CHAPTER III.
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 anythingmaterial interfering with our advancement towards the islands.
During this time the change in the condition of Captain Davis hadbecome worse; and we could all see that he was failing surely butrapidly; the sailor with the broken arm, on the other hand, was everyday gaining strength and health, and bid fair to be soon amongst usagain and at work. Bill Thompson and myself had fully recovered fromthe bruises and blows that we had received, and were in excellenthealth.
The duty at this time was rather exhaustive, as there were only fiveof us, including myself, fit for duty, and our turn at the wheel cameabout pretty often, as we, being so short-handed, had each to take our"trick." Our vessel was small, to be sure, and easily handled, butreduced, 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; thenthere was the cooking to be taken charge of; and at night the lookoutman on the forecastle; these were three imperative duties whichadmitted of no change or neglect, and, divided amongst five persons,and including the watches at night, gave us plenty to do and to thinkof.
On November 5 we went about our usual duties in the morning, washingdown the decks, and making everything snug and cleanly, as seamen liketo see things. At noon I was able to get a good observation of thesun, which gave us lat. 40 deg. 89' 12'' S., and longitude by twoforenoon observations by chronometer, 112 deg. 5' 54'' W. from Greenwich.The wind had for the last two weeks steadily hauled ahead, and we hadbeen close-hauled and often unable to lay our course, hence I found theschooner much too far to the southward, but with her longitude well rundown, and it was my purpose to decrease our latitude, even if we had tostand on the other tack to the northward and eastward. We were aboutfifteen hundred miles to the westward of the Straits of Magellan, whichwas 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 severaldegrees (about ten) of northing, in latitude.
The afternoon shut down cloudy and threatening, and I hastened to thecabin to consult the barometer; I found no great change, but markedit with the side regulator, so as to be able to see if there was anysudden 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 andleft us bobbing about in a heavy cross-sea, with dark, dirty weather tothe northward and westward, but with little or no wind.
I examined the barometer again, and to my dismay saw that the mercuryhad fallen rapidly since my last visit. Everything about us showedthat we were about to catch it, and although I knew that we were outof the track of typhoons and cyclones, still we were evidently aboutto experience a heavy gale of wind; the admonitions of nature were tooevident and palpable to be misunderstood. I called all hands, and wewent to work with a will to put the schooner in order for the comingblast.
We soon had the foretopsail lowered on the cap, close reefed, and thenfurled to the yard. We then took two reefs in the mainsail, and reefedand then stowed the foresail; got the bonnet off the jib, and theouter jib furled. Under this short sail we awaited the coming of theinevitable. First, the day grew darker, and was overcast with cloudsof inky blackness; then came the mysterious sobbing and moaning of theocean that all sailors have experienced; then the jerky and unevenmotion of the schooner on the heavy swells for want of enough wind tokeep her canvas full and herself steady.
Finally, towards evening, the pent-up storm came madly down upon usfrom the N. N. W., where it had been so long gathering its strengthand forces. We laid the schooner's head to the westward and awaitedthe blast. Oh! if we only could have had wind enough to have gottensteerage-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 theblast in all its strength, not being able to yield an atom to it. Wehad done all that men could do, except to await the result and trustin the mercy of God. I do not think that there was very much fear asto the result; there was a certain anxiety, however; but sailors neverbelieve that wind or sea can hurt them till it does so. We expected tobe struck hard, and to suffer some damage; but I think no one on boardof that schooner had the slightest idea of the shock that we were aboutto receive. As the storm, or rather advance whirlwind, approached, wetook our different stations and awaited the result. It came upon uswith a crash, and in spite of all our care and skill the foretopmastwent over the side, followed by the jibboom and maintopmast, as ifthe whole fabric had been made of paper, and the schooner was thrownviolently upon her beam-ends. We lowered away the mainsail halyards,and, by cutting away the wreck to leeward, finally got her head beforethe wind, when she righted, and we dashed off before the tempestwith nothing set but the jib, the mainsail having blown out of thebolt-ropes. Black night shut down upon us like a pall, and sheets ofrain and spray fell upon us in torrents; thunder and lightning playedabout us, lighting up the decks one moment as bright as noonday, andthe next leaving us in the most intense darkness, with a feeling aboutthe 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 upastern of us; and we were in deadly peril of being pooped, and fearedit each moment. We could set no square sail, everything forward abovethe foretop having been carried away; and we had no means of hoistingthe foresail, even if we had dared to set it, as the peak-halyards hadbeen carried away with the fall of the topmast, and we could not repairthem; so all we could do was to fasten down the companion-way and trustto luck in letting her run before it under the jib. I thought that Ihad 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 couldnot 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 theman at the helm through that long and awful night. We lashed ourselvesto the rail and rudder-head; and well was it that we did so, for wewere repeatedly pooped, and large masses of water came in over thestern, and rushed forward over the decks, that would have carried usto a watery grave if we had not been lashed to our post. My comradeBill Thompson and I had no means of knowing whether the others forwardhad fared as well as we, or had been swept overboard by the repeatedinvasions of the sea.
