The fleet under Admiral Rymelandt's command was ordered to proceed to
the East Indies by the western route, through the Straits of Magellan
into the Pacific Ocean--it being still imagined, notwithstanding
previous failures, that this route offered facilities which might
shorten the passage to the Spice Islands.
The vessels composing the fleet were the Lion of forty-four guns,
bearing the admiral's flag; the Dort of thirty-six guns, with the
commodore's pendant--to which Philip was appointed; the Zuyder Zee of
twenty; the Young Frau of twelve, and a ketch of four guns, called the
Schevelling.
The crew of the Vrow Katerina were divided between the two larger
vessels; the others, being smaller, were easier worked with fewer hands.
Every arrangement having been made, the boats were hoisted up, and the
ships made sail. For ten days they were baffled by light winds, and the
victims to the scurvy increased considerably on board of Philip's
vessel. Many died and were thrown overboard, and others were carried
down to their hammocks.
The newly-appointed commodore, whose name was Avenhorn, went on board of
the admiral, to report the state of the vessel and to suggest, as Philip
had proposed to him, that they should make the coast of South America,
and endeavour by bribery or by force to obtain supplies either from the
Spanish inhabitants or the natives. But to this the admiral would not
listen. He was an imperious, bold, and obstinate man, not to be
persuaded or convinced, and with little feeling for the sufferings of
others. Tenacious of being advised, he immediately rejected a
proposition which, had it originated with himself, would probably have
been immediately acted upon; and the commodore returned on board his
vessel, not only disappointed, but irritated by the language used
towards him.
"What are we do, Captain Vanderdecken? you know too well our situation--
it is impossible we can continue long at sea; if we do, the vessel will
be drifting at the mercy of the waves, while the crew die a wretched
death in their hammocks. At present we have forty men left; in ten days
more we shall probably have but twenty; for as the labour becomes more
severe, so do they drop down the faster. Is it not better to risk our
lives in combat with the Spaniards, than die here like rotten sheep?"
"I perfectly agree with you, commodore," replied Philip;--"but still we
must obey orders. The admiral is an inflexible man."
"And a cruel one. I have a great mind to part company in the night, and
if he finds fault, I will justify myself to the Directors on my return."
"Do nothing rashly--perhaps, when day by day he finds his own ship's
company more weakened, he will see the necessity, of following your
advice."
A week had passed away after this conversation, and the fleet had made
little progress. In each ship the ravages of the fatal disease became
more serious, and, as the commodore had predicted, he had but twenty men
really able to do duty. Nor had the admiral's ship and the other
vessels suffered less. The commodore again went on board to reiterate
his proposition.
Admiral Rymelandt was not only a stern, but a vindictive man. He was
aware of the propriety of the suggestion made by his second in command,
but having refused it, he would not acquiesce; and he felt revengeful
against the commodore, whose counsel he must now either adopt, or by
refusing it be prevented from taking the steps so necessary for the
preservation of his crew, and the success of his voyage. Too proud to
acknowledge himself in error, again did he decidedly refuse, and the
commodore went back to his own ship. The fleet was then within three
days of the coast, steering to the southward for the Straits of
Magellan, and that night, after Philip had returned to his cot, the
commodore went on deck and ordered the course of the vessel to be
altered some points more to the westward. The night was very dark, and
the Lion was the only ship which carried a poop-lantern, so that the
parting company of the Dort was not perceived by the admiral and the
other ships of the fleet. When Philip went on deck next morning, he
found that their consorts were not in sight. He looked at the compass,
and perceiving that the course was altered, inquired at what hour and by
whose directions. Finding that it was by his superior officer, he of
course said nothing. When the commodore came on deck, he stated to
Philip that he felt himself warranted in not complying with the
admiral's orders, as it would have been sacrificing the whole ship's
company. This was, indeed, true.
