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The Shipwreck Cannibals

Page 3

by Adam Nightingale


  The crew needed something to galvanise them to activity. John Deane had given Christopher Langman the job of trying to trap and kill a seagull. While they had been on Boon Island the seagulls had floated on the water and flew by but had seldom landed on the rocks. If Langman could trap and kill one, the fresh meat might provide the necessary spur to move the men to work. Langman killed his seagull. He presented the dead gull to John Deane who cut it into thirteen pieces and distributed it among the men. There was barely enough for a mouthful each. The meat was raw but the men were grateful and enjoyed their tiny meal. It was a small difference but it had the desired effect. The men’s spirits lifted and they were ready for their next great endeavour, the building of a raft.

  The crew member at the heart of the new building project was a man known only by his nationality. John and Jasper Deane simply called him the ‘Swede’. The only physical description of him is that he was ‘stout’. John Deane would express doubts and a degree of ambivalence about the success of the venture he was about to bring into being. In contrast, the Swede would completely embrace the prospect of building a raft and became the main motivating force behind its construction. In fact, since arriving on Boon Island, it had been the Swede that had repeatedly suggested the prospect of building a raft as a means of escape. The mood of the group was in accord with that of the Swede. Construction began on the raft.

  What made the Swede’s involvement truly remarkable was the fact that he could not walk. Since his arrival on Boon Island, the Swede had contracted a severe case of frostbite in both feet. He quickly lost the use of his feet and became one the crew’s first invalids. Although not explicitly stated, it is likely that the Swede was one of the two stricken crew members obliged to convalesce with the dying cook. He was an excellent swimmer and may have been one of the two men selected to accompany Christopher Langman when he left the Nottingham Galley. The Swede had suffered more than most but his enthusiasm was infectious. A new optimism seemed to arrest the crew.

  It took five or six days to build the raft. The crew had virtually no tools at hand and limited raw materials. John Deane described the raft’s construction:

  After deliberate thoughts and consideration, we resolved upon a Raft, but found abundance of labour and difficulty in clearing the Fore-Yard (of which it was chiefly to be made) from the junk, by reason our working hands were so few and weak.

  That done, we split the Yard, and with the two parts made side pieces, fixing others, and adding some of the lightest Plank we cou’d get, first spiking and afterwards seizing them firm, in the breadth of four Foot: We likewise fix’d a mast, and of two hammocks that were drove on shore we made a sail, with a paddle for each man and a spare one in case of necessity.

  The raft was only big enough to carry two men. The Swede insisted that he was to be one of the two. He wanted John Deane to accompany him. This time Deane refused. He didn’t share the Swede’s confidence in the mission’s chances of success. The nature of the raft’s primitive construction would leave the occupants waist-deep in water while trying to either sail or row to the mainland on a journey that would take a minimum of ten to twelve hours. Deane had also been here before. His own experiences in the first shattered boat can only have informed his pessimism. But for the sake of the rest of the crew, at least for the time being, Deane kept his misgivings to himself.

  There must have been an unwelcome sense of déjà vu when shortly after construction was finished on the raft another boat was spotted. This time the sail of a ship was seen. The ship was leaving the Piscataqua River some seven leagues away. Once again the crew attempted to get the attention of the ship. The ship failed to notice them and the ever oscillating mood of the crew sank back into a familiar despair.

  The following day the crew called on their depleted reserves of optimism and endeavoured to launch the raft. The weather was reasonable but it was afternoon, somewhat late in the day to safely attempt something like this. The Swede had found a replacement for John Deane and was keen to set sail. Christopher Langman cautioned the Swede to launch at another time. Langman stressed the lateness of the hour as reason not to sail. The Swede reassured Langman that an afternoon launch made no difference as it was a full moon that night and as far as he was concerned that was as safe as sailing in the daylight. John Deane agreed. The crew prayed together and the raft was launched.

  Like Deane before him the Swede and his companion were tipped into the ocean by another swell. The Swede was an outstanding swimmer and made it back to shore. His companion floundered and went under. John Deane swam after him and dragged him to safety.