Before we had been able to cut clear from the wreck we had receivedseveral severe blows from the timbers alongside, how severe I had nomeans of judging as yet, but my great fear was that we had started abutt or been seriously injured by these floating spars before we hadbeen able to get rid of them.
About two bells (1 A. M.) as near as we could judge, the thunder andlightning ceased; and the puffs of wind were less and less violent, sothat it was easy for us to feel confident that the strength of the galehad passed us. At eight bells (4 A. M.) there was a great differenceboth in the sea and wind; the former was no longer to be feared, andthe latter was fast dying out. With what anxiety did we watch for thefirst light of day,--hours of agony unknown to those who have neverled a sailor's life. As the gray of the morning began to come uponus, both wind and sea abated more and more, till in the full lightof the morning we lay a dismantled wreck upon the waste of waters,with scarcely wind enough for a fair topsail breeze, and the seasmomentarily going down.
My first care was to rush into the cabin, and to the locker, andpounce upon some food, and my next to carry some to my companion atthe wheel. After this I looked around me to take in our situation. Theforemast was gone near the head, the foreyard had evidently parted inthe slings, and the
foretopmast, topsail, and hamper, all gone togetherover the port bow.
Bill Thompson and I both strained our eyes for a view of some of ourcompanions forward, but not a living soul met our gaze. I descendedinto the cabin, and found the captain and the sailor with the woundedarm doing as well as could be supposed after such a night of horrors.Captain Davis was evidently much weaker and much worse. I gave theman outline of the misfortunes that had overtaken us, and then wentforward with a beating heart to the companion-way, threw it open, andpassed into the forecastle and found it empty; not one soul left ofthree gallant fellows to tell the story of their swift destruction. Therepeated poopings that we had received during the night must have sweptthem into the sea. I passed on deck, and thence aft. I noticed that thecook's galley was gone, and the bulwarks on the starboard side, and allthe boats, except our whaleboat, which, although full of water, stillremained pinned down to the deck by the lashings across her frame tothe numerous ringbolts. As I walked aft, I could not but think thatthe schooner seemed low in the water; but I for the moment put it downto her changed appearance on account of the loss of her bulwarks. Bythis time the sun had risen and as beautiful and mild a day as onemight desire to see burst upon us. I relieved Thompson at the wheel,and the wounded sailor soon took it with his one arm; the vesselscarcely moving through the water with the light air now stirring. Iwent below for the sounding-rod, and hastened to the well, as I knewwe must have made much water during the storm, and I prayed to Godthat it might be no worse. I pulled out the pump-bucket and insertedthe rod, it came back to the deck, marking at least FIVE FEET of waterin the hold. I struggled one moment with my emotion, and then, turningto my companions, I said, "Get Captain Davis on deck; clear away thewhaleboat; this vessel, curse her, is doomed. She will not float onehour; 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 thecabin, and with infinite care and solicitude lifted the captain outof his berth and carried him to the deck. We then gathered round thewhaleboat, relieved her from her slings and fastenings, tipped her overupon the deck, and got out all the water, and righted her, and thenlaunched her over the starboard side through the broken bulwarks, and,putting her in charge of the broken-armed sailor, let her drop asternby her painter. We commenced at once rummaging for stores; and outof a mass of stuff brought on deck I ordered the following into theboat (the spritsail and oars were already lashed to the thwarts): Twohalf casks of fresh water, one bag of hard tack, one bag of uncookedsalt junk, a fishing-line and hooks, a pair of blankets, some cannedmeats, a compass, charts and quadrant, a Nautical Almanac, Bowditch'sEpitome, and a very valuable book of my own, a Compendium of UsefulArts and Sciences, a few pounds of tea and coffee, four tin canisterscontaining garden-seed, matches, two rifles and four revolvers, andammunition for the same; this, with the usual clothing of the men, wasas 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 stowaway the articles I have enumerated in as good order as possible.We stepped the spritsail forward and unlashed the oars, and got thesteering oar out aft through the becket made for that purpose. Ifeasted my eyes upon the treasures round about me, but had sense enoughnot to allow the boat to be overloaded with trash, so as to swamp us inthe first gale of wind. Having got everything on board, and carefullynoted the day of the month, November 6th, in the Nautical Almanac, wecast off from the unlucky "Good Luck," and set our sail to keep nearher till her final destruction took place, which to our practised eyescould not long be postponed, as she was evidently in the throes ofdeath. We found that she was making so little headway on account ofthe light breeze, and from having settled so deep in the water, thatwe took in our sail and lay to upon our oars at a safe distance andwatched her.
