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Title: Tales of Shipwrecks and Other Disasters at Sea

Author: Thomas Bingley

Release date: April 10, 2020 [eBook #61803]

Language: English

Credits: E-text prepared by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)


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TALES OF SHIPWRECKS AND OTHER DISASTERS AT SEA.

by

THOMAS BINGLEY,

Author of "Stories about Dogs," etc.

Embellished with Engravings.






Boston:
Tappan & Dennet,
114 Washington Street.



[Illustration: LOSS OF THE FORFARSHIRE.

_Grace Darling and her father proceeding to the rescue of the
survivers._--P. 184.]




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.
                                                       PAGE.
  Uncle Thomas tells about the Adventures of Captain
  Richard Falconer,                                        7


  CHAPTER II.

  Uncle Thomas continues his Narrative of Captain
  Falconer's Adventures,                                  28


  CHAPTER III.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Vryheid,      51


  CHAPTER IV.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Mutiny of the Bounty,      75


  CHAPTER V.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Kent
  East Indiaman,                                         104


  CHAPTER VI.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Medusa,      126


  CHAPTER VII.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Winterton
  East Indiaman,                                         141


  CHAPTER VIII.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Royal
  George,                                                153


  CHAPTER IX.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Steamers
  Killarney and Forfarshire,                             164


  CHAPTER X.

  Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Albion
  New York Packet,                                       189


  CHAPTER XI.

  Uncle Thomas tells of the Loss of the Doddington
  East Indiaman,                                         202




TALES OF SHIPWRECKS




CHAPTER I.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN RICHARD FALCONER.


"Shipwrecks, Uncle Thomas! oh yes, we shall be delighted!" exclaimed
three or four voices, as the boys crowded round the fire, each striving
who should sit nearest their kind old Uncle, who delighted to amuse
them by telling them the nicest little stories in the world, of
which, in the course of his reading, he had gathered together a great
store. He had already related to them, with much applause, a variety
of "Stories about Dogs," as well as "Stories about the Instinct of
Animals," and now proposed to commence a series of narratives, "Tales
of Shipwrecks, and other Disasters at Sea," a proposal which his little
audience, as we have above stated, received with unbounded delight.

I am glad you have chosen Shipwrecks, Uncle Thomas, I am so very fond
of such stories. I have just finished Robinson Crusoe, and almost wish
I was, like him, cast away on a desert island, that I might have my man
Friday, and my goat, and my gun!--It would be delightful!

I am afraid, Frank, you would not find it so delightful as you seem
to think. However, as you like it so much, I will begin my tales by
relating the adventures of Captain Richard Falconer, who was cast away
on a desert island, and show you how he fared.

Falconer was a native of Bruton, England. His mother died when he was
very young, and being thus thrown on his father's care, he was his
constant companion. Having been a great traveller in his youth, the
elder Falconer delighted to recount his adventures, and his son thus
acquired an ardent desire to follow in his steps. With this view, as
he grew up, he often begged that his father would allow him to become
a sailor. His father knew better, however, and always replied to his
solicitations by saying, "Stay where you are; you know not the hazards
and dangers that attend the life of a sailor: think no more of going to
sea, for I know that it is only the desire of youth, fond of change,
which now actuates you; and if I were to give you leave, one week's
voyage would make you wish you were at home!" Young Falconer, however,
was not satisfied with this reasoning, and again and again besought his
father to comply with his request. All his entreaties were, however,
unavailing, till at length an event happened which put an end to his
father's scruples.

The elder Falconer held the situation of collector of taxes, and having
collected a large amount of revenue, he was unfortunately robbed of
it, before he could pay it over to government. Fearful that some
negligence, of which he had no doubt been guilty, would expose him
to punishment, and being thus a ruined man, he resolved to retire to
some place where he was unknown, and thus escape the vigilance of his
enemies.

One morning he called his son to him, and said, "Richard, you have
often been desirous of going to sea, and I have always endeavored to
dissuade you from it; but as what has happened makes it impossible for
me to remain any longer in the place of my birth, I must now recommend
you to the way of life which I should never have chosen for you, but
that my circumstances will not now allow me to provide for you in any
other way. Here," continued he, "take this money, which I can ill spare
out of my little fortune; but since it is all I can do for you, take
it, and may Heaven prosper you! May the blessing of a father, whose
prayers shall ever be sent to the Almighty Creator for your welfare,
always be with you. Here is a letter to Captain Pultney, of Bristol,
whose friendship, I am sure, will be of service to you." Then, with
tears in his eyes, he embraced his son, and once more gave him his
blessing, and took his leave forever. They never saw each other again!

Having packed up a few things in a portmanteau, Falconer gave them to
an old servant of his father's, who, to show his gratitude in the only
way he had in his power, determined to see him as far as Bristol. They
set out in the morning, and reached it by noon.

Captain Pultney received him with great cordiality, and promised to do
everything in his power to promote his views, and when, by his advice,
Falconer had studied the mathematics, and he thought him capable of
performing the duties of mate, he sent him on board the Albion frigate,
commanded by Captain Wise; and, on the 2nd of May, they set sail
for Jamaica, with a fair wind. As soon as they lost sight of land,
Falconer began to be extremely sea-sick, and he bore the rough jokes of
the sailors very indifferently. One cried out, "There's an excellent
master's-mate; he'll hit Jamaica to a hair, if the island was no bigger
than the bung-hole of a cask!" However, in a day or two, he perfectly
recovered, and was never afterwards troubled with sea-sickness.

Nothing material happened till they entered the Bay of Biscay, when
they encountered a dreadful storm; the billows ran very high, and the
vessel seemed to be the sport of the waves. So high did these run, that
a ship, that overtook the Albion the day before, and accompanied it,
was sometimes altogether lost sight of, though they were not half a
furlong distant from each other: this continued for three days, when
the storm abated something of its fierceness, though it still blew very
hard. The other vessel, by firing a gun and showing a signal, made
it appear that she was in distress; but the sea ran so high, that it
was impossible to afford her any assistance; yet, the Albion, being
to windward, bore down upon her, to be as near as possible without
endangering her own safety. They found that she had sprung a leak, and
though they had all hands by turns at the pump, yet the water gained
upon them. They begged the crew of the Albion to hoist out a boat, as
their own was stove. They accordingly sent out their long-boat, with
two men, but the rope that held her to the ship unfortunately broke,
and she drove away with the two men in her, who were never afterwards
heard of. They undoubtedly were either swallowed up by the sea, or
perished of hunger, as they were then twenty leagues from shore. The
ship sunk in less than ten minutes afterwards, with fifty-seven men on
board, of whom four only were saved by clinging to the ropes which had
been thrown out to them by the crew of the Albion.

From the four men who were thus saved, they learned that the vessel,
which had sunk, was a pirate, which, but a short time before, had
attacked a French ship, murdered the captain, and such of the crew as
would not agree to join them, and that they were only waiting for the
abating of the storm in order to attack the Albion. They also said,
they were forced, with several others, to become pirates; but whether
this was true or false, they behaved with great propriety during the
remainder of the voyage.

On the 28th of May they made the Canaries, and saw the peak of
Teneriffe. On the 4th of July, they anchored in Carlisle Bay,
Barbadoes, after a desperate action with a pirate, who boarded them,
but was beat off. On the 20th of July they sailed for Jamaica, on the
1st of August anchored at Nevis, and on the 7th of September arrived in
Port Royal harbor.

Finding that the affairs of the ship would detain it about half a
year in Jamaica, Falconer obtained leave of the captain to go in a
sloop, with some of his companions, to obtain logwood, at the Bay of
Campeachy, on the South American coast; and on the 25th of September,
they set out on this expedition. For six days they sailed merrily on
their course, with a fair wind, towards the Bay; but on the seventh,
the clouds darkened, and the welkin seemed all on fire with lightning,
and the thunder roared with frightful violence. In short, a dreadful
hurricane approached. The sailors had furled their sails and lowered
their topmasts, waiting for it under a double-reefed foresail. At
length it came with extreme violence, which lasted three hours, until,
as if exhausted, it insensibly abated, and was followed by a complete
calm.

On the 6th of October they anchored at Trist Island, in the Bay of
Campeachy, and sent their men ashore at Logwood Creek, to seek for the
logwood cutters, who immediately came on board. The bargain was soon
struck; and, in exchange for rum and sugar, and a little money, they
got in their cargo in eight days, and again set sail for Jamaica.

During the homeward voyage, Falconer one day went down into the hold to
bottle off a small parcel of wine which he had there: on coming upon
deck again, wanting to wash himself, he went into the boat astern,
which had been hoisted out in the morning to look after a wreck. Having
washed and dressed himself, he took a book out of his pocket, and sat
reading in the boat; when, before he was aware, a storm began to rise,
and finding that he could not get up at the ship's side as usual, he
called for the ladder of ropes that hangs over the ship's quarter, in
order to get up that way. Whether it broke through rottenness, it being
seldom used, is uncertain, but down he fell into the sea; and though
the ship immediately tacked about to take him up, yet, as evening was
now coming on, and the storm had considerably increased, they soon lost
sight of him. For some time he swam boldly in the direction in which
he expected to see the vessel, but at length he was forced to drive
with the wind, which, fortunately, set in with the current; and having
managed to keep himself above water for about four hours, he felt his
feet touch the ground; and at last, by a great wave, was thrown upon
the sand.

It being now quite dark, he knew not what to do; but got up and walked
as well as his numbed limbs would let him, and every now and then
was overtaken by the waves, which were not high enough, however, to
wash him away. When he had got far enough, as he thought, to be out
of danger, he began to examine what sort of place it was upon which
he had been thrown: he could not, however, discover anything of land,
and conjectured that it was but some bank of sand, that the sea would
overflow at high tide. He now sat down to rest his weary limbs, and
prepare himself for death, which, it was evident, was now staring him
in the face. At last he fell asleep, though he tried all he could to
prevent it, by getting up and walking, till he was obliged, through
weariness, to lie down again.

When he awoke in the morning, he found that he was on a low, sandy
island, surrounded by several others of the same description, and
separated from each other, about half a mile or more, by the sea.
Finding that things were thus not quite so bad as he had anticipated,
he became a little cheerful, and walked about to see if he could
discover anything that was eatable, as he now began to get very hungry;
but, to his great grief, he found nothing but a few eggs, which he was
obliged to eat raw. The fear of starving seemed now to be worse than
that of drowning; and often did he wish that the sea had swallowed
him, rather than have thrown him on this desolate island; for he could
perceive, from their flatness, that they were not inhabited either
by man or beast, being only resorted to by sea-fowl. To complete his
misery, there was not to be found one drop of fresh water on the
island, so that he was forced to drink sea-water for two or three days,
which caused his skin to peel off, and made him very ill. At last his
misery so increased, that he frequently resolved to terminate his
existence, but desisted, in the expectation that some alligator, or
other voracious creature, would come and do it for him.

One day he discovered a bird, called a booby, sitting upon a bush,
and ran immediately, as fast as he could, and knocked it down with a
stick. Without for a moment considering whether it was proper food, he
sucked the blood and ate the flesh with such a pleasure, as none can
express but those who have felt the pain of hunger to the same degree.
He afterwards discovered many more of these birds, which he killed.
Being now pretty well off for food, he began to consider whether he
could not with two sticks make a fire, as he had seen the blacks do in
Jamaica, and at last, after many trials, happily accomplished it. He
then plucked several of the boobies which he had caught, and broiled
them as well as he could.

At night, he was exposed to a great storm of rain and thunder, with the
reddest lightning he had ever seen, and was completely drenched; his
clothes, which consisted of a pair of thin shoes and thread stockings,
and a canvass waistcoat and trowsers, were thoroughly wet; but he had
the happiness to find in the morning several cavities of rain-water.
Having already suffered so much from using sea-water, he now thought
of making a deep well, that he might have water continually by him. He
took a piece of wood, and pitched upon a place under a bush, where,
with his hands and the stick together, he dug a hole, big enough to
contain a hogshead of water; then he put in stones and paved it, and
got in and stamped them down hard all round, and, with his stick,
beat the sides close, so as to make it completely water-tight. But the
great difficulty was how to get the water there: this, however, he at
length effected, by means of a sort of bucket made from a part of his
clothing. Having been so successful in this matter, he now felt greatly
elated, and thought he should not be very badly off for a long while;
for, besides the store of water, he had, ready broiled, forty boobies,
designing to allow himself half a one a-day. Fortunately, he remained
always in good health, being only a little troubled with headache,
from the sun beating on his head, having lost his hat in the water, in
falling down from the vessel's side. For a time he remedied this as
well as he could, by gathering a parcel of chicken-weed, which grew in
plenty around, and strewing it over the bushes under which he sat; but
at last, finding that he might be longer there than he expected, he
tore off one of the sleeves of his shirt, and made himself a cap, which
he covered with green sprigs, twisted with bark.

By the time he had been a month on the island, his skin became as
brown, by constant exposure, as if it had been rubbed over with walnut
shells. He several times thought of swimming to one of the other
islands; but as they looked only like heaps of sand, he felt convinced
that he had got the best berth, so contented himself with his station.
He began, however, to feel very lonely, and was so wicked as to wish to
have companions in his misfortune, and every day hoped either to see
some vessel come that way, or a wreck, where, perhaps, he might find
some necessaries which he wanted. He used to fancy, that if he should
be forced to stay there long, he should lose his speech; so he used to
talk aloud, asking himself questions, and answering them. If anybody
had been by to have heard him, they would certainly have thought him
crazy, he often asked himself such strange questions. He was destined
to be visited by companions in misfortune sooner than he expected; but
I must tell you how this happened on some other occasion. I am afraid I
have already detained you too long this evening.

Oh no, Uncle Thomas!

Very well, boys, to-morrow evening I will go on with Captain Falconer's
adventures, and we will see how Frank likes this sort of life on a
desert island.

Ah, but Uncle Thomas, this was not a nice island, like Robinson
Crusoe's! There were no large trees to make a canoe of, or any goats;
and I don't see very well where Friday is to come from!

I understand you, Frank; you would like it only if you had the choosing
of your place, with plenty of conveniences of every kind. Good night.




CHAPTER II.

UNCLE THOMAS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN FALCONER'S ADVENTURES.


One morning, during Falconer's residence on the sandy island, of
which I told you last evening, a violent storm arose, which continued
till noon. In the meantime, Falconer discovered a ship laboring with
the waves, and having watched it earnestly for several hours, he at
last saw it tossed by the violence of the tempest completely out of
the water upon the shore. He ran to see if there were anybody whom
he could assist, when he found four men (being all there were in the
vessel) busy saving what they could. When he hailed them in English,
they seemed mightily surprised; and asked him how he came there, and
how long he had been on the island. When he told them his story, and
described the barrenness of the place, they were very much concerned
for themselves, for they feared there was no possibility of getting
their bark off the sands, the wind having forced her so far; and began
to bemoan each other's misfortunes. To Falconer, however, their mishap
afforded a source of secret satisfaction, for he soon found that they
had on board plenty of everything.

They now set to work in order to secure such provisions as were in the
ship, as well as such utensils as they would find useful, including a
fowling-piece and some gunpowder. They then took off the sails from
the yards, and, with some pieces of timber, raised a hut big enough to
hold twenty men, under which they put the beds which they got from
the bark. It is true they had no shelter from the wind, for the bushes
were so low they were of no use; but for all this, Falconer now thought
himself in a palace, and was as merry as if he had been once more at
Jamaica, or even at home in his own country. In short, when they had
been there some time, they began to be very easy, and having plenty
of food, were content to wait patiently till God should send them
assistance.

Though they had plenty of fishing tackle, they found it of little use,
as they had no boat to go a little way from shore to catch fish; they
therefore set their wits to work, in order to make a float, and at last
they hit upon this odd project: they took six casks, and tarred them
all over, then stopped up the bung-holes with corks, and nailed them
close down with a piece of tarred canvass. These six casks they tied
together with some of the cordage of the vessel, and upon them they
placed the moveable hatches from the deck, and fixed them, and made the
float so strong, that two men might sit upon it; but for fear a sudden
storm should arise, while they happened to be at sea, they tied to one
end of it a coil or two of small rope, of 500 fathoms long, which they
fixed to a stake on the shore. Two of the party then went out, in order
to see what success they should have; but returned with only one fish,
about two feet long, something like a shark. Next day, however, they
were more successful, returning with two of the same kind of fish, and
a young shark about two feet long, which were dressed for dinner, and
proved excellent eating.

