THRILLING NARRATIVES
OF

MUTINY, MURDER AND PIRACY,

A WEIRD SERIES OF

Tales of Shipwreck and Disaster,

FROM THE EARLIEST PART OF THE CENTURY TO THE PRESENT TIME,

WITH ACCOUNTS OF

Providential Escapes

AND

HEART-RENDING FATALITIES.

NEW YORK:
HURST & CO., Publishers,
122 NASSAU ST.

[Pg v]

PREFACE.

Shipwreck may be ranked among the greatest
evils which man can experience. It is never void
of danger, frequently of fatal issue, and invariably
productive of regret. It is one against which there
is the least resource, where patience, fortitude and
ingenuity are in most cases, unavailing, except to
protract a struggle with destiny, which, at length,
proves irresistible.

But amidst the myriads unceasingly swallowed
up by the deep, it is not by the numbers that we
are to judge of the miseries endured. Hundreds
may at once meet an instantaneous fate, hardly
conscious of its approach, while a few individuals
may linger out existence, daily in hope of succor,
and at length be compelled to the horrible alternative
of preying on each other for the support of life.
Neither is it by the Narratives about to be given
that we are to calculate on the frequency of shipwreck.
It is an event that has been of constant
occurrence since a period long anterior to what the
earliest records can reach. In England it is calculated
that about 5000 natives of the British Isles
yearly perish at sea.

This perpetual exposure to peril, however, materially
contributes to the formation of character, and
hence are sailors preeminently distinguished by
courage, endurance, and ready invention. Habituated
to the instability of the ocean, they make little
account of danger, and are invariably the first in
[Pg vi]
matters of the most daring enterprise. Incessantly
subjected to toil, they labor long and patiently without
murmur, and the prompt and vigorous measures
which are indispensable to their security, teach
them the immediate application of whatever means
are within their power.

A natural desire to know the fate of their fellow
creatures seems implanted in the breast of mankind,
and the most powerful sympathies are excited by
listening to the misfortunes of the innocent. To
record some impressive examples of calamity, or
unlooked for deliverance, is the object of these
pages; and it will be seen of what astonishing
advantage are the virtues of decision, temperance,
perseverance and unwavering hope in moments of
extreme peril and despair.

[Pg vii]

CONTENTS.

[Pg 7]

THE

BOOK OF THE OCEAN.

ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN WOODWARD AND
FIVE SEAMEN IN THE ISLAND OF CELEBES.

In the year 1791, Woodward sailed from Boston in the
ship Robert Morris, Captain Hay, for the East Indies. On
his arrival there he was employed in making country voyages
until the 20th of January, when he sailed as chief-mate
in an American ship from Batavia bound to Manilla.

In passing through the straits of Macassar, they found the
wind and current both against them, and after beating up for
six weeks they fell short of provision. Captain Woodward
and five seamen were sent to purchase some from a vessel
about four leagues distant. They were without water, provisions,
or compass,—having on board only an axe, a boat
hook, two penknives, a useless gun and forty dollars in cash.

They reached the ship at sunset, and were told by the
captain that he had no provision to spare as he was bound to
China and was victualled for only one month. He advised
them to stay until morning, which they did. But when
morning dawned, their own ship was out of sight even from
the mast head, and with a fair wind for her to go through the
straits of Macassar. Being treated coolly by the captain,
they agreed with one voice to leave the ship in search of their
own. On leaving the vessel, the captain gave them twelve
musket cartridges and a round bottle of brandy, but neither
water nor provision of any sort.

[Pg 8]
They rowed till twelve o’clock at night, in hopes of seeing
their own vessel, and then drawing near an island they
thought it prudent to go there to get some fresh water.—They
landed and made a large fire in hopes their ship might
see it. But not being able to see any thing of her in the
morning and finding no water or provisions on the island,
they continued their course in the middle of the straits six
days longer, without going on shore or tasting of any thing
but brandy. They soon had the shore of Celebes in sight,
where they determined to go in search of provisions and then
to proceed to Macassar.

As they approached the shore they saw two proas full of
natives, who immediately put themselves in a posture of defence.
The sailors made signs to them that they wanted provisions,
but instead of giving it the Malays began to brandish
their cresses or steel daggers. Three of the men jumped
on board a proa to beg some Indian corn, and got three or
four small ears. The chief seemed quite friendly and agreed
to sell captain Woodward two cocoa nuts for a dollar, but as
soon as he had received the money, he immediately began to
strip him in search of more. Captain Woodward defended
himself with a hatchet and ordered the boat to be shoved off,
the chief levelled a musket at him, but fortunately it missed
him.

They then stood off, went round a point of land and landed
out of sight of the proas, when they found a plenty of cocoa
nut trees. Captain Woodward while engaged in cutting
them down, heard the man whom he had left to take care of
the boat, scream out in a most bitter manner. He ran immediately
to the beach where he saw his own boat off at some
distance full of Malays and the poor fellow who guarded it
lying on his back with his throat cut, and his body stabbed in
several places.

They now fled immediately to the mountains, and finding
that they had lost their boat, money, and most of their clothes,
they concluded that their only chance of escape was to get
to Macassar by land. Being afraid to travel in the day time
they set out in the evening, taking a star for their guide bearing
south. But they soon lost sight of the star and at daylight
found themselves within a few rods of the place, where
they had set out. They had travelled on the side of a mountain,
and had gone quite round it instead of going straight
over it. They started again and travelled by the sea shore
[Pg 9]
six nights successively, living on berries and water found in
the hollows of trees.

On the sixth they arrived at a bay where they saw a party
of the Malays fishing. Here Captain Woodward found some
yellowish berries which were to him quite palatable, but his
men not liking them eat some of the leaves. On the next
day they concluded to make a raft and go to the small island
on which they first landed, thinking that they might be taken
off from it by some ship passing that way. But they were
obliged to abandon this project, for in the evening the men
who had eaten the leaves, were attacked with violent pains
and were crying out in torture during the whole night.—Although
they got better towards evening yet they were so
weak and dejected that Captain Woodward was convinced
that they could not reach the island and asked them if they
were willing to surrender themselves to the Malays. On reflection
they all thought this the best course which they could
take; and forthwith proceeded to the bay where they had
seen the Malays in the morning, in order at once either to find
friends or to meet their fate. At first they saw no one, but
Captain Woodward soon saw three of the natives approaching
him; and ordering his men to keep quiet, he advanced
alone until he had come within a short distance of them,
where they stopped and drew out their cresses or knives.—Captain
Woodward fell on his knees and begged for mercy.
The Malays looked at him for about ten minutes with their
knives drawn, when one of them came towards him, knelt in
the same manner and offered both his hands. More natives
now came up and stripped them of their hats and handkerchiefs
and even the buttons on their jackets, which they took
for money.

They were now taken to Travalla and carried to the court-house
or judgment hall, accompanied by a great concourse of
people, including women and children who made a circle at
some distance from them. The chief soon entered, looking
as wild as a madman, carrying in his hand a large drawn cress
or knife, the blade of which was two feet and half long and
very bright. Captain Woodward approached so near to him
as to place the foot of the chief on his own head, as a token
that he was completely under his power and direction. The
chief after holding a short consultation, returned to his house
and brought out five pieces of betel nut, which he gave to
the sailors as a token of friendship.

[Pg 10]
They were now permitted to rest until about eight o’clock
when they were carried to the Rajah’s house, where they
found a supper provided for them of sago-bread and peas, but
in all hardly enough for one man. Their allowance afterwards
was for each man a cocoa nut and an ear of Indian
corn at noon, and the same at night. In this manner they
lived about twenty days, but were not allowed to go out except
to the water to bathe. The natives soon began to relax
their vigilance over them, and in about four months, they
were conveyed to the head Rajah of Parlow. They had not
been there long when the head Rajah sent to a Dutch port
called Priggia, which is at the head of a deep bay on the east
side of the island and which is under the care of a commandant
who was a Frenchman, and had been thirty years in the
Dutch service. He arrived at Parlow and sent for Capt. Woodward.
He wished him to go with him to Priggia where he
resided, but Captain Woodward refused, being apprehensive
that he should be forced into the Dutch service. The commandant
then enquired where he intended to go. He answered
to Batavia or Macassar and thence to Bengal. He did
not offer Captain Woodward or his people either money, assistance,
or clothes, but seemed quite affronted.

The Rajah now gave him the liberty of returning to Travalla,
taking care, however, to send him in the night for fear
that he should get sight of Dungally, where there lived a Mahomedan
priest called Juan Hadgee. This priest had been at
Travalla, and offered a ransom for Captain Woodward and
his men, but the natives were unwilling to take it, and were
fearful that their captives would try to escape to the town
where the priest lived. It happened however, that they were
becalmed off Dungally, so that Captain Woodward could observe
its situation. On arriving at Travalla, he attempted to
escape alone by water, but the canoe being leaky, he came
very near losing his life. But not discouraged, he started
immediately for Dungally by land, and reached it just as the
day dawned.

Juan Hadgee received him kindly and provided him with
food and clothing. In the course of three days the chief of
Travalla learning that he had gone to Dungally, sent after
him, but the old priest and the Rajah of Dungally refused to
let him go. They told him that in the course of three months
they would convey him to Batavia or Macassar, and also desired
him to send for the four men he had left at Travalla.—This
he did by means of a letter which he wrote with a pen
[Pg 11]
of bamboo, and sent by the captain of a proa, who delivered it
secretly. The men made their escape from Parlow at the
time of a feast, early in the evening, and arrived at Dungally
at twelve o’clock the next day. They were received with
great rejoicing by the natives, who immediately brought them
plenty of victuals. And this fortunate circumstance revived
their hopes of reaching some European settlement, after many
narrow escapes and difficulties.

Juan Hadgee now informed Capt. Woodward that he should
set off in about two months, but that he must first make a
short voyage for provisions, which he did, leaving Captain
Woodward in his house with his wife and two servants.

They soon began to suffer exceedingly for the want of provisions,
so that the natives were obliged to convey them up
the country, there to be supplied by some of the same tribe,
who regularly went from the village into the country at a certain
season to cultivate rice and Indian corn. But the Rajah
of Parlow making war on the Rajah of Dungally, because
the latter would not deliver them up, they were soon brought
back to Dungally. There was but one engagement, and then
the men of Parlow were beaten and driven back to their own
town.

Provisions again growing scarce, Juan Hadgee was bound
for another port called Sawyah, situated about two degrees
north of the line. He gave Captain Woodward permission to
accompany him, provided the Rajah was willing, but the latter
refused, saying that he must stay there and keep guard.
Captain Woodward now mustered his men, and taking their
guns they went to the house of the Rajah and told him they
would stand guard no longer for they wished to go to Macassar.
He immediately replied that they should not. Being
determined not to live longer in this manner, and finding no
other means of escaping, Captain Woodward came to the
resolution of stealing a canoe, to which all the men agreed.
They were lucky enough to obtain one and seemed in a fair
way to make their escape, but just as they were getting into it
they were surrounded by about twenty natives and carried before
the Rajah, who ordered them to account for their conduct.
They told him that they could get nothing to eat, and
were determined to quit the place on the first opportunity that
offered. Nothing of consequence resulted from this.—Knowing
the language and people they had now become fearless
of danger.

[Pg 12]
The Rajah refusing to let them go with Juan Hadgee they
determined to run away with him, which they were enabled to
do, as the old man set out at twelve o’clock at night, and there
happened luckily to be a canoe on the beach near his own.—This
they took and followed him as well as they could, but
they soon parted from him, and in the morning discovered a
proa close by them filled with Malays. They told them that
they were bound with the old man to Sawyah. The Malays
took them at their word and carried them there instead of to
Dungally, which was a lucky escape to them for that time.—Whilst
residing at Sawyah the old priest carried Captain
Woodward to an island in the bay of Sawyah, which he granted
to him, and in compliment called it Steersman’s Island,
steersman being the appellation by which Captain Woodward
was distinguished by the natives. After staying some time in
Sawyah and making sago, which they bartered for fish and
cocoa-nuts, they left the place and proceeded to Dumpolis, a
little to the southward of Sawyah. Juan Hadgee soon left
the place for Tomboo about a day’s sail south, where he had
business. Here Captain Woodward and his men also followed
him. The old priest was willing to assist them to escape
from here, but was evidently unable to do it. Tomboo being
under the direction of the Rajah of Dungally.

Fortunately they succeeded in stealing a canoe in the night,
and once more shoving off, they directed their course to a small
island in the bay, where they landed at daybreak. Not being
able to find water here as they expected, they landed at another
point of land, which they knew to be uninhabited.—Having
obtained water and repaired their canoe, they directed
their course to Macassar, which was then about five degrees
to the southward. After coasting along the island for
the space of eight days, during which time they were twice
very nearly taken by the Malays, they arrived at a part of the
island of Celebes, which was very thickly inhabited.

They passed many towns and saw many proas within the
harbors. Having observed a retired place, they landed to procure
some fresh water, but they had hardly got a draught
each, when two canoes were seen coming to the very place
where they were. They immediately shoved off and kept on
their course all day. Just as the sun went down they discovered
two canoes not far from them fishing. As soon as the
natives saw them they made the best of their way to the shore.
Captain Woodward wished to inquire the distance to Macassar,
but not being able to stop them he made for one of two
[Pg 13]
canoes which he saw at a distance lying at anchor. Being
told that the captain was below and asleep he went down and
awakened him. He came on deck with three or four men
all armed with spears, and inquired where they were going.
Captain Woodward told him to Macassar and inquired of him
the distance to that place. He answered that it would take a
month and a day to reach it. Captain Woodward told him it
was not true and made the best of his way off. The Malays
however made chase, but Captain Woodward and his men by
putting out to sea and making great exertion, soon lost sight
of them and were able again to stand in towards the land.

At daylight they discovered a number of fishing canoes,
two of which made towards them. They let them come
alongside as there was only one man in each. One of them
came on board and Captain Woodward put the same question
to him respecting Macassar. He first said it would take
thirty days to reach there and asked them to go on shore and
see the Rajah. But they declined doing this, and he afterwards
acknowledged that a proa could go there in two days.

They then left the canoe and sailed along the coast. At
evening they perceived a proa full of Malay men set off from
the shore. It was soon along side, and four of them jumping
into the boat nearly upset her, and thus Captain Woodward and
his men were again prisoners of the Malays. They were carried
to a town called Pamboon and then conducted to the
Rajah’s house. The Rajah demanded of them whence they
came and whither they were going. Captain Woodward answered
the same as before; he also told him that they must go
immediately, and must not be stopped. They had now become
so familiar with dangers and with captures, and were also
so much nearer Macassar, than they could have expected
after so many narrow escapes, that they became more and more
desperate and confident, from the persuasion that they should
at last reach their destined port.

In the morning Captain Woodward again waited on the
Rajah, and begged to be sent to Macassar; telling him that
the Governor had sent for them, who would stop all his proas
at Macassar if he detained them. After thinking on it a
short time, he called the captain of a proa, and delivered the
prisoners to him, telling him to carry them to Macassar, and
if he could get anything for them to take it, but if not to let
them go. The proa not being ready they stayed in the canoe
three days, quite overcome by their many hardships and fatigues.
Captain Woodward having had no shirt, the sun had
[Pg 14]
burnt his shoulder so as to lay it quite bare and produce a bad
sore. Here he caught cold, and was attacked with a violent
fever, so that by the time the proa was ready to sail he was
unable to stand. He was carried and laid on the deck without
a mat or any kind of clothing. The cold nights and frequent
showers of rain would without doubt have killed him,
had he not been kept alive by the hopes of reaching Macassar,
the thoughts of which kept up all their spirits.

They landed at Macassar on the 15th of June 1795, after a
voyage of about nineteen days from Tomboo, and after having
been two years and five months in captivity; the reckoning
which Captain Woodward kept during that time, being
wrong only one day.

AN OCCURRENCE AT SEA.

In June, 1824, I embarked at Liverpool on board the Vibelia
transport with the head-quarters of my regiment, which
was proceeding to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Our passage across
the Atlantic was smooth, though long and tedious. After
passing over the great bank of Newfoundland, catching large
quantities of codfish and halibut, and encountering the usual
fogs, we were one morning, about the end of July, completely
becalmed. All who have performed a voyage, know the feeling
of listlessness to which a landsman abandons himself during
a calm. The morning was slowly passed in looking for
appearances of a breeze—whistling for a wind, and the other
idle pursuits usual on such occasions. Towards noon, a sailor
from aloft pointed out to our observation a vessel at a distance,
also, of course, becalmed. All eyes and glasses were immediately
directed towards her, but she was too far off for the
most experienced to determine whether she was English or
foreign, man-of-war or merchantman. After a time it occurred
to me, that it was a favorable opportunity for breaking in
upon the monotony of the day. My influence with our captain
[Pg 15]
obtained permission for the small cutter to be lowered, but he
would not allow a single seaman to leave the ship. I therefore
became coxswain of the boat, and, accompanied by four of my
brother officers as rowers, we pushed off, determined to pay a
visit to the strange sail. To our landsmen’s eyes and judgment,
she had appeared to be about four miles from us, but we
found ourselves very much out in our calculation—it was more
than double that distance. The rowers, however, pulled on
bravely—we neared the stranger, making her out to be a large
American merchantman, and as he was approached, we observed
a number of persons on deck reconnoitring us through
glasses. At length we were alongside, and I passed on board,
followed by three of my companions, one remaining in charge
of the boat. On reaching the deck, we found it crowded with
men, who seemed to regard us with wondering looks. I stepped
forward and was received by the Captain, who acquainted
me that his vessel was the American ship Cadmus, on her
passage from Havre-de-grace to New York, with General the
Marquis de Lafayette and suite as passengers. A noble,
venerable looking veteran advanced from the poop towards us,
and offered his greetings with the courtesy of the old French
school. He was Lafayette. My explanation of who we
were, and the motive of our visit, appeared to excite his surprise.
That five officers of the land service, unaccompanied
by a single sailor, should leave their vessel on the open ocean,
and from mere curiosity, visit a strange sail at such a distance,
was, he declared, most extraordinary. He said they had observed
our ship early in the morning—had been occupied
(like ourselves) in vain endeavors to make us out—had remarked
an object, a mere speck upon the sea, leave the vessel
and move towards them, and when at length it was made out
to be a boat, the probable cause of such a circumstance had
given rise to many surmises. I told him in mitigation of
what he deemed our rashness, that we were, as a nation, so
essentially maritime, that every man in England was more or
less a sailor. At all events, I ventured to add if we had encountered
some little risk, we had been amply repaid in seeing
a man so celebrated, and of whom we had all heard and
read. Our comrade being relieved by an American sailor in
the care of the boat, we accepted the General’s offer of refreshment,
proceeded to the cabin, and passed a most agreeable
hour. The fast approach of evening and appearances
of a breeze springing up induced us to take leave. We separated
from the old chief, not as the acquaintance of an hour,
[Pg 16]
but with all the warmth—the grasp and pressure of hand—of
old friends. As I parted from him at the gangway, he mentioned
having caused a case of claret to be lowered into our
boat, which he begged us to present to our Colonel and the
other officers of our mess. We pulled cheerily back, but it
was not until long after dark that we reached the ‘Vibelia,’
and which we perhaps could not have accomplished, but for
their having exhibited blue lights every few minutes to point
out her position. We found our comrades had been in great
alarm for our safety. Various had been the surmises. That
we had boarded a pirate, and been sacrificed, or made prisoners,
was most prevalent, and a breeze was anxiously prayed
for, that they might bear down, and release or revenge us.
Half an hour after we returned to our ship, a light wind sprang
up, which very shortly freshened into a gale, so that in the
morning we had completely lost sight of the ‘Cadmus.’

ACCOUNT OF THE LOSS OF HIS MAJESTY’S
SHIP PHŒNIX.

The Phœnix of 44 guns, Capt. Sir Hyde Parker was lost
in a hurricane, off Cuba, in the West Indies, in the year
1780. The same hurricane destroyed the Thunderer, 74;
Stirling Castle, 64; La Blanche, 42; Laurel, 28; Andromeda,
28; Deas Castle, 24; Scarborough, 20; Beaver’s
Prize, 16; Barbadoes, 14; Cameleon, 14; Endeavour, 14;
and Victor, 10 guns. Lieut. Archer was first-lieutenant of
the Phœnix at the time she was lost. His narrative in a letter
to his mother, contains a most correct and animated account
of one of the most awful events in the service. It is so simple
and natural as to make the reader feel himself as on board the
[Pg 17]
Phœnix. Every circumstance is detailed with feeling, and
powerful appeals are continually made to the heart. It must
likewise afford considerable pleasure to observe the devout
spirit of a seaman frequently bursting forth, and imparting
sublimity to the relation.

At Sea, June 30, 1781.

My dear Mother,

I am now going to give you an account of our last cruise in
the Phœnix; and must premise, that should any one see it besides
yourself, they must put this construction on it—that it
was originally intended for the eyes of a mother, and a mother
only—as, upon that supposition, my feelings may be tolerated.
You will also meet with a number of sea-terms, which, if you
don’t understand, why, I cannot help you, as I am unable to
give a sea description in any other words.

To begin then:—On the 2d of August, 1780, we weighed
and sailed for Port Royal, bound for Pensacola, having two
store-ships under convoy, and to see safe in; then cruise off
the Havana, and in the gulf of Mexico, for six weeks. In a
few days we made the two sandy islands, that look as if they
had just risen out of the sea, or fallen from the sky; inhabited,
nevertheless, by upwards of three hundred English, who
get their bread by catching turtle and parrots, and raising
vegetables, which they exchange with ships that pass, for
clothing and a few of the luxuries of life, as rum, &c.

About the 12th we arrived at Pensacola, without any thing
remarkable happening except our catching a vast quantity of
fish, sharks, dolphins, and bonettos. On the 13th sailed
singly, and on the 14th had a very heavy gale of wind at north,
right off the land, so that we soon left the sweet place, Pensacola,
at a distance astern. We then looked into the Havana,
saw a number of ships there, and knowing that some of them
were bound round the bay, we cruised in the track: a fortnight,
however, passed, and not a single ship hove in sight to
cheer our spirits. We then took a turn or two round the
gulf, but not near enough to be seen from the shore. Vera
Cruz we expected would have made us happy, but the same
luck still continued; day followed day, and no sail. The dollar
bag began to grow a little bulky, for every one had lost
two or three times, and no one had won: this was a small
gambling party entered into by Sir Hyde and ourselves;
every one put a dollar into a bag, and fixed on a day when we
[Pg 18]
should see a sail, but no two persons were to name the same
day, and whoever guessed right first was to have the bag.

Being now tired of our situation, and glad the cruise was
almost out, for we found the navigation very dangerous, owing
to unaccountable currents; we shaped our course for Cape
Antonio. The next day the man at the mast head, at about
one o’clock in the afternoon, called out: “A sail upon the
weather bow! Ha! Ha! Mr. Spaniard, I think we have you
at last. Turn out all hands! make sail! All hands give
chase!” There was scarcely any occasion for this order, for
the sound of a sail being in sight flew like wild fire through the
ship and every sail was set in an instant almost before the orders
were given. A lieutenant at the mast head, with a spy glass,
“What is she?” “A large ship studding athwart right before
the wind. P-o-r-t! Keep her away! set the studding
sails ready!” Up comes the little doctor, rubbing his hands;
“Ha! ha! I have won the bag.” “The devil take you and
the bag; look, what ’s ahead will fill all our bags.” Mast
head again: “Two more sail on the larboard beam!”
“Archer, go up, and see what you can make of them.”
“Upon deck there; I see a whole fleet of twenty sail coming
right before the wind.” “Confound the luck of it, this is
some convoy or other, but we must try if we can pick some of
them out.” “Haul down the studding-sails! Luff! bring
her to the wind! Let us see what we can make of them.”

About five we got pretty near them, and found them to be
twenty-six sail of Spanish merchantmen, under convoy of
three line of battle ships, one of which chased us; but when
she found we were playing with her (for the old Phœnix had
heels) she left chase, and joined the convoy; which they drew
up into a lump, and placed themselves at the outside; but we
still kept smelling about till after dark. O, for the Hector,
the Albion, and a frigate, and we should take the whole fleet
and convoy, worth some millions! About eight o’clock perceived
three sail at some distance from the fleet; dashed in
between them, and gave chase, and were happy to find they
steered from the fleet. About twelve came up with a large
ship of twenty-six guns. “Archer, every man to his quarters!
run the lower deck guns out, and light the ship up; show this
fellow our force; it may prevent his firing into us and killing
a man or two.” No sooner said than done. “Hoa, the ship
ahoy, lower all your sails down, and bring to instantly, or I’ll
sink you.” Clatter, clatter, went the blocks, and away flew
all their sails in proper confusion. “What ship is that?”
[Pg 19]
“The Polly.” “Whence came you?” “From Jamaica.”
“Where are you bound?” “To New York.” “What ship
is that?” “The Phœnix.” Huzza, three times by the whole
ship’s company. An old grum fellow of a sailor standing
close by me: “O, d—m your three cheers, we took you to
be something else.” Upon examination we found it to be as
he reported, and that they had fallen in with the Spanish fleet
that morning, and were chased the whole day, and that nothing
saved them but our stepping in between; for the Spaniards
took us for three consorts, and the Polly took the Phœnix for
a Spanish frigate, till we hailed them. The other vessel in
company was likewise bound to New York. Thus was I,
from being worth thousands in idea, reduced to the old 4s. 6d.
a day again: for the little doctor made the most prize money
of us all that day, by winning the bag, which contained between
thirty and forty dollars; but this is nothing to what we
sailors sometimes undergo.

After parting company, we steered south-south-east, to go
round Antonio, and so to Jamaica, (our cruise being out) with
our fingers in our mouths, and all of us as green as you please.
It happened to be my middle watch, and about three o’clock,
when a man upon the forecastle bawls out: “Breakers ahead,
and land upon the lee-bow;” I looked out, and it was so sure
enough. “Ready about! put the helm down! Helm a lee!”
Sir Hyde hearing me put the ship about, jumped upon deck.
“Archer, what ’s the matter? you are putting the ship about
without my orders!” “Sir, ’tis time to go about! the ship is
almost ashore, there ’s the land.” “Good God so it is! Will
the ship stay?” “Yes, Sir, I believe she will, if we don’t
make any confusion; she’s all aback—forward now?”—“Well,”
says he, “work the ship, I will not speak a single
word.” The ship stayed very well. “Then, heave the lead!
see what water we have!” “Three fathom.” “Keep the
ship away, west-north-west.”—“By the mark three.” “This
won’t do, Archer.” “No, Sir, we had better haul more to the
northward; we came south-south-east, and had better steer
north-north-west.” “Steady, and a quarter three.” “This
may do, as we deepen a little.” “By the deep four.” “Very
well, my lad, heave quick.” “Five Fathom.” “That ’s a
fine fellow! another cast nimbly.” “Quarter less eight.”
“That will do, come, we shall get clear by and by.”—“Mark
under water five.” “What ’s that?” “Only five
fathom, Sir.” “Turn all hands up, bring the ship to an
anchor, boy!” “Are the anchors clear!” “In a moment,
Sir.” “All clear!” “What water have you in the chains
[Pg 20]
now!” “Eight, half nine.” “Keep fast the anchors till I
call you.” “Ay, ay, Sir, all fast!” “I have no ground with
this line.” “How many fathoms have you out? pass along
the deep-sea line!” “Ay, ay, Sir.” “Come are you all
ready?” “All ready, Sir.” “Heave away, watch! watch!
bear away, veer away, no ground Sir, with a hundred fathom.”
“That ’s clever, come, Madam Phœnix, there is another
squeak in you yet—all down but the watch; secure the
anchors again; heave the main-top-sail to the mast; luff, and
bring her to the wind!”

I told you, Madam, you should have a little sea-jargon: if
you can understand half of what is already said, I wonder at
it, though it is nothing to what is to come yet, when the old
hurricane begins. As soon as the ship was a little to rights,
and all quiet again, Sir Hyde came to me in the most friendly
manner, the tears almost starting from his eyes—“Archer, we
ought all, to be much obliged to you for the safety of the ship,
and perhaps of ourselves. I am particularly so; nothing but
that instantaneous presence of mind and calmness saved her;
another ship’s length and we should have been fast on shore;
had you been the least diffident, or made the least confusion,
so as to make the ship baulk in her stays, she must have been
inevitably lost.” “Sir, you are very good, but I have done
nothing that I suppose any body else would not have done, in
the same situation. I did not turn all the hands up, knowing
the watch able to work the ship; besides, had it spread immediately
about the ship, that she was almost ashore, it might
have created a confusion that was better avoided.” “Well,”
says he, “’t is well indeed.”

At daylight we found that the current had set us between
the Collarado rocks and Cape Antonio, and that we could not
have got out any other way than we did; there was a chance,
but Providence is the best pilot. We had sunset that day
twenty leagues to the south-east of our reckoning by the
current.

After getting clear of this scrape, we thought ourselves fortunate,
and made sail for Jamaica, but misfortune seemed to
follow misfortune. The next night, my watch upon deck too,
we were overtaken by a squall, like a hurricane while it lasted;
for though I saw it coming, and prepared for it, yet,
when it took the ship, it roared, and laid her down so, that I
thought she would never get up again. However, by keeping
her away, and clewing up every thing, she righted. The remainder
of the night we had very heavy squalls, and in the
[Pg 21]
morning found the mainmast sprung half the way through: one
hundred and twenty-three leagues to the leeward of Jamaica,
the hurricane months coming on, the head of the mainmast almost
off, and at short allowance; well, we must make the best
of it. The mainmast was well fished, but we were obliged to
be very tender of carrying sail.

Nothing remarkable happened for ten days afterwards, when
we chased a Yankee man of war for six hours, but could not
get near enough to her before it was dark, to keep sight of
her; so that we lost her because unable to carry any sail on
the mainmast. In about twelve days more made the island of
Jamaica, having weathered all the squalls, and put into Montego
Bay for water; so that we had a strong party for kicking
up a dust on shore, having found three men of war lying there.
Dancing, &c. &c. till two o’clock every morning; little thinking
what was to happen in four days’ time: for out of the four
men of war that were there, not one was in being at the end
of that time, and not a soul alive but those left of our crew.
Many of the houses, where we had been so merry, were so completely
destroyed, that scarcely a vestige remained to mark
where they stood. Thy works are wonderful, O God! praised
be thy holy Name!

September the 30th weighed; bound for Port Royal, round
the eastward of the island; the Bardadoes and Victor had
sailed the day before, and the Scarborough was to sail the
next. Moderate weather until October the 2d. Spoke to the
Barbadoes off Port Antonio in the evening. At eleven at
night it began to snuffle, with a monstrous heavy appearance
from the eastward. Close reefed the top-sails. Sir Hyde
sent for me: “What sort of weather have we, Archer!”
“It blows a little, and has a very ugly look: if in any other
quarter but this, I should say we were going to have a gale of
wind.” “Ay, it looks so very often here when there is no
wind at all; however, don’t hoist the top-sails till it clears a
little, there is no trusting any country.” At twelve I was relieved;
the weather had the same rough look: however, they
made sail upon her, but had a very dirty night. At eight in
the morning I came up again, found it blowing hard from the
east-north-east, with close-reefed top-sails upon the ship,
and heavy squalls at times. Sir Hyde came upon deck:
“Well, Archer, what do you think of it?” “O, Sir, ’t is
only a touch of the times, we shall have an observation at
twelve o’clock; the clouds are beginning to break; it will
clear up at noon, or else—blow very hard afterwards.” “I
[Pg 22]
wish it would clear up, but I doubt it much. I was once in a
hurricane in the East Indies, and the beginning of it had much
the same appearance as this. So take in the top-sails, we
have plenty of sea-room.”

At twelve, the gale still increasing, wore ship, to keep as
near mid-channel between Jamaica and Cuba, as possible;
at one the gale increasing still; at two, harder yet, it still
blows harder! Reefed the courses, and furled them; brought
to under a foul mizen stay-sail, head to the northward. In the
evening no sign of the weather taking off, but every appearance
of the storm increasing, prepared for a proper gale of
wind; secured all the sails with spare gaskets; good rolling
tackles upon the yards; squared the booms; saw the boats
all made fast; new lashed the guns; double breeched the
lower deckers; saw that the carpenters had the tarpawlings
and battens all ready for hatchways; got the top-gallant-mast
down upon the deck; jib-boom and sprit-sail-yard fore and
aft; in fact every thing we could think of to make a snug
ship.

The poor devils of birds now began to find the uproar in the
elements, for numbers, both of sea and land kinds, came on
board of us. I took notice of some, which happening to be to
leeward, turned to windward, like a ship, tack and tack; for
they could not fly against it. When they came over the ship
they dashed themselves down upon the deck, without attempting
to stir till picked up, and when let go again, they would
not leave the ship, but endeavoured to hide themselves from
the wind.

At eight o’clock a hurricane; the sea roaring, but the wind
still steady to a point; did not ship a spoonful of water.
However, got the hatchways all secured, expecting what would
be the consequence, should the wind shift; placed the carpenters
by the mainmast, with broad axes, knowing, from experience,
that at the moment you may want to cut it away to
save the ship, an axe may not be found. Went to supper:
bread, cheese, and porter. The purser frightened out of his
wits about his bread bags; the two marine officers as white as
sheets, not understanding the ship’s working so much, and the
noise of the lower deck guns; which, by this time, made a
pretty screeching to people not used to it; it seemed as if the
whole ship’s side was going at each roll. Wooden, our carpenter,
was all this time smoking his pipe and laughing at the
doctor; the second lieutenant upon deck, and the third in his
hammock.

[Pg 23]
At ten o’clock I thought to get a little sleep; came to look
into my cot; it was full of water; for every seam, by the
straining of the ship, had began to leak. Stretched myself,
therefore, upon deck between two chests, and left orders to be
called, should the least thing happen. At twelve a midshipman
came to me: “Mr. Archer, we are just going to wear
ship, Sir!” “O, very well, I’ll be up directly, what sort of
weather have you got?” “It blows a hurricane.” Went
upon deck, found Sir Hyde there. “It blows damned hard
Archer.” “It does indeed, Sir.” “I don’t know that I
ever remember its blowing so hard before, but the ship makes
a good weather of it upon this tack as she bows the sea; but
we must wear her, as the wind has shifted to the south-east,
and we were drawing right upon Cuba; so do you go forward,
and have some hands stand by; loose the lee yard-arm
of the fore-sail, and when she is right before the wind, whip
the clue-garnet close up, and roll up the sail.” “Sir! there
is no canvass can stand against this a moment; if we attempt
to loose him he will fly into ribands in an instant, and we may
lose three or four of our people; she’ll wear by manning the
fore shrouds.” “No, I don’t think she will.” “I’ll answer
for it, Sir; I have seen it tried several times on the coast of
America with success.” “Well, try it; if she does not wear,
we can only loose the fore-sail afterwards.” This was a
great condescension from such a man as Sir Hyde. However,
by sending about two hundred people into the fore-rigging,
after a hard struggle, she wore; found she did not make
so good weather on this tack as on the other; for as the sea
began to run across, she had not time to rise from one sea before
another lashed against her. Began to think we should
lose our masts, as the ship lay very much along, by the pressure
of the wind constantly upon the yards and masts alone:
for the poor mizen-stay-sail had gone in shreds long before,
and the sails began to fly from the yards through the gaskets
into coach whips. My God! to think that the wind could
have such force!

Sir Hyde now sent me to see what was the matter between
decks, as there was a good deal of noise. As soon as I was
below, one of the Marine officers calls out: “Good God
Mr. Archer, we are sinking, the water is up to the bottom of my
cot.” “Pooh, pooh! as long as it is not over your mouth,
you are well off; what the devil do you make this noise for?”
I found there was some water between decks, but nothing to be
alarmed at; scuttled the deck, and let it run into the
[Pg 24]
well—found she made a good deal of water through the sides and
decks; turned the watch below to the pumps, though only two
feet of water in the well; but expected to be kept constantly
at work now, as the ship labored much, with scarcely a part
of her above water but the quarter-deck, and that but seldom
“Come, pump away, my boys. Carpenters, get the weather
chain-pump rigged.” “All ready, Sir.” “Then man it
and keep both pumps going.”

At two o’clock the chain-pump was choked; set the carpenters
at work to clear it; the two head pumps at work upon
deck; the ship gained on us while our chain-pumps were idle;
in a quarter of an hour they were at work again, and we began to
gain upon her. While I was standing at the pumps, cheering
the people, the carpenter’s mate came running to me with a
face as long as my arm: “O, Sir! the ship has sprang a leak
in the gunner’s room.” “Go, then, and tell the carpenter to
come to me, but don’t speak a word to any one else.” “Mr.
Goodinoh, I am told there is a leak in the gunner’s room; go
and see what is the matter, but don’t alarm any body, and come
and make your report privately to me.” In a short time he returned:
“Sir, there ’s nothing there, ’tis only the water washing
up between the timbers that this booby has taken for a
leak.” “O, very well; go upon deck and see if you can
keep any of the water from washing down below.” “Sir, I
have had four people constantly keeping the hatchways secure,
but there is such a weight of water upon the deck that nobody
can stand it when the ship rolls.” The gunner soon afterwards
came to me: “Mr. Archer, I should be glad if you
would step this way into the magazine for a moment:” I
thought some damned thing was the matter, and ran directly:
“Well, what is the matter here?” “The ground-tier of powder
is spoiled, and I want to show you that it is not out of
carelessness in stowing it, for no powder in the world could
be better stowed. Now, Sir, what am I to do? if you don’t
speak to Sir Hyde, he will be angry with me.” I could not
forbear smiling to see how easy he took the danger of the ship,
and said to him: “Let us shake off this gale of wind first,
and talk of the damaged powder afterwards.”

At four we had gained upon the ship a little, and I went
upon deck, it being my watch. The second lieutenant relieved
me at the pumps. Who can attempt to describe the appearance
of things upon deck? If I was to write for ever I
could not give you an idea of it—a total darkness all above,
the sea on fire, running as it were in Alps, or Peaks of
[Pg 25]
Teneriffe; (mountains are too common an idea); the wind roaring
louder than thunder, (absolutely no flight of imagination),
the whole made more terrible, if possible, by a very uncommon
kind of blue lightning; the poor ship very much pressed,
yet doing what she could, shaking her sides, and groaning at
every stroke. Sir Hyde upon deck lashed to windward! I
soon lashed myself alongside of him, and told him the situation
of things below, saying the ship did not make more water
than might be expected in such weather, and that I was only
afraid of a gun breaking loose. “I am not in the least afraid
of that; I have commanded her six years, and have had many
a gale of wind in her; so that her iron work, which always
gives way first, is pretty well tried. Hold fast! that was an
ugly sea; we must lower the yards, I believe, Archer; the
ship is much pressed.” “If we attempt it, Sir, we shall lose
them, for a man aloft can do nothing; besides their being
down would ease the ship very little; the mainmast is a
sprung mast; I wish it was overboard without carrying any
thing else along with it; but that can soon be done, the gale
cannot last for ever; ’twill soon be daylight now.” Found
by the master’s watch that it was five o’clock, though but a
little after four by ours; glad it was so near daylight, and
looked for it with much anxiety. Cuba, thou art much in our
way! Another ugly sea: sent a midshipman to bring news
from the pumps: the ship was gaining on them very much, for
they had broken one of their chains, but it was almost mended
again. News from the pump again. “She still gains! a
heavy lee!” Back-water from leeward, half-way up the
quarter-deck; filled one of the cutters upon the booms, and
tore her all to pieces; the ship lying almost on her beam
ends, and not attempting to right again. Word from below
that the ship still gained on them, as they could not stand to
the pumps, she lay so much along. I said to Sir Hyde:
“This is no time, Sir, to think of saving the masts, shall we
cut the mainmast away?” “Ay! as fast as you can.” I
accordingly went into the weather chains with a pole-axe, to
cut away the lanyards; the boatswain went to leeward, and the
carpenters stood by the mast. We were all ready, when a very
violent sea broke right on board of us, carried every thing
upon deck away, filled the ship with water, the main and mizen
masts went, the ship righted, but was in the last struggle
of sinking under us.

As soon as we could shake our heads above water, Sir
Hyde exclaimed: “We are gone, at last, Archer! foundered
[Pg 26]
at sea!” “Yes, Sir, farewell, and the Lord have mercy
upon us!” I then turned about to look forward at the ship;
and thought she was struggling to get rid of some of the water;
but all in vain, she was almost full below “Almighty God! I
thank thee, that now I am leaving this world, which I have
always considered as only a passage to a better, I die with a
full hope of the mercies, through the merits of Jesus Christ,
thy son, our Saviour!”

