ur own
boats to the spot where our grape-shot had sunk the boat in which the
native had said he had seen my husband. The water was only about four
fathoms deep, and we could clearly see numbers of bodies lying on the
white sandy bottom. One by one they were raised to the surface and
examined, and the fifth one raised was that of my poor husband. His arms
were bound behind his back, and his chest and face were shattered by
grape-shot.

"A wild fury took possession of me, but I could not speak. I could only
point to the ship. We went back on board, and my husband's body was laid
on deck for the crew to see.

"I hardly know what I did or said, but I do remember that Watts swore to
me that I should be revenged, and in a few minutes I was seated beside
him in one of our own boats with a pistol in my hand, and we, in company
with thirty or forty canoes, were on our way to the ships anchored
outside.

"What followed I cannot remember, but Watts told me that I was the first
to spring up the side of the French brigantine, and that the captain,
as I fired my pistol at him, struck off my hand with his sword, and
was then himself cut down by the carpenter. There were but nine men on
board, and these were soon disposed of by our men, who gave no quarter.
My husband's vessel was in charge of but three of the enemy, and from
them, when they surrendered, we heard that every one of her crew, except
the mate Myson and my husband, had been cruelly slaughtered at Vavitao
a few days previously. Watts tried to save the lives of these three men,
but in vain; the natives killed them, in spite of all his efforts. They
died bravely enough, poor wretches.

"Watts and the carpenter succeeded in saving my life, and the stump of
my arm healed up very quickly, for I was always a strong and vigorous
woman. When they came to search the cabin of the French brigantine
they found that her captain--the man who had cut off my hand--was Louis
Pellatier, the very same man who, years before, had attempted to shoot
my poor husband at the Galapagos Islands.

"I sailed with Watts to Port Jackson a few months later in the French
brigantine, which was sold as a prize, and remained there for nearly two
years. Then the loneliness of my life began to affect my health, and so
I returned here to live and die. And here on this island have I lived
for nearly fifty years in peace and happiness, for since Randle and his
family came here I have been very happy, and now