small boats, in which was Mr. Simpson, the second mate, with nine
others, was split by the sea. She came alongside, and we put the
carpenter into her, who made what repairs he could, but with little
hope of their answering. We then proceeded to fasten a spray-cloth
of canvas along our gunwale, having lashed a bamboo four feet up the
mast, and fixed it on the intersection of two stanchions at the same
height above the stern. The spray-cloth was firmly lashed along this,
so as to form a kind of half-pent roof, and had it not been for this
imperfect defence we must have been swamped; and we still shipped seas
to so great an extent that four men were obliged to be kept constantly
employed in bailing to keep her clear of water. Towards evening it blew
hard with a tremendous sea, and, not thinking the other damaged boat
safe, we took in her crew and abandoned her. We were now thirty-six
persons, stowed as thick as we could hold, and obliged to throw over
all superfluities. We had not more than eight inches of clear gunwale
out of water!
“This night I shall never forget. Our situation was indeed awful. Wet,
crushed, and miserable, the night passed away, and the day broke at
last. A tremendous sea came roaring down, and I held in my breath with
horror; it broke right over our stern, wetted the poor women to their
throats, and carried away the steersman’s hat. The captain then cried
out, in a tone calculated to inspire with confidence he afterwards told
me his heart did not re-echo:
“‘That’s nothing! It’s all right! Bail away, my boys!’
“He never expected us to live out that night; but, harassed as he was
in mind and body, he gallantly stood up, and never by word or deed
betrayed a feeling that might tend to make us despair. He stood on the
bench that livelong night, nor did he ever attempt to sleep for nearly
forty-eight hours.
“The morning broke and passed away, and, after the change of the moon,
the weather began to moderate, and we enjoyed a comparative degree of
comfort. We had three small meals of biscuit and some jam, etc., and
three half-pints of water per day, with brandy, if we liked it. The men
had one gill of spirits allowed them daily. We had plenty of cigars,
and whenever we could strike a light we had a smoke, and I never found
tobacco so great a luxury. The ladies were most wretched, yet they
never uttered a repining word.
“On the thirteenth evening we began to look out for Rodrigue. The
captain told us not to be too sanguine, as his chronometer was not
to be depended upon after its late rough treatment. The night fell,
and I went forward to sleep, and about twelve was awoke by the cry
that land was right ahead. I looked and saw a strong loom of land
through the mist. The captain had the boat brought to for an hour,
then made sail and ran towards it, and at half-past two it appeared
still more strongly. We then lay to until daylight. I attempted to
compose myself to sleep, but my feelings were too strong, and after
some useless attempts I sat down and smoked with a sensation I had long
been a stranger to. With the first light of dawn, Rodrigue appeared
right ahead, distant about six miles, and by eight o’clock we were all
safely landed. A fisherman who came off to show us the way through the
reefs received us in his house, and proceeded to feed us, and in the
meantime sent to tell the gentlemen of the island of our arrival. Two
of them came down immediately, and, having heard our story, said that
we had been miraculously preserved. They then gave our bundles to their
negroes, and took us to their houses, where everything they had was set
before us--clean linen and a plentiful dinner. They shook us down four
or five beds in an outhouse, and we enjoyed what we had not known for
the last fortnight--a sound sleep.”
ROMANCE OF TREASURE-TROVE
These are True Stories of Treasure, and they are as Strange as Fiction
Interwoven with the story of the sea there is a vast amount of romance
that wraps itself around hidden treasure. Ever since the days when
the pirates roamed the seas at their own sweet will and took toll of
shipping, these tales of treasure have been told. Dotted about here
and there are small islands where tradition has it that the pirates
hid their hoards of gold, silver, and precious jewels, intending
to come back for them at some future date; but, being caught and
hauled to justice, they died with their secret unrevealed, and the
treasure remained. Then someone was told--or perhaps imagined--that
such-and-such an island held it, and expeditions would be fitted out to
seek for the treasure, which, as time rolled on, grew in size and value
till it assumed fabulous proportions.
