by a club in the hand of a gigantic savage, fell face downward into the water. This seemed to revive him, for he regained his footing and dealt the savage a terrible blow on his head with his bowie-knife pistol, which split his head nearly in two. He then turned towards the boats, when he was struck on the back of his head with a ula, or handy billy, which was thrown with tremendous force by a native a short distance off, and fell senseless into the water.
In the meantime Lieutenant Emmons in the Greyhound had joined Lieutenant Alden in the cutter, and then made for the shore to recover the bodies of their brother officers. They found them stripped of their clothing. Lieutenant Underwood was just alive, and as they lifted him he faintly breathed the words, "Tell — her — that —." These were his last. He had been married but a few weeks before we sailed from Norfolk. Beside him lay Joseph G. Clark, and not far from him Jerome Davis and Robert Furman. Close by the body of Henry were William Leicester and John Sac. They were all stunned. Clark’s upper lip was partly torn away, and was hanging down to his chin. The natives were kept at a distance by the Greyhound's crew, while others were bearing the bodies of their shipmates to the cutter. We soon got under way and pulled for the ship. Arriving on board, every attention that affection could suggest was paid to the wounded. Clark’s lip was a horrible sight. It was sewed up by our surgeon, Dr. Gilchrist. None of the others were wounded, but were quite severely stunned.
The next morning the Flying Fish, on board of which
