[33] From Snorri's _Edda_, cap. 44.
_THE WRECK OF THE 'WAGER'_
THE Honourable John Byron, grandfather of the poet, was a celebrated
British Admiral who in almost all his voyages fell in with such rough
weather that his sailors nicknamed him 'Foul-weather Jack.'
When he was seventeen years old he served as midshipman in the 'Wager,'
a vessel attached to the squadron under the command of Commodore Anson
which sailed out to the Spanish Settlements in the Pacific in 1740.
From the set-out the expedition was unfortunate. Almost all the ships
were ill-fitted and ill-provisioned for so long a voyage. Moreover they
were delayed until long after the proper season for their departure was
past, which was regarded by the soldiers and sailors as an evil omen.
This neglect affected the 'Wager' more than any other ship, as she was
an old East Indiaman, and had been bought into the service for the
voyage, and fitted out for it as a man-of-war.
Besides this, when under sail she listed to one side, as she was
top-laden with heavy military gear and stores for the use of the other
vessels, while the lower holds were filled with light merchandise for
bartering with the Indians.
Her crew were men who had been pressed on their return from long
voyages, and the marines a small troop of invalids from the Chelsea
Hospital, who were all alike very miserably depressed at the prospect of
the long voyage which lay before them.
Even Captain Kid, under whose command the 'Wager' sailed out of port,
when on his death-bed shortly after, foretold her ill-success.
Upon his death Captain Cheap took command, and was able to keep with the
squadron until they were about to enter the Straits la Marie, where the
wind shifted to the south, and with the turn of the tide the 'Wager'
was separated from the other ships, and very narrowly escaped being
wrecked off Staten Island.
[Illustration: 'ONE MAN . . . STALKED ABOUT THE DECK AND FLOURISHED A
CUTLASS . . . SHOUTING THAT HE WAS "KING OF THE COUNTRY"']
However, she regained her station with the rest of the fleet until a few
days later, when they were caught by a deep roll of a hollow sea, and
lost their mizzen mast, and all the windward chain plates were broken.
They tried to rig up a substitute for the mizzen mast, but failed, as
hard westerly gales set in with a tremendous short chopping swell, which
raised the waves to a mountainous height, while from time to time a
heavy sea broke over the ship. The boats on the davits were cast from
their lashings, and filled with water, and the ship in all parts was
soon in a most shattered and crazy state.
They had now lost sight of the squadron, and from the numbers of birds,
and the drifting seaweed in the waters, they found they were being borne
on to a lee shore. The heavy clouds that lowered above them, or the
blinding sleet and snow, hid the sun and prevented the officers from
taking sights; and at night no moon or stars by which they could steer
their course were visible in the wild gloom through which they tossed.
When the officers at last found they were out of their bearings, they
tried to persuade the captain to alter the course, but this he refused
to do, as he believed he was making directly for the Island of Socoro,
which was the place arranged for the squadron to meet, and whence it was
intended they should make their first attack upon the Spaniards.
At this time, when all but twelve men on the 'Wager' were disabled by
fatigue or sickness, there loomed against the dull clouds a yet heavier
cloud, which was that of mountainous masses of land. Then Captain Cheap
at last realised their danger, and gave orders to wear ship to the
southward, hoping that they might crowd her off the land.
But the fury of the gale increased as night fell upon them, while to add
to their dismay, as each sail was set with infinite labour, it was set
only to be blown or rent immediately from the yard.
At four o'clock in the morning the ship struck, then again for the
second time more violently; and presently she lay helpless on her beam
ends--while the sea every now and then broke over her.
Everyone who could move rushed to the quarter-deck, but those who were
dying of scurvy and who could not leave their hammocks were drowned in
them.
In the uncertain light of dawn they could see nothing around them but
leaden breakers from whose foam-crested manes the wind swept the
blinding spray. The ship lay in this terrible plight for some little
time, while every soul on board counted each moment as his last.
In this scene of wild disorder the men lost all reason and restraint,
some gave themselves up to death like logs, and were rolled hither and
thither with each jerk and roll of the shivering ship.
One man in the exaltation of his despair stalked about the deck, and
flourished a cutlass over his head, and struck at anyone who came near
him with it--meanwhile shouting that he was the 'king of the country.'
Another, and a brave man, was so overcome by the fury of the seething
waters, that he tried to throw himself from the rails at the
quarter-deck, and to end in death a scene he felt too shocking to look
upon.
The man at the helm still kept his post, though both rudder and tiller
had been carried away; and applied himself to his duty with the same
respect and coolness as though the ship were in the greatest safety.
Then Mr. Jones, the mate, spoke to the men, saying, 'My friends! have
you never seen a ship amongst breakers before? Lend a hand, boys, and
lay on to the sheets and braces. I have no fear but that we shall stick
her near enough to the land to save our lives.'
Although he said these gallant words without hope of saving a single
soul, he gave courage to many of the men, and they set to work in
earnest.
They steered as best they could by the sheets and braces, and presently
ran her in between an opening in the breakers, and soon found themselves
wedged fast between two great rocks.