Of course, there _are_ hidden treasures secreted by the old pirates,
and there are, too, other hoards which it would be well worth while to
salvage, if the exact places were known. One can go back as far as the
reigns of Tiberius and Caligula and find mention of richly laden ships
which foundered with all their treasure; two galleys, for instance,
containing plate, gold, art treasures, and many jewels were lost in the
Lake Nemi, and nothing has ever been recovered, although the lake at
this spot is only little more than a hundred feet deep.
Coming to a much later date, the seventeenth century, there is an
authentic record of the recovery of a vast quantity of lost treasure
which was lost off Hispaniola, when a great Spanish galleon went
down very many years before. A ship’s carpenter named John Phipps
by some means became aware of this sunken treasure, and after some
time prevailed upon the Duke of Albemarle to fit out an expedition to
recover it. That expedition lasted a year, and folks at home began to
think that Phipps’s idea had been all moonshine, and that nothing had
come of it. Then one day the one-time carpenter turned up with treasure
worth £300,000. The story was romantic. Phipps had been searching about
the sea round Hispaniola, for he had no sure idea as to exact locality,
and perhaps he himself had a suspicion that his information had been
incorrect, for he could find no trace of the wealth he sought. Then one
day, when off Port de la Plata, looking over the side of the _Periaga_,
a man “spied,” says the account written by a New England historian,
“a feather growing, as he judged, out of a rock, whereupon one of
their Indians (whom they had brought for the purpose) dived in, and,
bringing up the feather, brought them withal a surprising story that he
perceived a number of great guns in the watery world where he had found
his feather, the report of which great guns exceedingly astonished
the whole company, and at once turned their despondencies for their
ill-success into assurances that they had now lit upon the true spot of
ground which they had been looking for; and they were further confirmed
in their assurances when, upon further diving, the Indian fetched up
a ‘Sow,’ as they styled it, or lump of silver, worth perhaps two or
three hundred pounds. This news was communicated to Phipps. ‘Then,’
said he, ‘thanks be to God, we are made’; and so away they went, all
hands to work.... Now, most happily, they fell upon that room in the
wreck where the bullion had been stored up, and they so prospered in
this ‘new fishing’ that in a little while they had, without the loss of
any man’s life, brought up _thirty-two tons of silver_! For it was now
come to measuring silver by tons. Thus did there once again come into
the light of the sun a treasure which had been half a hundred years
groaning under the water. Besides that incredible treasure in plate of
various forms thus fetched up from seven or eight fathoms under water,
there were vast riches of gold and pearls and jewels.”
Carpenter Phipps received a boisterous welcome in England when he
returned, and was knighted, and in due course became Governor of
Massachusetts.
Sometimes seekers after treasure go forth on their quest and are never
heard of again. In 1888, for instance, there left the Thames a little
steamer called the _Seabird_, which was destined, so it was said, for
coastal work in South America. Some three months later she was seen
off Descada, and from that time to this has not been heard of. Plainly
one of those mysteries of the sea referred to in another chapter; but
a mystery with something behind it. The accepted explanation is that
the owners had gone to seek treasure-trove buried by La Fitte, a French
pirate, in the early days of the nineteenth century, on one of the
Leeward Islands, either Marie Galanti or Descada, where the _Seabird_
was sighted. There might be little in that to connect the _Seabird_
with treasure-hunting, were it not for the fact that when she left the
Thames she had two divers aboard, who were ranked on the books as
steward and cook’s mate. Twelve months after the _Seabird_ disappeared
the mother of Rider, the “steward,” heard from her son, who sent her a
draft on a San Francisco bank for £100, and a letter saying that she
would hear from him again, and that he and the “cook’s mate,” Cadman,
had been “lucky.” He was as silent as the grave as to the fate of the
_Seabird_; and neither he nor any of the crew has been heard of since.
If the pirates were alive, and would only speak! If Blackbeard, that
picturesque scourge of the sea, could but reveal the place where he hid
his treasure, unseen even by his own men, what a rush there would be!
What a hoard might be found! Though not perhaps so large a one as the
tales that are told lead one to suppose. Poor old Captain Kidd’s hidden
wealth, for instance, started with £300--according to a man who sailed
with him--and after the captain was hanged it grew and grew and grew
until it was so large that not one, nor two, but dozens of places were
necessary to hold it! So do myths arise from the flimsiest of facts.
