Edgar Allan Poe emerges as an uncanny harbinger of macabre fate. His eerie tales, like ominous incantations whispered from the abyss, conjure a world where reality and fiction intermingle in a dance of chilling synchronicity. Among the myriad tales of Poe's haunting imagination, none foretells destiny with more haunting precision than "The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket," his sole foray into the realm of the novel. It would be an eerie footnote that feeds into an aura of all-round strangeness pervading Poe’s short life and enduring legacy, that casts him as an archetypal tortured artist brushed by otherworldly traits. The episode sits alongside the mystery of his untimely death, at 40, just four days after he’d turned up delirious on the streets of Baltimore, dressed in someone else’s clothes. The idea that he could peer into the future somehow compliments his enthusiasm and flair for cryptography or code-making, which he incorporated into his 1840 story The Gold-Bug, and seems peculiarly of a piece with his long list of phobias, including insanity and the fear of being buried alive. He was to quote J.W Ocker’s award, Poe-Land, “an angel of the odd.”
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket
Published in 1838, this maritime odyssey plunges readers into a treacherous abyss of seafaring folklore, where shipwrecks, mutiny, and spectral vessels laden with corpses reign supreme. Hostile islanders and an otherworldly, yeti-like menace further embroider the fabric of Poe's maritime tapestry. Yet, it is the sinister undercurrent of cannibalism that elevates this tale to the realm of the inexplicable—a narrative harbinger of the horrors that would soon haunt the pages of history.
"The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket" unfolds as a cryptic memoir penned by its titular narrator, Arthur Gordon Pym, who recounts a perilous voyage into the heart of maritime darkness. Pym's harrowing odyssey commences when, as a student, he befriends Augustus Barnard, the offspring of a ship's captain. Augustus's swashbuckling tales of high-seas heroics awaken an insatiable longing within Pym to embark upon a seafaring adventure. After countless salty escapades and clandestine schemes involving the ship "Grampus," captained by Augustus's father, the die is cast—the youthful dreamer will stow away on this fateful vessel.
Yet, as the winds of destiny unfurl their tempestuous might, Pym's voyage takes a sinister turn. A mutiny erupts, and a monstrous tempest besieges the ill-fated Grampus. In the aftermath of chaos, Augustus and Pym find themselves at the helm of a ship ravaged by nature's fury, accompanied by only two other souls—Dirk Peters and Richard Parker.
However, the true ordeal is only beginning, and Pym's tale remains but halfway through its descent into nautical oblivion. As days turn into a nightmarish blur of thirst and meagre sustenance, the survivors teeter on the precipice of a harrowing decision—a pact with the abyss itself. In a macabre ritual born of the ancient maritime code, they cast lots to designate the unwitting victim who will nourish the others. A sinister lottery unfolds, leaving Pym and Parker as the final contenders in a grim game of survival. In the end, it is Richard Parker who succumbs to the relentless pull of the abyss, becoming the centrepiece of a "fearful repast."
Yet, the inexplicable twist of fate was not confined to the pages of Poe's ominous narrative. It was a premonition, an eerie foreshadowing of the grim fate that would befall a real-life Richard Parker, half a century later. This Parker, too, would endure a shipwreck, but unlike his fictional counterpart, he would not escape the clutches of cannibalism.
As the mists of literary prophecy shroud Poe's work, we find ourselves ensnared in a web of Gothic intrigue and macabre mystery. The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket stands as a testament to Poe's haunting genius—a tale where fiction and reality intertwine, where the echoes of the past reverberate through the corridors of the present, and where the prophetic power of literature casts a chilling spell over the world of the living.
Britain’s last trial for cannibalism at sea
The obituary of John Burton, proprietor of the famous Old Curiosity Shop in Falmouth was printed as a special supplement to the Cornish Echo of 31 May 1907. This included the following paragraph:
Bail for the Mignonette Crew
In the year 1884 the country was horror stricken by the recital of a story of cannibalism at sea. The yacht sunk at sea, and the crew, after being in an open boat nineteen days and nights without provisions, cast lots among themselves as to who should be killed to afford the others' sustenance. It fell to the lot of a boy named Parker to be sacrificed, and he was accordingly killed and eaten. When the crew landed at Falmouth they were arrested and charged with murder, being committed for trial at the Assizes. John Burton came forward as bail for the accused men, £400 for Captain Dudley, £400 for Mr. Stephens, the mate, and £200 for Brooks, the seaman – £1,000 in all. For this act he was presented with a gold snuff box by the citizens of London, a memento he was extremely proud of. The captain and mate were sentenced to death at the Central Criminal Court, London but the sentence was subsequently commuted to one of six months’ imprisonment. Brooks, the seaman, who turned Queen’s evidence, was acquitted.
