The WRECK of the OREGON
TWO years had passed away after the crew of the _Acadia_ found a haven
on Pitcairn Island, when one night, the 23d of August, 1883, as the
islanders were about to retire to rest, they were startled by shouts
and the blowing of a fog horn from over the waters. That another
shipwreck had occurred somewhere near was evident, and the men, hastily
mustering, went forth with lanterns into the night, and were soon at
the landing place. Having launched a boat, a few minutes’ rapid pulling
brought them to the object of their search. It proved to be a boat
which had belonged to the bark _Oregon_, now a wreck on the reefs of
Oeno. She had been about a month out from Oregon on her way to Chile
when she struck on the reefs that surrounded the low-lying island of
Oeno. All the crew, and three passengers, a widowed lady and her two
infant boys, landed safely on Oeno Island. The position of the ship
after she struck was such as to enable the crew to remove everything
they wanted, so that they were comfortably settled during their
enforced stay.
When all had been made as comfortable as circumstances permitted, the
captain, Hardy by name, and his mate, Mr. Walker, after consulting
together, decided that the captain should take their small boat and
seek a passage through the heavy surf that broke continuously on the
reef surrounding the lagoon, and should he succeed in accomplishing it
safely, the rest were to follow in the two other boats, with as much
of the goods as they could prudently carry. Captain Hardy, accompanied
by one of the sailors and the cook, left the shore. Just when the
boat had passed beyond the smooth waters of the lagoon out into the
breakers, it capsized, and the poor captain was drowned. The mate’s
boat, following almost directly, passed safely through the rolling
surf, and in passing, the two men who were clinging to the upturned
boat, were rescued. With this addition to his crew, the mate, not
returning to tell those behind of the captain’s fate, at once steered
in the direction of Pitcairn Island. The weather being fair and the
wind favorable, they reached their destined place on the second night
out.
Most of the men in the mate’s boat were Chileans, and were scarcely
able to speak any word in the English language. All were received and
sheltered, a disused little building having been fitted up for their
accommodation, and after a rest of two nights and a day Mr. Walker,
leaving his own men behind, took a crew of the islanders and returned
to Oeno, in search of the remainder of the ship’s company. But these
had not waited his return, for, having been left without a word as
to what had occurred after the captain’s futile attempt to effect a
passage, they had launched their big boat, and, placing therein the
trunks belonging to the lady, Mrs. Collyer, who, with her children,
accompanied them, they too followed the way that the rest had taken.
A big Irish sailor took command of the boat and found some difficulty
in managing the rest of the men who were with him, and who certainly
showed no disposition to willingly obey his orders. Though he possessed
very limited knowledge in the art of navigation, yet, under the
guidance of a merciful Providence, their boat came in all right, and
the day after the mate had gone, the crew of tired men, who had rowed
almost the whole distance, beheld, with a feeling of true thankfulness,
the sight of land and the prospect of rest. The poor woman, too, was
worn out with anxiety, and the care and attention bestowed on her when
she arrived in the midst of friends were most gratifying.
Hers had been a sad experience. Her husband, the Rev. J. W. Collyer,
whose field of labor had been in Chile, was going, for the benefit of
his health, on a visit to his mother in the United States, and had
engaged a passage for himself and family on the bark _Oregon_, for the
State of the same name. Only a few days out from the South American
Coast his sickness took a sudden turn for the worse, and unexpectedly
and with but a few minutes’ warning he died, leaving not one word to
comfort and cheer his almost broken-hearted wife. She had to endure the
further pain of having him buried at sea, and in her widowed state,
among strangers, she made the voyage to Oregon. She was now returning
to her father’s house in Lola, Chile, when the unlooked-for disaster
happened, depriving her of the hope of soon seeing her family and
friends. But their stay on the island was of short duration, for, ere
the return of Mr. Walker from Oeno, all had been again received on
board the British ship _Leicester Castle_, in command of Captain Boag,
on his way to San Francisco.
Arriving at Oeno Mr. Walker’s first care was to secure the lady’s box
of jewelry, which he guarded with jealous care, but reached Pitcairn
just an hour too late to deliver the box into the lady’s own hands,
as the _Leicester Castle_ was about to make sail when the mate’s boat
appeared, the islanders having supplied whatever they could spare from
their own slender stock of provisions to help the heavy demands made
upon the stores of the _Leicester Castle_ by the addition of a whole
crew of shipwrecked men. After a long and tedious passage Captain
Boag at length arrived in port, where the crew of the late _Oregon_
were speedily discharged. Mrs. Collyer also left almost immediately
for home, where she arrived safely in due time, and where her box of
treasures reached her after a few months’ delay. On his arrival in
England Captain Boag suffered some inconvenience on account of his
having taken so many of the shipwrecked men on board his ship, and
drawing so heavily on his own limited resources to supply their wants.
On the 6th of November the last survivor of the generation immediately
succeeding the mutineers passed away. Elizabeth Young, _nee_ Mills,
and whose first husband was a son of Quintall the mutineer, died at
the ripe age of ninety-three. Her struggles with the last enemy were
protracted, as if life was so hard to yield up. While speech lasted,
she seemed to live over again the days when, as a child, she was
instructed by John Adams, and while tossing about on her bed and during
her calmer moments, she never ceased repeating the prayer that John
Adams taught his youthful flock to repeat before retiring to rest: “I
will lay me down in peace and take my rest, for Thou, Lord, only makest
me to dwell in safety. Into Thy hands I commend my body, soul, and
spirit. Thou has redeemed me, O Lord, Thou God of truth.” The second
year following the death of old Elizabeth Young—called by everybody
“ma-ma”—saw more deaths than had happened in any previous year since
the island was reinhabited, four deaths occurring among the community
during the year 1885.
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