They now began to consider what could be done to enable them to escape
from their confinement. On examining their ship carefully, they found
that it was all sound; and though the violence of the storm had carried
it considerably beyond the reach of ordinary tides, and though nearly
buried by the drifting of the sand, that there was nothing to prevent
their being able to launch it into deep water once more. They therefore
set determinedly to work, and after sixteen days' hard labor, they at
last succeeded.

At length, on the 31st of December, they launched their vessel, and
designing to set sail on the following day, they resolved to celebrate
their deliverance by a carousal. They accordingly got very merry, and
when their punch was all done, they went to bed. Instead of sleeping
in the tent, however, Falconer remained on board the bark, while his
companions, as usual, slept on shore. During the night, one of the
sudden storms, so common in these latitudes, arose, and tore the bark
from its moorings, and carried it out to sea, Falconer all the time
sleeping soundly below, quite unconscious of the danger to which he was
exposed.

By the time he awoke in the morning, the storm had so much abated, that
he remained unconscious of what had happened, till going on deck to
call his companions, he found that he was in the middle of the ocean,
far out of sight of land.

For fourteen days, he continued tossed about at the mercy of the
winds and waves. During the whole time, he saw but one ship, but it
was at such a distance, and bore away so fast, that no succor could
be expected. At length his vessel was driven so close in shore as to
attract notice. He was then boarded by two canoes, containing one
Spaniard and six Indians, to whom, by means of broken French, he
explained his condition. They carried him on shore, and introduced him
to the governor, by whom he was kindly received. The place happened to
be a Spanish settlement on the coast of South America.

By the kindness of the governor, the ship was once more fitted out, and
manned, to go in search of Falconer's companions, who had been left
on the island. In fifteen days they reached the island, where they
found them in a most pitiable condition. They had consumed all their
provisions, and had no means of getting more; indeed, for some days
they had subsisted on the most filthy and revolting food.

Having received them on board, they again set sail; and it now occurred
to Falconer that, in order to complete his equipment, five of the men
who composed his crew had been released from prison, where they had
been confined on suspicion of piracy. A thought came into his head,
which had escaped him before. He considered if these were really
pirates, being five to four, they might be too powerful for him and
the rest of his crew, and perhaps murder them. One day, as they all
dined together upon deck, under an awning, it being very calm weather,
he asked the five men, what was the reason that they were taken for
pirates by the Spaniards. At first they seemed nonplussed; but one
of them, named Warren, soon recovered himself, and answered for the
others, saying that they embarked on board the ship Bonaventure, in the
Thames, bound for Jamaica, whither they made a prosperous voyage; but
after taking in their cargo, on their way home, they were overtaken by
a storm, in which their ship was lost, and all the men perished, except
himself and four companions, who were saved in the long-boat; and that
as they were making to shore to save themselves, they saw a bark riding
at anchor without the port of Campeachy, which they approached in order
to inquire where they were, and to beg some provisions, their own being
gone. On entering the vessel, however, they found but two people in it;
the third, jumping into the water, swam on shore, and brought three
boats, filled with Spanish soldiers, which came on board before they
could make off. "Make off!" said Falconer. "What, did you design to run
away with the vessel!" "No," answered Warren, with some confusion; "we
only intended to weigh anchor, and go farther in shore, that we might
land in the morning, it being late at night."

The fact of the fellow being nonplussed now and then, Falconer did not
at all like, but, upon consideration, he thought it might be for want
of words to express himself better; so he took no more notice of it. In
the evening, however, Middleton, one of their crew, came to him with
a face of concern, and told him that he did not like these fellows'
tale. "Why so?" said Falconer. "Because they herd together," answered
he, "and are always whispering and speaking low to one another. If a
foreboding heart may speak, I am sure we shall suffer something from
them, that will be of danger to us."

Upon this, Falconer began to stagger in his opinion of their
honesty, and, therefore, he and his friends resolved to be upon
their guard. They took no notice of their conversation to their two
other companions, but resolved to wait till night, having a better
opportunity then, as they slept together in the cabin. When suppertime
arrived, the five sailors excused themselves from joining the rest
of the crew, by saying they had dined so lately that they were not
hungry, which gave the others an opportunity to converse together
sooner than they expected. They, therefore, opened the matter to their
two companions, and they agreed immediately that they were in danger;
so they resolved in the middle watch of the night to seize them in
their sleep. It had been previously arranged that Falconer and his
friends were to have the first watch, which was at eight o'clock; the
others were to watch till twelve; and then, in the third watch, between
one and two, Falconer and his companions had determined to seize upon
the pirates as they slept. It having previously been found convenient
that one of the pirates should form part of the captain's watch, they
agreed, before commencing operations, to seize and bind him fast, and
to threaten him with death if he offered to make the least noise.

As soon as the first watch was set, one of the party proceeded to
prepare their arms. In about half an hour, or thereabouts, Warren,
who had acted as spokesman, called to Hood, the man who had joined
the captain's watch, to get him a little water; whereupon he went
down immediately with some water to him. As soon as he was gone
below, Falconer drew as near the hatchway as he could, to hear the
conversation. Hood having been employed that day looking over the
provisions, that he might know how long they would last, the others
had not an opportunity to disclose their design to him. As soon as he
was gone down, he could hear Warren say to him, "Hark ye, Frank, we
had like to have been smoked to-day; and though we had contrived the
story that I told you, yet I was a little surprised at their asking
me, because then I did not expect it; but we intend to be even with
them in a very little time; for, hark ye--" said he, and spoke so low
that he could not be overheard. Upon which, the other said, "There
is no difficulty in the matter; but we need not be in such haste, for
you know, as we ply it to windward, a day or two can break no squares,
and we can soon bear down to leeward to our comrades, that we left on
shore; for I fancy," added he, "that they have some small suspicion
of you now, which in time will sleep, and may be on their guard:
therefore, it is better to wait a day or two."

"No; we'll do it to-night when they are asleep," replied Warren;
whereupon there were many arguments for and against both plans. A
little while afterwards, Hood came up again; and after walking up and
down for some time, fixing his eyes often upon Falconer, he said very
softly, "If you please, Mr. Falconer, I have a word or two to say to
you, that much concerns you all." "What is it?" asked he. "Why,"
answered the other, "let us retire as far from the scuttle as we can,
that we may not be heard by any below deck." So they went into the
cabin, and opened the hatchway above, that Musgrave, who steered, might
hear what was said. Hood then began as follows,--"My four companions
below have a wicked design upon you; that is, to seize you, and set you
adrift in the boat, and to run away with the vessel; but as I think it
is an inhuman action, not only to any one, but to you in particular,
who have been the means of their freedom, I have thought it best to
give you warning." Finding from this conversation that he was sincere,
Falconer told him that he was provided against it already, and informed
him of their design to seize his companions in the third watch. "But,"
said he, "they intend to put their project in practice next watch;
therefore, I think it will be necessary to counterplot them, and seize
them at once." "As they have no arms," said Falconer, "and we have, we
need not fear them."

They had several debates about the proper time to carry their scheme
into effect, which, unfortunately, took up so much time, that Warren,
distrusting Hood, it seems, got up, and stealing softly, came so close
that he overheard everything that was said. As soon as he understood
what was going forward, he went and informed his companions, upon
which they resolved to attack the crew at once. In the midst of this
consultation, Falconer and his companions were, therefore, surprised by
the pirates, who seized them, which they did with such quickness that
they were all confounded and overpowered before they had time to make
the least resistance. They then handcuffed them and tied their legs
together so as completely to prevent their moving.

In this state the mutineers left them till it was broad day, when
they came and unbound their legs, and gave them leave to walk upon
deck; whereupon Falconer began to expostulate with them, particularly
with Warren, as he seemed to have a sort of command over the others.
"And what," asked he, "do you intend to do with us, now you have
secured us?" "Do with you? why, by-and-bye, we intend to put you into
the boat, and turn you adrift; but, for that Hood, we'll murder him
without mercy! The scoundrel! to betray us! But as you have not so
much injured us, we'll put you immediately into the boat, with a week's
provisions, and a small sail, and you shall seek your fortune, as I
suppose you would have done by us." "No," answered Falconer, "we only
designed to confine you till we came to Jamaica, and there to have
given you your liberty to go where you thought fit. Put us ashore on
any land that belongs to the English, and we will think you have not
done us an injury." "No," said he, "we must go to meet our captain and
fifty men, upon the mainland of Yucatan, where our vessel was stranded.
Our first design," continued he, "when we were taken in our boat, was
to get us a vessel to go buccaneering, which we had done at Campeachy,
if it had not been for the Indian who swam on shore, unknown to us, and
brought help too soon."

[Illustration: _Warren, therefore, ordered him to be tied to the mast
of the vessel, and loaded a pistol to shoot him through the head._--P.
47.]

When the conspirators had got everything ready, that is to say, a
barrel of biscuit, another of water, about half a dozen pieces of beef,
and as much pork, a small kettle, and a tinder-box, and were about to
commit their unfortunate companions to the mercy of the sea, a sudden
accident changed the face of affairs.

Before they departed, the mutineers determined to let them witness
the death of Hood. Warren, therefore, ordered him to be tied to the
mast of the vessel, and loaded a pistol to shoot him through the
head, not knowing that it was charged before. They all entreated for
the poor fellow, and he himself fell upon his knees, and begged them
to spare him; but Warren swore bitterly that nothing should save
him: with these words he cocked his pistol and levelled it at Hood,
but in firing, it split into several pieces, and one struck Warren
into the skull so deep, that he fell upon deck. One of the bullets
grazed the side of Falconer's temple, and did but just break the skin:
Hood, however, escaped unhurt; but he was so alarmed at the noise of
the pistol, that he broke the cords which tied him. Finding himself
unhurt, he ran to Falconer and his companions and unbound their arms,
unperceived by the other two, who were busy about their unfortunate
companion. Before the man that steered could come to their assistance,
Hood had unbound Falconer, and stopped the interference of the
steersman by giving him a blow with his fist, that knocked him down. In
the meantime, the rest of the crew were released, and they speedily
secured the other two pirates.

After they had bound them in turn, they went to see what assistance
could be given to Warren, when they found that a piece of the barrel
of the pistol had sunk into his skull, and that he was just expiring.
"You have overpowered us," said he, "and I see the hand of Heaven is in
it. I was born of good, honest parents, whose steps if I had followed,
would have made my conscience easy at this time; but I forsook all
religion, and now, too late, I find that to dally with Heaven is
fooling one's self: but yet, in this one moment of my life which is
left, I heartily repent of all my past crimes." With that he crossed
himself and expired.

Falconer and his companions now made sail for Jamaica, where, after a
variety of adventures, and being again taken by pirates, they at length
arrived. From thence they sailed for England, which they reached in
safety.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER III.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE VRYHEID.


To-night, boys, I am going to give you an account of perhaps one of
the most heart-rending shipwrecks with which I am acquainted; the more
so that upwards of four hundred and fifty lives were lost, in all
probability, entirely in consequence of the obstinacy of the captain.

Four hundred and fifty lives, Uncle Thomas! The very number is
appalling.

It is indeed, John; but it is nevertheless true, that if the captain
had taken the advice of those who warned him of the danger into which
he was running, he and his crew might have escaped, as you shall hear.
The shipwreck I refer to, is that of the Vryheid, which took place near
Dover, in the beginning of the present century.

The Melville Castle, a British East Indiaman, after having performed
the usual number of voyages, was sold by the East India Company to
an agent of the merchants of Amsterdam, trading to the East Indies.
She was carried to Amsterdam, where she underwent a tolerable repair
in her upper works, and was new sheathed and coppered, but her knees
and timbers remained in a very decayed state. Thus patched up, the
Company tendered her to the Dutch government, which was then in want
of a vessel to carry out troops and stores to Batavia. A surveyor
was immediately ordered on board, who reported that the ship was in
perfect repair, and wanted nothing but the necessary stores to equip
her for the intended voyage. She was accordingly furnished with all the
requisite stores, was painted throughout, and received the name of the
Vryheid.

Having received on board the troops, consisting of three hundred and
twenty men, the flower of the regiment, who were selected out of nearly
one thousand, to form the second battalion of marines in the service
of the Batavian republic, the ship got under way on the morning of the
21st November, 1802, and proceeded with a favorable breeze till early
in the morning of the following day, when it began to blow a heavy
gale from a contrary direction. The captain immediately ordered the
top-gallant masts and yards to be struck, when the vessel appeared to
ride easier than before. As the day opened, however, the wind blew with
increased violence, and every exertion of the crew to render the ship
manageable, proved ineffectual.

The most serious apprehensions soon began to be entertained for
the safety of the vessel; and the state of the ladies on board was
particularly distressing. Some embraced their helpless offspring and
wept over them in speechless agony, while others in vain implored their
husbands to procure the means of landing them in safety on their native
shore, and to give up the voyage. The commander, Captain Scherman,
was himself in a very trying situation. His wife was on board, with
an infant only three months old; and her affliction was aggravated
by being surrounded with so many females, fondly weeping over their
little ones, and earnestly entreating assistance of the captain, who
had the utmost difficulty to prevail on them to leave him, so that he
might attend to the duties of his station.

The ship continued to drive before the wind till about three o'clock in
the afternoon, when the storm increased to a perfect hurricane. Soon
after that hour, the mainmast went by the board, with a tremendous
crash, and, in its fall, swept overboard several of the crew, besides
wounding four or five others. This disaster greatly augmented the
fears of all on board. The captain himself, the admiral, and the other
officers, now seemed to consider their lives in the most imminent
danger; for though they were so near the Kentish shore, that they could
discern objects on land, yet the waves, which then rolled mountains
high, totally precluded the possibility of their receiving assistance.

In this emergency they hoisted a signal of distress, and after very
great exertion, they managed to bring the ship to anchor at the
entrance of Hythe Bay; but as it was now quite dark, they could
obtain no assistance from the shore, though the wind was not quite so
tempestuous. By the captain's orders the crew were plentifully regaled,
and a beam of hope illumined every countenance; but, alas! it was but
of momentary duration. The ship was found to have sprung a leak: all
hands were ordered to the pumps; and while they were thus employed, the
storm again came on with redoubled violence.

Universal consternation now prevailed, and the piercing shrieks of the
women and children, at each successive blast of wind, were sufficient
to unman the stoutest heart. Every relief that circumstances would
admit was afforded by the ship's company and the troops, to the
unfortunate ladies, many of whom were, by this time, clinging round
their husbands and fainting in their arms.

They remained in this dismal situation for several hours, during which
the greatest order and sobriety reigned on board, till about six
o'clock on the succeeding morning, when the vessel parted from her best
bower-anchor, and drifted towards Dymchurch Wall, about three miles to
the westward of Hythe. They continued to fire guns of distress, and
kept the signal flying during the whole of the morning. At day-break,
a pilot-boat put off from Dover, and coming near, recommended the
captain to put back to Deal or Hythe, and to remain till the weather
became more moderate. "If you proceed," said the boatman, "all hands
will be lost; you are evidently unacquainted with the coast, and
if the gale should continue, no power on earth can save you." The
captain, however, conceiving the danger to be less imminent than was
represented, neglected this advice, hoping that, as the day opened,
the wind would abate, when he should be enabled to put into some bay
or port, without being obliged to comply with the demands of the Dover
pilots, or pay the Downs fees for coming to anchor there.

The pilot-boat had scarcely left the ship, when the commodore at
Deal despatched two boats to endeavor to board the ship, when the
unaccountable and fatal obstinacy of the captain was again strikingly
displayed; the crew were ordered to let the vessel drive before the
wind, and to pay no attention to the recommendations of the commodore.
The boats then fired several shots as a further signal to bring to,
but these were equally disregarded. A few minutes afterwards, one of
the boats passed close under the stern, and as the ship had lost her
mainmast, desired she would immediately put about and stand for the
first port. But to this, like the former solicitations, they gave no
reply, and the gale increasing, they soon lost sight of both the boats.
The ill-fated captain was now in a state of the greatest agitation,
and bitterly repented his refusal to take a pilot on board, but it was
now too late; the roar of the sea was terrific, and such a tremendous
swell, that the chance of any relief being afforded from the shore was
completely prevented.

