the enemy?

“It is Mahtotopa, second chief in command of the brave and valiant Mandans.”

“I have often heard him spoken of,” replied the Scheyenne; “he is a great warrior. Would he dare to advance and fight against me alone while our warriors look on?”

“Is it a chief who speaks to Mahtotopa?”

“See the scalp which hangs from the bit of my horse,” answered the Scheyenne; “see my lance ornamented with the fur of the ermine and the feather of the eagle of war.”

“You have spoken enough,” said the Mandan.

The Scheyenne chief set off at full gallop and planted his lance by the side of that of Mahtotopa. The warriors of the two tribes drew near and formed a great circle. The two champions advanced into the middle of these lists formed by human warriors. They were on horseback, decorated with feathers and wearing their finest garments. They each fired a shot without effect; Mahtotopa then showed his adversary his powder-flask, which had been pierced by a ball, and threw it on the ground as well as his gun, which had thus become useless. The Scheyenne chief in order to fight with equal arms did the same, and for some moments they galloped one round the other discharging arrows with incredible rapidity. The horse of the Mandan rolled on the ground pierced by an arrow, and when Mahtotopa arose to continue the fight his adversary sprang from his horse and once more the combat became equal. Soon thewarriors were exhausted. Then the Scheyenne drew his knife and brandished it in the air. “Yes,” answered Mahtotopa, who understood this unspoken invitation. The two warriors disencumbered themselves of their quivers and shields; but the Mandan had not his knife; he had forgotten it in his cabin; this did not stop him; he parried the blows of his adversary with the wood of his bow, which he wielded like a club. He soon succeeded in forcing his enemy to relax his hold on his weapon; the knife fell, the combatants threw themselves on each other and tried to get possession of the weapon which lay at their feet; it was taken and wrenched back again several times by both adversaries, and each time it was dyed with the blood of one or the other. At length Mahtotopa seized it a last time and plunged it to the hilt in the heart of the Scheyenne chief, then drew it out, took off his adversary’s scalp and showed the trophy of his victory to the spectators. Such a scalp as this would be more precious in the eyes of Mahtotopa than any dozen of such bloody trophies he might previously have possessed. Few Indian warriors of the “old school” but who could point in the same fashion to one poor scrap of skin and hair with special exultation, while with pomp and pride they describe to the curious listener the peculiar circumstances under which the trophy was obtained. Take the following little anecdote related by a somewhat celebrated Ojibbeway “brave” as an example:

“This scalp I nailed separately because I took it under curious circumstances and like to recall it to my memory. I went on the war trail just ten years ago against the Sioux band of the chief Wabasha. There were eighty of us Ojibbeways, and we went down the Chippeway River in canoes. When we found ourselves close to the enemy we turned into an arm of water which we thought was the main channel; but it was only a bayou which lost itself in swamp and rushes, and on attempting to push through all our canoes stuck in the mud. The Sioux fleet was coming up to cut us off in our hole, and we left our canoes and went on foot. The Sioux fired on us from the water and we replied from land; but the distance was too great, and no one was wounded. One of the boldest and bravest of the Sioux, however, pushed on far in advance in order to cut us off. He came too near the bank and was shot by one of our men and he fell back in his canoe which began drifting down the stream. His body hung over the side of the boat into the water. I saw this, and feeling desirous to have his scalp I leaped into the water and swam after the canoe. There was plenty of risk, for the other Sioux were now paddlingup; besides, it was not at all certain the man was really dead. I did not care though, but swam on, seized the canoe and the man, and had his scalp with a couple of cuts. Ha, ha! I waved it once to the Sioux, pushed the canoe with the half-dead quivering fellow towards them, and soon joined my party again. We all escaped, and only our enemies had cause to lament. He was their best warrior, and so I nailed his scalp, the only one taken that time, here on my hatchet which I carry about with me.”

