AMONG THE BILLOWS.
On the ocean’s troubled breast
Toss’d incessant without rest,
Now on raft and now on wave,
Death and trouble round me rave.
Owing to the manner in which the ship went down she created little
or no suction. A slight swirl and wreckage—principally pieces of the
awning, a few gratings and life-buoys—were all that denoted where
our vessel had been. She sank about 4.30 p. m., and just then the
thick weather cleared off a little so that when I rose on top of a
wave I could see a considerable distance off. The shore was plainly
visible and I judged we were about three miles S.W. of Cape Schanck.
I saw that the whole fifteen of my companions had managed to get
hold of some wreckage. The Captain, chief mate and two firemen were
all grouped together on some pieces of weather-board, and the others
were scattered in twos and threes, each on top of something. My
first fear was that the sharks would get hold of me, then it struck
me that the water was too rough for them to attack any one. I could
only see some single pieces of board near me, so I was puzzled for a
bit as to how to steer for something larger. All of a sudden I saw a
lot rise on the top of a big wave right ahead of me. I soon reached
it and thought I was quite as well off as the rest of my mates. My
raft consisted of eleven or twelve pieces of weather-board all nailed
together on a crosspiece. I got on top, and then every single piece
of plank that came near me I pulled on board, till I succeeded in
piling them up high enough to keep me out of the water. The sixteen
of us were at this time all floating nearly in a line. Two sailors
and the steward were about thirty yards seaward of me, the captain,
chief mate, and two firemen about 50 yards off landward, and the rest
a little distance further inward still. A large number of Mullihawks
collected and kept hovering above our heads. I had no sooner got my
raft put together, to the best advantage, when a heavy sea came, and
turned all clean over on top of me. The nails in the planks caught
my clothes and pierced my skin so that I had great difficulty in
clearing myself from underneath. When I succeeded in getting on top
again I saw that all my mates to windward of me had also been washed
off their wreckage, and a similar fate shortly after befel those to
leeward. It almost seemed as if the same wave had capsized the lot
of us one after the other. Everyone, however, succeeded in catching
their planks and getting on them again. After the capsize I found
my raft in a very different condition to what it was previously.
All the loose planks were gone and a number of the ones nailed to
the crosspiece had also disappeared. All of my mates, when on top
of their wreckage, knelt on the boards with their heads _facing the
shore_, and held on in that position. The noise made by the wind and
waves made it useless, at the distance I was off, for me to call to
my companions, but I made signs, and tried to show them, by lying
down flat on my raft, what I believed to be the surest way of holding
and keeping on, with my head _facing the seas_.
[Illustration: FOUNDERING OF THE S.S. ALERT, THREE MILES S.W. OF CAPE
SCHANCK. DECEMBER 28, 1893.]
As we drifted nearer the shore the seas got larger and more powerful
still, so that in spite of all our precautions we could not retain
our hold on the boards for any length of time. The frequent turning
over of my raft knocked me sort of stupid every time I went under,
and I have no doubt that the rest of my companions had similar
experience. I reckon it must have been about 6 p. m. when I saw the
steward washed away a great distance from the wreckage he had been
on. After a long struggle he succeeded in getting back to his mates,
but he evidently had completely exhausted himself in the effort,
for he had hardly been a minute on the top of the boards till he
fell from his kneeling position forward, with his head on the edge
of the raft. He seemed to be smothering in the foam of the sea, so
I shouted to his raft mates to hold his head up till I came to help
him if I could. I knew poor Dodd was not strong, still I thought we
might be able to keep him alive until the life-boat, or some other
assistance, came from the shore. I left my raft and swam towards him
as quickly as I could, but before reaching him a big sea buried me.
When I got to the surface again I saw the steward had been washed
off the boards and was floating some distance away in a position
that told me he was dead. It greatly grieved me to see that my most
intimate companion was the first to go out of our number, and for
the time being I felt unnerved enough almost to give up hope myself.
Then I thought it useless brooding over the matter, and determined
to struggle on while I had any strength left. For a while I swam
towards the raft on which were the captain, the chief officer and the
two firemen. As I got near I saw a large breaker turning them clean
over. They had their feet to the sea, and as their raft capsized I
saw the legs of the whole four in the air at the same time. Finding
it out of my power to help them, and thinking that matters might
be made worse by crowding too close together, I started back to my
boards again. Quite exhausted I reached my raft. As I lay on it I
began to think it was time the life-boat was in sight. I could see a
good distance around, the shore being plainly visible, but no sign
of any help coming. It could not have been more than 7 p. m., yet it
seemed to me that I had been days, instead of hours, in the water. I
noticed that all had got on their boards again. The different groups
were all ranged round in a semi-circle, and all, except myself,
heading shoreward. I had found, by bitter experience, that in heading
shoreward I was more exhausted—when turned over, or washed off my
raft by a sea—in getting back to my boards than when I faced and
headed the sea. At the same time, this method of going head first
into the seas kept myself and my raft from drifting shoreward as
quickly as the others. I did not mind this drawback, as my hope was
strong that the life-boat would pick us all up before dark. Various
currents now began to scatter our rafts in all directions. Both
Coutts and Williamson (two of the sailors), drifted so close to me
that I could speak to them. One after the other I asked how they were
getting on. I got no reply and I could plainly see that they were so
exhausted that they could not keep up the life struggle much longer.
The boards to which Coutts held on were being carried seaward, while
those belonging to Williamson were drifting in shore, towards the
place where the four-masted ship _Craigburn_ was wrecked. I reckoned
we had all drifted some miles shoreward—from where the _Alert_ had
foundered—before the tide began to turn, and take our various rafts
hither and thither. The seas, if possible, began to get bigger, and
break irregularly in all directions around us. I caught sight of
Mattison, the second officer, Thompson, the sailor, Kilpatrick, the
second engineer, and Mr. Newton, the saloon passenger, all being
carried by a current which I judged would take them round Cape
Schanck whilst the rest of our number were going, some towards the
shore, and some out seaward.
[Illustration: ROBERT PONTING “AMONG THE BILLOWS” ON THE NIGHT OF
DECEMBER 28, 1893.]
[Illustration: Decoration]