ANOTHER TERRIBLE STORM--LOSS OF THE "YELLOW BOY"--A KETCH
WRECKED--I RESCUE A MAN FROM THE SEA, BADLY INJURED--HE RECOVERS.
February went out angrily, a heavy sea and a high wind being constant
companions, but if February was wild the opening days of March were
worse; it blew great guns and was cold also, and was decidedly
unpleasant.
Beside the weather being unpleasant it was also a source of anxiety to
me, for I had drawn the "Yellow Boy" upon a ledge of the Fauconnaire,
above high water-mark; but now that the sea was in such a terrible rage,
I was afraid it should dash over the ledge and dislodge her. If it did,
nothing could save her. I could go over to her at low water, but could
not draw her up higher, as the great rocks shelved out over her to the
height of forty or fifty feet, and I had no tackling strong enough to
raise her bodily to that awkward altitude; so I hoped and hoped on, but
on the 4th of March matters came to a climax.
The sun rose red and angry, the wind blew in great jerks and booms that
staggered me as I walked along the perilously narrow paths. Just before
high tide I walked along the lower path which, although fifty feet above
the sea, was soaked with salt spray from the roaring coamers breaking
below. The wind was so laden with spray that it was difficult to face it
while staggering along the rugged cliff path; but presently I arrived at
the point opposite the "Yellow Boy," and was glad to see her still
there, although she was sadly buffeted by the waves, which continually
leapt up to lick her off her granite cradle.
I had secured her with ropes as well as I could, and had even taken an
anchor (attached to her mooring rope) some fifty feet up on a grassy
ledge above, and there securely fixed it into the short turf, with which
the first plateau of rocks were covered.
[Illustration: "ALONG THE RUGGED CLIFF PATH."]
I sat down in my oilskins in the shelter of a rock to watch my precious
boat, but I could see that her doom was sealed if the wind did not drop;
but that it did not do, for as the tide rose, so did the wind, till it
fairly howled among the rocks and tore through the trees in an awful
rage, so that presently the ropes which bound the "Yellow Boy" gave way,
as she was now very heavy, being level full of water. She only hung by
the anchor rope now, like a man being hanged, and every wave that rose
and broke in and around her, swung her from side to side, or spun her
round till she gradually banged herself to pieces against the cruel
granite walls. Then the tide gradually went down, and left the mere
dangling skeleton of my once beloved craft, hanging high and dry above
the send of the foaming waves, which at intervals rushed among the now
exposed rocks. The anchor held, and to the rope hung the two upper
strakes, to which were attached the two fore compartments; all the rest
was completely swept away, and with it my hope of again being able to
take the sea for fishing, shooting, or sailing purposes. Alas! poor
"Yellow Boy," I shall never see your like again! (neither probably will
anyone else!) She answered my purpose admirably, but as a model of naval
construction she was an absolute monstrosity, and would have made an
object of great interest in a naval exhibition. I deeply regretted her
loss, as I wanted to take her home as a great curiosity to open the eyes
of the Yarmouth fishermen; but it was not to be, and I turned sadly
away; my chief occupation (that of boating) being completely gone.
As I stood once more on the Cotills I saw two small vessels making for
the Little Russel, or "Petit Ruan," as the Channel between Guernsey and
Herm is called. They were labouring heavily, with very little canvas
set, and evidently trying to gain the shelter of the islands, and if
possible make for St. Peter's or St. Sampson's Harbour. Along they came,
struggling and creeping closer, fathom by fathom, till just as the
foremost was passing La Fauconnaire, her foremast snapped short off by
the deck. In a moment she broached too, driving gradually broadside on
to Jethou. The other finding she could not run into port, ran off
towards Jersey where she might get better shelter, if it were not
altogether a case of leaping out of the frying-pan into the fire, as the
Jersey rocks are quite as hard and sharp as ours. At any rate in half an
hour she was lost to sight.
The one which was now so helplessly driving towards where I stood was a
trim little trading ketch of some fifty tons burthen, and from my
elevated position I could see everything that took place on her deck. I
saw the men (there were three men and a boy) cast out two anchors which
appeared to hold her, then they commenced to cut away the mast and gear,
which had fallen overboard and was thumping her sides so continuously as
to cause grave apprehension of her being stove in. Having done this they
rigged the pump, and at it they went with vigour. All their activity was
required, as every wave that broke over her must have penetrated her
seams, which were doubtless opened by the buffeting she had received.