I then felt sorry that I could swim, as by that means I might
be a quarter of an hour longer dying than a man who could
not, and it is impossible to divest ourselves of a wish to preserve
life. At the end of these reflections I thought I heard
the ship thump and grinding under our feet; it was so. “Sir,
the ship is ashore!” “What do you say?” “The ship is
ashore, and we may save ourselves yet!” By this time the
quarter-deck was full of men who had come up from below; and
‘the Lord have mercy upon us,’ flying about from all quarters.
The ship now made every body sensible that she was ashore,
for every stroke threatened a total dissolution of her whole
frame; found she was stern ashore, and the bow broke the
sea a good deal, though it was washing clean over at every
stroke. Sir Hyde cried out: “Keep to the quarter-deck, my
lads, when she goes to pieces, ’t is your best chance!” Providentially
got the foremast cut away, that she might not pay
round broad-side. Lost five men cutting away the foremast,
by the breaking of a sea on board just as the mast went.
That was nothing; every one expected it would be his own
fate next; looked for daybreak with the greatest impatience.
At last it came; but what a scene did it show us! The ship
upon a bed of rocks, mountains of them on one side, and Cordilleras
of water on the other; our poor ship grinding and crying
out at every stroke between them; going away by piecemeal.
However, to show the unaccountable workings of Providence,
that which often appears to be the greatest evil,
proved to be the greatest good! That unmerciful sea lifted
and beat us up so high among the rocks, that at last the ship
scarcely moved. She was very strong, and did not go to
pieces at the first thumping, though her decks tumbled in.
We found afterwards that she had beat over a ledge of rocks,
almost a quarter of a mile in extent beyond us, where, if she
had struck, every soul of us must have perished.

I now began to think of getting on shore, so stripped off my
coat and shoes for a swim, and looked for a line to carry the
end with me. Luckily could not find one, which gave me
[Pg 27]
time for recollection. “This won’t do for me, to be the first
man out of the ship, and first lieutenant; we may get to England
again, and people may think I paid a great deal of attention
to myself and did not care for any body else. No, that
won’t do; instead of being the first, I’ll see every man, sick
and well, out of her before me.”

I now thought there was no probability of the ship’s soon
going to pieces, therefore had not a thought of instant death:
took a look round with a kind of philosophic eye, to see how
the same situation affected my companions, and was surprised
to find the most swaggering, swearing bullies in fine weather,
now the most pitiful wretches on earth, when death appeared
before them. However, two got safe; by which means,
with a line, we got a hawser on shore, and made fast to the
rocks, upon which many ventured and arrived safe. There
were some sick and wounded on board, who could not avail
themselves of this method; we, therefore, got a spare top-sail-yard
from the chains and placed one end ashore and the other
on the cabin-window, so that most of the sick got ashore this
way.

As I had determined, so I was the last man out of the ship;
this was about ten o’clock. The gale now began to break.
Sir Hyde came to me, and taking me by the hand was so affected
that he was scarcely able to speak “Archer, I am
happy beyond expression, to see you on shore, but look at
our poor Phœnix!” I turned about, but could not say a
single word, being too full: my mind had been too intensely
occupied before; but every thing now rushed upon me at
once, so that I could not contain myself, and I indulged for a
full quarter of an hour in tears.

By twelve it was pretty moderate; got some nails on shore
and made tents; found great quantities of fish driven up by
the sea into the holes of the rocks; knocked up a fire, and
had a most comfortable dinner. In the afternoon made a
stage from the cabin-windows to the rocks, and got out some
provisions and water, lest the ship should go to pieces, in
which case we must all have perished of hunger and thirst;
for we were upon a desolate part of the coast, and under a
rocky mountain, that could not supply us with a single drop
of water.

Slept comfortably this night and the next day, the idea of
death vanishing by degrees, the prospect of being prisoners,
during the war, at the Havana, and walking three hundred
miles to it through the woods, was rather unpleasant.
[Pg 28]
However, to save life for the present, we employed this day in
getting more provisions and water on shore, which was not an
easy matter, on account of decks, guns and rubbish, and ten
feet water that lay over them. In the evening I proposed
to Sir Hyde to repair the remains of the only boat left,
and to venture in her to Jamaica myself; and in case I arrived
safe, to bring vessels to take them all off; a proposal worthy
of consideration. It was, next day, agreed to; therefore
got the cutter on shore, and set the carpenters to work on her;
in two days she was ready, and at four o’clock in the afternoon
I embarked with four volunteers and a fortnight’s provision,
hoisted English colors as we put off from the shore,
and received three cheers from the lads left behind, which we
returned, and set sail with a light heart; having not the least
doubt, that, with God’s assistance, we should come and bring
them all off. Had a very squally night, and a very leaky
boat, so as to keep two buckets constantly bailing. Steered her
myself the whole night by the stars, and in the morning saw
the coast of Jamaica distant twelve leagues. At eight in the
evening arrived at Montego Bay.

I must now begin to leave off, particularly as I have but
half an hour to conclude; else my pretty little short letter
will lose its passage, which I should not like, after being ten
days, at different times, writing it, beating up with the convoy
to the northward, which is a reason that this epistle will
never read well; as I never set down with a proper disposition to
go on with it; but as I knew something of the kind would please
you, I was resolved to finish it; yet it will not bear an overhaul;
so don’t expose your son’s nonsense.

But to proceed—I instantly sent off an express to the admiral,
another to the Porcupine man of war, and went myself
to Martha Bray to get vessels; for all their vessels here,
as well as many of their houses, were gone to Moco. Got
three small vessels, and set out back again to Cuba, where I
arrived the fourth day after leaving my companions. I
thought the ship’s crew would have devoured me on my landing;
they presently whisked me up on their shoulders and carried
me to the tent where Sir Hyde was.

I must omit many little occurrences that happened on shore,
for want of time; but I shall have a number of stories to tell
when I get alongside of you; and the next time I visit you I
shall not be in such a hurry to quit you as I was the last, for
then I hoped my nest would have been pretty well feathered:—But
my tale is forgotten.

[Pg 29]
I found the Porcupine had arrived that day, and the lads
had built a boat almost ready for launching, that would hold
fifty of them, which was intended for another trial, in case I
had foundered. Next day embarked all our people that were
left, amounting to two hundred and fifty; for some had died
of their wounds they received in getting on shore; others of
drinking rum, and others had straggled into the country.—All
our vessels were so full of people, that we could not take
away the few clothes that were saved from the wreck; but
that was a trifle since we had preserved our lives and liberty.
To make short of my story, we all arrived safe at Montego
Bay, and shortly after at Port Royal, in the Janus, which
was sent on purpose for us, and were all honorably acquitted
for the loss of the ship. I was made admiral’s aid-de-camp,
and a little time afterwards sent down to St. Juan’s as captain
of the Resource, to bring what were left of the poor devils to
Blue Fields, on the Musquito shore, and then to Jamaica,
where they arrived after three month’s absence, and without
a prize, though I looked out hard off Porto Bello and Carthagena.
Found in my absence that I had been appointed captain
of the Tobago, where I remain his majesty’s most true
and faithful servant, and my dear mother’s most dutiful son,

——ARCHER

[Pg 30]

AN ACCOUNT OF THE WHALE FISHERY

WITH ANECDOTES OF THE DANGERS ATTENDING IT.

Historians, in general, have given to the Biscayans the
credit of having first practiced the fishery for the Whale; the
English, and afterwards the Dutch are supposed to have followed
in the pursuit. It was prosecuted by the Norwegians
so early as the ninth century, and by the Icelanders about the
eleventh. It was not till the seventeenth century however,
that the whale fishery was engaged in by the maritime nations
of Europe as an important branch of commerce.

The crew of a whale ship usually consists of forty to fifty
men, comprising several classes of officers, such as harpooners,
boat-steerers, line-managers, &c. together with fore-mastmen,
landmen and apprentices. As a stimulus to the crew in
the fishery, every individual, from the master down to the
boys, besides his monthly pay, receives either a gratuity for
every size fish caught during the voyage, or a certain sum for
every ton of oil which the cargo produces. Masters and harpooners
receive a small sum before sailing, in place of monthly
wages; and if they procure no cargo whatever, they
[Pg 31]
receive nothing more for their voyage; but in the event of a
successful fishing, their advantages are considerable.

The crow’s nest is an apparatus placed on the main-top-mast,
or top-gallant-mast head, as a watch tower for the officer
on the lookout. It is closely defended from the wind and
cold, and is furnished with a speaking trumpet, a telescope and
rifle. The most favorable opportunity for prosecuting the fishery
in the Greenland seas, commonly occurs with north, north-west
or west winds. At such times the sea is smooth, and the atmosphere,
though cloudy and dark, is generally free from fog and
snow. The fishers prefer a cloudy to a clear sky; because
in very bright weather, the sea becomes illuminated, and the
shadows of the whale-boats are so deeply impressed in the
water by the beams of the sun that the whales are apt to take
the alarm. Fogs are only so far unfavorable as being liable
to endanger the boats by shutting out the sight of the ship.—A
well constructed whale-boat floats lightly and safely on the
water,—is capable of being rowed with great speed, and readily
turned round,—it is of such capacity that it carries six or seven
men, seven or eight hundred weight of whale-lines, and various
other materials, and yet retains the necessary properties
of safety and speed. Whale-boats being very liable to receive
damage, both from whales and ice, are always carver-built,—a
structure which is easily repaired. The instruments
of general use in the capture of the whale, are the harpoon
and lance. There is, moreover, a kind of harpoon which
is shot from a gun, but being difficult to adjust, it is seldom
used. Each boat is likewise furnished with a “jack” or
flag fastened to a pole, intended to be displayed as a signal
whenever a whale is harpooned. The crew of a whale-ship
are separated in divisions, equal in number to the number of the
boats. Each division, consisting of a harpooner, a boat-steerer,
and a line-manager, together with three or four rowers,
constitutes a “boats crew.”

On fishing stations, when the weather is such as to render
the fishery practicable, the boats are always ready for instant
service. The crow’s nest is generally occupied by one of
the officers, who keeps an anxious watch for the appearance
of a whale. The moment that a fish is seen, he gives notice
to the “watch upon deck,” part of whom leap into a boat, are
lowered down, and push off towards the place. If the fish be
large, a second boat is despatched to the support of the other;
and when the whole of the boats are sent out, the ship is said
to have “a loose fall.” There are several rules observed
[Pg 32]
in approaching a whale to prevent the animal from taking
the alarm. As the whale is dull of hearing, but quick
of sight, the boat-steerer always endeavors to get behind it;
and, in accomplishing this, he is sometimes justified in taking
a circuitous rout. In calm weather, where guns are
not used, the greatest caution is necessary before a whale
can be reached; smooth careful rowing is always requisite,
and sometimes sculling is practiced. It is a primary consideration
with the harpooner, always to place his boat as near
as possible to the spot in which he expects the fish to rise, and
he conceives himself successful in the attempt when the fish
“comes up within a start,” that is, within the distance of
about two hundred yards.

Whenever a whale lies on the surface of the water, unconscious
of the approach of its enemies, the hardy fisher rows
directly upon it; and an instant before the boat touches it,
buries his harpoon in his back. The wounded whale, in the
surprise and agony of the moment, makes a convulsive effort
to escape. Then is the moment of danger. The boat is subjected
to the most violent blows from its head, or its fins, but
particularly from its ponderous tail, which sometimes sweeps
the air with such tremendous fury, that boat and men are exposed
to one common destruction.

The head of the whale is avoided, because it cannot be
penetrated with the harpoon; but any part of the body, between
the head and the tail, will admit of the full length of
the instrument, without danger of obstruction. The moment
that the wounded whale disappears, a flag is displayed; on
sight of which, those on watch in the ship, give the alarm, by
stamping on the deck, accompanied by shouts of “a fall.”—At
the sound of this, the sleeping crew are roused, jump from
their beds, rush upon deck, and crowd into the boats. The
alarm of “a fall,” has a singular effect on the feelings of a
sleeping person, unaccustomed to hearing it. It has often
been mistaken as a cry of distress. A landsman, seeing the
crew, on an occasion of a fall, leap into the boats in their
shirts, imagined that the ship was sinking. He therefore
tried to get into a boat himself, but every one of them being
fully manned, he was refused. After several fruitless endeavors
to gain a place among his comrades, he cried out, in evident
distress, “What shall I do?—Will none of you take me
in?”

The first effort of a “fast-fish,” or whale that has been
struck, is to escape from the boat by sinking under water.
[Pg 33]
After this, it pursues its course downward, or reappears at a
little distance, and swims with great celerity, near the surface
of the water. It sometimes returns instantly to the surface,
and gives evidence of its agony by the most convulsive throes.
The downward course of a whale is, however, the most common.
A whale, struck near the edge of any large sheet of
ice, and passing underneath it, will sometimes run the whole
of the lines out of one boat. The approaching distress of a
boat, for want of line, is indicated by the elevation of an oar,
to which is added a second, a third, or even a fourth, in proportion
to the nature of the exigence. The utmost care and
attention are requisite, on the part of every person in the
boat, when the lines are running out; fatal consequences having
been sometimes produced by the most trifling neglect.—When
the line happens to “run foul,” and cannot be cleared
on the instant, it sometimes draws the boat under water; on
which, if no auxiliary boat, or convenient piece of ice, be at
hand, the crew are plunged into the sea, and are obliged to trust
to their oars or their skill in swimming, for supporting themselves
on the surface.

Captain Scoresby relates an accident of this kind, which
happened on his first voyage to the whale fishery. A thousand
fathoms of line were already out, and the fast-boat was
forcibly pressed against the side of a piece of ice. The harpooner,
in his anxiety to retard the flight of the whale, applied
too many turns of the line round the bollard, which,
getting entangled, drew the boat beneath the ice. Another
boat, providentially was at hand, into which the crew had
just time to escape. The whale, with near two miles length
of line, was, in consequence of the accident, lost, but the
boat was recovered.

The average stay under water of a wounded whale is about
thirty minutes. When it reappears, the assisting boats make
for the place with their utmost speed, and as they reach it,
each harpooner plunges his harpoon into its back, to the
amount of three, four, or more, according to the size of the
whale. It is then actively plied with lances, which are thrust
into its body, aiming at its vitals. The sea to a great extent
around is dyed with its blood, and the noise made by its tail
in its dying struggle, may be heard several miles. In dying,
it turns on its back or on its side; which circumstance is announced
by the capturers with the striking of their flags, accompanied
with three lively huzzas!

[Pg 34]
Whales are sometimes captured, with a single harpoon, in
the space of fifteen minutes. Sometimes they resist forty or
fifty hours, and at times they will break three or four lines at
once, or tear themselves clear off the harpoons, by the violence
of their struggles. Generally the capture of a whale
depends on the activity of the harpooner, the state of the
wind and weather, or the peculiar conduct of the animal itself.
Under the most favourable circumstances, the length
of time does not exceed an hour. The general average may
be stated at two hours. Instances have occurred where
whales have been taken without being struck at all, simply by
entangling themselves in the lines that had been used to destroy
others, and struggling till they were drowned or died of
exhaustion.

The fishery for whales, when conducted at the margin of
those wonderful sheets of ice, called fields, is, when the
weather is fine, and the refuge for ships secure, the most
agreeable, and sometimes the most productive of all other
ways. When the fish can be observed “blowing” in any of
the holes of a field, the men travel over the ice and attack it
with lances to turn it back. As connected with this subject,
Captain Scoresby relates the following circumstance, which
occurred under his own observation.

On the eighth of July, 1813, the ship Esk lay by the edge
of a large sheet of ice, in which there were several thin parts,
and some holes. Here a whale being heard blowing, a harpoon,
with a line fastened to it, was conveyed across the ice,
from a boat on guard, and the harpooner succeeded in striking
the whale, at the distance of three hundred and fifty yards
from the verge. It dragged out ten lines, (2400 yards,) and
was supposed to be seen blowing in different holes in the ice.
After some time it made its appearance on the exterior, and was
again struck, at the moment it was about to go under the second
time. About an hundred yards from the edge, it broke the
ice where it was a foot thick, with its head, and respired
through the opening. It then pushed forward, breaking the
ice as it advanced, in spite of the lances constantly directed
against it. At last it reached a kind of basin in the field,
where it floated on the surface without any incumbrance
from ice. Its back being fairly exposed, the harpoon struck
from the boat on the outside, was observed to be so slightly
entangled, that it was ready to drop out. Some of the officers
lamented this circumstance, and wished that the harpoon
might be better fast; at the same time observing that if it
[Pg 35]
should slip out, either the fish would be lost, or they should
be under the necessity of flensing it where it lay, and of
dragging the blubber over the ice to the ship; a kind and degree
of labor every one was anxious to avoid. No sooner
was the wish expressed, and its importance explained, than a
young and daring sailor stepped forward, and offered to strike
the harpoon deeper. Not at all intimidated by the surprise
manifested on every countenance at such a bold proposal, he
leaped on the back of the living whale, and cut the harpoon
out with his pocket knife. Stimulated by his gallant example,
one of his companions proceeded to his assistance. While
one of them hauled upon the line and held it in his hands, the
other set his shoulder against the end of the harpoon, and
though it was without a stock, contrived to strike it again
into the fish more effectually than at first! The whale was in
motion before they had finished. After they got off its back,
it advanced a considerable distance, breaking the ice all the way,
and survived this novel treatment ten or fifteen minutes. This
daring deed was of essential service. The whale fortunately
sunk spontaneously after it expired; on which it was hauled
out under the ice by the line and secured without farther trouble.
It proved a mighty whale; a very considerable prize.

When engaged in the pursuit of a large whale, it is a necessary
precaution for two boats at all times to proceed in company,
that the one may be able to assist the other, on any
emergency. With this principle in view, two boats from the
Esk were sent out in chase of some large whales, on the 13th
of June 1814. No ice was within sight. The boats had proceeded
some time together, when they separated in pursuit
of two whales, not far distant from each other; when, by a
singular coincidence, the harpooners each struck his fish at
the same moment. They were a mile from the ship. Urgent
signals for assistance were displayed by each boat, and in a
few minutes one of the harpooners was obliged to slip the end
of his line. Fortunately the other fish did not descend so
deep, and the lines in the boat proved adequate for the occasion.
One of the fish being then supposed to be lost, five of
the boats out of seven attended on the fish which yet remained
entangled, and speedily killed it. A short time afterwards,
the other fish supposed to be lost, was descried at a little distance
from the place where it was struck;—three boats proceeded
against it;—it was immediately struck, and in twenty
minutes also killed. Thus were fortunately captured two
whales, both of which had been despaired of. They
[Pg 36]
produced near forty tons of oil, value, at that time £1400. The
lines attached to the last fish were recovered with it.

Before a whale can be flensed, as the operation of taking
off the fat and whalebone is called, some preliminary measures
are requisite. These consist in securing the whale to the
boat, cutting away the attached whale-lines, lashing the fins
together, and towing it to the ship. Some curious circumstances
connected with these operations may be mentioned
here.

In the year 1816, a fish was to all appearance killed by the
crew of the Esk. The fins were partly lashed, and the tail
on the point of being secured, and all the lines excepting one,
were cut away, the fish meanwhile lying as if dead. To
the alarm, however, of the sailors, it revived, began to move,
and pressed forward in a convulsive agitation; soon after it
sunk in the water to some depth, and then died. One line
fortunately remained attached to it, by which it was drawn to
the surface and secured.

A suspension of labor is generally allowed after the whale
has been secured aside of the ship, and before the commencement
of the operation of flensing. An unlucky circumstance
once occurred in an interval of this kind. At that period of the
fishery, (forty or fifty years ago,) when a single stout whale
[Pg 37]
together with the bounty, was found sufficient to remunerate
the owners of a ship for the expenses of the voyage, great
joy was exhibited on the capture of a whale, by the fishers.
They were not only cheered by a dram of spirits, but sometimes
provided with some favorite “mess,” on which to regale
themselves, before they commenced the arduous task of flensing.
At such a period, the crew of an English vessel had
captured their first whale. It was taken to the ship, placed
on the lee-side, and though the wind blew a strong breeze, it
was fastened only by a small rope attached to the fin. In
this state of supposed security, all hands retired to regale
themselves, the captain himself not excepted. The ship being
at a distance from any ice, and the fish believed to be fast,
they made no great haste in their enjoyment. At length, the
specksioneer, or chief harpooner, having spent sufficient time
in indulgence and equipment, with an air of importance and
self-confidence, proceeded on deck, and naturally turned to
look on the whale. To his astonishment it was not to be
seen. In some alarm he looked a-stern, a-head, on the other
side, but his search was useless; the ship drifting fast, had
pressed forcibly upon the whale, the rope broke, the fish
sunk and was lost. The mortification of this event may be
conceived, but the termination of their vexation will not easily
be imagined, when it is known, that no other opportunity
of procuring a whale occurred during the voyage. The ship
returned home clean.

Flensing in a swell is a most difficult and dangerous undertaking;
and when the swell is at all considerable, it is commonly
impracticable. No ropes or blocks are capable of
bearing the jerk of the sea. The harpooners are annoyed by
the surge, and repeatedly drenched in water; and are likewise
subject to be wounded by the breaking of ropes or hooks of
tackles, and even by strokes from each other’s knives. Hence
accidents in this kind of flensing are not uncommon. The
harpooners not unfrequently fall into the whale’s mouth, when
it is exposed by the removal of a surface of blubber; where
they might easily be drowned, but for the prompt assistance
which is always at hand.

One of the laws of the fishery universally adhered to, is,
that whenever a whale is loose, whatever may be the case or
circumstances, it becomes a free prize to the first person who
gets hold of it. Thus, when a whale is killed, and the flensing
is prevented by a storm, it is usually taken in tow; if the
rope by which it is connected with the ship should happen to
[Pg 38]
break, and the people of another ship should seize upon it
while disengaged, it becomes their prize. The following circumstance,
which occurred a good many years ago, has a tendency
to illustrate the existing Greenland laws.

During a storm of wind and snow several ships were beating
to windward, under easy sail, along the edge of a pack.
When the storm abated and the weather cleared, the ships
steered towards the ice. Two of the fleet approached it,
about a mile assunder, abreast of each other, when the
crews of each ship accidentally got sight of a dead fish at a
little distance, within some loose ice. Each ship now made
sail, to endeavor to reach the fish before the other; which fish
being loose, would be a prize to the first who could get possession
of it. Neither ship could out sail the other, but each
contrived to press forward towards the prize. The little advantage
one of them had in distance, the other compensated
with velocity. On each bow of the two ships, was stationed
a principal officer, armed with a harpoon in readiness to discharge.
But it so happened that the ships came in contact
with each other, when within a few yards of the fish, and in
consequence of the shock with which their bows met, they rebounded
to a considerable distance. The officers at the same
moment discharged their harpoons, but all of them fell short
of the fish. A hardy fellow who was second mate of the leeward
ship immediately leaped overboard and with great dexterity
swam to the whale, seized it by the fin, and proclaimed
it his prize. It was, however, so swollen, that he was unable
to climb upon it, but was obliged to remain shivering in the water
until assistance should be sent. His captain elated with
his good luck, forgot, or at least neglected his brave second
mate; and before he thought of sending a boat to release him
from his disagreeable situation, prepared to moor his ship to
an adjoining piece of ice. Meanwhile the other ship tacked,
and the master himself stepped into a boat, pushed off and
rowed deliberately towards the dead fish. Observing the
trembling seaman still in the water holding by the fin, he addressed
him with, “Well my lad, you have got a fine fish
here,”—to which after a natural reply in the affirmative, he
added, “but don’t you find it very cold?”—“Yes,” replied
the shivering sailor, “I’m almost starved. I wish you would
allow me to come into your boat until ours arrives.” This favor
needed no second solicitation; the boat approached the
man and he was assisted into it. The fish being again loose
and out of possession, the captain instantly struck his harpoon
[Pg 39]
into it, hoisted his flag, and claimed his prize! Mortified and
displeased as the other master felt at this trick, for so it certainly
was, he had nevertheless no redress, but was obliged to permit
the fish to be taken on board of his competitor’s ship, and to
content himself with abusing the second mate for want of discretion,
and condemning himself for not having more compassion
on the poor fellow’s feeling, which would have prevented
the disagreeable misadventure.

Those employed in the occupation of killing whales, are,
when actually engaged, exposed to danger from three sources,
viz. from the ice, from the climate, and from the whales themselves.
The ice is a source of danger to the fishers, from
overhanging masses falling upon them,—from the approximation
of large sheets of ice to each other, which are apt to
crush or upset the boats,—from their boats being stove or
sunk by large masses of ice, agitated by a swell,—and from
the boats being enclosed and beset in a pack of ice, and their
crews thus prevented from joining their ships.

On the commencement of a heavy gale of wind, May 11th,
1813, fourteen men put off in a boat from the Volunteer of
Whitby, with the view of setting an anchor in a large piece
of ice, to which it was their intention of mooring the ship.—The
ship approached on a signal being made, the sails were
clewed up, and a rope fixed to the anchor; but the ice shivering
with the violence of the strain when the ship fell astern,
the anchor flew out and the ship went adrift. The sails being
again set, the ship was reached to the eastward (wind at
north,) the distance of about two miles; but in attempting to
wear and return, the ship, instead of performing the evolution,
scudded a considerable distance to the leeward, and was then
reaching out to sea; thus leaving fourteen of her crew to a
fate most dreadful, the fulfilment of which seemed almost inevitable.
The temperature of the air was 15 or 16 of Fahr.
when these poor wretches were left upon a detached piece of
ice, of no considerable magnitude, without food, without shelter
from the inclement storm, deprived of every means of refuge
except in a single boat, which, on account of the number
of men, and the violence of the storm, was incapable of
conveying them to their ship. Death stared them in the face
whichever way they turned, and a division in opinion ensued.
Some were wishful to remain on the ice, but the ice could afford
them no shelter to the piercing wind, and would probably
be broken to pieces by the increasing swell: others were
anxious to attempt to join their ship while she was yet in
[Pg 40]
sight, but the force of the wind, the violence of the sea, the
smallness of the boat in comparison to the number of men to
be conveyed, were objections which would have appeared insurmountable
to any person but men in a state of despair.—Judging,
that by remaining on the ice, death was but retarded
for a few hours, as the extreme cold must eventually benumb
their faculties, and invite a sleep which would overcome
the remains of animation,—they determined on making the
attempt of rowing to their ship. Poor souls, what must have
been their sensations at that moment,—when the spark of
hope yet remaining was so feeble, that a premature death even
to themselves seemed inevitable. They made the daring experiment,
when a few minutes’ trial convinced them, that the
attempt was utterly impracticable. They then with longing
eyes, turned their efforts towards recovering the ice they had
left, but their utmost exertions were unavailing. Every one
now viewed his situation as desperate; and anticipated, as certain,
the fatal event which was to put a period to his life.
How great must have been their delight, and how overpowering
their sensations, when at this most critical juncture a
ship appeared in sight! She was advancing directly towards
them; their voices were extended and their flag displayed.—But
although it was impossible they should be heard, it was
not impossible they should be seen. Their flag was descried
by the people on board the ship, their mutual courses were so
directed as to form the speediest union, and in a few minutes
they found themselves on the deck of the Lively of Whitby,
under circumstances of safety! They received from their
townsmen the warmest congratulations; and while each individual
was forward in contributing his assistance towards the
restoration of their benumbed bodies, each appeared sensible
that their narrow escape from death was highly providential.
The forbearance of God is wonderful. Perhaps these very
men a few hours before, were impiously invoking their own
destruction, or venting imprecations upon their fellow beings!
True it is that the goodness of the Almighty extendeth over
all his works, and that while ‘Mercy is his darling attribute,’—‘Judgment
is his strange work.’

The most extensive source of danger to the whale-fisher,
when actively engaged in his occupation, arises from the object
of his pursuit. Excepting when it has young under its
protection, the whale generally exhibits remarkable timidity
of character. A bird perching on its back alarms it; hence,
the greater part of the accidents which happen in the course
[Pg 41]
of its capture, must be attributed to adventitious circumstances
on the part of the whale, or to mismanagement or foolhardiness
on the part of the fishers.

A harpooner belonging to the Henrietta of Whitby, when
engaged in lancing a whale, into which he had previously
struck a harpoon, incautiously cast a little line under his feet
that he had just hauled into the boat, after it had been drawn
out by the fish. A painful stroke of his lance induced the
whale to dart suddenly downward; his line began to run out
from beneath his feet, and in an instant caught him by a turn
round his body. He had but just time to cry out, “clear
away the line,”—“O dear!” when he was almost cut assunder,
dragged overboard and never seen afterwards. The line
was cut at the moment, but without avail. The fish descended
a considerable depth, and died; from whence it was drawn
to the surface by the lines connected with it, and secured.

While the ship Resolution navigated an open lake of water,
in the 81st degree of north latitude, during a keen frost and
strong north wind, on the 2d of June 1806, a whale appeared,
and a boat put off in pursuit. On its second visit to the
surface of the sea, it was harpooned. A convulsive heave
of the tail, which succeeded the wound, struck the boat at
the stern; and by its reaction, projected the boat-steerer
overboard. As the line in a moment dragged the boat beyond
his reach, the crew threw some of their oars towards him
for his support, one of which he fortunately seized. The ship
and boats being at a considerable distance, and the fast-boat
being rapidly drawn away from him, the harpooner cut the line
with the view of rescuing him from his dangerous situation.
[Pg 42]
But no sooner was this act performed, than to their extreme
mortification they discovered, that in consequence of some
oars being thrown towards their floating comrade, and others
being broken or unshipped by the blow from the fish, one oar
only remained; with which, owing to the force of the wind,
they tried in vain to approach him. A considerable period
elapsed, before any boat from the ship could afford him assistance,
though the men strained every nerve for the purpose.
At length, when they reached him, he was found with his
arms stretched over an oar, almost deprived of sensation.—On
his arrival at the ship, he was in a deplorable condition.
His clothes were frozen like mail, and his hair constituted a
helmet of ice. He was immediately conveyed into the cabin,
his clothes taken off, his limbs and body dried and well rubbed,
and a cordial administered which he drank. A dry shirt
and stockings were then put upon him, and he was laid in the
captain’s bed. After a few hours sleep he awoke, and appeared
considerably restored, but complained of a painful
sensation of cold. He was, therefore, removed to his own
birth, and one of his messmates ordered to lie on each side
of him, whereby the diminished circulation of the blood was
accelerated, and the animal heat restored. The shock on his
constitution, however, was greater than was anticipated.—He
recovered in the course of a few days, so as to be able to
engage in his ordinary pursuits; but many months elapsed
before his countenance exhibited its usual appearance of
health.

The Aimwell of Whitby, while cruising the Greenland seas,
in the year 1810, had boats in chase of whales on the 26th of
May. One of them was harpooned. But instead of sinking
immediately on receiving the wound, as is the most usual
manner of the whale, this individual only dived for a moment,
and rose again beneath the boat, struck it in the most vicious
manner with its fins and tail, stove it, upset it, and then disappeared.
The crew, seven in number, got on the bottom of
the boat; but the unequal action of the lines, which for sometime
remained entangled with the boat, rolled it occasionally
over, and thus plunged the crew repeatedly into the water.—Four
of them, after each immersion, recovered themselves
and clung to the boat; but the other three, one of whom was
the only person acquainted with the art of swimming, were
drowned before assistance could arrive. The four men on
the boat being rescued and conveyed to the ship, the attack
on the whale was continued and two more harpoons struck.—But
[Pg 43]
the whale irritated, instead of being enervated by its
wounds, recommenced its furious conduct. The sea was in a
foam. Its tail and fins wore in awful play; and in a short
time, harpoon after harpoon drew out, the fish was loosened
from its entanglements and escaped.

In the fishery of 1812, the Henrietta of Whitby suffered a
similar loss. A fish which was struck very near the ship, by
a blow of its tail, stove a small hole in the boat’s bow. Every
individual shrinking from the side on which the blow was
impressed, aided the influence of the stroke, and upset the
boat. They all clung to it while it was bottom up; but the
line having got entangled among the thwarts, suddenly drew
the boat under water, and with it part of the crew. Excessive
anxiety among the people in the ship, occasioned delay
in sending assistance, so that when the first boat arrived at
the spot, two survivors only out of six men were found.

During a fresh gale of wind in the season of 1809, one of the
Resolution’s harpooners struck a sucking whale. Its mother
being near, all the other boats were disposed around, with the
hope of entangling it. The old whale pursued a circular
route round its cub, and was followed by the boats; but its
velocity was so considerable, that they were unable to keep
pace with it. Being in the capacity of harpooner on this occasion
myself, I proceeded to the chase, after having carefully
marked the proceedings of the fish. I selected a situation,
in which I conceived the whale would make its appearance,
and was in the act of directing my crew to cease rowing,
when a terrible blow was struck on the boat. The whale I
never saw, but the effect of the blow was too important to be
overlooked. About fifteen square feet of the bottom of the
boat were driven in; it filled, sunk, and upset in a moment.
Assistance was providentially at hand, so that we were all taken
up without injury, after being but a few minutes in the
water. The whale escaped; the boat’s lines fell out and were
lost, but the boat was recovered.

A remarkable instance of the power which the whale possesses
in its tail, was exhibited within my own observation, in
the year 1807. On the 29th of May, a whale was harpooned
by an officer belonging to the Resolution. It descended a
considerable depth; and, on its re-appearance, evinced an uncommon
degree of irritation. It made such a display of its
fins and tail, that few of the crew were hardy enough to approach
it. The captain, (Captain Scoresby’s father,) observing
their timidity, called a boat, and himself struck a second
[Pg 44]
harpoon. Another boat immediately followed, and unfortunately
advanced too far. The tail was again reared into the
air, in a terrific attitude,—the impending blow was evident,—the
harpooner, who was directly underneath, leaped overboard,—and
the next moment the threatened stroke was impressed
on the centre of the boat, which it buried in the water.
Happily no one was injured. The harpooner who leaped
overboard, escaped certain death by the act,—the tail having
struck the very spot on which he stood. The effects of
the blow were astonishing. The keel was broken,—the gunwales,
and every plank, excepting two, were cut through,—and
it was evident that the boat would have been completely
divided, had not the tail struck directly upon a coil of lines.
The boat was rendered useless.

Instances of disasters of this kind, occasioned by blows
from the whale, could be adduced in great numbers,—cases
of boats being destroyed by a single stroke of the tail, are
not unknown,—instances of boats having been stove or upset,
and their crews wholly or in part drowned, are not unfrequent,—and
several cases of whales having made a regular
attack upon every boat which came near them, dashed some
in pieces, and killed or drowned some of the people in them,
have occurred within a few years even under my own observation.

The Dutch ship Gort-Moolen, commanded by Cornelius
Gerard Ouwekaas, with a cargo of seven fish, was anchored
in Greenland in the year 1660. The captain, perceiving a
whale a-head of his ship, beckoned his attendants, and threw
himself into a boat. He was the first to approach the
whale; and was fortunate enough to harpoon it before the arrival
of the second boat, which was on the advance. Jacques
Vienkes, who had the direction of it, joined his captain immediately
afterwards, and prepared to make a second attack
on the fish, when it should remount again to the surface. At
the moment of its ascension, the boat of Vienkes happening
unfortunately to be perpendicularly above it, was so suddenly
and forcibly lifted up by a stroke of the head of the whale,
that it was dashed to pieces before the harpooner could discharge
his weapon.

Vienkes flew along with the pieces of the boat, and fell upon
the back of the animal. This intrepid seaman, who still
retained his weapon in his grasp, harpooned the whale on
which he stood; and by means of the harpoon and the line,
which he never abandoned, he steadied himself firmly upon
[Pg 45]
the fish, notwithstanding his hazardous situation, and regardless
of a considerable wound that he received in his leg in
his fall along with the fragments of the boat. All the efforts
of the other boats to approach the whale, and deliver the harpooner,
were futile. The captain, not seeing any other method
of saving his unfortunate companion, who was in some
way entangled with the line, called to him to cut it with his
knife, and betake himself to swimming. Vienkes, embarrassed
and disconcerted as he was, tried in vain to follow this
counsel. His knife was in the pocket of his drawers; and,
being unable to support himself with one hand, he could not
get it out. The whale, meanwhile, continued advancing along
the surface of the water with great rapidity, but fortunately
never attempted to dive. While his comrades despaired of his
life, the harpoon by which he held, at length disengaged itself
from the body of the whale. Vienkes being thus liberated,
did not fail to take advantage of this circumstance; he cast
himself into the sea, and by swimming, endeavored to regain
the boats which continued the pursuit of the whale. When
his shipmates perceived him struggling with the waves, they
redoubled their exertions. They reached him just as his
strength was exhausted, and had the happiness of rescuing
this adventurous harpooner from his perilous situation.

Captain Lyons of the Raith of Leith, while prosecuting
the whale-fishery on the Labrador coast, in the season of
1802, discovered a large whale at a short distance from the
ship. Four boats were dispatched in pursuit, and two of them
succeeded in approaching it so closely together, that two harpoons
were struck at the same moment. The fish descended
a few fathoms in the direction of another of the boats, which
was on the advance, rose accidentally beneath it, struck it with
its head, and threw the boat, men, and apparatus about fifteen
feet into the air. It was inverted by the stroke, and fell into
the water with its keel upwards. All the people were picked
up alive by the fourth boat, which was just at hand, excepting
one man, who having got entangled in the boat, fell beneath
it, and was unfortunately drowned. The fish was soon afterwards
killed. The engraving on page 30, is illustrative of
this remarkable accident.

In 1822, two boats belonging to the ship Baffin went in pursuit
of a whale. John Carr was harpooner and commander of
one of them. The whale they pursued led them into a vast
shoal of his own species; they were so numerous that their
blowing was incessant, and they believed that they did not see
[Pg 46]
fewer than an hundred. Fearful of alarming them without
striking any, they remained for a while motionless. At last
one rose near Carr’s boat, and he approached, and fatally for
himself, harpooned it. When he struck, the fish was approaching
the boat; and, passing very rapidly, jerked the line
out of its place over the stern, and threw it upon the gunwale.
Its pressure in this unfavorable position so careened
the boat, that the side was pulled under water, and it began to
fill. In this emergency, Carr, who was a brave, active man,
seized the line, and endeavored to relieve the boat by restoring
it to its place; but, by some circumstance which was never
accounted for, a turn of the line flew over his arm, dragged
him overboard in an instant, and drew him under the
water, never more to rise. So sudden was the accident, that
only one man, who was watching him, saw what had happened;
so that when the boat righted, which it immediately did,
though half full of water, the whole crew on looking round
inquired what had become of Carr. It is impossible to imagine
a death more awfully sudden and unexpected. The
[Pg 47]
invisible bullet could not have effected more instantaneous destruction.
The velocity of the whale at its first descent is
from thirteen to fifteen feet per second. Now as this unfortunate
man was adjusting the line at the water’s very edge,
where it must have been perfectly tight, owing to its obstruction
in running out of the boat, the interval between the fastening
the line about him and his disappearance could not have
exceeded the third part of a second of time, for in one second
only he must have been dragged ten or twelve feet deep. Indeed
he had not time for the least exclamation; and the person
who saw his removal, observed that it was so exceeding quick
that though his eye was upon him at the moment, he could
scarcely distinguish his figure as he disappeared.

INSTRUMENTS USED IN THE WHALE FISHERY.

1. A common Harpoon.
2. A Pricker.
3. A sharp Spade, used in cutting up a Whale.
4. A Harpoon which is fired from a gun.
5. A Lance, to kill the Whale after he has been harpooned.

As soon as the crew recovered from their consternation,
they applied themselves to the needful attention which the
lines required. A second harpoon was struck from the accompanying
boat on the raising of the whale to the surface, and
some lances were applied, but this melancholy occurrence had
cast such a damp on all present, that they became timid and
inactive in their subsequent duties. The whale when nearly
exhausted was allowed to remain some minutes unmolested,
till having recovered some degree of energy, it made a violent
effort and tore itself away from both harpoons. The exertions
of the crews thus proved fruitless, and were attended
with serious loss.

Innumerable instances might be adduced of the perils and
disasters to which our whalemen are subject; of their never
tiring fortitude and daring enterprise; but we believe the examples
we have given alone will sufficiently convey a full and
correct idea of the customs and dangers of the whale-fishery.

THE NARWAL, OR SEA-UNICORN,

Is a species of the Whale, and seldom exceeds twenty-two
feet long. Its body is slenderer than that of the whale, and
its fat not in so great abundance. But this great animal is
sufficiently distinguished from all others of the deep, by its
[Pg 48]
tooth or teeth, which stand pointing directly forward from the
upper jaw, and are from nine to ten feet long. In all the variety
of weapons with which nature has armed her various
tribes, there is not one so large or so formidable as this.—This
terrible weapon is generally found single; and some are
of opinion that the animal is furnished with but one by nature;
but there is at present the skull of a Narwal at the Stadthouse
at Amsterdam, with two teeth. The tooth, or, as some
are pleased to call it, the horn of the Narwal, is as straight
as an arrow, about the thickness of the small of a man’s leg,
wreathed as we sometimes see twisted bars of iron; it tapers
to a sharp point; and is whiter, heavier, and harder than ivory.
It is generally seen to spring from the left side of the head
directly forward in a straight line with the body; and its root
enters into the socket above a foot and a half. Notwithstanding
its appointments for combat, this long and pointed tusk,
amazing strength, and matchless celerity, the Narwal is one
of the most harmless and peaceful inhabitants of the ocean.
It is seen constantly and inoffensively sporting among the other
great monsters of the deep, no way attempting to injure
them, but pleased in their company. The Greenlanders call
the Narwal the forerunner of the whale; for wherever it is
seen, the whale is shortly after sure to follow. This may
arise as well from the natural passion for society in these animals,
as from both living upon the same food. These powerful
fishes make war upon no other living creature; and, though
furnished with instruments to spread general destruction, are
as innocent and as peaceful as a drove of oxen. The Narwal
is much swifter than the whale, and would never be taken by
the fishermen but for those very tusks, which at first appear
to be its principal defence. These animals are always seen
in herds of several at a time; and whenever they are attacked
they crowd together in such a manner, that they are mutually
embarrassed by their tusks. By these they are often locked
together, and are prevented from sinking to the bottom. It
seldom happens, therefore, but the fishermen make sure of
one or two of the hindmost, which very well reward their
trouble.

