the approach in the little whale-boat was descried by those on the
rock; all uttered an exclamation of joy, and in return the surprise of
the coxswain and his crew to find so many of their shipmates still
surviving is not to be described. But the surf ran so high as to
endanger the safety of the boat, and several of the people imprudently
endeavored to get into it. The coxswain tried to persuade Captain
Palmer to come to him, but he steadily refused, saying, "No, Smith,
save your unfortunate shipmates, never mind me."--After some little
consultation, he desired him to take the Greek pilot on board, and
make the best of his way to Cerigotto, where the pilot said there were
some families of fishermen, who doubtless would relieve their
necessities.
But it appeared as if Heaven had ordained the destruction of this
unfortunate crew, for, soon after the boat departed, the wind began to
increase, and dark clouds gathering around, excited among those
remaining behind all their apprehensions for a frightful storm. In a
about two hours it commenced with the greatest fury; the waves rose
considerably, and soon destroyed the fire. They nearly covered the
rock, and compelled the men to fly to the highest part for refuge,
which was the only one that could afford any shelter. There nearly
ninety people passed a night of the greatest horrors; and the only
means of preventing themselves from being swept away by the surf,
which every moment broke over them, was by a small rope fastened round
the summit of the rock, and with difficulty holding on by each other.
The fatigues which the people had previously undergone, added to what
they now endured, proved too overpowering to many of their number;
several became delirious; their strength was exhausted, and they could
hold on no longer. Their afflictions were still further aggravated by
an apprehension that the wind, veering more to the north, would raise
the sea to their present situation, in which case a single wave would
have swept them all into oblivion.
The hardships which the crew had already suffered were sufficient to
terminate existence, and many had met with deplorable accidents. One
in particular, while crossing the channel between the rocks at an
unsuitable time, was dashed against them so as to be nearly scalped,
and exhibited a dreadful spectacle to his companions. He lingered out
the night, and next morning expired. The more fortunate survivors were
but ill prepared to meet the terrible effects of famine; their
strength enfeebled, their bodies unsheltered and abandoned by hope.
Nor were they less alarmed for the fate of their boat. The storm came
on before she could have reached the intended island, and on her
safety their own depended. But the scene which daylight presented was
still more deplorable. The survivors beheld the corpses of their
departed shipmates, and some still in the agonies of death. They were
themselves altogether exhausted, from the sea all night breaking over
them, and the inclemency of the weather, which was such, that many,
among whom was the carpenter, perished from excessive cold.
But this unfortunate crew had now to suffer a mortification, and to
witness an instance of inhumanity, which leaves an eternal stain of
infamy on those who merit the reproach.--Soon after day broke, they
observed a vessel with all sail set, coming down before the wind,
steering directly for the rock. They made every possible signal of
distress which their feeble condition admitted, nor without effect,
for they were at last seen by the vessel, which bore to and hoisted
out her boat. The joy which this occasioned may be easily conceived,
for nothing short of immediate relief was anticipated; and they
hastily made preparation for rafts to carry them through the surf,
confident that the boat was provided with whatever might administer to
their necessities. Approaching still nearer, she came within
pistol-shot, full of men dressed in the European fashion, who after
having gazed at them a few minutes, the person who steered, waved his
hat to them and then rowed off to his ship. The pain of the
shipwrecked people at this barbarous proceeding was acute, and
heightened even more by beholding the stranger vessel employed the
whole day in taking up the floating remains of that less fortunate one
which had so lately borne them.
Perhaps the abandoned wretches guilty of so unfeeling an act may one
day be disclosed, and it would surely excite little compassion to
learn that they suffered that retribution which such inhuman conduct
merits. That people dressed in the habit of Englishmen, though
belonging to a different nation, could take advantage of misery
instead of relieving it, will scarce seem creditable at the present
day, were not some instances of a similar nature related elsewhere
than in these volumes.
After this cruel disappointment, and bestowing an anathema which the
barbarity of the strangers deserved, the thoughts of the people were,
during the remainder of the day, directed towards the return of the
boat; and being disappointed there also, their dread that she had been
lost was only further confirmed. They began to yield to despondency,
and had the gloomy prospect of certain death before them. Thirst then
became intolerable; and in spite of being warned against it by
instances of the terrific effects ensuing, some in desperation
resorted to salt water. Their companions had soon the grief of
learning what they would experience by following their example; in a
few hours raging madness followed, and nature could struggle no
longer.