The wind now blew a perfect hurricane from the south and south-west;
the signal-guns they continued to fire incessantly, and the captain
twice attempted to put the ship about, but all his exertions proved
fruitless. She was now near Dymchurch Wall, where the coast, for the
space of above two miles, is protected from the encroachment of the sea
by overlaths and immense piles, and is further secured by large wooden
jetties stretching far into the sea. On the first of these jetties the
unfortunate vessel struck.

In this desperate situation, with the wind becoming more and more
boisterous, the captain ordered the mizenmast to be cut away, and all
the water in the hold to be started, by staving the casks; while a
part of the crew, under the direction of the officers, were incessantly
employed at the pumps. They also threw nearly the whole of the ballast
overboard; but in spite of all their exertions, the danger seemed every
moment to increase. So maddening was the reflection of what might have
been their situation had a pilot not been refused, that the officers
could not refrain from reproaching the captain with having slighted the
advice of the English in the boats: he appeared to be deeply sensible
of his error, but it was now too late.

The admiral recommended the sheet anchor to be cut away, which was
accordingly done, but, notwithstanding this precaution, the unfortunate
ship continued to beat upon the piles, and the sea to break over her
with such violence, that the men were no longer able to remain in the
hold. The pumps had now become so completely choked with sand and mud,
that they were rendered totally useless, and a speedy destruction of
the vessel and all on board appeared to be inevitable. The foremast
soon afterwards went over the ship's side, carrying along with it about
twelve of the crew, who were soon swallowed up by the waves. The ladies
now began to prepare for the worst, and several of them, for greater
security, were handed to the bowsprit, attended by their husbands. The
others chose to wait their fate on the quarter-deck, where stood the
miserable Captain Scherman, in silent despair at the unavailing cries
for assistance of those around him; while his unfortunate wife, in all
the bitterness of maternal anguish, was clinging to his feet.

About eight o'clock, the rudder was discovered to be unshipped, while
the tiller was tearing up the gun-deck, and the water rushing in
with fearful rapidity at the port-holes. At this moment most of the
passengers and crew joined in solemn prayer to the Almighty; and while
engaged in this act of devotion, the sea, foaming dreadfully, made a
breach completely over them, so that they were obliged to exert every
effort to prevent their being swept out of the ship. From the uncommon
fury and roaring of the waves, the signal-guns, which they continued
to fire from time to time, could scarcely be heard even on board; and
no hope remained of their obtaining assistance from the shore. As a
last expedient, the captain gave orders to cut away the anchors from
the bows, when a violent swell immediately parted them, and the ship
drifted with irresistible force farther on the piles.

The morning was unusually dark, and to aggravate the horrors of the
terrific scene, the ship was not more than four or five cables' lengths
from the shore; so that the crew could see that there were several
people on the Wall, but who were unable to afford them any assistance.
It was now half past eight, when a tremendous sea dashed with such
force against the ill-fated vessel, that, after rocking like a cradle
for two or three seconds, her timbers split, and she immediately
broke in pieces. About one hundred and seventy persons were instantly
overwhelmed by the furious element, and not one of them ever reached
the land. The wreck, thus torn asunder, still presented nearly three
hundred miserable objects clinging to the various parts that remained
above water; while the tremendous noise of the foaming billows was
drowned by the piercing shrieks and cries of the hapless women and
children.

At the earnest request of the admiral, the jolly-boat, which was
hanging over the stern, was now launched; and he, together with
the colonel and eight females, were helped into it. They had not,
however, proceeded far when a dreadful sea broke over them, and the
boat instantly disappeared. In a few moments the colonel was observed
endeavoring to support his wife above water, when a wave overwhelmed
them, and they also sank to rise no more.

As the ship was now settling rapidly, each determined to risk some
experiment to reach the shore. The captain proposed to his wife that
they should make themselves fast to a large hen-coop, and commit their
lives to the mercy of the waves. A few of the crew having cut away
the coop, they with great difficulty made fast the captain and Mrs.
Scherman, and after an affectionate parting, lowered them down over the
stern. They had nearly reached the Wall, followed by the anxious looks
of those who had remained on board the wreck, when a large piece that
had been detached from it, was violently dashed against them, and they
were never seen to rise again.

Painful as this spectacle must necessarily have been to the remaining
survivers, their attention was completely absorbed in contriving means
for their own preservation. A lieutenant, his wife, and two female
domestics of the unfortunate admiral, still remained on the wreck, and
the men agreed to make one more effort to save them. Seizing one of
the hatches which had been torn asunder, they fastened it to a piece
of the quarter-galley, and lashed the females to the planks, while the
lieutenant, who was a good swimmer, stripped himself, and having taken
a rope round his waist, the raft was lowered into the water. They had
scarcely been a few seconds upon the water, when a violent gust of wind
overset the raft, and every soul on it was hurried into eternity. Thus
perished all the officers and females who had remained on the stern of
the wreck.

About this time, the bowsprit was torn asunder from the other parts
of the wreck. I have already told you that many of the females and
officers had taken refuge upon it, and the number of persons about the
rigging and various parts of the bows was now above a hundred, who were
driven towards the Wall by the violence of the surf. Those who were
upon the stern watched the progress of their companions with the utmost
solicitude, and just as they supposed them to be beyond the reach of
further danger, a tremendous sea broke over them, and whelmed them all
in one general destruction.

The surface of the ocean was instantly covered with their bodies, and
many of the unhappy creatures had almost reached the shore; but wave
upon wave succeeded each other with fearful rapidity, and finally
triumphed over all their exertions. Among the most distressing
instances of individual suffering, was that of a captain of the
marines, who was swimming with one hand, and with the other endeavoring
to support his wife by the hair of her head; till, overcome by cold and
fatigue, he turned round, clasped her in his arms, and both sank amid
the waves.

The wreck, meanwhile, was gradually disappearing, and many of
the seamen and marines, successively seizing on various timbers,
precipitated themselves into the danger they were so anxious to avoid;
but it may naturally be supposed, that after so many dreadful examples,
those who still remained on the wreck should not be willing to attempt
similar experiments. Of these there were now not more than forty-five
on both parts of the wreck, which frequently became so entangled,
that the men were near enough to hold a conversation with each other.
Their fate, however, was now rapidly approaching to a crisis; from all
parts, the planks were being torn away, and each succeeding wave was
fatal to two or three of the wretched survivers. At length, two of
the seamen determined to lash themselves to a large hog-trough, and
endeavor to reach the land: they were handed over the larboard side,
and after a miraculous escape from coming in contact with a fragment of
the drifting wreck, they fortunately succeeded in reaching the shore in
safety, being the first out of all the adventurers who had quitted the
ship that were successful.

Their success greatly contributed to animate the exertions of those
whom they had left behind, and who instantly fell to work to construct
a raft, which, in a few minutes, was sufficiently compact for them
to make the attempt. To this frail structure did the survivers commit
their lives; and they had scarcely got clear of the wreck, when a heavy
sea struck it with such violence, that it was dashed into a thousand
pieces. The situation of those on the raft was now peculiarly awful,
from the numerous fragments of the wreck, which were floating about
in every direction, and by the violence of their motions threatening
instant destruction. They continued, however, to drift nearer the Wall,
when they were run foul of by a piece of the wreck, which swept off
eighteen out of the thirty-three who were upon the raft, and wounded
most of the others in a greater or less degree; at the same time they
were driven forward with such velocity, that it was impossible to
afford any relief to those who were struck off. About ten minutes
after this fatal accident the survivers succeeded in reaching the
long-wished-for shore, half dead with fatigue and the severe bruises
which they had received.

Thus, of four hundred and seventy-two persons, who, but a few days
before had left the city of Amsterdam, and who were but a few hours
before on board the Vryheid, in full health and confidence of security,
not more than eighteen escaped. This wretched remnant of the crew of
that ill-fated vessel received from the inhabitants of the adjacent
coast, such generous attention, as not only contributed to their
recovery, but amply relieved all their necessities. The bodies of the
unfortunate sufferers, which were scattered along the coast for many
miles, were likewise collected, and decently interred. The bodies
of Captain Scherman and his wife, and many of the officers and their
ladies, were committed to the grave with every mark of respect.

Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! Poor, poor Captain Scherman; what shocking
reflections must have been his when he found what fearful effects were
resulting from his obstinacy!

They must have been shocking indeed, Frank. Let us gather wisdom from
his experience, dreadful as it was, and learn from it that an obstinate
and self-willed adherence to our own opinions, in opposition to those
whose experience leads them to take a different view from us, is not
only culpable, but highly dangerous--how dangerous, in this instance,
may perhaps be gathered from the fact, that a small merchant vessel,
which left the Texel on the same day as the Vryheid, took a pilot on
board off Margate, and was brought safe into port, without losing a
single hand during the storm.

Good night, boys; to-morrow I have a long and interesting tale to tell
you about the Mutiny of the Bounty.

Good night, Uncle Thomas!




CHAPTER IV.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY.


Good evening, Uncle Thomas! we are come to hear about the Mutiny of the
Bounty.

Very well, boys, it is a long story, so I shall begin at once.

In the year 1787, it having been represented to the British Government,
that the introduction of the Bread-fruit tree into the West India
islands would be of great benefit to the inhabitants, a vessel was
fitted up, in the most commodious manner, for the reception of the
plants, and placed under the command of Lieutenant Bligh, who had
previously sailed with Captain Cook on his voyage round the world.
Her crew consisted of thirty-four persons, besides two intelligent
botanists, who were added to the expedition for the purpose of
managing the plants during the voyage, as well as undertaking their
transplantation on board the vessel, and on their arrival at the place
of destination.

On the 23d December, the Bounty sailed from Spithead, and on the 26th
encountered a severe storm from the eastward, which continued for three
days, during which the ship suffered considerably. They therefore found
it necessary to touch at Teneriffe, in order to refit. Having put
everything to rights, they again sailed, on the 10th January, 1788.

For nearly a month they struggled hard against the tempestuous weather
which they encountered on their attempts to reach the Society Islands,
where the plants were to be procured, by the route of Cape Horn, but at
length, finding all their efforts ineffectual, they bore away for the
Cape of Good Hope, where they once more found it necessary to replenish
their stock of provisions and water.

At length, on the 26th of October, they came to anchor in Matavai Bay,
in the island of Otaheite. The ship was soon crowded by natives, and
two messengers arrived from Otoo, the chief of Matavai, each bringing a
small pig and a young plantain-tree, as a token of friendship. Captain
Bligh now went on shore, accompanied by a chief named Poeenoo, and was
everywhere received in the most friendly manner, the women clothing
him in the Otaheitan fashion, and afterwards accompanying him to the
boat. In a few days the most friendly relations were established with
the natives, and presents of small articles were bestowed on the chief,
who was told that the king of England had sent him these on account of
the kindness of his people to Captain Cook, as well as from a desire
to serve him and his countrymen. At the same time he was asked if
there was nothing he would like to send to the king in return. "Yes,"
said he, "I will send him anything I have," and immediately began
enumerating such articles as the island afforded, and among others
mentioned the bread-fruit. He was immediately told that this was what
would please the king very much, and a number of young trees were
promised to be sent on board.

For upwards of five months the Bounty remained at Matavai, when,
having at length obtained upwards of one thousand plants, she set sail
on the 4th of April, after bidding a most affectionate farewell to
these kind and simple-hearted islanders.

On the 23d, they reached the island of Annamooka, where they remained
till the 26th, carrying on a brisk trade with the natives in yams,
plantains, hogs, fruits, &c. From thence the ship stood northward all
night, and at noon on the following day they were between the islands
of Tofoa and Kotoo.

So far the voyage had been one of uninterrupted prosperity. They
had hitherto succeeded in the object of their mission, and to all
appearance it was likely to result in the most complete success. These
fair prospects were, however, destined to be suddenly overclouded
by one of the most systematic, as well as cautious and deliberate
mutinies, upon record.

[Illustration: _They pulled Captain Bligh out of bed, forced him upon
deck, and placed him under a guard._--P. 81.]

About sunrise of the morning of the 28th April, Captain Bligh was awoke
by Fletcher Christian, one of the mates, and three others, who tied
his hands behind his back, and threatened him with instant death if he
spoke or made the least resistance. They then pulled him out of bed,
forced him on deck in his shirt, and placed him under a guard with
Christian, who seemed to be the ringleader at their head. To all his
entreaties and enquiries as to the reason for this violence, their only
answer was a command to hold his tongue, with threats of having his
brains blown out if he did not instantly comply.

The mutineers then ordered the boatswain to hoist the launch out, and
several of the officers were ordered into it. As Captain Bligh now
saw the fate that awaited him and the obnoxious members of his crew,
he once more made an effort to reason with those around him, but was
immediately checked, and again threatened with instant death. When they
had succeeded in getting rid of such of the crew as they disliked, the
mutineers forced the captain over the ship's side into the boat, and
after subjecting their victims to much ridicule, and making sport of
their situation, they at length cast them adrift on the open sea! As
the vessel sailed away, they could hear the mutineers shouting "Huzza
for Otaheite!" It was therefore supposed that the enticements of a
delightful climate and the allurements of a continuance of the life of
unrestrained indulgence which they had recently led on that island,
had tempted them to the commission of the crime of which they had been
guilty.

The launch (a boat twenty-three feet in length) contained nineteen
persons; and the quantity of provisions which they had been permitted
to secure, amounted to only one hundred and fifty pounds weight of
bread, about thirty pounds of pork, six quarts of rum, six bottles of
wine, and twenty-eight gallons of water.

Thus abandoned, Captain Bligh and his companions directed their course
to Tofoa, in the hope of there obtaining a supply of bread-fruit
and water. They had at first great difficulty in finding any of the
natives; at length, however, having fallen in with two of them, several
others soon collected, from whom they obtained a small supply of such
articles as they wanted. By degrees the number of natives increased,
and they began to show symptoms of some hostile design; but they were,
for the time, overawed by the undaunted behavior of Captain Bligh.
As the evening advanced, however, they continued to congregate, all
carrying stones in their hands, which they continued knocking together
in token of attack, and on the party proceeding to embark with the
provisions which they had accumulated, the attack commenced. They had
all got in safety to the boat, and one of the men jumped on shore
in order to untie the rope by which it was fastened, when he was
instantly knocked down and murdered in the most inhuman manner. Finding
that there was no hope of lending assistance to their unfortunate
companion, they hastily pushed off. Some of the natives got into their
canoes, and gave chase, throwing the stones with which they were
armed, with such power and effect as nearly to disable every person on
board. Fortunately, it occurred to Captain Bligh to drop some clothes
overboard, when the canoes stopping to pick them up, allowed them to
get a little ahead of their pursuers, and it being now almost dark,
they gave up the chase.

Seeing that there was now no hope of relief until they reached Timour,
a distance of full twelve hundred leagues, where there was a Dutch
settlement, Captain Bligh and his companions bent their course across
an ocean whose navigation was then little known, exposed as well to the
dangers of the deep as to famine, their little store only allowing them
to serve out one ounce of bread and a quarter of a pint of water per
day.

Captain Bligh has left a very interesting journal of their sufferings
during this long and hazardous voyage, from which I will read you a few
of the daily entries. It was about eight o'clock at night on the 2nd of
May, that they bore away from Tofoa, and having divided the people into
watches, and put the boat somewhat in order, they returned thanks to
God for their miraculous preservation.

On the 3d, it blew a violent storm, and the sea ran so high, that they
were obliged to keep constantly bailing, and were in great apprehension
that the bread, which was in bags, would be spoiled; to prevent this
they threw overboard all superfluous clothes, with some spare sails
and ropes, in order to lighten the boat, and emptying the carpenter's
chest, stowed the tools at the bottom of the boat, and put the bread
into the chest.

On the morning of the 5th, the gale had abated, and the boat was
running among some islands; but after their reception at Tofoa, they
did not venture to land. Upon examining the state of their bread, they
found that a great part of it was damaged; but even this was carefully
preserved for use. The next day they still continued to see islands at
a distance; and for the first time, to their great joy, they hooked a
fish, but were miserably disappointed by losing it, as they were trying
to get it into the boat. They were dreadfully cramped from the want of
room, which they endeavored to remedy by putting themselves at watch
and watch; one half sitting up, while the others lay down in the bottom
of the boat, with nothing to cover them, and so constantly wet, that
after a few hours' sleep, they were scarcely able to move.

