Great American Adventure Stories

by Tom McCarthy

  Our course was west-southwest that afternoon and night. At four o’clock next morning, by order of Capt. Hilton, who had been sick most of the passage out and was now unable to appear on deck during the night, we kept her away one point, steering southwest by west, calculating the current easterly at three knots, which he supposed would clear us of the Double Headed Shot Keys.

  About sunset, a dark and stormy night approaching, I suggested to our captain the propriety of shortening sail, to which he would not assent, presuming we might get into Matanzas the next day. The night was so dark that we could not discover objects distinctly beyond the length of the vessel, and the wind blew more than a usual wholesale breeze, which drove her, heavy-laden as she was, at the rate of nine knots, calculating ourselves more than six leagues to the windward of the Double Headed Shot Keys. At half past two o’clock, I was relieved at the helm, and after casting a glance over the lee side and discovering no alteration in the appearance of the water, I observed to my shipmate at the helm, “There is no fear of you”—went below and turned in with my clothes on. No one was below at this time except the captain, who stood at the foot of the companion way viewing the appearance of the weather.

  I had been in my berth about half an hour when I felt a tremendous shock, which covered me with the muskets that were overhead, boxes, barrels, and other cabin articles, the water pouring into my berth through the quarter. I cleared myself by a violent effort, ran for the companion way—it was gone—turned—leaped through the skylight, and was on deck in an instant. We were in the hollow of a sea, and I could just discern over our main peak the dark top of the rock, which we had struck, stem on, then going at the rate of nine knots. This rock, which some of our crew supposed to be a wreck, was concealed from the helmsman by the mainsail. Two of the crew were at the pumps—the deck load, which consisted of boards, scantlings, and oars piled on each side as high as their heads—the other two people were probably on the quarter deck. It was a careless watch for a dark night, even at our supposed distance from the keys, but we were now in no situation to complain. A part of our stern and the yawl at the davits had gone together. I ran forward to clear the anchors in order to prevent her from ranging ahead on another rock, which I could perceive among the surf, but a greater part of the bows were gone and with them the anchors. The water was already groaning under the deck. She arose for the last time on the crest of another sea nearly to the top of the rock, quivering like a bird under its death wound. Our captain and crew were around the longboat, endeavoring to cut the leashings and right her, while I secured a compass, an axe, a bucket, and several oars. The next sea we descended, she struck; opened fore and aft; the masts and spars, with all sails standing, thundering against the rock; and the lumber from below deck cracking and crashing in every direction.

  We were all launched overboard on the lumber that adhered together, clinging hold of the longboat as the seaman’s last ark of refuge and endeavoring to right her, which we did in a few moments but not without the misfortune of splitting a plank in her bottom. We all sprang in, bearing with us nothing but the sea clothes we had on, the few articles before named, and some fragments of the boat’s leashings. The captain’s dog, which a few moments before had been leaping from plank to plank after the cat, with as determined an enmity as though the pursuit had been through a farmyard, followed us, a companion by no means unwelcome to those who, without provision or water, might have been compelled to depend on this faithful animal for the preservation of their lives.

  A new difficulty now presented itself: Our boat leaked so fast that three hands, two with hats and one with the bucket, were unable to free her, but with the aid of the only knife we had saved and the fragments of the leashings, I filled some of the seams, which helped to free her but not so effectually as to relieve a single hand from bailing.

  About a league from the rock, we hung on our oars, watching the sea that ran mountains high until daylight, when we pulled up under its lee but could discover neither freshwater nor a particle of provisions, except a few pieces of floating bread that we dared not eat. Fragments of boards and spars were floating here and there, but the only article either of convenience or comfort we could preserve was a large blanket, which was converted into a sail and set, and being compelled by the violence of the sea, we put her away before the wind, steering south half-east—a course that must have carried us far east of our intended track, had it not been for the strong westerly current in St. Nicholas’s Channel.

  The rock on which we were wrecked and from which we took our departure in the boat proved to be one of the northeast range of the Double Headed Shot Keys.

