A Whale of a Mutiny Story. . . . . . continued

Thus ended the life, of perhaps as cruel, blood-thirsty, and vindictive a being as ever bore the form of humanity. ~ From the account by William Lay and Cyrus Hussey

After the horrific events at the Marshall Islands, the crew of the Globe finally dropped anchor in the Mulgraves on February 13. Knowing he couldn't very well return to New England, Samuel Comstock secretly planned to burn the ship and spend the rest of his life on the island. But Silas Payne, who had aided and abetted Comstock in the mutiny, began to smell a rat. When Comstock seemed a little too "liberal to the natives" when giving away plunder from the ship, Payne suspected that "his object was, no doubt, to attach them as much as possible to his (Comstock's) person." When Payne complained (continuing from Lay and Hussey's account):

Comstock went on board again. . .challenged various members of the crew to fight. But no one accepted his invitation; so the insane youth equipped himself with some hooks and lines, and a knife and a cutlass, and returned to the island, calling as he went over the side, ‘I am going to leave you; look out for yourselves.’ Evading Payne and the others at the landing, and hurrying inland, he joined a band of natives, whom, it was reported, he tried to persuade to butcher the rest of the white men, but with no success.

Comstock was now clearly out of control and and danger to all the men. Payne decided to take matters into his own hands:

Payne and others, made preparations to put him to death. After loading a number of muskets they stationed themselves in front of the tent, and waited his approach. . .he did not make his appearance until within a short distance of the tent, which, as soon as he saw, drew his sword and walked quick towards it, in a menacing manner; but as soon as he saw a number of the muskets levelled at him, he waved his hand, and cried out, “don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me! I will not hurt you!” At this moment they fired, and he fell!—Payne fearing he might pretend to be shot, ran to him with an axe, and nearly severed his head from his body!. . .Thus ended the life, of perhaps as cruel, blood-thirsty, and vindictive a being as ever bore the form of humanity. . .Only twenty-two days had elapsed after the perpetration of the massacre on board the ship, when with all his sins upon his head, he was hurried into eternity!

After Comstock's death nothing else was done that day until Payne, now clearly in charge, made a monumental mistake. He sent six men, under Gilbert Smith's command, to watch over the ship while the other ten remained on shore in the tents. Unbeknownst to Payne, Smith had already "communicated his intentions to a number of running away with the ship." Smith later recounted his story:

At 7 P. M. we began to make preparations for our escape with the ship. . .I sent a man on the fore-yard and another upon the fore-top-sail-yard, with orders to let fall, when I should give the word; one man being at the helm, and two others at the fore tack. . .It was now half past nine o’clock, when I took the handsaw, and in less than two minutes the cable was off!—The ship payed off very quick, and when her head was off the land, there being a breeze from that quarter, the hawser was cut and all the sail we could make upon the ship immediately set, a fine fair wind blowing. A raft of iron hoops, which was towing along side, was cut adrift, and we congratulated each other upon our fortunate escape; for even with a vast extent of ocean to traverse, hope excited in our bosoms a belief that we should again embrace our friends, and our joy was heightened by the reflection, that we might be the means of rescuing the innocents left behind, and having the guilty punished.

Among the six men lucky enough to be on the escaping Globe were four that Smith trusted completely with his mission. These were: both our cousins Peter and Stephen Kidder, George Comstock, brother of the poor deranged mutineer, and Anthony Henson. The fifth man aboard, for whatever reason, was Joseph Thomas, the man who had insulted the captain and initiated the entire chain of events.

Lay and Hussey wrote that "[a]fter a long and boisterous passage the ship arrived at Valparaiso (Chili), when she was taken possession of by the American Consul, Michael Hogan, Esq. and the persons on board were put in irons on board a French frigate, there being no American man-of-war in port."

All six men were interrogated by Hogan and five of them "concurred in believing, that Joseph Thomas was privy to the intention to mutiny, and murder the officers." 

The Globe was then placed in charge of Captain King who took all six men safely back to Nantucket. The five innocent sailors were free to savor "the enjoyment of the society of their families and friends."  Joseph Thomas, on the other hand, was immediately taken into irons and thrown in jail to await trial.

Hussy and Lay, left on the island with Payne and the eight other unlucky Globe sailors, continued their own story:

On the 17th Feb. . .the watch was set consisting of two men, whose duty it was to guard against the thefts of the natives. At about 10 P. M. all hands were awakened by the cry; “The ship has gone, the ship has gone!” Every one hastened to the beach and verified the truth of the report for themselves. Some who were ignorant of the intention of Smith and others, to take the ship, were of opinion that the strong breeze then blowing, had caused her to drag her anchor, and that she would return in the morning.

The morning came, but nothing was to be seen upon the broad expanse of ocean. . .Payne in a paroxism of rage, vented the most dreadful imprecations; swearing that could he get them once more in his power, he would put them to instant death. Not so with us; a ray of hope shot through our minds, that this circumstance might be the means of rescuing us from our lonely situation.—The writers of this narrative were upon the most intimate terms, and frequently, though carefully, sympathized with each other upon their forlorn situation. We dare not communicate our disaffection to the Government of the two surviving mutineers, (Payne and Oliver,) to the others, fearing they might not agree with us in opinion, and we had too good reason to believe, that there was one, who although unstained by blood, yet from his conduct, seemed to sanction the proceedings of the mutineers.

Luckily for the ten men stranded on the island, the natives' "deportment towards us continued to be of the most friendly nature, continuing to barter with us, giving us bread fruit, cocoanuts, &c. for which they received in return, pieces of iron hoop, nails, and such articles as we could conveniently spare."