On the 7th, they passed close to some rocky isles, from which they
were pursued by two large sailing canoes, but in the afternoon they
gave over the chase. Soon after, it began to rain very heavily, when
every person on board did his utmost to catch some water, by which
they increased their stock to thirty-four gallons, besides quenching
their thirst for the first time since they had been in the boat. The
following day they had an allowance of an ounce and a half of pork, a
tea-spoonful of rum, half a pint of cocoa-nut milk, and an ounce of
bread. The afternoon was employed in cleaning out the boat, and getting
everything dry and in order. Hitherto Captain Bligh had issued the
allowance by guess, but he now made a pair of scales with two cocoa-nut
shells, and finding some pistol balls in the boat, which weighed
twenty-five to the pound, he adopted one of these as the weight of
bread to be served to each person at one time.

On the 9th they experienced a violent storm of thunder and lightning.
They collected about twenty gallons of water; but were so miserably wet
and cold, that a tea-spoonful of rum was served to each. The weather
continued extremely bad, and the wind so increased, that hardly one
of them got any sleep that night. The morning of the 10th brought no
relief except its light. The sea broke over the boat so much, that two
men were kept constantly bailing; and it was necessary to keep the boat
before the wind to prevent its filling. The allowance was now one
bullet-weight of bread and a quarter of a pint of water, at eight in
the morning, at noon, and at sunset, with the addition of half an ounce
of pork for dinner.

The weather had not at all improved on the following day, and their
situation was becoming extremely dangerous from the constant running of
the sea over the stern, which kept them baling with all their strength;
but at noon they were much enlivened by the appearance of the sun,
which gave them great pleasure.

On the 12th it rained towards the evening, and they again experienced a
dreadful night. When the day came, they were in no way refreshed by the
little sleep they had, as they were constantly drenched by the sea and
rain; and though the men were shivering with wet and cold, the captain
was under the disagreeable necessity of informing them, that he could
no longer afford them the scanty pittance of a tea-spoonful of rum.

The stormy weather and heavy seas continued unabated on the 13th and
14th, and on these days they saw distant land and passed several
islands, the sight of which increased, rather than alleviated the
misery of their situation; as an attempt to procure relief was
considered to be attended with so much danger, that it was thought
advisable to remain as they were, rather than encounter the risk.

The 15th, it was still rainy, both day and night; it was so dark that
not a star could be seen by which steerage could be directed, and the
sea was continually breaking over the boat: this continued on the 16th,
when they passed a truly horrible night, with storms of thunder,
lightning, and rain. The dawn of the 17th brought no relief; and the
suffering from wet and cold had been so severe, that they were obliged
to break their rule, and serve a tea-spoonful of rum to each. The night
was again dark and dismal, and nothing but the winds and waves to
direct their steering.

On the 18th the rain abated, when they stripped and wrung their
clothes, which greatly refreshed them; but every one of them complained
of violent pains in their bones. At night the rain re-commenced,
with thunder and lightning, which continued without intermission
till the 21st, when they were so drenched with rain and salt water
during the whole of the afternoon, that they could scarcely see; and
on the following day their situation was extremely calamitous. They
were obliged to run right before the storm and keep a strict watch,
as the slightest error in the helm would have instantly caused their
destruction. During the night the misery they endured was excessive,
so much so that they expected another such a night would put an end to
the sufferings of several of them; but on the 24th the wind moderated
towards the evening, and the night was fair. In the morning they
experienced relief, from the warmth of the sun, for the first time
during the last fifteen days.

As the sea now began to run fair, Captain Bligh took the opportunity to
examine their stock of bread, and found there was sufficient, according
to their present rate of allowance, to last twenty-nine days, which
was about the time they expected to be able to reach Timor: but as
this was uncertain, and it was possible they might be obliged to go
to Java, they determined to reduce their present scanty rate, so as to
make the stock hold out six weeks. This was effected by continuing the
same quantity for breakfast and dinner as usual, and discontinuing the
supper allowance.

At noon of the 25th, some noddies came so near to the boat, that
they caught one of them, about the size of a small pigeon. This was
divided, with its entrails, into eighteen portions, and distributed
by the following method:--one man stood with his back to the object,
while another, pointing separately to each portion, asked aloud, "Who
shall have this?" to which the first answered by naming somebody, until
the whole number had been served. By this impartial method, each man
stood the same chance of obtaining an equal share. They had also an
allowance of bread and water. In the evening several boobies came near
them, and they were fortunate enough to catch one about as large as a
duck. This they killed for supper, and, giving the blood to three of
the people who were most distressed, the body, with the entrails, feet,
and beak, were divided into eighteen shares, and distributed as before;
and having with it an allowance of bread, the whole made an excellent
supper.

On the 28th, at one o'clock in the morning, the man at the helm heard
the sound of breakers. It was the barrier reef which runs along the
eastern coast of New Holland, through which it now became their anxious
object to discover a passage. The sea broke furiously over the reef,
but within was so smooth and calm, that they already anticipated the
heartfelt satisfaction they should experience, as soon as they should
pass the barrier. At length they discovered a break in the reef, about
a quarter of a mile in width, through which they passed rapidly with a
strong stream running to the westward, and came almost immediately into
smooth water.

They offered up their thanks to the Almighty for his merciful
protection of them, and then, with more contentment than they had yet
been able to feel, took their miserable allowance of a bullet-weight
of bread and a quarter of a pint of water for dinner. They now began
to see the coast very distinctly, and in the evening they landed on
the sandy point of an island, where they soon discovered that there
were oysters: they also found plenty of fresh water. By the help of
a small magnifying glass, a fire was made; and they discovered among
the things that had been thrown into the boat a tinder-box and a piece
of brimstone, so that in future they had the ready means of making a
fire. One of the men had been provident enough to bring with him from
the ship a copper pot, in which they made a stew of oysters, bread and
pork, and each person received a full pint.

They now enjoyed a few luxurious meals of oysters and palm-tops stewed,
without consuming any of their bread. They also collected a quantity
of oysters, which they put on board the boat, and filled their vessels
with fresh water, to the amount of nearly sixty gallons. Upon examining
the bread, they found about thirty-eight days' allowance remaining.

Being now ready for sea, every person was ordered to attend prayers;
and just as they were on the point of embarking, about twenty naked
savages made their appearance, and beckoned them to come near; but as
they were armed with spears and lances, it was thought advisable to
decline the invitation, and proceed on their voyage.

At length, after a variety of adventures, and the endurance of
privations almost unexampled, on the 11th of June Captain Bligh
announced the pleasing intelligence to his companions, that an
observation of longitude appeared to indicate that they had passed the
meridian of the eastern part of Timor. This joyful news filled every
heart with exultation, and all eyes were intently directed to the
quarter in which land was expected to appear. Evening fell, however,
without their being able to discover any trace of it; but by day-break
on the following morning, a cultivated coast, finely diversified with
hill and dale, appeared, stretching in a wide extent before them.--This
was Timor!

It is almost impossible to describe the wild tumult of joy, the
intense and inexpressible delight, which filled their hearts at the
sight of land! Their thoughts rapidly reverted to the varied events
of their fearful passage, till it appeared scarcely credible, even
to themselves, that in an open boat, so poorly provided, and under
circumstances every way so calamitous, they should have been able to
reach the coast of Timor in forty-one days after leaving Tofoa, having
in that time run, by their log, a distance of three thousand six
hundred and eighteen nautical miles: and this, notwithstanding their
extreme distress, without the loss of a single individual.

The governor of the island received them with the greatest hospitality.
After remaining a short time at Timor, they proceeded to Batavia. Here
Captain Bligh was seized with a fever; and as his life was in danger
from the heat of the climate, he was obliged to leave the island
without loss of time. He accordingly sailed in a packet, and arrived
in England in March, 1790. The crew were accommodated with passages
home as opportunity offered, but though apparently all in good health
when Captain Bligh left, they did not all live to quit Batavia. The
hardships which they had undergone had so undermined the constitutions
of several, as rendered them unable to support the rigor of such an
unhealthy climate; but of the nineteen who were forced into the launch
by the mutineers, it pleased God that twelve should surmount the
difficulties and dangers of this unparalleled voyage, and live to visit
their native land.

But, Uncle Thomas, what became of the mutineers?

Another vessel, boys, was fitted out by the British Government to
proceed in search of them. Several of them were taken and brought to
England, where, after being tried, three of them were executed. Some
of the others who had been forced to join the mutiny were pardoned.
From the statements of these men, it appeared that quarrels soon
sprang up among them after Captain Bligh's departure, and several of
them suffered violent deaths--among the rest, Christian, who you will
recollect was the most active among them, was murdered by one of the
natives. The death of Christian was the signal for a general rising
among the natives, who, by this time, had become tired of the English;
some of them were killed, and others, among whom was a man named John
Adams, escaped, wounded, to the woods. They were joined by several
females, to whom they had formed attachments, with whom they escaped
and established themselves on what has since been called Pitcairn's
Island. For twenty years nothing was heard of them, till two British
vessels, happening to touch at the island, the crews were astonished to
find it inhabited, and more so when they were accosted in their native
tongue by the inhabitants.

Matters were soon explained. They found Adams, a fine-looking old man,
of nearly sixty years of age. He was revered as the father of the
colony, and ruled with a paternal sway over his little kingdom. He died
in 1829.

But I must stop. I fear I have already detained you too long to-night,
boys,--So good night!

Good night, Uncle Thomas.




CHAPTER V.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE KENT EAST INDIAMAN.


Good evening, Uncle Thomas! We were very much interested with the
account you gave us of the Mutiny of the Bounty. As we came along we
were thinking what a shocking thing it would be for a ship to take fire
at sea. Do such misfortunes ever take place, Uncle Thomas?

Yes, boys, they do, though much less frequently than one would expect.
The sailors are very careful, and are prohibited from using lights
after certain hours. I can tell you about the loss of a large East
Indiaman, which caught fire in the Bay of Biscay, and was completely
destroyed.

Oh! do let us hear it, Uncle Thomas!

On the 19th February, 1825, the Kent, a fine new vessel, commanded by
Captain Henry Cobb, bound for Bengal and China, left the Downs. She had
on board a crew of one hundred and forty-eight men, including officers,
with twenty military officers, three hundred and forty-four soldiers,
forty-three women, and sixty-six children, belonging to the 31st
regiment, and twenty private passengers; making in all six hundred and
forty-one persons.

The Kent proceeded prosperously on her voyage until the night of the
28th February, when her progress was arrested by a violent gale from
the west, which gradually increased during the following morning. So
violent was the storm, that at every lurch the main chains of the
vessel were considerably under water, and the various articles of
furniture were dashed about the cabin with such noise and violence, as
to excite the liveliest apprehensions of danger.

The utmost activity of the officers and crew of the Kent was called
into exercise, and everything was done in order to secure the safety of
the vessel. In the course of his duty, one of the officers went into
the hold, accompanied by a couple of sailors, in order to see that all
was fast. They carried with them a patent lantern, and seeing that the
lamp burned dimly, the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the
deck to be trimmed. Having discovered that one of the spirit casks had
broken loose from its fastenings, he sent the sailors for some billets
of wood to secure it; but the ship in their absence having made a
heavy lurch, the officer unfortunately dropped the lamp, and letting
go his hold of the cask, in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it
suddenly stove, and the spirits communicating with the flame, the whole
place was instantly in a blaze.

So long as the flames appeared to be confined to the spot where the
fire originated, which was surrounded on all sides by water casks,
hopes were entertained that it might be subdued; but no sooner was the
light blue vapor, that at first arose, succeeded by volumes of thick
dingy smoke, which, speedily ascending through all the four hatchways,
rolled over every part of the ship, than almost all hope of saving
the vessel was abandoned. "The flames have reached the cable tier!"
was exclaimed by some individuals; and the strong pitchy smell that
pervaded the deck, soon confirmed the truth of the exclamation.

In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and
decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the
danger, resorted to the fearful experiment of ordering the lower decks
to be scuttled, and the lower port-holes of the vessel to be opened,
for the free admission of the waves.

These orders were speedily executed, but not before several of the
unhappy passengers had perished from suffocation. So dense and
oppressive was the smoke, that it was with the greatest difficulty any
person could remain long enough below deck to execute the captain's
wishes, but no sooner were they accomplished, than the sea rushed in
with extraordinary force, carrying before it the largest chests,
bulk-heads, and other weighty articles. The immense quantity of water
thus introduced, had the effect of checking the fury of the flames for
a time, but a new source of danger suddenly opened upon them--the ship
becoming water-logged, and seemed in danger of going down.

The scene of horror that now presented itself almost baffles
description. The upper deck was covered with between 600 and 700 human
beings, many of whom, from previous sea-sickness, were forced, on the
first alarm, to flee from below, in a state of absolute nakedness, and
were now running about in quest of husbands, children or parents. While
some were standing in silent resignation, or in stupid insensibility,
to their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to frantic
despair. Some on their knees were earnestly imploring the mercy of Him
whose arm, they exclaimed, was at length outstretched to smite them;
others were to be seen hastily crossing themselves, and performing
various external acts required by their particular persuasion; while
a number of the older and more stouthearted soldiers and sailors took
their seats directly over the powder magazine,--hoping, as they stated,
that by means of the explosion which they every instant expected, a
speedier termination might be put to their sufferings.

All hope had departed, and the employment of the different individuals
indicated an utter despair of rescue. One was to be seen thoughtfully
removing a lock of hair from his writing-desk to his bosom, and another
officer, procuring paper, addressed a short communication to his
father, which he afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope
that it might eventually reach its destination, and relieve him from
the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense, which the melancholy
fate which hung over him might awaken. At this appalling instant, when
all hope of being saved was taken away, it occurred to Mr. Thompson,
the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent
wish that some friendly sail might be descried on the face of the
waters, than with any expectation that it would be realized. For a
moment the sailor who ascended threw his eyes around the horizon--a
moment of unutterable suspense--and then, waving his hat, exclaimed,
"A sail, on the lee bow!" The joyful announcement was received with
heartfelt thanksgivings, and answered by three loud cheers from those
on deck; the signals of distress were instantly hoisted, minute-guns
fired, and endeavors made, under three topsails and foresail, to bear
down upon the stranger, which proved to be the Cambria, a small brig of
two hundred tons burthen, commanded by Captain Cook, and bound to Vera
Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and some agents
of the Anglo-Mexican company.

For ten or fifteen agonizing minutes, the crew of the Kent were in
doubt whether the brig perceived their signals, or, perceiving them,
was either disposed or able to give them any assistance. From the
violence of the gale, as they afterwards learned, the report of the
guns was not heard, but the ascending volumes of smoke from the ship
sufficiently announced the dreadful nature of their distress; and
after a short period of the greatest suspense, they saw the brig hoist
British colours, and crowd all sail to hasten to their relief.

While the vessel was approaching, arrangements were made for getting
out the boats, so as to have all in readiness so soon as she came
within a reasonable distance. Before hoisting out the boat, it was
filled with the officers' ladies and the female passengers, and as
many of the soldiers' wives as it could safely carry. They hurriedly
wrapped themselves in whatever articles of clothing they could first
lay their hands on; and, at about half past two o'clock, a most
mournful procession advanced from the after-cabins to the starboard
cuddy-port, from the outside of which the cutter was suspended. Not a
sound was heard--not a syllable was uttered--even the infants ceased
to cry, as though conscious of the unspoken anguish that was rending
the hearts of their parting parents; nor did aught occur to break the
solemn stillness of the scene, save in one or two instances, when the
ladies plaintively entreated to be left behind with their husbands; but
being assured that every moment's delay might occasion the sacrifice
of life, they successively suffered themselves to be torn from the
tender embrace; and, with a fortitude which never fails to characterize
and adorn their sex on occasions of overwhelming trial, were placed,
without a murmur, in the boat, which was immediately lowered into so
tempestuous a sea, as to leave them only to hope against hope, that
it should live in it for a single moment. Twice the cry was heard from
those on the chains that the boat was swamping; but He who enabled the
apostle Peter to walk on the face of the deep, was graciously attending
to the silent, but earnest, aspirations of those on board, and had
decreed its safety.