LAUNCHING THE WHALE BOAT.--PAGE 26.]
Could anything be more miserable than our condition? Four unfortunatemen, two of whom were crippled, one probably to the death, cast on theopen ocean in an open boat, at least a thousand miles from any knownland.
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 ourdeparture from England, and the unexplainable series of fatalities thathad robbed us of our comrades till we remained only the little groupnow seated in this frail boat. In what direction should we steer? whatwas to be our fate? what had God still in store for us in the shape ofmisfortune and horror? It seemed as if the bitter cup had been fullto overflowing, and that we had drained it to the very dregs. I wasawakened from my day-dream by the voices of my comrades, who drew myattention, without speech, by pointing to the doomed vessel. We liftedCaptain Davis in our arms, and with fixed eyes and set teeth saw themisnamed schooner drive her bows under the water, and then shortlyafter, majestically raising her forefoot high in air, sink down grandlyinto the abyss of ocean, leaving us poor unfortunates adrift upon itstreacherous bosom.
After we had seen the last of the schooner we gathered together forconsultation as to our course. It was demonstrated by the chart thatwe were much nearer to Easter Island than to any other land, say someeight hundred miles distant by projection. But, on the other hand, thewind hung persistently from the northward and placed us to leewardof our port. It was too far to think of standing back to the SouthAmerican coast, and we felt that we must keep a northwesterly course,and if the wind headed us off from Easter Island, that we could atleast fetch some of the more westerly of the Society Group.
Having decided upon this, we set our foresail and laid our course aboutW. by N., which was as high as the wind would allow us to lie. Theday was pleasant and the wind light, and the sea quiet. I inauguratedat once a system of daily allowance, and for this first day we wereto issue no rations, we all having had at least, although coarse andinterrupted, one meal and plenty of water, before leaving the schooner.The days were growing perceptibly longer and warmer, and we ran allthat afternoon quietly along over quite a smooth sea, making goodheadway to the westward, but little northing, which I was so anxious tomake. As the sun went down Captain Davis, although very weak, calledus all aft around him and, in a faint voice on the lonely ocean, frommemory repeated for us all the Lord's Prayer; the loneliness of oursituation and the solemnity of the occasion remain vividly in my mindto this day. We all saw that we must soon lose our captain, but no onedared to say as much to his neighbor; we could plainly see that hishours were few, and that the motion and exposure of the boat couldnot be endured by him much longer. After the sun went down I took thesteering oar aft, and telling the men to lie down and get all the restthey could, I kept the boat on her course and seated myself near thecaptain, 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 heardCaptain 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 sandsof life have almost run out, and I am weary and want to be at rest inthe Haven of Repose. If you ever get back to England, tell them thatI did my duty faithfully. I, as you know, have no wife or child tomourn 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; Godcan find me anywhere at the great day, when we shall all be musteredon the quarter-deck for inspection, and, if worthy, promotion. If youare driven out of your course, keep to the westward still, and youwill eventually find land. Say a prayer or two over my body when youcommit me to the deep; and now wake up the men and let me say good-byto them, for I am going fast." I called up the men, and the two poorfellows came aft and shook the hand of our captain in sore distress;and we sat watching, unwilling to sleep or break the silence of thatsolemn moment. In about an hour Captain Davis opened his eyes, that hadbeen closed, raised his arm slowly to his head, touched an imaginaryhat, and said, "Come on board to report for duty, Sir,"--an
