the Midway Islands. There he intends to have a sign erected stating,
briefly, our situation; to serve in case the Navy Department should
send (as we expect it will) a searching vessel for us. Twice every day
I have climbed the rope ladder on the mast and searched with anxious
eyes through my rescued opera glasses the shipless horizon; sometimes
with such a strain of nerves and hope that phantom vessels plague my
vision. The loneliness and solitude of the vast expanse of water
surrounding us is beyond expression. Truly, it is the desert of the
Pacific Ocean, and more dangerous than that upon the land, for there
are no trails or guide-posts for the weary traveler when the sky is
obscured. One might easily fancy that beyond the line of the horizon
there exists only infinite space. As the Prince of the Happy Valley
observes in "Rasselas," after an ocean voyage, "There is no variety
but the difference between rest and motion."
I do not remember the cry of "Sail ho!" during all of our cruising
between the Hawaiian and Midway Islands save in the vicinity of the
former.
The rats are more in evidence of late. At first small and timid, they
are now growing larger and bolder; running about and over us in the
tents during the night. We are getting quite accustomed to their
visits, however, and, rolling ourselves in blankets or whatever
covering we have, pay small attention to them. If we stay here,
though, our attention will become more acute; for they begin to loom
up in importance as a food supply.
The seal, on the contrary, are growing less in numbers, although great
care has been taken not to frighten them away. Also, we have not
lately attempted fishing on the reef, for fear of reducing their food.
We have been prevented from trying the eggs of the albatross, that
their nesting may continue without interruption. They will probably
leave, too, when the hatching season is over and the young have been
taught to fly.
So far as our present ration is concerned, with the exception of
beans, flour, and coffee from which our small daily issue is made, we
are situated as though no provisions had been rescued from the wreck;
for the captain has wisely ordered that all the rest must be held
intact to provision the schooner. So, with all the nerve we can
muster, the work on the schooner is being pushed. To-day the frame
stands ready for the planking, and the captain thinks that in another
week her mast can be ready for stepping.
Last Thursday we had our second most violent wind and rainstorm. It
came with hurricane force from the eastward, and the tremendous sea
crossed the reef and reached our beach with considerable energy left
in it. Our schooner that is to be, with her frame almost completed,
was perilously near the waves, and all hands were called. We turned
out in the storm and carried her bodily higher up on the beach and
breathed more at ease when we saw the seas diminish with the dying
wind.
Mr. Blye has been, to-day, our Santa Claus, and with several others I
have received a Christmas present of great value. As before noted,
there came on shore from the wreck when it was being stripped a box of
Manila cigars, and it has been supposed that they were all
distributed by the generous owner and had been smoked. To-day,
however, Mr. Blye discovered that three of them lay in the bottom of
his chest, and to be impartial he divided them into three parts each
and doled them out. My present was thankfully and cheerfully accepted,
and while I am writing my journal, is passing off in wreaths of hope
above my head.
Mr. Bailey and myself have for several days been having the joint use
of an old clay pipe he had saved, and we have been trying to smoke the
dried leaves and bark of the bushes around us. It is a failure with
me. Now much has been said by learned men _for_ as well as _against_
the use of tobacco, but I do not hesitate to testify to its great
value in conditions such as ours. It has been a cheering companion to
our thoughts in solitude, and a comfort in depression of spirits. I
have even seen one man offer his only coat for a piece of plug about
the size of a silver dollar.
_Sunday, January 1, 1871._ New Year's Day--"Happy New Year"! I think
no one but the marine sentry at the storehouse saw the birth of the
new year or cared to see the new year come in. For myself I hope there
will be no more holidays to chronicle here except it may be the one
that liberates us from these surroundings. They have--the three we
have had here--aroused too many sombre reflections in contrasting
those of the past with the present.
Talbot has now been away forty-three days and it seems almost beyond
probability that he should have reached the Sandwich Islands before
the food was exhausted. There is a lingering hope, however, that some
delay in starting relief for us may have occurred or that he may have
reached some island other than Oahu, where Honolulu is situated, and
that communication with Oahu may be limited. We are "threshing out"
the whole situation to-night in earnest discussion between the
sanguine and non-sanguine members of the mess.
VI
RESCUED
_Tuesday, January 3._ At midnight. It is near an impossibility sanely
and calmly to write up my journal to-night--my nerves are shaken and
my pencil falters. I have climbed into the storehouse to get away from
the commotion in the tent and all over the camp. No one can possibly
sleep, for I can see through a rent in the canvas men dancing around a
huge fire on the highest point of the island, and hear them cheering
and singing while feeding the fire with timbers that we have been
regarding as worth their weight in coin. To a looker-on the entire
camp would seem to have gone crazy. I will tell what I can now and the
rest some other time.
