Captain Davis's condition. Only five men fit for duty. Terrific storm.
The schooner thrown on her beam ends and dismasted. Loss of three more
of the crew. Taking to the whale-boat. Foundering of the schooner
"Good Luck." Death of Captain Davis. Storm again, running to the
southward before the tempest. Strike upon a reef. The author cast on
shore.
The next fifteen or twenty days passed over us without anything
material interfering with our advancement towards the islands.
During this time the change in the condition of Captain Davis had
become worse; and we could all see that he was failing surely but
rapidly; the sailor with the broken arm, on the other hand, was every
day gaining strength and health, and bid fair to be soon amongst us
again and at work. Bill Thompson and myself had fully recovered from
the bruises and blows that we had received, and were in excellent
health.
The duty at this time was rather exhaustive, as there were only five
of us, including myself, fit for duty, and our turn at the wheel came
about pretty often, as we, being so short-handed, had each to take our
"trick." Our vessel was small, to be sure, and easily handled, but
reduced, as we were, to five men, it was no boy's play to manage her.
In the first place, it needed a man at the helm night and day; then
there was the cooking to be taken charge of; and at night the lookout
man on the forecastle; these were three imperative duties which
admitted of no change or neglect, and, divided amongst five persons,
and including the watches at night, gave us plenty to do and to think
of.
On November 5 we went about our usual duties in the morning, washing
down the decks, and making everything snug and cleanly, as seamen like
to see things. At noon I was able to get a good observation of the
sun, which gave us lat. 40° 89' 12'' S., and longitude by two forenoon
observations by chronometer, 112° 5' 54'' W. from Greenwich. The wind
had for the last two weeks steadily hauled ahead, and we had been
close-hauled and often unable to lay our course, hence I found the
schooner much too far to the southward, but with her longitude well run
down, and it was my purpose to decrease our latitude, even if we had to
stand on the other tack to the northward and eastward. We were about
fifteen hundred miles to the westward of the Straits of Magellan, which
was not a bad run for a small vessel of the size of the "Good Luck;"
especially when it was to be remembered that we had also made several
degrees (about ten) of northing, in latitude.
The afternoon shut down cloudy and threatening, and I hastened to the
cabin to consult the barometer; I found no great change, but marked
it with the side regulator, so as to be able to see if there was any
sudden change within the next hour or two. At about eight bells (4 P.
M.) the wind shifted suddenly to about N. N. W., and then died away and
left us bobbing about in a heavy cross-sea, with dark, dirty weather to
the northward and westward, but with little or no wind.
I examined the barometer again, and to my dismay saw that the mercury
had fallen rapidly since my last visit. Everything about us showed
that we were about to catch it, and although I knew that we were out
of the track of typhoons and cyclones, still we were evidently about
to experience a heavy gale of wind; the admonitions of nature were too
evident and palpable to be misunderstood. I called all hands, and we
went to work with a will to put the schooner in order for the coming
blast.
We soon had the foretopsail lowered on the cap, close reefed, and then
furled to the yard. We then took two reefs in the mainsail, and reefed
and then stowed the foresail; got the bonnet off the jib, and the
outer jib furled. Under this short sail we awaited the coming of the
inevitable. First, the day grew darker, and was overcast with clouds
of inky blackness; then came the mysterious sobbing and moaning of the
ocean that all sailors have experienced; then the jerky and uneven
motion of the schooner on the heavy swells for want of enough wind to
keep her canvas full and herself steady.