[Pg 49]

LOSS OF THE BRIG TYRREL.

In addition to the many dreadful shipwrecks already narrated,
the following, which is a circumstantial account given by
T. Purnell, chief mate of the brig Tyrrel, Arthur Cochlan,
commander, and the only person among the whole crew who
had the good fortune to escape, claims our particular attention.

On Saturday, June 29th, 1759, they sailed from New York
to Sandy Hook, and there came to an anchor, waiting for the
captain’s coming down with a new boat, and some other articles.
Accordingly he came on board early the succeeding
morning, and the boat cleared, hoisted in, stowed and lashed.
At eight o’clock, A. M. they weighed anchor, sailed out of
Sandy Hook, and the same day at noon, took their departure
from the High Land Never Sunk, and proceeded on their
passage to Antigua. As soon as they made sail, the captain
ordered the boat to be cast loose, in order that she might be
painted, with the oars, rudder and tiller, which job, he (Captain
Cochlan) undertook to do himself.

At four P. M. they found the vessel made a little more water,
than usual; but as it did not cause much additional labour
at the pump, nothing was thought of it. At eight, the
leak did not seem to increase. At twelve it began to blow
very hard in squalls, which caused the vessel to lie down very
much, whereby it was apprehended she wanted more ballast.
Thereupon the captain came on deck, being the starboard
watch, and close reefed both top-sails.

At four A. M. the weather moderated—let out both reefs:—at
eight it became still more moderate, and they made more
sail, and set top-gallant-sails; the weather was still thick and
hazy. There was no further observation taken at present,
except that the vessel made more water. The captain was
now chiefly employed in painting the boat, oars, rudder and
tiller.

On Monday, June 30, at four P. M. the wind was at E. N. E.
freshened very much, and blew so very hard, as occasioned
the brig to lie along in such a manner as caused general
[Pg 50]
alarm. The captain was now earnestly intreated to put for
New York, or steer for the Capes of Virginia. At eight,
took in top-gallant-sail, and close reefed both top-sails, still
making more water. Afterwards the weather became still
more moderate and fair, and they made more sail.

July 1, at four A. M. it began to blow in squalls very hard,
took in one reef in each top-sail, and continued so until eight
A. M. the weather being still thick and hazy.—No observation.

The next day she made still more water, but as every
watch pumped it out, this was little regarded. At four P. M.
took second reef in each top-sail,—close reefed both, and
sent down top-gallant-yard; the gale still increasing.

At four A. M. the wind got round to N. and there was no
appearance of its abating. At eight, the captain well satisfied
that she was very crank and ought to have had more ballast,
agreed to make for Bacon Island Road, in North Carolina;
and in the very act of wearing her, a sudden gust of wind
laid her down on her beam-end, and she never rose again!—At
this time Mr. Purnell was lying in the cabin, with his
clothes on, not having pulled them off since they left land.—Having
been rolled out of his bed (on his chest,) with great
difficulty he reached the round-house door; the first salutation
he met with was from the step-ladder that went from the
quarter-deck to the poop, which knocked him against the
companion, (a lucky circumstance for those below, as, by laying
the ladder against the companion, it served both him and
the rest of the people who were in the steerage, as a conveyance
to windward); having transported the two after guns
forward to bring her more by the head, in order to make her
hold a better wind; thus they got through the aftermost gun-port
on the quarter-deck, and being all on her broadside, every
moveable rolled to leeward, and as the vessel overset,
so did the boat, and turned bottom upwards, her lashings being
cast loose, by order of the captain, and having no other
prospect of saving their lives but by the boat, Purnell, with
two others, and the cabin-boy (who were excellent swimmers)
plunged into the water, and with difficulty righted her, when
she was brim full, and washing with the water’s edge. They
then made fast the end of the main-sheet to the ring in her
stern-post, and those who were in the fore-chains sent down
the end of the boom-tackle, to which they made fast the boat’s
painter, and by which they lifted her a little out of the water,
so that she swam about two or three inches free, but almost
full.

[Pg 51]
They then put the cabin-boy into her, and gave him a bucket
that happened to float by, and he bailed away as quick as he
could, and soon after another person got in with another
bucket, and in a short time got all the water out of her.—They
then put two long oars that were stowed in the larboard-quarter
of the Tyrrel into the boat, and pulled or rowed right
to windward; for, as the wreck drifted, she made a dreadful
appearance in the water, and Mr. Purnell and two of the
people put off from the wreck, in search of the oars, rudder
and tiller. After a long while they succeeded in picking
them all up, one after another. They then returned to their
wretched companions, who were all overjoyed to see them,
having given them up for lost. By this time night drew on
very fast. While they were rowing in the boat, some small
quantity of white biscuit (Mr. Purnell supposed about half a
peck,) floated in a small cask, out of the round house; but
before it came to hand, it was so soaked with salt water, that
it was almost in a fluid state: and about double the quantity
of common ship-biscuit likewise floated, which was in like
manner soaked. This was all the provision that they had; not
a drop of fresh water could they get; neither could the carpenter
get at any of his tools to scuttle her sides, for, could
this have been accomplished, they might have saved plenty of
provisions and water.

By this time it was almost dark; having got one compass, it
was determined to quit the wreck, and take their chance in
the boat, which was nineteen feet six inches long, and six feet
four inches broad; Mr. Purnell supposes it was now about
nine o’clock; it was very dark.

They had run abut 360 miles by their dead reckoning, on a
S. E. by E. course. The number in the boat was 17 in all;
the boat was very deep, and little hopes were entertained of
either seeing land or surviving long. The wind got round to
westward, which was the course they wanted to steer; but it
began to blow and rain so very hard, that they were obliged
to keep before the wind and sea, in order to preserve her
above water. Soon after they had put off from the wreck the
boat shipped two heavy seas, one after another, so that they
were obliged to keep her before the wind and sea; for had she
shipped another sea, she certainly would have swamped with
them.

By sunrise the next morning, July 3, they judged that they
had been running E. S. E. which was contrary to their wishes.
The wind dying away, the weather became very moderate.
[Pg 52]
The compass which they had saved proved of no utility,
one of the people having trod upon, and broken it; it was
accordingly thrown overboard. They now proposed to make
a sail of some frocks and trowsers, but they had got neither
needles nor sewing twine, one of the people however, had a
needle in his knife, and another several fishing lines in his
pockets, which were unlaid by some, and others were employed
in ripping the frocks and trowsers. By sunset they had
provided a tolerable lug-sail; having split one of the boat’s
thwarts, (which was of yellow deal,) with a very large knife,
which one of the crew had in his pocket, they made a yard
and lashed it together by the strands of the fore-top-gallant-halyards,
that were thrown into the boat promiscuously.—They
also made a mast of one of the long oars, and set their
sails, with sheets and tacks made out of the top-gallant-halyards.
Their only guide was the North star. They had a
tolerable good breeze all night; and the whole of the next
day, July 4, the weather continued very moderate, and the
people were in as good spirits as their dreadful situation would
admit.

July 5, the wind and weather continued much the same,
and they knew by the North star that they were standing in
for the land. The next day Mr. Purnell observed some of
the men drinking salt water, and seeming rather fatigued.—At
this time they imagined the wind was got round to the
southward, and they steered, as they thought by the North
star, to the northwest quarter; but on the 7th, they found
the wind had got back to the northward, and blew very fresh.
They got their oars out the greatest part of the night, and
the next day the wind still dying away, the people laboured
alternately at the oars, without distinction. About noon the
wind sprung up so that they laid in their oars, and, as they
thought, steered about N. N. W. and continued so until about
eight or nine in the morning of July 9, when they all thought
they were upon soundings, by the coldness of the water.—They
were, in general, in very good spirits. The weather
continued still thick and hazy, and by the North star, they
found that they had been steering about N. by W.

July 10.—The people had drank so much salt water, that it
came from them as clear as it was before they drank it; and
Mr. Purnell perceived that the second mate had lost a considerable
share of his strength and spirits; and also, at noon,
that the carpenter was delirious, his malady increasing every
hour; about dusk he had almost overset the boat, by attempting
[Pg 53]
to throw himself overboard, and otherwise behaving quite
violent.

As his strength, however, failed him, he became more manageable,
and they got him to lie down in the middle of the
boat, among some of the people. Mr. Purnell drank once a
little salt water, but could not relish it; he preferred his own
urine, which he drank occasionally as he made it. Soon after
sunset the second mate lost his speech. Mr. Purnell desired
him to lean his head on him; he died, without a groan or
struggle, on the 11th of July, being the 9th day they were in
the boat. In a few minutes after, the carpenter expired almost
in a similar manner. These melancholy scenes rendered
the situation of the survivors more dreadful; it is impossible
to describe their feelings. Despair became general; every
man imagined his own dissolution was near. They all now
went to prayers; some prayed in the Welch language, some
in Irish, and others in English; then, after a little deliberation,
they stripped the two dead men, and hove them overboard.

The weather being now very mild, and almost calm, they
turned to, cleaned the boat, and resolved to make their sail
larger out of the frocks and trowsers of the two deceased
men. Purnell got the captain to lie down with the rest of the
people, the boatswain and one man excepted, who assisted him
in making the sail larger, which they had completed by six
or seven o’clock in the afternoon, having made a shroud out of
the boat’s painter, which served as a shifting back-stay.—Purnell
also fixed his red flannel waistcoat at the mast-head,
as a signal the most likely to be seen.

Soon after this some of them observed a sloop at a great
distance, coming, as they thought, from the land. This roused
every man’s spirits; they got out their oars, at which they
laboured alternately, exerting all their remaining strength to
come up with her; but night coming on, and the sloop getting
a fresh breeze of wind, they lost sight of her, which occasioned
a general consternation; however, the appearance of the
North star, which they kept on their starboard-bow, gave
them hopes that they stood in for land. This night one William
Wathing died; he was 64 years of age, and had been to
sea 50 years; quite worn out with fatigue and hunger, he
earnestly prayed, to the last moment, for a drop of water
to cool his tongue. Early the next morning Hugh Williams
also died, and in the course of the day another of the crew:
entirely exhausted,—they both expired without a groan.

[Pg 54]
Early in the morning of July 13, it began to blow very
fresh, and increased so much, that they were obliged to furl
their sail, and keep the boat before the wind and sea, which
drove them off soundings. In the evening their gunner died.
The weather now becoming moderate and the wind in the S. W.
quarter, they made sail, not one being able to row or pull
an oar at any rate; they ran all this night with a fine breeze.

The next morning (July 14) two more of the crew died,
and in the evening they also lost the same number. They
found they were on soundings again, and concluded the wind
had got round to the N. W. quarter. They stood in for the
land all this night, and early on July 12 two others died; the
deceased were thrown overboard as soon as their breath had
departed. The weather was now thick and hazy, and they
were still certain that they were on soundings.

The cabin-boy was seldom required to do any thing, and as
his intellects, at this time, were very good, and his understanding
clear, it was the opinion of Mr. Purnell that he
would survive them all, but he prudently kept his thoughts to
himself. The captain seemed likewise tolerably well, and to
have kept up his spirits. On account of the haziness of the
weather, they could not so well know how they steered in the
day time as at night; for, whenever the North star appeared,
they endeavored to keep it on their starboard bow, by which
means they were certain of making the land some time or
other. In the evening two more of the crew died, also, before
sunset, one Thomas Philpot, an old experienced seaman,
and very strong; he departed rather convulsed; having latterly
lost the power of articulation, his meaning could not be
comprehended. He was a native of Belfast, Ireland, and had
no family. The survivors found it a difficult task to heave his
body overboard, as he was a very corpulent man.

About six or seven the next morning, July 16, they stood
in for the land, according to the best of their judgment, the
weather still thick and hazy. Purnell now prevailed upon
the captain and boatswain of the boat to lie down in the fore-part
of the boat, to bring her more by the head, in order to
make her hold a better wind. In the evening the cabin-boy,
who lately appeared so well, breathed his last, leaving behind,
the captain, the boatswain and Mr. Purnell.

The next morning, July 17, Mr. Purnell asked his two
companions if they thought they could eat any of the boy’s
flesh; and having expressed an inclination to try, and the
body being quite cold, he cut the inside of his thigh, a little
[Pg 55]
above his knee, and gave a piece to the captain and boatswain,
reserving a small piece for himself; but so weak were
their stomachs that none of them could swallow a morsel of it,
the body was therefore thrown overboard.

Early in the morning of the 18th, Mr. Purnell found both
of his companions dead and cold! Thus destitute, he began
to think of his own dissolution; though feeble, his understanding
was still clear, and his spirits as good as his forlorn situation
could possibly admit. By the colour and coldness of
the water, he knew he was not far from land, and still maintained
hopes of making it. The weather continued very foggy.
He lay to all this night, which was very dark, with the boat’s
head to the northward.

In the morning of the 19th, it began to rain; it cleared up
in the afternoon, and the wind died away; still Mr. Purnell
was convinced he was on soundings.

On the 20th, in the afternoon, he thought he saw land, and
stood in for it; but night coming on, and it being now very
dark, he lay to, fearing he might get on some rocks and
shoals.

July 21, the weather was very fine all the morning, but in
the afternoon it became thick and hazy. Mr. Purnell’s
spirits still remained good, but his strength was almost exhausted;
he still drank his own water occasionally.

On the 22d he saw some barnacles on the boat’s rudder,
very similar to the spawn of an oyster, which filled him with
greater hopes of being near land. He unshipped the rudder,
and scraping them off with his knife, found they were of a
salt fishy substance, and eat them; he was now so weak, the
boat having a great motion, that he found it a difficult task to
ship the rudder.

At sunrise, July 23, he became so sure that he saw land, that
his spirits were considerably raised. In the middle of this
day he got up, leaned his back against the mast, and received
succour from the sun, having previously contrived to steer the
boat in this position. The next day he saw, at a very great
distance, some kind of a sail, which he judged was coming
from the land, which he soon lost sight of. In the middle of
the day he got up, and received warmth from the sun as before.
He stood on all night for the land.

Very early in the morning of the 25th, after drinking his
morning draught, to his inexpressible joy he saw, while the
sun was rising, a sail, and when the sun was up, found she
was a two-mast vessel. He was, however, considerably
[Pg 56]
perplexed, not knowing what to do, as she was a great distance
astern and to the leeward. In order to watch her motions
better, he tacked about. Soon after this he perceived she
was standing on her starboard tack, which had been the same
he had been standing on for many hours. He saw she approached
him very fast, and he lay to for some time, till he
believed she was within two miles of the boat, but still to leeward;
therefore he thought it best to steer larger, when he
found she was a top-sail schooner, nearing him very fast.—He
continued to edge down towards her, until he had brought
her about two points under his lee-bow, having it in his power
to spring his luff, or bear away. By this time she was within
half a mile, and he saw some of her people standing forwards
on her deck and waiving for him to come under their lee-bow.

At the distance of about 200 yards they hove the schooner
up in the wind, and kept her so until Purnell got alongside,
when they threw him a rope, still keeping the schooner in the
wind. They now interrogated him very closely; by the manner
the boat and oars were painted, they imagined she belonged
to a man of war, and that they had run away with her from
some of his Majesty’s ships at Halifax, consequently that they
would be liable to some punishment if they took him up; they
also thought, as the captain and boatswain were lying dead
in the boat, they might expose themselves to some contagious
disorder. Thus they kept Purnell in suspense for some time.
They told him they had made the land that morning from the
mast-head, and that they were running along shore for Marblehead,
to which place they belonged, and where they expected
to be the next morning. At last they told him he
might come on board; which as he said, he could not without
assistance, the captain ordered two of his men to help him.—They
conducted him aft on the quarter deck, where they left
him resting on the companion.

They were now for casting the boat adrift, but Mr. Purnell
told them she was not above a month old, built at New York,
and if they would hoist her in, it would pay them well for
their trouble. To this they agreed, and having thrown the
two corpses overboard, and taken out the clothes that were
left by the deceased, they hoisted her in and made sail.

Being now on board, Purnell asked for a little water, Captain
Castleman (for that was his name) ordered one of his
sons, (having two on board) to fetch him some; when he
came with the water, his father looked to see how much he
was bringing him, and thinking it too much, threw some of it
[Pg 57]
away, and desired him to give the remainder, which he drank
being the first fresh water he had tasted for 23 days. As he
leaned all this time against the companion, he became very
cold, and begged to go below; the captain ordered two men
to help him down to the cabin, where they left him sitting on
the cabin-deck, leaning upon the lockers, all hands being now
engaged in hoisting in and securing the boat. This done, all
hands went down to the cabin to breakfast, except the man at
the helm. They made some soup for Purnell, which he
thought very good, but at present he could eat very little, and
in consequence of his late draughts, he had broke out in many
parts of his body, so that he was in great pain whenever
he stirred. They made a bed for him out of an old sail, and
behaved very attentive. While they were at breakfast a
squall of wind came on, which called them all upon deck;
during their absence, Purnell took up a stone bottle, and
without smelling or tasting it, but thinking it was rum, took a
hearty draught of it, and found it to be sweet oil; having
placed it where he found it, he lay down.

They still ran along shore with the land in sight, and were
in great hopes of getting into port that night, but the wind dying
away, they did not get in till nine o’clock the next night.
All this time Purnell remained like a child; some one was
always with him, to give him whatever he wished to eat or drink.

As soon as they came to anchor, Captain Castleman went
on shore, and returned on board the next morning with the
owner, John Picket, Esq. Soon after they got Purnell into
a boat, and carried him on shore; but he was still so very feeble,
that he was obliged to be supported by two men. Mr.
Picket took a very genteel lodging for him, and hired a nurse
to attend him; he was immediately put to bed, and afterwards
provided with a change of clothes. In the course of the day
he was visited by every doctor in the town, who all gave him
hopes of recovering, but told him it would be some time, for
the stronger the constitution, the longer (they said) it took to
recover its lost strength. Though treated with the utmost
tenderness and humanity, it was three weeks before he was
able to come down stairs. He stayed in Marblehead two
months, during which he lived very comfortably, and gradually
recovered his strength. The brig’s boat and oars were
sold for 95 dollars, which paid all his expenses, and procured
him a passage to Boston. The nails of his fingers and toes
withered away almost to nothing, and did not begin to grow
for many months after.

[Pg 58]

THE LOSS OF THE PEGGY.

On the 28th of September, 1785, the Peggy, commanded by
Capt. Knight, sailed from the harbor of Waterford, Ireland,
for the port of New York, in America.

Here it is necessary to observe, that the Peggy was a large
unwieldy Dutch-built ship, about eight hundred tons burden,
and had formerly been in the Norway, and timber trade, for
which, indeed, she seemed, from her immense bulk, well calculated.
There being no freight in readiness for America,
we were under the necessity of taking in ballast: which consisted
of coarse gravel and sand, with about fifty casks of
stores, fresh stock, and vegetables, sufficient to last during the
voyage; having plenty of room, and having been most abundantly
supplied by the hospitable neighbourhood, of which we
were about to take our leave.

We weighed anchor, and with the assistance of a rapid tide
and pleasant breeze, soon gained a tolerable offing: we continued
under easy sail the remaining part of the day, and towards
sunset lost sight of land.

Sept. 29th, made the old head of Kingsale; the weather
continuing favorable, we shortly came within sight of Cape
Clear, from whence we took our departure from the coast of
Ireland.

Nothing material occurred for several days, during which
time we traversed a vast space of the Western Ocean.

Oct. 12th, the weather now became hazy and squally;—all
hands turned up to reef top-sails, and strike top-gallant-yards.—Towards
night the squalls were more frequent, indicating
an approaching gale:—We accordingly clued, reefed top-sails,
and struck top-gallant-masts; and having made all snug aloft,
the ship weathered the night very steadily.

On the 13th the crew were employed in setting up the rigging,
and occasionally pumping, the ship having made much
water during the night. The gale increasing as the day advanced,
occasioned the vessel to make heavy rolls, by which
an accident happened, which was near doing much injury to
the captain’s cabin. A puncheon of rum, which was lashed
[Pg 59]
on the larboard side of the cabin, broke loose, a sudden jerk
having drawn assunder the cleats to which it was fastened.
By its velocity it stove in the state-rooms, and broke several
utensils of the cabin furniture. The writer of this, with much
difficulty, escaped with whole limbs; but not altogether unhurt,
receiving a painful bruise on the right foot: having,
however, escaped from the cabin, the people on deck were
given to understand that the rum was broken loose. The
word rum soon attracted the sailor’s attention, and this cask
being the ship’s only stock, they were not tardy (as may be
supposed) in rendering their assistance to double lash, what
they anticipated—the delight, of frequently splicing the mainbrace
therewith during their voyage.

On the 14th the weather became moderate, and the crew
were employed in making good the stowage of the stores in
the hold, which had given way during the night;—shaking
reefs out of the top-sails, getting up top-gallant-masts and
yards, and rigging out studding-sails. All hands being now
called to dinner, a bustle and confused noise took place on
deck. The captain (who was below) sent the writer of this to
discover the cause thereof, but before he could explain, a
voice was crying out in a most piteous and vociferous tone.
The captain and chief mate jumped on deck, and found the
crew had got the cook laid on the windlass, and were giving
him a most severe cobbing with a flat piece of his own fire
wood. As soon as the captain had reached forward, he was
much exasperated with them for their precipitate conduct, in
punishing without his knowledge and permission, and having
prohibited such proceedings in future cases, he inquired the
cause of their grievance. The cook, it seems, having been
served out fresh water to dress vegetables for all hands,
had inadvertently used it for some other purpose, and boiled
the greens in a copper of salt water, which rendered them so
intolerably tough, that they were not fit for use; consequently
the sailors had not their expected garnish, and a general murmur
taking place, the above punishment was inflicted.

A steady breeze ensuing, all sails filled and the ship made
way, with a lofty and majestic air; and at every plunge of
her bows, which was truly Dutch-built, rose a foam of no
small appearance.

During four days the weather continued favorable, which
flattered the seamen with a speedy sight of land.

On the 19th we encountered a very violent gale, with an
unusual heavy sea:—The ship worked greatly, and took in
[Pg 60]
much water through her seams:—the pumps were kept frequently
going. At mid-day, while the crew were at dinner,
a tremendous sea struck the ship right aft, which tore in the
cabin windows, upset the whole of the dinner, and nearly
drowned the captain, mate, and myself, who was at that time
holding a dish on the table, while the captain was busily employed
in carving a fine goose, which, much to our discomfiture,
was entirely drenched by the salt-water. Some of the
coops were washed from the quarter-deck, and several of the
poultry destroyed.

In consequence of the vessel shipping so great a quantity
of water, the pumps were doubly manned, and soon gained on
her. The gale had not in the least abated during the night.
The well was plumbed, and there was found to be a sudden
and alarming increase of water. The carpenter was immediately
ordered to examine the ship below, in order to find the
cause of the vessel’s making so much water. His report was,
she being a very old vessel, her seams had considerably opened
by her laboring so much, therefore, could devise no means
at present to prevent the evil. He also reported, the mizen-mast
to be in great danger.

The heel of the mizen-mast being stepped between decks (a
very unusual case, but probably it was placed there in order
to make more room for stowage in the after-hold) was likely
to work from its step, and thereby might do considerable
damage to the ship.

The captain now held a consultation with the officers, when
it was deemed expedient to cut the mast away without delay:
this was accordingly put into execution the following morning,
as soon as the day made its appearance. The necessary preparations
having been made, the carpenter began hewing at
the mast, and quickly made a deep wound. Some of the crew
were stationed ready to cut away the stays and lanyards,
whilst the remaining part was anxiously watching the momentary
crash which was to ensue; the word being given to cut
away the weather-lanyards, as the ship gave a lee-lurch,
the whole of the wreck of the mast plunged, without further
injury, into the ocean.

The weather still threatening a continuance, our principal
employ was at the pumps, which were kept continually going.
The sea had now rose to an alarming height, and frequently
struck the vessel with great violence. Towards the afternoon
part of the starboard bulwark was carried away by the shock of
a heavy sea, which made the ship broach-to, and before she could
[Pg 61]
answer her helm again, a sea broke through the fore-chains,
and swept away the caboose and all its utensils from the deck;
fortunately for the cook he was assisting at the pumps at the
time, or he inevitably must have shared the same fate as his
galley.

Notwithstanding the exertions of the crew, the water gained
fast, and made its way into the hold, which washed a great
quantity of the ballast through the timber-holes into the hull,
by which the suckers of the pumps were much damaged, and
thereby frequently choaked. By such delays the leaks increased
rapidly. We were under the necessity of repeatedly
hoisting the pumps on deck, to apply different means which
were devised to keep the sand from entering, but all our efforts
proved ineffectual, and the pumps were deemed of no further
utility. There was now no time to be lost; accordingly
it was agreed that the allowance of fresh water should be lessened
to a pint a man; the casks were immediately hoisted from
the hold, and lashed between decks. As the water was started
from two of them, they were sawed in two, and formed into
buckets, there being no other casks on board fit for that purpose;
the whips were soon applied, and the hands began bailing
at the fore and after hatchways which continued without
intermission the whole of the night, each man being suffered
to take one hour’s rest, in rotation.

The morning of the 22d presented to our view a most dreary
aspect,—a dismal horizon encircling—not the least appearance
of the gale abating—on the contrary, it seemed to come
with redoubled vigor—the ballast washing from side to side of
the ship at each roll, and scarce a prospect of freeing her.
Notwithstanding these calamities, the crew did not relax their
efforts. The main-hatchway was opened and fresh buckets
went to work; the captain and mate alternately relieving each
other at the helm. The writer’s station was to supply the
crew with grog, which was plentifully served to them every
two hours. By the motion of the ship the buckets struck
against the combings of the hatchways with great violence,
and in casting them in the hold to fill, they frequently struck
on the floating pieces of timber which were generally used as
chocks in stowing the hold. By such accidents the buckets
were repeatedly stove, and we were under the necessity of
cutting more of the water casks to supply their place. Starting
the fresh water overboard was reluctantly done, particularly
as we now felt the loss of the caboose, and were under
the necessity of eating the meat raw which occasioned us to
[Pg 62]
be very thirsty. Night coming on, the crew were not allowed
to go below to sleep; each man, when it came to his turn,
stretched himself on the deck.

Oct. 23. Notwithstanding the great quantity of water bailed
from the vessel, she gained so considerably that she had visibly
settled much deeper in the water. All hands were now
called aft, in order to consult on the best measures. It was
now unanimously resolved to make for the island of Bermudas,
it being the nearest land. Accordingly we bore away for it,
but had not sailed many leagues before we found that the
great quantity of water in the vessel had impeded her steerage
so much that she would scarcely answer her helm; and
making a very heavy lurch, the ballast shifted, which gave
her a great lift to the starboard, and rendered it very difficult
to keep a firm footing on deck. The anchors which were
stowed on the larboard bow were ordered to be cut away, and
the cables which were on the orlop deck to be hove overboard
in order to right her; but all this had a very trifling effect, for
the ship was now become quite a log.

The crew were still employed in baling; one of whom, in
preventing a bucket from being stove against the combings,
let go his hold, and fell down the hatchway; with great difficulty
he escaped being drowned or dashed against the ship’s
sides. Having got into a bucket which was instantly lowered,
he was providentially hoisted on deck without any injury.

During the night the weather became more moderate, and
on the following morning, (Oct. 25), the gale had entirely
subsided, but left a very heavy swell. Two large whales approached
close to the ship. They sported around the vessel
the whole of the day, and after dusk disappeared.

Having now no further use of the helm, it was lashed down,
and the captain and mate took their spell at the buckets. My
assistance having been also required, a boy of less strength,
whose previous business was to attend the cook, now took my
former station of serving the crew with refreshments. This
lad had not long filled his new situation of drawing out rum
from the cask, before he was tempted to taste it, and which
having repeatedly done he soon became intoxicated, and was
missed on deck for some time. I was sent to look for him.
The spigot I perceived out of the cask, and the liquor running
about, but the boy I could not see for some time; however
looking down the lazeretto (the trap-door of which was
lying open), I found him fast asleep. He had luckily fallen
on some sails which were stowed there, or he must have
perished.

[Pg 63]
On the 26th and 27th of Oct. the weather continued quite
clear, with light baffling winds. A man was constantly kept
aloft to look out for a sail. The rest of the crew were employed
at the whips.

On the 28th the weather began to lower, and appeared inclined
for rain. This gave some uneasiness, being apprehensive
of a gale. The captain therefore directed the carpenter
to overhaul the long-boat, caulk her, and raise a streak
which orders were immediately complied with; but when he
went to his locker for oakum, he found it plundered of nearly
the whole of his stock—all hands were therefore set to picking,
by which means he was soon supplied.

It was totally clear on the 29th, with a fresh breeze, but
the ship heeled so much that her gunwale at times was under
water, and the crew could scarcely stand on deck. All hands
were now ordered to assemble aft, when the captain in a short
address, pointed out the most probable manner by which they
could be saved. All agreed in opinion with him, and it was
resolved that the long-boat should be hoisted out as speedily
as possible, and such necessaries as could be conveniently
stowed, to be placed in her. Determined no longer to labor
at the buckets, the vessel, which could not remain above
water many hours after we had ceased baling, was now abandoned
to her fate.

I now began to reflect on the small chance we had of being
saved—twenty-two people in an open boat—upwards of three
hundred miles from the land—in a boisterous climate, and the
whole crew worn out with fatigue! The palms of the crew’s
hands were already so flayed it could not be expected that they
could do much execution with the oars—while thus reflecting
on our perilous situation, one of our oldest seamen, who at
this moment was standing near me, turned his head aside to
wipe away a tear—I could not refrain from sympathizing with
him—my heart was already full;—the captain perceiving my
despondency bade me be of good cheer, and called me a
young lubber.

The boat having been hoisted out, and such necessaries
placed in her as were deemed requisite, one of the hands was
sent aloft to lash the colors downwards to the main-top-mast
shrouds; which having done, he placed himself on the crosstrees,
to look around him, and almost instantly hallooed out,—“A
sail.”—It would be impossible to describe the ecstatic
emotions of the crew: every man was aloft, in order to be
satisfied; though, a minute before, not one of the crew was
able to stand upright.

[Pg 64]
The sail was on our weather-bow, bearing right down on us
with a smart breeze. She soon perceived us, but hauled her
wind several times, in order to examine our ship. As she approached
nearer she clearly perceived our calamitous situation,
and hastened to our relief.

She proved to be a Philadelphia schooner, bound to Cape
Francois, in St. Domingo. The captain took us all on board
in the most humane and friendly manner, and after casting
our boat adrift, proceeded on his voyage. When we perceived
our ship from the vessel on which we were now happily on
board, her appearance was truly deplorable.

The captain of the schooner congratulated us on our fortunate
escape, and expressed his surprise that the ship should
remain so long on her beam ends, in such a heavy sea, without
capsizing. We soon began to distance the wreck, by this
time very low in the water, and shortly after lost sight of her.

The evening began to approach fast, when a man loosing
the main-top-sail, descried a sail directly in the same course
on our quarter. We made sail for her, and soon came within
hail of her. She proved to be a brig from Glasgow, bound to
Antigua. It was now determined, between the captains, that
half of our people should remain in the schooner, and the captain,
mate, eight of the crew, and myself, should get on board
the brig. On our arrival at Antigua we met with much kindness
and humanity.

LOSS OF HIS MAJESTY’S SHIP LITCHFIELD.

The Litchfield, Captain Barton, left Ireland on the 11th of
November, 1758, in company with several other men of war
and transports, under the command of Commodore Keppel,
intended for the reduction of Goree. The voyage was prosperous
till the 28th, when at eight in the evening I took
charge of the watch, and the weather turned out very squally
with rain. At nine it was extremely dark, with much
[Pg 65]
lightning, the wind varying from S. W. to W. N. W. At
half past nine, had a very hard squall. Captain Barton came
upon deck and staid till ten; then left orders to keep sight
of the commodore, and to make what sail the weather would
permit. At eleven, saw the commodore bearing south, but
the squalls coming on so heavy, were obliged to hand the
main-top-sail, and at twelve o’clock, were under our courses.

November the 29, at one in the morning, I left the deck in
charge of the first lieutenant; the light, which we took to be
the commodore’s right ahead, bearing S. wind W. S. W. blowing
very hard; at six in the morning I was awakened by a
great shock, and a confused noise of the men on deck. I
ran up, thinking some ship had run foul of us, for, by my own
reckoning, and that of every other person in the ship, we
were at least 35 leagues distant from land; but, before I could
reach the quarter-deck, the ship gave a great stroke upon the
ground, and the sea broke all over her. Just after this, I
could perceive the land, rocky, rugged and uneven, about
two cables’ length from us. The ship lying with her broadside
to windward, the masts soon went overboard, carrying some
men with them. It is impossible for any one but a sufferer to
feel our distress at this time; the masts, yards, and sails hanging
alongside in a confused heap; the ship beating violently
upon the rocks; the waves curling up to an incredible
height, then dashing down with such force as if they would
immediately have split the ship to pieces, which we, indeed,
every moment expected. Having a little recovered from our
confusion, saw it necessary to get every thing we could over
to the larboard side, to prevent the ship from heeling off, and
exposing the deck to the sea. Some of the people were very
earnest to get the boats out contrary to advice; and, after much
intreaty, notwithstanding a most terrible sea, one of the boats
was launched, and eight of the best men jumped into her, but
she had scarcely got to the ship’s stern, when she was whirled
to the bottom, and every soul in her perished. The rest
of the boats were soon washed to pieces on the deck.—We
then made a raft of the davit, capstan-bars and some
boards, and waited with resignation, for divine Providence to
assist us.

The ship soon filled with water, so that we had no time to
get any provision up; the quarter-deck and poop were now
the only place we could stand on with security, the waves
being mostly spent by the time they reached us, owing to the
fore part of the ship breaking them.

[Pg 66]
At four in the afternoon, perceiving the sea to be much
abated, one of our people attempted to swim, and got safe on
shore. There were numbers of Moors upon the rocks ready
to take hold of any one, and beckoned much for us to come
ashore, which, at first we took for kindness, but they soon undeceived
us, for they had not the humanity to assist any that
was entirely naked, but would fly to those who had any thing
about them, and strip them before they were quite out of the
water, wrangling among themselves about the plunder; in the
mean time the poor wretches were left to crawl up the rocks
if they were able, if not, they perished unregarded. The
second lieutenant and myself, with about sixty-five others, got
ashore before dark, but were left exposed to the weather on
the cold sand. To preserve ourselves from perishing of cold,
were obliged to go down to the shore, and to bring up pieces
of the wreck to make a fire. While thus employed, if we
happened to pick up a shirt or handkerchief, and did not give
it to the Moors at the first demand, the next thing was a dagger
presented to our breast.

They allowed us a piece of an old sail, which they did not
think worth carrying off; with this we made two tents, and
crowded ourselves into them, sitting between one another’s
legs to preserve warmth, and make room. In this uneasy situation,
continually bewailing our misery, and that of our poor
shipmates on the wreck, we passed a most tedious night, without
so much as a drop of water to refresh ourselves, excepting
what we caught through our sail-cloth covering.

November the 30th, at six in the morning, went down with
a number of our men upon the rocks, to assist our shipmates
in coming ashore, and found the ship had been greatly shattered
in the night. It being now low water, many attempted
to swim ashore; some got safe, but others perished. The
people on board got the raft into the water, and about fifteen
men placed themselves upon it. They had no sooner put off
from the wreck, than it overturned; most of the men recovered
it again, but, scarcely were they on, before it was a second
time overturned. Only three or four got hold of it again, and
all the rest perished. In the mean time, a good swimmer
brought with much difficulty a rope ashore, which I had the
good fortune to catch hold of just when he was quite spent,
and had thoughts of quitting it.

Some people coming to my assistance, we pulled a large
rope ashore with that, and made it fast round a rock. We
found this gave great spirits to the poor souls upon the wreck,
[Pg 67]
it being hauled taught from the upper part of the stern, made
an easy descent to any who had art enough to walk or slide
upon a rope, with a smaller rope fixed above to hold by. This
was a means of saving a number of lives, though many were
washed off by the impetuous surf, and perished. The flood
coming on, raised the surf, and prevented any more from
coming at that time, so that the ropes could be of no further
use. We then retired from the rocks; and hunger prevailing,
set about boiling some of the drowned turkeys, &c. which
with some flour mixed into a paste, and baked upon the coals,
constituted our first meal upon this barbarous coast. We
found a well of fresh water about a half a mile off, which very
much refreshed us. But we had scarcely finished this coarse
repast, when the Moors, who were now grown numerous,
drove us all down to the rocks to bring up empty iron bound
casks, pieces of the wreck which had the most iron about them,
and other articles.

About three o’clock in the afternoon we made another meal
on the drowned poultry, and finding this was the best provision
we were likely to have; some were ordered to save all
they could find, others to raise a larger tent, and the rest sent
down to the rocks to look for people coming ashore. The
surf greatly increasing with the flood, and breaking upon the
fore-part of the ship, she was divided into three parts; the
fore-part turned keel up, the middle part soon dashed into a
thousand pieces; the fore-part of the poop likewise fell at this
time, and about thirty men with it, eight of whom got ashore
with our help, but so bruised, that we despaired of their recovery.
Nothing but the after-part of the poop now remained
above water, and a very small part of the other decks, on
which our captain, and about 130 more remained, expecting
every wave to be their last. Every shock threw some off;
few or none of whom came on shore alive. During this distress
the Moors laughed uncommonly, and seemed much diverted,
when a wave larger than usual, threatened the destruction
of the poor wretches on the wreck. Between four and
five o’clock the sea was decreased with the ebb; the rope being
still secure, the people began to venture upon it; some
tumbled off and perished, but others reached the shore in
safety.

About five, we beckoned as much as possible for the captain
to come upon the rope, as this seemed to be as good
an opportunity as any we had seen; and many arrived in
safety with our assistance. Some told us that the captain
[Pg 68]
was determined to stay till all the men had quitted the wreck
however, we still continued to beckon for him, and before it
was dark, saw him come upon the rope. He was closely followed
by a good able seaman, who did all he could to keep up
his spirits and assist him in warping. As he could not swim,
and had been so many hours without refreshment, with the
surf hurling him violently along, he was unable to resist the
force of the waves, had lost his hold of the great rope, and
must inevitably have perished had not a wave thrown him
within the reach of our ropes, which he had barely sufficient
sense to catch hold of. We pulled him up, and after resting
a short time on the rocks, he came to himself, and walked up
to the tent, desiring us to continue to assist the rest of the
people in coming on shore.

The villains, (the Moors), would have stripped him, though,
he had nothing on but a plain waistcoat and breeches, if we
had not plucked up a little spirit and opposed them; upon
which they thought proper to desist. The people continued
to come ashore, though many perished in the attempt. The
Moors, at length, growing tired with waiting for so little plunder,
would not suffer us to remain on the rocks, but drove us
all away. I then, with the captain’s approbation, went, and
by signs made humble supplication to the bashaw, who was in
the tent, dividing the valuable plunder. He understood us at
last, and gave us permission to go down, at the same time
sending some Moors with us. We carried fire-brands down to
let the poor souls on the wreck see that we were still there in
readiness to assist them. About nine at night finding that
no more men would venture upon the rope, as the surf was
again greatly increased, we retired to the tent, leaving by the
account of the last man arrived, between thirty and forty souls
still upon the wreck. We now thought of stowing every
body in the tent, and began by fixing the captain in the middle.
Then made every man lie down on his side, as we could
not afford them each a breadth; but, after all, many took easier
lodging in empty casks.

The next morning the weather was moderate and fair.—We
found the wreck all in pieces on the rocks, and the shore
covered with lumber. The people upon the wreck all perished
about one in morning. In the afternoon we called a muster,
and found the number of the survivors to be 220; so that
130 perished on this melancholy occasion.

On the 2d of December, the weather still continued moderate.
We subsisted entirely on the drowned stock, and a little
[Pg 69]
pork to relish it, and the flour made into cakes; all of which
we issued regularly and sparingly, being ignorant whether
the Moors would furnish us with any thing, they being still very
troublesome, and even wanting to rob us of the canvass which
covered our tent.

At two in the afternoon a black servant arrived, sent by
Mr. Butler, a Dane, factor to the African Company at Saffy
at the distance of about thirty miles, to inquire into our condition
and to offer us assistance. The man having brought
pens, ink and paper, the captain sent back a letter by him.—Finding
there was one who offered us help, it greatly refreshed
our afflicted hearts.

In the afternoon of the following day, we received a letter
from Mr. Butler, with some bread and a few other necessaries.
On the 4th, the people were employed in picking up
pieces of sails, and whatever else the Moors would permit
them. We divided the crew into messes, and served the
necessaries we received the preceding day. They had bread
and the flesh of the drowned stock. In the afternoon we
received another letter from Mr. Butler, and one at the same
time from Mr. Andrews, an Irish gentleman, a merchant at
Saffy. The Moors were not so troublesome now as before,
most of them going off with what they had got.