With the break of day the weather cleared sufficiently to give them a
glimpse of the land. They then set to work to get out the boats. The
first one that was launched was so overladen by those anxious to save
themselves, that they were almost swamped before they reached the shore.
On the day before the ship was wrecked, the captain had had his shoulder
dislocated by a fall, and was lying in his berth when John Byron, whose
duty it was to keep him informed of all that passed on deck, went to ask
if he would not like to land. But the captain refused to leave the ship
until everyone else had gone.
Throughout the ship, the scene was now greatly changed. The men who but
a few moments before had been on their knees praying for mercy, when
they found themselves not in immediate danger, became very riotous,
rushed to the cabins and stores, and broke open every chest and box they
could find, as well as casks of wine and brandy. And by drinking it some
of them were rendered so helpless that they were drowned on board by the
seas that continually swept over them.
The boatswain and five other men refused to leave the ship while there
was any liquor to be got; then at last the captain consented to be
helped from his bed, and to be taken on shore.
* * * * *
Although they were thankful to escape from the wreck, when they reached
the land they found themselves in a scene desolate enough to quell the
bravest soul.
The bay in which they had been cast away was open to the full force of
the ocean, and was formed by rocky headlands and cliffs with here and
there a stretch of beach, while rising abruptly from the sea a
rock-bound steep frowned above them, which they afterwards named Mount
Misery. Stretching back from the beach lay stagnant lagoons and dreary
flats of morass and swamp, the edges of which were drained by the roots
of heavy forest trees whose impenetrable gloom clothed the intervening
country and hillsides.
And out before them in the tempestuous waters the wreck lay, from whose
stores must come their only present chance of life.
With nightfall presently at hand, though they were cold and wet and
hungry, they had to try to find a shelter, and at last chanced upon an
Indian hut at a little distance from the beach. Into this poor refuge
the men packed themselves in a voluntary imprisonment, while, to add to
their distress, they were afraid of being attacked by Indians.
One of the officers died in this miserable place during the night, and
of those left outside who were unable from want of room to press in, two
more perished from cold.
The next morning found them cramped with starvation and cold, with no
food but some fragments of biscuit, a solitary seagull someone had
killed, and the stalks of wild celery that grew upon the beach. This
they made into soup, and served as far as it would go to the hundred and
forty men who clamoured for food.
The men who had remained on the wreck were now anxious to be brought on
shore, and repeatedly made signals to that effect; but the sea was
running high and it was not possible at once to set out to their relief.
In their rage at the delay they fired one of the quarter-deck guns upon
the camp, while on board they destroyed everything they could lay hands
on. In his brutality and greed for spoil, a man named James Mitchell
murdered one of their number. When at last they were brought to land
they came dressed in laced clothes and officers' suits which they had
put on over their own dirty clothes.
These men Captain Cheap instantly had stripped of their finery and arms,
and enforced the most strict discipline upon them and all the crew.
In a few days they had a shelter made with boats turned keel upwards,
and placed on props, while the sides were lined with canvas and boughs.
Then followed five weary months, during which these hunger-driven men
roamed the wretched island rocks both night and day, searching for
shell-fish for food--men who were even thankful at the times when they
were able to kill and eat the carrion crows that fed upon the flesh of
their drowned comrades cast up by the tide. Some Indians surprised them
by a visit, and stayed for several days, and with them they were able to
barter cloth and beads for some dogs, and these they killed and ate.
The Indians were very short and black, and had long coarse hair that
hung over their faces, and were almost without clothing of any kind.
The shipwrecked men grew more and more discontented as the months went
by, and several of them threatened to take the life of the captain,
whose strict discipline and guard over the stores made them very angry.
James Mitchell, who had murdered a man on the wreck, and had since
committed another murder on Mount Misery, where his victim was found
shockingly stabbed and mangled, was amongst this set. They had
determined to leave the others, and on the night before their departure
had placed a barrel of gunpowder close to the captain's hut, intending
to blow it up, but were dissuaded from doing this by one of their
number. After wandering about the island for some time they went up one
of the lagoons on a punt they had made, and were never heard of again.
Captain Cheap was very jealous of his authority, and hasty in suspecting
both officers and men of a desire to mutiny, and this suspicion on his
part led to the unfortunate shooting by him of a midshipman named Mr.
Cozens, whom he heard one day disputing with the purser as to the
disposal of some stores he was at the time receiving from the wreck. The
captain already had a personal dislike to Mr. Cozens, and hearing high
words immediately rushed out of his hut and shot him. Mr. Cozens did not
die until several days after, but the captain would not allow him to be
attended to by the surgeon, or to have any care from the other men,
though they begged to be allowed to carry him to their tent, but ordered
that he should be left upon the ground, under a bit of canvas thrown
over some bushes, until he died. This inhumanity on the part of Captain
Cheap much embittered the men against him.
[Illustration: The Captain shoots Mr. Cozens]
Their numbers were now lessened, chiefly by famine, to one hundred
souls; the weather was still tempestuous and rainy, and the difficulty
of finding food daily increased.
