Amsterdam Island is an ancient volcano. On the northeast, or leeward side of the island, the old crater walls have crumbled somewhat, making a harbor of a sort, and it was there we were bound. Soon after I spoke to the captain the yards were braced around, and we changed our course to the eastward. Then the men were sent aloft to take in sail. It happened once more that it was Smith’s watch, and the captain watched him narrowly. He sprang up the fore rigging—again ahead of Miller—and took his station at the foretopsail yardarm—the lee yardarm. Mr. Snow was not on deck. I found afterward that he had been suspended from duty. Captain Nelson was in the second of his cold rages,—the last I ever saw. He said nothing to Smith, however, but he turned to me. “Tim,” he said distinctly, “go below and get my Spencer and a clip of cartridges, and bring them to me. Hurry.” I remember very clearly how mixed my feelings were as I dived into the cabin and got down the captain’s Spencer. I did not dream that Smith would not obey orders when the captain had his rifle in his hands—if he knew the captain. It did not occur to me that perhaps he did not know the captain. I put the loaded rifle in Captain Nelson’s hands, and stood to one side. “Foretopsail yard, there!” he hailed. “You Smith!” Smith looked up. “Lay in off that yard!” Smith insolently put his hand behind his ear, as if he had not heard. His hearing was particularly good, and the captain knew it. “Lay in off that yard!” the captain roared. There could be no excuse for not understanding that. I do not know whether Smith was simply crazy, or whether he thought no captain would dare to shoot a man. I did not really believe it would come to that, but when I {267} saw Smith deliberately put his thumb to his nose, and wiggle his fingers at the captain, I knew that it was the end of him. And the captain raised his rifle, and shot Smith through the head. What else could he do? It was a flagrant case of mutiny. All pretense of discipline, all authority would have been at an end if he had not. To many it may seem like murder. I never knew the rights of the matter, but nothing was ever done about it. The crew had stopped work for the moment, to see how the contest was coming out. When the shot rang out—Spencers did not ring out; it was more like a blow of a sledge—and through the smoke I saw Smith throw up his hands, I gasped. As the body fell like lead into the sea, a gasp went up from the men; then I heard a sort of murmuring from them. They were thrown into consternation. Some went to work again with shaking hands, others stopped work entirely. Those on deck stirred and moved about uncertainly. I was reminded of the ripples which cross and recross when a stone is thrown into a corner of a dock. Captain Nelson called to them sharply. “To your duty, men! In with that topsail!” He tapped his rifle as he spoke.