At the close of the war with Great Britain, in the year 1815, I took
command of the brig Ganges, owned by Ebenezer Sage, Esq., then a wealthy
and respectable merchant at Middleton. I sailed from New York on the
20th of August, bound for Turk's Island for a cargo of salt, and, on the
5th of September, I arrived at my destined port. It being the season for
hurricanes in that region, it was thought most safe for us to go around
into a small harbor on the south side of the island. In order to reach
this harbor, we had to go through a narrow, crooked channel, with rocks
and dangerous reefs on every side, but, with a skillful pilot, we made
our way through safely, and came to anchor. On the next day we
commenced taking in our cargo of salt. On the 9th of September, a day
that I shall ever remember, my pilot came to me somewhat agitated, and
said that there were strong indications of an approaching hurricane, and
advised me to make all possible preparations to encounter it.
We therefore quit taking in salt, and made every thing about the ship
snug as possible. At twelve o'clock, midnight, the gale commenced, as
the pilot had anticipated, and continued to increase until six in the
morning, at which time it became most terrific. Every blast grew more
and more violent until our cables all parted, and we were left to the
mercy of the gale. It blew directly from the land. We got the ship
before the wind, as the only course we could pursue. In doing this we
were well aware of the dangerous channel we had to pass, and my only
hope was, that we might get to sea clear of the land. But this hope soon
vanished. In about twenty minutes after we started, the ship struck a
rock, which knocked off her rudder, and set her leaking badly. The
rudder being gone, we of course had no control of the vessel. She came
around side to the wind, and at this moment her mainmast was blown over
the side. We at once cut away the rigging that attached it to the hull,
and it floated off, and the foremast still standing, the ship swung off
again a little before the wind. All hands were soon set to pumping, but
we found that in spite of all our exertions, the water rapidly increased
in the hold.
The appearance of the elements at this time almost baffles description.
So violent was their commotion that no one could stand without grasping
something for support. Not a word could be heard that was uttered. I had
to communicate every order by means of signs, while I stood on the
quarter-deck holding on to the cabin doors. In this situation I
endeavored calmly to reflect. Here we were, as we supposed, on the open
ocean,--in a tempest of unparalleled violence--with no rudder--one mast
gone--boats all lost--and the ship settling under us from the weight of
water in the hold. The sky was black almost as midnight above us, and
the waves beneath, and around, and over us--for they dashed at quick
intervals, like so many furies, across the devoted ship--seemed ready to
drown us ere we sank into their dread abyss. The voice of the gale as it
howled through the rigging, mingled with the creaking of timbers, and
the roar of waters as they struck the vessel, was an awful wail, as it
appeared to me, over bodies devoted to almost instant death. Destruction
seemed inevitable. It would not, to all human calculation, be protracted
even an hour. We were sinking down, down--inch following inch of the
fated vessel in rapid succession--down remedilessly to our graves in the
maddened sea, amid the monsters of its great deep.
I descended to the cabin, and attempted calmly to surrender myself to
Him who made me. My thoughts--oh, how they flew at once to my wife and
children at home! I attempted to pray, and for the first time since I
had left my pious mother. I _did_ pray--for my family first--and oh how
fervently, in closing my supplications, I besought for myself pardon and
forgiveness through Him who is ever ready to hear the penitent!
The water had now got on to the cabin floor, I therefore placed myself
on the stairs leading on deck. Shortly after this the wind shifted, and
in a few minutes the ship struck with a tremendous crash. I rushed on
deck, and at once saw rocks fifty feet high, and perpendicular, but a
few feet from the after part of the ship, which now soon filled with
water, and rolled over toward the land. At its fore part, and at the
only point where we could by any possibility have been saved, the rocks
descended gradually, and the foremast leaned over them. Not a moment was
to be lost. We crawled up the rigging, and, swinging ourselves on to the
rocks, made our way up the precipice on our hands and feet, and,
reaching the summit, at once sought, in holes in the rock, shelter from
the tempest, which still continued so violent that no one could stand
upon his feet.
Our escape happened about ten o'clock in the morning; at five in the
afternoon the gale had so moderated that we could stand. We then crawled
out from our hiding places, and, assembling together, found that all
were safe except my brother, who was mate of the ship, and he, we
supposed, was lost, in attempting to get on shore. We soon, as was very
natural, approached the precipice to learn the fate of the ship. Nothing
was to be seen of her but plank, timbers, spars, sails, and rigging, all
in one confused, broken mass, and washing up against the rocks. It was
truly to us a most deplorable spectacle. We had no resource in the
vessel; not a thing of value was left.