Although every precaution was taken to diminish the danger of the
boat's descent--a man having been stationed at each end, with an
axe, ready to cut the ropes, in case of any difficulty occurring in
unhooking it from the tackle by which it was lowered--yet the extreme
difficulty of the operation had nearly proved fatal to the whole of its
precious cargo. After one or two unsuccessful attempts had been made
to place the little frail bark fairly upon the surface of the water,
the command was given to unhook: the stern tackle was immediately
cleared, but the ropes at the bow having got foul, the sailors there
found it impossible to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to
the entangled tackle. The moment was inconceivably critical, as the
boat, necessarily following the motions of the ship, was gradually
rising out of the water, and must in another instant have been hanging
perpendicularly by the bow, and its helpless passengers precipitated
into the sea, had not a wave providentially struck the stern and lifted
it up, so as to enable the seamen to clear the tackle; and the boat,
being dexterously disentangled from the ship, was soon seen battling
with the billows in its progress to the brig--one instant like a speck
upon their summit, and then disappearing for several seconds, as if
engulfed in the horrid vale between them.

The Cambria having prudently lain at some distance from the Kent,
lest she should be involved in her explosion, or exposed to the fire
of the guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards went off as they
were successively reached by the flames, the boat had a considerable
distance to row. The interval of its leaving the Kent, and its arrival
at the side of the Cambria, was a time of most intense interest; at
length, however, it reached her in safety, and the inmates, one after
another, arrived on board.

It being impossible for the boats, after the first trip, to come
alongside the Kent, a plan was adopted for lowering the women and
children by ropes from the stern, by tying them two-and-two together.
But from the heaving of the ship, and the extreme difficulty of
dropping them at the instant the boat was underneath, many of the poor
creatures were unavoidably plunged repeatedly under water: all the
women, from their superior strength, were happily able to endure this
rough usage, but, unfortunately, several children fell victims.

Amid the conflicting feelings and dispositions manifested by the
numerous actors in this melancholy drama, many affecting proofs
were elicited of parental and filial affection, or of disinterested
friendship, that seemed to shed a momentary halo around the gloomy
scene.

Two or three soldiers, to relieve their wives of a part of their
families, sprang into the water with their children, and perished in
their endeavors to save them. One young lady, who had resolutely
refused to leave her father, whose sense of duty kept him at his
post, was very near falling a sacrifice to her filial devotion, not
having been picked up by those in the boats until she had sunk five
or six times. Another individual, who was reduced to the frightful
alternative of losing his wife or his children, hastily decided in
favor of his duty to the former: his wife accordingly was saved, and
four fine children, alas! left to perish. One fine fellow, a soldier,
who had neither wife nor child of his own, but who evinced the greatest
solicitude for the safety of those of others, insisted on having three
children lashed to him, with whom he plunged into the water; but not
being able to reach the boat, he was drawn back again into the ship,
yet not before two of the children had expired. One man fell down the
hatchway into the flames. But the numerous instances of individual loss
and suffering were not confined to the commencement of the perilous
voyage between the two vessels: one man, who fell between the boat and
the brig, had his head literally crushed; while some were lost in their
attempts to ascend the sides of the Cambria.

As the day was drawing to a close, and the flames were now slowly, but
perceptibly, extending, the gallant commanders felt increased anxiety
for the safety of the remainder of the brave men under their charge.

To facilitate this object a rope was suspended from the extremity of
the spanker-boom, which projects from sixteen to eighteen feet over the
stern, and, in such a large ship as the Kent, on ordinary occasions
rests about nineteen or twenty feet above the water. In order more
readily to reach the boats, and to prevent the danger of their being
stove by approaching too close to the vessel, the men were directed
to proceed along the boom and slide down by the rope. But as from the
great swell of the sea, it was impossible for the boats to retain their
station for a moment, most of those who adopted this course, were
either left for a time swinging in mid-air, or plunged into the sea,
and perhaps violently flung against the boat as it once more approached
to their rescue.

At length, when nearly every person was removed, and when those only
remained whom fear had so overcome as to prevent their availing
themselves of the means of escape, even at the urgent request of
those in the boats, Captain Cobb quitted the ill-fated vessel, and
shortly after the boat in which he was reached the Cambria, the flames,
which had spread along the upper deck of the Kent, ascended with the
rapidity of lightning to the masts and rigging, forming one general
conflagration, and illuminating the heavens to an immense distance,
until the masts, one by one successively, fell like stately steeples
over the ship's side. At last, about half-past one in the morning, the
fire communicated to the powder magazine, the long-threatened explosion
took place, and the fragments of the magnificent Kent were instantly
hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air.

The Cambria now made all sail to the nearest port, and, though the
violence of the gale continued, she arrived at Falmouth shortly after
midnight on the 3d of March, when her unfortunate crew were received
with the utmost kindness by the inhabitants, and their wants instantly
attended to.

Were those that remained on board the Kent all lost, Uncle Thomas?

No, not the whole of them, boys. Wonderful to relate, the flames
and the explosion attracted the notice of the crew of another ship,
named the Caroline, on her passage from Alexandria to Liverpool, who
immediately set their sails and bore down upon the wreck. They were
fortunately in time to save twelve persons whom they found floating
about on a mast. The captain of the Caroline, with the greatest
humanity, remained in the neighborhood all night, in the hope of
assisting any who might have taken refuge on other parts of the wreck.
In the morning they rescued two more of the unfortunate survivers,
being all that they could discover, from the floating masses of wreck.
But the sky beginning to assume a stormy aspect, the boat which had
been sent out was forced to return to the ship, which once more
proceeded on her voyage.

Was rum the cause of this sad disaster, Uncle Thomas?

Yes, my boys, rum did all the mischief.

Then we will have no rum on board of our ship, when we are men, will
we, John? for it is of no use, father says.




CHAPTER VI.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE MEDUSA.


Good evening, boys. The tale which I am going to tell you this evening,
so far exceeds in misery and crime all of those which I have already
told you, that it is almost necessary for me, before I begin, to
assure you that it really happened. I question indeed, if the wildest
imagination could have contrived to conjure up such a complication of
disasters.

It must be something very terrible indeed, Uncle Thomas!

It is, boys;--but you shall judge for yourselves. On the restoration
of the general peace, in the year 1814, the French possessions
on the west coast of Africa, which had been taken by the British
forces, were agreed to be given up. An expedition, consisting of a
frigate and three other vessels, having on board nearly four hundred
persons, men of science, artisans, agriculturists, &c, was accordingly
despatched, in June, 1816, to take possession of them. The naval part
of the expedition was entrusted to an officer named Lachaumareys, who
commanded the Medusa, of forty-four guns.

In consequence of the ignorance of the officers of the ship of the
navigation of the coast, the Medusa unfortunately run aground on the
bank of Arguin, on the coast of Africa. After in vain trying every
means of getting her off, and finding that all hope of saving the
vessel was useless, they took measures to secure the safety of the
crew and passengers. Finding that the boats did not afford sufficient
accommodation for the whole, a raft was hastily constructed; but in
the tumult of abandoning the wreck, it happened that the raft, which
was destined to carry the greatest number of persons, had on board the
smallest quantity of provisions.

When all was ready, the boats pushed off, towing the raft, those on
board assuring the passengers on the raft that they would conduct them
in safety to land. They had not proceeded above a couple of leagues,
however, when, one after another, the boats cast off the tow-lines, and
left the raft to its fate, each striving to make off with all possible
speed.

By this time it was discovered that the raft was completely
overloaded, and the articles of which it was composed becoming
saturated with water, it sunk below the surface, so as to immerse every
person on board nearly up to the middle in water. Finding themselves
thus abandoned, and threatened every instant with being swallowed
up in the deep, the most horrible ideas took possession of their
imaginations; they gave themselves up to despair. With some difficulty,
the officers who were on board succeeded in restoring their men to a
certain degree of tranquillity. Their own confidence had well nigh
given way when they found that they were in the middle of the ocean,
without chart or compass on the raft. It was discovered that one of the
men had preserved a pocket-compass, but in their anxiety to secure this
invaluable little instrument, it fell from the hands of the person who
held it, and disappeared between the openings of the raft.

As night came on, the breeze freshened and the sea began to swell. By
midnight the weather had become very stormy, the waves breaking over
them in every direction. During the whole night the unhappy wretches
struggled against death, holding firmly by the spars to prevent
themselves from being swept away, tossed by the waves from one end to
the other, sometimes precipitated into the sea, floating between life
and death; "mourning over our misfortunes," says one of the survivers,
"certain of perishing, yet contending for the remains of existence with
that cruel element which threatened to swallow us up. Such was our
situation till break of day--horrible situation! How shall we convey
an idea of it which will not fall far short of the reality?"

In the morning the wind abated and the sea subsided a little, but the
day-light displayed a scene scarcely less appalling than the storm of
the night. Ten or twelve of the unhappy men had their limbs jammed
between the spars of the raft, and exhausted by fatigue and hunger, and
unable to extricate themselves, had perished in this situation. Several
had been swept away altogether, so that when they came to count their
number, it was found that twenty had disappeared.

The day turned out beautiful, and they flattered themselves with the
hope that in the course of it some of the boats would come to their
rescue. Evening approached, however, and none was to be seen. As the
night advanced, the storm again rose; the waves broke over them, many
were swept away, and the crowding to the centre of the raft became so
oppressive, that several were crushed to death. Firmly persuaded that
they were on the point of being swallowed up by the sea, the soldiers
and sailors, abandoning themselves to despair, resolved to sooth their
last moments by drinking to intoxication. They bored a hole in the head
of a large cask, and continued to suck till the salt water, mixing
with the wine, rendered it no longer palatable. Excited by the wine
acting on empty stomachs and on bodies weakened by hunger and fatigue,
they now became deaf to the voice of reason, and openly declared their
intention to murder their officers and to cut the ropes which bound the
raft together. One wretch, indeed, seizing an axe, actually began the
dreadful work. The officers rushed forward, and their interference was
a signal for a general revolt. The mutineers, for the most part, were
fortunately badly armed, and the sabres and bayonets of the opposite
party kept them at bay. One fellow was discovered secretly cutting the
ropes which bound their frail raft together. He was instantly flung
into the sea. Others cut the ropes which supported the mast, and it
fell on one of the officers and broke his thigh. He was instantly
seized by the mutineers and thrown overboard, but was saved by his
friends. Finding that it was necessary to make a desperate effort to
put an end to the mutiny, the officers once more rushed forward, and
many of the mutineers fell. By-and-by, the effects of the wine which
they had drank wore off, and they sank into calmness and servility,
crying out for mercy, and begging forgiveness on their knees.

It was now midnight, and tranquillity appeared once more to be
restored; but scarcely an hour had elapsed when the mutineers, as if
once more seized with sudden frenzy, rushed on the officers, tearing
them with their teeth. A new scene of slaughter again took place, and
the raft was once more strewed with dead bodies.

When day dawned, it was found that in the night of horror which had
just elapsed, no fewer than sixty-five of the mutineers had perished,
as well as two of the other party. The scanty stock of provisions which
they at first possessed, was now exhausted. A single cask of wine
only remained. They began to experience the most violent cravings of
hunger, and in the extremity of their distress were forced to devour
the dead bodies of their unfortunate companions. Some, who, even in
the extremity to which they were reduced, revolted from this horrible
repast, tried to stay the pangs of hunger by gnawing their sword-belts,
cartridge-boxes, &c but from them they found little relief.

A third night of horror approached. Fortunately, the weather was now
calm, and they were disturbed only by the piercing cries of those
who were hourly falling victims to hunger and thirst. The morning's
sun showed the survivers the lifeless bodies of ten or a dozen more
of their unfortunate companions, who had died during the night. They
were all committed to the deep except one, who was kept to satisfy
the cravings of his unhappy comrades. A shoal of flying-fish, in
passing the raft, left a great number entangled between the spars. This
afforded them a momentary relief from the shocking repast to which they
had of late been accustomed.

The fourth night was marked by another revolt. It was, however, soon
quelled; two lives only being lost in the scuffle. Their number was now
reduced to thirty; and it was calculated that the wine and fish which
remained would be just enough to last four days; but in these four days
they also calculated that ships might arrive from St. Louis to save
them. Soon after this intimation was made, two soldiers were discovered
behind the cask of wine, through which they had bored a hole for the
purpose of drinking it. It having been determined that the punishment
of death should be inflicted on any one who should be guilty of such a
crime, they were immediately tossed into the sea.

[Illustration: _At length the raft was discovered by a small brig,
which was sent out in search of her._--P. 137.]

Their number was thus reduced to twenty-eight; and, as nearly one half
of them were so worn out and emaciated, that it was in vain to expect
their surviving till assistance could arrive, (but, as long as they did
live, they consumed part of the scanty stock of provisions,) a council
was held, and after deliberation, it was decided to throw overboard the
weak and the sickly. This shocking resolution was immediately carried
into effect.

At length the raft was discovered by a small brig, which had been
sent out in search of it. Of the 150 who embarked, fifteen only were
received on board the brig; and of these, six died shortly after their
arrival at St. Louis.

Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! It is indeed the most awful tale you have
yet told us. Did the parties in the boats reach land safely?

Yes, Harry, they all reached the shore in safety, though several of
them afterwards fell victims to the combined effects of hunger, thirst,
and the oppression of a burning sun. Shortly after their arrival, the
governor, recollecting that the Medusa, at the time of her wreck, had
on board a large sum of money, despatched a vessel to try to recover
it. From various causes, the ship was twice put back; and when she
reached the wreck, fifty-two days after it was abandoned, she found
three miserable wretches still on board, and so reduced as to be just
on the point of expiring!

Where did they come from, Uncle Thomas?

Why, John, they had never quitted the ship. You will recollect that,
when the boats left it, such was the scene of confusion, that the
fewest provisions were put on board the raft, where there were the most
passengers. Well, these men, along with fourteen others, had either
concealed themselves, or refused to leave the ship. They managed to
secure a quantity of provisions; and so long as these lasted, there
appearing no danger of the wreck going to pieces, they remained quietly
awaiting the arrival of assistance; but finding their provisions
begin to run short, twelve of the most determined constructed a raft;
but, setting off without either sail or oars, they were all drowned.
Another, who had refused to embark with them on the raft, resolved, a
day or two after, to try to reach the shore, and, lowering a hen-coop
from the deck, placed himself on it; but, before he had sailed half a
cable's length, he sank, to rise no more. The other four determined to
stick by the wreck; and one of them died before assistance reached them.

Did the other three arrive in safety, Uncle Thomas?

I believe they did, Frank; one of them was, however, shortly afterwards
found murdered in his bed. But I dare say you have had enough of
horrors for the evening; so, I believe I must stop.

Oh yes, Uncle Thomas, quite enough for one evening. We will therefore
bid you good night.

Good night, boys: I will be glad to see you again to-morrow.




CHAPTER VII.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE WINTERTON EAST INDIAMAN.


Good evening, boys. I am glad to see you so early. I have "a long yarn
to spin" to-night, as the sailors say; though fortunately it contains
fewer horrors than that of last evening. The strife of the elements is
in deed as strong, but the angry passions of man--more dreadful than
the fiercest storm--form no part of the tale.

I am glad of it, Uncle Thomas. The shocking conduct of the mutineers
on board the raft, after leaving the Medusa, of which you told us last
night, makes me shudder when I think of it.

Intoxicating drinks, my boys, often make men mad. The tale which I am
going to tell you this evening, is that of the loss of the Winterton,
an East Indiaman, which was wrecked on the Island of Madagascar, on her
passage to India. The Winterton sailed from England in the spring of
1792, and arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in safety. On leaving the
Cape, it was Captain Dundas's intention to have taken what is called
the outer passage to India, but, encountering light, variable winds,
he was obliged to abandon his original design, and bore away for the
Mozambique Channel.

In order to avoid a shoal, which he knew to be somewhat incorrectly
laid down in the charts, Captain Dundas steered east. Thinking he
had sufficiently accomplished this, he altered his course; but had
scarcely sailed in this new direction for three hours, when the ship,
which they supposed to be sixty miles distant from land, struck.

The boats were instantly got out, and on sounding they found deep water
within fifty yards of the stern of the vessel.

Every exertion was made to get her off, but without avail. Day-light
soon disclosed to them the dangers of their situation. The ship had
struck on a reef of rocks, about six miles from land.

As the tide ebbed, the ship beat violently, and began to leak, and
by-and-by the rudder was broken off, and the copper sheathing of the
vessel came up alongside her; but as she lay comparatively quiet, hopes
were entertained that they might succeed in getting her off next tide.
With this view they proceeded to lighten her by every means, throwing
the guns overboard--carrying them to such a distance as to prevent
their injuring the ship as she again rose with the tide. When, however,
they had succeeded in removing about half the number, the sea-breeze
set in fresh, and prevented the boats from approaching the ship's side.
They continued, notwithstanding, to relieve her as much as possible, by
throwing overboard such heavy articles as the tide would carry away. At
high water they renewed their exertions to heave the ship off; but were
again unsuccessful. The leak had by this time gained on the pumps, in
spite of their utmost exertions.