They had saved the long-boat from the wreck, and about this time John
Bulkely, who had been a gunner on the 'Wager,' formed a plan of trying
to make the voyage home through the Straits of Magellan. The plan was
proposed to the captain, and though he thought it wiser to pretend to
fall in with it, he had no intention of doing so. And when Bulkely and
his followers suggested that there should be some restrictions on his
command, or that at least he should do nothing without consulting his
officers, the captain refused to consent to this; whereupon they
imprisoned him, intending to take him to England on the charge of having
murdered Mr. Cozens.
But when the boats were ready for sailing they found there would not be
enough room for everybody. So the captain, Mr. Hamilton, and the doctor
were left on the island.
John Byron did not know they were going to do this until the last
moment. There were eighty-one men who left the island, who were
distributed in the long-boat, the cutter, and the barge.
After they had been out about two days it was thought necessary to send
back to the old station for some spare canvas. John Byron was sent back
with the barge on this errand. When he was well away from the long-boat
he told those with him he did not mean to return, but to rejoin Captain
Cheap; and they agreed to do so too.
Although they were welcomed by those left on the island, there was
little food for so many mouths, as almost everything had been carried
off by the voyagers, and for a considerable time they were forced to
live upon a kind of seaweed called slaugh, which with the stalks of wild
celery they fried in the tallow of some candles they had saved.
This poor food reduced them to a terrible condition of weakness.
At last a really fair day broke upon them, when they went out to the
remains of the wreck, and had the good fortune to hook up out of the
bottom, three casks of beef which they brought safely to shore. The good
food gave them renewed strength and energy, and again they became very
anxious to leave the island.
Accordingly they launched both boats on December 15. The captain,
Lieutenant Hamilton, and John Byron were in the barge with nine men, and
Mr. Campbell in the yawl with six. And thus they set out on their
journey northward.
Then followed weary days, during which they rowed over high seas, and
weary nights of exposure and cold, when they landed on some barren shore
for rest and to wait for daylight.
On Christmas Eve they found themselves tossing on a wide bay, and
unable by the force of the currents to double the rocky headlands that
lay in front of them. Unable, too, by the fury of the breakers to make
the land or to find harbour, they were forced to lie outside all that
night upon their oars.
They were so hungry then that they ate their shoes, which were made of
raw sealskin.
On Christmas Day some of them landed, and had the good fortune to kill a
seal. Though the two men who were left in each boat to take care of it
could see their companions on shore eating seal, they were unable to
have any themselves, as again when night came on the wind blew very
hard, and the mighty breakers beat with pulse-like regularity on the
shore.
John Byron, who had fallen into a comfortless sleep in the boat, was
suddenly awakened by a shriek, and saw the yawl turned bottom upwards
and go down.
One man was drowned, the other was thrown up by the breakers on the
beach and saved by the people there.
At this place Mr. Hamilton, who was with the shore party, shot at a
large sea-lion, which he hit with two balls; and when the brute
presently charged at him with open mouth, he thrust his bayonet down its
throat, as well as a great part of the barrel of his gun. But the
sea-lion bit this in two with the greatest ease, and in spite of all its
wounds, and all other efforts to kill it, got away.
As they had lost the yawl there was not enough of room to take all the
men away from this place, therefore four of the marines agreed to remain
and to try to make their way on foot to a more habitable country.
The captain gave them guns and food, and as the boat put off, they stood
upon the beach and gave three cheers, and shouted 'God bless the King.'
The others made another attempt to double the cape, but the wind, the
sea, and currents were too strong for them, and again they failed. So
disheartened were they now, that caring little for life, they agreed to
return to their original station on Wager's Island, and to end their
days in miserable existence there.
They went back to the place where they had left the four marines in
order to try to get some seal for their return passage and to take these
men back with them, but when they searched all traces of them had gone.
It was here that the surgeon found in a curious cave the bodies of
several Indians that were stretched out on a kind of platform. The
flesh on the bodies had become perfectly dry and hard, and it was
thought that it must be the kind of burial given to the great men or
Caciques of the Indians.
After a terrible journey back to Wager's Island they reached it alive,
though again worn out by hunger and fatigue.
The first thing they did on reaching their old station was to bury the
corpse of the man who had been murdered on Mount Misery by James
Mitchell, for the men thought that all their misfortunes had arisen from
the neglect of this proper duty to the dead, and they were sure that the
restless spirit of this person haunted the waters around them at night,
as they heard strange and unearthly cries from the sea. And one night,
in bright moonlight, they saw and heard something which looked like a
human being swimming near the shore.
[Illustration: Mr. Hamilton's fight with the sea-lion]
Inconsistent as this may seem, they were soon so terribly driven by
hunger that the last dreadful suggestion for food was beginning to be
whispered amongst them, when fortunately some Indians from the island of
Chiloc appeared. It was supposed they had heard of the wreck from those
first Indians who had visited them, and had come to collect old iron
and nails, which they value very much.
They were able to persuade the Cacique, who was a Christian named
Martini, to promise to show them the safest and best way to some of the
Spanish Settlements. Once more the barge was launched, with the fifteen
souls on board who now remained on the island of the shipwrecked crew.
They followed their Indian guide by day for some time, during which
their sufferings were so terrible that it was no unusual thing for one
of their number to fall back dying from the oars, meanwhile beseeching
his comrades for two or three mouthfuls of food which they had not.