In two days they made the land, and running into the shore, perceived a
large town and Spaniards on the beach. Then anchored at the mouth of
the river, and hoisted English colours, when a boat came on board to ask
them who they were and what they required? The commodore replied that
the vessel was English, for he knew that the hatred of the Spanish to
the Dutch was so great that, if known to belong to that nation, he would
have had no chance of procuring any supplies, except by force. He
stated that he had fallen in with a Spanish vessel, a complete wreck,
from the whole of the crew being afflicted with the scurvy; that he had
taken the men out, who were now in their hammocks below, as he
considered it cruel to leave so many of his fellow-creatures to perish,
and that he had come out of his course to land them at the first Spanish
fort he could reach. He requested that they would immediately send on
board vegetables and fresh provisions for the sick men, whom it would be
death to remove, until after a few days, when they would be a little
restored; and added, that in return for their assisting the Spaniards,
he trusted the governor would also send supplies for his own people.
This well made-up story was confirmed by the officer sent on board by
the Spanish governor. Being requested to go down below and see the
patients, the sight of so many poor fellows in the last stage of that
horrid disease--their teeth fallen out, gums ulcerated, bodies full of
tumours and sores--was quite sufficient; and hurrying up from the lower
deck, as he would have done from a charnel-house, the officer hastened
on shore and made his report.
In two hours a large boat was sent off with fresh beef and vegetables
sufficient for three days' supply for the ship's company, and these were
immediately distributed among the men. A letter of thanks was returned
by the commodore, stating that his health was so indifferent as to
prevent his coming on shore in person to thank the governor, and
forwarding a pretended list of the Spaniards on board, in which he
mentioned some officers and people of distinction, whom he imagined
might be connected with the family of the governor, whose name and
titles he had received from the messenger sent on board; for the Dutch
knew full well the majority of the noble Spanish families--indeed,
alliances had continually taken place between them, previous to their
assertion of their independence. The commodore concluded his letter by
expressing a hope that, in a day or two, he should be able to pay his
respects, and make arrangements for the landing of the sick, as he was
anxious to proceed on his voyage of discovery.
On the third day, a fresh supply of provisions was sent on board, and so
soon as they were received the commodore, in an English uniform went on
shore and called upon the governor, gave a long detail of the sufferings
of the people he had rescued, and agreed that they should be sent on
shore in two days, as they would by that time be well enough to be
moved. After many compliments, he went on board, the governor having
stated his intention to return his visit on the following day, if the
weather were not too rough. Fortunately, the weather was rough for the
next two days, and it was not until the third that the governor made his
appearance. This was precisely what the commodore wished.
There is no disease, perhaps, so dreadful or so rapid in its effects
upon the human frame, and at the same time so instantaneously checked,
as the scurvy, if the remedy can be procured. A few days were
sufficient to restore those, who were not able to turn in their
hammocks, to their former vigour. In the course of the six days nearly
all the crew of the Dort were convalescent, and able to go on deck; but
still they were not cured. The commodore waited for the arrival of the
governor, received him with all due honours, and then, so soon as he was
in the cabin, told him very politely that he and all his officers with
him were prisoners. That the vessel was a Dutch man-of-war, and that it
was his own people, and not Spaniards, who had been dying of the scurvy.
He consoled him, however, by pointing out that he had thought it
preferable to obtain provisions by this _ruse_, than to sacrifice lives
on both sides by taking them by force, and that his Excellency's
captivity would endure no longer than until he had received on board a
sufficient number of live bullocks and fresh vegetables to insure the
recovery of the ship's company; and, in the mean time, not the least
insult would be offered to him. Whereupon the Spanish governor first
looked at the commodore and then at the file of armed men at the
cabin-door, and then to his distance from the town; and then called to
mind the possibility of his being taken out to sea. Weighing all these
points in his mind, and the very moderate ransom demanded (for bullocks
were not worth a dollar a piece in that country), he resolved, as he
could not help himself, to comply with the commodore's terms. He called
for pen and ink, and wrote an order to send on board immediately all
that was demanded. Before sunset the bullocks and vegetables were
brought off, and, so soon as they were alongside, the commodore, with
many bows and many thanks, escorted the governor to the gangway,
complimenting him with a salvo of great guns, as he had done before, on
his arrival. The people on shore thought that his Excellency had paid a
long visit, but, as he did not like to acknowledge that he had been
deceived, nothing was said about it, at least in his hearing, although
the facts were soon well known. As soon as the boats were cleared, the
commodore weighed anchor and made sail well satisfied with having
preserved his ship's company and as the Falkland Islands, in case of
parting company, had been named as the rendezvous, he steered for them.