  We steered the above course all that day, bailing and rowing without a moment’s cessation and approaching, as was then supposed, the island of Cuba, the coast of which, except the entrance of Matanzas and Havana, was unknown to us. We knew, however, that the whole coast was lined with dangerous shoals and keys, though totally ignorant of the situation of those east of Point Yeacos. A hundred times during the day were our eyes directed to every point of the compass in search of a sail but in vain—we were too far to the eastward of the usual track to Matanzas.

  As night approached the danger of our situation increased. We had all been fatigued—some of us much bruised—by the disasters of the preceding night, and our toils during the day, as may well be conceived, were not much relieved by an incessant rowing and bailing without a particle of food to assuage our hunger or one drop of freshwater to cool our parched tongues. Anxiety was depicted in every visage, and our spirits were clouding like the heavens over them. Capt. Hilton, whose sickness and debility had been increased by fatigue and hunger, could no longer smother the feelings that were struggling within. The quivering lip, the dim eye, the pallid cheek, all told us, as plainly as human expression could tell, that the last ray of that hope which had supported him during the day was now fading away before the coming night. I had seen much more of rough service and weather than anyone onboard and, having been blessed with an excellent constitution, made it my duty to encourage the rest by representing our approach to the island as certain and safe; this seemed to stimulate increased exertion at the oars, and the breeze continuing fair, we made good headway.

  About midnight, Capt. Hilton’s oar touched something which he supposed bottom but which the blade of the oar discovered to be a shark that followed us next morning. Deeming us, therefore, over some dangerous shoal, he gave full vent to his feelings by observing that, if even we were to escape these dangerous shoals, our distance from the island was so great that we could never endure hunger, thirst, and the fatigue of bailing long enough to reach it. I endeavored to convince him that we must reach the land by another night in the direction we were steering. The disheartened crew soon caught the contagious and fatal despair which the captain had incautiously diffused among them.

  In vain did I expostulate with him on the necessity of continuing our exertions at the oars—he burst into tears, kneeled down in the bottom of the boat, and implored Divine protection. It is true our hold on life was a frail one. In an open boat, that from leaking and the violence of the sea we could scarcely keep above water—without food, drink, or clothing sufficient to defend us from the cold and rain of a December norther—in an irregular and rapid current that prevented any correct calculation of our course—on an unknown and dangerous coast without a chart to guide us.

  In a state of mind bordering on that insanity which is sometimes caused by hunger, thirst, and despair united, we passed a most perilous night. At the very first dawn of light, every eye was again in search of a sail. A small, dark speck on the ocean was descried ahead, about five leagues distant! The joyful sound of land ran through our nerves like an electric shock and gave new life to the oars. The wind being fair, the aid of our sail, which was equal to two additional oars, gave us such headway that, as the rays of the rising sun sported over the tops of the waves and fell on the small spot of land ahead, we fou
nd ourselves nearing one of the Cuba Keys.

  The land we first discovered was a little island of about three acres that arose above the surrounding key, as high as the tops of the mangroves. The name of this key—the largest of its group—was of so sacred an import that one would have supposed it had been a refuge no less from the storms of persecution than those of the element around it.

  Cruz del Padre, or the Cross of our Father, situated in west longitude 80°5' and north latitude 23°11'—is about twenty-seven leagues east by north from Matanzas. It is a long, narrow key, of whose size we could not accurately judge. Around its north side, about a league distant from the shore, was a semicircular reef, over which the sea broke as far as the eye extended. It was a tremendous battery in a storm, and were I approaching it in an American squadron, I should fear its ground tier more than all the cabanas of the Morro. But hunger and thirst are powerful antidotes to fear. We therefore boldly approached it with confidence in that Divine interposition which had been recently so signally displayed toward us. Availing ourselves of the deepest water and the swell of a sea, we were hurried on the top of a breaker that shook our longboat like an aspen leaf and nearly filled her with water, but in a moment she was floating on a beautiful bay that presented to the eye “the smooth surface of a summer’s sea.”