Captain Cheap, who was always well provided with seal by the Indians,
again showed how regardless he could be of the sufferings of others, and
often though he could have relieved his men by giving up a small portion
of his own food when he heard their heartrending appeals for it, let
them die at their posts unheedful of their want and misery.
They were rather taken in by their Christian Indian Martini. He made
them row the heavy barge a very long way up a river and then deserted
them for several days. They found he wished to secure the barge here,
which was to be a part of his reward, and which was too heavy to be
carried over the rocks of the headlands in the way they carried their
own canoes--and by which they escaped the heavy seas that ran round
those places.
However, the Cacique returned again, and after a time he consented to
take the captain with John Byron to row his canoe on to another part of
the coast where there were more Indians.
They reached this camp late one evening, and while the captain was at
once taken by Martini to a wigwam, Byron was left outside to shift for
himself as best he could. He was so exhausted that all he could do was
to creep into the shelter of a wigwam, and chance what fate might bring
him.
These wigwams were built of branches of trees placed in a circle, which
are bound at the top by a kind of creeper called supple-jack. The frame
of the wigwam is covered with boughs and bark. The fire is lit in the
very centre, round which the Indians lie. As there is no outlet for the
smoke, it is not a very comfortable place to sleep in.
There were only two Indian women in the wigwam into which John Byron
crept, who were very astonished to see him. However, they were kind to
him and made up a good fire, and presently, when he made them understand
that he was hungry, they gave him some fish to eat. But when he had
finished it he was still so hungry that he made signs for more. Then
they went out into the night, taking their dogs with them, and came back
in an hour or two shivering and with water dripping from their hair.
They had caught two more fish, which after they had cooked slightly they
gave him to eat.
These people live only on what they can take from the sea, and train
their dogs to dive for fish and their women for sea-eggs. While
collecting these the women stay under water a wonderfully long time;
they have really the hardest work to do, as they have to provide food
for their husbands and children. They are not allowed to touch any food
themselves until the husband is satisfied, when he gives them a very
small portion, generally that which he does not care to eat himself.
Martini then told them that they would have to return in the canoe by
which they had come to their companions, and that the Indians they were
leaving would join them in a few days, after which they would all set
out together on the journey northwards. They found Mr. Elliot, the
surgeon, very ill, and Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Campbell were almost
starved, having had only a few sea-eggs to eat since they had left.
About the middle of March they re-embarked with the other Indians, and
soon afterwards Mr. Elliot died. He had been one of the strongest of the
party, and one of the most useful and self-denying, and had never spared
himself in trying to provide food for the others. He was also one of the
best shots of the party.
Most of them were now reduced to rags and without shoes, and when they
had to cross the stony headlands and swamps, and to carry heavy burdens,
their feet were often terribly torn.
The Cacique had now become a very hard master to all but the captain,
and forced them to row like galley slaves when they were in the boats.
Indeed, the captain seemed to encourage the Indian in this conduct. He
had become more selfish and cunning in keeping all the food he could lay
hands on for himself, and was accustomed to sleep with his head pillowed
on a dirty piece of canvas in which he wrapped portions of seal or
sea-eggs. Thorough cleanliness had become an impossibility to them: they
were now terribly emaciated and covered by vermin. The captain
particularly was a most shocking sight. His legs had become tremendously
swelled, probably from the disease known as 'beri-beri,' while his body
was almost a skeleton, his beard had grown very long, and his face was
covered with train oil and dirt.
When at last they were within a few miles of the island of Chiloc, they
found they had to cross a most dangerous bay. After waiting for two days
for fair weather they started, although the Cacique even then seemed
terrified, and there was every reason for it, as the sea ran so strong
and their boat was most crazy, the bottom plank having opened, and
ceaseless bailing had to be carried on all the time. It was early in
June when they reached this place.
[Illustration: The Cacique fires off the gun]
Directly the Cacique landed he buried all the things he had brought from
the wreck, for he knew that the Spaniards would take everything from
him.
That same evening, as they drew near to a settlement of Chiloc Indians
the Cacique asked them to load their one remaining gun with the last
charge of powder, and to show him how to fire it off. Holding the gun
as far away from his head as he could he fired, and fell back into the
bottom of the canoe.
When the Chiloc Indians found out who they were, they brought fish and
potatoes for them to eat, and this was the nicest meal they had had for
more than a year.
These Indians are very strong and nice-looking people; they are
extremely neat in their dress. The men wear what is called a puncho,
which is a square piece of cloth in stripes of different colours, with a
slit in the centre wide enough to put their heads through, and it hangs
from their shoulders.
After a little time the shipwrecked men were sent on by these people to
the Spaniards at Castro. There they were met by a number of soldiers,
with three or four officers, who surrounded them fiercely as though they
were a most formidable enemy instead of the four poor helpless creatures
left of the fifteen men that had set out from Wager's Island.
Though they had had much better food since they had been with the kindly
Indians, they were so weak that they could hardly walk up the hill to
the shed in which they were to be lodged.
Numbers of people came to look at them in this place, as though they
were wild beasts or curiosities; and when they heard they had been
starved for more than a year, they brought quantities of chicken and all
kinds of good things for them to eat.