In a fortnight he arrived, and found that his admiral was not yet there.
His crew were now all recovered, and his fresh beef was not yet
expended, when he perceived the admiral and the three other vessels in
the offing.
It appeared that so soon as the Dort had parted company, the admiral had
immediately acted upon the advice that the commodore had given him, and
had run for the coast. Not being so fortunate in a _ruse_ as his second
in command, he had landed an armed force from the four vessels, and had
succeeded in obtaining several head of cattle, at the expense of an
equal number of men killed and wounded. But at the same time they had
collected a large quantity of vegetables of one sort or another, which
they had carried on board and distributed with great success to the
sick, who were gradually recovering.
Immediately that the admiral had anchored, he made the signal for the
commodore to repair on board, and taxed him with disobedience of orders
in having left the fleet. The commodore did not deny that he had so
done, but excused himself upon the plea of necessity, offering to lay
the whole matter before the Court of Directors so soon as they returned;
but the admiral was vested with most extensive powers, not only of the
trial, but the _condemnation_ and punishment of any person guilty of
mutiny and insubordination in his fleet. In reply, he told the
commodore that he was a prisoner, and to prove it, he confined him in
irons under the half-deck.
A signal was then made for all the captains: they went on board, and of
course Philip was of the number. On their arrival, the admiral held a
summary court-martial, proving to them by his instructions that he was
so warranted to do. The result of the court-martial could be but one--
condemnation for a breach of discipline, to which Philip was obliged
reluctantly to sign his name. The admiral then gave Philip the
appointment of second in command, and the commodore's pendant, much to
the annoyance of the captains commanding the other vessels; but in this
the admiral proved his judgment, as there was no one of them so fit for
the task as Philip. Having so done, he dismissed them. Philip would
have spoken to the late commodore, but the sentry opposed it, as against
his orders; and with a friendly nod, Philip was obliged to leave him
without the desired communication.
The fleet remained three weeks at the Falkland Islands, to recruit the
ships' companies. Although there was no fresh beef, there was plenty of
scurvy-grass and penguins. These birds were in myriads on some parts of
the island, which, from the propinquity of their nests, built of mud,
went by the name of _towns_. There they sat close together (the whole
area which they covered being bare of grass) hatching their eggs and
rearing their young. The men had but to select as many eggs and birds
as they pleased and so numerous were they, that when they had supplied
themselves, there was no apparent diminution of the numbers. This food,
although in a short time not very palatable to the seamen, had the
effect of restoring them to health, and before the fleet sailed, there
was not a man who was afflicted with the scurvy. In the mean time the
commodore remained in irons, and many were the conjectures concerning
his ultimate fate. The power of life and death was known to be in the
admiral's hands, but no one thought that such power would be exerted up
on a delinquent of so high a grade. The other captains kept aloof from
Philip, and he knew little of what was the general idea. Occasionally
when on board of the admiral's ship, he ventured to bring up the
question, but was immediately silenced; and feeling that he might injure
the late commodore (for whom he had a regard), he would risk nothing by
importunity; and the fleet sailed for the Straits of Magellan without
anybody being aware of what might be the result of the court-martial.