Finally, towards evening, the pent-up storm came madly down upon us
from the N. N. W., where it had been so long gathering its strength
and forces. We laid the schooner's head to the westward and awaited
the blast. Oh! if we only could have had wind enough to have gotten
steerage-way upon her, so as to have luffed up into the howling blast,
I might have been spared writing this narrative; but lying, as we were,
almost dead upon the waste of water, we were compelled to receive the
blast in all its strength, not being able to yield an atom to it. We
had done all that men could do, except to await the result and trust
in the mercy of God. I do not think that there was very much fear as
to the result; there was a certain anxiety, however; but sailors never
believe that wind or sea can hurt them till it does so. We expected to
be struck hard, and to suffer some damage; but I think no one on board
of that schooner had the slightest idea of the shock that we were about
to receive. As the storm, or rather advance whirlwind, approached, we
took our different stations and awaited the result. It came upon us
with a crash, and in spite of all our care and skill the foretopmast
went over the side, followed by the jibboom and maintopmast, as if
the whole fabric had been made of paper, and the schooner was thrown
violently upon her beam-ends. We lowered away the mainsail halyards,
and, by cutting away the wreck to leeward, finally got her head before
the wind, when she righted, and we dashed off before the tempest
with nothing set but the jib, the mainsail having blown out of the
bolt-ropes. Black night shut down upon us like a pall, and sheets of
rain and spray fell upon us in torrents; thunder and lightning played
about us, lighting up the decks one moment as bright as noonday, and
the next leaving us in the most intense darkness, with a feeling about
the eyes as if they had been burned up in their sockets. After the
"Good Luck" once got started she did pretty well, scudding before it,
but the forward sail was too small for the tremendous sea getting up
astern of us; and we were in deadly peril of being pooped, and feared
it each moment. We could set no square sail, everything forward above
the foretop having been carried away; and we had no means of hoisting
the foresail, even if we had dared to set it, as the peak-halyards had
been carried away with the fall of the topmast, and we could not repair
them; so all we could do was to fasten down the companion-way and trust
to luck in letting her run before it under the jib. I thought that I
had seen it blow before, but such a gale as this I never experienced;
the voice of the tempest howled so through the rigging that you could
not hear the faintest sound of the human voice in its loudest tones.
I stood at the wheel, after helping to cut away the wreck, aiding the
man at the helm through that long and awful night. We lashed ourselves
to the rail and rudder-head; and well was it that we did so, for we
were repeatedly pooped, and large masses of water came in over the
stern, and rushed forward over the decks, that would have carried us
to a watery grave if we had not been lashed to our post. My comrade
Bill Thompson and I had no means of knowing whether the others forward
had fared as well as we, or had been swept overboard by the repeated
invasions of the sea.
Before we had been able to cut clear from the wreck we had received
several severe blows from the timbers alongside, how severe I had no
means of judging as yet, but my great fear was that we had started a
butt or been seriously injured by these floating spars before we had
been able to get rid of them.
About two bells (1 A. M.) as near as we could judge, the thunder and
lightning ceased; and the puffs of wind were less and less violent, so
that it was easy for us to feel confident that the strength of the gale
had passed us. At eight bells (4 A. M.) there was a great difference
both in the sea and wind; the former was no longer to be feared, and
the latter was fast dying out. With what anxiety did we watch for the
first light of day,--hours of agony unknown to those who have never
led a sailor's life. As the gray of the morning began to come upon
us, both wind and sea abated more and more, till in the full light
of the morning we lay a dismantled wreck upon the waste of waters,
with scarcely wind enough for a fair topsail breeze, and the seas
momentarily going down.
My first care was to rush into the cabin, and to the locker, and
pounce upon some food, and my next to carry some to my companion at
the wheel. After this I looked around me to take in our situation. The
foremast was gone near the head, the foreyard had evidently parted in
the slings, and the foretopmast, topsail, and hamper, all gone together
over the port bow.
Bill Thompson and I both strained our eyes for a view of some of our
companions forward, but not a living soul met our gaze. I descended
into the cabin, and found the captain and the sailor with the wounded
arm doing as well as could be supposed after such a night of horrors.