  A swell in the ocean tipped the Swede into the freezing sea as he tried to escape Boon Island in a makeshift raft. Illustration by Stephen Dennis

  The men retrieved the raft before it could be smashed against the rocks. The raft was intact but the mast and the sail were gone. The Swede was keen to get back in the raft and try again. This time Deane cautioned against it, advising patience for a better opportunity to relaunch the raft. The Swede didn’t want to wait. He was kneeling on the rocks. He grabbed his captain’s hand. He conceded that he might die but he was determined to go anyway. He wanted John Deane to come with him but was willing to go alone if necessary. He asked Deane to help him back into the raft. Deane was reluctant. He pointed out the obvious; that without the sail and mast the journey would take twice as long and the chances of survival would be greatly reduced. The Swede was adamant that he needed to attempt the journey. He hated Boon Island and would sooner drown in his raft than stay there any longer than he had to. Deane consented and gave the Swede permission to relaunch the raft.

  The Swede’s first sailing companion would not rejoin him but the Swede’s example moved another member of the crew to take his place. John Deane gave the Swede some money. It was estimated that the Swede would reach the mainland at two o’clock in the morning. If successful his instructions were to light a fire on a designated hill in the woods as a signal that he had reached the shore safely. The Swede was helped back onto the raft. He requested the remaining party pray for him as long as they could still see him. The Swede and his new companion rowed and steered the raft toward the mainland. The crew watched and prayed until they couldn’t see the Swede, his companion, or the raft anymore. As the raft disappeared from view it was estimated that the Swede was halfway to shore. During the evening the good weather evaporated and the wind grew rough and violent.

  Two days after the Swede had left Boon Island the crew saw smoke rising from the mainland. The smoke came from a different position than that agreed between the Swede and his crew mates. Yet the crew still believed that the author of the smoke signal was the Swede. If the Swede and his companion had made it to the shore then they would find settlers and bring help. The Swede appeared to have fulfilled his part of the bargain. The onus on the crew was to stay alive until help arrived.

  The threat of the spring tide had passed. Boon Island had not been covered with water as feared. Nobody had drowned but the water level had risen bringing with it a more subtly dangerous set of problems. The water submerged the mussels John Deane had been harvesting. The mussels were now the men’s main source of nourishment. Deane still tried to ensure that his men received their daily ration of three mussels each. Deane took it upon himself to collect the mussels because he was still the strongest man among the crew and because the men refused to do it themselves. The majority of the men were either incapacitated, unable, or simply loath to help. To collect the mussels Deane had to repeatedly sink his hands into the icy cold water. Each time he did this his hands went numb for a while. The longer he did this the more he risked permanently losing the feeling in his hands and arms. Gangrene might follow and if that happened, Deane would have to have his hands amputated to stop the rot spreading to the rest of his body. The irony of the entire venture was that whenever Deane tried to eat a mussel himself he couldn’t keep it in his stomach. He ate rockweed instead.

  The crew waited. As the anti
cipated rescue failed to materialise, it became evident that the prospect of starvation was now the men’s principle adversary. The men still believed the Swede was alive. They believed that the rivers on the mainland had frozen. They rationalised that this had delayed the Swede’s attempts to find a settler with a boat that might come and retrieve them. They would wait for the Swede. They would do whatever was necessary to avoid starving to death.

  A piece of main yard washed up on shore. Attached to it was a patch of green hide. The men wanted to eat it. They pleaded with their captain to bring it to them. Deane retrieved the hide, cut it into tiny pieces and let the men feed on it.

  Although Deane was stronger than the rest he was feeling the stab of hunger in his own tortured fashion. He considered eating the ends of his own lacerated fingers. He considered eating his own bodily waste.

  Deane tried to keep his men active as best they could manage. If they were reluctant to leave the tent then they could mend it.