The following tradition of a war exploit of the same tribe, recorded by the Rev. P. Jones, will show the confidence they place in dreams:

“A canoe manned with warriors was once pursued by a number of others, all filled with their enemies. They endeavoured to escape, paddling with all their might, but the enemy still gained upon them; then the old warriors began to call for the assistance of those things they had dreamt of during their fast-days. One man’s munedoo was a sturgeon, which being invoked, their speed was soon equal to that of this fish, leaving the enemy far behind; but the sturgeon being short-winded was soon tired, and the enemy again advanced rapidly upon them. The rest of the warriors, with the exception of one young man who, from his mean and ragged appearance, was considered a fool, called the assistance of their gods, which for a time enabled them to keep in advance. At length, having exhausted the strength of all their munedoos, they were beginning to give themselves up for lost, the other canoes being now so near as to turn to head them, when just at this critical moment the foolish young man thought of his medicine-bag, which in their flight he had taken off from his side and laid in the canoe. He called out, ‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ The warriors told him to be quiet; what did he want with his medicine-bag at this perilous time? He still shouted, ‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ They again told him to paddle and not trouble them about his medicine-bag. As he persisted in his cry, ‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ one of the warriors seeing it by his side took it up and threw it to him. He, putting his hand into it, pulled out an old pouch made of the skin of asaw-bill, a species of duck. This he held by the neck to the water. Immediately the canoe began to glide swiftly at the usual speed of asaw-bill; and after being propelled for a short time by this wonderful power, they looked back and found they were far beyond the reach of the enemy, who had now given up the chase. Surely this Indian deserved apatentfor his wonderful propelling power, which would have supersededthe use of the jarring and thumping steam-boats, now the wonder and admiration of the American Indian. The young man then took up his pouch, wrung the water out of it, and replaced it in his bag; telling the Indians that he had not worn his medicine-bag about his person for nothing,—that in his fast he had dreamt of this fowl, and was told that in all dangers it would deliver him, and that he should possess the speed and untiring nature of thesaw-billduck. The old warriors were astonished at the power of the young man whom they had looked upon as almost an idiot, and were taught by him a lesson, never to form a mean opinion of any persons from their outward appearance.”

The canoe of the Indian has been several times mentioned in these pages, and as it plays a very important part in the career of the savage in question, in times of peace as well as of war, it may not be amiss here to furnish some particulars as to its construction. Of its antiquity there is very little doubt; for being of a simple construction, and the materials for it at hand, we suppose that it would occur to the simplest savage, that if it was necessary to go some distance on the water, he must have something to float upon, and that wood or the lightest part of it—bark—was just the thing that was required. So that if it can exactly be computed how long it is since the North American Indian first took up his abode in those vast regions which he so long possessed undisturbed, and deduct a few years for him to look about his new home, we shall have the exact age of the canoe; at any rate, the discoverers of America found the canoe along with the Indians, and the natives called themcanoas, which were hollowed out of trees. The way that the tribes belonging to the Algongian stock, who are essentially fishermen and sailors, build their canoes is as follows:—

The birch is the tree selected for the purpose, and the bark is that part of it of which the skeleton of the canoe is built. The Indians select the largest and smoothest trees; so that they can obtain large pieces of bark and prevent too much sewing. The inner side of the bark is scraped with knives, and it is then given over to the women to sew. The men then get ready the framework of the boat, which is of cedar. “They have usually a sort of model, or a frame of the figure and size of a canoe, round which the branches or ribs are bent. In the centre the arches are large, growing smaller towards either end. These ribs are peeled wonderfully thin, because lightness and easy carriage are the chief qualities of a canoe. Between the upper end of the ribs orrarangues, as they arecalled, a thin cross-piece is fastened, to keep them in a horizontal position. This is for the purpose of giving strength to the sides.” These boats have no keel, but therarangues, andlanes, or cross-pieces, are tied to a piece of wood at the top.

The Indians use neither nails nor screws in the manufacture of the canoe; everything about it is either tied or sewn together. This, however, does not seem to deteriorate its strength or utility. When the framework is completed, the bark covering, previously alluded to, and which is made by the women, is spread over it, and the edge turned down over the “maître” and firmly bound to it. The interior of the canoe is then lined with thin boards, laid across the ribs, which they callles lisses. These protect the bottom from the feet of the passenger, and injury from the sails. They are remarkably thin and light, and not much stouter than the sides of a cigar-box. Of course the canoes are not suited for the nailed boots of a European or the transport of ironshod boxes, but only for the soft mocassined feet of the Indians, and the still softer bundles of fur.