Captain Davis was evidently much weaker and much worse. I gave them
an outline of the misfortunes that had overtaken us, and then went
forward with a beating heart to the companion-way, threw it open, and
passed into the forecastle and found it empty; not one soul left of
three gallant fellows to tell the story of their swift destruction. The
repeated poopings that we had received during the night must have swept
them into the sea. I passed on deck, and thence aft. I noticed that the
cook's galley was gone, and the bulwarks on the starboard side, and all
the boats, except our whaleboat, which, although full of water, still
remained pinned down to the deck by the lashings across her frame to
the numerous ringbolts. As I walked aft, I could not but think that
the schooner seemed low in the water; but I for the moment put it down
to her changed appearance on account of the loss of her bulwarks. By
this time the sun had risen and as beautiful and mild a day as one
might desire to see burst upon us. I relieved Thompson at the wheel,
and the wounded sailor soon took it with his one arm; the vessel
scarcely moving through the water with the light air now stirring. I
went below for the sounding-rod, and hastened to the well, as I knew
we must have made much water during the storm, and I prayed to God
that it might be no worse. I pulled out the pump-bucket and inserted
the rod, it came back to the deck, marking at least FIVE FEET of water
in the hold. I struggled one moment with my emotion, and then, turning
to my companions, I said, "Get Captain Davis on deck; clear away the
whaleboat; this vessel, curse her, is doomed. She will not float one
hour; she has started a butt."
Amazement was depicted upon the faces of my companions; but,
sailor-like, they hastened to obey my commands. We went into the
cabin, and with infinite care and solicitude lifted the captain out
of his berth and carried him to the deck. We then gathered round the
whaleboat, relieved her from her slings and fastenings, tipped her over
upon the deck, and got out all the water, and righted her, and then
launched her over the starboard side through the broken bulwarks, and,
putting her in charge of the broken-armed sailor, let her drop astern
by her painter. We commenced at once rummaging for stores; and out
of a mass of stuff brought on deck I ordered the following into the
boat (the spritsail and oars were already lashed to the thwarts): Two
half casks of fresh water, one bag of hard tack, one bag of uncooked
salt junk, a fishing-line and hooks, a pair of blankets, some canned
meats, a compass, charts and quadrant, a Nautical Almanac, Bowditch's
Epitome, and a very valuable book of my own, a Compendium of Useful
Arts and Sciences, a few pounds of tea and coffee, four tin canisters
containing garden-seed, matches, two rifles and four revolvers, and
ammunition for the same; this, with the usual clothing of the men, was
as much as I dared load the boat with; and, pulling her up alongside,
we lowered the captain on board on a mattress, and proceeded to stow
away the articles I have enumerated in as good order as possible.
We stepped the spritsail forward and unlashed the oars, and got the
steering oar out aft through the becket made for that purpose. I
feasted my eyes upon the treasures round about me, but had sense enough
not to allow the boat to be overloaded with trash, so as to swamp us in
the first gale of wind. Having got everything on board, and carefully
noted the day of the month, November 6th, in the Nautical Almanac, we
cast off from the unlucky "Good Luck," and set our sail to keep near
her till her final destruction took place, which to our practised eyes
could not long be postponed, as she was evidently in the throes of
death. We found that she was making so little headway on account of
the light breeze, and from having settled so deep in the water, that
we took in our sail and lay to upon our oars at a safe distance and
watched her.
[Illustration: LAUNCHING THE WHALE BOAT.--PAGE 26.]
Could anything be more miserable than our condition? Four unfortunate
men, two of whom were crippled, one probably to the death, cast on the
open ocean in an open boat, at least a thousand miles from any known
land.
I thought of all the open-boat exposures of which I had ever read;
of Lieutenant Bligh and the "Bounty," and others equally startling.
I shuddered when I thought what our fate might be. I ran through,
in my mind, the rapid events that had followed each other since our
departure from England, and the unexplainable series of fatalities that
had robbed us of our comrades till we remained only the little group
now seated in this frail boat. In what direction should we steer? what
was to be our fate? what had God still in store for us in the shape of
misfortune and horror? It seemed as if the bitter cup had been full
to overflowing, and that we had drained it to the very dregs. I was
awakened from my day-dream by the voices of my comrades, who drew my
attention, without speech, by pointing to the doomed vessel. We lifted
Captain Davis in our arms, and with fixed eyes and set teeth saw the
misnamed schooner drive her bows under the water, and then shortly
after, majestically raising her forefoot high in air, sink down grandly
into the abyss of ocean, leaving us poor unfortunates adrift upon its
treacherous bosom.