Another awful night was to be passed, yet the weather being
considerably more moderate, the sufferers entertained hopes that it
would be less disastrous than the one preceding; and to preserve
themselves from the cold, they crowded close together and covered
themselves with their few remaining rags. But the ravings of their
comrades who had drank salt water were truly horrible; all endeavors
to quiet them were ineffectual, and the power of sleep lost its
influence. In the middle of the night they were unexpectedly hailed by
the crew of the whale-boat; but the only object of the people on the
rock was water; they cried out to their shipmates for it, though in
vain. Earthen vessels only could have been procured, and these would
not bear being conveyed through the surf. The coxswain then said they
should be taken off the rock by a fishing vessel in the morning, and
with this assurance they were forced to be content. It was some
consolation to know that the boat was safe, and that relief had so far
been obtained.
All the people anxiously expected morning, and, for the first time
since being on the rock, the sun cheered them with its rays. Still the
fourth morning came and no tidings either of the boat or vessel. The
anxiety of the people increased, for inevitable death from famine, was
staring them in the face. What were they to do for self-preservation?
The misery and hunger which they endured, were extreme; they were not
ignorant of the means whereby other unfortunate mariners in the like
situation had protracted life, yet they viewed them with disgust.
Still when they had no alternative, they considered their urgent
necessities and found them affording some excuse. Offering prayers to
Heaven for forgiveness of the sinful act, they selected a young man
who had died the preceding night, and ventured to appease their hunger
with human flesh.
Whether the people were relieved is uncertain, for towards evening
death had made hasty strides among them, and many brave men drooped
under their hardships. Among these were the captain and first
lieutenant, two meritorious officers: and the sullen silence now
preserved by the survivors, shewed the state of their internal
feelings. Captain Palmer was in the 26th year of his age; amidst his
endeavors to comfort those under his command, his companions in
misfortune, his personal injuries were borne with patience and
resignation, and no murmurs escaped his lips; his virtuous life was
prematurely closed by the overwhelming severities of the lamentable
catastrophe he had shared.
During the course of another tedious night, many suggested the
possibility of constructing a raft which might carry the survivors to
Cerigotto; and the wind being favorable, might enable them to reach
that island. At all events, attempting this seemed preferable to
remaining on the rock to expire of hunger and thirst. Accordingly, at
daylight they prepared to put their plan in execution. A number of the
larger spars were lashed together, and sanguine hopes of success
entertained. At length the moment of launching the raft arrived, but
it was only to distress the people with new disappointments, for a few
moments sufficed for the destruction of a work on which the strongest
of the party had been occupied hours. Several from this unexpected
failure became still more desperate, and five resolved to trust
themselves on a few small spars slightly lashed together, and on which
they had scarce room to stand. Bidding their companions adieu, they
launched out into the sea, where they were speedily carried away by
unknown currents, and vanished forever from sight.
Towards the same afternoon, the people were again rejoiced by the
sight of the whale-boat, and the coxswain told them that he had
experienced great difficulty in prevailing on the Greek fishermen of
Cerigotto to venture in their boats, from dread of the weather.
Neither would they permit him to take them unaccompanied by
themselves; he regretted what his comrades had endured, and his grief
at not being able yet to relieve them, but encouraged them with hopes,
if the weather remained fine, that next day the boats might come.
While the coxswain spoke this, twelve or fourteen men imprudently
plunged from the rock into the sea, and very nearly reached the boat.
Two indeed, got so far as to be taken in, one was drowned and the rest
providentially recovered their former station. Those who thus escaped
could not but be envied by their companions, while they reproached the
indiscretion of the others, who, had they reached the boat, would
without all doubt have sunk her, and thus unwittingly consigned the
whole to irremediable destruction.
