The first that fell was Mr. Lewis, the ship’s clerk.  He was leaning, with folded arms, over a bale of blankets, engaged in bargaining, when he received a deadly stab in the back, and fell down the companion-way.

Mr. M’Kay, who was seated on the taffrail, sprang on his feet, but was instantly knocked down with a war-club and flung backwards into the sea, where he was despatched by the women in the canoes.

In the meantime Captain Thorn made desperate fight against fearful odds.  He was a powerful as well as a resolute man, but he had come upon deck without weapons.  Shewish, the young chief singled him out as his peculiar prey, and rushed upon him at the first outbreak.  The captain had barely time to draw a clasp-knife with one blow of which he laid the young savage dead at his feet.  Several of the stoutest followers of Shewish now set upon him.  He defended himself vigorously, dealing crippling blows to right and left, and strewing the quarter-deck with the slain and wounded.  His object was to fight his way to the cabin, where there were fire-arms; but he was hemmed in with foes, covered with wounds, and faint with loss of blood.  For an instant he leaned upon the tiller wheel, when a blow from behind, with a war-club, felled him to the deck, where he was despatched with knives and thrown overboard.

While this was transacting upon the quarter-deck, a chance-medley fight was going on throughout the ship.  The crew fought desperately with knives, handspikes, and whatever weapon they could seize upon in the moment of surprise.  They were soon, however, overpowered by numbers, and mercilessly butchered.

As to the seven who had been sent aloft to make sail, they contemplated with horror the carnage that was going on below.  Being destitute of weapons, they let themselves down by the running rigging, in hopes of getting between decks.  One fell in the attempt, and was instantly despatched; another received a death-blow in the back as he was descending; a third, Stephen Weekes, the armorer, was mortally wounded as he was getting down the hatchway.

The remaining four made good their retreat into the cabin, where they found Mr. Lewis, still alive, though mortally wounded.  Barricading the cabin door, they broke holes through the companion-way, and, with the muskets and ammunition which were at hand, opened a brisk fire that soon cleared the deck.

Thus far the Indian interpreter, from whom these particulars are derived, had been an eye-witness to the deadly conflict.  He had taken no part in it, and had been spared by the natives as being of their race.  In the confusion of the moment he took refuge with the rest, in the canoes.  The survivors of the crew now sallied forth, and discharged some of the deck-guns, which did great execution among the canoes, and drove all the savages to shore.

For the remainder of the day no one ventured to put off to the ship, deterred by the effects of the fire-arms.  The night passed away without any further attempts on the part of the natives.  When the day dawned, the Tonquin still lay at anchor in the bay, her sails all loose and flapping in the wind, and no one apparently on board of her.  After a time, some of the canoes ventured forth to reconnoitre, taking with them the interpreter.