It was about a fortnight after they had left the Falkland Islands, that
they entered the Straits. At first they had a leading wind which
carried them half through, but this did not last, and they then had to
contend not only against the wind, but against the current, and they
daily lost ground. The crews of the ships also began to sicken from
fatigue and cold. Whether the admiral had before made up his mind, or
whether irritated by his fruitless endeavours to continue his voyage, it
is impossible to say; but after three weeks' useless struggle against
the wind and currents, he hove to and ordered the captains on board,
when he proposed that the prisoner should receive his punishment--and
that punishment was--_to be deserted_; that is, to be sent on shore with
a day's food, where there was no means of obtaining support, so as to
die miserably of hunger. This was a punishment frequently resorted to
by the Dutch at that period, as will be seen by reading an account of
their voyages; but at the same time seldom, if ever, awarded to one of
so high a rank as that of commodore.
Philip immediately protested against it, and so did Krantz, although
they were both aware, that by so doing, they would make the admiral
their enemy; but the other captains, who viewed both of them with a
jealous eye, and considered them as interlopers and interfering with
their advancement, sided with the admiral. Notwithstanding this
majority, Philip thought it his duty to expostulate.
"You know well, admiral," said he, "that I joined in his condemnation
for a breach of discipline: but at the same time there was much in
extenuation. He committed a breach of discipline to save his ship's
company, but not an error in judgment, as you yourself proved, by taking
the same measure to save your own men. Do not, therefore, visit an
offence of so doubtful a nature with such cruelty. Let the Company
decide the point when you send him home, which you can do so soon as you
arrive in India. He is sufficiently punished by losing his command: to
do what you propose will be ascribed to feelings of revenge more than to
those of justice. What success can we deserve if we commit an act of
such cruelty; and how can we expect a merciful Providence to protect us
from the winds and waves, when we are thus barbarous towards each
other?"
Philip's arguments were of no avail. The admiral ordered him to return
on board his ship, and had he been able to find an excuse, he would have
deprived him of his command. This he could not well do; but Philip was
aware that the admiral was now his inveterate enemy. The commodore was
taken out of irons and brought into the cabin, and his sentence was made
known to him.
"Be it so, admiral," replied Avenhorn; "for to attempt to turn you from
your purpose, I know would be unavailing. I am not punished for
disobedience of orders, but for having, by my disobedience, pointed out
to you your duty--a duty which you were forced to perform afterwards by
necessity. Then be it so; let me perish on these black rocks, as I
shall, and my bones be whitened by the chilly blasts which howl over
their desolation. But mark me, cruel and vindictive man! I shall not
be the only one whose bones will bleach there. I prophesy that many
others will share my fate, and even you, admiral, _may_ be of the
number,--if I mistake not, we shall lie side by side."
The admiral made no reply, but gave a sign for the prisoner to be
removed. He then had a conference with the captains of the three
smaller vessels; and, as they had been all along retarded by the heavier
sailing of his own ship, and the Dort commanded by Philip, he decided
that they should part company, and proceed on as fast as they could to
the Indies--sending on board of the two larger vessels all the
provisions they could spare, as they already began to run short.
Philip had left the cabin with Krantz after the prisoner had been
removed. He then wrote a few lines upon a slip of paper--"Do not leave
the beach when you are put on shore, until the vessels are out of
sight;" and requesting Krantz to find an opportunity to deliver this to
the commodore, he returned on board of his own ship.
When the crew of the Dort heard of the punishment about to be inflicted
upon their old commander, they were much excited. They felt that he had
sacrificed himself to save them, and they murmured much at the cruelty
of the admiral.
About an hour after Philip's return to his ship, the prisons was sent on
shore and landed on the desolate and rocky coast, with a supply of
provisions for two days. Not a single article of extra clothing, or the
means of striking a light, was permitted him. When the boat's keel
grazed the beach, ha was ordered out. The boat shoved off, and the men
were not permitted even to bid him farewell.
The fleet, as Philip had expected, remained hove to shifting the
provisions, and it was not till after dark that everything was arranged.