It being evident that the ship was irrecoverably lost, the great
object now was to secure the safety of the passengers and crew. The
masts were cut away, in order to relieve the vessel, and such spars
as the surf prevented being borne away by the tide, were secured for
the purpose of making rafts to assist in conveying the passengers on
shore. In order to prevent such scenes of drunkenness as have sometimes
disgraced shipwrecks, every cask of spirits which could be reached was
staved.

Towards evening, a party was sent on shore in the yawl, to prepare
a convenient place for landing; and the captain addressed the crew,
directing them as to the proper course of procedure on reaching the
shore, and stating his determination to abide by the ship till the
safety of every person on board was secured. This manly address
reanimated the drooping courage of the crew.

During the night the wind increased, and several of the boats were
dashed in pieces by the violence of the surf. Thus deprived of the
means of transporting themselves on shore, and the ship, in the
meantime, beating with such frightful violence against the rocks, as
threatened every instant to break her in pieces, they passed a night of
the greatest consternation and anxiety.

As soon as daylight set in, they began to construct rafts, of such
materials as they could procure. Three or four of these constructions
left the ship, carrying about eighty persons, all of whom succeeded in
reaching the shore. In the meantime the breeze continued to freshen,
till at length it became so violent, that the hawser which held the
ship's stern to the wind parted, and she drove with her broadside on
the rocks, the sea making a complete breach over her. She soon began to
break up, when every one crowded to the-quarter-deck and poop, as the
only place which afforded any chance of safety: in a short time this
retreat also failed, the vessel going completely in pieces. Some of
these were driven on shore in various places, bearing with them such of
the crew as had managed to secure a footing upon them; but the gallant
captain fell a victim to the waves.

For several days, portions of the wreck continued to drift on shore,
generally bringing with them some part of the crew. On gathering the
survivers together, it was found that the captain, the first mate,
three young ladies, and forty-eight seamen, had perished. But the
trials of the survivers were not at an end. The natives, attracted by
the wreck, flocked to the shore, and, seizing on everything of value
that had either been saved or was cast on shore, threatened every one
who opposed them with instant death.

At length they reached Tulliar, the residence of the king of Baba, by
whom they were kindly received. The yawl, which you will recollect had
been sent on shore on the evening previous to the breaking up of the
vessel, was then equipped and despatched to Mozambique, to endeavor to
procure a ship to come to their rescue. After sailing for some days,
they reached the coast of Africa; but being unable to make head against
the northerly winds, they were forced to steer for Sofala, a Portuguese
settlement, where they arrived in safety.

Unfortunately, but a single vessel touched at the settlement in the
course of the year; and it had sailed about a month before. Finding
that there was here no hope of obtaining relief for their companions,
they again set sail, intending to proceed to Delagoa bay, in the
expectation of falling in with some of the South Sea ships, which touch
there annually in considerable numbers. Contrary winds, however, and
the leaky state of their boat, soon forced them to return to Sofala.
The governor received them, this time, in a very different manner from
that which he had shown to them on their former visit, and with little
ceremony insisted on the whole party proceeding with his messengers to
Senna, an inland settlement.

For five weeks they travelled through a miserable country, very
thinly inhabited, and exposed to the intense heat of the sun, and
many dangers from the wild beasts with which the country abounds. The
fatigue which they underwent on this journey was too much for several
of the party, who died shortly after their arrival.

At length, five months after leaving Madagascar, two of the forty
reached Mozambique. Here they freighted a vessel, and proceeded to
the rescue of their unfortunate comrades in misfortune. They found
them in a most melancholy plight. Disease and despair had been at work
among them; nearly one half of those who were saved from the wreck had
perished. The others, emaciated and worn out, were embarked, and, with
the exception of seven, who expired on the passage, reached Mozambique,
where, in spite of every attention which was lavished on them by the
governor and the inhabitants, about thirty of them died within two
months of their arrival.

When the others were so far recovered as to be able to proceed, they
again hired a vessel to carry them to Madras; but, before they reached
it, the ship was captured by a French privateer. Part of the crew the
privateer took on board their own ship, and put a number of their men
into the captured vessel, with orders to proceed to the Mauritius
with all possible speed. The privateer then continued her cruise,
and in a few days falling in with a Dutch East Indiaman, engaged
with her; but the Dutchmen proving victors, the remains of the crew
of the unfortunate Winterton were once more set at liberty. They at
length reached Madras; whence they sailed for England in the Scorpion
sloop-of-war.

Poor fellows! they seem to have been very unlucky, Uncle Thomas. The
rest of the crew, who were carried to the Mauritius, did they get home
in safety also, Uncle Thomas?

Oh, I had almost forgotten to tell you about them, Frank. They never
reached England; nor could the least intelligence be heard of them,
though the East India Company caused the most diligent inquiries to be
made after them.

Do you think they were again shipwrecked, Uncle Thomas?

That I won't say: but I rather fear there was foul play somewhere.
Without some certain grounds to go upon, however, it is useless to
conjecture. So I must bid you good night.

Good night, Uncle Thomas!




CHAPTER VIII.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.


Perilous as is the life of a sailor, boys, during the raging of the
storm, or when far at sea in the middle of the trackless ocean, he
is still exposed to danger even when his ship rides at anchor in the
fancied security of some friendly port. I dare say you have all heard
of the loss of the Royal George, one of the first-rate ships in the
British navy, which sank off Spithead, fifty-six years ago. The sudden
and unexpected event, and the vast number of persons who fell victims,
caused the greatest excitement at the time.

I have often heard of the loss of the Royal George, Uncle Thomas, but
I never could get any information about it. Will you have the goodness
to tell us about it?

With pleasure, boys. The vessel had just returned from a cruise, in
which it was found that she leaked more than usual, and as the leakage
continued even after she came into harbor, an order was issued by
the Admiralty that she should go into dock to repair. After a strict
survey, however, by the carpenter and others, it was found that the
leak was not more than two feet below the watermark, and supposing it
to be occasioned by the rubbing off of the copper sheathing, it was
resolved, in order to save time, to lay her down at Spithead, by what
is called a parliament heel; that is, by means of ropes attached to the
masts, to pull her over so much to one side as to expose the other
above water. In the meantime it was discovered that the pipe, which
occasionally admitted the water to cleanse and sweeten the ship, was
out of order, and that it was necessary to replace it with a new one.
As the vessel required to be heeled very much for this purpose, the
greater part of the guns were removed from one side to the other; but
as she was not expected to heel so much as she did, they neglected to
stop the scuppers of the lower decks, so that the water coming in on
deck, gradually gained upon them, and the vessel thus for some time
stole down imperceptibly.

During this time the greater part of the crew were at dinner; but
the carpenters and caulkers continued at their work, and had almost
finished it, when a sudden squall took the ship on the raised side,
and the lower deck ports to leeward being open, the water rushed in.
As soon as the dangerous situation of the vessel was discovered, they
beat to arms to right the ship, but in vain: in less than eight minutes
she fell flat on one side, filled with water, and the guns, shot, &c.,
falling from the other side, accelerated her descent. She sunk to the
bottom so rapidly that no signal of distress could be made; nor indeed
could any assistance have availed if there had, for after her lower
ports were fairly in the water, no power on earth could have prevented
her from going to the bottom.

At this fatal moment there were nearly twelve hundred persons on board,
including about two hundred and fifty women and several children,
chiefly belonging to the seamen, who had been permitted to remain on
board until the order for sailing arrived. The people who formed the
watch upon deck, including their friends, amounting in all to about
two hundred and thirty, were mostly saved by the boats, which the
ships lying near the Royal George manned and sent to their assistance,
with the utmost expedition, when they observed the vessel was sinking.
Their assistance was, however, for some time necessarily delayed, as
the swell occasioned by the sinking of such a large body produced a
temporary whirlpool, which rendered approach impossible; a victualling
sloop indeed, which lay alongside the Royal George, was drawn into
the vortex, and seven of her crew were drowned. The boats also picked
up about seventy more, who rose to the surface after the ship had
disappeared, among whom were four lieutenants, eleven women, and the
remainder seamen.

Among the officers thus snatched from the brink of eternity, was
Lieutenant Durham, who, being officer of the watch, was upon deck at
the time when he observed the vessel going down. He had just time to
throw off his coat and scramble on the beam, from which he was washed
as the ship sunk, and left floating about among men and hammocks. A
drowning marine caught him by the waistcoat, and held him so fast, that
several times he was drawn under water. It was in vain to reason with
a man struggling for life; and conscious of the certainty of neither
being saved, if he did not disentangle himself from his burden, he
clung with his legs round a hammock, and with one hand unbuttoning
his waistcoat and sloping his shoulder, committed it, with the
unfortunate marine, to the remorseless deep. He then got to some of the
top rigging, where a boat soon afterwards came to him, but he nobly
declined the assistance offered, and pointing out to them where Captain
Waghorne was in great danger, he desired them to go to his relief: the
gallant youth was at length taken up and conveyed in safety to the
shore.

The preservation of another young man, named Henry Bishop, was effected
in a very extraordinary manner. He was on the lower deck at the time of
the fatal accident, and as the vessel filled, the force of the water
hurried him, almost insensibly, up the hatchway, when, at the instant,
he was met by one of the guns which fell from the middle deck, which
striking him on his left hand, broke three of his fingers; in a few
seconds, however, he found himself floating on the surface of the
water, and was providentially picked up by one of the boats.

Every effort was made by the boats of the fleet to save the crew; but
they were able to pick up only Captain Waghorne, a few officers, and
about three hundred people. By this dreadful and unlooked-for accident,
nearly nine hundred persons lost their lives; among whom was Admiral
Kempenfelt, whose flag was then flying on board the Royal George, and
whose loss was universally lamented. Besides the Admiral, who was in
his cabin writing when the sudden disaster happened, every one who was
between the decks perished with her. Captain Waghorne, the Admiral's
first captain, was, fortunately, on deck; but his son, who was a
lieutenant on board, was drowned.

The water must have been very deep, Uncle Thomas, to cover such a large
vessel. But I suppose she lay on her side.

No, Harry, she did not: a great number of persons were saved by
climbing on the topsail yards, which remained above water after the
vessel reached the bottom. She very soon righted herself, and the tops
of her masts were visible so late as 1799; part of her hull even might
then be seen at low water.

Could not the Royal George be got up again, Uncle Thomas? I should have
thought that, being quite sound and in still water, she might have been
weighed.

Several attempts were made to weigh her, Frank; but they were all
unsuccessful. Her anchor and some of her guns were, however, recovered
by means of diving bells. Her anchor was the heaviest ever made--it
weighed ninety-eight hundred weight.

In the churchyard at Portsea, an elegant monument was erected to the
memory of the brave Admiral Kempenfelt and his fellow-sufferers. On it
is engraved this impressive admonition:--

"Reader! with solemn thought survey this grave, and reflect on the
untimely death of thy fellow-mortals; and whilst, as a man, a Briton,
and a patriot, thou readest the melancholy narrative, drop a tear
for thy country's loss. On the twenty-ninth day of August, 1782, his
Majesty's ship, the Royal George, being on the heel at Spithead,
overset and sunk: by which fatal accident about nine hundred persons
were instantly launched into eternity; among whom was that brave and
experienced officer, Rear Admiral Kempenfelt. Nine days after, many
of the bodies of the unfortunate floated; thirty-five of whom were
interred in one grave, near this monument, which is erected by the
parish of Portsea, as a grateful tribute to the memory of that great
commander and his fellow-sufferers."

Good night, Uncle Thomas.




CHAPTER IX.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE STEAMERS KILLARNEY AND
FORFARSHIRE.


Good evening, boys! The sudden and unexpected disappearance of the
Royal George, though, from the size of the vessel, and the number of
lives which were lost on the occasion, an event sufficiently appalling,
is yet frequently outdone, in intensity of suffering, by cases of
shipwreck which happen on our coasts. To-night, I am going to tell you
about the loss of two steam vessels, both of which afford remarkable
instances of extreme suffering.

The first is that of the Killarney, a small steamer of about two
hundred tons burthen, which sailed between Cork and Bristol. She left
the quay at Cork, on the morning of Friday, January 19, 1838, having on
board twenty-one passengers, and twenty-two persons belonging to the
vessel. Her cargo consisted of about one hundred tons of goods, and six
hundred and fifty pigs, part of which were in the fore hold, and the
rest on deck.

Soon after she had left the harbor she encountered a gale, and the
number of pigs causing her to dip considerably, she shipped several
seas, which alarmed the passengers so much, that they prevailed on the
captain to put back.

In the evening, the wind having somewhat moderated, the captain,
contrary to the wishes of the passengers, resumed his voyage. The
vessel had, however, scarcely left the harbor, when the wind again
rose, and kept increasing till it blew a gale. This continued until
midnight, the vessel rolling dreadfully, and every wave that struck
her causing her to dip so deeply, that she shipped several seas. A
great quantity of water poured down into the fore hold, the hatches
having been left open in order to admit the air to the pigs which were
confined in it.

As matters began to wear a threatening aspect, the captain requested
that every person on board would assist in throwing overboard the pigs
which were on deck, which crowded to the lee-side of the vessel so as
almost to render her unmanageable. They found this, however, a matter
of great difficulty, and were able thus to dispose of a very small
number only.

The sea, in the meantime, continued to wash over the deck, and to pour
into the hold. Up to four o'clock, on Saturday morning, they managed,
by means of pumps which were worked by the engine, to get rid of this
water; but about that hour some small coal got into the pumps and
choked them. The water then rose rapidly, until it reached the level of
the engine-fire, when it rushed in, and at once extinguished it. The
engine no longer moved, and all was given up for lost.

After a few minutes of abandonment to despair, the sailors, and part
of the passengers, seizing buckets, began to endeavor to lighten the
vessel of some of the water in the hold, and after several hours of
hard labor, they so far gained upon it as to enable them once more to
light the fire, and to get the steam partly up again. They were at this
time utterly ignorant of where they were, or whither they were going,
for the fog was so dense that no object was visible. They endeavored
to keep the vessel's head to the wind, but, after some time, they
found they were going to leeward. The jibsail was then set, in order
to keep her steady, but no sooner was it run out than it was blown
into ribbons. About three o'clock the fog cleared away, and they saw
land behind them, but no one could tell with certainty what part of
the coast it was. It was then blowing a complete hurricane; the shore
was covered with rocks, and they saw that, if they drifted towards it,
destruction was inevitable. By the captain's orders, the mainsail was
set, and the engine-men were directed to do their utmost to get up the
steam, in order to keep her off. The steam, unfortunately, was so weak
as to be of no assistance--it scarcely moved the crank; and the sail
had to be hauled down, lest it should throw the vessel on her beam
ends. The staysail was then tried, in the hope that it would enable
them to round the point; but the storm was so violent that they could
not haul it out.

The vessel was in the meantime drifting nearer to the rock on which she
ultimately struck. After great exertions they succeeded in turning her
round, to endeavor to make for a bay which promised a place of safety.
Just as they had succeeded in getting her before the wind, she was,
however, pooped by a tremendous sea, which carried away the taffrail,
the wheel, and the two men who worked it, the companion, the binnacle,
and the breakwater. The men fortunately caught part of the rigging,
and were saved; but the sea carried away the bulwarks, with some of
the steerage passengers who were standing near the funnel, and at once
cleared the deck of all the pigs.

When the vessel was nearing the rock, and before she put about, the
steward went down to call the cabin passengers on deck. They were
on their way up when the sea passed over the vessel. A second wave
succeeded almost immediately, and scarcely had two of them stepped on
the quarter-deck when they were hurried overboard. These two seas had
the effect of bringing the head of the vessel somewhat to windward
again, when a third wave rapidly succeeded, and drove her on the
rock. It was then between four and five o'clock. The first stroke
she gave, the carpenter jumped on the rock; he was followed by one
of the passengers, but the landing-place was so narrow that there
was not room for both, and the latter fell into the water and was
drowned. After striking, the vessel receded; she soon struck again, and
continued receding and striking for some time, during which some of the
sailors, the first mate, and the captain landed. When the latter got
on the rock, a rope was thrown to him and the mate, that they might
endeavor to keep the vessel to the rock. Most of the sailors and some
of the passengers were saved in this way, one only landing at a time.