After we had seen the last of the schooner we gathered together for
consultation as to our course. It was demonstrated by the chart that
we were much nearer to Easter Island than to any other land, say some
eight hundred miles distant by projection. But, on the other hand, the
wind hung persistently from the northward and placed us to leeward
of our port. It was too far to think of standing back to the South
American coast, and we felt that we must keep a northwesterly course,
and if the wind headed us off from Easter Island, that we could at
least fetch some of the more westerly of the Society Group.
Having decided upon this, we set our foresail and laid our course about
W. by N., which was as high as the wind would allow us to lie. The
day was pleasant and the wind light, and the sea quiet. I inaugurated
at once a system of daily allowance, and for this first day we were
to issue no rations, we all having had at least, although coarse and
interrupted, one meal and plenty of water, before leaving the schooner.
The days were growing perceptibly longer and warmer, and we ran all
that afternoon quietly along over quite a smooth sea, making good
headway to the westward, but little northing, which I was so anxious to
make. As the sun went down Captain Davis, although very weak, called
us all aft around him and, in a faint voice on the lonely ocean, from
memory repeated for us all the Lord's Prayer; the loneliness of our
situation and the solemnity of the occasion remain vividly in my mind
to this day. We all saw that we must soon lose our captain, but no one
dared to say as much to his neighbor; we could plainly see that his
hours were few, and that the motion and exposure of the boat could
not be endured by him much longer. After the sun went down I took the
steering oar aft, and telling the men to lie down and get all the rest
they could, I kept the boat on her course and seated myself near the
captain, stretched on his mattress at my feet. At about ten o'clock,
as near as I could judge, after a long and absolute silence, I heard
Captain Davis utter my name. I bent down towards him, and he said,
"Do not be shocked. I am soon, very soon, about to depart, the sands
of life have almost run out, and I am weary and want to be at rest in
the Haven of Repose. If you ever get back to England, tell them that
I did my duty faithfully. I, as you know, have no wife or child to
mourn for me, but I want you all to remember me as a just captain,
with all my faults. I have no fear of being buried in the sea; God
can find me anywhere at the great day, when we shall all be mustered
on the quarter-deck for inspection, and, if worthy, promotion. If you
are driven out of your course, keep to the westward still, and you
will eventually find land. Say a prayer or two over my body when you
commit me to the deep; and now wake up the men and let me say good-by
to them, for I am going fast." I called up the men, and the two poor
fellows came aft and shook the hand of our captain in sore distress;
and we sat watching, unwilling to sleep or break the silence of that
solemn moment. In about an hour Captain Davis opened his eyes, that had
been closed, raised his arm slowly to his head, touched an imaginary
hat, and said, "Come on board to report for duty, Sir,"--and passed
away like a child dropping to sleep. We covered the body with our spare
clothing, and each sat in sad reflection. Bill Thompson soon after
relieved me at the oar, and I laid down in the forward part of the boat
and tried to sleep; and such was exhausted nature that, in spite of
our unfortunate condition, I soon dropped off. I was awakened early
in the morning by a slight call from Bill, and sat up in the boat,
rather bewildered for a moment, till I saw the outline of the body in
the stern sheets, and then everything flashed back to my memory. I have
little doubt but what that sleep saved me for the purposes that God
has preserved me for to this day. It was thought best to dispose of
the body before the full breaking of the day, and we for that purpose
gathered around the remains, and, in compliance with the dead man's
request, I recited the Lord's Prayer, and we committed the body to
the deep. This event produced a new shock to our already overstrained
systems, and we looked sadly enough upon each other with almost vacant
eyes. We as yet were blessed with pleasant weather, and, although we
were not heading up to our course, we were making westing quite fast.