  The health of two members of the crew was of particular concern. Deane’s cabin boy seemed particularly susceptible to the cold. Deane tended to him with an extra degree of care. At night, Deane and the boy removed their wet clothes. They wrapped themselves in oakum and Deane bid the boy lie on him to share body heat. But the most stricken member of the crew was the carpenter. At this stage in his illness he couldn’t talk. He could only communicate through drawing. He was too weak to cough up the large deposits of phlegm that hung heavy upon his lungs. The crew tended to him as best they could. He died sometime in the night, his corpse resting among the sleeping members of the crew until morning.

  On the first full day of the carpenter’s death, John Deane instructed the stronger members of the crew to remove the corpse and place it a safe distance from the tent. Deane left the tent to look for food and supplies. He found another piece of hide attached to another piece of the main yard. He picked the hide up and bit into it, testing its suitability as food. It was tough and his teeth couldn’t make any kind of purchase on the rough material. Around noon he returned to his men. The body of the carpenter was still in the tent. The men hadn’t lifted a finger to shift it. When Deane asked why, the men complained that they were too weak.

  Deane was incensed but tried to contain his anger. He searched around for some rope. He gave the rope to the men and ordered them to tie it around the carpenter’s body. Deane took hold of the rope and tried to drag the corpse out of the tent. He was weaker than he thought and found the labour difficult. He was joined by a few other members of the crew but their combined efforts were feeble. They dragged the body a few steps outside the tent and then gave up.

  John Deane returned to the tent exhausted. He wanted to sleep but there was something wrong with the crew. There was an intensity among them and an alertness present that had been absent in recent days. Charles Whitworth needed to talk to Deane in front of the men. He told Deane that the crew wanted to eat the body of the carpenter.

  While Deane had been out foraging, the crew had discussed what to do with the carpenter’s body. They had elected Whitworth as their spokesman because he was a gentleman and more likely to persuade the captain to consent to their request. John Deane said nothing. He was appalled. The crew pleaded with him to let them eat the carpenter’s body. When Deane finally spoke, it was to organise a conference of sorts that would debate and discuss all the moral permutations of what they were proposing to do.

  Deane did his best to hide his exhaustion. He listened to arguments and counter-arguments. There was the dual consideration of legality and theology. What they were doing might be illegal, unnatural and sinful; a crime against the law of the land, nature and God himself. Weighed against that was the necessity to survive. Nobody really knew if the Swede had been successful in his endeavours or whether he was in fact dead. If he was successful, the crew couldn’t guarantee that they could sustain their existence long enough on infrequent meals of raw mussel and patches of hide for a rescue party to reach them before they starved to death. Deane listened to all the arguments and decided to put it to the vote.

  The decision to eat the dead body was by no means a completely unanimous one. Despite their hunger, Christopher Langman and two others were strongly opposed to cannibalism on religious grounds. But the majority voted ‘yes’ and Deane gave his consent to butcher and eat the dead body of the carpenter. The majority were ecstatic.

  Deane tried to reassure Langman and his allies. Nobody had killed the carpenter. The need to survive was arguably the greater moral imperative. To eat his corpse was only wrong if the crew had been complicit in ending his life for that purpose. That had not been the case. They had tried to keep him alive as long as possible. No sin had been committed. Langman was not convinced and Deane, despite being an apologist for cannibalism in those moments, almost certainly retained some degree of doubt. But once the decision had been made, he committed to the practicalities of what they were about to do. Deane reasoned that, despite the levels of hunger, the reality of eating raw human flesh might be more difficult for the men than they had anticipated. He decided that human flesh needed to look like animal meat. It would be an easier adjustment for the men to make when the time came. In order to do this, any physical semblance of humanity in the carpenter’s corpse would have to be cut away and dumped into the sea. What was left would be quartered, dried and divided into rations, which Deane would control. The majority agreed but the question remained as to which of the crew would help with the butchering.