Before leaving the vessel, the steward scrambled along the deck to look
for Mrs. Lawe, one of the passengers, who had distinguished herself
by her calmness, and the firm reliance she placed on a protecting
Providence. He found her near the funnel, calm and collected; with
some difficulty he brought her to the quarter-gallery, and loosing
the rope, he handed it to her, directing her to take hold of it, and,
when the vessel next struck, to leap into the sea, and they would
drag her to the rock. She did so, and was drawn up part of the way,
but having quitted her hold of the rope, she was carried away by the
receding wave, and never seen again. The steward leaped almost at the
same moment, and was saved. The last persons who left the vessel were
a sailor and a woman--the latter supposed to be the stewardess. She
appeared to be insensible; and the sailor, who seemed to have brought
her from the cabin, had her in his arms. He leaped from the vessel, and
reached the rock, the woman under one arm; but the footing was narrow,
and the rock was shelving. He had room for little more than his toes,
and was obliged to endeavor to hold on with the fingers of one hand,
but the weight of the woman inclining him backwards, they fell into the
sea, and both were drowned.

The manner in which some of the lives were lost was peculiarly
affecting. A medical gentleman, one of the passengers, had his little
son in his arms, soothing and supporting him, and when the vessel
struck, he flung him with all his strength towards the rock. The child
reached it in safety, though the violence of the effort nearly carried
the father overboard. When the latter gained the rock, he again took
him in his arms, and, by clasping him closely, endeavored to keep him
warm. "Kiss me, papa," said the little fellow, "we shall soon meet
no more." The child was right. In a few minutes he got on his feet,
ventured a short distance from his father's side, and slipping from the
rock, was at once swallowed up by the raging deep.

As soon as the steward loosed the rope to give it to Mrs. Lawe, the
vessel having nothing to confine her, swung round, and the next sea
that struck her drove her against the rock; her deck opened, she
divided into two, fore and aft, and every one who remained on board
perished. In an hour after, with the exception of the engine and the
paddle-wheel, not a vestige of the vessel or of her machinery was
visible.

There were now about twenty-five persons on the rock. The sailors had
contrived to clamber to a sheltered side, but the situation of the
passengers was pitiable in the extreme. One who had on but a shirt and
waistcoat, was seated astride on a projection of the rock, his face
towards the sea. Under him was another, his back to the sea, his toes
resting on a narrow ledge, and his fingers clinging in a crevice; while
close beside them were others equally exposed and equally helpless.

The persons on the side next the land observing some country
people--about eighteen or twenty--on the shore, shouted to them, hoping
to attract their attention, but there was no answer. The probability
is, that the sound never reached the land, as they saw the people
subsequently descend and carry off some of the pigs that had been
washed ashore. Night came on. About eleven o'clock the wind rose and
blew terrifically, but, even amid the raging of the storm, a startling
shriek was now and then heard, as one after another, unable longer to
maintain their hold, fell into the sea.

When morning broke, the survivers clambered to the sheltered side of
the rock. As they had now been discovered by the people on shore,
great exertions were made to relieve them; but, as the storm continued
unabated, it was found impossible to reach the rock. Ducks with ropes
fastened to them were sent out; only one arrived, and that they were
unable to catch. Wire was attached to bullets, and rope to the wire,
and sundry shots were fired; but this means also was unsuccessful.

The whole of Sunday was spent in a variety of experiments to convey a
rope to the rock, without success. The feelings of the sufferers it
would be impossible to describe, and their agony, when they saw the
attempt to rescue them abandoned--when darkness settled down upon the
deep, and they could no longer distinguish the figures of the persons
on the cliff above them, it would not be easy to imagine. Their sole
sustenance, during the two tedious days and nights which they had
passed since the wreck, was a little salt water and the few scraps of
seaweed that they could gather from one of the bleakest and most barren
rocks on the coast. The night, however, was not so tempestuous as the
preceding, and at daylight the shore was once more crowded by persons,
all anxious to lend their assistance.

On Monday morning, Captain Manby's life-preserving apparatus was
brought to their assistance, but the same difficulty was experienced
in reaching the rock with the rope. Shots were again fired from
guns and small cannon brought for the purpose, but without success.
At length, a plan, which had been unsuccessful on the preceding day,
succeeded, and about eleven o'clock two loaves of bread, and a little
wine and spirits, were lowered to them--the first they had partaken of
since Friday. After refreshing themselves, they were hauled up, one
by one. Of the forty-three persons who embarked on Friday morning,
thirteen only escaped, and of these one died soon after their rescue.

Dreadful, Uncle Thomas! I wonder they were not all starved to death,
exposed as they were to the cold of two January nights.

It was indeed surprising, Harry, that any of them escaped. Some of them
were nearly destitute of clothing. I told you of one of the passengers
who was all but naked, and the woman who escaped passed the time on the
rock with only her night-dress and a small handkerchief to cover her.

The other wreck, of which I promised to tell you this evening, is that
of the Forfarshire, also a steamer, which sailed between Hull and
Dundee. She left Hull on the evening of Wednesday, September 5th, 1838,
having on board a valuable cargo, and upwards of forty passengers. Her
crew consisted of twenty-one persons; the captain's wife accompanied
him on the voyage.

The Forfarshire had not proceeded far when a leak was discovered in
the boiler. This rendered it necessary to extinguish two of the fires,
which were, however, relighted when the boiler had been partially
repaired. The vessel continued her course until the following evening,
by which time she had proceeded as far as Berwick Bay, when the
leak again appeared. It had now become so great, that the greatest
difficulty was experienced in keeping the boilers filled, the water
escaping through the leak as fast as it was pumped in. The wind was
blowing strong and the sea running high, and the leak increased so much
from the motion of the vessel, that the fires were extinguished, and
the engines, of course, became entirely useless. It was now about ten
o'clock at night, and they were off St. Abbs' Head, a bold promontory
on the Scottish coast. There being great danger of drifting ashore, the
sails were hoisted fore and aft, and the vessel put about in order to
get her before the wind, and keep her off the land. She soon became
unmanageable, and the tide setting strong to the south, she proceeded
in that direction. It rained heavily during the whole time, and the fog
was so dense that it became impossible to tell the situation of the
vessel. At length breakers were discovered close to leeward, and the
Ferne Lights, which about the same period became visible, put an end
to all doubt as to the imminent peril of the unfortunate vessel. An
attempt was made to run her between the Ferne Islands, but she refused
to obey the helm, and at three o'clock on Friday morning, she struck
with tremendous force against the outer or Longstone Island.

At the moment the vessel struck, most of the passengers were below,
and many of them asleep in their berths. One, alarmed by the shock,
started up, and seizing his trousers only, rushed upon deck. When he
reached it, he found everything in confusion, and seeing part of the
crew hoisting out a boat, he sprang into it. The raging of the sea
instantly separated it from the vessel, and though several of the other
passengers attempted to reach it, they were unsuccessful, and perished
in the attempt. The boat itself escaped by something little short of a
miracle. There was but one outlet by which it could avoid being dashed
in pieces on the breakers by which it was surrounded. This outlet it
providentially took without its crew being aware of it; and after being
exposed to the storm all night, it was picked up by a sloop and carried
into Shields.

In less than five minutes after the vessel struck, a second shock
separated her into two parts--the stern, quarter-deck, and cabin
being instantly borne away, through a passage called the Piper Gut,
by a tremendous current, which runs with considerable violence even
in temperate weather--with a rapidity of about six miles an hour--but
which, when the weather is tempestuous, flows with a force truly
terrific.

The fore part of the vessel, in the meantime, remained fast on the
rock, and to it still clung the few passengers who remained, every
instant expecting to share the fate of their unfortunate companions,
whom they had seen swept away by the raging element. In this dreadful
situation their cries attracted the notice of Grace Darling, the
daughter of the keeper of the Outer Ferne Lighthouse. With a noble
heroism, she immediately determined to attempt their rescue, in spite
of the raging of the storm, and the all but certain destruction which
threatened to attend it.

Having hastily awakened her father, he launched his boat at day-break,
and, with a generous sympathy worthy of the father of Grace Darling,
prepared to proceed to their rescue. The gale, in the meantime,
continued unabated, and the boiling of the waves threatened a speedy
destruction to their frail boat. It was therefore with a heart full
of the most fearful forebodings, that he undertook the perilous
enterprise. After watching the wreck for some time, they discovered
that living beings were still clinging to it, and the gallant young
woman, with matchless intrepidity, seized an oar and entered the
boat. This was enough--her father followed; and, with the assistance
of his daughter, conducted the frail skiff over the foaming billows
to the spot where the wreck appeared. By a dangerous and desperate
effort he was landed on the rock, and to preserve the frail boat from
being dashed to pieces, it was rapidly rowed back among the awful
abyss of waters, and kept afloat by the skilfulness and dexterity of
this noble-minded young woman. At length the whole of the survivers,
consisting of five of the crew and four of the passengers, were
taken from the wreck, and conveyed to the light-house, where she
ministered to their wants, and anxiously, for three days and three
nights, waited on the sufferers, and soothed their afflictions. This
perilous achievement, unexampled in the feats of female fortitude, was
witnessed by the survivers in silent wonder. The weather continued so
tempestuous that the mainland could not be reached till Sunday, when
the nine persons, saved by the gallant heroism of the Darlings, were
landed in safety; thus making the entire number of persons saved from
the wreck eighteen. All the others perished.

Those who found refuge on the rock on which the vessel struck, suffered
severely during the night from the cold and the heavy seas which, at
intervals, washed over them. The female passenger, who escaped, sat
with her two children, a boy and a girl, the one eight and the other
eleven years of age, firmly grasped in each hand, long after the
buffetings of the waves had deprived them of existence. The captain and
his wife were washed from the wreck, clasped in each other's arms, and
both drowned.

It was indeed a noble act, Uncle Thomas! I wonder she was not afraid
that her boat would share the fate of the steam-vessel, and be dashed
in pieces on the rock.

It was an act of heroism, boys, to which you will find few parallels;
nor has it been without its reward. Besides the satisfaction of saving
nine fellow-creatures from certain destruction, the fame of the heroic
act has spread far and wide, and its praise been on every tongue.
Painters, of no mean power, have portrayed the scene, and its memory
will be thus preserved. Presents have besides poured in upon her and
her father, and everything been done to mark the public sympathy and
approbation of the daring and disinterested deed.

A coroner's inquest was held on the bodies of four of the sufferers,
which were washed ashore. The jury returned a verdict "Wrecked on
board the Forfarshire steam-packet, by the imperfection of her boilers,
and the culpable negligence of the captain in not putting back to port."

Was the vessel completely destroyed, Uncle Thomas?

The only part of the vessel which remained, Harry, consisted of the
forecastle, part of the engine, the paddle-wheels, and part of the
rigging. One of the boilers was thrown upon the rock, the other
disappeared in the sea. Of the valuable cargo, a few boxes of soap only
were recovered.




CHAPTER X.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE ALBION NEW YORK PACKET.


Many of the tales of shipwrecks which have happened on our shores, are
extremely distressing; none more so, perhaps, than that of the Albion
packet, which was wrecked on the Irish coast, in 1822.

The Albion was one of the first-class packet ships between New York
and Liverpool, and sailed from the former place on the first of April,
having on board twenty-three cabin and six steerage passengers, her
crew consisting of twenty-five persons; making the entire number
who embarked fifty-four. For the first twenty days the voyage was
prosperous and pleasant. About two o'clock on Sunday the 21st, they
made Cape Clear, and the weather, which had, during the earlier part of
the voyage, been moderate and favorable, now became thick and foggy,
the wind blowing fresh, with heavy squalls from the southward. The ship
had been carrying all her canvass, but as the gale increased they were
obliged to shorten sail. At four o'clock, they were under double-reefed
topsails, foresail, and mainsail, when a sudden squall carried away the
fore-yard and split the fore-topsail. They therefore got the broken
yard down, and prepared to replace it by another.

As night came on, the decks were cleared for working the ship; the
wind, however, lulled, and it was supposed that the storm of the day
was over. As they were near the coast, all hands flattered themselves
they should, in a short time, reach their destined harbor, and be once
more secure from the dangers of the deep. About nine o'clock, the ship
was struck by a tremendous sea, which threw her on her beam-ends, and
carried away the mainmast by the board, the heads of the mizenmast
and fore-topmast, sweeping the deck clear of everything, including
boats, caboose-house, and bulwarks, and staving in all the hatches, and
state-rooms, and nearly filling the cabin with water. It also carried
away six of the crew and one of the cabin passengers, and, in short, so
destructive was its influence, that it left the Albion in the state of
a wreck.

As the ship now became unmanageable, and the sea continued to make a
complete breach over her, both crew and passengers were obliged to
lash themselves to the pumps, in order to keep themselves from being
washed away while working them. All who were unnecessary or unable to
afford assistance on deck retired below, but the water was knee-deep in
the cabin, and the furniture floating about rendered their situation
dangerous and dreadful. On deck they were in total darkness, and having
no correct compasses, they could not tell how the ship's head lay.

About one o'clock in the morning of the 22d, they made the light of
the Old Head of Kinsale, a light-house on the Irish coast, but could
not ascertain its bearing, and at two o'clock they found the ship
embayed. All night long the wind had blown directly on shore, towards
which the vessel was drifting at the rate of about three miles an
hour. The complete hopelessness of their situation was known to few
on board; but to Captain Williams the coast was familiar, and he must
have seen, in despair and horror, throughout the night, the certainty
of their fate. At length the noise of the ocean roaring and dashing
upon the rocky and precipitous shore, spoke too plainly of the fate
that awaited them. The captain, seeing that the crisis was now close
at hand, and that the wreck of the vessel was inevitable, summoned all
the passengers on deck, and briefly told them that each must prepare
to save himself, as the ship must soon strike--it was impossible to
preserve her. The scene was one of the most touching description; many
of them had received considerable injury when the sea first struck the
ship, and were scarcely able to come on deck; others were completely
exhausted from having been incessantly assisting at the pumps; and one
gentleman, who had been extremely ill during the voyage, Mr. William
Everhart, of Chester, Pennsylvania, was too feeble to crawl to the
deck without assistance, though, strange to say, he was the only cabin
passenger who was saved.

The situation of the passengers on board the Albion was, at this
moment, one of peculiar agony, as they watched, without the power
of resistance, the deadly and relentless blast impelling them to
destruction--the ship a wreck--and the raging of the billows against
the precipice on which they were driving, sending back from the
rocky caverns the hoarse and melancholy warnings of death. In such a
situation, the stoutest heart must have quailed with utter despair.

As the morning dawned, the Albion struck on a reef, her upper-works
beat in over the rocks, and in about half an hour she parted midships,
her quarter-deck drifting on the top of the inside ledge, immediately
under the cliffs. The perpendicular precipice of rocks, under which the
unfortunate vessel struck, is nearly two hundred feet in height, in
the base of which, the sea beating for ages, has worn large caverns,
into which the waves rush violently, sending back a deep and hollow
sound; after striking against the rock, they are thrown back in various
directions, forming whirlpools of great violence. For some distance
from the precipice, rocks rise out of the water, broad at bottom, and
sharp at top: on one of these the Albion first struck; the next wave
threw her farther on the rock, the third farther still, until, nearly
balanced, she swung round, and her stern was driven against another,
closer in shore.

In this perilous situation, every wave making a complete breach over
her, many of the passengers and crew were drowned on deck. Captain
Williams, worn out with the extraordinary exertions which, up to the
last moment, he continued to make for the preservation of the lives of
the unfortunate passengers and crew, was, with several others, swept
away soon after the vessel struck.

A short time before she parted, the mate and six of the crew managed to
gain a rock, but so exhausted were they by their previous exertions,
and by the dashing of the waves, which every instant washed over
them, that the mate was washed off; fortunately, however, he regained
his position before the return of the sea. So exhausted was he,
that before he could attempt to climb the rock, which was nearly
perpendicular, he was obliged to lie down to recover strength from
the severe bruises and contusions which he had received. One of the
passengers also reached the rock alive, but, together with one of the
stewards, he was washed off and drowned.

