the people to run away with the haulyards, by striking the ship's bell with his cutlass, and, in a moment, the criminal was run up to the yard-arm. "After the death of the officers, Comstock made us all live in the cabin with him, where the mutineers used to sing, and carouse, and tell over the story of the murder, and what they had dreamed. Paine and Oliver, who could scarcely ever sleep, spoke with horror of their dreams, and of ghosts that appeared to them at night; but Comstock always made light of it, and appeared to exult in what he had done. He said once, that the captain came to him with his wounded and bloody head, and showed him what he had done, when he told the captain to depart and never come again, or he would kill him a second time. "After our arrival here, we made a raft of two whale-boats and some spars, and on the first or second day, landed thirty or forty barrels of beef and pork, sails, rigging, and a variety of other articles, when Comstock having pitched a tent on shore, commenced with the mechanics to work on a whale-boat that he was going to raise upon and make larger. Paine was displeased with his doing this so soon, and sent word to him that he had better discharge the ship, and then work upon the boats. This greatly enraged Comstock, who hailed the ship for a boat, and on her being sent to him, came on board. There he and Paine had a violent quarrel, and Paine dared him to take a musket and go on shore with him and fight it out, which Comstock refused to do. When he landed, being afraid that Paine and Oliver would kill him if he slept in the tent, he went off to pass the night with the natives; in his absence, Paine and Oliver agreed to shoot him when he came back; accordingly, on the following morning, he was seen coming along the beach alone, "and when he had arrived within good gun-shot, they commenced firing at him; without changing his pace, he continued to advance, and drawing his cutlass, called out to Paine to stop firing and he would make peace with him; Paine, however, continued to fire, and, at the third or fourth discharge, Comstock fell lifeless upon his face, a ball having pierced his heart. Fearing that he might not be quite dead, and perhaps would get up again, Paine ran up to him with an axe, and cut off the back of his neck. He was buried close to the tent, in the manner he had often expressed a wish to be, with all his clothes on, and his cutlass hung to his side. Upon first landing, he had fixed upon a site for a town, and amongst other public buildings that he contemplated erecting, was a church, for which he had selected what he considered an eligible situation.