  The northern boundary of this bay was formed by the reef, making the inner part of a crescent—the southern, by two long lines of mangroves on each side and a small beach of beautiful white pipe clay that formed the front of the little island in the center. The distance across was about three miles, two of which we had already passed, directly for the beach, a few rods from which, as we had previously discovered, were two huts inhabited by fishermen, whom we could now see passing in and out. When at the above distance from the reef, our attention was suddenly arrested by the appearance of two wrecks of vessels, of too large a size, one would have supposed, to have beaten over the reef. As the water grew shoaler, I could see an even pipe clay bottom, on which our boat grounded a hundred yards from the shore. One of the inhabitants came off in a flat-bottom’d log canoe about twenty-five feet long and two and a half wide, hailed us in Spanish, demanding who we were, and was answered by Manuel, our Portuguese.

  As this Spaniard, who was the head fisherman, came alongside, he was recognized by Capt. Hilton as the same of whom he had purchased some sugars the voyage before at Matanzas.

  The two huts we have named were formed of the planks and cabin boards of wrecks, about seven feet high and ten by fifteen on the ground, with thatched roofs. At the northeast corner was a group of old weather-beaten trees, the only ones above the height of a mangrove on the island, on which the fishermen hung their nets. In front of the beach was a turtle troll about fifteen feet square surrounded by a frame, from which were suspended a great number of wooden hooks, on which their fish were hung and partially preserved by drying in the sea breeze. It was about eight o’clock in the morning when we were conducted into one of the huts, and as we had had neither food nor drink for nearly two days and nights, some refreshment, consisting of turtle and other fish, hot coffee, &c., was immediately provided.

  After our refreshment some sails were spread on the ground, on which we were invited to repose. My shipmates readily accepted the invitation, but I had seen too much of Spanish infidelity under the cloak of hospitality to omit an anchor watch, even in our present snug harbor.

  There were five fishermen, all stout, well-built Spaniards, the master of whom was over six feet and had much the appearance of an American Indian. My companions were soon in a “dead sleep,” and when the fishermen had left the hut, I walked out to explore our new habitation. The two huts were so near that a gutter only separated them, which caught the water from the roofs of each and conducted it into a hogshead bedded in the sand, from which other casks were filled against a drought; the freshwater thus obtained being all the island furnished. West of the beach was a small bay, in the center of which was an island about a mile in circumference. At the head of this bay, a creek made up several rods into the mangroves, which served as a harbor for a small fishing vessel of about twelve tons, decked over, in which they carried their fish to Matanzas and elsewhere about the island of Cuba. East of the beach was a cove that extended about a quarter of a mile into the bushes, forming a kind of basin at its head, which was as still as a millpond. This basin was surrounded by thick mangroves and completely concealed from everything without by the jutting out of a point at its entrance.

  A more lonely place I never saw. Around its borders a “solitary guest,” you might see the flamingo strutting in all the pride of its crimson plumage, as erect and nearly as high as a British soldier. The bottom of this cove was like that of the bay.

  The mangroves are very thick, their trunks covered with oyster shells that adhere to them like barnacles to a vessel’s bottom, which annoy those who attempt to pass among them by tearing their clothes and wounding the flesh as high up as the hips.

  Among the bushes were concealed two clinker-built boats, remarkably well constructed for rowing, with their bottoms greased or soaped; in one of which, I found a handkerchief filled with limes: I took one and brought it into the house; this displeased the fishermen, who afterward told Manuel that the boats and limes belonged to some people at a small distance who would return in a few days. There were also two yawls moored in front of the huts that appeared to have belonged to American vessels.