At half-past three this afternoon I was working on the schooner near
Mr. Mitchell, one of the carpenters of the contractor's party. I was
handing him a nail when I noticed his eyes steadily fixed on some
point seaward. He paid no attention to me, and his continued gaze
induced me to turn my eyes in the same direction to find what was so
attractive as to cause his ignoring me. I saw then, too, something
that held my gaze. Far off to the northeast and close to the horizon
there was something like a shadow that had not been there when I had
last visited the lookout. It appeared as a faintly outlined cloud, and
as we both watched with idle tools in our hands it seemed to grow in
size and density. Very soon he spoke in a low voice, as though not
wishing to give a false alarm: "Paymaster, I believe that is the smoke
of a steamer," and after another look, "I am sure of it"; and then
arose a shout that all could hear, "Sail ho!"
[Illustration: THE FLAGSTAFF FROM WHICH THE KILAUEA WAS SIGHTED]
[Illustration: CAMP SAGINAW ON THE DAY OF RESCUE]
The order concerning alarms was forgotten in his excitement, but as
the captain stood near and his face beamed with his own joy, no notice
was taken of the violation. He directed me at once to visit the
lookout, and I did so, rapidly securing my glasses. By the time I
reached the top of the mast I could see that the shadow we had watched
was developing into a long and well-marked line of smoke and that a
steamer was headed to the westward in front of it. I notified the
eager, inquiring crowd at the foot of the mast and still kept my
glasses trained on the steamer until her smokestack came into view.
She was not heading directly for us, and I cannot describe the anxiety
with which I watched to see if she was going to pass by,--my heart was
thumping so that one could hear it. I could not believe she would fail
to see our signal of distress that waved above me, and pass on to
leave us stricken with despair.
When she arrived at a point nearly to the north of us, I saw her
change her course until her masts were in line, and then I shouted the
fact to those below, for it was evident she was bound for Ocean
Island.
The long dreary suspense was over; our relief was near, and I slid
down the Jacob's ladder, pale and speechless. The few moments of tense
watchfulness had seemed to me like hours of suspense, and it is slight
wonder that it took some time to recover my speech. When I did so I
acquainted the captain with all I had seen. By the time I had
completed my statement the steamer was in view from the ground, and
then I witnessed such a scene as will never be forgotten.
Rough-looking men--many of them having faced the shocks of storm and
battle--all of them having passed through our recent misfortunes
without a murmur of complaint--were embracing each other with tears
of joy running down their cheeks, while laughing, singing, and
dancing.
I was at once ordered to break into our supplies and issue the best
meal to all hands that I could concoct. This I certainly did with
haste, and after our supper of boiled salt pork, flour, and beans,
finished off with a cup of coffee, I felt as I might after a Delmonico
dinner. It was a much-interrupted meal, however, for some one or more
were continually rushing out of the tent and returning to report to
the rest the movements of the steamer. By the time we had finished
supper she was very near and was recognized as the Kilauea, a vessel
belonging to the King of the Sandwich Islands. She came within half a
mile of the reef where the Saginaw was wrecked and dipped her flag and
then slowly steamed away in a southerly direction. This manoeuvre we
understood, for, as it was getting late in the day, our rescuers were
evidently intending to return to-morrow and avoid the danger of a
night near the reef. Our captain has ordered a fire to be kept in good
blazing order throughout the night as a beacon.
_Thursday, January 5._ On board the Kilauea (pronounced Kilaway) at
sea. It was next to impossible yesterday to make any entries in my
journal, and even this evening I have been compelled to ask Captain
Long for the temporary use of his stateroom, owing to the tumult in
the cabin and on deck; because I wish to record events while they are
fresh in my memory. So much excitement and so many incidents were
crowded in during the time we were rapidly collecting our effects and
embarking on the Kilauea that it is difficult to note them in order.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN LONG
Commander of the Kilauea]
The Kilauea appeared at daybreak and anchored near the west entrance
of the lagoon, and very soon after her captain came to our
landing-place in a whaleboat. I recognized in him an old Honolulu
friend,--Captain Thomas Long, a retired whaling captain, and as he
stepped from his boat, we gave him three rousing cheers while we stood
at attention near the fringe of bushes around the camp. Captain Sicard
went down the beach alone to receive him, and after a cordial
greeting, they conferred together for a few minutes. Together they
came towards us apparently in sober thought, and Captain Sicard held
up his hand as a signal for silence. He uncovered his head and said,
in a tremulous voice, "Men, I have the great sorrow to announce to you
that we have been saved at a great sacrifice. Lieutenant Talbot and
three of the gig's crew are dead. The particulars you will learn
later; at present, Captain Long is anxious for us to remove to the
Kilauea as quickly as possible." He bowed his head and a low murmur of
grief passed along our line. From a cheering, happy crowd we were as
in an instant changed to one of mourning. All the dreary waiting days
we have passed seemed to fade into insignificance in the face of this
great sorrow.
