Push forward for the Society Islands. Driven into Magellan Straits
by stress of weather. Anchor in a land-locked bay. Search for fresh
water. Attacked by savages. Serious injuries to Capt. Davis and one
of the crew. Return to the schooner and make sail for the open ocean.
Resolve to return to England. Finally lay our course for Easter Island.
We had proceeded but a very short way towards the Society Islands when
a terrific storm arose from the westward, driving us back upon the
coast of South America. We lay to for many days, bending down before
the blast, and drifting all the time rapidly to the southward and
eastward; till one morning we discovered land broad off our lee beam,
and, by a forenoon observation which the captain obtained, we found
that we were off the western opening of the Straits of Magellan, and
we soon put the schooner's head before the howling blast and ran in
for shelter, rest, and repairs. We came up with the land very rapidly
under easy sail, and passed the frowning cliffs and rocks on our port
hand, not over a mile distant, as we knew we had plenty of water and
to spare. After having passed the opening we hauled the schooner up
on the port tack, heading her well up to the northward, intending to
find some quiet land-locked cove where we could anchor and repair the
damages--small in detail, but quite grave in the aggregate--that we
had received in our buffeting of the last ten days.
About eight bells in the forenoon we found ourselves well inside the
land, and with a smooth sea and a good fair working breeze, we kept the
land well on the port beam and gradually crawled in toward it.
At about 4 P. M. we estimated that we were twenty miles inside the
headlands, and having come to an arm of a bay trending well to the
northward, we hauled the schooner sharp on a wind and steered into it;
we discovered soon that it was about ten miles deep and thirty wide as
near as we could judge; and as we came toward the head of the bay we
found that we could run into a small inner bay of about three miles in
area, with evidently smooth water and good anchorage. Into this inner
bay or anchorage we quietly sailed and let go an anchor in six fathoms
of water, and at a distance of about one mile from the shore.
When the sails were all properly furled, and everything put in
"ship-shape and Bristol fashion," as the saying is amongst sailors, we
had time to look about us; and the motion of the vessel having ceased,
and the creaking of the masts and cordage, the flapping of the sails,
and the usual noises of the sea, having come to an end, we were struck
with the awful and sublime solitude of our surroundings. By this time
the moon had risen, and by its light we saw the shadowy shapes of
monstrous cliffs and miniature headlands covered with tangled forests
of a species of pine, mirrored in the little bay in which we hung at
anchor; but not one sound of life, no lights on shore, no cry of bird
or beast, but the depressing, awful solitude of an unknown land; no
noise except the graceful rise of the "Good Luck" to the miniature
waves of the bay as she lay at anchor with twenty fathoms of chain out.
We all spoke in whispers, so awe-striking was the scenery, and when we
set the anchor watch and turned in it was unanimously conceded that we
had little to fear in landing on the morrow either from natives or wild
beasts.
Glad enough were we, after our long fight with the stormy ocean, to
turn into our berths. It was chilly, although now past the middle of
October, yet we saw no snow upon the ground, and the air had the smell
of spring and verdure. This was easily accounted for when we remembered
that in reality we were in the latter part of April as to seasons, and
that we were no further south, than Great Britain is north, as concerns
latitude. No doubt, also, the climate was favorably affected by this
great arm of salt water penetrating the land. At any rate we had
nothing to complain of on the score of ice and snow, which we should
have found in plenty had we arrived a month or two earlier. Our captain
had some very good traits, and was very systematic. For instance, he
said that he would never allow a boat to leave the vessel to visit the
shore, to be gone even an hour, without being properly rationed, and
with flint, steel, and tinder, and also two large tin canisters filled
with garden seeds. He had a hobby that it was our duty to plant seeds
in all of the out-of-the-way places that we visited, for the good of
those who might come after us. Carrying out these ideas, he had had
our whaleboat on deck--whilst we were running by the land--righted and
filled with the above-named articles, ready for use in the morning;
that is to say, he had ordered to be put on board of her cooked rations
for six days for four men, two breakers of fresh water, one bag of hard
tack, a compass, two large tin canisters with water-tight screw-heads,
filled with peas, beans, cucumber seeds, one hatchet, one knife, and a
spare coil of rope.
The next morning, when we arose, there was a general desire to land
upon the unknown coast, and we bethought ourselves of the plan of
drawing lots to see who should stay on board and who go ashore, as the
vessel would need the care of at least three hands, leaving four of us
to go in the boat. Lots were drawn, and the privilege of going in the
boat fell upon Captain Davis, two of the sailors, and myself. I was
overjoyed at the opportunity of exploring this new world. Captain Davis
told us to arm ourselves well with rifles and revolvers, and to be in
readiness to start after breakfast, sharp.
No pleasanter party ever shoved off from a vessel's side than we
on that pleasant October morning. We soon reached the shore, and,
pulling up the boat upon the beach, were soon roaming here and there,
stretching our legs and enjoying the novelty of our position. It was
evident that the place was a complete solitude, and we doubted if any
civilized persons had ever visited the shores of the bay before.
We wanted most of all things a supply of fresh water, and to this end
we wandered somewhat apart and towards the upper part of the bay,
concealed by overjetting cliffs, to see if there was not some stream or
river flowing into it. After a little we heard a cry of delight from a
comrade in advance, and hastening toward him found that after turning
a short and abrupt point of rocks, a river of some considerable width
lay before our eyes, evidently navigable with a small boat for some
miles, but, as far as the eye could extend, no sign of any habitation.
We ran gayly back to the boat, launched her, and soon pulled round the
overhanging cliff that had concealed the presence of the river from us.
I should judge that we had pulled some five or six miles when we began
to get hungry, and thought by the sun that it was about noon, and that
we would land and eat our dinner. Up to this time we had found no side
brook or spring entering the main river, and each turn was so enticing
that we kept on passing bend after bend.