“All the wood-work in the canoe is derived from the cédre blanche, for this wood is very elastic, does not split, has but light specific gravity, and is easily cut with a knife. The material for the cords and strings is also obtained from the same tree, though they also use the bark taken from the root of theepinetee blanche, a species of spruce. All this is prepared by the women, who are always busy in twisting ‘watals,’ owing to the large quantities used. They can make either twine or stout cords out of it, and for their fishing nets, the ropes often reach a length of fifty yards. These cords last a long time, and resist the influence of water, and they can be laid up for two years without deteriorating. If damped, they become as supple as leather.

“The canoe is sharp, front and back, and the ends stand up a little: these ends are often gaily decorated in the large canoes. A small piece of wood is inserted in either end to give it increased strength. This, too, is often carved and painted into the shape of a queer-looking manikin.

“After the canoe is completed, the material is left to dry. For this purpose pieces of wood are inserted in every part to keep it well extended, and it is then hung up in the air. Botching all the little holes, seams, and stitches is the final process. For this purpose the resin of the pine or fir is used, and is laid on in thick patches wherever a hole would allow the water entrance. The weak parts of the bark or the holes of branches are also covered with this resin.”

In the canoe building, as, indeed, in all labours, a great part of the work falls to the women. They do all the sewing and tying, and often are compelled to take part in the hammering and botching. When the little craft is afloat, the squaws assist in the paddling; and very often are more skilful in this respect than the men. Usually, however, when a family is moving about, the man and wife paddle side by side. In the primitive mode of sailing, one sits at the stern and one at the bow, both paddling with short broad paddles. The one in the bow looks out for shallow rocks and rapids, which might prove dangerous; he then signals to the one in the stern, to whose care the propelling of the boat is principally entrusted, who directs the boat accordingly. The lightness of the canoe, and the extraordinary skill of the Indians in guiding it, enables it to skim over the surface of the water with marvellous rapidity. The most surprising part of the business is the great load these canoes can carry. Mr. Kohl makes mention of one he saw, which contained a family of twenty persons, with their goods and chattels! They had come some hundred and fifty miles in their little boat,—over cataracts and rapids; besides they had a quantity of deer and bear skins with them, and several live dogs. The whole weight must have exceeded a ton!

Throughout the whole of Polynesia, as in savage North America, the native, wherever you find him, regards war as the first business of his life, as the only means of earning fame and riches. Without doubt this yearning for perpetual strife has now somewhat subsided, but within the memory of the still young, the said yearning was at its highest. Samoa furnishes an apt instance; and even within the last few years, when Mr. Turner was there located as missionary, he found that the murder of a chief, a disputed title, or a desire on the part of one, two, or more of the districts to be considered stronger and of more importance than the rest, were frequent causes of war. Hostilities were often prevented by such acts as giving up the culprit, paying a heavy fine, or bowing down in abject submission, not with ropes round their necks, but carrying firewood and small stones used in baking a pig, or perhaps a few bamboos. The firewood, stones, and leaves were equivalent to their saying, “Here we are your pigs to be cooked if you please; and here are the materials with which to do it.” Taking bamboos in the hand was as if they said, “We have come, and here are the knives to cut us up.” A piece of split bamboo was of old the usual knife in Samoa.

If, however, the chiefs of the district were determined to resist, they prepared accordingly. The boundary which separated one district from another was the usual battle field, hence the villages next to that spot on either side were occupied at once by the troops. The women and children, the sick and the aged, were cleared off to some fortified place in the bush, or removed to some other district which was either neutral or could be depended upon as an ally. Moveable property was either buried or taken off with the women and children. The wives of the chiefs and principal men, generally followed their husbands wherever they might be encamped, to be ready to nurse them if sick or wounded. A heroine would even follow close upon the heels of her husband in actual conflict, carrying his club or some other part of his armour; it was common for chiefs to take with them a present of fine mats when they went to another district to solicit help in war, but there was no standing army or regularly paid soldiers anywhere.

Polynesian Weapons.