This day, November 7th, we passed without any remarkable event. As
there were now only three of us left we found plenty of room in the
boat to lie down at our ease, and it only took one of us to steer and
look after the boat. We rearranged everything, and stowed all our
articles in convenient places. So far, we had seen no signs of vessel
or land, and we passed the day in sleeping and refreshing ourselves for
whatever the future might have in store for us. The night was quiet
and the stars shone down upon us with their silvery light, and we used
them to keep our course by, having no light to see the compass in
the night-time. Towards eight o'clock in the morning of the 8th the
weather began to change, and large clouds to gather in the northern
horizon; it was at this time that we made another discovery, and that
was that one of the breakers of water had leaked out quietly till there
was scarcely enough in it for our rations for that morning; this was
caused by its not having been used for some time before we filled it
on board of the ship. This discovery caused us great uneasiness, and
although the breaker had evidently ceased leaking now, having swollen
with the water placed in it, it was no longer useful, as we had no
water to replace that which was lost. The weather to windward caused
me great disquietude, and I was sadly afraid, in case of a blow, that
my Nautical Almanac and Epitome and Compendium would be destroyed,
either by rain or seas that we might ship. I bethought me, therefore,
of copying off the declination of the sun for a few days, and the
tables that I might want to use, on a spare leaf of the Epitome, and
take out the head of the now useless breaker and enclose all the books
and charts in it and head it up. This was accordingly done. We started
the hoops, took out the head, put the books and charts in, carefully
wrapped up in a piece of blanket, and replaced the head and closed
up the bung-hole. I felt relieved after this, as I looked upon the
preservation of my books as of the utmost importance in our future
navigation, and I could think of no greater loss to people in our
condition than to have them lost or destroyed. It was with infinite
satisfaction that I saw them thus safely preserved from the water till
I could again take them out in good weather and examine and copy from
them.
Whilst we had been busy at this task the weather to windward was fast
becoming bad and threatening. I dealt out a fair ration of hard tack
and canned meat to my two comrades, and then ordered them to take
the sprit out of the foresail, and bring the peak down to the foot
of the mast, and lash it to the inner leach of the sail, and fasten
what was before the after leach to the foot; so as to make a sort of
double leg-of-mutton sail, with the body low down and along the boom.
We labored with a will at our work, for the freshening breeze was
fast coming down upon us, and at twelve o'clock, as I judge, we were
plunging along quite well for so small a boat, in about half a gale of
wind, which allowed us to head up as high as N. N. W. The sea, however,
was getting up fast, and I foresaw that unless it moderated we should
have to bear away and run before it. As I feared, we now commenced
to take in considerable water, which, although not in dangerous
quantities, gave us work to do in the shape of bailing with the empty
meat cans, whilst the attention of one was needed without remission
at the steering oar and sheet. We were, thank God, blessed with that
best of seaboats, a Nantucket whaleboat; and although she was low in
the water, she was also buoyant, and rode the waves better than could
be expected of any other craft of her size. I felt, too, that we could
at any time make easy weather of it by scudding or running before the
wind, for which she was admirably fitted, being sharp at both ends, and
therefore in no danger of being pooped; but this was the last thing
that I desired to do, as it would take us from our course towards the
islands and far to the southward, as such a boat would make rapid way
before the wind, with even this small sail.
At about two o'clock the wind hauled more to the westward and headed
us off to the southward. At three o'clock we had broken off to S. W.,
and the wind increasing, and the sea getting up fast, so fast that I
already had to let the boat go very free before it, to keep her from
being swamped.
