WRECK of the CORNWALLIS
THE CLOSING months of 1873, and almost the entire year of 1874, was the
period when, more than any other, the island suffered from the effects
of drought. As ships, the only means of communication possible with
the outside world, very seldom called at the island during the years
that followed the arrival of both parties from Norfolk Island, the
inhabitants seemed to occupy a little world entirely by themselves,
and might have remained in their remote isolation for an indefinite
time were it not that an unlooked-for event happened, which led to the
little island’s receiving much attention from many who until now had
never known of its existence, and to the reviving again of the interest
shown by those who in former years proved themselves true friends.
Toward the close of January, 1875, the Liverpool ship _Cornwallis_,
of the firm of Balfour, Williamson & Co., homeward bound from San
Francisco, came in sight. The captain in his boyhood had read the
story of the mutineers of the _Bounty_ and their subsequent settlement
of the isolated rock, and decided that he would make a call at the
place where, just eighty-five years before, Christian and his guilty
party had landed. Taking with him his apprentices, they left the ship
in charge of the first officer, and came ashore in their own boat,
accompanied by some of the island men who had gone off to the ship.
But a very short time had elapsed after they landed when the ship
was observed to be losing her ground, and, as if impelled by some
unseen power, she drifted shoreward, coming on swiftly and surely to
destruction. The people on shore watched with breathless anxiety and
terror the doomed ship, and earnest but unavailing prayers went up
that the fearful catastrophe might be averted. The poor captain, half
frantic, rushed with his young men and all the island men that were
within call, to the landing place, to launch the boat and put off to
the vessel, that was every moment nearing the rocks. But no effort
could save her, and she soon struck on some unseen rocks a few feet
from the shore. Had there been ten minutes more time, she would have
been saved, as the water clear to the shore is very deep, and a few
minutes more would have sufficed to steer the ship clear of danger.
A few of the islanders that had remained on the ship when the boat
first went off, terrified beyond control at the approaching shipwreck,
now hastily got into their boat and started for the shore. Meeting
the captain’s boat returning, they also went back to where the ship
now lay, a helpless wreck. The excitement that prevailed was great,
and soon everybody was near the scene of the disaster. The other men
that had been engaged about their several duties when the disaster took
place, now returned from the fields, and, seeing what had happened,
were quickly on the rocks near where the ship lay. Swimming off to the
vessel, they were soon engaged with the others who had been before them
in rendering what assistance they were able, and in a short time after
the ship struck, all the crew had been safely landed.
Little else was saved. The mate wished to make a return trip to the
vessel in spite of the wind, that was now increasing into a gale, and
at the cry, “Who will volunteer?” a ready response was given, but the
darkness coming on, and the threatening weather, made it advisable
to delay the effort until the next morning. The boat was once more
drawn up to a place of safety, and in the gloomy darkness, with
feelings still more gloomy, the captain and crew of the _Cornwallis_,
accompanied by the islanders, men, women, and children, formed a
silent procession up the steep hill path that led to the village. All
that could be done for the strangers thus unexpectedly thrown amongst
them was done as well as their limited means afforded, and everyone
willingly gave up sleeping rooms to the shipwrecked men during their
enforced stay, being content that their unexpected guests should enjoy
whatever could be provided for their comfort.
The chief anxiety experienced was how to find enough to feed their
guests should their stay be a long one, for this addition to their
number was confessedly a tax upon them in the matter of food supplies,
the islanders themselves being obliged to be careful in the use of
what they had, as the island had not yet recovered from the effects
of the long-continued drought of the previous years. Not a thing was
saved from the ship. The heavy seas rolled over the poor vessel during
the night, and by morning the gale had increased to such fury that
it was hopeless to attempt a return to the ship, each oncoming wave
threatening to overturn it or break it in pieces. The deepest sympathy
was felt for the distressed captain and his company of officers and
men, but nothing could be done to alleviate the misery of their
condition.