When the chiefs decided on war, every man and boy under their jurisdiction old enough to handle a club, had to take his place as a soldier, or risk the loss of his lands and property and banishment from the place. In each district there was a certain village or cluster of villages known as the advance troops. It was their province to take the lead and in battle their loss was double the number of that of any other village. Still theyboasted of their right to lead, and would on no account give it up to others, and talked in the current strain of other parts of the world, about the glory of dying in battle. In a time of peace the people of these villages had special marks of respect shown to them, such as the largest share of food at public feasts, flattery, etc. While war was going on the chiefs and heads of families united in some central spot, and whatever they decided on, either for attack or defence, the young men endeavoured implicitly to carry out. Their weapons were of old, clubs, spears, and slings; subsequently, as iron was introduced, they got hatchets, and with these they made their most deadly weapon, viz., a sharp tomahawk with a handle the length of a walking stick. After that again, they had the civilized additions of swords, pistols, guns, and bayonets. Around the village where the war party assembled, they threw a rough stockade, formed by any kind of sticks or trees cut into eight feet lengths and put close to each other upright, with their ends buried two feet in the ground. The hostile parties might be each fortified in this way, not more than a mile from each other, and now and then venture out to fight in the intervening space, or to take each other by surprise at weak or unguarded points. In their war canoes they had some distinguishing badge of their district hoisted on a pole, a bird it might be, or a dog, or a bunch of leaves. And for the bush-ranging land forces, they had certain marks on the body by which they knew their own party, and which served as a temporary watchword. One day the distinguishing mark might be blackened cheeks, the next two strokes on the breast, the next a white shell suspended from a stripe of white cloth round the neck, and so on; before any formal fight they had a day of feasting, reviewing, and merriment. In action they never stood in orderly ranks to shoot at each other. According to their notions that would be the height of folly. Their favourite tactics were rather of the surprise and bush skirmishing order. Prisoners, if men, were generally killed; if women, distributed among the conquerors. In the battle which was fought in 1830, to avenge the death of Tamafainga, a fire was kindled, and prisoners to the extent of four hundred, some say, were burned, but probably it did not reach the half of that number.

Their heroes were the swift of foot, like Achilles or Asahel; men who could dash forward towards a crowd, hurl a spear with deadly precision; and stand for a while, tilting off with his club other spears as they approached him within an inch of running him through. They wereambitious also to signalize themselves by the number of heads they could lay before the chief. No hero at the Grecian games rejoiced more over his chaplet than did the Samoan glory in the distinction of having cut off a man’s head. As he went along with it through the villages on the way to the place where the chiefs were assembled, waiting the hourly news of the battle, he danced and capered and shouted, calling out every now and then the name of the village, and adding, “I am so and so, I have got the head of such a one.” When he reached the spot where the chiefs were met, he went through a few more evolutions and then laid down the head before them. This, together with the formal thanks of the chiefs before the multitude for his bravery and successful fighting, was the very height of a young man’s ambition. He made some giddy frolicsome turns on his heels and was off again to try and get another victim. These heads were piled up in a heap in the mapae or public assembly. The head of the most important chief was put on the top, and as the tale of the battle was told they would say, “There were so many heads surmounted by the head of so-and-so,” giving the number and the name. After remaining for some hours piled up they were either claimed by their relatives or buried on the spot.

A rare illustration of this ambition to get heads occurred about ten years ago. In an unexpected attack upon a village one morning, a young man fell stunned by a blow. Presently he recovered consciousness, felt the weight of some one sitting on his shoulders and covering his neck, and the first sounds he heard was a dispute going on between two as to which of them had the right to cut off his head. He made a desperate effort, jostled the fellow off his back, sprang to his feet, and with his head all safe in his own possession, soon settled the matter by leaving them both far behind him.

The headless bodies of the slain scattered about in the bush after a battle, if known, were buried, if unknown left to the dogs. In some cases the whole body was pulled along in savage triumph, and laid before the chiefs. One day when Mr. Turner was in a war-fort, endeavouring to mediate for peace, a dead body of one of the enemy was dragged in, preceded by a fellow making all sorts of fiendish gestures, with one of the legs in his teeth, cut off by the knee.