This opportunity was not lost. Philip was aware that it would be
considered a breach of discipline, but to that he was indifferent;
neither did he think it likely that it would come to the ears of the
admiral, as the crew of the Dort were partial both to the commodore and
to him. He had desired a seaman whom he could trust, to put into one of
the boats a couple of muskets, and a quantity of ammunition, several
blankets, and various other articles, besides provisions for two or
three months for one person; and as soon as it was dark the men pulled
on shore with the boat, found the commodore on the beach waiting for
them, and supplied him with all these necessaries. They then rejoined
their ship, without the admiral's having the least suspicion of what had
been done, and shortly after the fleet made sail on a wind, with their
heads off shore. The next morning, the three smaller vessels parted
company, and by sunset had gained many miles to windward, after which
they were not again seen.
The admiral had sent for Philip to give him his instructions, which were
very severe, and evidently framed so as to be able to afford him
hereafter some excuse for depriving him of his command. Among others,
his orders were, as the Dort drew much less water than the admiral's
ship, to sail ahead of him during the night, that if they approached too
near the land as they beat across the Channel, timely notice might be
given to the admiral, if in too shallow water. This responsibility was
the occasion of Philip's being always on deck when they approached the
land on either side of the Straits. It was the second night after the
fleet had separated that Philip had been summoned on deck as they were
nearing the land of Terra del Fuego: he was watching the man in the
chains heaving the head, when the officer of the watch reported to him
that the admiral's ship was ahead of them instead of astern. Philip
made inquiry as to when he passed, but could not discover; he went
forward, and saw the admiral's ship with her poop-light, which, when the
admiral was astern, was not visible. "What can be the admiral's reason
for this?" thought Philip; "has he run ahead for purpose to make a
charge against me of neglect of duty? It must be so. Well, let him do
as he pleases; he must wait now till we arrive in India, for I shall not
allow him to _desert_ me; and with the Company, I have as much, and I
rather think, as a large proprietor, more interest than he has. Well as
he has thought proper to go ahead, I have nothing to do but to follow.
`You may come out of the chains there.'"
Philip went forward: they were now, as he imagined, very near to the
land, but the night was dark and they could not distinguish it. For
half an hour they continued their course, much to Philip's surprise, for
he now thought he could make out the loom of the land, dark as it was.
His eyes were constantly fixed upon the ship ahead, expecting every
minute that she would go about; but no, she continued her course, and
Philip followed with his own vessel.
"We are very close to the land, sir," observed Vander Hagen, the
lieutenant, who was the officer of the watch.
"So it appears to me: but the admiral is closer and draws much more
water than we do," replied Philip.
"I think I see the rocks on the beam to leeward, sir."
"I believe you are right," replied Philip: "I cannot understand this.
Ready about, and get a gun ready--they must suppose us to be ahead of
them, depend up on it."
Hardly had Philip given the order, when the vessel struck heavily on the
rocks. Philip hastened aft; he found that the rudder had been
unshipped, and the vessel was immovably fixed. His thoughts then
reverted to the admiral. "Was he on shore?" He ran forward, and the
admiral was still sailing on with his poop-light about two cables'
length ahead of him.
"Fire the gun, there," cried Philip, perplexed beyond measure.
The gun was fired, and immediately followed up by the flash and report
of another gun close astern of them. Philip looked with astonishment
over the quarter, and perceived the admiral's ship close astern to him,
and evidently on shore as well as his own.
"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Philip, rushing forward, "what can this
be?" He beheld the other vessel, with her light ahead, still sailing on
and leaving them. The day was now dawning, and there was sufficient
light to make out the land. The Dort was on shore not fifty yards from
the beach, and surrounded by the high and barren rocks; yet the vessel
ahead was apparently sailing on over the land. The seamen crowded on
the forecastle, watching this strange phenomenon; at last it vanished
from their sight.
"That's the Flying Dutchman, by all that's holy!" cried one of the
seamen, jumping off the gun.
Hardly had the man uttered these words when the vessel disappeared.