At sundown the gale had greatly increased, and I found that to preserve
us, and on account of the steady change of the wind, that I was
compelled to steer about S. by W., and to allow ourselves to run before
the tempest. As the darkness set down upon us like a pall, I gave
ourselves up as lost. I clung to the steering-oar and guided the boat
before the wind; the only clew that was given me how to steer was the
angry roar of the combing billows astern and the rush of the wind by
the side of my face: by these two senses of hearing and feeling, I was
enabled to tell when the boat was about to broach to, which would have
been destruction, and how to steer so as to keep her before the wind.
The darkness was the darkness of the ocean in a storm, and torrents of
rain and spray flew over us. I was unable to see an atom of even the
sail ahead of me in the boat. And thus we plunged on, into the inky
darkness, followed by the angry roar of the disappointed waves that we
left astern. We were moving with frightful rapidity through the water;
but in what direction I had no means of knowing.
I clung to the steering-oar, and my companions to their bailers; how
many hours we thus rushed along I know not. I had become hardened to
the situation, and the angry roar astern had become a familiar noise
in my ears. I commenced to people the darkness with vessels, islands,
sunlight, and music; I had long ceased to care what fate might have in
store for me; I felt that the night must be nearly passed, and wondered
whether we should survive to see the daylight. I dreamed, and became
semi-unconscious, but still guided the boat onward before the wind.
I felt that nature could not be sustained much longer, and that in
a few hours I must succumb. My comrades pottered round at my feet,
their efforts to bail becoming more and more feeble. I was in this
reckless, half-dazed state when, without one moment's warning, I was
thrown with a crash into the forward end of the boat, and in another
instant surrounded by pieces of the boat and floating débris. I found
myself hurled rapidly forward by an incoming wave, and rolled over and
over some hard substance; the next instant the retreating wave found
me clinging to a mass of what was evidently land of some kind, and the
sea already had a faint, distant sound to my ears. The next incoming
wave dashed over some evident obstacle between me and it, and I clung
to the object at which I had first clutched, ready to receive it. I was
buried beneath it, but managed to keep my hold, and, as it retreated,
the noise again became fainter, and it flashed over me that, by the
first wave, I had been washed over some reef or barrier between the
open ocean and where I now hung, and that each wave was broken by this
barrier before reaching me.
Before the next wave came I had gained my feet, and felt that I was
standing upon rocky ground, and clutching masses of rock-weed in each
hand. I was again buried, but hung on with desperation till the wave
had retired. Evidently I had been washed over the reef; but what was to
leeward of me. By a sailor's instinct I knew that it was smooth water,
and that I had at least a rocky barrier between me and the raging ocean
outside. Every wave did not submerge me, but most of them did, and
I felt that it was only a question of a few moments more how long I
could hold on before trusting myself to swimming to leeward. O for some
knowledge of what lay behind me. One flash of lightning, one speck of
God's blessed daylight!
Was there land behind me? or should I let go my last hold upon life
when I unclasped my hands from the rock-weed that they held to? My
brain worked with lightning-like rapidity. I knew that I must not hang
on to this reef, submerged every few moments, till all my strength
was gone, so that I could not swim; this was to seek certain death;
whereas, in letting go and swimming to leeward I had one chance to be
saved. _If_ there was land, it no doubt could be easily approached on
account of the sea being stopped by the barrier to which I now clung.
On the other hand, if the land to which I now hung was the only land,
and the pitiless sea alone to leeward, then God have mercy upon my
soul! I must do something. Although used to swimming and diving, I
could not stand this submersion much longer, and my arms were fast
giving out; therefore, when the next wave came, I let go my hold,
and crying out, in my despair, "Oh, help me, Lord!" allowed myself
to be carried away with it. In a moment I felt that my conjectures
about smooth water had been correct. I swam without difficulty, in
comparatively smooth water, encumbered only by my clothes. Should I
find land before me? Oh, for light! Hark! did I hear the break of water
upon land before me? and so near. Down went my feet, and I found myself
standing in water not up to my armpits. The revulsion was terrible.
I fell into the water, and scrambling, fighting, fainting, plunged
forward till I found myself safe on shore and at some distance from the
water, when I fell down unconscious on the sand.