As night was approaching, we now walked along before the wind toward the
south part of the island, and there found, by the side of a huge pile of
rocks, a hole or sort of cave, about eight feet square and five feet
high. Here we all crawled in, wet and cold, but with hearts grateful to
God for our wonderful preservation. As we were packed very close to each
other, the natural warmth of our bodies soon relieved us considerably
from the sensation of wetness and cold, and we passed the night as
comfortably as our varied miseries would allow.
Morning came, and we left our cave. The gale had much abated, and we
could see some distance. We found that we were on a small desolate
island, about a mile long, half a mile wide, and about ten miles from
the place we left the day before. It was covered mostly with huge rocks,
with here and there a small patch of soil, overrun with prickly pear,
and inhabited by no living animal excepting lizards and small poisonous
snakes. We had been now over twenty-four hours without food or water. Of
the latter article, on searching around, we found a little in the
hollows on the rocks, but it was about half salt, having been made so by
the spray which the gale had thrown from the ocean quite over the
island, and the more we drank of it the more thirsty we became. As to
food, we were soon convinced that this was out of the question. Toward
night, we found a cask near the beach, standing on one end, with one
head out, which held about two gallons of water, that had rained in.
This was not salt, but smelled badly. We, however, scooped out with our
hands about one half of it, and left what remained for the next day. We
got some relief from this, and then we returned to our former
resting-place for the night.
When we crawled out on the following morning we found that the weather
had become fine and clear. We could see vessels passing at a short
distance from us, but had no means of making any signal, nor any for
leaving the shore. This being the third day of our distress and
privation, some of us began to suffer much from hunger. Others suffered
more from thirst. We, however, cheered each other with the faint hope
that some thing would appear for our relief. We wandered about as we had
done the day before, seeking for water but found none. We had nothing to
dig with but our hands; these we used, but in vain; no water appeared.
Toward night we went to the cask, and drank what remained there. We then
returned again to our cave for the night, all much exhausted and
low-spirited. Despair began to shade every countenance. Very little was
said, and we passed the night well as we could, pressed by hunger and
parched by thirst. Morning came, and again we all left our shelter. The
weather continued fine and clear. The men again separated in search of
water, but being myself very feeble, I took my seat on some rocks near
the cave, at a point from whence I could see every thing moving on the
water, and with a lingering hope that something would appear for our
deliverance.
About ten o'clock, an object loomed up in the distance. I thought it
was a boat, but could not at once tell. It approached, and soon I saw it
distinctly. It _was_ a boat, with one sail, and was steering directly
for a low beach not far from where I was seated. My feelings at this
moment were so overcome that I lost all power of utterance. I could not,
at first, rise from the rock, My strength, however, shortly returned a
little, and I got up and made all the noise I could. Some of the men
near at hand heard me, and came up. I at once pointed to the boat, which
was now near the shore. They shouted to their companions, and we were
all soon at the beach near where the boat was landed. A black man got
out of the boat, and came to me with a letter--but, before reading it, I
besought him for water. To my surprise he had none, but instead of it
had a bottle of rum and a small bag of biscuit. I told him to bring
these on shore, and, taking them, I gave each of my crew a swallow of
the rum and a biscuit. This had the effect of moistening a little our
parched mouths and tongues. I then opened the letter. It was from my
warm and faithful friend Mr. Tucker, of Turk's Island, and it read as
follows, omitting my name:
"To Captain ----, or any other unfortunate person or persons who may be
found on any of the neighboring islands. Come as many as can safely
and, should any be left, I will find means to convey those that remain."
The two men, who came in the boat, hesitated about taking all of us at
once, as we were nine in number, and with themselves might overload the
boat. We could not, however, bear the thought of leaving any behind. We
therefore all got aboard, shoved off, and made sail. We had a fair wind,
and a smooth sea, and at six o'clock arrived safely at the harbor we had
left. Many persons ran to the beach to meet us as we landed, and among
the rest was our deliverer, Mr. Tucker.
The next morning, my friend and deliverer gave me a brief history of
what had taken place with himself and his fellow-inhabitants on the
island, during the gale. Many of their houses were levelled to the
ground, and some were blown into the sea. Their cisterns, their only
dependence for water, were mostly destroyed. Even the cannon mounted on
a small battery were dismounted, and most of the inhabitants were in
great distress. Every vessel and boat, that floated about the island,
were blown to sea or destroyed. Out of the twenty vessels that were at
the island on which Mr. Tucker lived, when the gale came on, only six
were heard ever from after. Five out of these six were wrecked on
adjacent islands, and every soul on board three of these perished. The
gale was said, by the oldest inhabitants, to be the most violent ever
known in that region. We remained on the island ten or twelve days, and
then, taking passage in a ship bound for New York, reached that city
safely on the last of November.