The people were wholly occupied in reflections on the passing
incidents; but their weakness increased as the day elapsed; one of the
survivors describes himself as feeling the approach of annihilation,
that his sight failed, and his senses became confused; that his
strength was exhausted, and his eyes turned towards the setting sun,
under the conviction that he should never see it rise again. Yet on
the morning he survived, and he was surprised that Providence willed
it should still be so, as several strong men had fallen in the course
of the night. While the remainder were contemplating their forlorn
condition, and judging this the last day of their lives, the approach
of the boats was unexpectedly announced.--From the lowest ebb of
despair, they were now elated with the most extravagant joy; and
copious draughts of water, quickly landed, refreshed their languid
bodies. Never before did they know the blessings which the single
possession of water could afford; it tasted more delicious than the
finest wines.
Anxious preparations were made for immediate departure from a place,
which had been fatal to so many unhappy sufferers. Of one hundred and
twenty-two persons on board the Nautilus when she struck, fifty-eight
had perished. Eighteen were drowned, it was supposed, at the moment
of the catastrophe, and one in attempting to reach the boat, five were
lost on the small raft, and thirty-four died of famine. About fifty
now embarked in four fishing vessels, and landed the same evening at
the island of Cerigotto, making altogether sixty-four individuals,
including those who escaped in the whale-boat. Six days had been
passed on the rock, nor had the people, during that time, received any
assistance, excepting from the human flesh of which they had
participated.
The survivors landed at a small creek in the island of Cerigotto,
after which they had to go to a considerable distance before reaching
the dwellings of their friends. Their first care was to send for the
master's mate, who had escaped to the island of Pori, and had been
left behind when the whale-boat came down to the rock. He and his
companions had exhausted all the fresh water, but lived on the sheep
and goats, which they caught among the rocks, and had drank their
blood. There they had remained in a state of great uncertainty
concerning the fate of those who had left them in the boat.
Though the Greeks could not aid the seamen in the care of their
wounds, they treated them with great care and hospitality; but medical
assistance being important, from the pain the sufferers endured, and
having nothing to bind up their wounds but shirts which they tore into
bandages, they were eager to reach Cerigo. The island of Cerigotto,
where they had landed, was a dependency on the other, about fifteen
miles long, ten broad, and of a barren and unproductive soil, with
little cultivation. Twelve or fourteen families of Greek fishermen
dwelt upon it, as the pilot had said, who were in a state of extreme
poverty. Their houses, or rather huts, consisting of one or two rooms
on the same floor, were, in general, built against the side of a rock;
the walls composed of clay and straw, and the roof supported by a tree
in the centre of the dwelling. Their food was a coarse kind of bread,
formed of boiled pease and flour, which was made into a kind of paste
for the strangers, with once or twice a bit of kid; and that was all
which they could expect from their deliverers. But they made a liquor
from corn, which having an agreeable flavour, and being a strong
spirit, was drank with avidity by the sailors.
Cerigo was about twenty-five miles distant, and there, it was also
said, an English consul resided. Eleven days elapsed, however, before
the crew could leave Cerigotto, from the difficulty of persuading the
Greeks to adventure to sea, in their frail barks, during tempestuous
weather. The wind at last proving fair, with a smooth sea, they bade a
grateful adieu to the families of their deliverers, who were tenderly
affected by their distresses, and shed tears of regret when they
departed. In six or eight hours, they reached Cerigo, where they were
received with open arms. Immediately on arrival, they were met by the
English vice-consul, Signor Manuel Caluci, a native of the island, who
devoted his house, bed, credit and whole attention to their service;
and the survivors unite in declaring their inability to express the
obligations under which he laid them. The governor, commandant, bishop
and principal people, all shewed equal hospitality, care and
friendship, and exerted themselves to render the time agreeable;
insomuch that it was with no little regret that these shipwrecked
mariners thought of forsaking the island.