John Byron then began to feel more comfortable. He was always ready to
make a meal, and used to carry food in his pockets so that he need not
wait a second for it if he felt hungry. Even the captain owned that he
ate so much that he felt quite ashamed of himself.
In a little time an old Jesuit priest came to see them. He did not come
because he was sorry for them, but because he had heard from the Indian
Cacique that they had things of great value about them. The priest began
by producing a bottle of brandy, and gave them all some to open their
hearts.
Captain Cheap told him he had nothing, not remembering that Martini had
seen his gold repeater watch; but at the same time he said that Mr.
Campbell had a silver watch, which he at once ordered him to make a
present of to the priest.
Soon after the Spanish governor sent for them to be brought to Chaco,
where they were very well treated by the people. Whilst here John Byron
was asked to marry the niece of a very rich old priest.
The lady made the suggestion through her uncle, saying that first she
wished him to be converted, and then he might marry her.
When the old priest made the offer, he took John Byron into a room where
there were several large chests full of clothes. Taking from one of them
a large piece of linen, he told him it should be made up into shirts for
him at once if he would marry the lady.
The thought of new shirts was a great temptation to John Byron, as he
had only the one in which he had lived ever since he had been wrecked.
However, he denied himself this luxury, and excused himself for not
being able to accept the honour of the lady's hand.
On _this_ occasion he managed to speak Spanish sufficiently well to make
himself understood.
In January 1742 they were sent on to Valparaiso as English prisoners.
Only Captain Cheap and Mr. Campbell were recognised as officers, as they
had saved their commissions, and they were sent to St. Jago, while John
Byron and Mr. Hamilton were kept in prison. However, when they were
released they were permitted to rejoin the others at St. Jago, and found
them living with a Scotch physician named Don Patricio Gedd.
When Dr. Gedd heard of the four English prisoners, he had begged the
President to allow them to live at his house.
This was granted, and during the two years they lived there with him, he
treated them most hospitably, and would hear of no return being made for
his kindness.
Mr. Campbell changed his religion while they were at St. Jago, and left
his companions.
At the end of two years the President sent for them, and told them that
they were at liberty to leave the country in a French ship bound for
Spain.
Accordingly, in the end of December 1744, they sailed in the frigate
bound for Conception, where she was to join three more French ships that
were homeward bound.
On October 27 they reached Cape Ortegal, and after lying at anchor there
for several days they were taken to Landernan, where they lived on
parole for three months, until an order came from the Court of Spain to
allow them to return home by the first ship that sailed. After arranging
with the captain of a Dutch lugger to land them at Dover they embarked
in her and had a very uncomfortable passage.
[Illustration: Byron rides past the turnpikes]
When they got well up Channel they found the Dutchman had no intention
of landing them at Dover, as he was making his way up off the coast of
France. In the midst of their indignation at this breach of faith, an
English man-of-war appeared to windward, and bore down upon them. This
was the 'Squirrel,' commanded by Captain Masterton. He at once sent them
off in one of his cutters, and they arrived at Dover that afternoon.
They agreed to start for London the next morning. Captain Cheap and Mr.
Hamilton were to drive in a post-chaise, and John Byron was to ride. But
when they came to divide the little money they had left, it was found
there would be barely enough to pay for horses. There was not a farthing
left for John Byron to buy any food he might want on the way, nothing
even to pay for the turnpikes. However, he boldly cheated these by
riding as hard as he could through them all, and paid no attention to
the shouts of the men when they tried to stop him. The want of food he
had to put up with.
When he got to the Borough he took a coach and drove to Marlborough
Street, where his people had lived before he left England. But when he
came to the house he found it shut up. He had been away for five years,
and had not heard a word from home all that time, therefore he was at a
loss to know what to do for a few minutes until he remembered a linen
draper's shop near by which his family had used. He drove there, and
told them who he was. They paid his coachman for him, and told him that
his sister was married to Lord Carlisle, and was living in Soho Square.
He went at once to her house; but the porter would not admit him for a
long time. He was strangely dressed; half in Spanish, and half in French
clothing, and besides, he wore very large and very mud-bespattered
boots. The porter was about to shut the door in his face when John Byron
persuaded him to let him in.
Then at last his troubles were over. His sister was delighted to see
him, and at once gave him money with which to buy new clothes. And until
he looked like an Englishman again, he did not feel he had come to the
end of all the strange scenes and adventures that he had experienced for
more than five years.
_PETER WILLIAMSON_[34]
I WAS born in Hirulay, in the county of Aberdeen. My parents, though not
rich, were respectable, and so long as I was under their care all went
well with me. Unhappily, I was sent to stay with an aunt at Aberdeen,
where, at eight years old, when playing on the quay, I was noticed as a
strong, active little fellow by two men belonging to a vessel in the
harbour. Now this vessel was in the employ of certain merchants of
Aberdeen, who used her for the villainous purpose of kidnapping--that
is, stealing young children from their parents, and selling them as
slaves in the plantations abroad.