Captain Long inquired if anything was needed immediately, stating that
a generous supply of food and clothing had been rushed on board the
Kilauea in Honolulu, and that she had started to sea eight hours after
he had been notified of her mission. One of the officers told him that
the thing that would best supply a long-felt want was tobacco; so the
Kilauea's boat was at once dispatched to the steamer for a box of it,
which when opened on the beach was greedily appropriated.
I went off to the Kilauea in the first of the embarking boats, taking
the ship's safe and papers that had been stored at the head of my
mattress in the tent; therefore did not see the final disposition of
articles left on the island; but they suddenly lost all interest to me
and, beyond the fact that our water supply was labeled with a sign for
future unfortunates, I know but little. The captain tells me that
Captain Long demurred at the length of time it would take to bring off
most of the government property, saying that his duty to us and to his
vessel made it necessary to get away from this dangerous neighborhood
at the earliest possible moment; the rescue of life and not property
was his object in coming to us. So our food supply and many articles
of equipment were collected and stored at the highest point of the
island.
When I reached the Kilauea I was served with a good meal, of which I
ate sparingly; and, having deposited the safe in a near corner of the
cabin, "turned in" on a near berth, boots and all, sleeping through
all the turmoil made when the others came off. And so we sailed away
at dusk to the eastward, turning our backs on the desolate home where
we had suffered for sixty-seven days.
I have learned that a fast-sailing schooner, Kona, was dispatched on
Saturday evening under charter by the American Minister, eight hours
after the arrival of Halford. Our consul and vice-consul, with other
friends, however, prevailed upon the United States Minister, Mr.
Pierce, to accept the offer of the Kilauea by the King; urging as a
reason that there was no certainty of our being in a condition to
await the slow progress of a sailing-vessel; that there might be
sickness and even starvation in our party. The Kilauea was hastily
coaled and sailed on Monday.
(_Note._ The Kona was sighted in the offing as we were leaving Ocean
Island, and running down to her Captain Long ordered her back to
Honolulu.)
On the way to Honolulu, while sitting in the pilot house of the
Kilauea, I overheard a conversation on deck between two of the
Saginaw's men concerning the superstition connected with sailing on
Friday. "What better proof," said one of them, "would you have of its
being an unlucky day than in the case of the Saginaw? She sailed from
the Midway Islands on a Friday, and two days afterward she lay a total
wreck among the breakers of Ocean Island. The gig that went for help
also started on Friday, and what was the result? Four out of the five
brave boys who manned her came to an untimely end--how Halford escaped
is a mystery to me; but I guess he'll think twice before venturing on
another voyage on that day of the week." I said to myself that I would
think twice, too, unless I was starting under orders.
VII
THE FATE OF THE GIG
_Honolulu, January 28, 1871._ Perhaps some reader may deem the story
of the Saginaw's last cruise complete. I cannot, however, consider it
so while lacking the sorrowful story of our comrades' voyage in the
gig, with its fatal ending as told by Halford, the sole survivor. Nor
would it be less than ingratitude to pass unnoticed the fact of our
hearty reception when we arrived here on the fourteenth, well fed and
well clothed through the generous exertions of our friends. The King,
his Cabinet, and most of the population were on the wharves as the
Kilauea steamed into the harbor. The cheers and hat-waving were but
the prelude to a most cordial and affectionate greeting when we landed
in the midst of the throng. Several of the officers were at once
seized upon and taken to the homes of their old-time friends. When I
could elude the crowd I was whisked away in a carriage to the Nuuanu
Valley home of Mr. John Paty, and there rested in luxury and comfort
until to-day, when we are to sail on the steamer Moses Taylor. In
recognition of his great kindness as well as to illustrate the
comfortable style of the island homes, I insert a picture of Mr.
Paty's bungalow.
On Thursday our captain and several officers were received in audience
by the King, and in acknowledgment of the great kindness shown us, the
following address was presented.
Our captain said:--
In behalf of the rear admiral commanding the Pacific fleet, I
desire to thank your Majesty for the most courteous offer of the
steamer Kilauea to go to the assistance of the shipwrecked crew
of the United States Ship Saginaw on Ocean Island. It was a
most welcome and opportune relief to the company of United
States officers and seamen there in distress; a proof of your
Majesty's friendly feeling toward our Navy. I am sure your
Majesty's kind and humane intentions were most efficiently
carried out by the very capable and intelligent officer with his
officers and crew sent in command of the Kilauea. I must ask
your Majesty, also, to accept my thanks and those of my officers
and men for the sympathy shown us in our probable distress; for
the personal interest taken by you in the speedy dispatch of the
Kilauea. Your Majesty's Minister of the Interior, also,
manifested the strongest interest in our relief; to his
energetic and efficient efforts was it due that your intentions
were so promptly carried into effect.