During the sixteenth century, when English ships scoured the seas to
wring wealth from Spain, many a Spanish ship was sunk, with all her
treasure, rather than it should fall into the hands of the “English
devils”; and when the Invincible Armada was put to flight, and,
storm-tossed, sought to reach home by sailing round the north coast of
Scotland and the west coast of Ireland, numbers of the vessels were
wrecked; and, as they contained huge treasures, fortunes might be
gained by properly organised search parties with the latest dredging
and diving apparatus.
Sometimes the romance of treasure-trove is over-clouded by tragedy;
and very often for nothing. The story is told of the foundering of the
American ship _Reliance_, Captain Harding and his crew of twelve men
barely escaping with their lives in the boats. Then a storm broke upon
them and separated the boats, and Hiram Manly, mate, and nine men found
themselves alone on the watery waste, being buffeted about, in danger
every minute of being swamped. They worked desperately to keep her
afloat, happy to be so far safe. Then one man was washed overboard by
a huge wave, another fell dead from his exertions, and the survivors,
day after day under pitiless sun, and night after night, held on
their way, economising the few provisions and little water they had,
becoming delirious as the anxiety told on them. Two more men were lost
one night--perhaps the madness seized them, and they flung themselves
overboard to end it all; perhaps a wave took them. But, whatever it
was, they disappeared without a sound. The survivors, after what seemed
an eternity of suffering, were at last flung upon a coral island, where
they found water, which, because of the uncontrolled thirst upon them,
killed two of them. Then fish was found; Hiram built a fire from drift
wood, lighted it by the crystal glass of a watch and the sun’s rays,
and then went to rouse his sleeping comrades. One man was dead.
Then the three castaways fell to eating their first good meal for many
a day, and afterwards set out to explore the island, Manly going in one
direction and the other two--Dillon and Harper--in another. They found
no sign of human beings, and presently Dillon and Manly met.
“Where’s Harper?” asked Manly.
“We’ll never see him again,” was the reply. “He’s dead.”
“Dead!” cried Manly. “Where did it happen, and how?”
“Sharks!” said Dillon. “He went to bathe, and--and they got him!”
“Did the body come ashore?” Manly asked, filled with horror, and
wondering when his own turn would come. “Let’s go and see!”
“No!” exclaimed Dillon. “It’s no use. We should never find him!”
But Manly persisted, and ran off in the direction from which Dillon had
come; and in half an hour came upon the body of Harper, with a knife
wound in his chest!
Instantly Manly’s thought flew to the agitation of Dillon when he
suggested seeking the body, and he knew that there had been treachery.
But why? Why should Dillon kill Harper, a man with nothing of value on
him? Not even his clothes were worth having, torn and ragged as they
were.
Manly raised himself from beside the dead man, turned, and, turning,
saw Dillon creeping towards him with an open knife in his hand.
Weaponless, Manly for a moment was filled with terror; then, catching
up a handful of sand, he flung it into the murderer’s eyes, blinding
him for the minute. Then, with a bound, Manly was upon him, clutching
him by the throat and wrestling for the knife. For a long time the two
men fought, biting, scratching, Dillon seeking to use his knife, Manly
trying to seize it; but at last, with a sharp twist, Manly sent the
murderer headlong to the ground, and the next instant was upon him,
and, joy! he had the knife.
Again they fought.... And Dillon met the fate of the man he had killed.
Panting from his exertions, Manly sat on the sand beside the dead man,
and his bleared eyes looked out to sea. He leapt to his feet, weariness
all gone, all thought of the tragedy forgotten; he waved his hands
frenziedly, yelled hysterically:
“A sail! A sail!”
Away out there was a ship.
Tearing his shirt from his back, Manly rushed to the water’s edge and
waved it long and feverishly, waved it till there came from the ship
the boom of a gun, that told him he had been seen. And then reaction
set in; he dropped senseless to the earth.