But alas! their noble efforts were all in vain, for with a snap, snap,
which I could distinctly hear, her cables both broke, and she drifted
quickly towards the shore. Seeing this, and thinking I might possibly be
of some service, I ran down to a little wooden shelter I had built at
the side of the Cotills, and procured a coil of thin rope, and slinging
it over my shoulder I hurried back with it to the scene of what would
probably be in a few minutes, a wreck.
When I got back, having only been absent three or four minutes, I saw
that the crew had given up all hope of saving their vessel, and were now
only intent on saving their lives. To this end they were getting their
only boat out, lowering it safely on the lee side with two of the men
and the boy in it; the third man, who appeared to be the skipper, would
not leave the vessel, so the boat pushed off, but had not moved ten
fathoms away when a tremendous sea curled up under its stern, and
turned the boat a complete somersault, shooting the three occupants out
into the water. They could none of them swim apparently, and in a few
seconds disappeared beneath the turbulent waves; at least I did not see
them again, so that doubtless they found a watery grave.
The last man evidently saw his danger, but was quite calm, although his
end seemed near, as only about two hundred yards now intervened between
the vessel and the rocky shore. He proceeded to lash a spar across the
two water barrels, which he emptied and bunged up, and then stood ready
to jump overboard with them, when the vessel struck. I also was on the
alert with my coil of rope, following the vessel as she drifted slowly
along the shore, till she neared a spur of cliff, which runs out near
the watch-house, close to the homestead, and here she came in full
contact with a mass of rock which shook her, crushed in her stem, and
made her recoil. The next wave threw her back again, but luckily more
steadily, so that I was enabled to throw my coil of rope down upon her
deck from my coign of vantage. I quickly whipped the shore end round the
stem of a huge furze bush, which grew within ten feet of the brink of
the cliff, and to my joy found that the man had seized the end which I
had thrown towards him. He stood amidship, being afraid to venture too
close to the bows, as the next wave would doubtless ram the ship hard
against the rocks again, and if he jumped now, he would simply be
smashed to pieces between the rocks and the vessel.
He waited, holding on to the coamings of the hatchway, which had been
burst open, till the little ketch gave another tremendous leap upon the
cruel rocks, and then as she recoiled he sprang to his feet, threw over
his barrel life preserver, and without hesitation leaped overboard with
the rope round his chest just beneath his arms. He swam, and I hauled,
and as he mounted the next wave I slackened, or he might have been
dashed to pieces, then on the wave breaking and running back, I hauled
with all my might, and in a short time had him safe in my arms, and bore
him amid the dashing spray and foam safely beyond danger. He was just
able to stand, and that was all, for directly I had half dragged and
half carried him up the cliffs to a grassy spot, he fell backwards
insensible. He could not have been in the sea more than two minutes, yet
he was terribly cut about, his hands being covered with blood; some of
his fingers were cut to the bone. This was done when the first wave
threw him against the rocks, when all depended upon his being able to
hold on against the receding water. He did in his despair hold on, as he
afterwards described it, "like a limpet," and thus though terribly
battered he was saved, the sole survivor of his little crew.
When he came to, I assisted him up to the house, where I gave him some
hot grog and more solid refreshment, and then prepared him a warm bath.
Poor fellow! his legs made me shudder to look at them, so cruelly had
the rocks torn and lacerated them from the knee downward. Yet in his
terrible state the brave fellow was quite beside himself with joy at his
miraculous escape, while the next minute the hot tears would gush from
his eyes at the thought of his poor messmates, who had sailed their last
voyage, and were now floating about to be devoured by the huge congers,
crabs, and lobsters, which are so numerous in these deep seas.
A long night's rest greatly restored my guest, who had come to me _à la_
Friday in "Robinson Crusoe;" in fact, I felt an almost irresistible
longing to call him Friday, and introduce myself to him as R. Crusoe,
Esq.; but when I looked at his pale face and hands swathed in huge
bandages, I concluded it to be an ill time for any joking. After a day
or two's rest and unceasing attention to his wounds on my part, I was
pleased to find him greatly improved both in body and spirits, and
therefore felt that I might ask him a little about himself. What
information he gave me I will here epitomise.