d passedaway like a child dropping to sleep. We covered the body with our spareclothing, and each sat in sad reflection. Bill Thompson soon afterrelieved me at the oar, and I laid down in the forward part of the boatand tried to sleep; and such was exhausted nature that, in spite ofour unfortunate condition, I soon dropped off. I was awakened earlyin 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 inthe stern sheets, and then everything flashed back to my memory. I havelittle doubt but what that sleep saved me for the purposes that Godhas preserved me for to this day. It was thought best to dispose ofthe body before the full breaking of the day, and we for that purposegathered around the remains, and, in compliance with the dead man'srequest, I recited the Lord's Prayer, and we committed the body tothe deep. This event produced a new shock to our already overstrainedsystems, and we looked sadly enough upon each other with almost vacanteyes. We as yet were blessed with pleasant weather, and, although wewere not heading up to our course, we were making westing quite fast.This day, November 7th, we passed without any remarkable event. Asthere were now only three of us left we found plenty of room in theboat to lie down at our ease, and it only took one of us to steer andlook after the boat. We rearranged everything, and stowed all ourarticles in convenient places. So far, we had seen no signs of vesselor land, and we passed the day in sleeping and refreshing ourselves forwhatever the future might have in store for us. The night was quietand the stars shone down upon us with their silvery light, and we usedthem to keep our course by, having no light to see the compass inthe night-time. Towards eight o'clock in the morning of the 8th theweather began to change, and large clouds to gather in the northernhorizon; it was at this time that we made another discovery, and thatwas that one of the breakers of water had leaked out quietly till therewas scarcely enough in it for our rations for that morning; this wascaused by its not having been used for some time before we filled iton board of the ship. This discovery caused us great uneasiness, andalthough the breaker had evidently ceased leaking now, having swollenwith the water placed in it, it was no longer useful, as we had nowater to replace that which was lost. The weather to windward causedme great disquietude, and I was sadly afraid, in case of a blow, thatmy 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 thetables that I might want to use, on a spare leaf of the Epitome, andtake out the head of the now useless breaker and enclose all the booksand charts in it and head it up. This was accordingly done. We startedthe hoops, took out the head, put the books and charts in, carefullywrapped up in a piece of blanket, and replaced the head and closedup the bung-hole. I felt relieved after this, as I looked upon thepreservation of my books as of the utmost importance in our futurenavigation, and I could think of no greater loss to people in ourcondition than to have them lost or destroyed. It was with infinitesatisfaction that I saw them thus safely preserved from the water tillI could again take them out in good weather and examine and copy fromthem.
Whilst we had been busy at this task the weather to windward was fastbecoming bad and threatening. I dealt out a fair ration of hard tackand canned meat to my two comrades, and then ordered them to takethe sprit out of the foresail, and bring the peak down to the footof the mast, and lash it to the inner leach of the sail, and fastenwhat was before the after leach to the foot; so as to make a sort ofdouble 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 wasfast coming down upon us, and at twelve o'clock, as I judge, we wereplunging along quite well for so small a boat, in about half a gale ofwind, 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 shouldhave to bear away and run before it. As I feared, we now commencedto take in considerable water, which, although not in dangerousquantities, gave us work to do in the shape of bailing with the emptymeat cans, whilst the attention of one was needed without remissionat the steering oar and sheet. We were, thank God, blessed with thatbest of seaboats, a Nantucket whaleboat; and although she was low inthe water, she was also buoyant, and rode the waves better than couldbe expected of any other craft of her size. I felt, too, that we couldat any time make easy weather of it by scudding or running before thewind, for which she was admirably fitted, being sharp at both ends, andtherefore in no danger of being pooped; but this was the last thingthat I desired to do, as it would take us from our course towards theislands and far to the southward, as such a boat would make rapid waybefore the wind, with even this small sail.
