During the whole of the day nothing seemed to justify the fears that had tormented me, and everything went on in its regular course.  The men pursued their occupations quietly and in silence, and I thought the temporary fit of disaffection was passed over.  Alas!  I remembered not that the passions of men, like deep waters, are most to be suspected when they seem to glide along most smoothly.  Night came on, and I retired to rest more composed than on the preceding evening.  I endeavoured to convince myself that the noises I had heard were but the fancies of a disturbed imagination, and I slept soundly.  Ill-timed security!  About midnight I was awakened by a scuffling in the vessel.  I hastened to the spot; the captain and one of his officers were fighting against a multitude of the ship’s crew.  In a moment after I saw the officer fall.  Two fellows advanced to me, and, clapping pistols to my breast, threatened instant death, if I stirred or spoke.  I gazed on the bloody spectacle; the bodies, which lay around, swimming in gore, testified that the mutineers could not have accomplished their aim with impunity.  I was horror-struck; a swimming sensation came over my eyes, my limbs failed me, and I fell senseless.

When I recovered, I found myself lying on a bed.  Everything was still.  I listened in vain for a sound; I lay still a considerable time; at last, I arose and walked about the ship, but could see no one.  I searched every part of the vessel; I visited the place of slaughter, which I had, at first, carefully avoided; I counted nine dead bodies, and the coagulated blood formed a loathsome mass around them; I shuddered to think I was desolate—­the companion of death.  “Good God!” said I, “and they have left me here alone!” The word sounded like a knell to me.  It now occurred to me, it was necessary the bodies should be thrown overboard.  I took up one of them, dragged it to the side, and plunged it into the waves; but the dash of the heavy body into the sea, reminded me more forcibly of my loneliness.  The sea was so calm, I could scarcely hear it ripple by the vessel’s side.  One by one I committed the bodies to their watery grave.  At last my horrible task was finished.  My next work was to look for the ship’s boats, but they were gone, as I expected.  I could not bear to remain in the ship; it seemed a vast tomb for me.  I resolved to make some sort of raft, and depart in it.  This occupied two or three days; at length it was completed, and I succeeded in setting it afloat.

I lowered into it all the provision I could find in the ship, which was but little, the sailors having, as I imagined, carried off the remainder.  All was ready, and I prepared to depart.  I trembled at the thought of the dangers I was about to encounter.  I was going to commit myself to the ocean, separated from it only by a few boards, which a wave might scatter over the surface of the waters.  I might never arrive at land, or meet with any vessel to rescue me