An Indian came to me with a carving knife to cut my throat, but as he was about to do it, having seized hold of me, I grasped the blade of the knife in my right hand and held it fast, struggling for my life.  The Indian then threw me down, and placing his knee on my breast tried to wrench the knife out of my hand, but I still retained it, although one of my fingers was cut through to the bone.  At last I succeeded in getting uppermost, when I let him go and ran into the sea, and swam out; but being much exhausted, and the only chance of my life was to return to the shore, I landed again fully expecting to be knocked on the head.  The same Indian then came up with an infuriated gesture, and shot me in the right breast with an arrow; and then in a most unaccountable manner suddenly became quite calm, and led or dragged me to a little distance, and offered me some fish and water, which I was unable to partake of.

Whilst struggling with the Indian, I observed Sexton, who was held by another, bite a piece of his arm out, but after that knew nothing of him, until I found his life had been spared in a manner similar to my own.*

(Footnote.  Upon interrogating Ireland to obtain some explanation of the reason their lives were spared, he says, that he has frequently seen the Indians recover themselves in a moment from a violent paroxysm of fury; and he attributes their safety to a circumstance of this nature.  P.P.K.)

At a short distance off, making the most hideous yells, the other savages were dancing round a large fire, before which were placed in a row the heads of their victims; whilst their decapitated bodies were washing in the surf on the beach, from which they soon disappeared, having been probably washed away by the tide.  Sexton and I were then placed in charge of two natives, who covered us with the sail of the canoe, a sort of mat, but paid no attention to my wound, which had been bleeding profusely.

The next day the Indians collected all the heads; and, embarking, removed to another island where the women lived, which they called Pullan.  On landing there, Ireland saw two of Captain D’Oyly’s children, and the ship’s dog, called Portland; the elder (George) D’Oyly, told him that the first raft had landed on the island, and that all the passengers, excepting himself and his brother, had been instantly murdered; that his mother was killed by a blow with a club, and that his little brother was in her arms at the time, but was saved by one of the women, who afterwards took care of him.  The child was seen by Ireland, when they landed, in the woman’s arms, crying very much.  He also saw some pieces of the ship’s cabin doors, attached as ornaments to the heads of their canoes, which they appeared to prize very much, and other relics, among which were the heads of the passengers and crew, of the first raft; those of Mrs. D’Oyly and Captain Moore being plainly distinguishable; the former by the hair, the latter by the features.  The heads were suspended by a rope to a pole that was stuck up near the huts of the women; round which they danced every night and morning, accompanying their infuriated gestures with the most horrid yells.