These impious monsters, marking me out for their prey, tempted me on
board the ship, which I had no sooner entered than they led me between
the decks to some other boys whom they had kidnapped in like manner. Not
understanding what a fate was in store for me, I passed the time in
childish amusement with the other lads in the steerage, for we were
never allowed to go on deck while the vessel stayed in the harbour,
which it did till they had imprisoned as many luckless boys as they
needed.
Then the ship set sail for America. I cannot remember much of the
voyage, being a mere child at the time, but I shall never forget what
happened when it was nearly ended. We had reached the American coast
when a hard gale of wind sprang up from the south-east, and about
midnight the ship struck on a sandbank off Cape May, near Delaware. To
the terror of all on board, it was soon almost full of water. The boat
was then hoisted out, and the captain and his fellow-villains, the crew,
got into it, leaving me and my deluded companions, as they supposed, to
perish. The cries, shrieks, and tears of a throng of children had no
effect on these merciless wretches.
But happily for us the wind abated, and the ship being on a sandbank,
which did not give way to let her deeper, we lay here till morning, when
the captain, unwilling to lose all his cargo, sent some of the crew in a
boat to the ship's side to bring us ashore. A sort of camp was made, and
here we stayed till we were taken in by a vessel bound to Philadelphia.
[Illustration: THE INDIAN THREATENS PETER WILLIAMSON]
At Philadelphia people soon came to buy us. We were sold for 16_l._
apiece. I never knew what became of my unhappy companions, but I was
sold for seven years to one of my countrymen, Hugh Wilson, who in his
youth had suffered the same fate as myself in being kidnapped from his
home.
Happy was my lot in falling into his power, for he was a humane, worthy
man. Having no children of his own, and pitying my sad condition, he
took great care of me till I was fit for business, and at twelve years
old set me about little things till I could manage harder work.
Meanwhile, seeing my fellow-servants often reading and writing, I felt a
strong desire to learn, and told my master that I should be glad to
serve a year longer than the bond obliged me if he would let me go to
school. To this he readily agreed, and I went every winter for five
years, also learning as much as I could from my fellow-servants.
With this good master I stayed till I was seventeen years old, when he
died, leaving me a sum of money, about 120_l._ sterling, his best horse,
and all his wearing apparel.
I now maintained myself by working about the country, for anyone who
would employ me, for nearly seven years, when I determined to settle
down. I applied to the daughter of a prosperous planter, and found my
suit was acceptable both to her and her father, so we married. My
father-in-law wishing to establish us comfortably, gave me a tract of
land which lay, unhappily for me, as it has since proved, on the
frontiers of Pennsylvania. It contained about two hundred acres, with a
good house and barn.
I was now happy in my home with a good wife; but my peace did not last
long, for about 1754 the Indians in the French interest, who had
formerly been very troublesome in our province, began to renew their old
practices. Even many of the Indians whom we supposed to be in the
English interest joined the plundering bands; it was no wonder, for the
French did their utmost, to win them over, promising to pay 15_l._ for
every scalp of an Englishman!
Hardly a day passed but some unhappy family fell a victim to French
bribery and savage cruelty. As for me, though now in comfortable
circumstances, with an affectionate and amiable wife, it was not long
before I suddenly became the most pitiable of mankind. I can never bear
to think of the last time I saw my dear wife, on the fatal 2nd of
October, 1754. That day she had left home to visit some of her
relations, and, no one being in the house but myself, I stayed up later
than usual, expecting her return. How great was my terror when, at
eleven o'clock at night, I heard the dismal war-whoop of the savages,
and, flying to the window, saw a band of them outside, about twelve in
number.
They made several attempts to get in, and I asked them what they wanted.
They paid no attention, but went on beating at the door, trying to get
it open. Then, having my gun loaded in my hand, I threatened them with
death if they would not go away. But one of them, who could speak a
little English, called out in return that if I did not come out they
would burn me alive in the house. They told me further--what I had
already found out--that they were no friends to the English, but that if
I would surrender myself prisoner they would not kill me.
My horror was beyond all words. I could not depend on the promises of
such creatures, but I must either accept their offer or be burnt alive.
Accordingly I went out of my house with my gun in my hand, not knowing
what I did or that I still held it. Immediately, like so many tigers,
they rushed on me and disarmed me. Having me now completely in their
power, the merciless villains bound me to a tree near the door, and then
went into the house and plundered what they could. Numbers of things
which they were unable to carry away were set fire to with the house and
consumed before my eyes. Then they set fire to my barn, stable, and
outhouses, where I had about two hundred bushels of wheat, and cows,
sheep, and horses. My agony as I watched all this havoc it is impossible
to describe.
When the terrible business was over, one of the monsters came to me, a
tomahawk in his hand, threatening me with a cruel death if I would not
consent to go with them. I was forced to agree, promising to do all that
was in my power for them, and trusting to Providence to deliver me out
of their hands. On this they untied me, and gave me a great load to
carry on my back, under which I travelled all that night with them, full
of the most terrible fear lest my unhappy wife should likewise have
fallen into their clutches. At daybreak my master ordered me to lay down
my load, when, tying my hands round a tree with a small cord, they
forced the blood out of my finger ends. They then kindled a fire near
the tree to which I was bound, which redoubled my agony, for I thought
they were going to sacrifice me there.