After the people had remained three weeks at Cerigo, they learnt that
a Russian ship of war lay at anchor off the Morea about twelve leagues
distant, being driven in by bad weather, and immediately sent letters
to her commanding officer, narrating their misfortunes and soliciting
a passage to Corfu.--The master of the Nautilus determining to make
the most of the opportunity, took a boat to reach the Russian vessel;
but he was at first so unfortunate as to be blown on the rocks in a
heavy gale of wind, where he nearly perished, and the boat was staved
in pieces. However, he luckily got to the ship, and after some
difficulty, succeeded in procuring the desired passage for himself and
his companions to Corfu. Her commander, to accommodate them, came down
to Cerigo, and anchored at a small port called St. Nicholas, at the
eastern extremity of the island. The English embarked on the 5th, but,
owing to contrary winds, did not sail until the 15th of February, when
they bade farewell to their friends. They next touched at Zante,
another small island, abounding in currants and olives, the oil from
the latter of which constitutes the chief riches of the people. After
remaining there four days, they sailed for Corfu, where they arrived
on the 2d of March 1807, nearly two months after the date of their
shipwreck.
WRECK OF A SLAVE SHIP.
The following extract of a letter from Philadelphia, dated November
11th, 1762, gives an account of the melancholy disaster that befel the
Phoenix, Capt. M'Gacher, in lat. 37 deg. N. and lon. 72 deg. W. from
London, bound to Potomac, in Maryland, from the coast of Africa, with
332 slaves on board.
"On Wednesday the 20th of October 1762, at six o'clock in the evening,
came on a most violent gale of wind at south, with thunder and
lightning, the sea running very high, when the ship sprung a leak, and
we were obliged to lie-to under bare poles, the water gained on us
with both pumps constantly working. 10 P. M. endeavored to put the
ship before the wind to no purpose. At twelve the sand ballast having
choked our pumps, and there being seven feet water in the hold, all
the casks afloat, and the ballast shifted to leeward, cut away the
rigging of the main and mizen masts, both of which went instantly
close by the deck, and immediately after the foremast was carried away
about twenty feet above. Hove overboard all our guns, upon which the
ship righted a little. We were then under a necessity of letting all
our slaves out of irons, to assist in pumping and baling.
"Thursday morning being moderate, having gained about three feet on
the ship, we found every cask in the hold stove to pieces, so that we
only saved a barrel of flour, 10 lbs. of bread, twenty-five gallons of
wine, beer, and shrub, and twenty-five gallons of spirits. The seamen
and slaves were employed all this day in pumping and baling; the pumps
were frequently choked, and brought up great quantities of sand. We
were obliged to hoist one of the pumps up, and put it down the quarter
deck hatchway. A ship this day bore down upon us, and, though very
near, and we making every signal of distress, she would not speak to
us.
"On Friday, the men slaves being very sullen and unruly, having had no
sustenance of any kind for forty-eight hours, except a dram, we put
one half of the strongest of them in irons.
"On Saturday and Sunday, all hands night and day could scarce keep
the ship clear, and were constantly under arms.
"On Monday morning, many of the slaves had got out of irons, and were
attempting to break up the gratings; and the seamen not daring to go
down in the hold to clear the pumps, we were obliged, for the
preservation of our own lives, to kill fifty of the ringleaders and
stoutest of them.
"It is impossible to describe the misery the poor slaves underwent,
having had no fresh water for five days. Their dismal cries and
shrieks, and most frightful looks, added a great deal to our
misfortunes; four of them were found dead, and one drowned herself in
the hold. This evening the water gained on us, and three seamen
dropped down with fatigue and thirst, which could not be quenched,
though wine, rum, and shrub were given them alternately. On Thursday
morning the ship had gained, during the night, above a foot of water,
and the seamen quite worn out, and many of them in despair. About ten
in the forenoon we saw a sail; about two she discovered us, and bore
down; at five spoke to us, being the King George, of Londonderry,
James Mackay, master; he immediately promised to take us on board, and
hoisted out his yawl, it then blowing very fresh. The gale increasing,
prevented him from saving any thing but the white people's lives, not
even any of our clothes, or one slave, the boat being scarcely able to
live in the sea the last trip she made. Capt. Mackay and some
gentlemen, passengers he had on board, treated us with kindness and
humanity."
THE WRECKED SEAMEN.
The annexed thrilling sketch is extracted from the "Life of a Sailor,
by a Captain in the British Navy." It relates to the exposures of the
crew of the Magpie, who had taken to the boat, after their shipwreck
on the coast of Cuba. The boat was upset,--the storm continues:--