This case became a ‘Leading Case’ which focussed attention upon whether it could ever be necessary to take the life of another for the sake of oneself, regardless of the circumstances.
The story
In the spring of 1884, against the backdrop of a world steeped in maritime mysteries and fateful voyages, a chilling and enigmatic tale unfolded—an account that would forever etch itself into the annals of nautical history. It was a story of the yacht "Mignonette," an ill-fated vessel, and the harrowing journey that would lead its crew to commit a taboo that shook the world to its core.
The saga began when an Australian gentleman, visiting the distant shores of England, conceived a plan to have his newly acquired yacht, the Mignonette, delivered to his homeland in Australia. In his quest for a capable captain, he encountered a man named Dudley, whose outward appearance of competence masked the grim fate that would soon befall the vessel. Dudley, in turn, enlisted the assistance of three other men: Stephens, Brooks, and a young lad named Parker. Little did they know that this seemingly routine voyage would soon descend into a nightmare beyond imagining.
Setting sail from Southampton on the 19th of May, the crew of the Mignonette charted a course southward, intent on rounding the treacherous Cape of Good Hope. Along the way, they made sporadic stops for rest and resupply, blissfully unaware of the cataclysmic tempest that would soon engulf them.
Around 1500 miles off the coast of Africa, on the ominous date of the 3rd of July, the Mignonette found itself at the mercy of unforgiving winds and towering waves. The once-proud yacht was powerless to resist the relentless onslaught, and within moments, it succumbed to the abyss. In the frenzied chaos that ensued, the four men had barely enough time to scramble into a meagre wooden dinghy, leaving behind crucial supplies, including the precious lifeblood of any survivor—water.
With no water, and for food only two 1 lb tins of turnips grabbed during the Mignonette’s final moments their tale of woe took a sinister turn as desperation clung to them like a spectre on a cursed ship. Over the next twelve days, these meagre rations of turnip would be carefully rationed out, with Dudley using his penknife to divide and then allocate the tiny portions. For water, the crew could do little more than catch rain drops whenever a squall blew up. Soon they resorted to drinking their own urine, although this too was a diminishing resource as they became more and more dehydrated. Lacking the means to catch fish, they subsisted briefly on a fortuitous turtle, but their salvation was fleeting. Days passed, and their condition grew dire. With no other recourse, they faced the agonising prospect of sacrificing one of their own to sustain the rest—an act that dredged the darkest depths of the human soul.
At that time, a sinister maritime tradition known as the "Custom of the Sea" loomed over the horizon—a code that aimed to ensure an equal chance of life or death for all on board. Yet, Dudley's account of their ordeal deviated from this code's intent. Instead of a random selection, he and Stephens fixated on the frail form of young Richard Parker, who had fallen gravely ill from drinking seawater. In their judgement, it seemed reasonable that a boy without family ties should forfeit his life, sparing the three men who bore the weight of familial responsibilities. The decision was made, but Brooks, a man of conscience, chose to abstain.
Dudley and Stephens, burdened by the weight of their fateful choice, carried out the grim task. Parker's life was extinguished, and the three survivors found sustenance in the unthinkable. According to their subsequent depositions, Dudley told Stephens to hold Parker’s legs should he struggle, before kneeling and thrusting his penknife into the boy’s jugular. A chronometer case was used to catch the oozing blood and this was quickly passed between Parker’s three crew mates, to moisten their parched mouths. Parker’s body was then stripped and butchered with the heart and liver eaten immediately. Strips of flesh were cut from the limbs and set aside as future rations before what remained of the young man’s body was then heaved overboard.
Four days later, on the 26th or 27th of July, salvation appeared on the horizon—a German barque named the Montezuma, laden with nitrate, bound for Hamburg. Their desperate plight did not go unnoticed, and their lives were spared. Insisting on a Christian burial for young Parker, the Montezuma carried his remains back to Britain.
Upon their arrival in Falmouth on the 6th of September, the trio of rescued sailors, accompanied by Captain Simonson of the Montezuma, approached the Customs Officer, Mr. Cheeseman, to report their arrival. However, the shadow of their desperate actions had already fallen upon them.
As the minutes of the Harbour Commissioners’ meetings put it:
On the 6th inst. the Police apprehended under a Warrant Thomas Dudley Master; Ed. Stephens, Mate: and E. Brooks Seaman, of the Yacht Mignonette (which foundered) on a charge of killing at Sea on the 20th of July last, the boy Richard Parker after being for 18 days in a small punt with hardly any food or drink. Summonses were also served on two Seamen Dume and Wiese of the German Barque Moctezuma , as Witnesses in the case, the said Barque having picked up at sea the above three men, and the two German sailors being those who cleared the boat of the remains of Parker before taking it aboard. The men were taken before the magistrates on 8th instant, and remanded till the 11th instant, when a further remand was granted till 18th instant at the request of the Treasury which undertakes the prosecution; on the 2nd occasion bail was accepted in £200 for the Captain, and £100 for each of the two others, Mr. Burton becoming surety in all three cases.