Philip felt convinced that it was so, and he walked away aft in a very
perturbed state. It must have been his father's fatal ship which had
decoyed them to probable destruction. He hardly knew how to act. The
admiral's wrath he did not wish, just at that moment, to encounter. He
sent for the officer of the watch, and having desired him to select a
crew for the boat, out of those men who had been on deck, and could
substantiate his assertions, ordered him to go on board of the admiral,
and state what had happened.
As soon as the boat had shoved off, Philip turned his attention to the
state of his own vessel. The daylight had increased and Philip
perceived that they were surrounded by rocks, and had run on shore
between two reefs, which extended half a mile from the mainland. He
sounded round his vessel, and discovered that she was fixed from forward
to aft, and that without lightening her, there was no chance of getting
her off. He then turned to where the admiral's ship lay aground and
found that, to all appearance, she was in even a worse plight, as the
rocks to leeward of her were above the water, and she was much more
exposed, should bad weather come on. Never, perhaps, was there a scene
more cheerless and appalling: a dark wintry sea--a sky loaded with heavy
clouds--the wind cold and piercing--the whole line of the coast one mass
of barren rocks, without the slightest appearance of vegetation; the
inland part of the country presented an equally sombre appearance, and
the higher points were capped with snow, although it was not yet the
winter season. Sweeping the coast with his eye, Philip perceived, not
four miles to leeward of them (so little progress had they made), the
spot where they had _deserted_ the commodore.
"Surely this has been a judgment on him for his cruelty," thought
Philip, "and the prophecy of poor Avenhorn will come true--more bones
than his will bleach on those rocks." Philip, turned round again to
where the admiral's ship was on shore, and started back, as he beheld a
sight even more dreadful than all that he had viewed--the body of Vander
Hagen, the officer sent on board of the admiral hanging at the
main-yard-arm. "My God! is it possible?" exclaimed Philip, stamping
with sorrow and indignation.
His boat was returning on board, and Philip awaited it with impatience.
The men hastened up the side, and breathlessly informed Philip that the
admiral, as soon as he had heard the lieutenant's report, and his
acknowledgment that he was officer of the watch, had ordered him to be
hung, and that he had sent them back with a summons for him to repair on
board immediately, and that they had seen another rope preparing at the
other yardarm.
"But not for you, sir," cried the men--"that shall never be--you shall
not go on board--and we will defend you with our lives."
The whole ship's company joined in this resolution, and expressed their
determination to resist the admiral. Philip thanked them kindly--stated
his intention of not going on board, and requested that they would
remain quiet, until it was ascertained what steps the admiral might
take. He then went down to his cabin, to reflect upon what plan he
should proceed. As he looked out of the stern windows, and perceived
the body of the young man still swinging in the wind, he almost wished
that he was in his place, for then there would be an end to his wayward
fate: but he thought of Amine, and felt, that for her he wished to live.
That the Phantom Ship should have decoyed him to destruction was also a
source of much painful feeling, and Philip meditated, with his hands
pressed to his temples. "It is my destiny," thought he at last, "and
the will of Heaven must be done: we could not have been so deceived if
Heaven had not permitted it." And then his thoughts reverted to his
present situation.
That the admiral had exceeded his powers in taking the life of the
officer was undeniable, as although his instructions gave him power of
life and death, still it was only to be decided by the sentence of the
court-martial held by the captains commanding the vessels of the fleet;
he therefore felt himself justified in resistance. But Philip was
troubled with the idea that such resistance might lead to much
bloodshed; and he was still debating how to act, when they reported to
him that there was a boat coming from the admiral's ship. Philip went
upon deck to receive the officer, who stated that it was the admiral's
order that he should immediately come on board, and that he must
consider himself now under arrest and deliver up his sword.
"No! no!" exclaimed the ship's company of the Dort. "He shall not go on
board. We will stand by our captain to the last."