If the war became general, and involved several districts, they formed themselves into a threefold division of highway, bush, and sea fighters. The fleet might consist of three hundred men in thirty or forty canoes.The bushrangers and the fleet were principally dreaded, as there was no calculating where they were or when they might pounce unawares upon some unguarded settlement. The fleet met apart from the land forces and concocted their own schemes. They would have it all arranged, for instance, and a dead secret, to be off after dark to attack a particular village belonging to the enemy. At midnight they land at an uninhabited place some miles from the settlement they intend to attack. They take a circuitous course in the bush, surround the village from behind, having previously arranged to let the canoes slip on quietly and take up their position in the water in front of the village. By break of day they rush into the houses of the unsuspecting people before they have well waked up, chop off as many heads as they can, rush with them to their canoes, and decamp before the young men of the place have had time to muster or arm. Often they are scared by the people who during the war keep a watch night and day at all the principal openings in the reef; but now and then the plot succeeds and there is fearful slaughter. In one of these early morning attacks from the fleet the heads of thirteen were carried off. One of them was that of a poor old man who was on his knees at his morning devotions, when off went his head at a blow. In another house that same morning there was a noble instance of maternal heroism in a woman who allowed herself to be hacked from head to foot bending over her son to save his life. It is considered cowardly to kill a woman, or they would have dispatched her at once. It was the head of her little boy they wanted, but they did not get it. The poor woman was in a dreadful state, but, to the surprise of all, recovered.

To the king of Samoa was reserved the power of sparing life. When led to the king’s presence the captive warriors usually prostrated themselves before him, and exclaimed:make paha e ora paha-i runa te ars? i raro te aro. “To die, perhaps to live, perhaps upward the face!” If the king did not speak, or said “The face down,” it was sentence of death, and some one in attendance either despatched the poor captive in his presence or led him away to be slaughtered. But if the king said, “Upward the face,” they were spared only to be slaves or to be sacrificed when the priests should require human victims.

When the king, or any chief of high rank, was known to be humane, or any of the vanquished had formerly been on terms of friendship with him, avoiding carefully the warriors, an individual risking his life on the conqueror’s clemency would lie in wait for him in his walks, and prostratinghimself in the path, supplicate his compassion, or rush into his house and throw himself on the ground before him. Though anyone might have killed him while on his way thither, none dared touch him within the king’s enclosure without his orders. When the king did not speak, or directed the fugitive to be carried from his presence, which was very unusual, he was taken out and slain. Generally the prince spoke to the individual who had thus thrown himself into his power; and if he did but speak, or only recognise him, he was secure. He might either join the retinue of the sovereign, or return to his own house. No one would molest him, as he was undermarushade or the screening protection of the king. These individuals, influenced by feelings of gratitude, generally attached themselves to the person or interest of the prince by whom they had been saved, and frequently proved through subsequent life the most faithful attendants on his person and steady adherents to his cause.

The gentleman just mentioned furnishes us with an account of the massacre of the teachers which some few years since took place at the Isle of Pines. There were three of them. They were blamed for causing sickness. Mantungu, the chief, ordered them away, and as Captain Ebrill, of the brig “Star,” was there at the time and offered to take them to Samoa, they left in his vessel. Captain Ebrill first went to Sydney, came back, was on his way to Samoa with the teachers, but touched at the Isle of Pines to procure some more sandal-wood. He anchored at Uao, some little distance from the residence of the chief. The natives went off to the vessel. “Where are Mantungu and his sons?” said a person on board. “Dead,” replied the natives in a joke. “Dead, dead; that is good,” said the same person; “let such chiefs be dead, and let the common folk live, and help us cut sandal-wood.” For some reason which we cannot ascertain, Captain Ebrill and his crew were angry with the old chief, and as a further proof of it, when he sent a present of food to the teachers, who he heard were in the vessel, it was not allowed to be received on board. Those who took it had pieces of wood thrown at them and two musket shots fired at them. None were killed, but one man was wounded in the knee. “What can this mean,” said Mantungu, “wishing me and my sons dead in our own land? and why commit such outrages upon my people who went with a present?” Whether he had any intentions previously to take the vessel we know not; but any one who knows the old despot can imagine how such treatment would make his savage heart flame with revenge. Next morning thirty select men were off, determinedto kill all on board. They took some sandal-wood with them to sell; and as a further trick did not arm themselves with clubs or axes, but with the adzes which they use in dressing off the bark and sap from the wood. They reached the vessel. The sandal-wood pleased all on board, was immediately bought, and the natives were allowed to go up on deck to grind their adzes on pretence that they were going off for more wood. One of the crew was turning the handle of the grindstone, a native grinding an adze, and the captain close by. Seizing a favourable moment the native swung his adze and hit the captain in the face between the eyes,—this was instant death to Captain Ebrill, and the signal for attack all over the vessel. In a few minutes seventeen of the crew were killed—viz., ten white men, including the captain, two Marquesans, two Mangarans, one Aitutakian, one New Zealander, and a Karotongan teacher. The cook fought desperately for awhile with an axe and killed one man, but was at length overpowered and fell. This occurred on the afternoon of the 1st of November, 1842. A young man named Henry, two Samoan teachers, and a native of the New Hebrides made their escape below. Henry loaded muskets and fired up the companion, but without effect. It only exasperated the natives on deck, who threw down upon them billets of sandal-wood. The teachers then collected their property, six red shirts, eight axes, etc., called up and offered all for their lives, but there was no mercy. Night came on. The natives divided; a party went on shore in the boat, and the rest remained on deck to guard those below. In the morning the natives called down to Henry and the Samoans to come up, take the vessel further in, and then go on shore, as Mantungu had come and declared they were to live. The poor fellows felt they were entirely in the hands of the natives, came up, ran close in shore, and again dropped anchor. They were then taken to the shore. A son of Mantungu, with a tomahawk in his right hand, met Henry as he stepped out of the boat, held out his left hand with a feigned grin of friendship to shake hands; but the moment he got hold of Henry’s right hand, the villain up with his axe and laid the poor fellow dead at his feet. Others were up and at the remaining three. Lengolo, the New Hebrides native, and the Samoan Taniela, were killed at once. Mantangu and a party of natives were sitting under the shade of the cocoa-nuts looking on. Lasalo, the other Samoan teacher, escaped streaming with blood, threw himself at the feet of the old chief and begged for life. Mantungu was silent for a minute or two, but soon gave the wink to a Lifu man. Lasalowas now dragged away to be killed, but he sprang from the fellow as he lifted his axe and darted off to sea. The savages were at his heels, he was hit repeatedly, but escaped to the deep water, struck out and swam off to a little island. Four men jumped into a canoe and after him; he climbed a pine tree and talked for awhile with them; they assured him Mantungu had determined to spare him, and at last he came down. It was treachery again. They sprang upon him like tigers; but again he extricated himself, and rushed to the canoe; there, however, at length the poor fellow was overpowered and fell.