Sadly for the entire company, Payne took advantage of the natives' hospitality. He brought a woman back to the tent that he intended to have for his wife. When she was gone from the tent in the morning, he went to find her and forcibly brought her back. Then, when he later discovered some tools had been taken by the natives, Payne went into a rampage. Taking four men into the village, Hussy among them, with empty muskets to scare the natives, Payne managed to recover a stolen hatchet.

The natives, now "angry and uncowed," chased the men with stones, killing one of them. When the natives began tearing apart the boat the men had rowed ashore in, Payne decided to go out and try to pacify them. After an hour he came back and told the men what the natives had asked for. In Lay and Hussy's words:

They were to have every article belonging to us, even to the tent; and Payne had assured them of his willingness. . .to live with, and be governed by them, and to adopt their mode of living! We have reason to doubt the sincerity of Payne in this respect, for what was to us a hope which we cherished with peculiar pleasure, must have been to him, a source of fearful anticipation—we mean the probable safe arrival of the ship, in the U. S. which should result in our deliverance. Our situation at this time was truly alarming. . .Surrounded by a horde of savages, brandishing their war clubs and javelins, our more than savage commanders, (Payne and Oliver) in anxious suspense as to the result of their negociations with them; no refuge from either foe, and what contributed not a little to our unhappiness, was a consciousness of being innocent of having in the least manner wilfully aided the destroyers of the lives of our officers, and the authors of our now, truly unhappy situation.

William Lay had been especially friendly with the natives and, as the islanders began taking the sailors' belongings, an old man and his wife grabbed Lay and took him to the side. They knew what was coming. Lay's account continues:

Suffice it to say, that all at once my ears were astounded with the most terrifying whoops and yells; when a massacre commenced but little exceeded by the one perpetrated on board the Globe. Our men fled in all directions, but met a foe at every turn. Lilliston and Joe Brown fell within six feet of me, and as soon as down, the natives macerated their heads with large stones. The first whom I saw killed, was Columbus Worth. An old woman, apparently sixty years of age, ran him through with a spear, and finished him with stones!

My protectors, for now they were truly so, shut out the scene by laying down upon the top of me, to hide me from the view of the merciless foe! I was however discovered, and one of the natives attempted to get a blow at me with a handspike, which was prevented by them; when, after a few words, he hurried away.

As soon as the work of death had been completed, the old man took me by the hand and hurried me along towards the village. . .where we arrived about noon. . .Believing myself the sole survivor, the reader must pardon any attempt to describe my feelings, when I saw a number of the natives approaching the hut, and in the midst, Cyrus M. Hussey, conducted with great apparent kindness.

The two men, now 18 and 19 years of age respectively, were the only survivors of the Globe left on the island. They lived in separate households in the village and were rarely allowed to see one another. The natives, while always "gracious and hospitable," were fearful that their valued guests might be taken away. They made sure there was no sign of either man whenever a ship would arrive in the harbor.

Lay and Hussy had myriad experiences during their stay on the island. They learned from the natives how to fish and how to dry breadfruit. When the natives believed them responsible for an unknown epidemic, they both came close to being put to death. After the epidemic, a famine left the men hungry for months.

After almost two years on the island, the two Americans had almost given up hope of ever seeing their homes again. Then, on the 23rd of December, 1825, Lay awoke to find a ship anchored at the head of the island. In spite of the natives' attempts to hide him, he finally came up with a plan they listened to. Lay told them he would lure the newcomers off their boat and when they came ashore, the natives could kill them. The natives bought Lay's story. From the Atlantic article:

They greased him from head to foot with coconut oil, and gave him strict orders concerning his behavior. Then, followed by a hundred islanders, the boy went out on the beach, face to face, for the first time in two years, with a number of men of his own blood.

Hailing the boat in English, which, of course, the natives could not understand, he warned her men of the plot, and made sure that they were well armed; then, as they landed, he ran up to the officer in command, who grasped his hand and asked if he had been in the crew of the Globe.

With the white men he retreated into the boat, while all the natives remained seated in accordance with his plan, except Lay’s master, an old fellow whom he had called father, who rushed after him and tried to drag him back, until the boat’s crew threatened the old man with a pistol.

The vessel, Lay now learned, was the U.S. schooner Dolphin, which had sailed from Chorillos, near Lima, on August 17, 1825, by order of Commodore Isaac Hull, to find and bring back the survivors of the Globe. With Lay as guide and interpreter, her officers and men in short order forced the natives to give up Hussey, whom they had concealed.

Thus is concluded the story of the Globe. For a while, it was one of the famous stories of New England; now, at the end of a hundred years, it appears to be nearly forgotten. Yet I venture to prophesy that never, so long as people read our old stories of the sea, will it be completely lost.

Stephen and Peter Kidder

Stephen and Peter Kidder left on their Globe voyage in December of 1822. They reached Hawaii in May of 1823. The murder of the captain and his officers happened in January of 1824. By the middle of February the brothers had made their escape from the island with Gilbert Smith. They arrived in Valparaiso around the end of May and were interrogated in the middle of June. They arrived back in Nantucket in November of 1824.

I don't know the circumstances of Peter's death but he died in Nantucket in 1827, just three years after returning home after his horrific ordeal.

Ca. 1830, Stephen married Eunice Davis and the couple had three children. They named their first born son, Peter Coffin Kidder (5C3X), after the brother with whom Stephen had shared the Globe adventure. Peter lived the rest of his life out in Edgartown. He died in 1871 at age 66.

Next up we have Peter and Stephen's depositions given in Valpraiso in 1824.