[Illustration: 'ANOTHER PARTY OF INDIANS ARRIVED, BRINGING TWENTY SCALPS
AND THREE PRISONERS']
When the fire was made, they danced round me after their manner, with
all kinds of antics, whooping and crying out in the most horrible
fashion. Then they took the burning coals and sticks, flaming with fire
at the ends; and held them near my face, head, hands and feet, with
fiendish delight, at the same time threatening to burn me entirely if I
called out or made the least noise. So, tortured as I was, I could make
no sign of distress but shedding silent tears, which, when they saw,
they took fresh coals, and held them near my eyes, telling me my face
was wet, and they would dry it for me. I have often wondered how I
endured these tortures; but at last they were satisfied, and sat down
round the fire and roasted the meat which they had brought from my
dwelling!
When they had prepared it they offered some to me, and though it may be
imagined that I had not much heart to eat, I was forced to seem pleased,
lest if I refused it they should again begin to torture me. What I could
not eat I contrived to get between the bark and the tree--my foes having
unbound my hands till they supposed I had eaten all they gave me. But
then they bound me as before, and so I continued all day. When the sun
was set they put out the fire, and covered the ashes with leaves, as is
their custom, that the white people may find no signs of their having
been there.
Travelling thence, by the river, for about six miles, I being loaded
heavily, we reached a spot near the Blue Hills, where the savages hid
their plunder under logs of wood. Thence, shocking to relate, they went
to a neighbouring house, that of Jacob Snider, his wife, five children,
and a young man, a servant. They soon forced their way into the unhappy
man's dwelling, slew the whole family, and set fire to the house.
The servant's life was spared for a time, since they thought he might be
of use to them, and forthwith loaded him with plunder. But he could not
bear the cruel treatment that we suffered; and though I tried to console
him with a hope of deliverance, he continued to sob and moan. One of the
savages, seeing this, instantly came up, struck him to the ground, and
slew him.
The family of John Adams next suffered. All were here put to death
except Adams himself, a good old man, whom they loaded with plunder, and
day after day continued to treat with the most shocking cruelty,
painting him all over with various colours, plucking the white hairs
from his beard, and telling him he was a fool for living so long, and
many other tortures which he bore with wonderful composure, praying to
God.
One night after he had been tortured, when he and I were sitting
together, pitying each other's misfortunes, another party of Indians
arrived, bringing twenty scalps and three prisoners, who gave us
terrible accounts of what tragedies had passed in their parts, on which
I cannot bear to dwell.
These three prisoners contrived to escape, but unhappily, not knowing
the country, they were recaptured and brought back. They were then all
put to death, with terrible tortures.
A great snow now falling, the savages began to be afraid that the white
people would follow their tracks upon it and find out their skulking
retreats, and this caused them to make their way to their winter
quarters, about two hundred miles further from any plantations or
English inhabitants. There, after a long and tedious journey, in which I
was almost starved, I arrived with this villainous crew. The place where
we had to stay, in their tongue, was called Alamingo, and there I found
a number of wigwams full of Indian women and children. Dancing, singing,
and shooting were their general amusements, and they told what successes
they had had in their expeditions, in which I found myself part of their
theme. The severity of the cold increasing, they stripped me of my own
clothes and gave me what they usually wear themselves--a blanket, a
piece of coarse cloth, and a pair of shoes made of deer-skin.
The better sort of Indians have shirts of the finest linen they can get;
and with these some wear ruffles, but they never put them on till they
have painted them different colours, and do not take them off to wash,
but wear them till they fall into pieces. They are very proud, and
delight in trinkets, such as silver plates round their wrists and necks,
with several strings of _wampum_, which is made of cotton, interwoven
with pebbles, cockle-shells, &c. From their ears and noses they have
rings and beads, which hang dangling an inch or two.
The hair of their heads is managed in different ways: some pluck out and
destroy all except a lock hanging from the crown of the head, which they
interweave with wampum and feathers. But the women wear it very long,
twisted down their backs, with beads, feathers, and wampum, and on their
heads they carry little coronets of brass or copper.
No people have a greater love of liberty or affection for their
relations, yet they are the most revengeful race on earth, and inhumanly
cruel. They generally avoid open fighting in war, yet they are brave
when taken, enduring death or torture with wonderful courage. Nor would
they at any time commit such outrages as they do, if they were not
tempted by drink and money by those who call themselves civilised.
At Alamingo I was kept nearly two months, till the snow was off the
ground--a long time to be among such creatures! I was too far from any
plantations or white people to try to escape; besides, the bitter cold
made my limbs quite benumbed. But I contrived to defend myself more or
less against the weather by building a little wigwam with the bark of
the trees, covering it with earth, which made it resemble a cave, and
keeping a good fire always near the door.
Seeing me outwardly submissive, the savages sometimes gave me a little
meat, but my chief food was Indian corn. Having liberty to go about was,
indeed, more than I had expected; but they knew well it was impossible
for me to escape.
At length they prepared for another expedition against the planters and
white people, but before they set out they were joined by many other
Indians from Fort Duquesne, well stored with powder and ball that they
had received from the French.