On the second day after the ship had become a wreck, she turned over
and broke up by the violence of the waves. The sea around was strewn
with wreckage, which floated away to leeward. The ship’s lifeboat,
uninjured, was among the things that were scattered from the ship on
breaking up, and in the hope of rescuing it a crew of the islanders
started to launch the captain’s gig. With brave hearts and strong
arms they waited for a moment’s lull in the angry waves to give them
an opportunity of getting safely over the dreadful surf that rolled
ceaselessly in to shore. At last the moment came, and at the command,
“Pull ahead,” with a strength that seemed more than human, the boat
was got beyond the danger of the breakers, that threatened to engulf
her. In due time the lifeboat was reached. Being full of water, each
man took turns to bail the boat. Wind and tide being both against them,
the work was exceedingly heavy, but courageous hearts and willing hands
insured success, and after several hours’ hard battling with the sea,
the gig and lifeboat were both landed in safety.
A sad accident occurred on shore while the men were engaged in
rescuing the boat. A boy twelve years of age had, with some of his
companions, gone down to the rocks near which the ship was wrecked, to
get something that floated ashore. In attempting to reach his object,
he was suddenly struck down by a heavy sea, and washed off into the
boiling waters. The only aid that could be rendered was by means of a
rope thrown to him, but before it could be brought the poor boy had
sunk, bruised and killed by the wreckage that was tossing around.
The poor, distracted mother witnessed the fearful scene, and in her
agonizing grief made her way to the place where her boy was taken off,
and would have thrown herself into the sea, as if such a sacrifice
could avail to save her boy, but the arms of strong men who had
followed held her back, and she was carried with great difficulty and
in an unconscious state up the rocky steep to her home, where pitying
friends received her and attended her through the long, dreary months
of illness that followed. The father was not present when the accident
took place, so word was sent to him where he was at work. He was with
difficulty restrained from casting himself into the angry sea in the
remote hope of finding the body of his son, but at length submitted to
be led home; nor was the body ever seen again, although a search was
kept up for several days.
[Illustration: THE MISSION HOUSE.]
The American ship _Dauntless_ had come in during the day, and Captain
Wilbur waited until next morning, when, on learning what had taken
place, he kindly offered to take the whole crew of the _Cornwallis_ on
his ship, and give them a passage to New York, whither he was bound.
The ship was wrecked on Saturday, and by Tuesday noon all her crew had
left, leaving only the poor remains of the good ship to remind the
people of the sad occurrence.
The September following another shipwrecked crew was welcomed to
the island. The Liverpool ship _Khandeish_, homeward bound from San
Francisco, was wrecked on the reefs of Oeno Island, and the crew,
taking with them what could be saved from the ship’s stores, and a
little of their clothing, left in their big boat and gig for Pitcairn
Island. The wind favoring, the short voyage was soon accomplished.
As soon as the shipwrecked mariners’ boats were seen, a crew of the
islanders put off in their boat—the gig that had been left by Captain
Hammond, of the _Cornwallis_—to meet and welcome their unlooked-for
visitors. When all had landed, the crew of the ship was divided into
companies of twos and threes for their better accommodation amongst
the families with whom they were to stay, and who all had gone down
to the beach to receive them. They were made welcome to the homes
of the people, and were soon like members of the families where each
sojourned, taking part in the daily labors, and joining with them in
their family worship, as well as attending all the religious services
that were held. During their stay of fifty-one days they behaved in a
way to win the approval of all, and when, on the 19th of November, they
left on the British ship _Ennerdale_ for San Francisco, the parting
on both sides was expressive of much sorrow. One of the men remained
behind and was shortly afterwards married to a widow to whom he had
become attached.
The captain, officers, and crew of the _Khandeish_, on their arrival
in San Francisco, represented the condition of the Pitcairn islanders
as a very needy one indeed, although the islanders themselves,
accustomed all their lives to the simplest manner of living, did not
realize so fully as their late guests did their “forlorn condition,”
as some of the papers expressed it. Of the treatment they received
while on the island they spoke in terms of warmest gratitude, and did
what they could in return for the hospitality that had been shown
them. In this they succeeded beyond their utmost expectations, for
the generous citizens of San Francisco responded with such heartiness
that contributions kept pouring in, and every useful and necessary
article that was thought of,—cooking utensils, tinware of almost every
description, cups, plates, spoons, etc., etc., wooden pails and tin
pails,—testified to their large-hearted liberality. Clothing made
and unmade, buttons, pins, needles, etc., almost enough to stock a
respectable haberdasher’s shop, were contributed to the immense stock
of goods collected in response to the call of charity and benevolence.