After the massacre the bodies were divided. There were people there from Caledonia, Mare, and Lifu, and each had a share. Then followed the plundering of the vessel; deck, cabins, and forecastle were stripped of everything. They cut down the masts to get at the sails and rigging, and then set fire to her without opening the hold. As the fire reached the powder there was a terrific explosion, but no lives lost. She burned to the water’s edge and then sank.

Another curious story is related of these people in connexion with their warlike disposition. On one occasion they captured a European ship called the “Sisters,” and having massacred the crew, proceeded to rifle the vessel of everything portable. Some kegs of gunpowder came under this category, and being unacquainted with its nature, after conveying it ashore, they amused themselves by sprinkling pinches of it in the fire to “make sparks.” The result may be easily imagined; the whole bulk of powder became ignited and scattered the amazed savages right and left; many were maimed and a few killed, and among the latter was a chief of some renown. The calamity was of course attributed to the evil spirits of the murdered crew of the “Sisters,” and the Samoans vowed to take dire revenge on the first batch of white men who fell into their clutches. They had not long to wait. A large boat with seven men in her put in not long after near the same place. This was a party of runaway convicts from Norfolk Island. Five of them were killed and the boat broken to pieces. The other two had gone off to forage in the bush, and happily met with old Jeni (the chief) and his sons, who were travelling there that very day about some war affairs. The murderers of the five who were in search of the other two found them with Jeni and his sons and proposed to kill them. Jeni refused and took them home with him. They lived for two months under the wing of the old chief and our teachers, and were kindly treated. But the fellows were out-and-out Norfolk Islanders. One nightthey got up and robbed old Jeni of four muskets, ten hatchets, four felling axes, and a saw. They went to the teachers’ house, took four shirts, two knives, and an axe, and off they set in the teachers’ canoe to join some white men reported to be at Lifu. At daylight the things were missed and the place in an uproar. Suspicion fell on the teachers. Their canoe is away—they must have helped the fellow to lift it into the water. “No,” said Tataio, “how can that be? We are robbed too, and our canoe gone to boot. But I’ll tell you they cannot be far away, let us be off after them: I go for one, who will join me?” A party was made up in a twinkling, and off they went, hard drive at their paddles, out to sea in the direction of Lifu. Soon they sighted something rising now and then on the top of the waves. Two men in it—just the fellows. A little further and they were in sight of each other. The thieves loaded their muskets and fired two or three shots. No one was hurt. Their pursuers paddle steadily on and are determined to be at them. Then they threw the stolen property into the sea towards them, but who could pick up sinking axes? All were lost. The two scoundrels knew what they deserved, thought it was a choice of deaths, and jumped into the sea to drown themselves. “Poor fellows,” said Tataio, “they think we are going to kill them. Let us save them if we can.” He got his hand into the mouth of one of them when he had but almost sunk, and pulled him up. The other was also secured and laid flat in the bottom of the canoe half dead. The sea was running high, the outrigger broke, and all had to jump out except the two vagabonds who were lying senseless in the bottom of the canoe. But it was hard work to swim and drag the disabled canoe through a heavy sea. “What are we doing?” said the natives to each other. “By and by we shall be all dead. Why should we be drowned in trying to save these fellows? It is their own doing. Let us tilt the canoe over, pitch them out and save ourselves.” “No,” said Tataio; “see the current is drifting us fast to that little island. Let us try it a little longer.”