  When I returned to the hut, my shipmates were yet asleep, and we did not awake them until supper was prepared, which was much the same with our breakfast, except the addition of plantain. After supper we all sat around the table, devising means to get to Matanzas. Through Manuel, Capt. Hilton offered the master fisherman our longboat and forty dollars in cash on our arrival at Matanzas, which was accepted, and we were to sail in their small schooner as soon as the weather would permit. About eight or nine o’clock, we all turned in, but my suspicions would not allow me to sleep, for when all was silent, I could hear the Spaniards conversing with each other in a low tone, on which I spake to Manuel with the hope that he might understand the subject of their consultation, but he, like his companions, was too sound asleep to be easily awakened.

  A lamp of fish oil had been dimly burning for two or three hours, when the master fisherman arose and extinguished it. About this time an old dog belonging to the fishermen commenced a most hideous howling without that was occasionally answered by our dog within. Supposing some boat might be approaching, I went out but could discover no living being in motion. It was a starlit night, the wind blowing fresh with a few flying scuds. When I returned into the hut, I sat down between two barrels of bread, against one of which I leaned my head, prepared to give an early warning of any foul play that might befall us, but the night passed without any incident to interrupt the slumbers of my weary messmates.

  Early in the morning, they turned out, and we went down to the cove before described in order to bathe. While we were clothing ourselves on the shore at the head of the cove, we discovered, at high-water mark, a number of human skeletons—except the skulls—bleached and partly decayed. The bones of the fingers, hands, and ribs were entire. To me this was no very pleasant discovery, and I observed to Mr. Merry that “we might all be murdered in such a place without the possibility of its being known,” but the bones were, at the time, supposed to have belonged to seamen that might have been shipwrecked on the reef near this part of the key.

  After breakfast we finished loading the little schooner and returned to the huts to bring down some small stores. As we were all standing before the huts, the master fisherman was seen pointing to the eastward and laughing with his companions. On looking in the direction he was pointing, I discovered the object of his amusement to be a small vessel just doubling an easterly point of the key, about seven miles distant within the reef and bearing away for us. I had too often seen the grin of a Spaniard accompanied with the stab of his stiletto to pa
ss the circumstance unnoticed. By my request Manuel inquired of the Spaniards what vessel it was and received for answer that “it was the king’s cutter in search of pirates.” This answer satisfied us, and in a short time, we were all hands, the master fisherman and three of his crew, onboard our vessel. As soon as we were ready to weigh anchor, observing the Spaniard intent on watching the “cutter” and delaying unnecessarily to get underway, I began to hoist the foresail, on which he, for the first time, sang out to me in broken English, “No foresail, no foresail.” By this time the sail was within three quarters of a mile of us. As I stood on the forecastle watching her, I saw one of her people forward, pointing at us what I supposed a spyglass, but in an instant the report of a musket and whistle of a bullet by my ears convinced me of my mistake. This was followed by the discharge of at least twenty blunderbusses and muskets, from which the balls flew like hailstones, lodging in various parts of our schooner, one of which pierced my trousers and another Mr. Merry’s jacket, without any essential injury.

  At the commencement of the firing, the four fishermen concealed themselves below deck, out of danger, and our Portuguese, attempting to follow their example, was forced back. I remained on the forecastle watching the vessel until the whistling of six or seven bullets by my ears warned me of my danger. At first I settled down on my knees, still anxious to ascertain the cause of this unprovoked outrage, until they approached within two or three hundred feet of us, when I prostrated myself on the deck, soon after which the master fisherman arose, waved his hat at them, and the firing ceased. About forty or fifty feet abreast of us, she dropped anchor and gave orders for the canoe at our stern to come alongside, which one of our fishermen obeyed, and brought onboard of us their captain and three men. The supposed cutter was an open boat of about thirty-five feet keel, painted red inside and black without, except a streak of white about two inches wide, calculated for rowing or sailing—prepared with long sweeps and carrying a jib, foresail, mainsail, and squaresail. She was manned by ten Spaniards, each armed with a blunderbuss or musket, a machete, long knife, and pair of pistols. They were all dressed with neat jackets and trousers and wore palm-leaf hats. Their beards were very long and appeared as though they had not been shaved for eight or nine months.