A good supply of flour, a luxury to the islanders, was sent by Captain
Skelly, of the _Khandeish_, as his contribution to the general stock.
As a crowning gift to the whole, a beautifully-toned organ, of the
Mason & Hamlin Organ Company, was sent.
The gifts came on different ships, the first part being brought by
Captain D. A. Scribner, of the American ship _St. John_, which arrived
at the island in March, 1876. The captain was a very dear friend of
the islanders, having made repeated calls to the island before. He was
intrusted with a large mail from the ship’s company that had lately
left the island, and whose letters were frequent in their expressions
of gratitude for the kindness that had been shown them during their
temporary sojourn, and were also full of praise at the munificence and
generosity displayed by the good people of San Francisco, who had so
willingly responded to the call for charity.
To say that the islanders were grateful for the goodness so lavishly
showered upon them, would but faintly express what they really felt.
Grateful indeed they were, yet none the less did they feel their
unworthiness that they should be the favored recipients of so much
bounty in return for the small acts of human kindness rendered their
fellow-men in distress, and which they rightly considered were only
their duty to do.
The organ was brought by Captain Scribner. Directly on its being
landed it was lifted on the shoulders of a few strong men and borne by
them up the steep path, nor was the heavy but precious burden set down
until they reached the little thatch-roofed church, where it was placed
beside the reading table. All the inhabitants, old and young, gathered
around while Captain Scribner played, “Shall We Gather at the River?”
Every voice joined in the song, and when it ended, repeated expressions
of thanks were given to the kind friend who brought it, and through
him to the generous friends who sent the handsome gift. Tears were in
many eyes as the people stood around and witnessed the substantial
proofs of the kindness they were receiving. It was a new and very
delightful experience to them to listen for the first time to the tones
of a perfect-keyed instrument. The only other one of the kind that the
island boasted was an old harmonium, that, weak-lunged and out of tune,
had been given to a young woman by the doctor of H. M. S. _Petrel_,
which was on a day’s visit to the island two months before. The old
feeble instrument had been taken to pieces and cleared from the rubbish
and dust that had accumulated within it, and otherwise repaired, so
that now, with its really sweet tones, it served for the young people
to practice their first lessons in instrumental music, which they were
not slow to do, notwithstanding the fact that they had no book or
teacher to aid or direct them. And now, when the new organ was opened,
all who wished had the gratification of trying a few chords on it, and
enjoying the power of the instrument, an experience delightful as it
was new. The donors themselves would have felt rewarded had they seen
how much pure enjoyment their beautiful gift conferred, a gift that was
valued with keen appreciation by everyone.
Among the many and various presents sent from San Francisco, the wants
of the school were not forgotten, and a large supply of schoolbooks
came—books new and old, and ranging from the first to fifth and sixth
readers. This want, so generously supplied, was one of the greatest
that had been experienced, and the children as well as the teacher
hailed with delight the prospect of having a book all to one’s self,
and no longer being obliged to read from the same book turn by turn.
The change was truly gratifying, for before this the school had for
its best reader, speller, and grammar an old copy of Lindley Murray
excepted, a few antiquated copies of good old Mavor’s spelling book,
dog-eared, and so literally worn out that in places here and there the
words were entirely obliterated and many of the leaves had become loose
and dropped out through age and usage. The one venerable copy of an old
book of geography was succeeded by a goodly number of others, which
opened to the children’s view a world hitherto undreamed of.
It would occupy too much space to give a detailed account of everything
sent to the people, every article of which was gratefully received and
thoroughly appreciated. In recounting the deeds of generous kindness
lavishly bestowed upon the islanders from time to time, it should
never be forgotten how large a debt of gratitude they owe to their
friends both in Valparaiso and Honolulu, as well as in England. But
while they were thankful for favors shown, the thought was none the
less humiliating that, in their peculiar circumstances, they were
obliged to be dependent upon the charity of others for some of the
very necessaries of life. Whaling ships and trading vessels, the
former sources of such supplies, now ceased almost entirely to come to
the island. Had there been a way by which they could, through their
own efforts, procure all that was needed for their necessities, the
necessary labor would have been willingly bestowed; but their extremely
isolated position rendered such efforts almost impossible.
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