On the 5th the drowned stock was entirely consumed, and
at low water the people were employed in collecting muscles.
At ten in the morning, Mr. Andrews arrived, bringing a French
surgeon with medicines and plaisters, of which, some of the
men who had been dreadfully bruised, stood in great need.—The
following day, we served out one of the blankets of the
country to every two men, and pampooses, a kind of slippers,
to those who were in most want of them. These supplies
were likewise brought us by Mr. Andrews. The people were
now obliged to live upon muscles and bread, the Moors, who
promised us a supply of cattle, having deceived us, and never
returned.

The people on the 7th were still employed in collecting
muscles and limpets. The Moors began to be a little civil to
us, for fear the emperor should punish them for their cruel
treatment to us. In the afternoon, a messenger arrived from
the emperor at Sallee, with general orders to the people to
supply us with provisions. They accordingly brought us
some lean bullocks and sheep which Mr. Andrews purchased
for us; but at this time we had no pots to make broth in, and
the cattle were scarcely fit for any thing else.

[Pg 70]
In the morning of the 10th, we made preparations for
marching to Morocco, the emperor having sent orders for that
purpose, and camels to carry the lame and necessaries. At
nine, set off with about thirty camels, having got all our
liquor with us, divided into hogsheads, for the convenience of
carriage on the camels. At noon, joined the crews of one of
the transports and a bomb-tender, that had been wrecked
about three leagues to the northward of us. We were then
all mounted upon camels, excepting the captain, who was
furnished with a horse. We never stopped till seven in the
evening, when they procured two tents only, which would
not contain one third of the men, so that most of them lay
exposed to the dew, which was very heavy, and extremely
cold. We found our whole number to be 388, including officers,
men, boys, three women and a child, which one of the
women brought ashore in her teeth.

On the 11th, continued our journey, attended by a number
of Moors on horseback. At six in the evening we came to
our resting place for that night, and were furnished with tents
sufficient to cover all our men.

At five in the morning of the 12th, we set out as before,
and, at two in the afternoon, saw the emperor’s cavalcade at
a distance. At three, a relation of the emperor’s, named
Muli Adriz, came to us, and told the captain it was the emperor’s
orders, he should that instant write a letter to our
governor at Gibraltar, to send to his Britanic Majesty to inquire
whether he would settle a peace with him or not. Captain
Barton immediately sat down upon the grass and wrote a
letter, which, being given to Muli Adriz, he went and joined
the emperor again. At six in the evening came to our resting
place for the night, and were well furnished with tents,
but very little provisions.

We were, the following day, desired to continue on the
same spot, till the men were refreshed, and this repose they
greatly needed, and we received a better supply of provisions.
That morning, Lieutenant Harrison commanding the
soldiers belonging to Lord Forbes’s regiment died suddenly
in the tent. In the evening, while employed with his interment,
the inhuman Moors disturbed us by throwing stones
and mocking us. The next day we found that they had
opened the grave and stripped the body.

On the 16th, we continued our journey, came to our resting
place at four in the afternoon, pitched the tents, and served
out the provision. Here our people were ill-treated by
[Pg 71]
the country Moors. As they were taking water from a brook,
the Moors would always spit into the vessel before they would
suffer them to take it away. Upon this some of us went
down to inquire into the affair, but were immediately saluted
with a shower of stones. We ran in upon them, beat some
of them pretty soundly, put them to flight, and brought away
one who thought to defend himself with a long knife. This
fellow was severely punished by the officer who had the
charge of conducting us.

The two succeeding days continued our journey, and, at
three in the afternoon of the 18th, arrived at the City of Morocco,
without having seen a single habitation during the
whole journey. Here we were insulted by the rabble, and,
at five, were carried before the emperor, surrounded by five
or six hundred of his guards. He was on horseback before
the gate of his palace, that being the place where he distributes
justice to his people. He told Captain Barton, by an
interpreter, that he was neither at peace nor war with England,
and he would detain us till an ambassador arrived from
that country to conclude a permanent treaty. The captain
then desired that we might not be treated as slaves. He answered
hastily, that we should be taken care of. We were
then immediately hurried out of his presence, conveyed to
two old ruinous houses, shut up amidst dirt and innumerable
vermin of every description. Mr. Butler being at Morocco
on business, came and supplied us with victuals and drink,
and procured liberty for the captain to go home with him to
his lodgings. He likewise sent some blankets for the officers,
and we made shift to pass the night with tolerable comfort,
being very much fatigued.

At nine in the morning of the 21st, the emperor sent orders
for the captain and every officer to appear before him. We
immediately repaired to his palace; we remained waiting
in an outer yard two hours; in the mean time he diverted
himself with seeing a clumsy Dutch boat rowed about in a
pond by four of our petty officers. About noon we were called
before him, and placed in a line about thirty yards from
him. He was sitting in a chair by the side of the pond, accompanied
only by two of his chief alcaides. Having viewed
us some time, he ordered the captain to come forward, and
after asking him a good many questions concerning our navy,
and the destination of the squadron to which we had belonged,
we were also called forward by two and three at a time as we
stood according to our rank. He then asked most of us
[Pg 72]
some very insignificant questions, and took some to be Portuguese
because they had black hair, and others to be Swedes
because their hair was light. He judged none of us to be
English excepting the captain, the second lieutenant, the ensign
of the soldiers, and myself. But assuring him we were
all English, he cried Bonno, and gave a nod for our departure,
to which we returned a very low bow, and were glad to
return to our old ruined houses again. Our total number
amounted to thirty.

On the 25th, being Christmas-day, prayers were read to the
people as usual in the church of England. The captain this
day received a present of tea and loaves of sugar from one of
the queens, whose grandfather had been an English renegado.

In the afternoon of the 26th, we received the disagreeable
intelligence, that the emperor would oblige all the English to
work, like all the other Christian slaves, excepting the officers
who were before him on the 21st. The next day this account
was confirmed; for, at seven in the morning, an alcaide came
and ordered all our people out to work, excepting the sick.
Upon our application eight were allowed to stay at home
every day to cook for the rest, and this office was performed
by turns throughout the whole number. At four in the afternoon
the people returned, some having been employed in carrying
wood, some in turning up the ground with hoes, and
others in picking weeds in the emperor’s garden. Their victuals
were prepared for them against their return.

On the 28th all the people went to work as soon as they
could see, and returned at four in the afternoon. Two of the
soldiers received one hundred bastinadoes each, for behaving
in a disrespectful manner while the emperor was looking at
their work.

On the 30th, Captain Barton received a kind message from
the emperor, with permission to ride out or take a walk in his
garden with his officers.

From this time the men continued in the same state of slavery
till the arrival, in April, of Captain Milbank, sent as an
ambassador to the emperor. He concluded a treaty for the
ransom of the crew of the Litchfield, together with the other
English subjects in the emperor’s power, and the sum stipulated
to be paid for their release, was 170,000 dollars. Our
people accordingly set out for Sallee, attended by a bashaw
and two soldiers on horseback. On the fourth day of their
march, they had a skirmish with some of the country Moors.
The dispute began in consequence of some of our men in the
[Pg 73]
rear stopping at a village to buy some milk, for which, after
they had drank it, the Moors demanded an exorbitant price.
This our men refused to give, on which the Moors had recourse
to blows, which our people returned; and others coming
to their assistance, they maintained a smart battle, till the
enemy became too numerous. In the meantime some rode
off to call the guard, who instantly came up with their drawn
scimetars, and dealt round them pretty briskly. During this
interval we were not idle, and had the pleasure to see the
blood trickling down a good many of their faces. The guards
seized the chief man of the village, and carried him before
the bashaw, who was our conductor, and who having heard
the cause dismissed him without further punishment, in consideration
of his having been well drubbed by us.

On the 22d of April, we arrived at Sallee, and pitched our
tents in an old castle, whence we soon afterwards embarked
on board the Gibraltar, which landed us at Gibraltar on the
27th of June. From that place the captain and crew were
put on board the Marlborough store ship, prepared expressly
for their reception, and arrived in England in the month of
August, 1760.

[Pg 74]

WRECK OF THE ROTHSAY CASTLE STEAMER.

The Rothsay Castle was a steam packet which formerly
traded on the Clyde. She belonged to the line of steamers
which sailed from Liverpool to Beaumaris and Bangor, and
was furnished with one engine only. She was commanded by
Lieut. Atkinson. At ten o’clock on the — of August, 1831
the vessel was appointed to sail from the usual place, George’s
Pierhead, but a casual delay took place in starting, and it was
eleven o’clock before she had got every thing in readiness.
Whilst taking passengers on board, a carriage arrived at the
Pierhead for embarkation. It belonged to M. W. Foster,
Esq. of Regent’s park, London, who, with his wife and servant,
were conveyed in it to the packet, and took their passage at
the same time. They were all subsequently drowned, a little
dog which accompanied them being the only survivor of this
unfortunate group. When the steamer left the Pierhead her
deck was thronged with passengers. The captain, crew,
musicians, &c. amounted to fifteen, in addition to whom, it was
supposed by persons who saw the vessel sail that one hundred
and ten or one hundred and twenty souls were on board.
The majority of the passengers consisted of holyday and family
parties, chiefly from country places; and in one of these companies,
who came on a journey of pleasure from Bury, the
hand of death committed a merciless devastation. It consisted
of twenty-six persons; in the morning, joyous with health
and hilarity, they set out upon the waves, and when the shades
of that evening approached, every soul but two saw his last of
suns go down.

The weather was not particularly boisterous at the time she
sailed. A severe storm however, had raged in the morning
[Pg 75]
and must have agitated the water on the Banks more than
usual. The wind too, blew strongly from the north-west, and
the vessel had to contend with the tide, which began to flow
soon after she passed the rock. When the steamer arrived
off the Floating-light, which is stationed about fifteen miles
from Liverpool, the roughness of the sea alarmed many of the
passengers.—One of the survivors stated, that Mr. Tarry, of
Bury, who, with his family, consisting of himself, his wife,
their five children, and servant, was on board, being, in common
with others, greatly alarmed for his own safety and the
safety of those dear to him, went down to the cabin, where the
captain was at dinner, and requested him to put back. His
reply was, “I think there is a great deal of fear on board, and
very little danger. If we were to turn back with passengers,
it would never do—we should have no profit.” To another
gentleman who urged him to put back, he is reported to have
said very angrily, “I’m not one of those that turn back.”
He remained in the cabin two whole hours, and peremptorily
refused to comply with the repeated requests made to him
by the more timid of his passengers to return to Liverpool;
observing that if they knew him, they would not make the request.
Before dinner, his behavior had been unexceptionable;
but, after he had dined, a very striking difference was observed
in his conduct. He became violent in his manner, and
abusive in his language to the men. When anxiously questioned
by the passengers, as to the progress the vessel was
making, and the time at which she was likely to reach her destination,
he returned trifling, and frequently very contradictory
answers. During the early part of the voyage, he had
spoken confidently of being able to reach Beaumaris by seven
o’clock; but the evening wore away, night came on, and the
vessel was still a considerable distance from the termination
of her voyage. It was near twelve o’clock when they arrived
at the mouth of the Menai Strait, which is about five miles
from Beaumaris. The tide, which had been running out of
the strait, and which had, consequently, for some time previous
retarded the steamer’s progress towards her destination,
was just on the turn. The vessel, according to the statement
of two of the seamen and one of the firemen saved, had got
round the buoy on the north end of the Dutchman’s Bank,
and had proceeded up the river as far as the tower on Puffin
Island; when suddenly the steam got so low that the engine
would not keep her on her proper course. When asked,
why there was not steam on, the fireman said that a deal of
[Pg 76]
water had been finding its way into the vessel all day, and that
sometime before she got into the strait, the bilge-pumps were
choked. The water in the hold then overflowed the coals; so
that, in renewing the fires, a deal of water went in with the coals,
and made it impossible to keep the steam up. It was the
duty of the fireman to give notice of this occurrence; but he
seems not to have mentioned it to the captain. The vessel,
which had evidently come fair into the channel, though there
was no light on the coast to guide her, now drifted, with the
ebb tide and north-west wind, towards the Dutchman’s Bank,
on the north point of which she struck, her bows sticking fast in
the sand. Lieut. Atkinson immediately ordered the man at
the helm to put the helm a starboard. The man refused to do
so; but put it to port. The mate, perceiving this, ran aft,
took the helm from the man, and put it to starboard again.—In
the meantime, the captain and some of the passengers got
the jib up.—No doubt he did this intending to wear her round
and bring her head to the northward; but in the opinion of
nautical men, it could not make the least difference which way
her head was turned, as she was on a lee shore, and there was
no steam to work her off. The captain also ordered the passengers
first to run aft, in the hope, by removing the pressure
from the vessel’s stem, to make her float: this failing to produce
the desired effect, he then ordered them to run forward.
All the exertions of the captain, the crew and passengers
united were unavailing. The ill-fated vessel stuck still faster
in the sands, and all gave themselves up for lost. The terror
of the passengers became excessive. Several of them urged
the captain to hoist lights, and make other signals of distress;
but he positively refused to do so, assuring the passengers that
there was no danger, and telling them several times, that the
packet was afloat, and doing well, and on her way; when the
passengers knew perfectly well that she was sticking fast in
the sand, and her cabins rapidly filling with water. Doubtless
the unfortunate man was perfectly aware of the imminence of
the danger; but we may charitably suppose, that he held such
language for the purpose of preventing alarm which might be
fatal. The alarm bell was now rung with so much violence
that the clapper broke, and some of the passengers continued
to strike it for some time with a stone. The bell was heard,
it is said, at Beaumaris, but, as there was no light hoisted on the
mast of the steamer, (a fatal neglect!) those who heard the
signal were, of course, ignorant whence it proceeded. The
[Pg 77]
weather, at this awful moment, was boisterous, but perfectly
clear. The moon, though slightly overcast, threw considerable
light on the surrounding objects.—But a strong breeze
blew from the north-west, the tide began to set in with great
strength, and a heavy sea beat over the bank on which the
steam packet was now firmly and immovably fixed.

We cannot describe the scene which followed. Certain
death seemed now to present itself to all on board, and the
most affecting scenes were exhibited. The females, in particular,
uttered the most piercing shrieks; some locked themselves
in each others arms, while others, losing all self-command,
tore off their caps and bonnets, in the wildness of despair.
A Liverpool pilot, who happened to be in the packet,
now raised his voice and exclaimed, “It is all over—we are
all lost!” At these words there was a universal despairing
shriek. The women and children collected in a knot together,
and kept embracing each other, keeping up, all the time, the
most dismal lamentations. When tired with crying they lay
against each other, with their heads reclined, like inanimate
bodies. The steward of the vessel and his wife, who was on
board, lashed themselves to the mast, determined to spend
their last moments in each other’s arms. Several husbands
and wives also met their fate locked in each other’s arms;
whilst parents clung to their beloved children,—several mothers
it is said, having perished with their dear little ones
firmly clasped in their arms. A party of the passengers,
about fifteen or twenty, lowered the boat and crowded into it.
It was impossible for any open boat to live in such a sea, even
though not overloaded, and she immediately swamped and
went to the bottom, with all who had made this last hopeless
effort for self-preservation.

For some time the vessel, though now irrecoverably lost,
continued to resist the action of the waves, and the despairing
souls on board still struggled with their doom. But hope
had forever fled; the packet was beaten and tossed about by
the tumultuous waters with a violence which threatened to
dash her into fragments at every shock, and the sea now
made a continual breach over her. The decks were repeatedly
swept by the boiling ocean, and each billow snatched its
victims to a watery grave. The unfortunate captain and his
mate were among the first that perished. About thirty or forty
passengers were standing upon the poop clinging to each
other in hopeless agony, and occasionally uttering the most
piteous ejaculations. Whilst trembling thus upon the brink
[Pg 78]
of destruction, and expecting every moment to share the fate
which had already overtaken so many of their companions in
misery, the poop was discovered to give way; another wave
rolled on with impetuous fury, and the hinder part of the luckless
vessel, with all who sought safety in its frail support, was
burst away from its shattered counterpart, and about forty
wretched beings hurried through the foaming flood into an
eternal world.

Those who retained any degree of sensibility endeavored
to catch at whatever was floating within their reach, with the
vain hope of prolonging their lives though it was certain that
life could only lengthen their sufferings. Many grasped
with frantic despair, at the slightest object they could find,
but were either too weak to retain their hold, or were forced
to relinquish their grasp by the raging of the surge. The
rudder was seized by eight of the sinking creatures at the
same time, and some of them, were ultimately preserved.
The number of those who clung to the portion of the wreck
which remained upon the bank gradually grew thinner and
thinner, as they sunk under their fatigues, or were hurled
into the deep by the remorseless waves. At length, about an
hour and a half from the time when she struck, the remnant
of the Rothsay Castle disappeared from the bosom of the
ocean, and the remainder of her passengers and crew were
precipitated into the foaming abyss.

SHIPWRECK OF THE FRENCH SHIP DROITS DE L’HOMME.

On the 5th of January, 1797, returning home on leave of
absence from the West Indies, in the Cumberland letter of
marque, for the recovery of my health, saw a large man of war
off the coast of Ireland, being then within four leagues of the
mouth of the river Shannon. She hoisted English colours,
[Pg 79]
and decoyed us within gun-shot, when she substituted the tri-coloured
flag, and took us. She proved to be les Droits de
L’Homme, of 74 guns, commanded by the ci-devant baron,
now citizen La Crosse, and had separated from a fleet of men
of war, on board of which were twenty thousand troops, intended
to invade Ireland. On board of this ship was General
Humbert, who afterwards effected a descent into Ireland (in
1799) with nine hundred troops and six hundred seamen.

On the 7th of January went into Bantry Bay to see if any
of the squadron was still there, and on finding none, the ship
proceeded to the southward. Nothing extraordinary occurred
until the evening of the 13th, when two men of war hove in
sight, which afterwards proved to be the Indefatigable and
Amazon frigates. It is rather remarkable that the captain
of the ship should inform me, that the squadron which was
going to engage him was Sir Edward Pellow’s, and declared,
as was afterwards proved by the issue, “that he would not
yield to any two English frigates, but would sooner sink
his ship with every soul on board.” The ship was then
cleared for action, and we English prisoners, consisting of
three infantry officers, two captains of merchantmen, two women,
and forty-eight seamen and soldiers, were conducted
down to the cabin tier at the foot of the fore-mast.

The action began with opening the lower deck ports, which,
however were soon shut again, on account of the great sea,
which occasioned the water to rush in to that degree that we
felt it running on the cables. I must here observe, that this
ship was built on a new construction, considerably longer
than men of war of her rate, and her lower-deck, on which
she mounted thirty-two pounders French, equal to forty
pounders English, was two feet and a half lower than usual.
The situation of the ship, before she struck on the rocks, has
been fully elucidated by Sir Edward Pellow, in his letter of
the 17th of January, to Mr. Nepeau. The awful task is left
for me to relate what ensued.

At about four in the morning a dreadful convulsion, at the
foot of the fore-mast, roused us from a state of anxiety for
our fate, to the idea that the ship was sinking. It was the
fore-mast that fell over the side; in about a quarter of an hour
an awful mandate from above was re-echoed from all parts of
the ship; Pouvores Anglais! Pouvores Anglais! Montez bien
vite nous sommes tous perdus!—“poor Englishmen! poor
Englishmen! come on deck as fast as you can, we are all
lost!” Every one rather flew than climbed. Though scarcely
[Pg 80]
able to move before, from sickness, yet I now felt an energetic
strength in all my frame, and soon gained the upper
deck, but what a sight! dead, wounded and living, intermingled
in a state too shocking to describe; not a mast standing,
a dreadful loom of the land, and breakers all around us.—The
Indefatigable, on the starboard quarter, appeared standing
off, in a most tremendous sea, from the Penmark rocks,
which threatened her with instant destruction. To the great
humanity of her commander, those few persons who survived
the shipwreck, are indebted for their lives, for had another
broadside been fired, the commanding situation of the Indefatigable
must have swept off at least a thousand men. On
the starboard side was seen the Amazon within two miles,
just struck on the shore. Our own fate drew near. The
ship struck and immediately sunk! Shrieks of horror and
dismay were heard from all quarters, while the merciless
waves tore from the wreck many early victims. Day-light
appeared, and we beheld the shore lined with people who
could render us no assistance. At low water, rafts were constructed,
and the boats were got in readiness to be hoisted
out. The dusk arrived, and an awful sight ensued. The
dawn of the second day brought with it still severer miseries
than the first, for the wants of nature could scarcely be endured
any longer, having been already near thirty hours
without any means of subsistence, and no possibility of procuring
them.

At low water a small boat was hoisted out, and an English
captain and eight sailors succeeded in getting to the shore.—Elated
at the success of these men all thought their deliverance
at hand, and many launched out on their rafts, but, alas!
death soon ended their hopes.

Another night renewed our afflictions. The morning of
the third, fraught with still greater evils, appeared; our continued
sufferings made us exert the last effort, and we English
prisoners, tried every means to save as many of our fellow
creatures as lay in our power. Larger rafts were constructed,
and the largest boat was got over the side. The
first consideration was to lay the surviving wounded, the women
and helpless men in the boat, but the idea of equality,
so fatally promulgated among the French, destroyed all subordination,
and nearly one hundred and twenty having jumped
into the boat, in defiance of their officers, they sunk her.—The
most dreadful sea that I ever saw seemed at that moment
to aggravate our calamity; nothing of the boat was seen for a
[Pg 81]
quarter of an hour, when the bodies floated in all directions;
then appeared, in all their horrors, the wreck, the shores, the
dying and the drowned! Indefatigable in acts of humanity,
an adjutant general, Renier, launched himself into the sea, to
obtain succours from the shore, and perished in the attempt.

Nearly one half the people had already perished, when the
horrors of the fourth night renewed all our miseries. Weak,
distracted, and destitute of every thing, we envied the fate of
those whose lifeless corpses no longer wanted sustenance.—The
sense of hunger was already lost, but a parching thirst
consumed our vitals. Recourse was had to urine and salt
water, which only increased the wants; half a hogshead of
vinegar indeed floated up, of which each had half a wine
glass; it afforded a momentary relief, but soon left us again in
the same state of dreadful thirst. Almost at the last gasp,
every one was dying with misery, and the ship, now one third
shattered away from the stern, scarcely afforded a grasp to hold
by, to the exhausted and helpless survivors.

The fourth day brought with it a more serene sky, and the
sea seemed to subside, but to behold, from fore to aft, the dying
in all directions, was a sight too shocking for the feeling
mind to endure. Almost lost to a sense of humanity, we no
longer looked with pity on those whom we considered only as
the forerunners of our own speedy fate, and a consultation
took place, to sacrifice some one to be food for the remainder.
The die was going to be cast, when the welcome sight of a
man of war brig renewed our hopes.

A cutter speedily followed, and both anchored at a short distance
from the wreck. They then sent their boats to us, and
by means of large rafts, about one hundred, out of four hundred
who attempted, were saved by the brig that evening.—Three
hundred and eighty were left to endure another night’s
misery, when, dreadful to relate, above one half were found
dead the next morning!

I was saved about ten o’clock on the morning of the 18th,
with my brother officers, the captain of the ship, and General
Humbert. They treated us with great humanity on board the
cutter, giving us a little weak brandy and water every five or
six minutes, and after that a bason of good soup. I fell on
the locker in a kind of trance for near thirty hours, and swelled
to such a degree as to require medical aid to restore my
decayed faculties. Having lost all our baggage, we were taken
to Brest almost naked, where they gave us a rough shift
of clothes, and in consequence of our sufferings, and the help
[Pg 82]
we afforded in saving many lives, a cartel was fitted out by
order of the French Government to send us home, without
ransom or exchange. We arrived at Plymouth on the 7th
of March following.

To that Providence, whose great workings I have experienced
in this most awful trial of human afflictions, be ever
offered the tribute of my praise and thanksgiving.

THE LOSS OF HIS MAJESTY’S SHIP, QUEEN CHARLOTTE.

The Queen Charlotte was, perhaps, one of the finest ships
in the British navy. She was launched in 1790, and her first
cruise was with the fleet fitted out against Spain, in consequence
of the dispute respecting Nootka Sound. Lord Howe,
who was the commander and chief of the fleet, was then on
board of her; and she also bore his lordship’s flag on the first
of June. After which she was sent to the Mediterranean, and
was the flag-ship of the commander in chief on that station.
In March, 1800, she was despatched by that nobleman to reconnoitre
the island of Cabrera, about thirty leagues from
Leghorn, then in the possession of the French, and which it
was his lordship’s intention to attack. On the morning of the
17th the ship was discovered to be on fire, at the distance of
three or four leagues from Leghorn. Every assistance was
promptly forwarded from the shore, but a number of boats, it
appears, were deterred from approaching the wreck, in consequence
of the guns, which were shotted, and which, when
heated by the fire, discharged their contents in every direction.

The only consolation that presents itself under the pressure
of so calamitous a disaster is, that it was not the effect either
of treachery or wilful neglect, as will appear by the following
official statement of the carpenter:—

“Mr. John Braid, carpenter of the Queen Charlotte, reports,
that twenty minutes after 6 o’clock in the morning, as he
[Pg 83]
was dressing himself he heard throughout the ship a general
cry of ‘fire.’ On which he immediately ran up the after-ladder
to get upon deck, and found the whole half-deck, the front
bulk-head of the admiral’s cabin, the main-mast’s coat, and
boat’s covering on the booms, all in flames; which, from
every report and probability, he apprehends was occasioned
by some hay, which was lying under the half-deck, having
been set on fire by a match in a tub, which was usually kept
there for signal guns.—The main-sail at this time was set,
and almost entirely caught fire; the people not being able to
come to the clue garnets on account of the flames.

“He immediately went to the fore-castle, and found Lieut.
Dundas and the boatswain encouraging the people to get
water to extinguish the fire. He applied to Mr. Dundas, seeing
no other officer in the fore-part of the ship (and being unable
to see any on the quarter-deck, from the flames and
smoke between them) to give him assistance to drown the
lower-decks, and secure the hatches, to prevent the fire falling
down. Lieut. Dundas accordingly went down himself,
with as many people as he could prevail upon to follow him:
and the lower-deck ports were opened, the scuppers plugged,
the main and fore-hatches secured, the cocks turned, and
water drawn in at the ports, and the pumps kept going by the
people who came down, as long as they could stand at them.

“He thinks that by these exertions the lower-deck was
kept free from fire, and the magazines preserved for a long
time from danger; nor did Lieut. Dundas, or he, quit this
station, but remained there with all the people who could be
prevailed upon to stay, till several of the middle-deck guns
came through that deck.

“About nine o’clock Lieut. Dundas and he, finding it impossible
to remain any longer below, went out at the fore-mast
lower deck port, and got upon the fore-castle; on which he
apprehends there were then about one hundred and fifty of the
people drawing water, and throwing it as far aft as possible
upon the fire.

“He continued about an hour on the fore-castle; and finding
all efforts to extinguish the flames unavailing, he jumped
from the jib-boom, and swam to an American boat approaching
the ship, by which he was picked up and put into a Tartan
then in the charge of Lieut. Stewart, who had come off to
the assistance of the ship.

(Signed) “JOHN BRAID.”
Leghorn, March 18, 1800.

[Pg 84]
Capt. Todd remained upon deck, with his First Lieutenant,
to the last moment, giving orders for saving the crew, without
thinking of his own safety. Before he fell a sacrifice to the
flames, he had time and courage to write down the particulars
of this melancholy event, for the information of Lord Keith,
of which he gave copies to different sailors, entreating them,
that whoever should escape might deliver it to the admiral.

Thus fell victims to perhaps a too severe duty, the captain
and his first lieutenant, at a time when they still had it in their
power to save themselves; but self-preservation is never a
matter of consideration in the exalted mind of a British naval
officer, when the safety of his crew is at stake.

Lord Keith and some of the officers were providentially on
shore, at Leghorn, when the dreadful accident occurred.
Twenty commissioned and warrant officers, two servants and
142 seamen, are the whole of the crew that escaped destruction
out of nearly 900 souls on board, that for nearly four hours exerted
every nerve to avoid that dreadful termination which too
surely awaited them.

A SCENE ON THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.

On the morning of the 5th of August, 1833, during a severe
gale in lat. 46, lon. 31, Capt. Dempsey, of the ship Kingston,
discovered at a short distance to leeward, a brig lying on her
beam ends, with flag of distress waving. Capt. D. instantly
bore down towards her, when she proved to be the Albion, of
Cork, crowded with passengers. Having reached within hail of
the unfortunate vessel, a heart-rending scene presented itself.
“We beheld,” says Capt. Dempsey, “the brig reeling ere she
took the farewell plunge—witnessed the cool intrepidity of the
sailors, even at such a moment—and listened, with feelings
the most harrowing, to the piercing shrieks of the ill-fated
passengers. The crew of the Kingston flung their best boat
into the boiling Atlantic, but every exertion was vain—the
angry ocean soon made her its prey. The Albion went down
with every human soul on board.”

[Pg 86]

DEPARTURE OF THE FRENCH FRIGATE MEDUSA

[Pg 87]

SHIPWRECK OF THE FRENCH FRIGATE
MEDUSA.

On the Western Coast of Africa. By Madame Dard, one of the
Sufferers.

In the year 1816, an expedition was fitted out by the French
to go and resume possession of Senegal, which had been restored
to them.—My father was reinstated in his place of
resident attorney, and taking with him his family repaired
immediately to Rochefort to embark on board the Medusa
frigate.

Early on the morning of the 12th of June, we were on our
way to the boats that were to convey us on board the Medusa,
which was riding at anchor off the island of Aix, distant
about four leagues from Rochefort. The field through which
we passed was sown with corn. Wishing before I left our
beautiful France, to make my farewell to the flowers, and,
whilst our family went leisurely forward to the place where
we were to embark upon the Charente, I crossed the furrows,
and gathered a few blue-bottles and poppies. We soon arrived
at the place of embarkation, where we found some of
our fellow passengers, who, like myself, seemed casting a last
look to Heaven, whilst they were yet on the French soil.—We
embarked, however and left these happy shores. In descending
the tortuous course of the Charente, contrary winds
so impeded our progress, that we did not reach the Medusa
till the morrow, having taken twenty-four hours in sailing four
leagues. At length we mounted the deck of the Medusa, of
painful memory. When we got on board, we found our
berths not provided for us, consequently were obliged to remain
indiscriminately together till the next day. Our family,
which consisted of nine persons, was placed in a berth near
the main deck. As the wind was still contrary, we lay at anchor
for seventeen days.

On the 17th of June, at four in the morning, we set sail
[Pg 88]
as did the whole expedition, which consisted of the Medusa
frigate, the Loire store-ship, the Argus brig and the Echo
corvette. The wind being favorable, we soon lost sight of
the green fields of l’Aunis. At six in the morning, however,
the island of Rhe still appeared above the horizon. We fixed
our eyes upon it with regret, to salute for the last time our
dear country. Now, imagine the ship borne aloft, and surrounded
by huge mountains of water, which at one moment
tossed it in the air, and at another plunged it into the profound
abyss.

The waves, raised by a stormy northwest breeze, came
dashing in a horrible manner against the sides of our ship.—I
knew not whether it was a presentiment of the misfortune
which menaced us that had made me pass the preceding
night in the most cruel inquietude. In my agitation, I sprang
upon deck, and contemplated with horror the frigate winging
its way upon the waters. The winds pressed against the sails
with great violence, strained and whistled among the cordage;
and the great bulk of wood seemed to split every time the
surge broke upon its sides. On looking a little out to sea I
perceived at no great distance on our right, all the other ships
of the expedition, which quieted me very much. Towards
ten in the morning the wind changed; immediately an appalling
cry was heard, concerning which the passengers, as well
as myself, were equally ignorant. The whole crew were in
motion. Some climbed the rope ladders, and seemed to
perch on the extremities of the yards; others mounted to the
highest parts of the mast; these bellowing and pulling the
cordages in cadence; those crying, swearing, whistling, and
filling the air with barbarous and unknown sounds. The officer
on duty, in his turn, roaring out these words, starboard,
larboard, hoist, luff, tack, which the helmsman repeated in
the same tone. All this hubbub, however, produced its effect;
the yards were turned on their pivots, the sails set, the
cordage tightened, and the unfortunate sea-boys having received
their lesson descended to the deck. Every thing remained
tranquil, except that the waves still roared, and the
masts continued their creaking. However the sails were
swelled, the wind less violent, though favorable, and the mariner,
while he caroled his song, said we had a noble voyage.

During several days we did indeed enjoy a delightful passage.
All the ships of the expedition still kept together, but
at length the breeze became changeable, and they all
[Pg 89]
disappeared. The Echo, however, still kept in sight, and persisted
in accompanying us, as if to guide us on our route. The
wind becoming more favorable, we held due south, sailing at
the rate of sixty-two leagues a day. The sea was so fine,
and our journey so rapid, that I began to think it nearly as
agreeable to travel by sea as by land; but my illusion was not
of long duration.

On the 28th of June, at six in the morning, we discovered
the Peak of Teneriffe, towards the south, the summit of whose
cone seemed lost in the clouds. We were then distant about
two leagues, which we made in less than a quarter of an
hour. At ten o’clock we brought to before the town of St.
Croix. Several officers got leave to go on shore to procure
refreshments.

While these gentlemen were away, a certain passenger,
member of the self-instituted Philanthropic Society of Cape
Verd, suggested that it was very dangerous to remain where
we were, adding that he was well acquainted with the country,
and had navigated in all these latitudes. M. Le Roy
Lachaumareys, captain of the Medusa, believing the pretended
knowledge of the intriguing Richefort, gave him the command
of the frigate. Various officers of the navy, represented
to the captain how shameful it was to put such confidence
in a stranger, and they would never obey a man who had no
character as a commander. The captain despised these wise
remonstrances; and, using his authority, commanded the pilots,
and all the crew, to obey Richefort; saying he was king,
since the orders of the king were, that they should obey him.
Immediately the imposter, desirous of displaying his great
skill in navigation, made them change the route, for no purpose,
but that of showing his skill in manœuvring the ship.—Every
instant he changed the tack, went, came and returned,
and approached the very reefs, as if to brave them; in short,
he beat about so much, that the sailors at length refused to
obey him, saying boldly that he was a vile imposter. But it
was done. The man had gained the confidence of Captain
Lachaumareys, who ignorant of navigation himself, was
doubtless glad to get someone to undertake his duty. But
it must be told, that this blind inept confidence was the sole
cause of the loss of the Medusa frigate, as well as all the
crimes consequent upon it.

Towards three in the afternoon, those officers who went on
shore in the morning, returned on board loaded with vegetables,
fruits and flowers. They laughed heartily at the
[Pg 90]
manœuvres that had been going on during their absence, which
doubtless did not please the captain, who flattered himself
he had already found in his pilot Richefort, a good and able
seaman; such were his words.

At four in the afternoon we took a southerly direction. M. Richefort,
then beaming with exultation for having, as he
said, saved the Medusa from certain shipwreck, continued to
give his pernicious counsels to the captain, persuading him he
had been often employed to explore the shores of Africa, and
that he was perfectly well acquainted with the Arguin Bank.
The journals of the 29th and 30th afford nothing very remarkable.

The hot winds from the desert of Sahara began to be felt,
which told us we approached the tropic; indeed, the sun at
noon seemed suspended perpendicularly above our heads, a
phenomenon which few among us had ever seen.

On the 1st of July, we recognised Cape Bojador, and then
saw the shores of Sahara. Towards ten in the morning, they
set about the frivolous ceremony which the sailors have invented
for the purpose of exacting something from those passengers
who have never crossed the line. During the ceremony,
the frigate doubled Cape Barbas hastening to its destruction.
Captain Lachaumareys very good humoredly presided
at this species of baptism, while his dear Richefort promenaded
the forecastle, and looked with indifference upon a
shore bristling with dangers. However that may be, all passed
on well; nay, it may even be said that the farce was well
played off. But the route which we pursued soon made us
forget the short lived happiness we had experienced. Every
one began to observe the sudden change which had taken
place in the color of the sea, as we ran upon the bank in shallow
water. A general murmur arose among the passengers
and officers of the navy;—they were far from partaking in the
blind confidence of the captain.

On the second of July, at five in the morning, the captain
was persuaded that a large cloud, which was discovered in
the direction of Cape Blanco, was that Cape itself. After
this pretended discovery, they ought to have steered to the
west, for about fifty leagues, to have gained sea room to
double with certainty the Arguin Bank; moreover, they ought
to have conformed to the instructions the Minister of Marine
had given to the ships which set out for Senegal. The other
part of the expedition, from having followed these instructions
arrived in safety at their destination. During the preceding
[Pg 91]
night, the Echo, which had hitherto accompanied the Medusa,
made several signals, but being replied to with contempt,
abandoned us. Towards ten in the morning, the danger
which threatened us was again represented to the captain,
and he was strongly urged, if he wished to avoid the Arguin
Bank, to take a westerly course; but the advice was again
neglected, and he despised the predictions. One of the officers
of the frigate, from having wished to expose the intriguing
Richefort, was put under arrest. My father, who had already
twice made the voyage to Senegal, and who with various
persons was persuaded they were going right upon the
bank, also made his observations to the unfortunate pilot.—His
advice was no better received than those of Messrs. Reynaud,
Espiau, Maudet, &c. Richefort, in the sweetest tone,
replied, ‘My dear, we know our business; attend to yours,
and be quiet. I have already twice passed the Arguin Bank; I
have sailed upon the Red Sea, and you see I am not drowned.’
What reply could be made to such a preposterous speech?
My father, seeing it was impossible to get our route changed,
resolved to trust to Providence to free us from our danger,
and descended to our cabin, where he sought to dissipate his
fears in the oblivion of sleep.

At noon on the 2d of July, soundings were taken. M. Maudet,
ensign of the watch, was convinced we were upon
the edge of the Arguin Bank. The captain said to him, as
well as to every one, that there was no cause of alarm. In
the meanwhile, the wind blowing with great violence, impelled
us nearer and nearer to the danger which menaced us.—A
species of stupor overpowered all our spirits, and every
one preserved a mournful silence, as if they were persuaded
we would soon touch the bank. The color of the water entirely
changed, a circumstance even remarked by the ladies.
About three in the afternoon, being in 19 30 north latitude,
and 19 45 west longitude, an universal cry was heard upon
deck. All declared they saw sand rolling among the ripple
of the sea. The captain in an instant ordered to sound.—The
line gave eighteen fathoms; but on a second sounding it
only gave six. He at last saw his error, and hesitated no
longer on changing the route, but it was too late. A strong
concussion told us the frigate had struck. Terror and consternation
were instantly depicted on every face. The crew
stood motionless; the passengers in utter despair. In the
midst of this general panic, cries of vengeance were heard
against the principal author of our misfortunes, wishing to
[Pg 92]
throw him overboard; but some generous persons interposed,
and endeavored to calm their spirits, by diverting their attention
to the means of our safety. The confusion was already
so great, that McPoinsignon, commandant of a troop, struck
my sister Caroline a severe blow, doubtless thinking it was
one of his soldiers. At this crisis my father was buried in
profound sleep, but he quickly awoke, the cries and the tumult
upon deck having informed him of our misfortunes. He
poured out a thousand reproaches on those whose ignorance
and boasting had been so disastrous to us. However, they
set about the means of averting our danger. The officers,
with an altered voice, issued their orders expecting every moment
to see the ship go in pieces. They strove to lighten her,
but the sea was very rough and the current strong. Much
time was lost in doing nothing; they only pursued half measures
and all of them unfortunately failed.

When it was discovered that the danger of the Medusa was
not so great as was at first supposed, various persons proposed
to transport the troops to the island of Arguin, which was
conjectured to be not far from the place where we lay
aground. Others advised to take us all successively to the
coast of the desert of Sahara, by the means of our boats, and
with provisions sufficient to form a caravan, to reach the island
of Saint Louis, at Senegal. The events which afterwards
ensued proved this plan to have been the best, and which
would have been crowned with success; unfortunately it was
not adopted. M. Schmaltz, the governor, suggested the
making of a raft of sufficient size to carry two hundred men,
with provisions; which latter plan was seconded by the two
officers of the frigate, and put in execution.

The fatal raft was then begun to be constructed, which
would, they said, carry provisions for every one. Masts,
planks, boards and cordage were thrown overboard. Two
officers were charged with the framing of these together.—Large
barrels were emptied and placed at the angles of the
machine, and the workmen were taught to say, that the passengers
would be in greater security there, and more at their
ease, than in the boats. However, it was forgotten to erect
rails, every one supposed, and with reason, that those who
had given the plan of the raft, had had no design of embarking
upon it themselves.

When it was completed, the two chief officers of the frigate
publicly promised, that all the boats would tow it to the
shore of the Desert; and, when there, stores of provisions
[Pg 93]
and fire-arms would be given us to form a caravan to
take us all to Senegal. Why was not this plan executed?—Why
were these promises, sworn before the French flag,
made in vain? But it is necessary to draw a veil over the past.
I will only add, that if these promises had been fulfilled, every
one would have been saved, and that, in spite of the detestable
egotism of certain personages, humanity would not
now have had to deplore the scenes of horror consequent on
the wreck of the Medusa.