At about two o'clock the wind hauled more to the westward and headedus 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 Ialready had to let the boat go very free before it, to keep her frombeing swamped.
At sundown the gale had greatly increased, and I found that to preserveus, and on account of the steady change of the wind, that I wascompelled to steer about S. by W., and to allow ourselves to run beforethe tempest. As the darkness set down upon us like a pall, I gaveourselves up as lost. I clung to the steering-oar and guided the boatbefore the wind; the only clew that was given me how to steer was theangry roar of the combing billows astern and the rush of the wind bythe side of my face: by these two senses of hearing and feeling, I wasenabled to tell when the boat was about to broach to, which would havebeen 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 ofrain and spray flew over us. I was unable to see an atom of even thesail ahead of me in the boat. And thus we plunged on, into the inkydarkness, followed by the angry roar of the disappointed waves that weleft 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; howmany hours we thus rushed along I know not. I had become hardened tothe situation, and the angry roar astern had become a familiar noisein my ears. I commenced to people the darkness with vessels, islands,sunlight, and music; I had long ceased to care what fate might have instore for me; I felt that the night must be nearly passed, and wonderedwhether we should survive to see the daylight. I dreamed, and becamesemi-unconscious, but still guided the boat onward before the wind.
I felt that nature could not be sustained much longer, and that ina few hours I must succumb. My comrades pottered round at my feet,their efforts to bail becoming more and more feeble. I was in thisreckless, half-dazed state when, without one moment's warning, I wasthrown with a crash into the forward end of the boat, and in anotherinstant surrounded by pieces of the boat and floating debris. I foundmyself hurled rapidly forward by an incoming wave, and rolled over andover some hard substance; the next instant the retreating wave foundme clinging to a mass of what was evidently land of some kind, and thesea already had a faint, distant sound to my ears. The next incomingwave dashed over some evident obstacle between me and it, and I clungto the object at which I had first clutched, ready to receive it. I wasburied beneath it, but managed to keep my hold, and, as it retreated,the noise again became fainter, and it flashed over me that, by thefirst wave, I had been washed over some reef or barrier between theopen ocean and where I now hung, and that each wave was broken by thisbarrier before reaching me.
Before the next wave came I had gained my feet, and felt that I wasstanding upon rocky ground, and clutching masses of rock-weed in eachhand. I was again buried, but hung on with desperation till the wavehad retired. Evidently I had been washed over the reef; but what was toleeward 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 oceanoutside. Every wave did not submerge me, but most of them did, andI felt that it was only a question of a few moments more how long Icould hold on before trusting myself to swimming to leeward. O for someknowled
ge of what lay behind me. One flash of lightning, one speck ofGod's blessed daylight!
Was there land behind me? or should I let go my last hold upon lifewhen I unclasped my hands from the rock-weed that they held to? Mybrain worked with lightning-like rapidity. I knew that I must not hangon to this reef, submerged every few moments, till all my strengthwas 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 besaved. _If_ there was land, it no doubt could be easily approached onaccount 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 mysoul! I must do something. Although used to swimming and diving, Icould not stand this submersion much longer, and my arms were fastgiving out; therefore, when the next wave came, I let go my hold,and crying out, in my despair, "Oh, help me, Lord!" allowed myselfto be carried away with it. In a moment I felt that my conjecturesabout smooth water had been correct. I swam without difficulty, incomparatively smooth water, encumbered only by my clothes. Should Ifind land before me? Oh, for light! Hark! did I hear the break of waterupon land before me? and so near. Down went my feet, and I found myselfstanding in water not up to my armpits. The revulsion was terrible.I fell into the water, and scrambling, fighting, fainting, plungedforward till I found myself safe on shore and at some distance from thewater, when I fell down unconscious on the sand.
Perseverance Island; Or, The Robinson Crusoe of the Nineteenth Century Page 6