They found him thus; found Dillon, too, lying dead, and knew that some
tragedy had been enacted on the silent, lonely strand. When Manly came
round he blurted out his story, telling all.
“But why should he have killed Harper?” said the officer who had come
ashore with the boat party.
“It fails me,” said Manly.
The next moment the pair were startled as a seaman rushed towards them
with a cry upon his lips. He placed something in the officer’s hand.
They were two small golden coins.
They were coins such as Manly knew none of his comrades had possessed,
and there was a gleam in his eyes as he looked at the officer, neither
speaking a word.
Quietly they walked over to Dillon, searched him, and found three more
coins of the same kind.
“Reckon that was the motive, sir,” said Manly. “They found these while
they were exploring the island, and Dillon, thinking he had come across
treasure-trove, decided to kill us both off. Harper went first, and my
turn would have come very soon. Thank God I went in search of Harper!”
The officer agreed with Manly in his suggestion, and soon had his men
searching the beach; but not another coin was discovered. Instead, they
found the skeleton of a man--of some poor mariner, no doubt, who had
been cast ashore, his worldly possessions consisting of the five gold
coins that had roused the cupidity of Dillon, and had brought tragedy
upon them.
Presently Manly was taken on board the _Bristol_, and sailed away from
the coral island, the scene of a tragedy of treasure that never existed.
Everyone has heard of the treasure of Cocos Islands, off Panama,
to which many expeditions have been sent, though without success.
The treasure was hidden by a pirate named Beneto Bonito, and hidden
so securely that, although many expeditions--some of them recent
ones--have been sent out to find it, none has yet succeeded. But,
despite failure, year after year men go forth, secretly and well
equipped, seeking the hoards of riches that they fondly believe they
will some day find.
Perhaps they will.
ADVENTURES UNDER SEA
Strange Happenings to Submarines and Divers
Man, not content with fighting Father Neptune for mastery on the seas,
has gone farther than that, and has sought to show that he is not
afraid of any terrors beneath the seas: he would be master over all.
So men have become divers; so ships which can sink and rise again have
been made. And the diver and the submarine boat have added to the tale
of man’s conquest over Nature; their chapter is as full of vigour and
vim and adventure as any chapter in the tale.
We are not concerned with the make-up of the submarine, but with the
adventures of the brave and hardy sailors who man them, and the part
the boats play in great naval wars. The latter may be dismissed by
saying that the submarine’s work is to dash forth from the security of
harbours, and make sudden attacks upon the bigger craft of the enemy
in the hope of reducing their number. These were the tactics employed
by Germany in the great war of 1914-15. Aware that Britain’s navy was
vastly superior to her own, and that the only hope for success in
a great encounter would be when the British navy had been reduced,
Germany kept her Dreadnoughts and other big craft safe in her harbours,
contenting herself with sending out submarines to strike sudden blows
at the British patrolling vessels guarding the seas. Britain employed
her submarines for the purpose of luring the Germans from their
harbours (as the account, given in another chapter, of the Battle of
the Bight of Heligoland shows).
While British and German submarines were playing the risky game of
scouring the seas, French submarines were not idle; and in the latter
days of December, 1914, there was told the story of an adventure as
thrilling as ever fictionist wove for the delight of his readers.
The number of the submarine was not given; neither was the name of
the place where the incident took place. All that was told was that
on a certain Saturday morning the submarine left port, and at three
o’clock on the following morning had reached its objective--namely,
an enemy port. Two miles out the boat dived, and going at the rate of
about three miles an hour, made for the entrance of the port where
the Frenchmen hoped to find some battleships which would provide good
targets for their torpedoes. In due course they reached the entrance;
it was guarded by a boom, on the other side of which were several
battleships and destroyers.
Chagrined at the fact that the boom prevented them from firing at the
warships, the French sailors hung about awhile in the hope that the
enemy would perhaps issue forth. Meanwhile, the officer kept his eye
upon the mirror, which through the periscope showed him what was going
on, and which, incidentally, was a source of danger to the submarine;
for the eye of the submarine, sticking up about eighteen inches
above the surface, is easily seen in good light by the look-out of a
battleship; and in time of war a very sharp watch is kept for these
bobbing “eyes,” which betoken the presence of death-dealing boats. The
Frenchmen knew their danger, but they had come out to do something, and
refused to give up until they found it impossible to carry out their
mission.