He was by name Alexander Ducas, a son of France, his native village
being situate on the Bay of Avranches, facing Jersey. He was about my
own age, but had seen more ups and downs than most men of double his
years. He had been in the French navy; had been mate of several vessels;
had also taken charge of several English yachts; had been skipper of two
or three small trading vessels, and finally had become owner and skipper
of the little ketch which had met with such a disastrous end a few days
before. This was not the first nor the second time he had narrowly
escaped death by drowning; but as he afterwards told me, "he thought he
had done with the _surface_ of the water," and probably had I not
opportunely been on the spot, he would have shared the fate of his
poor crew, none of whose bodies were ever seen again.
[Illustration: RESCUE OF ALEC DUCAS.]
"Why did you throw overboard your water barrel life preserver; before
you clutched my rope," I asked him.
"A double chance," he replied, "for if the rope business had failed, I
might still have secured the aid of the barrels to support me. A poor
chance I allow, but a _chance_ nevertheless."
He was of medium height, fair, with sandy moustache, compactly knit, and
of surprising strength for a man of his inches. I afterwards found that
he was possessed with more than an ordinary amount of physical
endurance, for no matter how much work he crowded into a long summer's
day, he was always as blithe as a cricket when work was over, and we sat
by the old cannon to smoke an evening pipe and chat together about our
plans and prospects.
Strange to say, he knew the man I buried at sea some months before, in
fact, had sailed with him on one vessel for several months, and he
moreover gave him a very bad character. It appears that he was a most
desperate fellow, having been in prison on several occasions for violent
conduct, and was noted for his brutal language and bad behaviour. He had
been turned out of the French navy for insubordination, and while on the
frigate was a perfect terror to his messmates. He was noted as the
strongest man of the three hundred who formed her crew, and as Ducas
said, "There won't be enough tears shed over his death by the friends
who knew him to wet a postage stamp!"
What a lucky thing for me this man did not become _my_ comrade.
By the end of a week Ducas, or as I more familiarly called him Alec, was
able to take short walks, and the more he saw of the island the better
he liked it, and finally asked to be allowed to stay with me, and
cultivate the land, and render what service he could in other ways.
I was in a quandary to know how to answer him, as I did not know how it
would affect my agreement with Young Johnson "to stay on the island for
six months longer." I therefore told Alec I would let him know my
decision in four days from then, giving myself that time to turn the
matter over in my mind.
So far as the agreement with my father went that was concluded, as my
twelve months had already expired; but what I was puzzled about was how
I should stand with Johnson. It seemed to me that he expected me to
remain _alone_ on the island for the specified time--six months--but
what was I to do now man Friday had arrived? I puzzled over the matter a
long time, and then came to the conclusion that win or lose I would stay
on the island another summer, and whether I transgressed the contract or
not, I would retain Ducas, as it would be very pleasant to have a
companion, and if I was by so doing breaking the contract, must abide by
the consequences.
I next interviewed Alec Ducas, and found that between his sea
engagements he had assisted in gardening and the usual routine of farm
work, beside which, being a thorough seaman, he could make his own
clothes and boots, consequently mine; in fact, could turn his hand to
anything, as only a sailor can.
"Well, Ducas, I am going to stay here for another six months; you have
seen the resources of the house and island, and can judge best, if you
think you would rather stay here than go over to St. Peter Port in
prospect of getting another vessel. What do you say, would you rather go
or stay?"
To this he made reply, his face beaming with delight,
"Well, sir, I have not much of a mind to make up, but if you will allow
me to stay and help you, nothing will give me greater pleasure; in fact,
such a life is the one I crave. There is liberty for a man here, and
plenty of work to be done, and I have ample health and strength to do
it, so if you will say 'Yes,' I will take up my quarters with you."
He spoke very good English, but with a decidedly foreign accent (which
sounded very pleasant to me, more so as he had a very musical voice),
and was a plain spoken man, one who called a spade a spade, and made no
nonsense about it.
"Very well, Alec," said I; "then you stay, and I trust we may get along
happily together."
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