On the 3d of July, the efforts were renewed to disengage
the frigate, but without success. We then prepared to quit
her. The sea became very rough, and the wind blew with
great violence. Nothing now was heard but the plaintive
and confused cries of a multitude, consisting of more than
four hundred persons, who, seeing death before their eyes,
deplored their hard fate in bitter lamentations.

On the 4th, there was a glimpse of hope. At the hour the
tide flowed, the frigate, being considerably lightened by all
that had been thrown overboard, was found nearly afloat; and
it is very certain, if on that day they had thrown the artillery
into the water, the Medusa would have been saved; but
M. Lachaumareys said, he would not thus sacrifice the king’s
cannon, as if the frigate did not belong to the king also.—However,
the sea ebbed, and the ship sinking into the sand
deeper than ever, made them relinquish that on which depended
our last ray of hope.

On the approach of night, the fury of the winds redoubled,
and the sea became very rough. The frigate then received
some tremendous concussions, and the water rushed into the
hold in the most terrific manner, but the pumps would not
work. We had now no alternative but to abandon her for
the frail boats, which any single wave might overwhelm.—Frightful
gulfs environed us; mountains of water raised their
liquid summits in the distance. How were we to escape so
many dangers? Whither could we go? What hospitable
land would receive us on its shores? My thoughts then reverted
to our beloved country. Then starting suddenly from
my reverie, I exclaimed: ‘O terrible condition! that black and
boundless sea resembles the eternal night which will engulf
us! All those who surround me seem yet tranquil, but that
fatal calm will soon be succeeded by the most frightful torments.
Fools, what had we to find in Senegal, to make us
trust to the most perfidious of elements! Did France not afford
every necessary for our happiness? Happy! yes, thrice
[Pg 94]
happy, they who never set foot on a foreign soil! Great
God! succor all these unfortunate beings; save our unhappy
family!’

My father perceived my distress, but how could he console
me? What words could calm my fears, and place me above
the apprehensions of those dangers to which we were exposed?
How, in a word, could I assume a serene appearance,
when friends, parents and all that was most dear to me were,
in all human probability, on the very verge of destruction?—Alas!
my fears were but too well founded. For I soon perceived
that, although we were the only ladies, besides the
Misses Schmaltz, who formed a part of the Governor’s suit,
they had the barbarity of intending our family to embark upon
the raft, where were only soldiers sailors and planters of
Cape Verd, and some generous officers who had not the honor
(if it could be accounted one) of being considered among
the ignorant confidants of MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys.
My father, indignant at a proceeding so indecorous, swore
we would not embark upon the raft, and that, if we were
not judged worthy of a place in one of the six boats, he would
himself, his wife and children, remain on board the wreck
of the frigate. The tone in which he spoke these words, was
that of a man resolute to avenge any insult that might be offered
to him. The governor of Senegal, doubtless fearing
the world would one day reproach him for his inhumanity, decided
we should have a place in one of the boats. This having
in some measure quieted our fears concerning our unfortunate
situation, I was desirous of taking some repose, but
the uproar among the crew was so great I could not obtain it.

Towards midnight, a passenger came to inquire of my
father if we were disposed to depart; he replied, we had been
forbid to go yet. However, we were soon convinced that a
great part of the crew and various passengers were secretly
preparing to set off in the boats. A conduct so perfidious
could not fail to alarm us, especially as we perceived among
those so eager to embark unknown to us, several who had
promised, but a little while before, not to go without us.

M. Schmaltz, to prevent that which was going on upon
deck, instantly rose to endeavor to quiet their minds; but the
soldiers had already assumed a threatening attitude, and
holding cheap the words of their commander, swore they
would fire upon whosoever attempted to depart in a clandestine
manner. The firmness of these brave men produced the
desired effect, and all was restored to order. The governor
[Pg 95]
returned to his cabin; and those who were desirous of departing
furtively were confused and covered with shame. The
governor, however, was ill at ease; and as he had heard
very distinctly certain energetic words which had been addressed
to him, he judged it proper to assemble a council.—All
the officers and passengers being collected, M. Schmaltz,
there solemnly swore before them not to abandon the raft, and
a second time promised that all the boats would tow it to the
shore of the Desert, where they would all be formed into a
caravan. I confess this conduct of the governor greatly satisfied
every member of our family; for we never dreamed he
would deceive us, nor act in a manner contrary to what he
had promised.

About three in the morning, some hours after the meeting
of the council, a terrible noise was heard in the powder room;
it was the helm which was broken. All who were sleeping
were roused by it. On going on deck every one was more
and more convinced that the frigate was lost beyond all recovery.
Alas! the wreck was for our family but the commencement
of a horrible series of misfortunes. The two
chief officers then decided with one accord, that all should embark
at six in the morning, and abandon the ship to the mercy
of the waves. After the decision, followed a scene the most
whimsical, and at the same time the most melancholy that can be
well conceived. To have a more distinct idea of it, let the
reader transport himself in imagination to the midst of the liquid
plains of the ocean: then let him picture to himself a multitude
of all classes, of every age, tossed about at the mercy of
the waves upon a dismasted vessel, foundered, and half submerged,
let him not forget these are thinking beings with the certain
prospect before them of having reached the goal of their
existence.

Separated from the rest of the world by a boundless sea,
and having no place of refuge but the wreck of a grounded
vessel, the multitude addressed at first their vows to heaven,
and forgot, for a moment, all earthly concerns. Then suddenly
starting from their lethargy, they began to look after
their wealth, the merchandise they had in small ventures,
utterly regardless of the elements which threatened them.
The miser, thinking of the gold contained in his coffers, hastening
to put it in a place of safety, either by sewing it into the
lining of his clothes, or by cutting out for it a place in the
waistband of his trowsers. The smuggler was tearing his hair
at not being able to save a chest of contraband which he had
[Pg 96]
secretly got on board, and with which he had hoped to have
gained two or three hundred per cent. Another, selfish to
excess, was throwing overboard all his hidden money, and
amusing himself by burning all his effects. A generous officer
was opening his portmanteau, offering caps, stockings, and
shirts, to any who would take them. These had scarcely
gathered together their various effects, when they learned that
they could not take anything with them; those were searching
the cabin and store-rooms to carry away everything that
was valuable. Ship-boys were discovering the delicate wines
and fine liquors, which a wise foresight had placed in reserve.
Soldiers and sailors were penetrating even into the spirit-room,
broaching casks, staving others and drinking till they fell exhausted.
Soon the tumult of the inebriated made us forget
the roaring of the sea which threatened to engulf us. At last
the uproar was at its height; the soldiers no longer listened to
the voice of the captain. Some knit their brows and muttered
oaths; but nothing could be done with those whom wine had
rendered furious. Next, piercing cries mixed with doleful
groans were heard—this was the signal of departure.

At six o’clock on the morning of the 5th, a great part of the
military were embarked upon the raft, which was already
covered with a large sheet of foam. The soldiers were expressly
prohibited from taking their arms. A young officer of
infantry, whose brain seemed to be powerfully affected, put his
horse beside the barricadoes of the frigate, and then, armed
with two pistols, threatened to fire upon any one who refused
to go upon the raft. Forty men had scarcely descended when
it sunk to the depth of about two feet. To facilitate the embarking
of a greater number, they were obliged to throw over
several barrels of provisions which had been placed upon it
the day before. In this manner did this furious officer get
about one hundred and fifty heaped upon that floating tomb;
but he did not think of adding one more to the number by descending
himself, as he ought to have done, but went peaceably
away, and placed himself in one of the best boats. There
should have been sixty sailors upon the raft, and there were but
about ten. A list had been made out on the 4th, assigning
each his proper place: but this wise precaution being disregarded,
every one pursued the plan he deemed the best for his
own preservation. The precipitation with which they forced
one hundred and fifty unfortunate beings upon the raft was
such, that they forgot to give them one morsel of biscuit.
However, they threw towards them twenty-five pounds in a
[Pg 97]
sack, while they were not far from the frigate; but it fell into
the sea, and was with difficulty recovered.

During this disaster, the governor of Senegal, who was
busied in the care of his own dear self, effeminately descended
in an arm-chair into the barge, where were already various
large chests, all kinds of provisions, his dearest friends, his
daughters and his wife. Afterwards the captain’s boat received
twenty-seven persons, among whom were twenty-five
sailors, good rowers. The shallop, commanded by M. Espiau,
ensign of the ship, took forty-five passengers, and put off.
The boat, called the Senegal, took twenty-five; the pinnace
thirty-three; and the yawl, the smallest of all the boats, took
only ten.

Almost all the officers, the passengers, the mariners and supernumeraries,
were already embarked—all, but our weeping
family, who still remained upon the boards of the frigate, till
some charitable souls would kindly receive us into a boat.
Surprised at this abandonment, I instantly felt myself roused,
and, calling with all my might to the officers of the boats, besought
them to take our unhappy family along with them.
Soon after, the barge, in which were the governor of Senegal
and all his family, approached the Medusa, as if still to take
some passengers, for there were but few in it. I made a motion
to descend, hoping that the Misses Schmaltz, who had,
till that day, taken a great interest in our family, would allow
us a place in their boat; but I was mistaken: those ladies,
who had embarked in a mysterious incognito, had already forgotten
us; and M. Lachaumareys, who was still on the frigate,
positively told me they would not embark along with us.
Nevertheless I ought to tell, what we learned afterwards, that
the officer who commanded the pinnace had received orders
to take us in, but, as he was already a great way from the frigate,
we were certain he had abandoned us. My father however
hailed him, but he persisted on his way to gain the open
sea. A short while afterwards we perceived a small boat
among the waves, which seemed desirous to approach the
Medusa; it was the yawl. When it was sufficiently near,
my father implored the sailors who were in it to take us on
board, and to carry us to the pinnace, where our family ought
to be placed. They refused. He then seized a firelock,
which lay by chance upon deck, and swore he would kill
every one of them if they refused to take us, adding that it
was the property of the king, and that he would have advantage
from it as well as another. The sailors murmured, but
[Pg 98]
durst not resist, and received all our family, which consisted
of nine persons, viz. four children, our step-mother, my cousin,
my sister Caroline, my father and myself. A small box
filled with valuable papers, which we wished to save, some
clothes, two bottles of ratafia, which we had endeavored to
preserve amidst our misfortunes, were seized and thrown
overboard by the sailors of the yawl, who told us we would
find in the pinnace everything we could wish for our voyage.
We had then only the clothes which covered us, never thinking
of dressing ourselves in two suits; but the loss which affected
us most was that of several MSS, at which my father
had been laboring for a long while. Our trunks, our linen
and various chests of merchandize of great value, in a word,
everything we possessed, was left in the Medusa. When we
boarded the pinnace, the officer who commanded it began excusing
himself for having set off without forewarning us, as
he had been ordered, and said a thousand things in his justification.
But without believing the half of his fine protestations,
we felt very happy in having overtaken him; for it is most
certain they had no intention of encumbering themselves with
our unfortunate family. I say encumber, for it is evident
that four children, one of whom was yet at the breast,
were very indifferent beings to people who were actuated by
a selfishness without all parallel. When we were seated in
the long boat, my father dismissed the sailors with the
yawl, telling them he would ever gratefully remember their
services. They speedily departed, but little satisfied with the
good action they had done. My father hearing their murmurs
and the abuse they poured out against us, said, loud enough
for all in the boat to hear, ‘We are not surprised sailors are
destitute of shame, when their officers blush at being compelled
to do a good action.’ The commandant of the boat feigned
not to understand the reproaches conveyed in these words,
and, to divert our minds from brooding over our wrongs, endeavored
to counterfeit the man of gallantry.

All the boats were already far from the Medusa, when they
were brought to, to form a chain in order to tow the raft.—The
barge, in which was the governor of Senegal, took the
first tow, then all the other boats in succession joined themselves
to that. M. Lachaumareys embarked, although there
yet remained upon the Medusa more than sixty persons.—Then
the brave and generous M. Espiau, commander of the
shallop, quitted the line of boats, and returned to the frigate,
with the intention of saving all the wretches who had been
[Pg 99]
abandoned. They all sprung into the shallop; but as it was
very much overloaded, seventeen unfortunates preferred remaining
on board, rather than expose themselves as well as
their companions to certain death. But alas! the greater
part afterwards fell victims to their fears or their devotion.—Fifty-two
days after they were abandoned, no more than three
of them were alive, and those looked more like skeletons than
men. They told that their miserable companions had gone
afloat upon planks and hen-coops, after having waited in vain
forty-two days, for the succor which had been promised them,
and that all had perished.

The shallop, carrying with difficulty all those she had saved
from the Medusa, slowly rejoined the line of boats which towed
the raft, M. Espiau earnestly besought the officers of the
other boats to take some of them along with them; but they
refused, alleging to the generous officer that he ought to keep
them in his own boat, as he had gone for them himself.
M. Espiau, finding it impossible to keep them all without exposing
them to the utmost peril, steered right for a boat which I
will not name. Immediately a sailor sprung from the shallop
into the sea, and endeavored to reach it by swimming; and
when he was about to enter it, an officer who possessed great
influence pushed him back, and, drawing his sabre, threatened
to cut off his hands, if he again made the attempt. The
poor wretch regained the shallop, which was very near the pinnace,
which we were in, my father supplicated M. Laperere,
the officer of the boat, to receive him on board, and had his
arms already out to catch him, when M. Laperere instantly let
go the rope which attached us to the other boats, and tugged
off with all his force. At the same instant every boat imitated
our execrable example; and wishing to shun the approach of
the shallop, which sought for assistance, stood off from the
raft, abandoning, in the midst of the ocean, and to the fury of
the waves, the miserable mortals whom they had sworn to
land on the shores of the Desert.

Scarcely had these cowards broken their oath, when we
saw the French flag flying upon the raft. The confidence of
those unfortunate persons was so great, that when they saw the
first boat which had the tow removing from them, they all cried
out the rope is broken! the rope is broken! but when no attention
was paid to their observation, they instantly perceived
the treachery of the wretches who had left them so basely.—Then
the cries of Vive le Roi arose from the raft, as if the
poor fellows were calling to their father for assistance; or, as
[Pg 100]
if they had been persuaded that, at that rallying word, the officers
of the boats would return, and not abandon their countrymen.
The officers repeated the cry of Vive le Roi, without
a doubt, to insult them; but, more particularly, M. Lachaumareys
who, assuming a martial attitude, waved his hat in the
air. Alas! what availed these false professions? Frenchmen,
menaced with the greatest peril, were demanding assistance
with the cries of Vive le Roi; yet none were found sufficiently
generous nor sufficiently French, to go to aid them. After
a silence of some minutes, horrible cries were heard; the air
resounded with the groans, the lamentations, the imprecations
of these wretched beings, and the echo of the sea frequently
repeated, alas! how cruel you are to abandon us!!! The raft
already appeared to be buried under the waves, and its unfortunate
passengers immersed. The fatal machine was drifted
by currents far behind the wreck of the frigate; without
cable, anchor, mast, sail or oars; in a word, without the smallest
means of enabling them to save themselves. Each wave
that struck it, made them stumble in heaps on one another.—Their
feet getting entangled among the cordage, and between
the planks, bereaved them of the faculty of moving. Maddened
by these misfortunes, suspended, and adrift upon a
merciless ocean, they were soon tortured between the pieces
of wood which formed the scaffold on which they floated.—The
bones of their feet and their legs were bruised and broken,
every time the fury of the waves agitated the raft; their
flesh covered with contusions and hideous wounds, dissolved,
as it were, in the briny waves, while the roaring flood around
them was colored with their blood.

As the raft, when it was abandoned, was nearly two leagues
from the frigate, it was impossible these unfortunate persons
could return to it; they were soon after far out to sea. These
victims still appeared above their floating tomb; and, stretching
out their supplicating hands towards the boats which fled
from them, seemed yet to invoke, for the last time, the names
of the wretches who had deceived them. O horrid day! a day
of shame and reproach! Alas! that the hearts of those who
were so well acquainted with misfortune, should have been so
inaccessible to pity.

After witnessing that most inhuman scene, and seeing they
were insensible to the cries and lamentations of so many unhappy
beings, I felt my heart bursting with sorrow. It seemed
to me that the waves would overwhelm all these wretches,
and I could not suppress my tears. My father, exasperated
[Pg 101]
to excess, and bursting with rage at seeing so much cowardice
and inhumanity among the officers of the boats, began to regret
he had not accepted the place which had been assigned for
us upon the fatal raft. ‘At least,’ said he, ‘we would have died
with the brave, or would have returned to the wreck of the
Medusa; and not have had the disgrace of saving ourselves
with cowards.’ Although this produced no effect upon the
officers, it proved very fatal to us afterwards; for, on our arrival
at Senegal, it was reported to the Governor, and very
probably was the principal cause of all those evils and vexations
which we endured in that colony.

Let us now turn our attention to the several situations of all
those who were endeavoring to save themselves in the different
boats, as well as to those left upon the wreck of the Medusa.

We have already seen, that the frigate was half sunk when
it was deserted, presenting nothing but a hulk and wreck.—Nevertheless,
seventeen still remained upon it, and had food,
which, although damaged, enabled them to support themselves
for a considerable time; while the raft was abandoned to float
at the mercy of the waves, upon the vast surface of the ocean.
One hundred and fifty wretches were embarked upon it, sunk
to the depth of at least three feet on its fore part, and on its
poop immersed even to the middle. What victuals they had
were soon consumed, or spoiled by the salt water; and perhaps
some, as the waves hurried them along, became food for
the monsters of the deep. Two only of all the boats which
left the Medusa, and these with very few people in them, were
provisioned with every necessary; these struck off with security
and despatch. But the condition of those who were in
the shallop was but little better than those upon the raft; their
great number, their scarcity of provisions, their great distance
from the shore, gave them the most melancholy anticipations
of the future. Their worthy commander, M. Espiau, had no
other hope but of reaching the shore as soon as possible. The
other boats were less filled with people, but they were scarcely
better provisioned; and as by a species of fatality, the pinnace,
in which were our family, was destitute of everything.
Our provisions consisted of a barrel of biscuit, and a tierce of
water; and, to add to our misfortune, the biscuit being soaked
in the sea, it was almost impossible to swallow one morsel
of it. Each passenger in our boat was obliged to sustain his
wretched existence with a glass of water, which he could get
only once a day. To tell how this happened, how this boat
[Pg 102]
was so poorly supplied, while there was abundance left upon
the Medusa, is far beyond my power. But it is at least certain,
that the greater part of the officers commanding the
boats, the shallop, the pinnace, the Senegal boat, and the
yawl, were persuaded, when they quitted the frigate, that they
would not abandon the raft, but that all the expedition would
sail together to the coast of Sahara; that when there, the boats
would be again sent to the Medusa to take provisions, arms,
and those who were left there; but it appears the chiefs had
decided otherwise.

After abandoning the raft, although scattered, all the boats
formed a little fleet, and followed the same route. All who
were sincere hoped to arrive the same day at the coast of the
Desert, and that every one would get on shore; but
MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys gave orders to take the route
for Senegal. This sudden change in the resolutions of the
chiefs was like a thunderbolt to the officers commanding the
boats. Having nothing on board but what was barely necessary
to enable us to allay the cravings of hunger for one day,
we were all sensibly affected. The other boats, which, like
ourselves, hoped to have got on shore at the nearest point,
were a little better provisioned than we were; they had at
least a little wine, which supplied the place of other necessaries.
We then demanded some from them, explaining our
situation, but none would assist us, not even the captain, who,
drinking to a kept mistress, supported by two sailors, swore
he had not one drop on board. We were next desirous of addressing
the boat of the Governor of Senegal, where we were
persuaded were plenty of provisions of every kind, such as
oranges, biscuit, cakes, comfits, plums and even the finest liquors;
but my father opposed it, so well was he assured we
would not obtain anything.

We will now turn to the condition of those on the raft,
when the boats left them to themselves.

If all the boats had continued dragging the raft forward, favored
as we were by the breeze from the sea, we would have
been able to have conducted them to the shore in less than
two days. But an inconceivable fatality caused the generous
plan to be abandoned which had been formed.

When the raft had lost sight of the boats, a spirit of sedition
began to manifest itself in furious cries. They then began
to regard one another with ferocious looks, and to thirst
for one another’s flesh. Some one had already whispered of
having recourse to that monstrous extremity, and of
[Pg 103]
commencing with the fattest and youngest. A proposition so
atrocious filled the brave Captain Dupont and his worthy
Lieutenant M. L’Heureux with horror; and that courage
which had so often supported them in the field of glory, now
forsook them.

Among the first who fell under the hatchets of the assassins,
was a young woman who had been seen devouring the body
of her husband. When her turn was come, she sought a little
wine as a last favor, then rose, and without uttering a word
threw herself into the sea. Captain Dupont, being prescribed
for having refused to partake of the sacrilegious viands with
which the monsters were feeding on, was saved by a miracle
from the hands of the butchers. Scarcely had they seized
him to lead him to the slaughter, when a large pole, which
served in place of a mast, fell upon his body; and believing
that his legs were broken, they contented themselves by
throwing him into the sea. The unfortunate captain plunged
and disappeared, and they thought him already in another
world.

Providence, however, revived the strength of the unfortunate
warrior. He emerged under the beams of the raft, and
clinging with all his might, holding his head above water, he
remained between two enormous pieces of wood, while the
rest of his body was hid in the sea. After more than two hours
of suffering, Captain Dupont spoke in a low voice to his lieutenant,
who by chance was seated near the place of his concealment.
The brave L’Heureux, with eyes glistening with
tears, believed he heard the voice, and saw the shade of his
captain; and trembling, was about to quit the place of horror;
O wonderful! he saw a head which seemed to draw its last
sigh, he recognized it, he embraced it, alas! it was his dear
friend! Dupont was instantly drawn from the water, and
L’Heureux obtained for his unfortunate comrade again a place
upon the raft. Those who had been most inveterate against
him, touched at what Providence had done for him in so miraculous
a manner, decided with one accord to allow him entire
liberty upon the raft.

The sixty unfortunates who had escaped from the first massacre,
were soon reduced to fifty, then to forty, and at last to
twenty-eight. The least murmur, or the smallest complaint,
at the moment of distributing the provisions, was a crime punished
with immediate death. In consequence of such a regulation,
it may easily be presumed the raft was soon lightened.
In the meanwhile the wine diminished sensibly, and the
[Pg 104]
half-rations very much displeased a certain chief of the conspiracy.
On purpose to avoid being reduced to that extremity,
the executive power decided it was much wiser to drown thirteen
people, and to get full rations, than that twenty-eight
should have half rations.

Merciful Heaven! what shame! After the last catastrophe,
the chiefs of the conspiracy, fearing, doubtless of being
assassinated in their turn, threw all the arms into the sea, and
swore an inviolable friendship with the heroes which the
hatchet had spared. On the 17th of July, in the morning,
Captain Parnajon, commandant of the Argus brig, still found
fifteen men on the raft. They were immediately taken on
board, and conducted to Senegal. Four of the fifteen are
yet alive, viz. Captain Dupont, residing in the neighborhood
of Maintenon, Lieutenant L’Heureux, since Captain at Senegal,
Savigny, at Rochefort, and Correard, I know not where.

On the 5th of July, at ten in the morning, one hour after
abandoning the raft, and three after quitting the Medusa,
M. Laperere, the officer of our boat, made the first distribution of
provisions. Each passenger had a small glass of water and
nearly the fourth of a biscuit. Each drank his allowance of
water at one draught, but it was found impossible to swallow
one morsel of our biscuit, it being so impregnated with sea-water.
It happened, however, that some was found not quite
so saturated. Of these we eat a small portion, and put back
the remainder for a future day. Our voyage would have been
sufficiently agreeable, if the beams of the sun had not been so
fierce. On the evening we perceived the shores of the Desert;
but as the two chiefs (MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys)
wished to go right for Senegal, notwithstanding we
were still one hundred leagues from it, we were not allowed
to land. Several officers remonstrated, both on account of
our want of provisions and the crowded condition of the
boats, for undertaking so dangerous a voyage. Others urged
with equal force, that it would be dishonoring the French
name if we were to neglect the unfortunate people on the
raft, and insisted we should be set on shore, and whilst we
waited there, three boats should return to look after the raft,
and three to the wreck of the frigate, to take up the seventeen
who were left there, as well as a sufficient quantity of provisions
to enable us to go to Senegal by the way of Barbary.
But MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys whose boats were sufficiently
well provisioned, scouted the advice or their subalterns,
and ordered them to cast anchor till the following morning.
[Pg 105]
They were obliged to obey these orders, and to relinquish
their designs. During the night, a certain passenger
who was doubtless no doctor, and who believed in ghosts and
witches, was suddenly frightened by the appearance of flames,
which he thought he saw in the waters of the sea, a little way
from where our boat was anchored. My father, and some
others, who were aware that the sea is sometimes phosphorated,
confirmed the poor credulous man in his belief, and added
several circumstances which fairly turned his brain. They
persuaded him the Arabic sorcerers had fired the sea to prevent
us from travelling along their deserts.

On the morning of the 6th of July, at five o’clock, all the
boats were under way on the route to Senegal. The boats
of MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys took the lead along the
coast, and all the expedition followed. About eight, several
sailors in our boat, with threats, demanded to be set on shore;
but M. Laperere, not acceding to their request, the whole
were about to revolt and seize the command; but the firmness
of this officer quelled the mutineers. In a spring which he
made to seize a firelock which a sailor persisted in keeping in
his possession, he almost tumbled into the sea. My father
fortunately was near him, and held him by his clothes, but he
had instantly to quit him, for fear of losing his hat, which the
waves were floating away. A short while after this slight
accident, the shallop, which we had lost sight of since the
morning, appeared desirous of rejoining us. We plied all
hands to avoid her, for we were afraid of one another, and
thought that that boat, encumbered with so many people, wished
to board us to oblige us to take some of its passengers, as
M. Espiau would not suffer them to be abandoned like those
upon the raft. That officer hailed us at a distance, offering to
take our family on board, adding, he was anxious to take
about sixty people to the Desert. The officer of our boat,
thinking that this was a pretence, replied, we preferred suffering
where we were. It even appeared to us that M. Espiau
had hid some of his people under the benches of the shallop.
But alas; in the end we deeply deplored being so suspicious,
and of having so outraged the devotion of the most generous
officer of the Medusa.

Our boat began to leak considerably, but we prevented it
as well as we could, by stuffing the largest holes with oakum,
which an old sailor had had the precaution to take before quitting
the frigate. At noon the heat became so strong—so intolerable,
that several of us believed we had reached our last
[Pg 106]
moments. The hot winds of the Desert even reached us; and
the fine sand with which they were loaded, had completely obscured
the clearness of the atmosphere. The sun presented
a reddish disk; the whole surface of the ocean became nebulous,
and the air which we breathed, depositing a fine sand, an
impalpable powder, penetrated to our lungs, already parched
with a burning thirst. In this state of torment we remained
till four in the afternoon, when a breeze from the northwest
brought us some relief. Notwithstanding the privations we
felt, and especially the burning thirst which had become intolerable,
the cool air which we now began to breathe, made
us in part forget our sufferings. The heavens began again to
resume the usual serenity of those latitudes, and we hoped to
have passed a good night. A second distribution of provisions
was made; each received a small glass of water, and the
eighth part of a biscuit. Notwithstanding our meagre fare,
every one seemed content, in the persuasion we would reach
Senegal by the morrow. But how vain were all our hopes,
and what sufferings had we yet to endure!

At half past seven, the sky was covered with stormy clouds.
The serenity we had admired a little while before, entirely disappeared,
and gave place to the most gloomy obscurity. The
surface of the ocean presented all the signs of a coming tempest.
The horizon on the side of the Desert had the appearance
of a long hideous chain of mountains piled on one another,
the summits of which seemed to vomit fire and smoke.
Bluish clouds, streaked with a dark copper color, detached
themselves from that shapeless heap, and came and joined
with those which floated over our heads. In less than half
an hour the ocean seemed confounded with the terrible sky
which canopied us. The stars were hid. Suddenly a frightful
noise was heard from the west, and all the waves of the
sea rushed to founder our frail bark. A fearful silence succeeded
to the general consternation. Every tongue was
mute; and none durst communicate to his neighbor the horror
with which his mind was impressed. At intervals the cries of
the children rent our hearts. At that instant a weeping and
agonized mother bared her breast to her dying child, but it
yielded nothing to appease the thirst of the little innocent
who pressed it in vain. O night of horrors! what pen is capable
to paint thy terrible picture! How describe the agonizing
fears of a father and mother, at the sight of their children
tossed about and expiring of hunger in a small boat, which the
winds and waves threatened to engulf at every instant! Having
[Pg 107]
full before our eyes the prospect of inevitable death, we
gave ourselves up to our unfortunate condition, and addressed
our prayers to Heaven. The winds growled with the utmost
fury; the tempestuous waves arose exasperated. In their
terrific encounter a mountain of water was precipitated into
our boat, carrying away one of the sails, and the greater part
of the effects which the sailors had saved from the Medusa.
Our bark was nearly sunk; the females and the children lay
rolling in its bottom, drinking the waters of bitterness; and
their cries, mixed with the roaring of the waves and the furious
north wind, increased the horrors of the scene. My unfortunate
father then experienced the most excruciating agony
of mind. The idea of the loss which the shipwreck had occasioned
to him, and the danger which still menaced all he
held dearest in the world, plunged him into a swoon. The
tenderness of his wife and children recovered him; but alas!
his recovery was to still more bitterly deplore the wretched
situation of his family. He clasped us to his bosom; he
bathed us with his tears, and seemed as if he was regarding us
with his last looks of love.

Every soul in the boat was seized with the same perturbation,
but it manifested itself in different ways. One part of
the sailors remained motionless, in a bewildered state; the
other cheered and encouraged one another; the children,
locked in the arms of their parents, wept incessantly. Some
demanded drink, vomiting the salt water which choked them;
others, in short, embraced as for the last time, intertwining
their arms, and vowing to die together.

In the meanwhile the sea became rougher and rougher.
The whole surface of the ocean seemed a vast plain furrowed
with huge blackish waves fringed with white foam. The
thunder growled around us, and the lightning discovered to our
eyes all that our imagination could conceive most horrible.
Our boat, beset on all sides by the winds, and at every instant
tossed on the summit of mountains of water, was very nearly
sunk in spite of our every effort in baling it, when we discovered
a large hole in its poop. It was instantly stuffed with
everything we could find:—old clothes, sleeves of shirts, shreds
of coats, shawls, useless bonnets, everything was employed,
and secured us as far as it was possible. During the space
of six hours, we rowed suspended alternately between hope
and fear, between life and death. At last towards the middle
of the night, Heaven, which had seen our resignation, commanded
the floods to be still. Instantly the sea became less
[Pg 108]
rough, the veil which covered the sky became less obscure,
the stars again shone out, and the tempest seemed to withdraw.
A general exclamation of joy and thankfulness issued at one
instant from every mouth. The winds calmed, and each of us
sought a little sleep, while our good and generous pilot steered
our boat on a still very stormy sea.

The day at last, the day so desired, entirely restored the
calm; but it brought no other consolation. During the night,
the currents, the waves, and the winds had taken us so far
out to sea, that, on the dawning of the 7th of July, we saw
nothing but sky and water, without knowing whither to direct
our course; for our compass had been broken during the
tempest. In this hopeless condition, we continued to steer
sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, until the sun
arose, and at last showed us the east.

On the morning of the 7th of July, we again saw the
shores of the Desert, notwithstanding we were a great distance
from it. The sailors renewed their murmurings, wishing
to get on shore, with the hope of being able to get some
wholesome plants, and some more palatable water than that of
the sea; but as we were afraid of the Moors, their request
was opposed. However, M. Laperere proposed to take them
as near as he could to the first breakers on the coast; and
when there, those who wished to go on shore should throw
themselves into the sea, and swim to land. Eleven accepted
the proposal; but when we had reached the first waves, none
had the courage to brave the mountains of water which rolled
between them and the beach. Our sailors then betook
themselves to their benches and oars, and promised to be
more quiet for the future. A short while after, a third distribution
was made since our departure from the Medusa; and
nothing more remained than four pints of water, and one half
dozen biscuits. What steps were we to take in this cruel
situation? We were desirous of going on shore, but we had
such dangers to encounter. However we soon came to a decision,
when we saw a caravan of Moors on the coast. We
then stood a little out to sea. According to the calculation
of our commanding officer, we would arrive at Senegal on
the morrow. Deceived by that false account, we preferred
suffering one day more, rather than be taken by the
Moors of the Desert, or perish among the breakers. We
had now no more than a small half glass of water, and the
seventh of a biscuit.

Exposed as we were to the heat of the sun, which darted
[Pg 109]
its rays perpendicularly on our heads, that ration, though small
would have been a great relief to us; but the distribution
was delayed to the morrow. We were then obliged to drink
the bitter sea water, ill as it was calculated to quench our
thirst. Must I tell it! thirst had so withered the lungs of
our sailors, that they drank water salter than that of the sea.
Our numbers diminished daily, and nothing but the hope of
arriving at the colony on the following day sustained our frail
existence. My young brothers and sisters wept incessantly
for water. The little Laura, aged six years lay dying at the
feet of her mother. Her mournful cries so moved the soul
of my unfortunate father, that he was on the eve of opening
a vein to quench the thirst which consumed his child; but a
wise person opposed his design, observing that all the blood
in his body would not prolong the life of his infant one moment.

The freshness of the night wind procured us some respite.
We anchored pretty near to the shore, and though dying of
famine, each got a tranquil sleep. On the morning of the
8th of July, at break of day, we took the route for Senegal.
A short while after the wind fell, and we had a dead calm.—We
endeavored to row, but our strength was exhausted. A
fourth and last distribution was made, and in the twinkling of
an eye, our last resources were consumed. We were forty-two
people who had to feed upon six biscuits and about four
pints of water, with no hope of a farther supply. Then came
the moment for deciding whether we were to perish among
the breakers, which defended the approach to the shores of
the Desert, or to die of famine in continuing our route.—The
majority preferred the last species of misery. We continued
our progress along the shore, painfully pulling our
oars. Upon the beach were distinguished several downs of
white sand and some small trees. We were thus creeping
along the coast, observing a mournful silence, when a sailor
suddenly exclaimed, behold the Moors! We did, in fact, see
various individuals upon the rising ground, walking at a
quick pace, and whom we took to be the Arabs of the Desert.
As we were very near the shore, we stood farther out to sea,
fearing that these pretended Moors, or Arabs, would throw
themselves into the sea, swim out, and take us. Some hours
after, we observed several people upon an eminence, who
seemed to make signals for us.

We examined them attentively, and soon recognized them
to be our companions in misfortune. We replied to them by
[Pg 110]
attaching a white handkerchief to the top of our mast. Then
we resolved to land at the risk of perishing among the breakers,
which were very strong towards the shore, although the
sea was calm. On approaching the beach, we went towards
the right, where the waves seemed less agitated, and endeavored
to reach it, with the hope of being able more easily to
land. Scarcely had we directed our course to that point,
when we perceived a great number of people standing near
to a little wood surrounding the sand-hills. We recognized
them to be the passengers of that boat, which, like ourselves,
were deprived of provisions.

Meanwhile we approached the shore, and already the foaming
surge filled us with terror. Each wave that came from
the open sea, each billow that swept beneath our boat, made
us bound into the air; so we were sometimes thrown from the
poop to the prow, and from the prow to the poop. Then, if
our pilot had missed the sea, we would have been sunk; the
waves would have thrown us aground, and we would have
been buried among the breakers. The helm of the boat was
again given to the old pilot, who had already so happily steered
us through the dangers of the storm. He instantly threw into
the sea the mast, the sails, and everything that could impede
our proceedings. When we came to the first landing point,
several of our shipwrecked companions, who had reached the
shore, ran and hid themselves behind the hills, not to see us
perish; others made signs not to approach at that place, some
covered their eyes with their hands; others, at last despising
the danger, precipitated themselves into the waves to receive
us in their arms. We then saw a spectacle that made us
shudder. We had already doubled two ranges of breakers;
but those which we had still to cross raised their foaming
waves to a prodigious height, then sunk with a hollow and
monstrous sound, sweeping along a long line of the coast.—Our
boat sometimes greatly elevated, and sometimes engulfed
between the waves, seemed, at the moment, of utter ruin.
Bruised, battered and tossed about on all hands, it turned of
itself, and refused to obey the kind hand which directed it.—At
that instant a huge wave rushed from the open sea, and
dashed against the poop; the boat plunged, disappeared, and
we were all among the waves. Our sailors, whose strength
had returned at the presence of danger, redoubled their efforts,
uttering mournful sounds. Our bark groaned, the oars were
broken; it was thought aground, but it was stranded; it was
upon its side. The last sea rushed upon us with the impetuosity
[Pg 111]
of a torrent. We were all up to the neck in water; the
bitter sea-froth choked us. The grapnel was thrown out.—The
sailors threw themselves into the sea; they took the
children in their arms; returned, and took us upon their
shoulders; and I found myself seated upon the sand on the
shore, by the side of my step-mother, my brothers and sisters,
almost dead. Every one was upon the beach except my father
and some sailors; but that good man arrived at last, to
mingle his tears with those of his family and friends.

Instantly our hearts joined in addressing our prayers and
praises to God. I raised my hands to heaven, and remained
sometime immoveable upon the beach. Every one also hastened
to testify his gratitude to our old pilot, who next to
God, justly merited the title of our preserver. M. Dumege,
a naval surgeon, gave him an elegant gold watch, the only
thing he had saved from the Medusa.

Let the reader now recollect all the perils to which we had
been exposed in escaping from the wreck of the frigate to the
shores of the Desert—all that we had suffered during our four
days’ voyage—and he will perhaps have a just notion of the
various sensations we felt on getting on shore on that strange
and savage land. Doubtless the joy we experienced at having
escaped, as by a miracle, the fury of the floods, was very
great; but how much was it lessened by the feelings of our
horrible situation! Without water, provisions, and the majority
of us nearly naked, was it to be wondered at that we
should be seized with terror on thinking of the obstacles
which we had to surmount, the fatigues, the privations, the
pains and sufferings we had to endure, with the dangers we
had to encounter in the immense and frightful Desert we had
to traverse before we could arrive at our destination? Almighty
Providence! it was in Thee alone I put my trust.

After we had a little recovered from the fainting and fatigue
of our getting on shore, our fellow-sufferers told us they had
landed in the forenoon, and cleared the breakers by the
strength of their oars and sails; but they had not all been so
lucky as we were. One unfortunate person, too desirous of
getting quickly on shore, had his legs broken under the
shallop, and was taken and laid on the beach, and left to the
care of Providence. M. Espiau, commander of the shallop,
reproached us for having doubted him when he wished to board
us to take our family along with him. It was most true he
had landed sixty-three people that day. A short while after
our refusal, he took the passengers of the yawl, who would
[Pg 112]
infallibly have perished in the stormy nights of the 6th and 7th.
The boat named the Senegal, commanded by M. Maudet, had
made the shore at the same time with M. Espiau. The boats
of MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys were the only ones
which continued the route for Senegal, while nine-tenths of
the Frenchmen intrusted to these gentlemen were butchering
each other on the raft, or dying of hunger on the burning
sands of Sahara.

About seven in the morning, a caravan was formed to penetrate
into the interior, for the purpose of finding some fresh
water. We did accordingly find some at a little distance from
the sea, by digging among the sand. Every one instantly
flocked round the little wells, which furnished enough to
quench our thirst. This brackish water was found to be delicious,
although it had a sulphurous taste: its color was that
of whey. As all our clothes were wet and in tatters, and as
we had nothing to change them, some generous officers offered
theirs. My step-mother, my cousin, and my sister, were
dressed in them; for myself, I preferred keeping my own.
We remained nearly an hour beside our beneficent fountain,
then took the route for Senegal; that is, a southerly direction,
for we did not know exactly where that country lay. It was
agreed that the females and children should walk before the
caravan, that they might not be left behind. The sailors voluntarily
carried the youngest on their shoulders, and every
one took the route along the coast. Notwithstanding it was
nearly seven o’clock, the sand was quite burning, and we suffered
severely, walking without shoes, having lost them while
landing. As soon as we arrived on the shore, we went to
walk on the wet sand, to cool us a little. Thus we traveled
during all the night, without encountering anything but
shells, which wounded our feet.