"Silence, men! silence!" cried Philip. "You must be aware, sir," said
he to the officer, "that in the cruel punishment of that innocent young
man the admiral has exceeded his powers: and, much as I regret to see
any symptoms of mutiny and insubordination, it must be remembered, that
if those in command disobey the orders they have received, by exceeding
them, they not only set the example, but give an excuse for those who
otherwise would be bound to obey them, to do the same. Tell the admiral
that his murder of that innocent man has determined me no longer to
consider myself under his authority, and that I will hold myself as well
as him answerable to the Company whom we serve, for our conduct. I do
not intend to go on board and put myself in his power, that he might
gratify his resentment by my ignominious death. It is a duty that I owe
these men under my command to preserve my life, that I may, if possible,
preserve theirs in this strait; and you may also add, that a little
reflection must point out to him that this is no time for us to war
with, but to assist each other with all our energies. We are here,
shipwrecked on a barren coast, with provisions insufficient for any
lengthened stay, no prospect of succour, and little of escape. As the
commodore truly prophesied, many more are likely to perish as well as
him--and even the admiral himself may be of the number. I shall wait
his answer; if he choose to lay aside all animosity, and refer our
conduct to a higher tribunal, I am willing to join with him in rendering
that assistance to each other which our situation requires--if not, you
must perceive, and of course will tell him, that I have those with me
who will defend me against any attempt at force. You have my answer,
sir, and may return on board."
The officer went to the gangway, but found that none of his crew, except
the bowman were in the boat; they had gone up to gain from the men of
the Dort the true history of what they but imperfectly heard: and before
they were summoned to return, had received full intelligence. They
coincided with the seamen of the Dort, that the appearance of the
Phantom Ship, which had occasioned their present disaster, was a
judgment upon the admiral, for his conduct in having so cruelly
_deserted_ the poor commodore.
Upon the return of the officer with Philip's answer, the rage of the
admiral was beyond all bounds. He ordered the guns aft which would bear
upon the Dort to be double-shotted, and fired into her; but Krantz
pointed out to him that they could not bring more guns to bear upon the
Dort, in their present situation, than the Dort could bring to bear upon
them; that their superior force was thus neutralised, and that no
advantage could result from taking such a step. The admiral immediately
put Krantz under arrest, and proceeded to put into execution his insane
intentions. In this he was, however, prevented by the seamen of the
Lion, who neither wished to fire upon their consort, or to be fired at
in return. The report of the boat's crew had been circulated through
the ship, and the men felt too much ill-will against the admiral, an
perceived at the same time the extreme difficulty of their situation, to
wish to make it worse. They did not proceed to open mutiny, but they
went down below, and when the officers ordered them up, they refused to
go upon deck; and the officers, who were equally disgusted with the
admiral's conduct, merely informed him of the state of the ship's
company, without naming individuals so as to excite his resentment
against any one in particular. Such was the state of affairs when the
sun went down. Nothing had been done on board the admiral's ship, for
Krantz was under arrest, and the admiral had retired in a state of fury
to his cabin.
In the mean time, Philip and the ship's company had not been idle--they
had laid an anchor out astern, and hove taut: they had started all the
water, and were pumping it out, when a boat pulled alongside, and Krantz
made his appearance on deck.
"Captain Vanderdecken, I have come to put myself under your orders, if
you will receive me--if not, render me your protection; for, as sure as
fate, I should have been hanged to-morrow morning, if I had remained in
my own ship. The men in the boat have come with the same intention--
that of joining you, if you will permit them."
Although Philip would have wished it had been otherwise, he could not
well refuse to receive Krantz, under the circumstances of the case. He
was very partial to him, and to save his life, which certainly was in
danger, he would have done much more. He desired that the boat's crew
should return; but when Krantz had stated to him what had occurred on
board the Lion, and the crew earnestly begged him not to send them back
to almost certain death, which their having effected the escape of
Krantz would have assured, Philip reluctantly allowed them to remain.