At Ocean Island we recognized your Majesty's ship as soon as she
appeared on the horizon. Our feelings of gratitude may perhaps
be imagined, but can only be thoroughly appreciated by those who
have been placed in a similar situation. On our arrival in port
we were welcomed with the most warm-hearted cordiality, and
since have received abundant proofs of the kind feelings of
the Hawaiian people.
One officer and four men belonging to my vessel bravely and
generously volunteered on a long sea voyage in a small boat for
the relief of their shipmates. These finally, with one
exception, made sacrifice of their lives upon the shores of the
island of Kauai. Your Majesty's subjects on that island received
the survivor of the boat's crew with great kindness and
hospitality. They were most solicitous to recover the remains of
my officer and his men, and to inter them in a suitable and
Christian manner. I desire again to return thanks for all that
has been done for the Saginaw's officers and crew.
[Illustration: MR. JOHN PATY'S BUNGALOW AT HONOLULU]
His Majesty replied to the captain as follows:--
Captain--I am pleased to see you here to-day and congratulate
you and the officers and crew of the late United States Ship
Saginaw upon the delivery from their unpleasant position upon a
desolate island. I am glad that my Government has been enabled
to render you assistance. The officers of your Service in this
ocean have always shown themselves prompt to go to the
assistance of distressed men of all nations, and I have lately
had a proof of their prompt humanity in the offer of Captain
Truxton, of the ship Jamestown, to assist some of my subjects in
the Micronesian Islands, and in the efficient aid which he
rendered them. Such interchanges tend to promote personal and
national friendship.
I sympathize with you, Captain, for the loss of your ship--a
misfortune always keenly felt by a sensitive officer, however
unavoidable it may have been. I sympathize with you for the loss
of the gallant officer and men who, after a long voyage in an
open boat, met their death on the shores of Kauai. Such examples
of devotion to duty are a rich legacy to all men. Permit me,
Captain, to express a hope that you and your officers who have
shared with you your service in this ocean for some time past
and your peril in the late shipwreck may live to attain the
highest honors in your profession.
On Saturday last there was held a sale by a local auctioneer of such
articles belonging to the Navy Department as we were able to bring
away from Ocean Island. Among them was included the gig which Halford
brought from the island of Kauai. We were surprised to learn later
that the boat had been bid in by a syndicate of our friends for
presentation to us as a souvenir. It has been accepted and we are
considering plans for its future preservation. I went down to the dock
yesterday to see it prepared for shipment, and its sad story was
almost told in the scars upon it. Its bow was bound with iron straps
and a large gap in the starboard side was covered with canvas. Its
wounds seemed almost as making a mute appeal for sympathy, and
expressed the struggle it had gone through.
_Halford's Story_
When we left Ocean Island, November 18th, we ran to the north to
latitude 32 deg., there took the westerly winds and ran east to, as Mr.
Talbot supposed, the longitude of Kauai (Kowee), but it proved
ultimately that we were not within a degree of that longitude. We then
stood south. Five days out we lost all light and fire and had no means
of making either--no dry tinder or wood, although we had flint and
steel. About five or six days before making Kauai we succeeded in
getting a light with a glass taken from an opera glass. We suffered
much from wet, cold, and want of food. The ten days' ration of bread
in a canvas bag was mostly spoiled; the two tins of cooked beans could
not be eaten, causing dysentery, as did also the boiled wheat; the
gallon of molasses leaked out, and the sugar, tea, and coffee were
spoiled by wetting. To the dessicated potato, five five-pound tins of
which were given us at the last moment before sailing, we attributed
the preservation of our lives from starvation. For the last week it
was all we had, mixed with a little fresh water.
[Illustration: STARBOARD SIDE OF THE GIG AFTER HER EVENTFUL
JOURNEY]
[Illustration: DECK VIEW OF THE GIG AFTER HER EVENTFUL JOURNEY]
We had heavy weather while running to the eastward; hove to with the
sea anchor twice, the last time lost it. We then made another drag
from three oars, which was also lost. Then we made still another from
two oars and a square of sail by crossing them. That lasted for three
turns of bad weather; but the third time it broke adrift and all was
lost.
Mr. Talbot was ill with diarrhoea for seven or eight days, but got
better, although he continued to suffer much from fatigue and
hardship. He was somewhat cheerful the whole passage. Muir and Andrews
were sick for two or three weeks. Francis was always well.
We did not make land within a week of what we expected. The first land
we saw was Kawaihua Rock, at the southern end of Niihau (Neehow)
Island, on Friday morning, December 16th. We stood north by east, with
the island in sight all day. During that night and Saturday stood
northeast by north, and on Saturday night headed east and south
southeast.