On the morning of the 9th, we saw an antelope on the top
of a little hill, which instantly disappeared, before we had time
to shoot it. The Desert seemed to our view one immense
plain of sand, on which was seen not one blade of verdure.
However, we still found water by digging in the sand. In the
forenoon, two officers of marine complained that our family incommoded
the progress of the caravan. It is true, the females
and the children could not walk so quickly as the men. We
walked as fast as it was possible for us, nevertheless, we often
fell behind, which obliged them to halt till we came up.
These officers, joined with other individuals, considered among
themselves whether they would wait for us, or to abandon us
[Pg 113]
in the Desert. I will be bold to say, however, that but few
were of the latter opinion. My father being informed of what
was plotting against us, stepped up to the chiefs of the conspiracy,
and reproached them in the bitterest terms for their
selfishness and brutality. The dispute waxed hot. Those
who were desirous of leaving us drew their swords, and my
father put his hand upon a poignard, with which he had provided
himself on quitting the frigate. At this scene, we threw
ourselves in between them, conjuring him rather to remain in
the Desert with his family, than seek the assistance of those
who were, perhaps, less human than the Moors themselves.
Several people took our part, particularly M. Begnere, captain
of infantry, who quieted the dispute by saying to his soldiers,
‘My friends, you are Frenchmen, and I have the honor
of being your commander; let us never abandon an unfortunate
family in the Desert, so long as we are able to be of use
to them.’ This brief, but energetic speech, caused those to
blush who wished to leave us. All then joined with the old
captain saying they would not leave us on condition we would
walk quicker. M. Begnere and his soldiers replied, they did
not wish to impose conditions on those to whom they were desirous
of doing a favor; and the unfortunate family of Picard
were again on the road with the whole caravan.

About noon hunger was felt so powerfully among us, that it
was agreed upon to go to the small hills of sand which were
near the coast, to see if any herbs could be found fit for eating;
but we only got poisonous plants, among which were
various kinds of euphorbium. Convolvaluses of a bright green
carpeted the downs; but on tasting their leaves we found them
as bitter as gall. The caravan rested in this place, while
several officers went farther into the interior. They came
back in about an hour, loaded with wild purslain, which they
distributed to each of us. Every one instantly devoured his
bunch of herbage, without leaving the smallest branch: but
as our hunger was far from being satisfied with this small allowance,
the soldiers and sailors betook themselves to look for
more. They soon brought back a sufficient quantity, which
was equally distributed, and devoured upon the spot, so delicious
had hunger made that food to us. For myself, I declare
I never eat anything with so much appetite in all my life.
Water was also found in this place, but it was of an abominable
taste. After this truly frugal repast, we continued our
route. The heat was insupportable in the last degree. The
sands on which we trod were burning, nevertheless several of
[Pg 114]
us walked on these scorching coals without shoes; and the
females had nothing but their hair for a cap. When we reached
the sea-shore, we all ran and lay down among the waves.
After remaining there some time, we took our route along the
wet beach. On our journey we met with several large crabs,
which were of considerable service to us. Every now and
then we endeavored to slake our thirst by sucking their crooked
claws. About nine at night we halted between two pretty
high sand hills. After a short talk concerning our misfortunes,
all seemed desirous of passing the night in this place,
notwithstanding we heard on every side the roaring of leopards.
We deliberated on the means of securing ourselves, but sleep
soon put an end to our fears. Scarcely had we slumbered a
few hours when a terrible roaring of wild beasts awoke us, and
made us stand on our defence. It was a beautiful moonlight
night, and in spite of my fears and the horrible aspect of the
place, nature never appeared so sublime to me before. Instantly
something was announced that resembled a lion. This
information was listened to with the greatest emotion. Every
one being desirous of verifying the truth, fixed upon something
he thought to be the object: one believed he saw the long
teeth of the king of the forest; another was convinced his
mouth was already open to devour us: several, armed with
muskets, aimed at the animal, and advancing a few steps, discovered
the pretended lion to be nothing more than a shrub
fluctuating in the breeze. However, the howlings of ferocious
beasts had so frightened us, being yet heard at intervals that
we again sought the sea-shore, on purpose to continue our
route towards the south.

Some of our companions were desirous of making observations
in the interior, and they did not go in vain. They instantly
returned, and told us they had seen two Arab tents
upon a slight rising ground. We instantly directed our steps
thither. We had to pass great downs of sand very slippery,
and arrived in a large plain streaked here and there with verdure;
but the turf was so hard and piercing, we could scarcely
walk over it without wounding our feet. Our presence in
these frightful solitudes put to flight three or four Moorish
shepherds, who herded a small flock of sheep and goats in an
oasis. At last we arrived at the tents after which we were
searching, and found in them three Mooresses and two little
children, who did not seem in the least frightened by our visit.
A negro servant, belonging to an officer of marine, interpreted
between us; and the good women, who, when they had
heard of our misfortunes, offered us millet and water for
[Pg 115]
payment. We bought a little of that grain at the rate of thirty
pence a handful; the water was got for three francs a glass;
it was very good, and none grudged the money it cost. As a
glass of water, with a handful of millet, was but a poor dinner
for famished people, my father bought two kids, which they
would not give him under twenty piastres. We immediately
killed them, and our Mooresses boiled them in a large kettle.
While our repast was preparing, my father, who could not afford
the whole of the expense, got others to contribute to it,
but an old officer of marine, who was to have been captain of
the port of Senegal, was the only person who refused, notwithstanding
he had about him nearly three thousand francs which
he boasted of in the end. Several soldiers and sailors had
seen him count it in round pieces of gold, on coming ashore
on the Desert, and reproached him for his sordid avarice; but
he seemed insensible to their reproaches, nor eat the less of his
portion of the kid with his companions in misfortune.

When about to resume our journey, we saw several Moors
approaching us armed with lances. Our people instantly
seized their arms, and put themselves in readiness to defend
us in case of an attack. Two officers, followed by several
soldiers and sailors, with our interpreter, advanced to discover
their intentions. They instantly returned with the Moors,
who said, that far from wishing to do us harm, they had come
to offer us their assistance, and to conduct us to Senegal.
This offer being accepted of with gratitude by all of us, the
Moors, of whom we had been so afraid, became our protectors
and friends, verifying the old proverb, there are good people
everywhere! As the camp of the Moors was at some considerable
distance from where we were, we set off altogether
to reach it before night. After having walked about two
leagues through the burning sands, we found ourselves again
upon the shore. Towards night, our conductors made us
strike again into the interior, saying we were near their camp
which is called in their language Berkelet. But the short
distance of the Moors was found very long by the females and
the children, on account of the downs of sand which we had to
ascend and descend every instant, also of prickly shrubs over
which we were frequently obliged to walk. Those who were
barefooted, felt most severely at this time the want of their
shoes. I myself lost among the bushes various shreds of my
dress, and my feet and legs were all streaming with blood.
At length, after two long hours of walking and suffering, we
arrived at the camp of that tribe to which belonged our Arab
[Pg 116]
conductors. We had scarcely got into the camp, when the
dogs, the children, and the Moorish women, began to annoy
us. Some of them threw sand in our eyes, others amused
themselves by snatching at our hair, on pretence of wishing
to examine it. This pinched us, that spit upon us; the dogs
bit our legs, whilst the old harpies cut the buttons from the
officers coats, or endeavored to take away the lace. Our
conductors, however, had pity on us, and chased away the
dogs and the curious crowd, who had already made us suffer
as much as the thorns which had torn our feet. The chiefs
of the camp, our guides, and some good women, at last set
about getting us some supper. Water in abundance was
given us without payment, and they sold us fish dried in the
sun, and some bowlsful of sour milk, at a reasonable price.

We found a Moor in the camp who had previously known my
father at Senegal, and who spoke a little French. As soon as
he recognised him, he cried, ‘Tiens toi Picard! ni a pas conneitre
moi Amet?’ Hark ye, Picard, know you not Amet?
We were all struck with astonishment at these French words
coming from the mouth of a Moor. My father recollected
having employed long ago a young goldsmith at Senegal, and
discovering the Moor Amet to be the same person, shook him
by the hand. After that good fellow had been made acquainted
with our shipwreck, and to what extremities our unfortunate
family had been reduced, he could not refrain from tears;
and this perhaps was the first time a Mussulman had ever
wept over the misfortunes of a Christian. Amet was not satisfied
with deploring our hard fate; he was desirous of proving
that he was generous and humane, and instantly distributed
among us a large quantity of milk and water free of any
charge. He also raised for our family a large tent of the
skins of camels, cattle and sheep, because his religion would
not allow him to lodge with Christians under the same roof.
The place appeared very dark, and the obscurity made us uneasy.
Amet and our conductors lighted a large fire to quiet
us; and at last, bidding us good night, and retiring to his tent,
said, ‘Sleep in peace; the God of the Christians is also the
God of the Mussulman.’

We had resolved to quit this truly hospitable place early in
the morning; but during the night, some people who had probably
too much money, imagined the Moors had taken us to
their camp to plunder us. They communicated their fears to
others, and pretending that the Moors, who walked up and
down among their flocks, and cried from time to time to keep
[Pg 117]
away the ferocious beasts, had already given the signal for
pursuing and murdering us. Instantly a general panic seized
all our people, and they wished to set off forthwith. My father,
although he well knew the perfidy of the inhabitants of
the Desert, endeavored to assure them we had nothing to fear,
because the Arabs were too frightened for the people of Senegal,
who would not fail to avenge us if we were insulted; but
nothing could quiet their apprehensions, and we had to take
the route during the middle of the night. The Moors being
soon acquainted with our fears, made us all kinds of protestations;
and seeing we persisted in quitting the camp, offered
us asses to carry us as far as the Senegal. These beasts of
burden were hired at the rate of 12 francs a day, for each head,
and we took our departure under the guidance of those Moors
who had before conducted us to the camp. Amet’s wife being
unwell, he could not accompany us, but recommended us
strongly to our guides. My father was able to hire only two
asses for the whole of our family; and as it was numerous, my
sister Caroline, my cousin, and myself, were obliged to crawl
along, whilst my unfortunate father followed in the suite of the
caravan, which in truth went much quicker than we did.

A short distance from the camp, the brave and compassionate
Capt. Begnere, seeing we still walked, obliged us to accept
of the ass he had hired for himself, saying he would not
ride when young ladies exhausted with fatigue, followed on
foot. The King afterwards honorably recompensed this
worthy officer, who ceased not to regard our unfortunate
family with a care and attention I will never forget.

During the remainder of the night, we travelled in a
manner sufficiently agreeable, mounting alternately the ass of
Captain Begnere.

At five in the morning of the 11th of July we regained the
sea-shore. Our asses, fatigued with the long journey among
the sand, ran instantly and lay down among the breakers, in
spite of our utmost exertions to prevent them. This caused
several of us to take a bath we wished not; I was myself held
under my ass in the water, and had great difficulty in saving
one of my young brothers who was floating away. But, in
the end as this incident had no unfortunate issue, we laughed,
and continued our route, some on foot and some on the capricious
asses. Towards ten o’clock, perceiving a ship out
at sea, we attached a white handkerchief to the muzzle of a
gun, waiving it in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of
seeing it was noticed. The ship having approached
[Pg 118]
sufficiently near the coast, the Moors who were with us threw
themselves into the sea and swam to it. It must be said we
had very wrongfully supposed that these people had had a design
against us, for their devotion could not appear greater
than when five of them darted through the waves to endeavor
to communicate between us and the ship, notwithstanding it
was still a good quarter of a league distant from where we
stood on the beach. In about half an hour we saw these good
Moors returning, making float before them three small barrels.
Arrived on shore, one of them gave a letter to M. Espiau
from M. Parnajon. This gentleman was the captain of
the Argus brig, sent to seek after the raft, and to give us provisions.
This letter announced a small barrel of biscuit, a
tierce of wine, a half tierce of brandy, and a Dutch cheese.
O fortunate event! We were very desirous of testifying our
gratitude to the generous commander of the brig, but he instantly
set out and left us. We staved the barrels which held
our small stock of provisions, and made a distribution.—Each
of us had a biscuit, about a glass of wine, a half glass
of brandy, and a small morsel of cheese. Each drank his
allowance of wine at one gulp; the brandy was not even despised
by the ladies. I however preferred quantity to quality,
and exchanged my ration of brandy for that of wine. To
describe our joy, while taking this repast, is impossible. Exposed
to the fierce rays of a vertical sun; exhausted by a long
train of suffering; deprived for a long while, the use of any
kind of spirituous liquors, when our portions of water, wine
and brandy mingled in our stomachs we became like insane
people.

Life, which had lately been a great burden, now became precious
to us. Foreheads, lowering and sulky, began to unwrinkle;
enemies became most brotherly; the avaricious endeavored
to forget their selfishness and cupidity; the children
smiled for the first time since our shipwreck; in a word, every
one seemed to be born again from a condition, melancholy
and dejected. I even believe the sailors sung the praises of
their mistresses.

This journey was the most fortunate for us. Some short
while after our delicious meal, we saw several Moors approaching,
who brought milk and butter, so that we had refreshments
in abundance. It is true we paid a little dear for
them; the glass of milk cost not less than three francs. After
reposing about three hours, our caravan proceeded on its
route.

[Pg 119]
About six in the evening, my father finding himself extremely
fatigued, wished to rest himself. We allowed the
caravan to move on, while my step-mother and myself remained
near him, and the rest of the family followed with
their asses. We all three soon fell asleep. When we awoke
we were astonished at not seeing our companions. The sun
was sinking in the west. We saw several Moors approaching
us, mounted on camels; and my father reproached himself
for having slept so long.

Their appearance gave us great uneasiness, and we wished
much to escape from them, but my step-mother and myself
fell quite exhausted. The Moors with long beards having
come quite close to us, one of them alighted and addressed
us in the following words. “Be comforted, ladies; under
the costume of an Arab, you see an Englishman who is desirous
of serving you. Having heard at Senegal that Frenchmen
were thrown ashore upon these deserts, I thought my
presence might be of some service to them, as I was acquainted
with several of the princes of this arid country.” These
noble words from the mouth of a man we had at first taken to
be a Moor, instantly quieted our fears.

Recovering from our fright, we rose and expressed to the
philanthropic Englishman the gratitude we felt. Mr. Carnet,
the name of the generous Briton, told us that our caravan
which he had met, waited for us at about the distance of two
leagues. He then gave us some biscuit, which we eat; and
we then set off together to join our companions. Mr. Carnet
wished us to mount his camels, but my step-mother and myself,
being unable to persuade ourselves we could sit securely
on their hairy haunches, continued to walk on the moist sand,
whilst my father, Mr. Carnet and the Moors who accompanied
him, proceeded on the camels. We soon reached a little
river, called in the country Marigot des Maringoins. We
wished to drink of it, but found it as salt as the sea. Mr.
Carnet desired us to have patience, and we should find some
at the place where our caravan waited. We forded that river
knee deep.

At last, having walked about an hour, we rejoined our companions,
who had found several wells of fresh water. It was
resolved to pass the night in this place, which seemed less
arid than any we saw near us. The soldiers, being requested
to go and seek wood to light a fire, for the purpose of frightening
the ferocious beasts which were heard roaring around
us, refused; but Mr. Carnet assured us, that the Moors who
[Pg 120]
were with him knew well how to keep all such intruders from
our camp. In truth, during the whole of the night these good
Arabs promenaded round our caravan, uttering cries at intervals
like those we had heard in the camp of the generous
Amet.

We passed a very good night, and at four in the morning
continued our route along the shore, Mr. Carnet left us to
endeavor to procure some provisions. Till then our asses
had been quite docile; but, annoyed with their riders so long
upon their backs, they refused to go forward. A fit took possession
of them, and all at the same instant threw their riders
on the ground, or among the bushes. The Moors, however,
who accompanied us, assisted to catch our capricious animals,
who had nearly scampered off, and replaced us on the hard
backs of these headstrong creatures. At noon the heat became
so violent, that even the Moors themselves bore it with
difficulty. We then determined on finding some shade behind
the high mounds of sand which appeared in the interior;
but how were we to reach them! The sands could not be
hotter. We had been obliged to leave our asses on the shore,
for they would neither advance nor recede. The greater
part of us had neither shoes nor hats; notwithstanding we
were obliged to go forward almost a long league to find a little
shade. The heat reflected by the sands of the Desert
could be compared to nothing but the mouth of an oven at the
moment of drawing out the bread; nevertheless, we endured
it; but not without cursing those who had been the occasion
of all our misfortunes. Arrived behind the heights for which
we searched, we stretched ourselves under the Mimos-gommier,
(the acacia of the Desert), several broke branches of the
asclepia (swallow-wort), and made themselves a shade. But
whether from want of air, or the heat of the ground on which
we were seated, we were nearly all suffocated. I thought
my last hour was come. Already my eyes saw nothing but a
dark cloud, when a person of the name of Berner, who was to
have been a smith at Senegal, gave me a boot containing some
muddy water, which he had had the precaution to keep. I
seized the elastic vase, and hastened to swallow the liquid in
large draughts.

One of my companions equally tormented with thirst, envious
of the pleasure I seemed to feel, and which I felt effectually,
drew the foot from the boot, and seized it in his turn,
but it availed him nothing. The water which remained was
so disgusting, that he could not drink it, and spilled it on the
[Pg 121]
ground. Captain Begnere, who was present, judging, by the
water which fell, how loathsome must that have been which I
had drank, offered me some crumbs of biscuit, which he had
kept most carefully in his pocket. I chewed that mixture of
bread, dust and tobacco, but I could not swallow it, and gave
it all masticated to one of my young brothers, who had fallen
from inanimation.

We were about to quit this furnace, when we saw our generous
Englishman approaching, who brought us provisions.—At
this sight I felt my strength revive, and ceased to desire
death, which I had before called on to release me from my
sufferings. Several Moors accompanied Mr. Carnet, and every
one was loaded. On their arrival we had water, with
rice and dried fish in abundance. Every one drank his allowance
of water, but had not ability to eat, although the rice
was excellent. We were all anxious to return to the sea,
that we might bathe ourselves, and the caravan put itself on
the road to the breakers of Sahara. After an hour’s march
of great suffering, we regained the shore, as well as our asses,
who were lying in the water. We rushed among the
waves, and after a bath of half an hour, we reposed ourselves
upon the beach. My cousin and I went to stretch ourselves
upon a small rising ground, where we were shaded with some
old clothes which we had with us. My cousin was clad in an
officer’s uniform, the lace of which strongly attracted the
eyes of Mr. Carnet’s Moors. Scarcely had we lain down,
when one of them, thinking we were asleep, came to endeavor
to steal it; but seeing we were awake, contented himself
by looking at us very steadily.

About three in the morning, a northwest wind having
sprang up and a little refreshed us, our caravan continued its
route; our generous Englishman again taking the task of
procuring us provisions. At four o’clock the sky became
overcast, and we heard thunder in the distance. We all expected
a great tempest, which happily did not take place.—Near
seven we reached the spot where we were to wait for
Mr. Carnet, who came to us with a bullock he had purchased.
Then quitting the shore, we went into the interior to seek a
place to cook our supper. We fixed our camp beside a
small wood of acacias, near to which were several wells or
cisterns of fresh water. Our ox was instantly killed, skinned,
cut to pieces and distributed. A huge fire was kindled, and
each was occupied in dressing his meal. At this time I
caught a smart fever; notwithstanding I could not help laughing
[Pg 122]
at seeing every one seated round a large fire holding his
piece of beef on the point of his bayonet, a sabre or some
sharp-pointed stick. The flickering of the flames on the different
faces, sun-burned and covered with long beards, rendered
more visible by the darkness of the night, joined to the
noise of the waves and the roaring of ferocious beasts, which
we heard in the distance, presented a spectacle at once laughable
and imposing.

While these thoughts were passing across my mind, sleep
overpowered my senses. Being awakened in the middle of
the night, I found my portion of beef in the shoes which an
old sailor had lent me for walking among the thorns; although
it was a little burned and smelt strongly of the dish in which
it was contained, I eat a good part of it, and gave the rest to
my friend the sailor. That seaman, seeing I was ill, offered
to exchange my meat for some which he had had the address
to boil in a small tin-box. I prayed him to give me a little
water if he had any, and he instantly went and fetched me
some in his hat. My thirst was so great that I drank it out
of his nasty hat without any repugnance.

At nine o’clock we met upon the shore a large flock herded
by young Moors. These shepherds sold us milk, and one
of them offered to lend my father an ass for a knife which he
had seen him take out of his pocket. My father having accepted
the proposal, the Moor left his companion to accompany
us as far as Senegal, from which we were yet two good
leagues.

Suddenly we left the shore. Our companions appearing
quite transported with joy, some of us ran forward, and having
gained a slight rising ground, discovered the Senegal at
no great distance.

We hastened our march, and for the first time since our
shipwreck, a smiling picture presented itself to our view.—The
trees always green, with which that noble river is shaded,
the humming birds, the red birds, the paroquets, the promerops,
&c. who flitted among their long yielding branches,
caused in us emotions difficult to express. We could not satiate
our eyes with gazing on the beauties of this place, verdure
being so enchanting to the sight, especially after having
travelled through the Desert. Before reaching the river we
had to descend a little hill covered with thorny bushes. My
ass stumbling threw me into the midst of one, and I tore myself
in several places, but was easily consoled when I at
length found myself on the banks of a river of fresh water.
[Pg 123]
Every one having quenched his thirst, we stretched ourselves
under the shade of a small grove, while the beneficent Mr.
Carnet and two of our officers set forward to Senegal to announce
our arrival, and to get us boats. In the meanwhile
some took a little repose, and others were engaged in dressing
the wounds with which they were covered.

At two in the afternoon, we saw a small boat beating
against the current of the stream with oars. It soon reached
the spot where we were. Two Europeans landed, saluted
our caravans, and inquired for my father. One of them
said he came on the part of MM. Artigue and Laboure, inhabitants
of Senegal, to offer assistance to our family; the
other added, that he had not waited for the boats which were
getting ready for us at the island of St. Louis, knowing too
well what would be our need. We were desirous of thanking
them, but they instantly ran off to the boat and brought
us provisions, which my father’s old friends had sent him.—They
placed before us a large basket containing several
loaves, cheese, a bottle of Madeira, a bottle of filtered water
and dresses for my father. Every one, who, during our
journey, had taken any interest in our unfortunate family, and
especially the brave Captain Begnere, had a share of our
provisions. We experienced a real satisfaction in partaking
with them, and giving them this small mark of our gratitude.

A young aspirant of marine, who had refused us a glass of
water in the Desert, pressed with hunger, begged of us some
bread; he got it, also a small glass of Madeira.

It was four o’clock before the boats of the government arrived,
and we all embarked. Biscuit and wine were found in
each of them, and all were refreshed.

That in which were our family was commanded by M. Artigue,
captain of the port, and one of those who had sent us
provisions. My father and he embraced as two old friends
who had not seen one another for eight years, and congratulated
themselves that they had been permitted to meet once
more before they died. We had already made a league upon
the river when a young navy clerk (M. Mollien) was suddenly
taken ill. We put him ashore, and left him to the care of a
negro to conduct him to Senegal when he should recover.

It would be in vain for me to paint the various emotions of
my mind at that delicious moment. I am bold to say all the
colony, if we accept MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys, were
at the port to receive us from our boats. M. Artigue going
on shore first to acquaint the English governor of our arrival,
[Pg 124]
met him coming to us on horseback, followed by our generous
conductor Mr. Carnet, and several superior officers.—We
went on shore carrying our brothers and sisters in our
arms. My father presented us to the English governor, who
had alighted; he appeared to be sensibly affected with our
misfortunes, the females and children chiefly excited his commiseration.
And the native inhabitants and Europeans tenderly
shook the hands of the unfortunate people; the negro
slaves even seemed to deplore our disastrous fate.

The governor placed the most sickly of our companions in
a hospital; various inhabitants of the colony received others
into their houses; M. Artigue obligingly took charge of our
family. Arriving at his house we there found his wife, two
ladies and an English lady, who begged to be allowed to assist
us. Taking my sister Caroline and myself, she conducted
us to her house, and presented us to her husband, who received
us in the most affable manner; after which she led us
to her dressing-room, where we were combed, cleansed, and
dressed by the domestic negresses, and were most obligingly
furnished with linen from her own wardrobe, the whiteness of
which was strongly contrasted with our sable countenances.
In the midst of my misfortunes my soul had preserved all its
strength; but this sudden change of situation affected me so
much, that I thought my intellectual faculties were forsaking
me. We were so confused by our agitation, that we scarcely
heard the questions which were put to us, having constantly before
our eyes the foaming waves and the immense tract of
sand over which we had passed.

After the boats had disappeared, the consternation became
extreme. All the horrors of thirst and famine passed before
our imagination; besides, we had to contend with a treacherous
element, which already covered the half of our bodies.—The
[Pg 125]
deep stupor of the soldiers and sailors instantly changed
to despair. All saw their inevitable destruction, and expressed
by their moans the dark thoughts which brooded in their
minds. Our words were at first unavailing to quiet their
fears, which we participated with them, but which a greater
strength of mind enabled us to dissemble. At last an unmoved
countenance, and our proffered consolations, quieted them
by degrees, but could not entirely dissipate the terror with
which they were seized.

When tranquility was a little restored, we began to search
about the raft for the charts, the compass, and the anchor,
which we presumed had been placed upon it, after what we
had been told at the time of quitting the frigate.

These things of the first importance, had not been placed
upon our machine. Above all, the want of a compass the
most alarmed us, and we gave vent to our rage and vengeance.
M. Correard then remembered he had seen one in the hands
of the principal workmen under his command; he spoke to
the man, who replied, ‘Yes, yes, I have it with me.’ This
information transported us with joy, and we believed that our
safety depended upon this futile resource; it was about the
size of a crown-piece, and very incorrect. Those who have
not been in situations in which their existence was exposed to
extreme peril, can have but a faint knowledge of the price
one attaches then to the simplest objects—with what avidity
one seizes the slightest means capable of mitigating the rigor
of that fate against which they contend. The compass was
given to the commander of the raft, but an accident deprived
us of it forever; it fell and disappeared between the pieces of
wood which formed our machine. We had kept it but a few
hours, and, after its loss, had nothing to guide us but the rising
and setting of the sun.

We had all gone afloat without taking any food. Hunger
beginning to be imperiously felt, we mixed our paste of sea-biscuit
with a little wine, and distributed it thus prepared.—Such
was our first meal, and the best we had, during our stay
upon the raft.

An order, according to our numbers, was established for
the distribution of our miserable provisions. The ration of
wine was fixed at three quarters a day. We will speak no
more of the biscuit, it having been entirely consumed at the
first distribution. The day passed away sufficiently tranquil.
We talked of the means by which we would save ourselves;
we spoke of it as a certain circumstance, which reanimated
[Pg 126]
our courage; and we sustained that of the soldiers, by cherishing
in them the hope of being able, in a short time, to revenge
themselves on those who had abandoned us. This
hope of vengeance, it must be avowed, equally animated us
all; and we poured out a thousand imprecations against those
who had left us a prey to so much misery and danger.

The officer who commanded the raft being unable to move,
M. Savigny took upon himself the duty of erecting the mast.
He caused them to cut in two one of the poles of the frigate’s
masts, and fixed it with the rope which had served to
tow us, and of which we made stays and shrouds. It was
placed on the anterior third of the raft. We put up for a sail
the main-top-gallant, which trimmed very well, but was of
very little use, except when the wind served from behind; and
to keep the raft in this course, we were obliged to trim the
sail as if the breeze blew athwart us.

In the evening, our hearts and our prayers, by a feeling
natural to the unfortunate, were turned towards Heaven.—Surrounded
by inevitable dangers, we addressed that invisible
Being who has established, and who maintains the order
of the universe. Our vows were fervent, and we experienced
from our prayers the cheering influence of hope. It is
necessary to have been in similar situations, before one can
rightly imagine what a charm is the sublime idea of a God
protecting the unfortunate to the heart of the sufferer.

One consoling thought still soothed our imaginations. We
persuaded ourselves that the little divisions had gone to the
isle of Arguin, and that after it had set a part of its people
on shore, the rest would return to our assistance; we endeavored
to impress this idea on our soldiers and sailors, which
quieted them. The night came without our hope being realized;
the wind freshened, and the sea was considerably swelled.
What a horrible night! The thought of seeing the
boats on the morrow, a little consoled our men, the greater
part of whom, being unaccustomed to the sea, fell on one another
at each movement of the raft. M. Savigny, seconded
by some people who still preserved their presence of mind
amidst the disorder, stretched cords across the raft, by which
the men held, and were better able to resist the swell of the
sea; some were even obliged to fasten themselves. In the
middle of the night the weather was very rough; huge waves
burst upon us, sometimes overturning us with great violence.
The cries of the men, mingled with the flood, whilst the terrible
sea raised us at every instant from the raft, and threatened
[Pg 127]
to sweep us away. This scene was rendered still more
terrible, by the horrors inspired by the darkness of the night.
Suddenly we believed we saw fires in the distance at intervals.

We had had the precaution to hang at the top of the mast,
the gunpowder and pistols which we had brought from the
frigate. We made signals by burning a large quantity of
cartridges; we even fired some pistols, but it seems the fire
we saw, was nothing but an error of vision, or, perhaps,
nothing more than the sparkling of the waves.

We struggled with death during the whole of the night,
holding firmly by the ropes which were made very secure.—Tossed
by the waves from the back to the front, and from the
front to the back, and sometimes precipitated into the sea;
floating between life and death, mourning our misfortunes,
certain of perishing; we disputed, nevertheless, the remainder
of our existence, with that cruel element which threatened
to engulf us. Such was our condition till daybreak. At
every instant were heard the lamentable cries of the soldiers
and sailors; they prepared for death, bidding farewell to one
another, imploring the protection of Heaven, and addressing
fervent prayers to God. Every one made vows to him, in
spite of the certainty of never being able to accomplish them.
Frightful situation! How is it possible to have any idea of it,
which will not fall far short of the reality!

Towards seven in the morning the sea fell a little, the
wind blew with less fury; but what a scene presented itself
to our view! Ten or twelve unfortunates, having their inferior
extremities fixed in the openings between the pieces of
the raft, had perished by being unable to disengage themselves;
several others were swept away by the violence of
the sea. At the hour of repast, we took the numbers anew;
we had lost twenty men. We will not affirm that this was the
exact number; for we perceived some soldiers who, to have
more than their share, took rations for two, and even three;
we were so huddled together that we found it absolutely impossible
to prevent this abuse.

In the midst of these horrors a touching scene of filial piety
drew our tears. Two young men raised and recognized
their father, who had fallen, and was lying insensible among
the feet of the people. They believed him at first dead, and
their despair was expressed in the most affecting manner. It
was perceived, however, that he still breathed, and every assistance
was rendered for his recovery in our power. He
[Pg 128]
slowly revived, and was restored to life, and to the prayers of
his sons, who supported him closely folded in their arms.—Whilst
our hearts were softened by this affecting episode in
our melancholy adventures, we had soon to witness the sad
spectacle of a dark contrast. Two ship-boys and a baker
feared not to seek death, and threw themselves into the sea,
after having bid farewell to their companions in misfortune.
Already the minds of our people were singularly altered;
some believed that they saw land, others ships which were
coming to save us; all talked aloud of their fallacious visions.

We lamented the loss of our unfortunate companions. At
this moment we were far from anticipating the still more terrible
scene which took place on the following night; far from
that, we enjoyed a positive satisfaction so well were we persuaded
that the boats would return to our assistance. The
day was fine, and the most perfect tranquility reigned all the
while on our raft. The evening came and no boats appeared.
Despondency began again to seize our men, and then a spirit
of insubordination manifested itself in cries of rage. The
voice of the officers was entirely disregarded. Night fell
rapidly in, the sky was obscured by dark clouds; the wind
which, during the whole day, had blown rather violently, became
furious and swelled the sea, which in an instant became
very rough.

The preceding night had been frightful, but this was more
so. Mountains of water covered us at every instant, and
burst with fury into the midst of us. Very fortunately we
had the wind from behind, and the strongest of the sea was a
little broken by the rapidity with which we were driven before
it. We were impelled towards the land. The men,
from the violence of the sea, were hurried from the back to
the front; we were obliged to keep to the centre, the firmest
part of the raft, and those who could not get there almost all
perished. Before and behind the waves dashed impetuously,
and swept away the men in spite of all their resistance. At
the centre the pressure was such, that some unfortunates
were suffocated by the weight of their comrades, who fell upon
them at every instant. The officers kept by the foot of the
little mast, and were obliged every moment to call to those
around them to go to the one or the other side to avoid the
waves; for the sea coming nearly athwart us, gave our raft
nearly a perpendicular position, to counteract which, they
were forced to throw themselves upon the side raised by the
sea.

[Pg 129]
The soldiers and sailors, frightened by the presence of almost
inevitable danger, doubted not that they had reached their
last hour. Firmly believing they were lost, they resolved to
soothe their last moments by drinking till they lost their senses.
We had no power to oppose this disorder. They seized
a cask which was in the centre of the raft, made a little hole
in the end of it, and, with small tin cups, took each a pretty
large quantity; but they were obliged to cease, for the sea
water rushed into the hole they had made. The fumes of the
wine failed not to disorder their brains, already weakened by
the presence of danger and want of food. Thus excited,
these men became deaf to the voice of reason. They wished
to involve, in one common ruin, all their companions in
misfortune. They avowedly expressed their intention of freeing
themselves from their officers, who they said, wished to
oppose their design; and then to destroy the raft, by cutting
the ropes which united its different parts. Immediately after
they resolved to put their plans into execution. One of them
advanced upon the side of the raft with a boarding axe, and
began to cut the cords. This was the signal of revolt. We
stepped forward to prevent these insane mortals, and he who
was armed with the hatchet, with which he even threatened
an officer, fell the first victim; a stroke of a sabre terminated
his existence.

This man was an Asiatic, and a soldier in a colonial regiment.
Of a colossal stature, short hair, a nose extremely
large, an enormous mouth and dark complexion, he made a
most hideous appearance. At first he had placed himself in
the middle of the raft, and, at each blow of his fist, knocked
down every one who opposed him; he inspired the greatest
terror, and none durst approach him. Had there been six
such, our destruction would have been certain.

Some men anxious to prolong their existence, armed and
united themselves with those who wished to preserve the raft;
among this number were some subaltern officers and many
passengers. The rebels drew their sabres, and those who
had none armed themselves with knives. They advanced in
a determined manner upon us; we stood on our defence; the
attack commenced. Animated by despair, one of them aimed
a stroke at an officer; the rebel instantly fell, pierced with
wounds. This firmness awed them for an instant, but diminished
nothing of their rage. They ceased to advance, and
withdrew, presenting to us a front bristling with sabres and
bayonets, to the back part of the raft to execute their plan.—One
[Pg 130]
of them feigned to rest himself on the small railings on
the sides of the raft, and with a knife began cutting the cords.
Being told by a servant, one of us sprung upon him. A soldier,
wishing to defend him, struck at the officer with his knife,
which only pierced his coat; the officer wheeled round, seized
his adversary, and threw both him and his comrade into
the sea.

There had been as yet but partial affairs; the combat became
general. Some one cried to lower the sail; a crowd of
infuriated mortals threw themselves in an instant upon the
haulyards and the shrouds, and cut them. The fall of the
mast almost broke the thigh of a captain of infantry, who fell
insensible. He was seized by the soldiers, who threw him
into the sea. We saved him, and placed him on a barrel,
whence he was taken by the rebels, who wished to put out
his eyes with a penknife. Exasperated by so much brutality,
we no longer restrained ourselves, but pushed in upon them,
and charged them with fury. Sword in hand we traversed
the line which the soldiers had formed, and many paid with
their lives the errors of their revolt. Various passengers,
during these cruel moments, evinced the greatest courage
and coolness.

M. Correard fell into a sort of swoon; but hearing at every
instant the cries, To Arms! with us comrades; we are
lost! joined with the groans and imprecations of the wounded
and dying, was soon roused from his lethargy. All this horrible
tumult speedily made him comprehend how necessary it
was to be upon his guard. Armed with his sabre, he gathered
together some of his workmen on the front of the raft, and
there charged them to hurt no one, unless they were attacked.
He almost always remained with them; and several
times they had to defend themselves against the rebels, who,
swimming round to that point of the raft, placed M. Correard
and his little troop between two dangers, and made their position
very difficult to defend. At every instant he was opposed
to men armed with knives, sabres and bayonets. Many
had carabines which they wielded as clubs. Every effort
was made to stop them, by holding them off at the point of
their swords; but, in spite of the repugnance they experienced
in fighting with their wretched countrymen, they were compelled
to use their arms without mercy. Many of the mutineers
attacked with fury, and they were obliged to repel them
in the same manner. Some of the laborers received severe
wounds in this action. Their commander could show a great
[Pg 131]
number received in the different engagements. At last their
united efforts prevailed in dispersing this mass who had attacked
them with such fury.

During this combat, M. Correard was told by one of his
workmen who remained faithful, that one of their comrades,
named Dominique, had gone over to the rebels, and that they
had seized and thrown him into the sea. Immediately forgetting
the fault and treason of this man, he threw himself in at
the place whence the voice of the wretch was heard calling
for assistance, seized him by the hair, and had the good fortune
to restore him on board. Dominique had got several sabre
wounds in a charge, one of which had laid open his head.
In spite of the darkness we found out the wound, which seemed
very large.

One of the workmen gave his handkerchief to bind and
stop the blood. Our care recovered the wretch; but, when
he had collected strength, the ungrateful Dominique, forgetting
at once his duty and the signal service which we had
rendered him, went and rejoined the rebels. So much baseness
and insanity did not go unrevenged; and soon after he
found, in a fresh assault, that death from which he was not
worthy to be saved, but which he might in all probability have
avoided, if, true to honor and gratitude, he had remained
among us.

Just at the moment we finished dressing the wounds of
Dominique, another voice was heard. It was that of the unfortunate
female who was with us on the raft, and whom the
infuriated beings had thrown into the sea, as well as her husband,
who had defended her with courage. M. Correard
in despair at seeing two unfortunates perish, whose pitiful
cries, especially the woman’s pierced his heart, seized a large
rope which he found on the front of the raft, which he fastened
round his middle, and throwing himself a second time into
the sea, was again so fortunate as to save the woman, who invoked,
with all her might, the assistance of our Lady of Land.
Her husband was rescued at the same time by the head
workman, Lavilette. We laid these unfortunates upon the dead
bodies, supporting their backs with a barrel. In a short
while they recovered their senses. The first thing the woman
did was to acquaint herself with the name of the person who
saved her, and to express to him her liveliest gratitude.—Finding,
doubtless, that her words but ill expressed her feelings,
she recollected she had in her pocket a little snuff, and
instantly offered it to him,—it was all she possessed. Touched
[Pg 132]
with the gift, but unable to use it, M. Correard gave it to
a poor sailor, which served him for three or four days. But
it is impossible for us to describe a still more affecting scene,
the joy this unfortunate couple testified, when they had sufficiently
recovered their senses, at finding that they were both
saved.

The rebels being repulsed, as it has been stated above, left
us a little repose. The moon lighted with her melancholy
rays this disastrous raft, this narrow space, on which were
found united so many torturing anxieties, so many cruel misfortunes,
a madness so insensate, a courage so heroic, and
the most generous, the most amiable sentiments of nature and
humanity.

The man and wife, who had been but a little before stabbed
with swords and bayonets, and thrown both together into a
stormy sea, could scarcely credit their senses when they
found themselves in one another’s arms. The woman was a
native of the Upper Alps, which place she had left twenty-four
years before, and during which time she had followed the
French armies in the campaigns in Italy, and other places, as
a sutler. ‘Therefore preserve my life,’ said she to M. Correard,
‘you see I am an useful woman. Ah! if you knew
how often I have ventured upon the field of battle, and braved
death to carry assistance to our gallant men. Whether they
had money or not I always let them have my goods. Sometimes
a battle would deprive me of my poor debtors; but after
the victory, others would pay me double or triple for what
they had consumed before the engagement. Thus I came in
for a share of their victories.’ Unfortunate woman! she little
knew what a horrible fate awaited her among us! They
felt, they expressed so vividly that happiness which they alas
so shortly enjoyed, that would have drawn tears from the
most obdurate heart. But in that horrible moment, when we
scarcely breathed from the most furious attack,—when we
were obliged to be continually on our guard, not only against
the violence of the men, but a most boisterous sea, few
among us had time to attend to scenes of conjugal affection.

After this second check, the rage of the soldiers was suddenly
appeased, and gave place to the most abject cowardice.
Several threw themselves at our feet, and implored our pardon,
which was instantly granted. Thinking that order was
re-established, we returned to our station on the centre of the
raft, only taking the precaution of keeping our arms. We,
however, had soon to prove the impossibility of counting on
[Pg 133]
the permanence of any honest sentiment in the hearts of
these beings.

It was nearly midnight; and after an hour of apparent tranquility,
the soldiers rose afresh. Their mind was entirely
gone; they ran upon us in despair with knives and sabres in
their hands. As they yet had all their physical strength, and
besides were armed, we were obliged again to stand on our
defence. Their revolt became still more dangerous, as, in
their delirium, they were entirely deaf to the voice of reason.
They attacked us, we charged them in our turn, and immediately
the raft was strewed with their dead bodies. Those of
our adversaries who had no weapons endeavored to tear us
with their sharp teeth. Many of us were cruelly bitten.—M. Savigny
was torn on the legs and the shoulder; he also
received a wound on the right arm which deprived him of the
use of his fourth and little finger for a long while. Many
others were wounded; and many cuts were found in our
clothes from knives and sabres.