Perceiving that the stern was higher out of water than the fore part
of the wreck, and the sea had less power in its sweep over it, Mr.
Everhart went aft. He now saw that the bottom had been broken out
of the ship. The heavy articles must have sunk, and the cotton and
lighter articles were floating around, dashed by every wave against the
rocks. Presently the ship broke in two, and all who remained near the
bow were lost. Several had got on the side of the precipice from the
stern of the ship, and were hanging by the crags. Although weakened by
previous sickness and present suffering, Mr. Everhart made an effort
and got upon the rock, and stood upon one foot, which was the only
hold he could obtain. He saw several of his fellow-sufferers around
him, and, among the rest, Colonel Prevost, who, on seeing him take his
station, remarked, "Here is another poor fellow," But the waves rolling
heavily against them, and often dashing the spray fifty feet above
their heads, gradually swept them away, one after another. One of the
sailors, losing his hold, attempted to grasp Mr. Everhart's leg, and
nearly pulled him from his place. Weak and ill as he was, however, he
contrived to retain his position, and stood for several hours on one
foot on a little crag, the billows dashing over him, and quite benumbed
with cold.

By day-light, the wreck having been discovered, as soon as the ebbing
of the tide rendered it practicable, the country people descended the
rocks as far as they could, and dropped Mr. Everhart a rope, which he
fastened round his body, and was drawn up to a place of safety. Of
twenty-three cabin passengers he alone escaped.

Many of the passengers who were lost in this melancholy shipwreck, held
distinguished stations in society. The most eminent sufferer was Gen.
Lefebvre Desnouettes, who, during a long series of years, had braved
death in the field of battle, and escaped to perish at last in this
catastrophe, when his mind was, perhaps, less than at any other period
of his life, reconciled to the stroke of fate. His situation was every
way peculiar. It is well known that he had been one of the favorite
and most distinguished of Napoleon's military generals, and that he
took part in the combination against Louis XVIII. On the landing of
his old commander from Elba, with headlong enthusiasm he joined him
in his last campaign, and being proscribed by the royal government,
took refuge in the United States. Here his misfortunes, reputation,
intelligence, and manly, unexceptionable deportment, rendered him an
object of universal esteem. To escape, as he used to remark, pity
and curiosity, and to gratify the natural activity of his mind, he
retired to the territory granted to the French exiles in the State of
Alabama, where he labored in the fields, under the burning sun, with
a reckless exertion, which proved very injurious to his health. His
wife, an amiable and accomplished woman, remained behind in France to
look after his interests there. Having begun his agricultural toil, he
never quitted it until his final departure from the country, except to
visit Washington on business. At length, he addressed a petition to the
French government, praying to be allowed to return home. He received
directions to proceed to Holland, and there wait the final pleasure of
the king; and, on his way to Liverpool, met with a watery grave on the
Irish coast.

It is a very affecting tale indeed, Uncle Thomas! How shocking to think
that, after crossing the Atlantic ocean in safety, they should perish
when almost within sight of home!




CHAPTER XI.

UNCLE THOMAS TELLS OF THE LOSS OF THE DODDINGTON EAST INDIAMAN.


This evening, boys, I am going to tell you of the loss of the
Doddington, which was wrecked on a barren, uninhabited rock, when
nearly two hundred persons lost their lives.

The Doddington sailed from the Downs, April 23d, 1755, in company with
four others of the East India Company's ships. On the 20th of May, they
made Bonavista, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, and on the 21st got
into Port Prior Bay, for the purpose of taking in a supply of fresh
water. On the 27th, she proceeded on her voyage, in company with three
of the vessels with which she had at first set out, leaving the other,
which had not yet completed her refitment, in the roads. They continued
together until the following day, when the Captain, thinking that their
course was too easterly, ordered the Doddington to be kept south; and
after a fine run of seven weeks, she made the land of the Cape of Good
Hope.

On the 5th of July, they took their departure from Cape Needles, and
the vessel having steered eastward about twenty-four hours, the Captain
ordered her to be kept E. N. E. In this course she continued till about
a quarter before one on the morning of Thursday the 17th of July, when
she struck.

The officer whose journal furnishes materials for the following
narrative, was, at the time of the accident, asleep in his cabin; but
being suddenly awakened by the shock, he started up in the utmost
consternation, and hurried upon deck. He found the sea rolling over the
ship with the utmost violence, and sweeping the men overboard, while
the beating of the surge upon the vessel threatened, every instant, to
dash her in pieces. On reaching the larboard side of the deck, which
lay highest out of the water, he encountered the Captain, who told
him in a very little time they must all perish; in a few minutes a
sea parted them, and he saw him no more. He managed, by dint of great
exertion, to get back to the quarter-deck, though he was much bruised
and had the small bone of his left arm broken; the other portion of
the ship was, in the meantime, overwhelmed by the waves and completely
shattered in pieces.

In this dreadful situation, when every minute he expected would be the
last of all who still clung to the wreck, he heard the welcome cry
of "Land!" and looked eagerly about him; but though he saw something
which he supposed had been taken for land, he believed that it was
only the bursting of the surge on the other side of the breakers. At
this instant, the sea broke over him with such fury, that it not only
forced him from his hold, but such was the violence of the blow, that
he was stunned, and lay insensible till after daylight. On recovering,
he found himself fixed to a plank by a nail that had been forced into
his shoulder. Besides the pain of his wound, and the many bruises which
he had sustained, he was so benumbed with cold that he could scarcely
move. He now observed that several of the crew had got on the rocks
which were near, and called out to them as loud as he could; but they
were not able to give him any assistance, so that a considerable time
elapsed before he was able to disengage himself from the wreck and get
on shore.

On reaching the rock, he found twenty-three of his companions, which
were all that had been able to save themselves out of two hundred and
twenty individuals that were on board when the ship struck. Their
first care was to search among the things that had been thrown on the
rocks from the wreck, for something to cover them from the weather,
and in this they succeeded almost beyond their expectations; but the
attainment of fire was not so easily accomplished. Some of them made
an unsuccessful attempt to kindle two pieces of wood by rubbing
them together, while others diligently searched the rocks in anxious
endeavors to find a substitute for flint and steel. After some time
they found a box containing a couple of gun-flints and a broken file,
which was a most joyful acquisition, though they still wanted tinder.
After a further search, they discovered a cask of gunpowder, which, to
their great disappointment, proved to be wet; but, on a more narrow
inspection, they found a small quantity at the bottom that had suffered
no damage. Some of this bruised on a linen rag, served their purpose
very well.

Having at length succeeded in lighting a fire, the bruised and wounded
collected round it, while the others went in search of further
necessaries. A box of wax candles and a case of brandy were the first
brought in, and soon afterwards another party returned, stating that
they had discovered a cask almost full of fresh water, which was of
greater consequence than the spirits, as there was no fresh water to be
found on the island. They could also see at some distance several casks
of water, flour, and beer; but it was not possible to get at them over
the rocks.

It now became necessary to provide some shelter for the approaching
night; all hands were therefore employed in making a tent of some
canvass that had been cast ashore; but the quantity was so small that
the tent would not hold them all, and for fear of being overflowed,
they were obliged to erect it on the highest part of the island. Here
they were so much exposed to the storm that their frail encampment was
in danger of being blown away; their fire was scattered, and before
they could collect the embers the rain extinguished them. On renewing
their search in the morning, they found, to their great mortification,
that all the casks which they had seen the preceding night, with the
exception of one of flour and another of beer, had been staved against
the rocks. These, however, they secured; but the tide flowing up
soon after, interrupted their proceedings. As, in their desolate and
forlorn situation, their thoughts naturally hurried from one subject
to another in quest of some source of comfort, it was suggested by
one of them that, as the carpenter was among them, he might build a
vessel to carry them to a port of safety, provided they could obtain
some tools and materials. The attention of every one was immediately
directed towards the carpenter, who declared his belief that if tools
and materials could be found, he should be able to build a bark; and
though at that time there was no prospect of procuring either, yet no
sooner had they thought their deliverance but one remove beyond total
impossibility, than they seemed to think it neither impossible nor
difficult. The boat engrossed their whole conversation, and they not
only debated on her size and rigging, but to what port they should
steer when she was fairly afloat. Some of them immediately dispersed
in search of materials for their projected vessel, but they did not
succeed in finding any. On the following day, however, they secured
four butts of water, one cask of flour, one hogshead of brandy, and
a small boat, which had been thrown up by the tide in a shattered
condition; but no tools were found, with the exception of a scraper.
Next day they had the good fortune to discover a box containing files,
gimlets, sail-needles, and an azimuth compass-card; they also found
two quadrants, a carpenter's adze, a chisel, three sword-blades, and a
chest of treasure.

On Monday, the 20th of July, they recovered some more provisions, and
also some timber-plank, canvass, and cordage, which they joyfully
secured for their projected vessel, though still in want of many
implements indispensable for the carpenter to proceed with his work. It
happened, however, that one of the seamen, Hendrick Scanty, a native of
Sweden, who had originally been a smith by profession, having picked
up an old pair of bellows, told his companions that, by the aid of
a forge, which they could build by his directions, he could furnish
the carpenter with all necessary tools as well as nails, as plenty
of iron could be obtained by burning it out of pieces of the wreck
driven ashore. He began immediately to mend the bellows, and the three
following days were occupied in building a tent and forge, and in
collecting timber for the use of the carpenter, who was also employed
in preparing the few tools already in his possession, that the boat
might be begun as soon as possible.

In a few days the carpenter began to work on the keel of the vessel,
which, it was determined, should be a sloop, thirty feet in length
by twelve in width. The smith also finished his forge, and he and
the carpenter continued thenceforward to work with indefatigable
diligence, except when prevented by the weather. The smith, having
fortunately found the ring and nut of a bower-anchor, which served him
for an anvil, supplied chisels, axes, hammers and nails, as they were
required, and the carpenter used them with great dexterity and despatch.

After having been nearly seven weeks upon the rock, during which
time they had frequently seen a great smoke upon the main land,
they determined to send the boat which had been recovered from the
wreck, which the carpenter had so patched up as to fit it for sea, to
ascertain what assistance could be obtained. For this purpose, three
men set out on a voyage of discovery, the people making a great fire at
night on the highest part of the rock, as a signal to them.

After waiting three days, the return of the boat was impatiently
expected; but nothing being seen of it by noon they became very uneasy.
At length, however, they discovered it approaching, but it was rowed by
only one man, who plied both oars, and they consequently concluded that
the other two had been lost or detained. Presently, however, another
was seen to rise from the bottom of the boat, and their speed was a
little increased.

Their interest and curiosity were wound up to the highest pitch, when
the two men, jumping from the boat, threw themselves on the ground,
and returned thanks to the Almighty for their deliverance. They were,
however, so exhausted by the exertions which they had made, that they
now sank on the ground and could not rise without assistance. When
sufficiently recovered, they related their adventures since they left
the island.

On the day of their departure, after sailing about six leagues to the
eastward, they got round a point of land, and ventured to pull for
the shore; but the moment they got into the surf, the boat was upset,
by which their companion was unfortunately drowned. They managed,
however, to reach the land, though in a very exhausted condition. On
recovering a little, they crawled along the shore in search of the
boat, as they had no other shelter from wild beasts, which might be
expected to come abroad in the night, and after some search found her;
but they were too weak to get her up, and were obliged to lie down on
the sand, with no other covering than the branches of a tree. In the
morning they again searched for the boat, which the surf had driven
from the place where they left her, and in walking along the coast saw
a man, who, on their approach, ran away into the woods. Soon afterwards
they discovered the body of their unfortunate companion, which had
been dragged some distance from the shore, and mangled by some wild
beast, which so terrified them, that rather than undergo the dread of
passing another night on shore, they resolved to return immediately.
Encountering a gale from the west, the boat was once more upset, but
after much struggling and swimming, they got safe to land, exhausted by
their exertions and faint with hunger. Having managed to get the boat
on shore, they turned it keel upwards and crept under it to sleep.

Wearied by their late exertions, they slept till the dawn of day,
when, peeping out from under the edge of the boat, they saw the feet of
several animals, which they supposed to be tigers, which induced them
to remain under the boat till the day had well broke, when once more
looking out they saw the feet of a man. On this discovery, they crept
out, to the great amazement of a poor savage and two other men and a
boy, who were at some distance. When they were a little recovered from
their surprise, the savages made signs for them to go away, which they
endeavored to do, though they began to move very slowly: but they had
not got far when a considerable number of the natives ran down upon
them with their lances, and took them prisoners.

They then rifled the boat, and took away all the rope they could find,
and began to knock the boat in pieces, for the iron which they saw
about it. With the exception of absolute destruction to these hapless
mariners, this was the greatest calamity they could sustain; and,
rough as they were, they burst into tears, and entreated the savages
to desist, with such agony and distress, that they suffered the boat
to remain without further injury. On the following morning, taking an
opportunity of eluding the vigilance of the savages, they launched the
boat for the third time, and returned to their companions on the rock.

This narrative was far from encouraging; nevertheless the carpenter
continued his work with the greatest assiduity, and with such success,
that, imperfect as were the tools with which he worked, on the 17th
February 1756, they launched their little vessel, and bade adieu to
the rock on which they had lived seven months. They weighed anchor at
one in the afternoon, and set sail, with a light breeze from the west,
for the river St. Lucia, on the coast of Natal; but misfortune still
seemed to attend them. For twenty-five days they met with nothing
but adversity; their provisions were almost exhausted, and the rapid
currents carried them so far out of their course, that a favorable wind
was of but little service to them. Despairing at last of being able to
make the river St. Lucia, they resolved to change their course for the
Cape of Good Hope, and accordingly, on the 2d of March, bore away for
the west.

The three following days the wind increased to such prodigious violence
that it blew a furious storm, and their frail bark shipped such heavy
seas, that they expected each wave, as it rolled over, to dash her in
pieces. On the morning of the 5th, however, fine weather ensued, and
on the 7th it was a perfect calm, when they cast anchor about three
quarters of a mile from the shore, where they observed several natives
coming down from the mountains towards them.

Encouraged by this sight, they attempted to land, and Arnold, the black
servant, was sent on shore, accompanied by two seamen, with a string
of amber beads as a present to the Indians. After a mutual interchange
of civilities, he obtained some Indian corn, fruit, and water, in a
calabash, with a promise of sheep, oxen, and other necessaries; but
the wind continuing westerly, the boat returned with a supply only
sufficient for four days.

They continued to coast along, occasionally landing to barter with the
natives, who everywhere thronged to the shore and received them with
kindness. At length, on the 6th April, they arrived at St. Lucia.

Having landed, they signified to the natives their wish to trade with
them; but the Indians intimated that they wanted nothing but small
beads: however, on being shown some copper buttons, they brought
bullocks, fowls, potatoes, gourds, and other provisions. No bullocks
could be purchased; for the natives wanted copper rings large enough
for collars, in exchange. Of the fowls, they gave five or six for a
small piece of linen, and the other things in proportion.

They remained here three weeks, being engaged in traversing the
country, and endeavoring to obtain such articles as they wanted. The
Indians set a great value on copper, and on being shown the handle
of an old box, offered two bullocks for it, which were immediately
accepted and driven on board the vessel.

On the 18th of May, a favorable breeze springing up from the west,
attended with good weather, they weighed anchor at seven in the morning
and set sail. Two days afterwards they arrived in Lagoa Bay, where they
found the Rose, a trading vessel, in which some of them requested a
passage to Bombay.

On the 25th of May, the Rose sailed for Madagascar, where, happening to
fall in with one of the East India Company's ships, bound for Madras,
the packets of treasure were transferred to it, and in about a month
arrived in safety at their destination.

I must now bid you good bye, boys--not that I have exhausted my "Tales
of Shipwrecks," but my space being filled up, I must stop for the
present. I hope we shall soon meet again. Our present meetings have
not, I trust, been without profit as well as amusement. The various
narratives of suffering have awakened our sympathies, and taught us
to feel how much we owe to the intrepidity of the adventurous seamen,
who, bidding defiance to the perils of the deep, bear the blessings of
commerce and civilization to the farthest corners of the earth. Nor
ought our conversations to have been void of instruction--opening up
to us, as they have done, the mighty works of God and his mysterious
dealings with mankind. "They that go down to the sea in ships," says
the Psalmist, "that do business in great waters--these see the works
of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth
the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to
the heavens, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted
because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken
man, and are at their wit's end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their
trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the
storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad
because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven. O,
that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful
works to the children of men!"

Good bye, Uncle Thomas!





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