surrounded, flung upon the deck, and stabbed to death with his own knives.
All but four of the crew shared the fate of the officers. These four, who had been aloft making sail when the conflict began, succeeded in reaching the cabin, where they made a hasty defense. The firearms, which now came into play, soon cleared the deck, and an hour after the fatal admission of the redskins on board, not a sign of them was to be seen.
The interpreter, to whom we owe this narrative, had wisely taken no part in the struggle, and retired with the natives. He tells further how the night was passed on shore among them, and how, though they were still eager for further revenge, they were deterred from approaching the vessel by their dread of the firearms. Early the next morning, a canoe, bearing the interpreter among others, ventured cautiously to paddle within hail. A man presently appeared on deck, and made signs to the redskins to come on board. They hesitated, but, curiosity prevailing over fear, several of them climbed up the ladder. They were allowed to wander about unmolested. The white man they had seen had disappeared; and one by one other canoes crept from the shore, till, as on the day before, the sea was covered with them.
The savages who had first arrived called to their comrades to come on, for there was no danger and plenty of plunder. They were obeyed by all, even by the hitherto cautious interpreter. Eagerly were the bales of merchandise now plundered; wild were the gestures of delight at the strange articles found among them—But what was that? Was the ship moving, or what? An instant's pause of expectation, and then the vessel blew up with a loud noise; the air was darkened with the bodies of the unhappy savages which fell in every direction, torn to a thousand fragments.
The interpreter again escaped as by a miracle. He was clinging to the main chains when the explosion took place, fell into the water, and swam to one of the canoes, in which he made his way back to the land, where crowds had already assembled, and met him with eager inquiries as to the cause of the terrible scene. He was still the center of an eager group when four white men were brought as prisoners into the village, who told how they had escaped from the Tonquin when Lewis, the man who had decoyed the natives on board, decided to blow up the ship. They had hoped to find their way to their comrades at Astoria, but they had been unable to get out of the bay; their boat was cast on shore, and they were soon seized by natives.