One of our workmen was also seized by four of the rebels,
who wished to throw him into the sea. One of them had laid
hold of his right leg, and had bit most unmercifully the tendon
above the heel; others were striking him with great slashes
of their sabres, and with the butt end of their guns, when his
cries made us hasten to his assistance. In this affair, the
brave Lavilette, ex-serjeant of the foot artillery of the Old
Guard, behaved with a courage worthy of the greatest praise.
He rushed upon the infuriated beings in the manner of
M. Correard, and soon snatched the workman from the danger
which menaced him. Some short while after, in a fresh attack
of the rebels, sub-lieutenant Lozach fell into their hands. In
their delirium, they had taken him for Lieutenant Danglas, of
whom we have formerly spoken, and who had abandoned the
raft at the moment when we were quitting the frigate. The
troop, to a man, eagerly sought this officer, who had seen
little service, and whom they reproached for having used them
ill during the time they garrisoned the Isle of Rhe. We believed
this officer lost, but hearing his voice, we soon found it
still possible to save him. Immediately MM. Clairet, Savigny,
L’Heureux, Lavilette, Coudin, Correard, and some workmen,
formed themselves into small platoons, and rushed upon the insurgents
with great impetuosity, overturning every one in their
way, and retook M. Lozach, and placed him on the centre of
the raft.

The preservation of this officer cost us infinite difficulty.
[Pg 134]
Every moment the soldiers demanded he should be delivered
to them, designating him always by the name of Danglas.
We endeavored to make them comprehend their mistake, and
told them that they themselves had seen the person for whom
they sought return on board the frigate. They were insensible
to everything we said; everything before them was Danglas;
they saw him perpetually, and furiously and unceasingly demanded
his head. It was only by force of arms we succeeded
in repressing their rage, and quieting their dreadful cries
of death.

Horrible night! thou shrouded with thy gloomy veil these
frightful combats, over which presided the cruel demon of
despair.

We had also to tremble for the life of M. Coudin. Wounded
and fatigued by the attacks which he had sustained with us,
and in which he had shown a courage superior to everything,
he was resting himself on a barrel, holding in his arms a young
sailor boy of twelve years of age, to whom he had attached
himself. The mutineers seized him with his barrel, and threw
him into the sea with the boy, whom he still held fast. In
spite of his burden, he had the presence of mind to lay hold of
the raft, and to save himself from this extreme peril.

We cannot yet comprehend how a handful of men should
have been able to resist such a number so monstrously insane.
We are sure we were not more than twenty to combat all these
madmen. Let it not, however, be imagined, that in the midst
of all these dangers we had preserved our reason entire.
Fear, anxiety, and the most cruel privations, had greatly
changed our intellectual faculties. But being somewhat less
insane than the unfortunate soldiers, we energetically opposed
their determination of cutting the cords of the raft. Permit
us now to make some observations concerning the different
sensations with which we were affected. During the first day,
M. Griffon entirely lost his senses. He threw himself into the
sea, but M. Savigny saved him with his own hands. His
words were vague and unconnected. A second time he threw
himself in, but, by a sort of instinct, kept hold of the cross
pieces of the raft, and was again saved.

The following is what M. Savigny experienced in the beginning
of the night. His eyes closed in spite of himself, and he
felt a general drowsiness. In this condition the most delightful
visions flitted across his imagination. He saw around him
a country covered with the most beautiful plantations, and
found himself in the midst of objects delightful to his senses.
[Pg 135]
Nevertheless, he reasoned concerning his condition, and felt
that courage alone could withdraw him from this species of
non-existence. He demanded some wine from the master-gunner,
who got it for him, and he recovered a little from this
stupor. If the unfortunates who were assailed with these
primary symptoms had not strength to withstand them, their
death was certain. Some became furious; others threw themselves
into the sea, bidding farewell to their comrades with the
utmost coolness. Some said—‘Fear nothing; I am going to
get you assistance, and will return in a short while.’ In the
midst of this general madness, some wretches were seen rushing
upon their companions, sword in hand, demanding a wing
of a chicken and some bread to appease the hunger which
consumed them; others asked for their hammocks to go, they
said, between the decks of the frigate to take a little repose.
Many believed they were still on the Medusa, surrounded by
the same objects they there saw daily. Some saw ships, and
called to them for assistance, or a fine harbor, in the distance
of which was an elegant city. M. Correard thought he was
travelling through the beautiful fields of Italy. An officer said
to him—‘I recollect we have been abandoned by the boats; but
fear nothing. I am going to write to the governor, and in a few
hours we shall be saved.’ M. Correard replied in the same
tone, and as if he had been in his ordinary condition.—‘Have
you a pigeon to carry your orders with such celerity?’ The
cries and the confusion soon roused us from this languor; but
when tranquility was somewhat restored, we again fell into the
same drowsy condition. On the morrow, we felt as if we had
awoke from a painful dream, and asked our companions, if,
during their sleep, they had not seen combats and heard cries
of despair. Some replied, that the same visions had continually
tormented them, and that they were exhausted with
fatigue. Every one believed he was deceived by the illusions
of a horrible dream.

After these different combats, overcome with toil, with want
of food and sleep, we laid ourselves down and reposed till the
morrow dawned, and showed us the horror of the scene. A
great number in their delirium had thrown themselves into the
sea. We found that sixty or sixty-five had perished during
the night. A fourth part at least, we supposed, had drowned
themselves in despair. We only lost two of our own numbers,
neither of whom were officers. The deepest dejection was
painted on every face; each, having recovered himself, could
[Pg 136]
now feel the horrors of his situation; and some of us, shedding
tears of despair, bitterly deplored the rigor of our fate.

A new misfortune was now revealed to us. During the
tumult, the rebels had thrown into the sea two barrels of wine,
and the only two casks of water which we had upon the raft.
Two casks of wine had been consumed the day before, and
only one was left. We were more than sixty in number, and
we were obliged to put ourselves on half rations.

At break of day, the sea calmed, which permitted us again
to erect our mast. When it was replaced, we made a distribution
of wine. The unhappy soldiers murmured and blamed
us for privations which we equally endured with them.
They fell exhausted. We had taken nothing for forty-eight
hours, and we had been obliged to struggle continually against a
strong sea. We could, like them, hardly support ourselves;
courage alone made us still act. We resolved to employ
every possible means to catch fish, and, collecting all the hooks
and eyes from the soldiers, made fish-hooks of them but all
was of no avail. The currents carried our lines under the
raft, where they got entangled. We bent a bayonet to catch
sharks, one bit at it, and straitened it, and we abandoned
our project. Something was absolutely necessary to sustain
our miserable existence, and we tremble with horror at being
obliged to tell that of which we made use. We feel our pen
fall from our hands: a mortal cold congeals all our members,
and our hair bristles erect on our foreheads. Readers! we
implore you, feel not indignant towards men already overloaded
with misery. Pity their condition, and shed a tear of sorrow
for their deplorable fate.

The wretches, whom death had spared during the disastrous
night we have described, seized upon the dead bodies with
which the raft was covered, cutting them up by slices, which
some even instantly devoured. Many nevertheless refrained.
Almost all the officers were of this number. Seeing that this
monstrous food had revived the strength of those who had
used it, it was proposed to dry it, to make it a little more
palatable. Those who had firmness to abstain from it, took
an additional quantity of wine. We endeavored to eat shoulder-belts
and cartouch-boxes, and contrived to swallow some
small bits of them. Some eat linen; others the leathers of
their hats, on which was a little grease or rather dirt. We had
recourse to many expedients to prolong our miserable existence,
to recount which would only disgust the heart of
humanity.

[Pg 137]
The day was calm and beautiful. A ray of hope beamed for
a moment to quiet our agitation. We still expected to see
the boats or some ships, and addressed our prayers to the
Eternal, on whom we placed our trust. The half of our men
were extremely feeble, and bore upon their faces the stamp
of approaching dissolution. The evening arrived, and we
found no help. The darkness of the third night augmented
our fears, but the wind was still, and the sea less agitated. The
sun of the fourth morning since our departure shone upon our
disaster, and showed us ten or twelve of our companions
stretched lifeless upon the raft. This sight struck us most
forcibly, as it told us we would be soon extended in the same
manner in the same place. We gave their bodies to the sea
for a grave, reserving only one to feed those who, but the day
before, had held his trembling hands, and sworn to him eternal
friendship. This day was beautiful. Our souls, anxious
for more delightful sensations, were in harmony with the aspect
of the heavens, and got again a new ray of hope. Towards
four in the afternoon, an unlooked for event happened which
gave us some consolation. A shoal of flying fish passed under
our raft, and as there were an infinite number of openings between
the pieces which composed it, the fish were entangled
in great quantities. We threw ourselves upon them, and captured
a considerable number. We took about two hundred
and put them in an empty barrel; we opened them as we
caught them, and took out what is called their milt. This food
seemed delicious: but one man would have required a thousand.
Our first emotion was to give to God renewed thanks
for this unhoped for favor.

An ounce of gunpowder having been found in the morning,
was dried in the sun during the day, which was very fine; a
steel, gunflints, and tinder made also a part of the same parcel.
After a good deal of difficulty we set fire to some fragments
of dry linen. We made a large opening in the side of an
empty cask, and placed at the bottom of it several wet things,
and upon this kind of scaffolding we set our fire; all of which
we placed on a barrel that the sea-water might not extinguish
it. We cooked some fish and eat them with extreme avidity;
but our hunger was such, and our portion so small, that we
added to it some of the sacrilegious viands, which the cooking
rendered less revolting. This some of the officers touched
for the first time. From this day we continued to eat it; but
we could no longer dress it, the means of making a fire having
been entirely lost; the barrel having caught fire we
[Pg 138]
extinguished it without being able to preserve anything to rekindle
it on the morrow. The powder and tinder were entirely
gone. This meal gave us all additional strength to support
our fatigues. The night was tolerable, and would have
been happy, had it not been signalized by a new massacre.

Some Spaniards, Italians, and negroes, had formed a plot
to throw us all into the sea. The negroes had told them that
they were very near the shore, and that, when there, they
would enable them to traverse Africa without danger. We
had to take to our arms again, the sailors, who had remained
faithful to us, pointing out to us the conspirators. The first
signal for battle was given by a Spaniard, who, placing himself
behind the mast, holding fast by it, made the sign of the
Cross with one hand, invoking the name of God, and with the
other held a knife. The sailors seized him and threw him
into the sea. An Italian, servant to an officer of the troops,
who was in the plot, seeing all was discovered, armed himself
with the only boarding axe left on the raft, made his retreat
to the front, enveloped himself in a piece of drapery he wore
across his breast, and of his own accord threw himself into the
sea. The rebels rushed forward to avenge their comrades; a
terrible conflict again commenced; both sides fought with desperate
fury; and soon the fatal raft was strewed with dead
bodies and blood, which should have been shed by other
hands, and in another cause. In this tumult we heard them
again demanding, with horrid rage, the head of Lieut. Danglas!
In this assault the unfortunate sutler was a second time
thrown into the sea. M. Coudin, assisted by some workmen,
saved her, to prolong for a little while her torment and her
existence.

In this terrible night Lavilette failed not to give proofs of
the rarest intrepidity. It was to him and some of those who
had survived the sequel of our misfortunes, that we owed our
safety. At last, after unheard of efforts, the rebels were once
more repulsed, and quiet restored. Having escaped this new
danger, we endeavored to get some repose. The day at length
dawned upon us for the fifth time. We were now no more
than thirty in number. We had lost four or five of our faithful
sailors, and those who survived were in the most deplorable
condition. The sea-water had almost entirely excoriated the
skin of our lower extremities; we were covered with contusions
or wounds, which, irritated by the salt water, extorted
from us the most piercing cries. About twenty of us only
were capable of standing upright or walking. Almost all our
[Pg 139]
fish was exhausted; we had but four days’ supply of wine: in
four days, said we, nothing will be left, and death will be inevitable.
Thus came the seventh day of our abandonment. In
the course of the day two soldiers had glided behind the only
barrel of wine that was left; pierced it, and were drinking by
means of a reed. We had sworn that those who used such
means should be punished with death; which law was instantly
put in execution, and the two transgressors were thrown
into the sea.

This same day saw the close of the life of a child named
Leon, aged twelve years. He died like a lamp which ceases
to burn for want of aliment. All spoke in favor of this young
and amiable creature, who merited a better fate. His angelic
form, his musical voice, the interest of an age so tender increased
still more by the courage he had shown, and the services
he had performed, for he had already made in the preceding
year a campaign in the East Indies, inspired us all
with the greatest pity for this young victim, devoted to so horrible
and premature a death. Our old soldiers and all our
people in general did everything they could to prolong his existence,
but all was in vain. Neither the wine which they
gave him without regret, nor all the means they employed,
could arrest his melancholy doom, and he expired in the arms
of M. Coudin, who had not ceased to give him the most unwearied
attention. Whilst he had strength to move, he ran
incessantly from one side to the other, loudly calling for his
unhappy mother, for water and food. He trod indiscriminately
on the feet and legs of his companions in misfortune, who,
in their turn, uttered sorrowful cries, but these were very rarely
accompanied with menaces; they pardoned all which the
poor boy had made them suffer. He was not in his senses,
consequently could not be expected to behave as if he had had
the use of his reason.

There now remained but twenty-seven of us. Fifteen of
that number seemed able to live yet some days; the rest,
covered with large wounds, had almost entirely lost the use
of their reason. They still, however, shared in the distributions,
and would, before they died, consume to thirty or forty
bottles of wine, which to us were inestimable. We deliberated,
that by putting the sick on half allowance was but putting
them to death by halves: but after a counsel, at which presided
the most dreadful despair, it was decided they should be
thrown into the sea. This means, however repugnant, however
horrible it appeared to us, procured the survivors six
[Pg 140]
days wine. But after the decision was made, who durst execute
it? The habit of seeing death ready to devour us; the
certainty of our infallible destruction without this monstrous
expedient; all, in short, had hardened our hearts to every
feeling but that of self-preservation. Three sailors and a soldier
took charge of this cruel business. We looked aside and
shed tears of blood at the fate of these unfortunates. Among
them were the wretched sutler and her husband. Both had
been grievously wounded in the different combats. The
woman had a thigh broken between the beams of the raft, and
a stroke of a sabre had made a deep wound in the head of her
husband. Every thing announced their approaching end.
We consoled ourselves with the belief that our cruel resolution
shortened but a brief space the term of their existence. Ye
who shudder at the cry of outraged humanity, recollect, that it
was other men, fellow-countrymen, comrades who had placed
us in this awful situation!

This horrible expedient saved the fifteen who remained; for
when we were found by the Argus brig, we had very little
wine left, and it was the sixth day after the cruel sacrifice we
have described. The victims, we repeat, had not more than
forty-eight hours to live, and by keeping them on the raft, we
would have been absolutely destitute of the means of existence
two days before we were found. Weak as we were, we considered
it as a certain thing, that it would have been impossible
for us to have lived only twenty-four hours more without
taking some food. After this catastrophe, we threw our arms
into the sea; they inspired us with a horror we could not overcome.
We only kept one sabre, in case we had to cut some
cordage or some piece of wood.

A new event, for everything was an event to wretches to
whom the world was reduced to the narrow space of a few
toises, and for whom the winds and waves contended in their
fury as they floated above the abyss; an event happened
which diverted our minds from the horrors of our situation.
All on a sudden a white butterfly, of a species common in
France, came fluttering above our heads, and settled on our
sails. The first thought this little creature suggested was,
that it was the harbinger of approaching land, and we clung to
the hope with a delirium of joy. It was the ninth day we had
been upon the raft; the torments of hunger consumed our entrails;
and the soldiers and sailors already devoured with haggard
eyes this wretched prey, and seemed ready to dispute
about it. Others looking upon it as a messenger from Heaven,
[Pg 141]
declared that they took it under their protection, and would
suffer none to do it harm. It is certain we could not be far
from land, for the butterflies continued to come on the following
days, and flutter about our sail. We had also on the
same day another indication not less positive, by a Goeland
which flew around our raft. This second visitor left us no
doubt that we were fast approaching the African soil, and we
persuaded ourselves we would be speedily thrown upon the
coast by the force of the currents.

This same day a new care employed us. Seeing we were
reduced to so small a number, we collected all the little
strength we had left, detached some planks on the front of the
raft, and, with some pretty long pieces of wood, raised on the
centre a kind of platform, on which we reposed. All the effects
we could collect were placed upon it, and rendered to
make it less hard; which also prevented the sea from passing
with such facility through the spaces between the different
planks, but the waves came across, and sometimes covered us
completely.

On this new theatre we resolved to meet death in a manner
becoming Frenchmen, and with perfect resignation. Our
time was almost wholly spent in speaking of our unhappy
country. All our wishes, our last prayers, were for the prosperity
of France. Thus passed the last days of our abode
upon the raft.

Soon after our abandonment, we bore with comparative ease
the immersions during the nights, which are very cold in these
countries; but latterly, every time the waves washed over us,
we felt a most painful sensation, and we uttered plaintive
cries. We employed every means to avoid it. Some supported
their heads on pieces of wood, and made with what
they could find a sort of little parapet to screen them from the
force of the waves; others sheltered themselves behind two
empty casks. But these means were very insufficient: it was
only when the sea was calm that it did not break over us.

An ardent thirst, redoubled in the day by the beams of a burning
sun, consumed us. An officer of the army found by chance
a small lemon, and it may be easily imagined how valuable
such a fruit would be to him. His comrades, in spite of the
most urgent entreaties, could not get a bit of it from him. Signs
of rage were already manifested, and had he not partly listened
to the solicitations of those around him, they would have taken
it by force, and he would have perished the victim of his selfishness.
We also disputed about thirty cloves of garlic which
[Pg 142]
were found in the bottom of a sack. These disputes were
for the most part accompanied with violent menaces, and if
they had been prolonged, we might perhaps have come to the
last extremities. There was found also two small phials, in
which was a spirituous liquid for cleaning the teeth. He who
possessed them kept them with care, and gave with reluctance
one or two drops in the palm of the hand. This liquor which,
we think, was a tincture of guiacum, cinnamon, cloves, and
other aromatic substances, produced on our tongues an agreeable
feeling, and for a short while removed the thirst which
destroyed us. Some of us found some small pieces of powder,
which made, when put into the mouth, a kind of coolness.
One plan generally employed was to put into a hat a quantity
of sea-water with which we washed our faces for a while, repeating
it at intervals. We also bathed our hair and held our
hands in the water. Misfortune made us ingenious, and each
thought of a thousand means to alleviate his sufferings. Emaciated
by the most cruel privations, the least agreeable feeling
was to us a happiness supreme. Thus we sought with avidity
a small empty phial which one of us possessed, and in which
had once been some essence of roses; and every one as he
got hold of it respired with delight the odor it exhaled, which
imparted to his senses the most soothing impressions. Many
of us kept our ration of wine in a small tin cup, and sucked it
out with a quill. This manner of taking it was of great benefit
to us, and allayed our thirst much better than if we had
gulped it off at once.

Three days passed in inexpressible anguish. So much did
we despise life, that many of us feared not to bathe in sight
of the sharks which surrounded our raft; others placed themselves
naked upon the front of our machine, which was under
water. These expedients diminished a little the ardor of their
thirst. A species of molusca, known to seamen by the name
of gatere, was sometimes driven in great numbers on our raft;
and when their long arms rested on our naked bodies, they
occasioned us the most cruel sufferings. Will it be believed,
that amidst these terrible scenes, struggling with inevitable
death, some of us uttered pleasantries which made us yet smile,
in spite of the horrors of our situation? One, besides others,
said jestingly, ‘If the brig is sent to search for us, pray God
it has the eyes of Argus,’ in allusion to the name of the vessel
we presumed would be sent to our assistance. This consolatory
idea never left us an instant, and we spoke of it frequently.

[Pg 143]
On the 16th, reckoning we were very near land, eight of the
most determined among us resolved to endeavor to gain the
coast. A second raft, of smaller dimensions, was formed for
transporting them thither: but it was found insufficient, and
they at length determined to await death in their present situation.
Meanwhile night came on, and its sombre veil revived
in our minds the most afflicting thoughts. We were convinced
there were not above a dozen or fifteen bottles of wine in
our barrel. We began to have an invincible disgust at the
flesh which had till then scarcely supported us; and we may
say, that the sight of it inspired us with feelings of horror,
doubtless produced by the idea of our approaching destruction.

On the morning of the 17th, the sun appeared free from
clouds. After having addressed our prayers to the Eternal,
we divided among us a part of our wine. Each, with delight,
was taking his small portion, when a captain of infantry, casting
his eyes on the horizon, perceived a ship, announced it to
us by an exclamation of joy. We knew it to be a brig, but it
was at a great distance; we could distinguish the masts. The
sight of this vessel revived in us emotions difficult to describe.
Each believed his deliverance sure, and we gave a thousand
thanks to God. Fears, however, mingled with our hopes.
We straightened some hoops of casks, to the ends of which
we fixed handkerchiefs of different colors. A man, with our
united assistance, mounted to the top of the mast, and waved
these little flags. For more than half an hour, we were tossed
between hope and fear. Some thought the vessel grew
larger, and others were convinced its course was from us.
These last were the only ones whose eyes were not blinded
by hope, for the ship disappeared.

From the delirium of joy, we passed to that of despondency
and sorrow. We envied the fate of those whom we had seen
perish at our sides; and we said to ourselves, ‘When we
shall be in want of everything, and when our strength begins
to forsake us, we will wrap ourselves up as well as we can,
we will stretch ourselves on this platform, the witness of the
most cruel sufferings, and there await death with resignation.’
At length, to calm our despair, we sought for consolation in
the arm of sleep. The day before, we had been scorched by
the beams of a burning sun: to-day, to avoid the fierceness
of his rays, we made a tent with the main-sail of the frigate.
As soon as it was finished, we laid ourselves under it; thus
all that was passing without was hid from our eyes. We
[Pg 144]
proposed then to write upon a plank an abridgement of our adventures,
and to add our names at the bottom of the recital,
and fix it to the upper part of the mast, in the hope it would
reach the government and our families.

After having passed two hours, a prey to the most cruel reflections,
the master gunner of the frigate, wishing to go to the
front of the raft, went out from below the tent. Scarcely had
he put out his head, when he turned to us, uttering a piercing
cry. Joy was painted upon his face; his hands were stretched
towards the sea; he breathed with difficulty. All he was
able to say was; ‘Saved! see the brig upon us!’ and in
fact it was not more than half a league distant having every
sail set, and steering right upon us. We rushed from our tent;
even those whom enormous wounds in their inferior extremities
had confined for many days, dragged themselves to the
back of the raft, to enjoy a sight of the ship which had come
to save us from certain death. We embraced one another
with a transport which looked much like madness, and tears
of joy trickled down our cheeks, withered by the most cruel
privations. Each seized handkerchiefs, or some pieces of
linen, to make signals to the brig, which was rapidly approaching
us. Some fell on their knees, and fervently returned
thanks to Providence for this miraculous preservation of their
lives. Our joy redoubled when saw we at the top of the fore-mast
a large white flag, and we cried, ‘It is then to Frenchmen
we will owe our deliverance.’ We instantly recognised the brig
to be the Argus; it was then about two gunshots from us.
We were terribly impatient to see her reef her sails, which at
last she did, and fresh cries of joy arose from our raft. The
Argus came and lay-to on our starboard, about half a pistol-shot
from us. The crew, ranged upon the deck and on the
shrouds, announced to us, by the waving of their hands and
hats, the pleasure they felt at coming to the assistance of their
unfortunate countrymen. In a short time we were all transported
on board the brig, where we found the lieutenant of
the frigate, and some others who had been wrecked with us.
Compassion was painted on every face, and pity drew tears
from every eye which beheld us.

We found some excellent broth on board the brig, which
they had prepared, and when they had perceived us they added
to it some wine, and thus restored our nearly exhausted
strength. They bestowed on us the most generous care and
attention; our wounds were dressed, and on the morrow many
of our sick began to revive. Some, however, still suffered
[Pg 145]
much, for they were placed between decks, very near the
kitchen, which augmented the almost insupportable heat of
these latitudes. This want of space arose from the small size
of the vessel. The number of the shipwrecked was indeed very
considerable. Those who did not belong to the navy were laid
upon cables, wrapped in flags, and placed under the fire of the
kitchen. Here they had almost perished during the course
of the night, fire having broken out between decks about ten
in the evening; but timely assistance being rendered, we were
saved for the second time. We had scarcely escaped when
some of us became again delirious. An officer of infantry
wished to throw himself into the sea, to look for his pocket
book, and would have done it had he not been prevented.
Others were seized in a manner not less frenzied.

The commander and officers of the brig watched over us,
and kindly anticipated our wants. They snatched us from
death, by saving us from our raft; their unremitting care revived
within us the spark of life. The surgeon of the ship,
M. Renaud, distinguished himself for his indefatigable zeal.
He was obliged to spend the whole of the day in dressing our
wounds; and during the two days we were in the brig, he bestowed
on us all the aid of his art, with an attention and gentleness
which merit our eternal gratitude.

In truth, it was time we should find an end of our sufferings;
they had lasted thirteen days, in the most cruel manner.
The strongest among us might have lived forty-eight hours
or so, longer. M. Correard felt that he must die in the course
of the day; he had, however a presentiment we would be
saved. He said, that a series of events so unheard of would
not be buried in oblivion; that Providence would at least preserve
some of us to tell to the world the melancholy story of
our misfortunes.

Such is the faithful history of those who were left upon the
memorable raft. Of one hundred and fifty, fifteen only were
saved. Five of that number never recovered from their fatigue,
and died at St. Louis. Those who yet live are covered
with scars; and the cruel sufferings to which they have been
exposed, have materially shaken their constitutions.

[Pg 146]

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

On the 29th of August, 1782, it was found necessary that
the Royal George, a line-of-battle ship of 108 guns, which
had lately arrived at Spithead from a cruise, should, previously
to her going again to sea, undergo the operation which seamen
technically call a Parliament heel. In such cases the
ship is inclined in a certain degree on one side, while the defects
below the water-mark on the other side are examined
and repaired. This mode of proceeding is, we believe at the
present day, very commonly adopted where the defects to be
repaired are not extensive, or where (as was the case with
the Royal George) it is desirable to avoid the delay of going
into dock. The operation is usually performed in still weather
and smooth water, and is attended with so little difficulty
and danger, that the officers and crew usually remain on
board, and neither the guns nor stores are removed.

The business was commenced on the Royal George early
in the morning, a gang of men from the Portsmouth Dock-yard
coming on board to assist the ship’s carpenters. It is
said that, finding it necessary to strip off more of the sheathing
than had been intended, the men in their eagerness to
reach the defect in the ship’s bottom, were induced to heel her
too much, when a sudden squall of wind threw her wholly on
her side; and the gun-ports being open, and the cannon rolling
over to the depressed side, the ship was unable to right
herself, instantaneously filled with water, and went to the bottom.

The fatal accident happened about ten o’clock in the morning.
Admiral Kempenfeldt was writing in his cabin, and the
greater part of the people were between decks. The ship,
as is usually the case upon coming into port, was crowded
with people from the shore, particularly women, of whom it
is supposed there were not less than three hundred on board.
Amongst the sufferers were many of the wives and children
of the petty officers and seamen, who, knowing the ship was
shortly to sail on a distant and perilous service, eagerly embraced
the opportunity of visiting their husbands and fathers.

[Pg 147]
The Admiral, with many brave officers and most of those
who were between decks, perished; the greater number of
the guard, and those who happened to be on the upper deck,
were saved by the boats of the fleet. About seventy others
were likewise saved. The exact number of persons on board
at the time could not be ascertained; but it was calculated
that from 800 to 1000 were lost. Captain Waghorn whose
gallantry in the North Sea Battle, under Admiral Parker, had
procured him the command of this ship, was saved, though he
was severely bruised and battered; but his son, a lieutenant
in the Royal George, perished. Such was the force of the
whirlpool, occasioned by the sudden plunge of so vast a body
in the water, that a victualler which lay alongside the Royal
George was swamped; and several small craft, at a considerable
distance, were in imminent danger.

Admiral Kempenfeldt, who was nearly 70 years of age, was
peculiarly and universally lamented. In point of general
science and judgment, he was one of the first naval officers
of his time; and, particularly in the art of manœuvring a fleet,
he was considered by the commanders of that day as unrivalled.
His excellent qualities, as a man, are said to have equalled
his professional merits.

This melancholy occurrence has been recorded by the poet
Cowper, in the following beautiful lines:—

LOSS OF THE ÆNEAS TRANSPORT.

The Æneas transport sailed with 347 souls on board, including
a party of men belonging to the 100th regiment of
foot, as also some officers, together with several women and
children. About four in the morning of the 23d of Oct. 1805,
the vessel struck violently on a rock, and received such damage
that her total wreck soon became evident to all on board.
For the first few minutes after this alarming occurrence, the
[Pg 149]
women and children clung to their husbands and fathers; but
in a short time, a prodigious wave swept not less than 250 of
those miserable people into the ocean. The rock whereon
the vessel had struck, speedily forced its way through the
decks, and then it appears, from her parting, thirty-five of
the survivors were driven on a small island before eight in
the morning, about a quarter of a mile distant, but when she
had entirely gone to pieces.

The narrative of these events was collected from one of
the survivors, a soldier of the 100th regiment, who could give
no correct account of how he and the others got ashore, but
he supposed they were floated in by part of the wreck. He
remembered to have observed one of the boys endeavoring to
save Major Bertram, whose arm was broken by some timber,
and he was on the point of sinking; he held him up as long
as his strength permitted; but to save his own life, was forced
to let go his hold, and the Major perished.

The thirty-five men who gained the shore, consisted of
part of the regiment, two of whom were officers, Lieutenant
Dawson and Ensign Faulkner, and seven sailors. Immediately
on landing, the wind unfortunately changed, so that not
an article of any kind was saved from the wreck. Mr. Faulkner
was aware of the real situation they had reached, judging
the main-land, which they saw about a mile distant, to be
Newfoundland, and that they were about 300 miles distant
from the town of St. John’s.

After passing one night on the little island, they constructed
a raft, by means of which, thirty of them arrived on the
main-land. Previous to this, however, four survivors of the
shipwreck had died, among whom was the poor fellow who
had endeavored to save Major Bertram. Another, who had
both his legs broken, was missing, as he had crawled away
from his comrades, that he might die in quiet. But eight
days afterwards, he was found alive, though in a shocking
state, as his feet were frozen off. Yet he survived all this,
and reached Quebec at a future period. Most of the party
set out, leaving three behind them, who were unable to walk
from bruises, and directed their course towards the rising sun,
but when the first day had elapsed, Lieutenant Dawson became
incapable of keeping up with the remainder; and two
soldiers staid to attend him. These three toiled onwards without
any food, except the berries which they found; and Lieutenant
Dawson was then unable to stand, unless supported.—On
reaching the banks of a river, one of the soldiers attempted
[Pg 150]
to carry him across on his back; but having waded up to
the neck, he was obliged to return, and lay him down on the
bank. There Mr. Dawson entreated his faithful attendants
to make the best of their way, and leave him to his fate; and
at the same time, affectionately squeezing their hands, he entreated
them to inform his father of his melancholy end.—Here
the soldier, who was one of them, and who related these
affecting incidents, burst into a flood of tears before he could
proceed. “We staid with him,” said he, “until we did not
know whether he was alive or dead.”

The two survivors continued wandering in a weak and feeble
state for twelve days longer, making twenty-six in all from
the period of their shipwreck, and subsisting on what they
could find on a barren and inhospitable land. But after the
first four or five days, they suffered no hunger, for, as they
themselves said, their misfortunes were so great as to banish
its influence, and to deprive them of the sense of feeling.—The
snow besides was so deep during the last two days, as to
prevent them from getting the berries as usual.

At last they were found by a man belonging to a hunting
party, who, little suspecting to see human beings in that desolate
region, took them at a distance for deer, and had concealed
himself behind a fallen tree, with his gun pointed towards
one of them, when his dog, leaping towards them, began to
bark, and shewed his error. When they related their shipwreck,
and the sufferings they had endured, tears stole down
the cheeks of the huntsman, and, taking the moccasins from
his feet, gave them to the poor miserable creatures. He invited
them to his hunting cabin, saying it was only a mile off,
though the real distance was at least twelve miles; but, by
degrees he enticed them to proceed, and at length they gained
it. On approaching the hut, four or five men came out
with long bloody knives in their hands, when the narrator,
turning to his comrade, exclaimed, “After all we have escaped,
are we brought here to be butchered and ate up?”—But
they soon discovered their mistake, for the men had been
cutting up some deer, the fruit of their chase; and the appearance
of the unfortunate soldiers quickly exciting sentiments
of pity in their breast, they produced a bottle of rum, wherewith
they were refreshed.

Every possible comfort was ministered by the hunters to the
unfortunate wanderers, and, from the accounts and description
given to them, they set out in quest of the others. They
luckily succeeded in finding the man who remained the first
[Pg 151]
day on the island, and also the other two who were unable to
leave the shore.

The two men who had accompanied Lieutenant Dawson,
appeared to have made but little progress during twenty-six
days of travelling, for they were discovered in a place not
very remote from whence they set out. Thus, involved among
the woods, they must have returned over the same ground
that they had passed.

Those who the huntsman first met endeavored to make
them understand where they might find the remains of Lieutenant
Dawson, and Ensign Faulkner and his party, but they
could speak too vaguely of where they had themselves been, to
give any pointed directions on the subject. But two of the latter
were found by a man on another hunting excursion, about
90 miles distant, apparently lifeless; though on being carried to
an adjacent settlement they recovered. Of the whole 35 who
survived the wreck of the transport, accounts could be heard
only of these five.

Ensign Faulkner was a strong, active, enterprising man,
and fully capable of adopting whatever means could be devised
for preservation. Both he and Lieutenant Dawson,
who was scarce more than 17 years of age, were of the greatest
promise. While the transport lay about three miles from
Portsmouth, they are said to have swam to the ship, when the
former climbed up her side, but the latter was nearly exhausted.

A brig from Port, which touched at Newfoundland, carried
five of the survivors from thence to Quebec; and when they
arrived there in the barrack square, a most affecting scene
ensued. Men and women eagerly flocked around them,
with anxious inquiries for some friend or brother who was on
board the ill-fated vessel. But all they could answer was,
“If you do not see him here, be assured he has perished; for,
of 347 souls, we five Irish lads and two sailors are all that remain
alive.” The tears and exclamations following these
words can scarce be described.

[Pg 152]

THE ABSENT SHIP.

[Pg 153]

WRECK OF THE HALSEWELL, ON THE COAST OF ENGLAND

[Pg 155]

LOSS OF THE HALSEWELL.

The catastrophe which is now about to be related made a
deep impression on the public mind. The circumstances attending
it were too aggravating not to excite the highest degree
of commiseration, whether from the flattering prospects
held forth in the outset of the voyage, or from a peculiar feeling
towards the condition of the sufferers.

The Halsewell East Indiaman, of 758 tons burthen, commanded
by Captain Richard Pierce, was taken up by the directors
of the East India Company to make her third voyage
to Coast and Bay. On the 16th of November 1785, she fell
down to Gravesend, where she completed her lading. Ladies
and other passengers being taken on board at the Hope, she
sailed through the Downs on Sunday the 1st of January 1786;
and, when abreast of Dunnose next morning, the weather fell
calm.

This was one of the finest ships in the service, and judged
to be in the most perfect condition for her voyage. Her commander
was of distinguished ability and exemplary character;
his officers of approved fidelity and unquestionable knowledge
in their profession, and the crew not only as numerous
as the East India establishment admits, but the best seamen
that could be collected. To these were added a considerable
body of soldiers, destined to recruit the forces of the East India
Company in Asia.

The passengers were seven ladies, two of whom were
daughters to the captain, and other two his relations. Miss
Elizabeth Blackburne, daughter of Captain Blackburne; Miss
Mary Haggard, sister to an officer on the Madras establishment,
and Miss Anne Mansel, a child of European parents
residing in Madras, returning from her education in England.
There was also Mr. John George Schutz, returning to
collect part of his fortune, which he had left behind him in
India.

The ladies were equally distinguished by their beauty and
accomplishments; the gentlemen of amiable manners, and of
a highly respectable character. Mr. Burston, the chief mate,
[Pg 156]
was also related to Captain Pierce’s lady, and the whole formed
a happy society united in friendship. Nothing could be
more pleasing or encouraging than the outset of the voyage.

On Monday the 2d of January, a breeze from the south
sprung up at three in the afternoon, when the ship ran in
shore to land the pilot. Very thick weather coming on in the
evening, and the wind baffling, she was obliged to anchor, at
nine o’clock, in eighteen fathom water. The topsails were
furled, but the people could not furl the courses, the snow
falling thick and freezing as it fell.

Next morning at four a strong gale came on from east-north-east,
and the ship shivering, they were obliged to cut the cables
and run out to sea. At noon they spoke with a brig
bound to Dublin, and, having put the pilot on board of her,
immediately bore down channel. The wind freshening at
eight in the evening, and coming round to the southward,
such sails were reefed as were judged necessary. It blew a
violent gale at ten o’clock from the south, whence they were
obliged to carry a press of sail to keep the ship off shore.—In
doing this, the hawse-plugs, which according to a late improvement,
were put inside, were washed in, and the hawse-bags
washed away, in consequence of which the vessel shipped
a large quantity of water on the gun-deck.

On sounding the well, and finding the ship had sprung a
leak, and now had five feet water in the hold, the people clewed
up the main-topsail, hauled up the mainsail, and immediately
endeavored to furl both, but could not effect it. On
discovering the leak all the pumps were set to work.

At two in the morning of Wednesday the fourth, they tried
to wear the ship, but without success, and judging it necessary
to cut away the mizen-mast, this was immediately done,
when another attempt made to wear her was equally fruitless
as the former. The ship had now seven feet water in the
hold which was gaining fast on the pumps, therefore, for her
preservation it was considered expedient to cut away the
mainmast, as she appeared to be in immediate danger of
foundering.

In the fall of the mast, Jonathan Moreton, coxswain, and
four men, were either drawn along with the wreck, or fell
overboard and were drowned. By eight in the morning the
wreck was cleared, and the ship got before the wind, in which
position she was kept two hours. Meantime the pumps reduced
the water in the hold two feet, and the ship’s head was
brought to the eastward with the foresail only.

[Pg 157]
At ten in the morning the wind abated considerably, but
the ship labouring extremely, rolled the fore-topmast over on
the larboard side, and, in the fall, the wreck went through the
foresail, tearing it to pieces. At eleven the wind came to the
westward, and the weather clearing up, the Berryhead was
distinguishable, bearing north and by east, distant four or
five leagues. Another foresail was now immediately bent, a
jury-mainmast erected and a top-gallantsail set for a mainsail,
under which sail Captain Pierce bore up for Portsmouth,
and employed the remainder of the day in getting up a jury-mizen-mast.

At two next morning, the wind came to the southward,
blowing fresh, the weather being very thick. Portland was
seen at noon, bearing north and by east, distant two or three
leagues. At night, it blew a strong gale at south, at which
time the Portland lights were then seen, bearing north-west,
distant four or five leagues. The ship was then wore,
and her head got round to the westward; but finding she lost
ground on that tack, the captain wore her again, and kept
stretching on to the eastward, in hopes to have weathered
Peverel Point, in which case he intended to have anchored in
Studland Bay. It cleared at eleven at night, and St. Alban’s
Head was seen a mile and a half to the leeward, on which,
sail was instantly taken in, and the small bower anchor let go,
which brought up the ship at a whole cable. She rode for
about an hour, but then drove; the sheet anchor was now let
go, and a whole cable wore away, and the ship rode for about
two hours longer, when she drove again.

While in this situation, the captain sent for Mr. Henry
Meriton, the second mate, and asked his opinion as to the
probability of saving the lives of those on board; to which he
replied with equal calmness and candor, that he apprehended
there was very little hope of it, as the ship was driving fast
on shore, and might every moment be expected to strike. The
boats were then mentioned, but it was agreed, that although
at that time they could be of very little use, yet in case an
opportunity of making them serviceable should present itself,
it was proposed that the officers should be confidentially requested
to reserve the long boat for the ladies and themselves;
and this precaution was immediately taken.

About two in the morning of Friday the sixth of January,
the ship still driving, and approaching very fast to the shore,
the same officer went again into the cuddy, where the captain
then was. Another conversation taking place, Captain
[Pg 158]
Pierce expressed extreme anxiety for the preservation of his
beloved daughters, and earnestly asked the officer if he could
devise any method of saving them. On his answering with
great concern, that he feared it would be impossible, but that
their only chance would be to wait for morning, the captain
lifted up his hands in silent and distressful ejaculation.

At this dreadful moment, the ship struck, with such violence
as to dash the heads of those standing in the cuddy
against the deck above them, and the shock was accompanied
by a shriek of horror that burst at one instant from every
quarter of the ship.

Many of the seamen, who had been remarkably inattentive
and remiss in their duty during a great part of the storm, now
poured upon deck, where no exertions of the officers could
keep them, while their assistance might have been useful.—They
had actually skulked in their hammocks, leaving the
working of the pumps and other necessary labours to the officers
of the ship, and the soldiers, who had made uncommon
exertions. Roused by a sense of their danger, the same seamen,
at this moment, in frantic exclamations, demanded of
heaven and their fellow sufferers, that succour which their
own efforts timely made might possibly have procured.