As soon as the snow was quite gone, so that no trace of their footsteps
could be found, they set out on their journey towards Pennsylvania, to
the number of nearly a hundred and fifty. Their wives and children were
left behind in the wigwams. My duty was to carry whatever they entrusted
to me; but they never gave me a gun. For several days we were almost
famished for want of proper provisions: I had nothing but a few stalks
of Indian corn, which I was glad to eat dry, and the Indians themselves
did not fare much better.
When we again reached the Blue Hills, a council of war was held, and we
agreed to divide into companies of about twenty men each, after which
every captain marched with his party where he thought proper. I still
belonged to my old masters, but was left behind on the mountains with
ten Indians, to stay till the rest returned, as they did not think it
safe to carry me nearer to the plantations.
Here being left, I began to meditate on my escape, for I knew the
country round very well, having often hunted there. The third day after
the great body of the Indians quitted us my keepers visited the
mountains in search of game, leaving me bound in such a way that I could
not get free. When they returned at night they unbound me, and we all
sat down to supper together, feasting on two polecats which they had
killed. Then, being greatly tired with their day's excursion, they lay
down to rest as usual.
Seeing them apparently fast asleep, I tried different ways of finding
out whether it was a pretence to see what I should do. But after making
a noise and walking about, sometimes touching them with my feet, I found
that they really slept. My heart exulted at the hope of freedom, but it
sank again when I thought how easily I might be recaptured. I resolved,
if possible, to get one of their guns, and if discovered to die in
self-defence rather than be taken; and I tried several times to take one
from under their heads, where they always secure them. But in vain; I
could not have done so without rousing them.
So, trusting myself to the divine protection, I set out defenceless.
Such was my terror, however, that at first I halted every four or five
yards, looking fearfully towards the spot where I had left the Indians,
lest they should wake and miss me. But when I was about two hundred
yards off I mended my pace, and made all the haste I could to the foot
of the mountains.
Suddenly I was struck with the greatest terror and dismay, hearing
behind me the fearful cries and howlings of the savages, far worse than
the roaring of lions or the shrieking of hyaenas; and I knew that they
had missed me. The more my dread increased the faster I hurried, scarce
knowing where I trod, sometimes falling and bruising myself, cutting my
feet against the stones, yet, faint and maimed as I was, rushing on
through the woods. I fled till daybreak, then crept into a hollow tree,
where I lay concealed, thanking God for so far having favoured my
escape. I had nothing to eat but a little corn.
But my repose did not last long, for in a few hours I heard the voices
of the savages near the tree in which I was hid threatening me with what
they would do if they caught me, which I already guessed too well.
However, at last they left the spot where I heard them, and I stayed in
my shelter the rest of that day without any fresh alarms.
At night I ventured out again, trembling at every bush I passed, and
thinking each twig that touched me a savage. The next day I concealed
myself in the same manner, and at night travelled forward, keeping off
the main road, used by the Indians, as much as possible, which made my
journey far longer, and more painful than I can express.
But how shall I describe my terror when, on the fourth night, a party of
Indians lying round a small fire which I had not seen, hearing the
rustling I made among the leaves, started from the ground, seizing their
arms, and ran out into the wood? I did not know in my agony of fear
whether to stand still or rush on. I expected nothing but a terrible
death; but at that very moment a troop of swine made towards the place
where the savages were. They, seeing the hogs, guessed that their alarm
had been caused by them, and returned merrily to their fire and lay down
to sleep again. As soon as this happened I pursued my way more
cautiously and silently, but in a cold perspiration with terror at the
peril I had just escaped. Bruised, cut, and shaken, I still held on my
path till break of day, when I lay down under a huge log, and slept
undisturbed till noon. Then, getting up, I climbed a great hill, and,
scanning the country round, I saw, to my unspeakable joy, some
habitations of white people, about ten miles distant.
My pleasure was somewhat damped by not being able to get among them that
night. But they were too far off; therefore, when evening fell, I again
commended myself to Heaven, and lay down, utterly exhausted. In the
morning, as soon as I woke, I made towards the nearest of the cleared
lands which I had seen the day before; and that afternoon I reached the
house of John Bull, an old acquaintance. I knocked at the door, and his
wife, who opened it, seeing me in such a frightful condition, flew from
me like lightning, screaming, into the house.
This alarmed the whole family, who immediately seized their arms, and I
was soon greeted by the master with his gun in his hand. But when I made
myself known--for at first he took me for an Indian--he and all his
family welcomed me with great joy at finding me alive; since they had
been told I was murdered by the savages some months ago.
No longer able to bear up, I fainted and fell to the ground. When they
had recovered me, seeing my weak and famished state, they gave me some
food, but let me at first partake of it very sparingly. Then for two
days and nights they made me welcome, and did their utmost to bring back
my strength, with the kindest hospitality. Finding myself once more able
to ride, I borrowed a horse and some clothes of these good people, and
set out for my father-in-law's house in Chester county, about a hundred
and forty miles away. I reached it on January 4, 1755; but none of the
family could believe their eyes when they saw me, having lost all hope
on hearing that I had fallen a prey to the Indians.
They received me with great joy; but when I asked for my dear wife I
found she had been dead two months, and this fatal news greatly lessened
the delight I felt at my deliverance.