The night was tempestuous, but the wind being now off shore, the water
was not rough. The crew of the Dort, under the directions of Philip and
Krantz, succeeded in lightening the vessel so much during the night,
that the next morning they were able to haul her off, and found that her
bottom had received no serious injury. It was fortunate for them that
they had not discontinued their exertions, for the wind shifted a few
hours before sunrise, and by the time that they had shipped their
rudder, it came on to blow fresh down the Straits, the wind being
accompanied with a heavy swell.
The admiral's ship still lay aground, and apparently no exertions were
used to get her off. Philip was much puzzled how to act: leave the crew
of the Lion he could not; nor indeed could he refuse, or did he wish to
refuse the admiral, if he proposed coming on board; but he now made up
his mind that it should only be as a passenger, and that he would
himself retain the command. At present he contented himself with
dropping his anchor outside, clear of the reef, where he was sheltered
by a bluff cape, under which the water was smooth, about a mile distant
from where the admiral's ship lay on shore; and he employed his crew in
replenishing his water-casks from a rivulet close to where the ship was
anchored. He waited to see if the other vessel got off, being convinced
that if she did not, some communication must soon take place. As soon
as the water was complete, he sent one of his boats to the place where
the commodore had been landed, having resolved to take him on board, if
they could find him; but the boat returned without having seen anything
of him, although the men had clambered over the hills to a considerable
distance.
On the second morning after Philip had hauled his vessel off, they
observed that the boats of the admiral's ship were passing and repassing
from the shore, landing her stores and provisions; and the next day,
from the tents pitched on shore, it was evident that she was abandoned,
although the boats were still employed in taking articles out of her.
That night it blew fresh, and the sea was heavy; the next morning her
masts were gone, and she turned on her broadside: she was evidently a
wreck, and Philip now consulted with Krantz how to act. To leave the
crew of the Lion on shore was impossible: they must all perish when the
winter set in upon such a desolate coast. On the whole, it was
considered advisable that the first communication should come from the
other party, and Philip resolved to remain quietly at anchor.
It was very plain that there was no longer any subordination among the
crew of the Lion, who were to be seen, in the day time, climbing over
the rocks in every direction, and at night, when their large fires were
lighted, carousing and drinking. This waste of provisions was a subject
of much vexation to Philip. He had not more than sufficient for his own
crew, and he took it for granted that, so soon as what they had taken on
shore should be expended, the crew of the Lion would ask to be received
on board of the Dort.
For more than a week did affairs continue in this state when one morning
a boat was seen pulling towards the ship and in the stern-sheets Philip
recognised the officer who had been sent on board to put him under
arrest. When the officer came on deck he took off his hat to Philip.
"You do, then, acknowledge me as in command," observed Philip.
"Yes, sir, most certainly; you were second in command, but now you are
first--for the admiral is dead."
"Dead!" exclaimed Philip--"and how?"
"He was found dead on the beach, under a high cliff, and the body of the
commodore was in his arms; indeed, they were both grappled together. It
is supposed, that in his walk up to the top of the hill, which he used
to take every day, to see if any vessels might be in the Straits, he
fell in with the commodore--that they had come to contention, and had
both fallen over the precipice together. No one saw the meeting, but
they must have fallen over the rocks, as the bodies are dreadfully
mangled."
On inquiry, Philip ascertained that all chance of saving the Lion had
been lost after the second night, when she had beat in her larboard
streak, and six feet water in the hold; that the crew had been very
insubordinate, and had consumed almost all the spirits; and that not
only all the sick had already perished, but also many others who had
either fallen over the rocks, when they were intoxicated, or had been
found dead in the morning from their exposure during the night.
"Then the poor commodore's prophecy has been fulfilled!" observed Philip
to Krantz. "Many others, and even the admiral himself, have perished
with him--peace be with them! And now let us get away from this
horrible place as soon as possible."
Philip then gave orders to the officer to collect his men, and the
provisions that remained, for immediate embarkation. Krantz followed
soon after with all the boats, and before night everything was on board.
The bodies of the admiral and commodore were buried where they lay, and
the next morning the Dort was under weigh, and with a slanting wind was
laying a fair course through the Straits.