Sergeant Laverty, a vigilant policeman employed by the Harbour Commissioners, had overheard their tale and sought legal counsel. The consequences were swift and profound—the men were not permitted to return home. The Falmouth Court bore witness to a remarkable turn of events, as legal proceedings unfolded.
In the eyes of the law, murder and cannibalism had occurred at sea, a transgression of two harrowing taboos. Yet, Falmouth, a town deeply connected to the world of maritime voyages, harboured a nuanced understanding of the sailors' unimaginable ordeal. There was genuine sympathy for both the survivors and the ill-fated boy among the locals. The authorities in Britain viewed matters differently and whilst public opinion in Falmouth was mostly sympathetic to the crew’s actions the local shipping master was required by law to notify the Board of Trade of a violent death on a British ship. He duly sent a telegram to London, then reluctantly arrested the survivors.
The Harbour Commissioners’ minutes continue the story:
On the 16th and 17th ult. Eight witness summonses were served by the officer on duty in connection with the Mignonette. On the 18th ult. The case, which stood adjourned at the request of the Treasury from the 11th ult., again came on for hearing and as no evidence was offered against the man Brooks he was acquitted, and put in the box as a witness against Dudley and Stephens, both of whom after a lengthy investigation were committed for trial at the Winter Assizes at Exeter commencing on the 1st November. Bail was accepted as before, Mr John Burton again becoming surety – Sergeant Laverty and several others were subsequently bound over to appear and give evidence at the trial.
The charge of murder was beyond the purview of the Falmouth Court and thus the transfer to Exeter.
As the legal wheels turned, Dudley and Stephens were committed to trial at Exeter for the charge of murder, their fate hanging in the balance. Surprisingly, they were released on bail, suggesting that they posed no immediate threat to the community.
In the chilling autumn of 1884, the fateful trial of Dudley and Stephens commenced in the solemn chambers of Exeter. As the trial unfolded, it became increasingly apparent that the outcome had been predetermined, orchestrated by the unyielding grip of the law. The presiding figure of Judge Baron Huddleston, a formidable presence, addressed both the jury and a captivated audience with a stern and resolute tone. In his opening statement, he meticulously explained why the law could not extend its embrace to encompass necessity as a justifiable cause for taking a life. With those words, the defence's case was rendered impotent before it had even been presented—an ominous portent of the legal storm that would engulf Dudley and Stephens.
Yet, as the trial progressed, it was clear that the jury, though nudged by the judge's words, harboured hesitations. The spectre of murder loomed ominously, a capital offence that would condemn the men to the grim embrace of the hangman's noose. The fate of Dudley and Stephens teetered on the precipice of justice, and only the prospect of a commuted sentence could shield them from the ultimate punishment.
In a calculated move, Judge Huddleston presented the jury with an extraordinary option—an escape from their heavy responsibility. He proposed the notion of a 'special verdict,' an unusual judicial manoeuvre that would elevate the case to a higher echelon of legal scrutiny. In this way, Dudley and Stephens would be judged not by their peers but by a panel of five judges, a jury of legal scholars.
In the end, it was the judges who delivered the ominous verdict, and the weight of their pronouncement cast a pall over the courtroom. Dudley and Stephens were declared guilty of murder, a condemnation that would ordinarily lead to execution. Justice Coleridge, the senior judge, bore the solemn duty of issuing the sentence—one that could only be commuted if an act of clemency followed.
Days passed like a cruel eternity, and hope wavered. The Home Office, grappling with the unprecedented nature of the case, hesitated over the appropriate course of action. The convicted men, once hailed as desperate survivors, found themselves in a harrowing limbo. The prevailing sentiment was that two murderers could not be absolved entirely of their transgressions, regardless of the haunting circumstances that had driven them to their act.
Ultimately, a decision was reached, one that would spare the lives of Dudley and Stephens but not grant them complete freedom from punishment. The Home Secretary, wielding the cold instrument of justice, decreed a sentence of six months' imprisonment. And so, with their fate sealed, the ill-fated duo embarked on a grim journey to Holloway Prison, their souls weighed down by the knowledge of their actions and the shadows of what might have been.
The story, shrouded in mystery and moral ambiguity, left behind a trail of haunting questions. Why did the citizens of London honour John Burton with a snuff-box? Did the press distort the facts in their pursuit of sensationalism? Most intriguingly, could the sailors have survived without resorting to their gruesome decision? The case of the Mignonette remains a chilling enigma—a testament to the unfathomable depths of human desperation and the ever-elusive boundaries of morality on the high seas.
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