They reached the little island, landed, and rested, and scolded the two scoundrels as they recovered and were able to listen to what was going on. Some natives of the island, when they heard the tale, would have them killed, but the votes with Tataio carried it for their lives. “Well then spare their lives, but we must punish them.” They stripped them naked, besmeared them from head to foot with a mixture of mud and ashes, and then said, “Now you must go about so.” Native like,however, they repented next day, washed the fellows clean, and gave them back their clothes. After resting a day or two the party returned to Mare.

The Mare people were delighted to see the party return, but when they heard the story, and knew that all the property was thrown away, they could hardly keep their clubs off the vagabonds. But old Jeni united with the teachers and forbade. “What good,” said he, “will it do to kill them? It won’t bring back my property.” Here again they were allowed to live, and were fed too by the people, as if nothing had happened, until they had an opportunity of leaving in a vessel which touched at the place some time after.

Justice demands some few words of explanation concerning the reputed “wanton massacres” by the natives of these islands. Without doubt they set but little value on human life, and are treacherous in the extreme; naturally, they are suspicious and likely to regard the actions of men so totally different in manner and habit from themselves, as are white men, with constant uneasiness; added to this, it is an ascertained fact that in numerous instances European and American ships trading to this part of the world have not scrupled to cheat and ill-use the ignorant savages with whom they had to deal, and though the aggressors have succeeded in sailing off with impunity, such behaviour could not fail to plant seeds of ill-feeling, the crop of which would certainly be garnered for the next batch of “white cheats” who touched their shores.

The following little story of this South Sea traffic, related by a traveller named Coulter (who relates it rather as a joke than a disgrace) will illustrate what the above lines are meant to convey:

“There was some firewood collected on the beach which had yet to be got off, as we were in actual want of it. The natives were offered some trifling presents to bring it to the schooner, but acted so slowly that the captain got out of patience and dispatched his boat with four men and the interpreter to effect the desired object; he gave them every caution not to mix with the natives, but work quick and get off the wood at once, and if there should be any attempt to attack them on the part of the natives, to run to the water’s edge and the guns of the schooner would cover them.

“I may here remark, that it is a usual plan with almost all the islanders in the Pacific, who are treacherously disposed, to obtain first as much as they can by fair trade, and if the suspicions of the captain, or any vesseltrading with them, should be lulled so as to throw him off his guard by this apparent honesty and safety, to take advantage of such a state of things and either cut off a boat’s crew or attempt to board and plunder the ship, if possible.

“Trainer, the mate, who knew these people well, had no confidence in any of them; though he seemed to take matters easy enough he was well prepared for any surprise that might be attempted, and he was doubly particular in his means of defence, as the interpreter informed him that the natives were laying plans to board the schooner, thinking as she was small the capture of her would be an easy matter. Two boat’s load of the firewood was gone off and the boats sent for the third and last. The wood was about forty yards from the beach and had to be carried down by the men to the boat. A number of canoes were rapidly shoved into the water and filled with men. This was the critical time, and we all kept ready and an anxious watch on the boat.