We landed upon a nice sandy beach, and soon had a pot boiling, and some
clams, of which there were vast quantities in the sand, cooking upon
hot stones. We made a capital meal, and after a good smoke took our
oars again and went on up the river. Shall I ever forget the ending of
that pleasant day? As we were chatting and passing a bend, and opening
a new reach, in one moment of time our ears were filled with awful
shrieks and shouts, and we had become the centre of a perfect shower of
missiles from the cliff underneath the base of which we had just passed.
Our first instinct was to drop our oars and grasp the firearms, and
a dropping, irregular fire into the bushes at the foot of the bend
and towards the higher cliff towering above us brought to a sudden
cessation the shower of stones with which we had been assailed, and
with wild cries of fear, pain, and awe these untutored savages fled
into the dense forest behind them.
I was amazed at the ease with which we had repelled them, until I
bethought me that probably our firearms were the first they had ever
heard. I wondered why we had not fired more, and quicker, and turning
my eyes from their disappearing bodies, I saw, with horror, the cause.
Captain Davis lay in the stern sheets of the boat with a large stone
across both legs, dropped evidently from the cliff, which was some
twenty or thirty feet above us, upon them. He had fainted away, or
else was dead from some other wound, for he did not offer to stir or
remove the stone. I glanced towards my other two comrades, and found,
upon examination, one with a serious fracture of the left arm, which,
however, did not prevent his holding on to his revolver in a most
determined manner, and the other with only a few slight bruises. I
beckoned him to come aft and help lift the stone off the captain's
legs, we did so, and threw water in his face to revive him. We dared
not imagine how bad his injuries were, and left him lying as we found
him, after throwing overboard the stone, which undoubtedly would
have gone through the bottom of the boat and sunk us, if it had not
encountered the legs of the captain in its descent. As for our other
comrade, we bound up his arm as best we could. I felt dizzy and weak,
but did not suspect any serious injury. All that I have written was
performed quickly, as sailors always act in an emergency. Bill Thompson
and I soon got the boat's head pointed down stream, and the way we
pulled for the ship was a sight to behold; pausing once in awhile to
lift a hand and explode a revolver to keep the savages from attacking
us again; but they had evidently had enough of it, for we saw no signs
of them, and after a long and arduous pull we came to the ship's side,
and sad was the news that we had for our comrades. We slung the boat
and hoisted her on board, and I ordered the anchor to be weighed at
once, and we set sail from this treacherous bay. It was found upon
examination that one of the captain's legs was broken, evidently a
compound fracture, and the other much bruised and inflamed. He was
carried with care and affection to his stateroom, and I took charge of
the deck. The sailor's arm was found to be a simple fracture, and we
soon had it in splints and himself in his berth. After the schooner
was fairly under way and heading out of the bay, I went below to my
stateroom, and found that I had received several severe blows, but
none that had drawn blood, except in the back of my head, where I
found the hair under my cap bloody and matted together. This it was
that had made me dizzy, although my excitement had been so great that
I could not fix where the pain was till all was over. I washed myself,
and went on deck again, to remain there during the night and run the
schooner out into the open sea. What thoughts passed through my brain
as the little vessel gallantly slipped along by the land, towards the
ocean!--what in the world were we to do should Captain Davis die,
and where were we to recruit, for during the long watches of that
night it was agreed that we had become too short handed to prosecute
our enterprise, and that the best thing that we could do would be
to make our way back to England and start afresh; but after a long
consultation, it was acknowledged that we were in no condition to face
Cape Horn, and that we must get somewhere to recruit before we dare
attempt the passage home. The captain, who had his senses perfectly,
although suffering bodily pain, said "that we must make one of the
easterly of the Society Islands before attempting to go home, and there
recruit ourselves, overhaul the vessel, and by that time he should know
what he was to expect of his own health, but feared that his injuries
were beyond mortal aid." Towards morning the open sea appeared ahead,
and at about eight bells, we issued from the mouth of Magellan Straits,
and I laid the course of the schooner northwest, so as to hit Easter
Island, or some of the islands further to the westward should the wind
haul. At two bells in the forenoon we were bowling along on our course
with everything set, and a fine working breeze from north-northeast,
and a smooth sea. Of course we talked over the disastrous trip of the
day before, and, as in all such cases, wondered why we did not do so
and so, and why we were not more careful, etc., but to what good. The
deed was done: our comrade with his broken arm, and our captain with
his broken leg, were mute reminders of our folly and carelessness. My
greatest fear at this time was that we should lose the captain, and
that his duties would devolve upon me. He seemed throughout this day
slightly better, but upon examination we found that we could not set
his leg as we had the sailor's arm, and that, although he complained of
little pain, his leg had a puffed and swollen appearance, and I feared
the worst. I was somewhat in favor of changing the course and making
a port on the South American coast; but the captain would not hear of
it. He said "you can at least get to the Society Islands and land your
cargo in some port under some flag where it will be safely kept till
you return to England for a new crew. I shall not get well any sooner,
if at all, on the South American coast than I shall in the Society
Islands. We are bound by honor to push the adventure to its legitimate
end, or as near it as possible." This and many other convincing things
were uttered by him. "If my leg should have been amputated it should
have been done before this; and it will be too late to do anything
at Santiago as well as at Easter Island. You can still do a great
deal towards making the adventure a success; perhaps you can even get
volunteers enough in the islands to fill up your ranks, so as not to
have to go back to England till you have your headquarters established
and a cargo ready to ship back." And thus this sick and dying man
cheered us on.
The end of the day found us with a still fresh working breeze headed
for Easter Island.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN DAVIS WOUNDED.--PAGE 14.]