The ship continued to beat on the rocks, and soon bilging,
fell with her broadside towards the shore. When she struck,
a number of men climbed up the ensign-staff, under an apprehension
of her immediately going to pieces.

Mr. Meriton, the second mate, at this crisis offered to these
unhappy beings the best advice which could be given; he recommended
that all should come to the side of the ship lying
lowest on the rocks, and singly to take the opportunities
which might then offer, of escaping to the shore.

Having thus provided to the utmost of his power, for the
safety of the desponding crew, he returned to the round-house,
where, by this time, all the passengers, and most of
the officers had assembled. The latter were employed in offering
consolation to the unfortunate ladies, and with unparalleled
magnanimity, suffering their compassion for the fair
and amiable companions of their misfortunes, to prevail over
the sense of their own danger.

In this charitable work of comfort, Mr. Meriton now joined,
by assurances of his opinion, that the ship would hold together
till the morning, when all would be safe. Captain
Pierce observing one of the young gentlemen loud in his exclamations
of terror, and frequently cry that the ship was
[Pg 159]
parting, cheerfully bid him be quiet, remarking, that though
the ship should go to pieces, he would not, but would be safe
enough.

It is difficult to convey a correct idea of the scene of this
deplorable catastrophe, without describing the place where it
happened.

The Halsewell struck on the rocks near Seacombe, on the
island of Purbeck, between Peverel Point and St. Alban’s
Head, at a part of the shore where the cliff is of vast height,
and rises almost perpendicular from its base. But at this particular
spot, the foot of the cliff is excavated into a cavern of ten
or twelve yards in depth, and of breadth equal to the length of
a large ship. The sides of the cavern are so nearly upright
as to be of extremely difficult access; and the bottom is strewed
with sharp and uneven rocks, which seem, by some convulsion
of the earth, to have been detached from its roof.

The ship lay with her broadside opposite to the mouth of
this cavern, with her whole length stretched almost from side to
side of it. But when she struck, it was too dark for the unfortunate
persons on board to discover the real magnitude of
their danger, and the extreme horror of such a situation.—Even
Mr. Meriton entertained a hope that she might keep
together till day-light; and endeavored to cheer his drooping
friends, and in particular the unhappy ladies, with this comfortable
expectation, as an answer to the captain’s inquiries
what he thought of their condition.

In addition to the company already in the round-house, they
had admitted three black women and two soldier’s wives, who,
with the husband of one of them, had been allowed to come in,
though the seamen, who had tumultuously demanded entrance
to get the lights, had been opposed and kept out by Mr. Rogers
and Mr. Brimer, the third and fifth mates. The numbers
there were therefore now increased to near fifty. Capt. Pierce
sat on a chair, a cot or some other moveable, with a daughter
on each side, whom he alternately pressed to his affectionate
breast. The rest of the melancholy assembly were seated on
the deck, which was strewed with musical instruments, and
the wreck of furniture and other articles.

Here also Mr. Meriton, after having cut several wax candles
in pieces and stuck them up in various parts of the round-house,
and lighted up all the glass lanthorns he could find,
took his seat, intending to wait the approach of dawn; and
then assist the partners of his danger to escape. But observing
that the poor ladies appeared parched and exhausted,
[Pg 160]
he brought a basket of oranges and prevailed on some of them
to refresh themselves by sucking a little of the juice. At this
time they were all tolerably composed, except Miss Mansel,
who was in hysteric fits, on the floor of the deck of the
round-house.

But on Mr. Meriton’s return to the company, he perceived
a considerable alteration in the appearance of the ship; the
sides were visibly giving way; the deck seemed to be lifting
and he discovered other strong indications that she could not
hold much longer together. On this account, he attempted
to go forward to look out, but immediately saw that the ship
had separated in the middle, and that the fore-part having
changed its position, lay further towards the sea. In such
an emergency, when the next moment might plunge him into
eternity, he determined to seize the present opportunity, and
follow the example of the crew and the soldiers, who were
now quitting the ship in numbers, and making their way to
the shore, though quite ignorant of its nature and description.

Among other expedients, the ensign-staff had been unshipped,
and attempted to be laid between the ship’s side and
some of the rocks, but without success, for it snapped assunder
before it reached them. However, by the light of a lanthorn
which a seaman handed through a sky-light of the
round-house to the deck, Mr. Meriton discovered a spar which
appeared to be laid from the ship’s side to the rocks, and on
this spar he resolved to attempt his escape.

Accordingly lying down upon it, he thrust himself forward;
however, he soon found that it had no communication with
the rock; he reached the end of it and then slipped off, receiving
a very violent bruise in his fall, and before he could
recover his legs, he was washed off by the surge. He now
supported himself by swimming, until a returning wave dashed
him against the back part of the cavern. Here he laid
hold of a small projection in the rock, but was so much benumbed
that he was on the point of quitting it, when a seaman,
who had already gained a footing, extended his hand,
and assisted him until he could secure himself a little on the
rock; from which he clambered on a shelf still higher, and out
of the reach of the surf.

Mr. Rogers, the third mate, remained with the captain, and
the unfortunate ladies and their companions, nearly twenty
minutes after Mr. Meriton had quitted the ship. Soon after
the latter left the round-house, the captain asked what was
[Pg 161]
become of him, to which Mr. Rogers replied, that he was
gone on deck to see what could be done. After this, a heavy
sea breaking over the ship, the ladies exclaimed, “O poor
Meriton! he is drowned! had he staid with us he would have
been safe!” and they all, particularly Miss Mary Pierce, expressed
great concern at the apprehension of his loss. On
this occasion Mr. Rogers offered to go and call in Mr. Meriton,
but it was opposed by the ladies, from an apprehension
that he might share the same fate.

The sea was now breaking in at the fore-part of the ship,
and reached as far as the mainmast. Captain Pierce gave
Mr. Rogers a nod, and they took a lamp and went together
into the stern-gallery, where, after viewing the rocks for some
time, Captain Pierce asked Mr. Rogers if he thought there
was any possibility of saving the girls; to which he replied,
he feared there was none; for they could only discover the
black face of the perpendicular rock, and not the cavern
which afforded shelter to those who escaped. They then returned
to the round-house, where Mr. Rogers hung up the
lamp, and Captain Pierce sat down between his two daughters,
struggling to suppress the parental tears which burst
into his eyes.

The sea continuing to break in very fast, Mr. Macmanus,
a midshipman, and Mr. Schutz, asked Mr. Rogers what they
could do to escape. “Follow me,” he replied, and they all
went into the stern gallery, and from thence to the upper-quarter-gallery
on the poop. While there, a very heavy sea
fell on board and the round-house gave way; Mr. Rogers
heard the ladies shriek at intervals, as if the water reached
them; the noise of the sea, at other times, drowning their
voices.

Mr. Brimer had followed him to the poop, where they remained
together about five minutes; when on the breaking of
this heavy sea, they jointly seized a hen-coop. The same
wave which proved fatal to some of those below, carried him
and his companion to the rock, on which they were violently
dashed and miserably bruised.

Here on the rock were twenty-seven, but it now being low
water, and as they were convinced that on the flowing of the
tide all must be washed off, many tried to get to the back or
the sides of the cavern, beyond the reach of the returning
sea. Scarcely more than six, besides Mr. Rogers and Mr.
Brimer, succeeded; of the others, some shared the fate which
they had apprehended, and others perished in their efforts to
[Pg 162]
get into the cavern. Mr. Rogers and Mr. Brimer both reached
it, however, and scrambled up the rock, on narrow shelves
of which they fixed themselves. Mr. Rogers got so near his
friend, Mr. Meriton, as to exchange mutual congratulations
with him. A warm friendship, indeed, subsisted between
these two gentlemen; they had made a long and painful voyage
together, in another Indiaman, where they survived an
uncommon mortality by which the crew were visited. They
returned to England, and an interval of only twenty-five days
elapsed, before they again embarked in the Halsewell.

Mr. Rogers on gaining this station, was so nearly exhausted,
that had his exertions been protracted only a few minutes
longer, he must have sunk under them. He was now prevented
from joining Mr. Meriton, by at least twenty men between
them, none of whom could move without the imminent peril of
his life.

They found that a very considerable number of the crew,
seamen, and soldiers, and some petty officers, were in the same
situation as themselves, though many who had reached the
rocks below, perished in attempting to ascend. They could
yet discern some part of the ship, and in their dreary station
solaced themselves with the hope of its remaining entire until
day-break; for in the midst of their own distress, the sufferings
of the females on board affected them with the most
poignant anguish; and every sea that broke, inspired them
with terror for their safety.

But, alas, their apprehensions were too soon realized!—Within
a very few minutes of the time that Mr. Rogers gained
the rock, an universal shriek, which long vibrated in their
ears, in which the voice of female distress was lamentably
distinguished, announced the dreadful catastrophe. In a few
moments all was hushed, except the roaring of the winds and
the dashing of the waves; the wreck was buried in the deep,
and not an atom of it was ever afterwards seen.

The shock which this gave to the trembling wretches in the
cavern was awful. Though themselves hardly rescued from
the sea, and still surrounded by impending dangers, they wept
for the destiny of their unhappy companions. But this was
not all. Many who had gained a precarious station, weakened
with injuries, benumbed and battered by the tempest, forsook
their hold-fasts, and, tumbling on the rocks below, perished
beneath the feet of their miserable companions. Their
dying groans and exclamations for pity, only tended to awaken
more painful apprehensions, and increase the terror of the
survivors.

[Pg 163]
At length after three hours, which appeared so many ages,
day broke, but instead of bringing relief to the sufferers, it
only served to disclose the horrors of their situation. They
now found, that had the country been alarmed by the guns of
distress which they had continued to fire for many hours before
the ship struck, but which were not heard, owing to the
violence of the storm, they could neither be observed by the
people from above, nor could any boat live below. They
were completely overhung by the cliff, so that no ropes let
down could reach them; nor did any part of the wreck remain
as a guide to their retreat.

The only prospect of saving themselves, was to creep along
the side of the cavern to its outward extremity, and on a ledge
scarcely as broad as a man’s hand, to turn the corner, and endeavor
to clamber up the precipice, almost perpendicular, and
nearly 200 feet high from the bottom.—And in this desperate
effort some did succeed, while others, trembling with fear,
and exhausted by the preceding conflict, lost their footing and
perished in the attempt.

The first who gained the top, were the cook and James
Thompson, a quarter-master; the moment they reached it,
they hastened to the nearest house and made known the condition
of their comrades. This was Eastington, the habitation
of Mr. Garland, steward to the proprietors of the Purbeck
quarries. He immediately collected the workmen, and
procuring ropes with all possible despatch, made the most humane
and zealous exertions for the relief of the surviving
people.

Mr. Meriton made a similar attempt to that of the two others,
and almost reached the edge of the precipice. A soldier
who preceded him had his feet on a small projecting rock or
stone on which also Meriton had fastened his hands to aid his
progress. At this critical moment the quarrymen arrived,
and seeing a man so nearly within their reach, they dropped a
rope to him, of which he immediately laid hold; and in a vigorous
effort to avail himself of this advantage, loosened the
stone on which he stood, and which supported Mr. Meriton.
It giving way, Mr. Meriton must have been precipitated to
the bottom, had not a rope at that instant providentially been
lowered to him, which he seized, when absolutely in the act
of falling, and was safely drawn to the summit.

But the fate of Mr. Brimer was peculiarly severe. Only
nine days before the ship sailed, he had been married to a
beautiful young lady, the daughter of Captain Norman of the
[Pg 164]
royal navy, in which service he was a lieutenant, and now on
a visit to an uncle at Madras; after getting ashore with Mr.
Rogers and up the side of the cavern, he remained until morning,
when he crawled out. A rope being thrown to him, he
was either so benumbed with cold as to fasten it insecurely
about his body, or from some other cause or agitation, to neglect
doing it completely; at the moment when about to be
rescued from his perilous stand, he fell and was dashed to
pieces in the presence of his companions.

More assistance was obtained as the day advanced; and as
the efforts of the survivors permitted, they crawled to the extremities
of the cavern and presented themselves to their preservers
above, who stood prepared to assist them. The
means of doing so, was by two men boldly approaching the
very brink of the precipice, a rope being tied round them and
fastened to a strong iron bar fixed in the ground; behind them
were two more, the like number further back and so on. A
strong rope also properly secured, passed round them, by
which they might hold, and preserve themselves from falling.
They then let down a rope with a noose ready made, below to
the cavern, and the wind blowing hard, it was in some instances
forced under the projecting rock, sufficiently for the sufferers
to reach it, without creeping out. Whoever caught it,
put the noose round his body, and was drawn up. The distance
from the top of the rock to the cavern, was at least an
hundred feet, and the rock projected about eight; ten feet
formed a declivity to the edge, and the rest was perpendicular.

Many, however, in attempting to secure themselves, shared
the fate of Mr. Brimer, and, unable, from weakness or perturbation,
to benefit by the assistance offered from above, they
were at last precipitated from the cliff, and were either dashed
to pieces on the rocks below, or perished in the waves.—Among
those unhappy sufferers was one who being washed
off the rock, or falling into the sea, was carried out by the return
of the waves beyond the breakers, within which his utmost
efforts could never again bring him, but he was always
further withdrawn by the sea. He swam remarkably well,
and continued to struggle in sight of his companions, until his
strength being exhausted, he sunk to rise no more.

It was late in the day before all the survivors gained the
land; one indeed a soldier, remained in this precarious station
until the morning of Saturday the 7th of January; exposed
to the utmost danger and distress. When the officers,
[Pg 165]
seamen and soldiers, were mustered at the house of Mr. Garland,
they were found to amount to seventy-four; and these
were the only persons saved out of rather more than two hundred
and forty that were on board when the ship sailed
through the Downs, including the passengers. It was supposed
that above fifty of the remainder reached the rocks, but
were then washed off or fell from the cliffs; and that fifty, or
more, sunk with the captain and the ladies in the round-house,
when the after-part went to pieces. An accurate account of
the whole numbers in the ship could never be obtained, as the
last returns dispatched from her did not arrive.

The whole who reached the summit of the rock survived,
excepting two or three who were supposed to have expired
while drawing up, and a black who died soon afterwards;
though many were severely bruised.

Mr. Meriton and Mr. Rogers having been supplied with the
necessary means of making their journey by Mr. Garland,
set off for London to carry the tidings of this disaster to the
India House, where they arrived at noon, on Sunday the 8th.
On the way they acquainted the magistrates of the towns
through which they passed, that a number of shipwrecked
seamen would soon be on the road to the metropolis. This
they did to avert any suspicions of their travelling for some
other intent. It is truly deserving of communication, that
the master of the Crown-Inn at Blandford, Dorsetshire, not
only sent for all the distressed seamen to his house, where he
liberally refreshed them, but presented each with half a crown
on his departure.

By this unfortunate shipwreck, all the passengers perished.
The ladies were peculiarly endowed with beauty and accomplishments.
The captain was a man of distinguished worth;
humane and generous. (He left, besides those two daughters
who suffered along with him, six other children and a widow
to deplore his loss.) Most of the officers also perished; one
of them, Mr. Thomas Jeane, a midshipman, who was under
the immediate care of Captain Pierce, after gaining the rock
was swept off by the waves. Swimming well he again reached
it; but unable to support the weakness which assailed him,
and the beating of the storm, he yielded his hold and perished
in the sea.

[Pg 166]

AN ACCOUNT OF FOUR RUSSIAN SAILORS,

ABANDONED ON THE ISLAND OF EAST SPITZBERGEN.

In the year 1743, a merchant of Mesen, in Russia, fitted
out a vessel for the Greenland whale-fishery. She carried
fourteen men, and was destined for Spitzbergen. For eight
successive days after their sailing the wind was fair, but on
the ninth it changed; so that instead of getting to the coast of
Spitzbergen, the usual rendezvous of the Dutch ships, they
were driven eastward, and after some days elapsed they found
themselves near an island, called by the Russians Little Broun.
Approaching within three versts, or two English miles of this
island, the vessel was suddenly surrounded by ice and the
crew were reduced to an extremely dangerous situation.

In this alarming state, a council was held when the mate,
Alexis Himkof, informed his comrades that some of the people
of Mesen formerly intended wintering on this island, and
for that purpose had carried timber hither, fit for building a
hut, and actually erected one at some distance from the shore.

The whole crew, therefore, concluded to winter there, if
the hut, as they hoped, still existed, because they were exposed
to imminent danger by remaining in the ship, and they
would infallibly perish if they did so. Four of the crew were
on that account, dispatched in search of it, or any other assistance
they might meet with.

The names of these four were, Alexis Himkof, Iwan Himkof,
Stephen Scharapof and Feoder Weregin. Two miles of
ice intervened between them and the shore, which being loose
and driven together by the wind, rendered their approach difficult
and dangerous. Providing themselves with a musket, a
powder-horn containing twelve charges of powder, with as
many balls, an axe, a kettle, about twenty pounds of flour, a
knife, a tinder-box, some tobacco and each his wooden pipe,
they soon arrived on the island.

Their first employment was exploring the country, when
they discovered the hut alluded to, about a mile and a half
from the shore. It was thirty-six feet long, eighteen broad
[Pg 167]
and eighteen high; and consisted of two chambers. Rejoicing
greatly at their success, they passed the night in it;
though having been built a considerable time, it had suffered
much from the weather.

Next morning the four men hastened to the shore, impatient
to communicate their good fortune to their comrades; likewise
designing to get such stores, ammunition and necessaries
from the vessel, as to enable them to winter on the island.
But the reader may conceive their sorrow and astonishment,
when on reaching the place where they had landed
nothing was to be seen but an open sea, instead of the ice
which only the day preceding had covered it. Doubtless a
violent storm, which arose during the night, had operated the
change. It was not known, however, whether the vessel had
been beat to pieces by the ice, or whether she had been carried
by the current to the ocean; not an uncommon event in
Greenland. Whatever accident befel her, certain it is they
saw her no more; whence it is probable that she sunk, and
that all on board perished.

This unfortunate occurrence deprived them of the hope of
ever being able to quit the island, and full of horror and despair,
they returned to the hut. But their first attention was
directed to the means of providing subsistence, and repairing
their habitation. The twelve charges of powder procured
them as many rein-deer, for the island, fortunately for them
abounded with these animals.

Though there were many crevices in the building, the wood
of the hut was still sound and unimpaired, therefore the deficiency
was supplied and done the more easily, because the
lower class of Russians are expert carpenters. Here they
had plenty of moss to assist them.

The intense cold of the climate prevents the growth of
vegetables, and no species of tree or shrub is found on the
islands of Spitzbergen. The Russians, however, collected a
quantity of wood on the shore, which at first consisted of the
wrecks of vessels, and afterwards of whole trees with their
roots, the produce of some more hospitable climate, though
unknown. Fortunately they found several bits of old iron,
some nails, five or six inches long, and an iron hook, on a few
wooden boards washed in by the sea. They likewise found
the root of a fir tree, bent and nearly fashioned into the shape
of a bow.

By the help of a knife, a bow was soon formed but wanting
a string and arrows. Unable at present to procure either,
[Pg 168]
they resolved to make two lances to defend themselves against
the white bears. The iron hook was therefore fashioned into
a hammer, by widening a hole which it happened to have
about the middle, with one of the largest nails. A large pebble
served for an anvil, and a couple of rein-deer horns served
for the tongs.

By means of such tools, two spear heads were made, which
were tied fast with thongs to sticks about the thickness of a
man’s arm. Thus equipped, the Russians ventured to attack
a white bear, and, after a most dangerous encounter, succeeded
in killing it. This was a new supply of provisions; they
relished the flesh exceedingly, and easily divided the tendons
into filaments, which, besides other uses, served for strings to
their bow.

The Russians, in the next place, proceeded to forge some
bits of iron into smaller pieces, resembling the head of spears;
and these were fitted to arrows, by fastening them to fir rods.

They had thus a complete bow and arrows, and were more
easily enabled to obtain food.

With these, during their abode on the island, they killed
no less than two hundred and fifty rein-deer, and a great number
of blue and white foxes. They fed on the flesh of the
animals and used their skins for clothing. They killed only
ten white bears during their residence, and that at the utmost
hazard, for these creatures are amazingly strong, and defended
themselves with surprising vigour and fury. The first was
attacked intentionally; the other nine were killed in self-defence,
for the animals even ventured to enter the outer room
of the hut to devour them. Some, less ferocious than others,
[Pg 169]
were repulsed on the first attempt, but a repetition of their attacks
exposed the sailors to the continual apprehension of being
destroyed.

As they could not afford wood for a constant fire, they dried
a portion of their provision in the open air, and afterwards
hung it up in the hut, which was always full of smoke. Prepared
in this way, they used it for bread, because they were
under the necessity of eating their other flesh half raw.

Unfortunately, one of the Russians was attacked by the
scurvy. Iwan Himkof, who had wintered several times on
the coast of West Spitzbergen, advised his companions to
swallow raw and frozen meat in small pieces; to drink the
blood of the rein-deer, as it flowed warm from the veins of the
animal, and to eat scurvy-grass, although it was not very abundant.
Those who followed his injunctions found an effectual
antidote, but Feoder Weregin, being naturally of an indolent
disposition, averse to drinking the rein-deer blood, and, unwilling
to leave the hut when he could possibly avoid it, was
soon seized with the scurvy. Under this afflicting distemper
he passed nearly six years, enduring the greatest sufferings.
At length he became so weak that he could not sit erect, nor
even raise his hand to his mouth, so that his humane companions
were obliged to attend on, and feed him like a new born
infant, until the hour of his death.

In the course of their excursions through the island, the
seamen had met with a slimy loam, or kind of clay, of which
they contrived to make a lamp, and proposed to keep it constantly
burning with the fat of the animals they should kill.—Thus
they filled it with rein-deer’s fat, and stuck a bit of
twisted linen for a wick. But, to their mortification, always
as the fat melted, it not only was absorbed by the clay, but
fairly run through it on all sides. On this account they formed
another lamp, which they dried thoroughly in the air, and
heated red hot. It was next quenched in their kettle, wherein
they had boiled a quantity of flour down to the consistence
of thin starch. When filled with melted fat, they found to
their great joy that it did not leak. Encouraged by this attempt,
they made another, that, at all events, they might not
be destitute of light, and saved the remainder of their flour
for similar purposes. Oakum thrown ashore, as also cordage
found among the wrecks of vessels, served for wicks; and
when these resources failed, they converted their shirts and
drawers to the same purpose. By such means they kept a
[Pg 170]
lamp burning from soon after their arrival on the island, until
the day of their embarkation for their native country.

Clothes, in so rigorous a climate, next became an object
of necessity. The uses to which they had applied what they
had brought with them exposed them still more to its severity.
The skins of rein-deer and foxes had hitherto served for bedding.
It was essential to devise some method of tanning
them, the better to withstand the weather. This was accomplished,
in a certain degree, by soaking the skins in water
until the hair could be rubbed off, and then putting rein-deer
fat upon them. The leather, by such a process, became soft
and pliant. The want of awls and needles was supplied by
bits of iron occasionally collected; of them they made a kind
of wire, which, being heated red hot, was pierced with a knife,
ground to a sharp point, which formed the eye of a needle.—The
sinews of bears and rein-deer, split into threads, served
for sewing the pieces of leather together, which enabled the
Russians to procure jackets and trowsers for summer dress,
and a long fur gown with a hood for their winter apparel.

The wants of these unfortunate persons being thus provided
for, the only reflections disturbing them were regret for
those left behind at home, or the apprehensions of some one
of them surviving all his companions, and then either famishing
for want of food, or becoming a prey to wild beasts. The
mate, Alexis Himkof, had a wife and three children, who
were constantly in his mind, and he was unhappy from the
dread of never seeing them more.

Excepting white bears, foxes and rein-deer, with which the
island abounds, no other animals inhabit it. A few birds are
seen in summer, such as geese, ducks and other water-fowl.
Whales seldom approach the shore; but there are great numbers
of seals; other fish are scarce, and indeed their being in
plenty would little avail the Russians, who were unprovided
with the means of taking them. Sometimes they found
the teeth and jaws of seals on the shore, but never an entire
carcase; for when these animals die on land, the white bears
immediately eat them. The common food of this ferocious
creature, however, is the flesh of dead whales, which are frequently
seen floating about in the polar regions, and are sometimes
cast on shore. When this provision fails, they fall upon
seals, devouring them and other animals sleeping on the beach.

The island had many mountains and steep rocks of stupendous
height, perpetually covered with snow and ice; not a tree
nor even the poorest shrub was to be met with; neither is there
[Pg 171]
any vegetable but scurvy-grass, although plenty of moss
grows in every part. The Russians found no river; however,
there were many small rivulets rising among the rocks and
mountains, which afforded a quantity of water.

They saw the sun moving for months together round the
horizon during summer, and in winter they were an equal
length of time in total darkness; but the Aurora Borealis,
which was then frequent, contributed to lessen the gloominess
of so long a night. Thick cloudy weather, great quantities
of snow, and almost incessant rain at certain seasons, often
obscured the stars. The snow totally covered the hut in
winter, and left them no way of getting out of it, excepting by
a hole which they had made in the roof of one of the chambers.

When the unfortunate mariners had passed nearly six years
in this dismal abode, Feoder Weregin, who had all along been
in a languid state, died, after suffering the most excruciating
pains. Though his companions were thus freed of the trouble
of attending on him, and the grief of witnessing his misery,
they were deeply affected by his death. They saw their
number lessened, and each wished to be the next to follow
him. Having died in winter, a grave as deep as possible
was dug in the snow to receive his corpse, and the survivors
then covered it over to the best of their power, to prevent the
white bears from getting at it.

While the melancholy reflections excited by Weregin’s
death were still fresh in the minds of his comrades, and while
each expected to pay the like duties to the companions of his
misfortunes that they had done to him, or to be himself the
first to receive them, a Russian vessel unexpectedly came in
view on the 15th of August 1749.

This vessel belonged to a trader who had come to Archangel,
and intended to winter in Nova Zembla; but fortunately
it was proposed to him to winter at West Spitzbergen, to
which, after many objections, he assented. Contrary winds
on the passage prevented the ship from reaching the place
of her destination, and drove her towards East Spitzbergen,
directly opposite to the residence of the mariners. As soon
as they perceived her, they hastened to light fires on the
nearest hills, and then ran to the beach waving a flag made of
a rein-deer’s skin fastened to a pole. The people on board
observing these signals, concluded there were men ashore imploring
their assistance, and therefore came to an anchor near
the island.

[Pg 172]
To describe the joy of the unfortunate mariners at seeing
the moment of their deliverance so near, is impossible.—They
soon agreed with the master of the vessel to take them
and all their riches on board, for which they should work during
the voyage, and pay him eighty rubles on arriving in Russia.
Therefore they embarked, carrying with them two thousand
weight of rein-deer fat, many hides of the same animals,
the skins of the blue and white foxes and bears they had killed.
Neither did they neglect to carry away their spears,
their knife and axe, which were almost worn out, or their
awls and needles, which were carefully preserved in a box,
very ingeniously made of bone.

After spending six years and three months in this rueful
solitude, they arrived safe at Archangel on the 25th of September,
1749. But the moment of landing was nearly fatal to
the affectionate wife of Alexis Himkof, who happened to be
present when the vessel came into port. Immediately recognizing
her husband, she ran with such eagerness to embrace
him, that she slipped into the water, and very narrowly escaped
being drowned.

All the three survivors were strong and healthy; having
lived so long without bread, they could not be reconciled to
the use of it; neither could they bear spirituous liquors, and
drank nothing but water.

As they were vassals of Count Schuwalow, who then had
a grant of the whale fishery, M. Le Roy requested of him
that they might be sent from Archangel to St. Petersburgh,
where he could satisfy himself respecting their adventures.—Accordingly
two of them arrived, Alexis Himkof, aged about
fifty and Iwan Himkof about thirty. They brought some curious
specimens of their workmanship, so neatly executed,
that it was doubtful with what tools it could have been done.
From their account, both to M. Klingstadt, auditor of the Admiralty
at Archangel, and what they now communicated, M. Le Roy
composed the preceding narrative.

For centuries past Spitzbergen has been greatly resorted
to on account of the profitable whale-fishery of the surrounding
seas, and several shipwrecks, as well as incidents similar
to the preceding, have occurred there, and in the vicinity.—Spitzbergen
is a bleak and barren country, and received its
name from the lofty pointed mountains by which it is covered;
perpetual snow prevails, few plants spring from the soil, and
it is destitute of wood. But to compensate in some measure
[Pg 173]
for the scanty productions of nature by land, its seas, abundantly
stored with fish, can afford a copious supply both of food
and clothing to mankind.

LOSS OF THE AMPHITRITE CONVICT SHIP.

The following particulars of the loss of this vessel are copied
from a letter dated Boulogne-sur-mer, Sept. 1, 1833.

The shocking event which is announced by the title to this
letter, has, I assure you, filled the town with dismay, and
must lead to a most narrow and rigid investigation. I cannot attempt
to describe the afflictions not only of the English, but
the French, at this most distressing event, and I only express
the general opinion when I say that the British public demands
that an inquiry be instituted into the conduct of all
parties concerned in this deplorable affair.

The Amphitrite convict ship sailed for New South Wales
from Woolwich on the 25th of August. Capt. Hunter was the
commander; Mr. Forrester the surgeon; and there were 108
female convicts, 12 children and a crew of 16 persons. The
captain was part owner of the vessel. When the ship arrived
off Dungeness, the gale of the 29th began. On Friday morning
the captain hove the ship to, the gale being too heavy to
sail. The vessel was about three miles to the east from Boulogne
harbor on Saturday at noon, when they made land.—The
captain set the topsail and main-foresail in hopes of keeping
her off shore.

From three o’clock she was in sight of Boulogne, and certainly
the sea was most heavy and the wind extremely strong;
but no pilot boat went out to her, and no life-boats or other
assistance were dispatched. I observed her from three o’clock
till about half past four in the afternoon, when she came
round into Boulogne harbor and struck on the sands. By
four o’clock it was known that it was a British ship, but some
[Pg 174]
said it was a brig; others said it was a merchant vessel,
though all said it was English.

It appears from the statement of three men who have been
saved out of the crew—all the rest having perished, that the
captain ordered the anchor to be let go, in hopes of swinging
round with the tide.

In a few minutes after the vessel had gone aground, multitudes
rushed to the beach, and a brave French sailor, named
Pierre Henin, who has already received the thanks of the Humane
Society of London, addressed himself to the captain of
the port, and said that he was resolved to go alone, and to
reach the vessel, in order to tell the captain that he had not a
moment to lose, but must, as it was low water, send all his
crew and passengers on shore.

You will recollect that up to the time of her running
aground no measure was adopted, and the captain was not
warned from shore of her danger.

As soon as she had struck, however, a pilot-boat, commanded
by Francois Heuret, who has on many occasions shown
much courage and talent, was dispatched, and by a little after
five came under her bows. The captain of the vessel refused
to avail himself of the assistance of Heuret and his brave
companions, and when a portion of the crew proposed going
on shore the captain prevented them. Two of the men saved,
state that they knew the boat was under the bows, but that
the rest were below making up their bundles. The crew
could then have got on shore, and all the unfortunate women
and children.

When the French boat had gone, the surgeon sent for Owen,
one of the crew, and ordered him to get out the long
boat. This was about half past five. The surgeon discussed
the matter with his wife and with the captain. They were
afraid of allowing the prisoners to go on shore. The wife of
the surgeon is said to have proposed to leave the convicts
there, and to go on shore without them.

In consequence of this discussion, no long boat was sent
out. Three of the convict women told Owen, that they heard
the surgeon persuaded the captain not to accept the assistance
of the French boat, on account of the prisoners who
were on board.

Let us now return to Pierre Henin. The French pilot-boat
had been refused by the surgeon and captain—the long-boat
had been put out, through a discussion as to saving the
convicts—and it was now nearly six o’clock. At that time
[Pg 175]
Henin went to the beach, stripped himself, took a line, swam
naked for about three quarters of an hour or an hour, and arrived
at the vessel at a little after seven. On reaching the
right side of the vessel, he hailed the crew, and said, “Give
me a line to conduct you on land, or you are lost, as the sea
is coming in.” He spoke English plain enough to be heard.
He touched the vessel and told them to speak to the captain.
They threw (that is, some of the crew, but not the surgeon or
captain) two lines, one from the stern and one from the bow.
The one from the stern he could not seize—the one from the
bow he did. He then went towards the shore, but the rope
was stopped. This was, it is believed, the act of the surgeon
and captain. He (Henin) then swam back, and told them to
give him more rope to get on shore. The captain and surgeon
would not. They then tried to haul him in, but his
strength failed and he got on shore.

You perceive, then, that up to this moment also the same
obstacle existed in the minds of the captain and surgeon.—They
did not dare, without authority, to land the convicts, and
rather than leave them on board, or land them without such
authority, they perished with them.

The female convicts, who were battened down under the
hatches, on the vessel’s running aground, broke away the half
deck hatch, and frantic, rushed on deck. Of course they entreated
the captain and surgeon to let them go on shore in
the long-boat, but they were not listened to, as the captain
and surgeon did not feel authorized to liberate prisoners committed
to their care.

At seven o’clock the flood tide began. The crew seeing
that there were no hopes, clung to the rigging. The poor
108 women and 12 children remained on deck, uttering the
most piteous cries. The vessel was about three quarters of a
mile English from the shore, and no more. Owen, one of the
three men saved, thinks that the women remained on deck in
this state about an hour and a half. Owen and four others
were on the spars, and thinks they remained there three quarters
of an hour, but, seeing no hope of being saved, he took
to swimming, and was brought in a state of insensibility to the
hotel. Towsey, another of the men saved, was on a plank
with the captain. Towsey asked who he was? He said “I
am the captain,” but the next moment he was gone. Rice,
the third man, floated ashore on a ladder. He was in the aft
when the other men took to the raft. When the French pilot-boat
rowed away, after being rejected by the captain, he
[Pg 176]
(Rice) saw a man waving his hat on the beach, and remarked
to the captain that a gentleman was waving to them to come
on shore. The captain turned away and made no answer.—At
that moment the women all disappeared, the ship broke in
two.

These are the facts of this awful case. The French Marine
Humane Society immediately placed hundreds of men on
the beach; and the office, or lodging, being close to the shore,
as soon as the corpses were picked up they were brought to
the rooms, where I assisted many of my countrymen in endeavoring
to restore them to life. Our efforts were fruitless
except in the cases of the three men, Owen, Rice and Towsey.
I never saw so many fine and beautiful bodies in my life.
Some of the women were the most perfectly made; and
French and English wept together at such a horrible loss of
life in sight of—ay, and even close to, the port and town.—Body
after body has been brought in. More than 60 have
been found; they will be buried to-morrow. But alas! after
all our efforts, only three lives have been saved out of 136.

THE MUTINEERS, A TALE OF THE SEA.

There is scarce any one, we apprehend, who is in any considerable
degree conversant with the shifting scenes of human
existence, who does not know that many of the plain narratives
of common life possess an indescribable charm. These
unvarnished details of human weal and human wo, coming right
from the mint of nature, decline the superfluous embellishments
of art, and, in the absence of all borrowed lustre, clearly
demonstrate that they are “adorned the most when unadorned.”
They bear a most diametrical contrast to those figments
of diseased fancy, that nauseating romance about virgins
betrothed and lady love, which in so many instances elbow decency
and common sense from the pages of our periodical
literature as “unwelcome guests.”

[Pg 177]
It has frequently been said that sailors, above every other
class of men, have irrepressible hankerings after the wild and
wonderful. Certain it is, that he who will sit on a ship’s forecastle
of a bright moonlight evening, will hear of “hair-breadth
escapes,” and perilous adventures no less chivalrous and incredible
than those which Cervantes and the biographer of
Baron Munchausen have attributed to their respective heroes.
Although the following incidents may excite no very thrilling
interest, they have at least the merit of truth. The actors in
this short drama are still on the stage, ready to testify to
this narrative of facts.

On the morning of the 14th of April, 1828, the ship Gold Hunter
glided majestically out of the Liverpool docks, with
fair wind and tide. The Mersey, from Liverpool to Black
Rock, a distance of about three miles, was literally covered
with vessels of every character and nation, which had taken
advantage of the fair wind to clear the harbor. Here might
be seen the little French lugger, carrying back to Bordeaux
what its fruit and brandy had bought, as frisky in its motions
as the nervous monsieur who commanded it. At a little distance,
the square-shouldered Antwerper, sitting on the elevated
poop of his galliot, was enjoying, with his crew, a glorious
smoke. You could almost see them (and that, too, without
very keen optics) put care into their tobacco-pipes,
anxiety curled in fume over their heads. A not unfrequent
sight was the star-spangled banner floating in beauty over the
bosom of the wave. The serenity of the atmosphere, the ever-changing
brilliancy of the scene, the tout ensemble, were well
calculated to excite the most pleasurable emotions. Every
thing seemed to give the most flattering assurances of a voyage
of unruffled peacefulness.

This large squadron continued comparatively unbroken until
it reached Holyhead, where such vessels as were bound for
Scotland, or the north of Ireland, bore away from those which
were bound down the channel. The Gold Hunter, whose
destination was a port in the United States, was, of course,
in company with the latter class. Those on board of her
very naturally felt great gratification in perceiving that she
was not only the most splendid and graceful ship, but the
swiftest sailor in sight.

Before we proceed farther, however, we must in some measure
acquaint the reader with the inmates of the Gold Hunter.
Notwithstanding she was one of those floating palaces yclept
“Liverpool packets,” and the captain a finished gentleman
[Pg 178]
and skilful navigator, there were, on this trip, but two cabin
passengers,—an Irish gentleman (who had a short time before
sold his lieutenancy in the British army) and his sister. The
former had been engaged in some of England’s fiercest battles,
and won some of her brightest laurels. The reason which induced
him to dispose of his commission, and forsake the hardships
and honors of military life, was a desire to visit some
near relations, who, at an early period, had emigrated to this
country, and who were now enjoying respectability and a competence.
It was for this object that Mr. Kelly and his sister
had taken passage in the Gold Hunter, at the time of which
we are now speaking. It need hardly be said, that they felt
towards each other all that deep-toned and romantic affection
which in so characteristic a manner pervades Irish relationships.

The captain, who was a man of fine feeling and cultivated
intellect, spent most of his leisure moments in their company;
and many an evening, when the moon-beams played forth
brightly on the rippling water, and the bellying of the canvass
seemed to assure them they were hastening to the tender embraces
of those they loved, would they sit together on the
quarter-deck, while Miss Kelly enhanced the brilliancy of the
scene by singing some of those wild, touching melodies which
she had learned to warble on her own native hills. Thus,
“time trod on flowers,” and the incidental privations and inconveniences
of a sea voyage were greatly mitigated.

Nothing worthy of special notice occurred until about the
25th of April, when Mr. Kelly, who was walking on the
weather side of the main deck, accidentally overheard the following
conversation, between three or four of the crew, engaged
in caulking the seams just under the lee of the long-boat.

“I tell you, once for all, a cargo of silks and broadcloths
aint a-going to do us any good without the ready cash.”

“Ready cash! why, man, how many times must I tell you
that there is specie on board? the old man has two or three
thousand dollars, and Kelly has a bag of sovereigns, or my
eyes never saw salt water.”—“And the girl,” said a third voice,
which Mr. Kelly knew to be the steward’s—“and the girl did
not jingle her bag for nothing the other day, when she walked
by me: something there, or my head ’s a ball of spun-yarn.”

Kelly was transfixed with utter horror and amazement; but
fearful lest some one might perceive him, he crouched under
the long-boat, which afforded him a partial concealment. In
[Pg 179]
this situation, he listened with breathless anxiety, to the development
of their plans, so murderous that his very blood
ran cold in his veins.

When the villains came to the blackest, most awful, portions
of their scheme, their voices were instinctively hushed into
almost a whisper; so that it was only the general outline that
Kelly could gather. He found that it was their intention to
wait until some dark, dismal night, when they would rush on
the captain, himself and sister, and murder them in their beds,
rifle them of their money, and take possession of the ship. It
was their design to spare the life of the mate, whose services
they needed as a navigator. After having done all this, they
were to steer directly for the coast of Africa, where they hoped
to dispose of the cargo to the negroes. If successful, they
expected to carry thence to the West Indies a load of slaves—if
not, to abandon the ship entirely, taking with them the
specie, and whatever light articles of value they conveniently
could. They anticipated no difficulty in introducing themselves
into some of the settlements on the coast as shipwrecked
mariners; and, as vessels frequently left the settlements
for the United States, they supposed they might procure a
passage without exciting any suspicion.

Kelly was a man of such imperturbable self-command, that
he found no difficulty in repressing every symptom which could
indicate his knowledge of the diabolical conspiracy. It was
no part of his intention, however, to conceal any thing from
Capt. Newton; to the captain, therefore, he made an unreserved
disclosure of all that had come to his knowledge. At
first they were at a loss what measures to take: one thing
they thought of the greatest importance, which was to keep
Miss Kelly in entire ignorance of what was transpiring on
board. Some uncurbed outbreaking of alarm would be almost
certain, such was the excitability of her temperament. This,
in their present situation, might be attended with the most
disastrous consequences.