“In a few minutes the four men on shore were observed to run with all their might down to the water’s edge followed by a crowd of armed natives. They had scarcely time to get into the boat and push her off from the beach when the natives were close on, throwing a number of spears at them, one of which took effect on one of the men. However, the remaining three got her off into deep water. The interpreter, who could not get into the boat, stole into the water at another point unperceived by the natives and swam off. They were all taken quickly on board; but there was no time to hoist the boat up as the canoes filled with armed men were fast approaching.

“The seaman who was wounded in the boat died in a few minutes after reaching the deck—the spear had passed right through his chest. The men, who were all enraged at the loss of an excellent man and an esteemed messmate, were burning for revenge, and were waiting with impatient eagerness for the orders to slap at them. Trainer was at the gangway and his eye on the advancing fleet of canoes; I was with him. We were well prepared. The short carronades were the most useful articles on the present occasion and were loaded with grape. The crew were also armed. ‘Well,’ said the captain, ‘I have been here several times, and have always treated them fairly and kindly, and now, without cause, they have killed one of our best men and want to take my vessel and murder us all. They shall catch it.’ Thus spoke a really humane man, but he was irritated beyond all patience by the treachery of the natives and loss of his man.‘Now, my lads, are you ready?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ ‘Remember, if we let these savages board us not a man will be alive in ten minutes.’ ‘Never fear, sir; we’ll pay them.’ On the canoes came; they separated into two divisions, one advancing to the bows the other towards the stern.

“Trainer keenly eyed them, whilst he made frequent exclamations, such as ‘Well, you want the schooner, I suppose,’ etc. The natives in the canoes were yelling and screaming loudly enough and brandishing their spears with as threatening an aspect as they could make, seemingly with the intention of cowing us. They approached within twenty yards, when the captain ordered the guns at the bow to be pointed fair for the batch of canoes ahead, while he arranged for those approaching the stern. ‘Are you ready, men, fore and aft?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ ‘Let go, then.’ The two carronades discharged their fatal showers of grape, and before the smoke had rightly cleared away they were loaded and again fired amongst the savages. ‘Load again, my lads,’ said the captain. There was scarcely any wind, and the smoke which hung low on the water was a few minutes in clearing away. The screaming of the wounded people was appalling; some canoes were sunk or capsized and numbers of natives were swimming towards the shore. Nevertheless, there were many of them yet that kept their ground and had the reckless daring to make another bold push for the vessel’s side. ‘Fire,’ said the captain again, and another volley of grape flew amongst them. This discharge had not the great effect of the former ones, as the canoes were closer and the contents of the guns had not distance enough to scatter. The savages seemed to comprehend this, and in another moment were clinging to the schooner’s sides endeavouring to board; but the rapid use of muskets and pistols ultimately drove them away in an indescribable confusion, with, I am sorry to say, considerable loss.

“The whole affair was caused by the natural treachery of the natives. The part we played was unavoidable; in fact, our lives were at stake, and there was only one unnecessary shot fired after the final retreat of the natives. The men who had charge of the bow gun loaded it again unperceived by the captain, and before they could be stopped fired it after the savages who were making for the shore. This parting shot was, as they said, to revenge Tom Staples, the seaman who was speared. There was no one on board the schooner hurt during the affray but the carpenter, whose arm was broken by the blow of a heavy club wielded by a huge savage who was endeavouring to board.”

To repeat Mr. Coulter’s words, “The whole affair was caused by the natural treachery of the natives.” As the gentleman was on the spot he of course should know all about it. Still one cannot help suspecting that the captain’s “impatience” had not a little to do with the carnage which ensued. It would be interesting to be informed what were the orders of the impatient captain to the boat’s crew sent ashore to hurry the unwilling natives. Why were they unwilling? Was the firewood piled on the beach already paid for, or did that “really humane man,” the American captain, expect the oft-deluded barbarians to trust to his honour for payment when the cargo was fairly aboard. The first boatful was allowed to depart—the second—then came the third and last. “Where’s the price?” “Price be hanged, you precious lot of niggers! guess the only price you’ll get for this yer freight will be pitched at you from our big guns. Hands off the boat there, and let us shove her off!” This of course is a fancy picture; but there is a possibility that it is not very wide of the mark. If so, the niggers who, after they had seen their comrades mangled and torn by the murderous grape “made another bold push for the ship’s side,” showed themselves brave men, and compels us to reflect with abhorence on the firers of that “one unnecessary shot.”

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