As far as could be ascertained, the mutiny had not been
      brought about altogether for the sake of booty; a private pique
      of the chief mate’s against Captain Barnard having been the main
      instigation. There now seemed to be two principal factions among
      the crew—one headed by the mate, the other by the cook. The
      former party were for seizing the first suitable vessel which
      should present itself, and equipping it at some of the West India
      Islands for a piratical cruise. The latter division, however,
      which was the stronger, and included Dirk Peters among its
      partisans, were bent upon pursuing the course originally laid out
      for the brig into the South Pacific; there either to take whale,
      or act otherwise, as circumstances should suggest. The
      representations of Peters, who had frequently visited these
      regions, had great weight, apparently, with the mutineers,
      wavering, as they were, between half-engendered notions of profit
      and pleasure. He dwelt on the world of novelty and amusement to
      be found among the innumerable islands of the Pacific, on the
      perfect security and freedom from all restraint to be enjoyed,
      but, more particularly, on the deliciousness of the climate, on
      the abundant means of good living, and on the voluptuous beauty
      of the women. As yet, nothing had been absolutely determined
      upon; but the pictures of the hybrid line-manager were taking
      strong hold upon the ardent imaginations of the seamen, and there
      was every possibility that his intentions would be finally
      carried into effect. The three men went away in about an hour, and no one else entered
      the forecastle all day. Augustus lay quiet until nearly night. He
      then freed himself from the rope and irons, and prepared for his
      attempt. A bottle was found in one of the berths, and this he
      filled with water from the pitcher left by Peters, storing his
      pockets at the same time with cold potatoes. To his great joy he
      also came across a lantern, with a small piece of tallow candle
      in it. This he could light at any moment, as he had in his
      possession a box of phosphorus matches. When it was quite dark,
      he got through the hole in the bulkhead, having taken the
      precaution to arrange the bedclothes in the berth so as to convey
      the idea of a person covered up. When through, he hung up the
      pea-jacket on his knife, as before, to conceal the aperture—this
      manoeuvre being easily effected, as he did not readjust the piece
      of plank taken out until afterward. He was now on the main orlop
      deck, and proceeded to make his way, as before, between the upper
      deck and the oil-casks to the main hatchway. Having reached this,
      he lit the piece of candle, and descended, groping with extreme
      difficulty among the compact stowage of the hold. In a few
      moments he became alarmed at the insufferable stench and the
      closeness of the atmosphere. He could not think it possible that
      I had survived my confinement for so long a period breathing so
      oppressive an air. He called my name repeatedly, but I made him
      no reply, and his apprehensions seemed thus to be confirmed. The
      brig was rolling violently, and there was so much noise in
      consequence, that it was useless to listen for any weak sound,
      such as those of my breathing or snoring. He threw open the
      lantern, and held it as high as possible, whenever an opportunity
      occurred, in order that, by observing the light, I might, if
      alive, be aware that succor was approaching. Still nothing was
      heard from me, and the supposition of my death began to assume
      the character of certainty. He determined, nevertheless, to force
      a passage, if possible, to the box, and at least ascertain beyond
      a doubt the truth of his surmises. He pushed on for some time in
      a most pitiable state of anxiety, until, at length, he found the
      pathway utterly blocked up, and that there was no possibility of
      making any farther way by the course in which he had set out. Overcome now by his feelings, he threw himself among the lumber
      in despair, and wept like a child. It was at this period that he
      heard the crash occasioned by the bottle which I had thrown down. Fortunate, indeed, was it that the incident occurred—for, upon
      this incident, trivial as it appears, the thread of my destiny
      depended. Many years elapsed, however, before I was aware of this
      fact. A natural shame and regret for his weakness and indecision
      prevented Augustus from confiding to me at once what a more
      intimate and unreserved communion afterward induced him to
      reveal. Upon finding his further progress in the hold impeded by
      obstacles which he could not overcome, he had resolved to abandon
      his attempt at reaching me, and return at once to the forecastle. Before condemning him entirely on this head, the harassing
      circumstances which embarrassed him should be taken into
      consideration. The night was fast wearing away, and his absence
      from the forecastle might be discovered; and indeed would
      necessarily be so, if he should fail to get back to the berth by
      daybreak. His candle was expiring in the socket, and there would
      be the greatest difficulty in retracing his way to the hatchway
      in the dark. It must be allowed, too, that he had every good
      reason to believe me dead; in which event no benefit could result
      to me from his reaching the box, and a world of danger would be
      encountered to no purpose by himself. He had repeatedly called,
      and I had made him no answer. I had been now eleven days and
      nights with no more water than that contained in the jug which he
      had left with me—a supply which it was not at all probable I had
      hoarded in the beginning of my confinement, as I had every cause
      to expect a speedy release. The atmosphere of the hold, too, must
      have appeared to him, coming from the comparatively open air of
      the steerage, of a nature absolutely poisonous, and by far more
      intolerable than it had seemed to me upon my first taking up my
      quarters in the box—the hatchways at that time having been
      constantly open for many months previous. Add to these
      considerations that of the scene of bloodshed and terror so
      lately witnessed by my friend; his confinement, privations, and
      narrow escapes from death, together with the frail and equivocal
      tenure by which he still existed—circumstances all so well
      calculated to prostrate every energy of mind—and the reader will
      be easily brought, as I have been, to regard his apparent falling
      off in friendship and in faith with sentiments rather of sorrow
      than of anger.