  None of the crew would consent to help butcher the body. When Deane wanted to know why, the crew complained that it was too cold to work, or that they were sickened by the actual mechanics of butchery and couldn’t do it, despite an academic willingness to join in. Deane was angry and offered no assistance. The crew begged him to butcher the corpse. Deane eventually agreed. He managed to persuade one member of the crew to join him and the bloody work began.

  Deane and his companion cut off the carpenter’s head, hands and feet. They skinned him. They extracted his bowels. They threw the sundered body parts and rejected internal organs into the sea. They cut strips of flesh from the carcass and washed them in salt water. By the time the sun had set, they had their first ration of the new meal.

  Deane brought the strips of meat back to the tent. He leavened the meal with rockweed and distributed the ration among the men. Christopher Langman and the other two dissenters refused to touch the meat. The rest of the crew devoured the flesh with great enthusiasm. John Deane’s first taste of human flesh was a gristly piece of meat from the carpenter’s breast. He could barely keep it down.

  The following morning Langman and his two companions gave in and received their ration. John Deane took to calling the rations ‘beef’ in his belief that the men might still need some form of semantic bridge to help them make the adjustment to eating human flesh. He needn’t have concerned himself. The men took to their new diet with a gusto that disturbed their captain. Two days later, Deane had real cause for alarm. Once the men had tasted the carpenter’s flesh they craved more of it. Deane had taken advantage of the crew’s general level of physical incapacity and his own superior constitution. He had moved the supply of flesh further away from camp, to a sharp and difficult part of the island, hard for anybody but Deane to get to. He controlled the men’s rations despite their demands for more.

  Deane feared that cannibalism would accelerate the chances of ulcerated and mortified skin. These fears ran concurrent with increased concerns about the state of his own torn fingers. But it was the new meat’s effect on the men’s characters and personalities that really alarmed him. The men were wilder. Their eyes blazed. They argued more than they had done. They refused orders. There was a brutish air about them. The once unifying institution of corporate prayer dissolved among the men as a previously binding and comforting discipline. The men swore and blasphemed openly. There was a greater burden on Deane to protect and ration the supply of flesh. He feared that once it was exhausted, the st
ronger men would kill the weaker men and eat their remains. In those moments John Deane regretted not having given the entire body of the carpenter to the sea.

  On New Year’s Day the men were a sorry mess of ulcerations, numbness, gangrenous wounds and broken spirits. Charles Whitworth was now lame in both feet. Men couldn’t feel their fingers. Their physical inertia was interrupted by violent spasms. Blasphemy had increased among some, while others feared that these last miserable moments of their freezing existence were about to be supplanted by an eternity burning in the fires of hell. John Deane was nearly finished. He had some strength left but his faith was at its lowest ebb. He was tired of caring for these men.

  On the morning of 2 January John Deane left the tent. He was the first to do so that morning. He looked out across the sea. There was a shallop on the water. The shallop was equidistant between the island and the mainland. The shallop was sailing toward Boon Island. John Deane shouted, ‘A sail! A sail!’ The men left the tent as best they could, their mood altered in a matter of moments from despair to joy.

  As the crew of the shallop sailed their vessel nearer to Boon Island, John Deane became more visible to them. He waved his arms to get their attention. He walked across the island signalling the best place to weigh anchor. The crew of the shallop saw Deane clearly enough but didn’t comprehend his meaning. The shallop dropped anchor south-west of the island, 100 yards away, remaining in its position until noon. The sea at present was too dangerous to risk coming any closer. Deane’s men struggled to master their own mood, fearing another deferment.

  The afternoon brought with it kinder waters and the shallop moved closer to Boon Island. Deane and the crew of the shallop were now within shouting distance of each other. Deane told the New Englanders most of what had happened to him and his crew since the shipwreck. He made a point of not mentioning that the survivors were in want of food. The implication of Deane’s omission was that if supplies were delivered to the island then it might become evident what Deane and the men had had to do to avoid starvation. There was no way of predicting how the fishermen might respond to that knowledge. It was best, in Deane’s eyes, to avoid difficult questions for the time being.

 

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