So they stayed there--waiting for something to happen.
Then it happened.
The man at the mirror saw the battleships and destroyers moving, and,
giving the order to stand by, he waited until they passed within a
short distance of the submarine. They were anxious moments for every
man in her; they knew that at any minute some watcher on the enemy’s
decks might detect them and heavy shells come hurtling towards them,
perhaps to snap the periscope and turn the cigar-shaped craft into a
blind, helpless thing, when, if she kept below, she might run foul of
a ship’s bottom, and if she rose to the surface be at the mercy of the
waiting foes. Into such moments is crowded the spice of war, and these
gallant Frenchmen were quite prepared for it.
Luckily the foes passed by without noticing the lurking boat, and the
officer, anxious to get within a distance which would enable him to
take a more accurate aim, gave orders for the submarine to draw nearer
to them. Stealthily she approached, every man in her at tension and
at his post, ready for the time to come when they could launch their
death-tube.
Suddenly the boat seemed to shiver, then to strain as a dog strains at
the leash, then to shiver again; and there was a grinding noise. Then
the boat came to a standstill, though her engines were still going.
Instantly the men sprang into action, seeking the cause of this
unfortunate event. What had happened? they asked themselves. They
soon knew. Investigation showed them that steel cables had caught
the rudder of their boat and held her prisoner. Apparently this was
a method adopted by the enemy to trap them, for the cables drew them
upwards--ever upwards, till they were close to the surface, and at the
same time torpedoes came swishing through the water towards them.
Time after time these death-tubes sped at them, to miss them by merest
fractions of inches, it seemed. Simultaneously shells fell thick
and fast around them, sending the water up in great spouts. It was
literally an inferno, from which the Frenchmen realised that there was
little chance of escape. But what chance there was they took.
Boxed up in their little citadel they waited for death--waited for the
crash that would tell them a shell had found its target; waited for the
explosion which would end the suspense and bring the death that was so
slow in coming. This waiting in helplessness was far worse than taking
the chances of death in an encounter with the foe when they were free
to fight manfully against them.
But though they knew that death was so near to them, and though escape
seemed impossible, yet they bent their every effort in an attempt to
free the boat from the grip of the cables. They filled the water tanks
to their utmost capacity, and every man joined in pressing on the
steering wheel; the perspiration of energy and anxiety stood upon their
brows as they worked; the atmosphere was electric; they knew that the
next few minutes must decide their fate. How they worked! What prayers
for life they prayed, these men of death!
Suddenly the grim silence of the interior was broken by the cries of
the men--cries of joy. With her engines at full speed, the little
craft had fought and strained against the impeding leash, had fought
victoriously, for with a jerk the cables broke away and the submarine
bounded forward; the men at the wheel felt it answer to their pressure,
and down the boat went at full speed to a depth of sixteen metres.
They were saved!
Ecstatic in their joy at deliverance the Frenchmen embraced each other,
and for a moment forgot that above them rode the giant foes who,
unaware yet that they had escaped from the cables, were no doubt still
potting away at the spot, and still sending their torpedoes in that
direction. But very soon the sailors came back to the world of action,
and realised that they were still far from safe; they must hurry away
immediately if they would escape. There was little chance of doing any
damage to the foe, who were now on the _qui vive_; and only one course
was open to the French, and that was to get away. They dared not rise
to the surface, and they had to chance their luck and keep below. For
two hours--hours full of anxiety--they went along under water, well
aware that they were pursued by the foes, whose guns continually spoke
as the periscope was fired at. Knot after knot was eaten up, and still
the pursuers kept on after them; but at last they were shaken off, and
the men in the submarine knew that they were indeed safe.
But, cautious even now, they still remained beneath the surface till
the shades of evening fell; and then, and then only, did they dare to
rise, after having been submerged for nothing short of twelve hours!
Twelve hours as full of peril and thrill as any hours man ever spent!